Hello faithful readers and thank you once again for sticking with me through all the highs and low(e)s! Lowekey: YES, I am glad you were uncertain about Harry's feelings for Corrine until that last interlude! I wanted to purposely make that ambiguous until the 'Revelation', to keep people guessing as to whether he loves her or not (one might have thought that he didn't, given what happened on the Carpathia, but now we know better!). As for Harry being a sex maniac (hi, guest reader!), I agree it could be read that way... however, I would hesitate to put a reductive label on his behavior. Harry is a very complex character - much more so than Corrine, who, although she's definitely insecure about whether she's 'worthy' of Harry, had always accepted (or at least hoped) that she'd find 'the one' someday. Harry - not so much. Over the interludes, I've tried to show that he's developed a very particular (and controversial) way to deal with his loneliness, pain, and insecurity...which makes what happened to his heart all the more remarkable. It's been a hard-fought journey for him to get to where he is now.
Now that the worst has passed, I can't tell you all how difficult it has been for me to post some of these interludes (I'm sure you know which three I'm referring to!); I literally had to hold my breath and close my eyes before I hit 'submit', haha. I realized that they may make Harry unlikeable, or negatively affect the #harrine 'ship'. Some readers may feel betrayed by the relative innocence of their story in the beginning, because this rather questionable part of Harry's personality might not have been immediately obvious back then (although there were hints!). But this has always been the plan; it just took a very special person - my dear Rosie - to convince me to be true to the story I wanted to tell, despite my fear of pushing readers away. If these interludes have resonated with you, if they've provided meaningful insight into Harry's personality, the credit should go to her; if they've seemed gratuitous or offended you, though, the blame is all on me. My final word on the matter is this: I never intended for #harrine to be a straightforward, linear romance. These two not only have to overcome extraordinary circumstances, they also have to grow as people (specifically Harry does). Because I feel a love story is more meaningful if a couple has to really earn it ;)
All right, we've heard enough from Harry for awhile, haha... it's time to get someone else's perspective. In this final interlude before the main story resumes, you'll get to hear the terse, no-nonsense voice of our catalyst for the first time. It occurs after the events in 'Unease' and the forthcoming Ismay meeting mentioned in that chapter.
Beatrice3, in answer to your comment from before, starting next week we'll get to see if Corrine can pull herself together. I hope you all will keep reading for the final part of the story ;)
Charles found him leaning on the stern railing, smoking a cigarette and staring desolately out to the sea.
He approached him cautiously. The man had been unpredictable lately - more so than usual, even - and he wasn't sure what to expect. But he had a request from the captain, and he wasn't going to back down just because this young upstart was a hard case.
"Mr. Lowe," he said by way of greeting.
The man just grunted. Charles suppressed his annoyance. He may not be his commanding officer anymore, at least not officially, but he still outranked him; Lowe should show more respect than that.
"Captain Rostron wants to know if you'll relieve Mr. Rees for the eight to midnight watch," he said, more abruptly than he had intended.
"Certainly," came the weary reply.
Charles raised his eyebrows, surprised he didn't argue. He looked closer at him. With Smith, Wilde, and Murdoch gone, the mantle of command had fallen squarely on his shoulders, and he felt a responsibility toward all of the survivors, from Mrs. Astor down to the lowliest stoker. And yes, he thought ruefully, for this cranky junior officer as well. The anguish on Lowe's face told him that something was on his mind... and Charles supposed he should try to find out what it was.
"What's eating you?" he asked finally. "Is it Ismay?"
"That fucking twat," Lowe snarled unexpectedly. He spat on the deck in disgust.
Charles was no stranger to swearing, yet even he was shocked at the vulgarity - and the vehemence behind it. He recoiled slightly.
"I can't believe he called that meeting to tell us he's ordering us back to England at the earliest opportunity. Trying to spirit us out of town..." his face twisted and he spat again.
Why he sounds just like a spoiled child, Charles thought, disgusted. What the hell is wrong with him?
Lowe went on. "What's his damn hurry, anyway? Why can't we stay in New York for a few days? He's got us running like cowards! I don't even know how he's sending these messages - they say he hasn't left his cabin at all."
