Ooh, there is something
I see in you
It might kill me
I want it to be true

~"Decode" by Paramore


Ellen

Harold's tears took Ellen by surprise and she lost all ability to move. Had he felt unsure when she had come to his room, sobbing the night of the sinking? She shook her head, listening to his shaky breathing. No, this was different. Her tears had been from embarrassment and from rejected, childlike affections. His tears were from sorrow and were well-deserved, unlike hers just a couple nights ago.

She stood up shakily and wrapped her arms around him, holding his head as close to her chest as possible. She felt his shoulders shaking as the sobs passed through his body violently and she began to gently run her fingers through his matted, dirty hair. His tears eventually subsided, gently pushing her away to wipe his eyes.

"How?" was all he was able to ask. She sat down on the cot once more and glanced down, trying to think of how to begin.

"He saw me struggling in the water," she said, closing her eyes as she recollected the memories she knew would haunt her for the rest of her life. "He told me to follow him as soon as I had recovered from my fall. He must've seen the lifeboat before I had because I followed him blindly. He brought me to one of the smaller lifeboats I'd seen on deck earlier in the voyage. They're called collapsibles, I believe?"

Harold nodded, his gaze intent, not daring to interrupt.

She looked towards the small window just beside his cot, watching the gray sea churn in the stormy weather. "There must have been at least thirty people clinging to it, trying to keep themselves out of the water. It was so cold." She shut her eyes, shuddering at the thought before continuing. "We both climbed on and had to lie there, listening to the screams all around us. It's a sound I'll never be able to forget."

Harold closed his eyes and she could see he was clenching his teeth. "How did the lifeboat not sink being capsized like that?" he inquired after a long silence.

Ellen couldn't help but chuckle at his question, startling him. "We were all very fortunate that Mr. Lightoller was one of those clinging to the lifeboat as well. I suppose the air pocket began to shrink as the night went on. By the time dawn was approaching, he had us standing on the hull so we could balance the boat every time a wave came. It was absolutely remarkable how he was able to think of a solution like that so quickly with everything that was happening."

She studied Harold's face, which was decorated with surprise admiration for his fellow officer. She swallowed and continued, "The boat did end up sinking low enough, however, that the water was above our knees. That's how this happened." She gestured to her foot and she saw a grimace pass over his face.

"It was too much for some," she continued, chocking on the lump in her throat that had caught her by surprise. "Aeron was so weak, we had to support his weight the entire time we were standing." She paused, trying to read Harold's expression which had turned stone-cold. He urged her with his eyes to continue you and she cleared her throat nervously, trying to ignore the tears that were building up. "The sun was just beginning to rise when he toppled over into the ocean. He was unconscious but no one left the boat to rescue him. It was too dangerous with the boat being so low in the water."

She now felt her tears spilling down her cheeks as the memories she tried to suppress came rushing back to her. Would she ever be able to stop crying after the sinking? "I'm so sorry Harold," she said, bowing her head to the floor. "I let him die. What a miracle by God to be brought to your childhood friend of all people during a time like that and for me to just let him fall and not even try to rescue him…"

There was silence as her voice cracked and her sentence trailed off. He was looking away from her and she knew that he must be hurting and angry with her. She regretted immediately coming here. It was clear that he didn't want to be with her after everything that had happened, especially when she had been responsible for his friend's death. She got up to leave, muttering goodbye, when she felt his hand gently take hers.

"No," he said, his brown eyes pleading. "Don't go. It's not your fault and you're a fool for thinking so!"

She sat down next to him, their faces inches from each other. For a brief moment as she stared at him, she lost her words for what she was about to say and instead placed a gently kiss on his hallow and stubbly cheek. When she pulled away, she watched him gingerly touch where he lips had been with his fingers, his eyes wide.

"What was that for?" he asked.

"For being wonderful," she answered, not caring if it was too bold of a statement.

She saw a full smile break across his face and he looked much more like the Harold she had met on the decks of Titanic earlier that week.

"You look like you could use a good wash," she teased, holding her nose. "You stink!"

He chuckled lightly and brought his hand to his face once more, caressing the stubble on his cheeks. "You're right," he admitted. "But look who's talking!"

She shrugged, wiping away the last of the tears from earlier. "I can't with my foot wrapped like this, what's your excuse?"

He smiled again and swung his legs over the side of the cot, standing up. "I fancy a walk, will you join me?"

She glanced down at her foot. "If you're willing to walk slow."

"That's what my arms for," he remarked, coming over and letting him place her hand in the crook of his elbow, helping her stand.

By now, it was growing dark outside and she guessed the sun was setting behind the depressing haze that had overcast the chilly, spring day. Leaning heavily on his arm, the two walked down towards the stern where they took a seat on a bench and watched the many passengers that were milling about.

"Are you okay?" she asked, turning to him. He looked at her with surprise and cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you must have had a hell of a night," she said, referring to the sinking. She saw him shudder at her words and began fidgeting with the end of his coat.

"Harold?" she asked.

"I just can't help but feel like I could have done so much more," he whispered, barely audible.

