I want to send a shout-out and many thanks to Fiction.2020 and Lowekey (formerly izzykenny), who have been ride-or-die supporters of this story for quite some time now; thank you for all the love, you two! Thank you also to the lovely guest reviewers who have chimed in with support and beautiful words - I love to hear that you enjoy the story so far and that you can't wait for the next chapter! I am so glad I've got a lot of Murdoch fans on board :) I have a great admiration for the First Officer, and it was important to me in this story to portray him as the hero he was. And MinoanPrincess1827: I am SO HAPPY to see you back! Love your insights... yes, you had Danny figured out way before I revealed him! Although the snobby couple was actually the Harpers, not the Duff Gordons (but good guess!); they had an Egyptian servant and a little Pekinese named Sun Yat-sen, who was saved as well. I would have included the Moody/Lowe exchange at lifeboats 14/16, except that Harry's POV sections ended right before it would have occurred :( But you can safely assume it did happen, only offscreen. And yes, I do have a soft spot for Ismay, due to the victimization of his character by the American press. For what it's worth, I don't think he pushed Captain Smith to increase the ship's speed the night of the accident. Finally, the song 'West' by Sleeping At Last is an absolutely BEAUTIFUL accompaniment to that chapter - thank you for bringing it to my attention! I had never heard it before, and it was haunting and moving.
And Rosie, darling... what can I say that you don't already know, except that you have been my rock, and have held me up through some truly challenging times, when my self-esteem and motivation were at absolute rock-bottom. I know I would've given up on W&S if it weren't for your emails of support and love :) Your belief in me, and in #harrine, has meant EVERYTHING to me! THANK YOU FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART!
For all of you that read and reviewed... thank you again. That last chapter was a big one for me, and it brings me much happiness to see that you enjoyed it as well :)
A/N: The second half of this story is all about the aftermath of the sinking, and is just as long, if not longer, than the first half. You'll notice a difference in the pacing as well; the second half is slower, much more psychological. It's like they're really two separate stories, with the same characters: the first is the action, the second is the fallout from the action. I have a long-standing interest not just in the tragedy, but how it subsequently affected the survivors... and I want to do it justice. So, hang in there... we're not out of the woods by any means.
I apologize if this chapter seems like a recap of events, but our two wanderers have a lot of catching up to do with one another :)
Part 3
Officer Lowe tacked toward the ship, the boat's prow plowing through the water and spraying mist that caught the early morning light. He alternated between steering, scrambling about the little boat, calling out orders, and sitting next to the small woman covered head to toe in blankets, who was lying half-prone on a seat near the tiller. He constantly checked on her, watching her breathing, repositioning her when she started to slide downward in the boat, and adjusting the layers of material surrounding her. Once, he just held her close to him, murmuring into the blankets covering her hair.
From Collapsible D, Irene Harris watched him, and despite her pain over the almost certain loss of her own Harry, she had to smile. She thought it was the most tender scene she had ever witnessed.
Mary Fabian stood on the deck as the lifeboat maneuvered along the side of the Carpathia. She had been watching them come to her ship all morning, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of the cold, weeping survivors. But this boat was different. First of all, it had a sail, and second, it was dragging a smaller boat behind it. It drew up with expert precision, skillfully directed by an officer standing at the helm. Soon, the little boat was made fast, and the passengers started making their way up the ladders or, in some cases, hauled up by ropes, nets, or sacks. When all of the sailboat's passengers had disembarked, the occupants of the collapsible began making their way from their boat to the more solid wooden one, and then to the safety of the Carpathia. During this time, she had lost track of the officer, but after everyone had left she saw that he had been huddled near the tiller, where a pile of blankets was nestled. When the boat was finally empty, he picked up the blanket-covered bundle gently in his arms and carried it to the cargo net. Signaling the crew above, he shouted, "Get her to the doctor quickly! There's no time to lose!"
He quickly stowed the mast and sail before scrambling up the rope ladder. By that time, crewmembers had retrieved the bundle from the net and one began carrying it toward the dining saloon, where a first-aid station of sorts had been hastily assembled. The officer caught up with him, and Mary trailed surreptitiously behind the little group, curious to see what the fuss was about.
A few beds had been dragged into the room, and the crewmember placed the blankets down on one as the officer began shouting for a doctor. As Dr. McGee hustled over, Mary saw an arm flop out of the pile. The doctor peeled back the layers of blankets and peered at the occupant inside.