Charles studiously avoided his eyes. Lowe didn't know that he was the one delivering the messages to the Marconi room, arranging the details for Ismay. Charles was trying to please his boss, yes - but he also wanted to return home as soon as possible for his own selfish reason: Sylvia. But he kept quiet about all of that; no need to aggravate the man further.
"You mean you don't want to go back?" Charles inquired, curious about the man's motives despite his offensive behavior.
"Yes- No... I don't know." Lowe exhaled in frustration. "I just... it's too soon."
And then it hit him like a blow: Corrine. Lowe didn't want to leave his girl.
Charles didn't know much about her plans once she arrived in America, but he did know that Irish women didn't book steerage tickets on passenger liners for a lark. She had likely decided to move there permanently to start a new life... and that would throw a definite wrench into her blossoming relationship with Lowe.
"How does Miss Donnelly feel about the news of your return?" he asked gently, getting straight to the point.
Lowe took a long drag on his smoke before answering. "She doesn't know yet," he admitted. "I- I didn't know how to tell her." His expression had turned despairing, and in it Charles could see the uncertainty, the hopelessness, that haunted him. Despite his prickly nature, this man did indeed have a heart, and was clearly suffering. Charles's own heart went out to him.
"You didn't mean to fall in love with her, did you?" he asked laconically.
That elicited a reaction. Lowe's jaw jutted. "Who says that I did?" he challenged.
"You just wanted to keep living your carefree life," Charles continued as if he hadn't spoken. "Meaningless physical encounters, no emotional attachments, a girl in every port." For some reason, Lowe flinched at that phrase.
"You don't know anything," Lowe muttered resentfully.
"I know more than you think I know," he said enigmatically. More than maybe even you yourself know, he finished in his own head. But he wasn't going to mention Florence Ismay. Sylvia had told him that secret in strictest confidence, and he would never betray his wife, for this man or for anyone else.
Lowe was looking at him suspiciously, so Charles changed tack.
"I was once like you, you know," he said philosophically.
Lowe stared at him, his expression incredulous, and Charles snorted arrogantly. "What - you think women weren't falling all over themselves to shag me, too? That's the life of a ship's officer, and believe me, I took full advantage - same as you."
Lowe looked down, eyes filled with shame, as both of them recalled that night on the Titanic after the Cherbourg stop.
After some time passed, Lowe's curiosity got the best of him, and he asked, "So what changed?"
Charles stared out to the sea, and a small smile traced his lips as he remembered. "Sylvia. She changed everything." Then he eyed Lowe. "You got another one of those fags?"
Lowe nodded silently and passed him one. He lit it from Lowe's outstretched smoke, puffed for a minute, and then continued.
"I was working the Australia run. She was a passenger returning to her home country - only eighteen at the time, and a feisty little thing." He smiled, and then winked at Lowe. "Those are the keepers, you know - the ones with spirit." Lowe's mouth curled up in a reluctant smile, and he nodded, likely thinking of his Corrine. "Anyway, she has a club foot, and had difficulty getting around the ship... so she charmed me into carrying her up and down the stairs, around the companionways... before I knew it I was carrying her into my cabin, and, well... I'm sure you know what happened then." He chuckled. "We had a good long time to get to know one another... and by the end of the voyage, we got married. She came back to England with me, and we had our honeymoon on the return passage - while I was still serving as an officer, mind you."
The irony of telling his story to this man - whom he had so recently berated for his dalliances with passengers, including Corrine - was not lost on Charles. With a wry grin, he acknowledged for the first time that he and young Mr. Lowe were not that different, after all.
He looked back over to find Lowe staring intently at him. "So you're saying I should marry Corrine and take her back home with me?" His tone was cynical and mocking... but Charles didn't miss how his eyes suddenly lit with a pathetic sort of hope. He shifted uncomfortably.
"Well, it worked for me... but she's have to be willing, of course," he amended quickly. He didn't want to put ideas into the younger man's head, give him cause to be more impetuous than he already was... all he wanted to do was provide a little bit of reassurance. "Maybe you can start by seeing if she'd return to England. You should still have a day or so to convince her," he said consolingly. Although, if Ismay's latest request comes through...
"Why are you telling me all this, anyway? I thought you hated me," Lowe mumbled sullenly. He wouldn't meet Charles's eyes.
Charles turned slowly toward him, making sure he had Lowe's full attention before continuing. "Hate is a very personal emotion, Mr. Lowe - and I don't know you well enough to hate you."