She sat silently, watching him take a deep breath, not wanting to pursue the question if he wasn't ready. But he cleared his throat and said, "It was awful. Being on the lifeboat made me feel like a coward watching everyone struggling on deck. My boat could have held at least twenty more people and we waited so long to go back to look for survivors-"

"Boats went back for survivors?" she asked, astonished.

"The bloody cowards," he said, standing up. "And to think I listened to them!"

She watched him pace towards the railing. She wanted to follow him, but her foot reminded her otherwise so she remained on the bench, watching his lanky figure lean against the railing. Was it possible for him to lose so much weight in the two days since the sinking?

"I'll never be able to get the image out of my mind of all those people in the water, frozen," he said, just loud enough for her to hear. Most passengers that had been on deck were retreating inside as suppertime was drawing near, leaving the two of them alone. She remained silent, chewing on her lip as she fought to find words of comfort for him. He turned around and let out a long sigh. "Joe's afraid we're going to be persecuted once we reach New York?"

"Joe?" she asked, adjusting her position on the bench so she could fully face him.

"Joe Boxhall, Fourth Officer," he said. "We were warned of the ice and were going too fast. It's our fault."

"Don't be ridiculous!" Ellen cried. "It's not your fault, my goodness, you can't control where icebergs are in the water!"

"No," he said, scoffing at her comment, "But all of the officers and the captain were experienced seamen and we should've known better, but instead we let that that god damn Ismay influence us."

"To hell with Ismay," she spat, recognizing the name of the owner of the White Star Line. Madeleine had spoke of him often on the voyage and had told Ellen of his impatient and cocky behavior. "Your only fault is that you can't control the weather. Please, don't be absurd."

She watched him cross his arms, deep in thought.

"What are you going to do while in New York?" she asked.

He shrugged and came to sit by her once more. "I'm sure they will bring this incident to court and I'll have to stick around to see if I'll need to be present. And after that, I need to go back to Wales to see my family."

She smiled. "So you're going to go see them even after all of this?"

A strange expression crossed his face as he looked at her. "To be honest," he said, shaking his head slightly, "I wasn't going to visit them after our argument the day of the sinking."

She sucked in a breath, but he waved it away and continued, saying, "But after the sinking and not knowing whether I would survive, I swore to myself that if I made it through the night I would return to see my family as soon as possible and make amends. There are more important things in life to worry about than fifteen year long grudges."

"And the family business?" she asked, moving slightly so their legs were touching. He felt fire shoot through his body as he felt the warmth from her, but tried to keep a straight face.

"I'm not sure what lies ahead of me and the sea after all of this," he said, a far off look in his eyes. "For the first time in my life, I regretted stepping foot on a vessel when I was waiting for the Carpathia. I think time away might do me some good, and if my father will have me, I'll offer any assistance he can make of me to the business."

She couldn't help but let a full grin break across her face. It felt strange to smile so broadly, as if those muscles hadn't been used in years. "That makes me so happy to hear!"

"And what about you?" he said, his tone suddenly becoming serious.

She looked away, not sure how to phrase her sentence. "I'm not sure quite yet. I've asked for Lady Astor's permission to end my contract early and she agreed."

"No longer a ladies' maid?" Harold asked to which she nodded in response.

"I came to a similar enlightenment as you," she half-teased, poking him gently. He let out a sharp hiss of pain and she drew her eyebrows in confusion before bringing her hands to her mouth, gasping.

"Oh, your ribs!" she cried. "Oh, Harold, I'm so sorry! I completely forgot!"

"I almost had too," he said, smirking as he rubbed his side. She let out the breath he was holding, glad to know she hadn't hurt him to the point where he couldn't joke.

"Anyway," she said, eyeing him slyly with a small smile across her lips, "I want to be home to be with my mother and the bookstore. With my brother in the army, it's unlikely he'll be around any time soon and I know that as much as I want to save money to keep the bookstore open, it's keeping me away from my dreams. I'll find a way to make it work out, I can feel it."

He was staring at her intensely as she finished speaking and she blushed, looking away.

"I'll miss you," she heard him say just above a whisper.

She smiled but hoped he hadn't seen. "I'll miss you too," she said, turning back to him with a solemn expression on her face. "But none of that now, we still have two full days until we reach New York and we need to get you a bath!" She wrinkled her nose and she saw him grin, making her stomach fill with butterflies. What was wrong with her?

"Supper first," he said, standing and offering his arm to her. "And then a bath, I promise."

She took his arm and did her best to tear her gaze from his warm, brown eyes as he accompanied her into the dining room. What an incredible man, she couldn't help but think as they went inside.


It has been so inspiring the last week or so reading other FanFiction based on the Titanic. It amazes me how I've been reading stories on this site for nearly SEVEN years and I'm still finding new stories that are so beautiful they bring me to tears. I can't say enough how blessed I am to be apart of a community with so many fabulous writers who write for their own enjoyment!

I'm curious to know, what do you think has changed about Ellen and Harold after the sinking? It's obvious that you're not the same person after surviving such a horrific tragedy, but I can't quite place my finger on what's different about them. They are truly developing into their own characters at this point. Sometimes I'll write sentences in their conversations and be like, "Whoa! That wasn't even me saying that!" The long back stories are definitely paying off, it's giving me a lot to work with as they venture off into their lives after the Titanic.

Don't forget to rate and review!