Well, my dear readers, we are nearing the end of this tale. After this chapter, there will be only four more, followed by a few epilogues and a postscript. I can't believe that you all have come this far on the journey with me - it has been an honor to hear from so many of you these past few months! If you have read, commented, liked, or followed this story, all I can say is THANK YOU, from the bottom of my heart.

I'm glad you all weren't put off by the love scene last week; I wasn't sure what to expect, haha. This chapter is relatively tame, though ;)


Corrine woke some time later to find Harry watching her.

"How do you feel, my darling?" he murmured in her ear.

She stretched luxuriously, then winced slightly as she felt an aching in places she had never ached before. "A little sore," she admitted, blushing.

"We can try and fix that," he said with a lopsided grin. "But how about here?" He touched her heart.

She knew what he meant. "I feel... refreshed. At peace." She smiled up at him. "Hopelessly in love."

He brushed the hair from her face and kissed her forehead, her cheeks, the tip of her nose, then pulled back and gazed down at her. "And I am madly in love with you." He grinned. "We're quite the pair, aren't we?"

Unable to speak, she just nodded. The brush of his lips against her skin had caused the blood to rush to all her sensitive areas again, and her body thrummed with the remembered echoes of their earlier intimacy.

He noted the change in her expression and quirked an eyebrow, reading her mind. "Oh no you don't, you greedy girl. You need to satisfy... other needs first." He sat up, suddenly businesslike, and wagged a finger at her.

"Like what?" she asked, trying to distract herself from her naughty thoughts.

"Well, I thought a bath might help soothe your... sore bits." A look of shame flitted across his features, and he said apologetically, "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Corrine..."

"Don't you dare, Harry Lowe," she admonished him. "I asked for it - and I got exactly what I wanted, didn't I?" She winked and grinned at him, and his shoulders relaxed a bit. "Fine, then, a bath it is." But only if you join me, she thought wickedly. "Anything else?"

He gestured to her body, lying exposed on the bed. "And you're gorgeous, but you're wasting away. You need to eat. So I've taken the liberty of ordering food up to the room."

She giggled. "From the restaurant? Whatever will Mr. Chaffee say when he finds out he's feeding one of the employees from his own restaurant - in a guest's room?"

"He won't know," he assured her. "I'm claiming it's for me - and the bill is courtesy of the American taxpayers." He grinned smugly. "So eat up, my darling. If those bastards are going to hold me against my will, it's going to cost them dearly."

She laughed again and was about to get up when his cheeky comment reminded her of something. "Speaking of," she said, raising up on her elbow, "You curse pretty emphatically when you're making love, you know."

"I- I do? Really?" he said, flustered. "I didn't know that," he mused, as if to himself. "I'm sorry-" he began, looking contrite, but Corrine interrupted.

"Don't be," she said. "I find it charming... and, well, er, very sensual." Her voice had dropped, low and husky, on the last few words.

"You mean... you were aroused by... my filthy language?" he asked incredulously, an amused glint coming into his eye.

"Yes," she whispered, gazing back at him intently, heart pounding suddenly.

This time, the invitation in her eyes was unavoidable. He hesitated, and then reached out to stroke her cheek.

"Eat first, Corrine, and have a nice soak, and then we'll see." At her look of embarrassment and disappointment, he hastened to reassure her. "I'm not rejecting you." He kissed her gently. "I'm taking care of you. Please, let me care for you."

She nodded, conceding at last, and he smiled gratefully. As he rose from the bed, she sat up, wrapping the sheet around her body. She nearly swooned as she watched him pull his trousers on. My, his body was... perfect. She could stare at him all day.

Or stay in bed with him all day. She was taken aback by the fierceness of her need, but she couldn't help it - becoming one with him had awakened an insatiable hunger for his body that she wasn't sure she could ever quench. The first few minutes may have been uncomfortable, but oh, the kissing, the touching... and the feeling of having him inside of her... she was dying to give it another go as soon as possible. If he had let her, she would have dragged him back to bed immediately and made him do it all over again.