"Fine - let's say you disliked me from the start, then, shall we?" he said sarcastically.
"I'm wary of any hotshot junior officer swaggering onto the bridge with a chip on his shoulder," Charles shot back. "It wouldn't hurt for you to find some humility, you know."
Lowe blinked in surprise at the bald statement.
"I may not like some of the things you've done..." He trailed off as he thought of the weak, quivering man in the doctor's room belowdecks. Oh, if only you knew... "But I think your insecurity - for that's what it really is - has more to do with you than with me. You're a loner, Mr. Lowe - and there's nothing wrong with that... but opening up a little, trusting someone, won't kill you, either."
He turned and found Lowe staring at him, dumbfounded. Didn't expect to be called out, did he? Well, Lowe wasn't the only man who could be blunt.
He took a draw on his cigarette, allowing Lowe to regain his composure before he finally explained himself. "I'm only trying to help you, mate. We're going to go through hell with the Board of Trade once we get home. It doesn't make sense for you to be suffering your own personal hell, too."
"Damn me for a fool, I do love her," Lowe ground out abruptly, as if the admission were painful. Perhaps it was - love was often the root of a man's suffering, after all.
"I don't blame you," Charles said frankly. "Miss Donnelly is an incredible woman."
"How would you know? You barely know her," Lowe growled, his temper returning, and Charles noted that his voice was tinged with possessiveness.
Charles ignored his blustering and shrugged. "She'd have to be, to survive the way she did," he said matter of factly. He took another long pull on his cigarette as he tried to forget the feel of that icy water.
"She's been through a lot-"
"I know what she's been through!" Charles snapped, finally losing his patience.
Lowe looked down, chastened. When he finally spoke again, he was hesitant, his voice soft. "What was it like... in the water?"
Charles blew out a deep breath. "You don't need to know," he said shortly, looking away. He suppressed his automatic shudder. He wouldn't - couldn't - talk about it with anyone... except maybe Sylvia, when he returned home at last... and, he realized with surprise, with Corrine. Their similar experiences had bonded them in a peculiar way that no one else could understand... and that sense of camaraderie prompted his next statement.
"One more piece of advice, Mr. Lowe. Whatever you do, don't hurt her," he warned. "I suspect more than one person would see you flogged for it."
"Oh, and I suppose you'd be one of them?" Lowe asked defiantly, his insecurity on full display again.
He shrugged. "Perhaps. I've grown quite fond of her, despite our rather inauspicious beginning." He saw Lowe fume, but he didn't care. It was true - and if Charles hadn't met Sylvia all those years ago, he would've given Lowe a run for his money. He continued, "She deserves the best. And I'm not sure you're it, Mr. Lowe," he said honestly. "Depends on if you can pull yourself together."
Once again, he saw that Lowe was shocked into speechlessness. If he had known it would be this easy to humble the man, to shake the arrogance out of him, he would have told him the truth long ago.
"What you did, going back for the survivors... that was noble. I won't call you a hero-" he held up his hand as Lowe started to retort. "That's for starry-eyed passengers, and you don't need a bigger ego than you already have." Lowe's mouth quirked up in a half grin as he acknowledged the truth in his words. "But you're a damn good officer - one of the best I've ever seen. Try to be a good man, too."
Surprise and pleasure flickered over Lowe's face at the unexpected flattery, but was quickly replaced by a sober, thoughtful expression. He stared out at the sea as he mulled over the words for several minutes. Finally he spoke, and to Charles's surprise it was with the measured, mature voice of a man who had looked inside himself objectively and acknowledged some painful but honest truths. "Thank you, Mr. Lightoller... for listening to me. And for your advice." He nodded, as if to himself. "I'll try to take it."
"You can call me Lights, you know," Charles said. He flicked his spent cigarette over the rail and walked away, leaving the younger man staring after him in contemplative silence.
Ah, Charles. He tries to pour oil on the troubled water that is Harry's mind - and instead plants an idea in his head that may have inadvertently contributed to the breakup. What he doesn't realize is that he's trying to step into some very big shoes when it comes to giving Harry advice :( And yet the plan they had concocted might have worked, were it not for Ismay's rush to get the officers on board the Cedric and back to England, which put a giant wrench in everything - and made Harry lose his damn mind...