Why, it was a young woman - little older than a girl, she saw with surprise. She was very pale, her lips blue with cold, and she was unconscious. Quickly, the doctor checked her pulse, then her breathing. Reassured that she was still in the land of the living, at least for the time being, he began tugging her coat and boots from her body, calling for the assistance of a stewardess to come and remove the rest of her soaked clothing under cover of the blankets. Another steward rushed over a small glass of brandy, which he put to her lips. She spluttered and coughed most of it out, but some must have made it into her mouth, because her cheeks warmed slightly with color. During this time, the officer stood by anxiously, watching, looking helpless.
"Will she live?" Mary heard him ask the doctor in a low voice.
Dr. McGee sighed. "If God wills, sir," he said resignedly. "We will do all we can, I assure you."
The woman was rewrapped in blankets, and the doctor moved off to another survivor after assuring the officer that he would check on her again in a few minutes to monitor her temperature and breathing. Mary watched as the officer slowly knelt by the bed and gently stroked the still-wet hair from the woman's face.
Mary turned away. The scene seemed too intimate, too private, to spy on any longer. She decided to grab a cup of hot coffee and see if she could dig something out of her own wardrobe for the poor woman to wear - if she survived, that is.
She woke to the throb of engines and the gentle motions of a ship at sea.
Corrine swam back to consciousness slowly, trying to get her bearings. Engines... a soft bed, warm blankets - so warm! She snuggled deeper into them before the thought came: where was she?
She tried to lift her arm to brush the covers aside, but to her surprise, her hand was attached to something. Puzzled, she opened her eyes and attempted to sit up, a maneuver that for some reason required considerable effort. Her body felt heavy, uncooperative. She groaned softly. What had happened to her, anyway?
Struggling, twisting, she finally managed to extricate herself from the covers and peer out. And there was Harry, sitting in a chair beside the bed, fast asleep, his hand gripping hers.
His head was drooped onto his chest. His uniform coat was unbuttoned, and his cap was off. She hadn't seen him like this since the night of the hooley...
All of a sudden, the memories came flooding back: the collision, the evacuation, the sinking, the frigid water... the struggle to survive, overlaid throughout with fear and longing for Harry.
Harry.
He had come for her; he had saved her. When she had almost lost hope... she remembered now, his face pressed against hers, his salty tears falling onto her frozen lips as he warmed her back to life.
Her own eyes flooded with tears. She tried to speak, to call for him, but her voice came out as a whisper, a croak. He did not stir. Gently, she squeezed his fingers.
His eyes flew open and immediately focused on her. They widened when they saw she was looking back at him.
"You're awake," he breathed. "I wasn't sure if-" his voice choked off in a sob. He put his face in his hands.
"Harry," she whispered.
In an instant, he was kneeling on the floor at her bedside, his arms wrapped around her waist, his head buried in the blankets covering her.
"Corrine... Corrine..." he murmured over and over, and it sounded like a prayer. His shoulders shook, and, startled, she realized he was crying again. Gently, she stroked his hair, as if he were a child, until at last he calmed.
When he finally looked up at her again, his eyes were red-rimmed. He gave her a watery smile. "Sorry about that," he said sheepishly. "Been doing that a lot lately."
She reached out and lovingly caressed his cheek with her hand, smiling back at him. They gazed at one another for a long time, and their eyes conveyed a thousand thoughts and feelings that made words inadequate.
His warm brown eyes glowed with an emotion she hadn't seen before as he looked at her. Was it relief? Admiration? Fondness? Was it... something more? She resolved to find out soon... but for now, there were other, more pressing concerns - and chief among them was an urgent need to know what happened after Titanic went under.
At the thought of the catastrophe, she felt fresh waves of lethargy threaten at the edges of her vision, but she pushed them back. Finally, gathering her strength, she spoke. "How... how long have I been asleep?" Her voice was rough from disuse.
"Almost a day and a half, all told," he said. At her alarmed expression, he took her hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the back to soothe her.
She took a deep breath. "Where are we?" she asked. She peered around in confusion. It appeared that she was in a small but comfortable private room. The bed hugged the right wall, and she could see a porthole on the left wall, and a door directly in front of her, which likely led outside to a corridor. The furnishings, which were mahogany, consisted of a small wardrobe and a washbasin in a cabinet on the left wall, and a writing desk beside the bed.
"We're on the Carpathia," he replied. "That's the ship that came to our rescue. She was steaming like hell for us all night, and made it early in the morning. And just in time, too," he continued gravely. "Some of our boats were in bad shape. But thankfully she managed to pick us all up and bring everyone onboard safely."
She gasped, eyes filling with fear as her thoughts turned to her friends. "Katie and Kate-"
"They're doing well," he assured her quickly. "I just spoke with them this morning, actually."