She blushed at her fevered thoughts, at the lurid images in her brain. Was she supposed to feel this way? Would Harry think less of her if he knew? A sudden knock at the door in the sitting room made her jump guiltily, sure that someone had read her mind and come to reprimand her, before she remembered that it was probably the room service he ordered. Sure enough, she heard Harry thank and tip the man, and then close the door. Chiding herself for her ridiculous notions, she resolved to put away her feelings of self-reproach, at least for the present. For now, she wanted to make the most of her time with Harry.

While he was laying out the food on the table in the other room, she hunted around for her clothes, and decided with a shrug not to bother. She emerged from the bedroom with the sheet still wound around her, and he snorted at her modesty, but let her be.

As he bustled around the table, he said over his shoulder, "I have to warn you, Corrine - the food in America is rubbish. I feel like I haven't had a proper meal since-"

"Since the night of the sinking?" she prompted gently.

He turned around and nodded, his face growing serious.

Her heart suddenly felt heavy as she once again thought of everything that had been lost that fateful night. "So much has changed, Harry," she said softly, "including us."

He walked slowly toward her, reaching out to take her hands in his. "We'll never be the same people we once were, Corrine. But we'll find our way through this to the other side. I promise. We can do anything, as long as we are one."

He pulled her to him then, and as she stood in the circle of his arms, feeling the comfort of his assurances wash over her, she believed that anything was possible.


She disagreed with him about the food. It tasted delicious, and she demolished everything on her plate. She was reaching for seconds when Harry looked quizzically at her. "And when was the last time you ate any solid food at all, Corrine?"

"Not sure." She swallowed a mouthful and deliberated. "Maybe on the Carpathia? No, I think it was on Titanic..."

An expression of guilt flickered over his face. "More, then," he urged, and then smiled devilishly. "You'll need your strength for what I have planned for you."

She grinned back. "That had better be a promise, Mr. Lowe - because I plan to spend all night showing you how much I love you."

He whistled. "My darling, you're going to be the death of me," he said, the awe in his voice suggesting that said he wouldn't mind that at all.

She smiled in commiseration. He had no idea how many times she had thought the same about him.

But the smile died on her lips as she glanced over and saw that a newspaper had been delivered with the meal. She read the headline - 'Hearers Weep as Titanic Officer Tells Story of Needless Loss of Life,' the Washington Times blared - and her heart gave a sudden lurch.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively.

"Mmmm?" he said around a mouthful of food. Despite his protestations about the quality, he had no problem tucking in, she noted.

"Has it been difficult for you... to sit through the inquiry?"

He laid his fork down carefully, his appetite vanishing at once. "Yes." A pause. "Every day I hear a new witness' story, a new angle, new information - and I have to relive it all over again. And the man chairing the hearings, Senator Smith, is dead from the neck up." He clenched his jaw, and his eyes went cold. "He made Pitman cry on the stand today."

"That's terrible!" she exclaimed. "Why?"

"Berating him about not going back for survivors. Smith's not only an ignoramus, he's cruel." Harry's eyes were haunted. "He doesn't know what that was like," he said softly. "None of us in the boats will ever forget those sounds - and none of us will be able to forgive ourselves for not doing more. He doesn't need to add insult to injury."

"But Harry, you did go back-" she protested.

"Not soon enough," he said grimly, and she knew with a sinking heart that nothing she could say was ever going to console him. Still, she would not - could not - let that statement go unchallenged.

"For the people you saved, it was enough," she said firmly. Her stern look at him told him that he had better not argue - especially with one of his own survivors. So instead, he resumed the discussion where they had left off.

"Your friend Mr. Lightoller - who needs to learn to mind his own business, by the way - has been busy whitewashing the matter entirely, trying to protect White Star - and his own arse, of course," he said drily.

"I saw that," she said with a smile. He frowned, and she quickly clarified, "I mean, I read it in the papers. And I understand," she said soothingly. "I see it as he's trying to protect his mates, Harry - both living and dead. And all the what-ifs in the world won't change anything now, anyway. It was the lifeboats," she reminded him quietly. "You said so yourself. There just weren't enough for everyone."

"There was more to it than that, Corrine," he said, looking away and sighing. He ran a hand through his hair and finally said, "We were careless, all of us officers. We treated the ice messages so casually. And we were going too fast for the conditions. We should have been more cautious - we should have known better."

"Don't you dare blame yourself, Harry," she said, so vehemently that he looked up at her with surprise. "There is nothing you could have done differently," she emphasized. You weren't steering that ship; you weren't the officer of the watch; you weren't the captain." She paused to make sure that she had his complete attention, and then said softly, "None of this was your fault."

And it was the truth. She knew it, but she needed him to hear it, to believe it. His guilt, if left to fester, might eventually be his undoing... and the thought of him living with that pain as it slowly ate away his insides was unbearable.

He was looking at her strangely, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. She saw his expression change from skeptical to contemplative, and then gradually to a pathetic sort of hope, a desperate eagerness to believe that tugged at her heartstrings. This last was followed by look of profound gratitude; his eyes practically glowed with it as he gazed at her across the table. He reached out and took her hand, unable to speak for a minute.

She almost sagged with relief at his reaction. She knew it wouldn't be the last time they had this conversation... but she would be there for him, now and in the future, to offer him the absolution he desperately needed. And she allowed herself a glimmer of hope that he might be able to forgive himself someday as well.

"Thank you, Corrine, for always believing I'm a better man than I am," he murmured finally, stroking her fingers with his own. "And maybe... maybe you're right. Maybe everything was against us that night."

He played with her hand as they both pondered the extraordinary set of circumstances that led to the disaster. From what she had read and knew, though, she didn't think that the accident had been inevitable. Corrine's inclination was to blame the captain's negligence, but she would never tell Harry that - it might sound blasphemous to a ship's officer. If he wanted to believe that fate caused the accident, let him; it was better than blaming himself. But one thought still bothered her.

"Do... do you think they're going to try and pin the collision on Mr. Murdoch?" The idea troubled her greatly; she hated the thought of that selfless man's legacy being tarnished.

"I hope not," said Harry firmly. "Certainly I find no fault in what he did. I would've given the exact same orders myself, and I'll tell them so if they ask."

"Oh, I bet you will," she said with a small smile. She knew Harry; it would be hard for him to rein in his rash and hotheaded nature when challenged.

As if reading her mind, he said, "I have to tread a careful line between honesty and disrespect - but I'll be brutal if that idiot Smith insults me."

"When do you get your say, Harry?"

"I'm due to testify tomorrow, actually."

Her eyes widened; she hadn't known that. "So you're going to let him have it, then - or are you going to try and behave yourself?" she teased. She didn't care if she was egging him on; she was just wanted to see a glimpse of the old Harry again.

"All I can say is that I'll put in a performance worthy of you," he promised solemnly, a hand over his chest - and a mischievous gleam in his eye. She looked at him skeptically - she wasn't quite sure what he meant by that - but he had already turned back to his food, still smirking.

When they had finished, she sat back with a sigh. He was watching her again, his elbow resting on the table and his head propped on his hand, a whimsical smile playing around his mouth.

"What?" she asked.

He just shook his head, and she got up and walked over to him, taking his hand and leading him to the settee. He sat down and she crawled into his lap again, resting her head on his shoulder as she had done before. He played with her hair as she stroked his bare chest with her hand, making little contented noises in her throat. There was no passion in their gestures, just comfort and reassurance, the joy of reconnecting, of a shared love that could no longer be broken.

After a time he eased her off of him and kissed the top of her head. "Now for your bath, you little layabout." She giggled at the jest and he disappeared into the bedroom; a few seconds later she heard the water running in the bath room adjoining the bedroom. She smiled as she heard him moving about in the bedroom, whistling as he presumably tidied up. She could get used to him taking care of her, she thought happily.

She wandered into the small bath room after she heard the water stop. Harry finished arranging the soaps and towels for her bath, and then held out his hand with a flourish, indicating for her to get in.

"You first," she said coyly.

He laughed, his eyes shining with amusement. "Not this time; today is all about you. But I promise you, we will indulge in that pleasure together very soon."

This time, she believed his promises whole-heartedly.

Right before she entered the tub, he reached in to check the temperature, and then drew his hand back with a hiss. "Wait, Corrine - the water is far too hot," he warned her. "I'll just run a little cold-"

But she had already dropped the sheet and was easing into the water. "Nonsense, Harry - as far as I'm concerned, water can never be too hot." Settling back in the tub, she gave a satisfied sigh and closed her eyes.

She missed the way he flinched involuntarily at her offhand words, in an echo of the pain that was never going to leave him entirely.