She heaved a big sigh and closed her eyes momentarily, overcome with relief and gratitude. But the present soon intruded on her brief moment of peace, and she opened her eyes reluctantly. "How many survivors?" she whispered, dreading the answer.
He averted his eyes. "Only around seven hundred or so," he said quietly.
A sob escaped her lips. The enormity of the tragedy was slowly coalescing for her, and she found it difficult for her mind to accept. "There are no others?"
"No," he said with finality. "Only the people who made it into lifeboats lived." He caressed her hand again. "And that includes you, Corrine. You were so brave-". He couldn't finish his sentence; he swallowed and looked down at their linked hands for a moment.
She had never seen him this overcome with emotion before. Usually he was so controlled and confident... what had happened since she had seen him last? she wondered, concerned. What had he endured without her?
"Harry," she said gently, "please tell me... everything. Everything that you can bear."
And so he did. He told her about tying up the lifeboats, about looking for her in every boat, in every face. He told her how he transferred all the women and children from his boat into other boats so as not to endanger them when he went back to the wreckage. And he told about how his handpicked crew slowly maneuvered through the bodies, looking, looking... for anyone alive, but especially for her.
"How- how did you eventually find me?" she asked.
He told her about coming across the first collapsible, and then the strange sight of the men standing on a piece of flotsam. He evacuated all the survivors before he found out that there was a woman's body still on the sinking collapsible... here, he stopped, unable to finish. But she knew the rest; it had been her, and he must have found her just barely in time to save her life.
"I went back for you, you know," he said hoarsely. "I promised I would, and... I never stopped looking," he told her, gazing up into her eyes. "I knew you were out there - somehow I knew - and I wasn't going to give up until I found you."
Sudden pain lanced through her heart. He had so clearly suffered... and it was all her fault. If only she had made it into a boat before the ship sank...! "Oh, Harry," she breathed. "I am so sorry... for causing you so much worry and trouble..."
His expression grew stern. "Nonsense, Corrine," he said firmly. "Do not apologize for surviving. You managed to beat the odds; how you did it was... risky, but ultimately irrelevant. You did what you had to do to live, and there'll be no judgement from me on it. Besides," he said, and she saw a glimmer of his usual impudent manner return, "by climbing into that collapsible, you made my job easier."
"How so?" she wondered.
His face turned serious again. "Because if I hadn't found you out there in the sea, or on this ship after I unloaded my passengers... I was going to hop right back in that lifeboat and keep looking. I'd still be out there now," he confessed quietly.
She looked at him, aghast, and shook her head slowly as his words sunk in. They both knew there would have been no hope for her if she hadn't found the swamped boat. The implication was that he would still be searching... for her body. Tears threatened to spill over onto her cheeks, but seeing his bleak expression, she held them back, not wanting to upset him further.
She tried to squeeze his hand to reassure him, but her fingers barely twitched in his grip. "But you did find me, Harry. I'm alive because of you," she managed to get out, her voice quavering with emotion. "Thank you... for rescuing me..." She had to find a way to express her appreciation for everything he had done for her - it suddenly seemed like the most important thing in the world - but her words were inadequate, and she trailed off, unable to continue. She wanted to tell him so much more: how profoundly grateful she was that he hadn't given up on her... that she never would have survived without the thought of him to cling to in the darkness... that she loved him so very much... but she suddenly felt overwhelmed and so incredibly tired...
He read the exhaustion and anguish in her face, and his expression swiftly changed from solemn to concerned. "Corrine, are you all right? Should I call for the doctor?"
"I'm fine... just... sleepy..." she whispered, her eyes drifting shut, wanting to block out the overpowering flood of feelings brought about by the tragedy and her near brush with death, which had shaken both of them to their cores.
"Rest then, my darling," he murmured in her ear, kissing her forehead.
Right before she floated off to sleep, she heard the squeak of springs and felt the mattress dip lower as he climbed into the bed. He wrapped his body around hers, pulling her against his chest and holding her tightly. She breathed in his familiar scent, nestling against him, and for the first time since she had awakened on the night of the sinking to find their lives forever changed, she knew peace.
Echoing far away, as if down a long tunnel, she heard him whisper: "As long as I'm here, nothing will ever hurt you again..."
Enveloped in his warm embrace, sheltered from the newly uncertain world they now inhabited, Corrine let the darkness take her.
Mary Fabian was a first-class passenger on Carpathia, and actually did have a conversation with RealLowe while he was onboard, hence why she was chosen as the POV for the second section.