Well... am I beyond embarrassed by this.

When I first updated this story, I meant to not only see it through to the end, but to actually try and be faster with my updates. Instead... it takes literal years for me to post the next chapter of this story. I... I honestly can't even say anything about this.

Part of me does want to try... but at the same time, I am worried that anything I might say will just come across as excuses, and I simply can't think of anything appropriate enough to say after I made any readers who are still following this wait so long for an update... but to say the utter bare minimum, which I feel you all deserve, and which I do mean, I'm sorry.

I thank you all who are still interested in this story from the bottom of my heart.

I truly hope that you like this chapter.

I – Reshuffle

Southampton, onboard the RMS Titanic, April 9th, 15:15, GMT

He didn't like it.

Any uncharitable soul who happened to be nearby and could somehow hear thoughts might call him anything from melodramatic to a wuss, and say such attitudes weren't fitting for any seaman in this day and age. But as he stood on the port wing of the RMS Titanic's bridge, his blue eyes peering out into the gray waters while he took a drag off of a cigarette, Henry Tingle Wilde could not spare a bit of care for how fitting his attitudes were, all of his concern devoted to how much he disliked what was to come.

He was old and rational enough to be fully aware that his personal feelings wouldn't change the situation one bit, but that didn't make him like it more.

And, unlike what had often been the case over the last days, he wasn't referring to the ship he stood on.

Not for the most part, anyway. He thought as he looked up and blew a cloud of smoke at the partially overcast sky, some tiny part of his soul wishing he could fly after it.

It was true that his dislike for the Titanic played a role in his dislike for the current situation, but the bulk of the latter sentiment was due to what he knew he would have to deal with soon. The follow-up to the final, unsurmountable piece of evidence that despite his wishes and hopes, he would be staying onboard the Titanic for its maiden voyage after all.

Wilde knew it was not an expected feeling to have, what with all the titles the press had been bestowing to the ship, not to mention how many passengers and crewmembers were surely thankful to be onboard the Titanic after their original passages and jobs were canceled or denied because of the recent coal strike. And that was without bringing up other people who had been affected by it, the unluckiest of which, if newspapers were anything to go by, either had ended up on the streets or had not even lived to see the results that the strike had achieved for coal miners.

The urge to stoop from the weight of shame invaded him. Thinking upon all those things, his current thoughts on the ship and traveling on it only looked even worse in comparison.

Yet even when taking all those factors into account, he didn't like it. And for the life of him, he couldn't explain why.

Well, that was not entirely true. He could give some obvious reasons as to why. Staying on the Titanic would send him away from home at a time when it wouldn't be the worst of ideas to try to stay, and he would also be stepping on a few toes by staying onboard, including those of one of his good friends. But beyond those explainable and clear reasons, there was something more nebulous, something he couldn't pin down, and yet remained with him and imbued him with dislike towards the idea of leaving. And that was what he could not explain.

Not that it would make a difference if he could, as getting himself out of the trip at this point had always been difficult at best, and at this point it would prove borderline impossible. Still, it might ease his spirits if he could utter a reason as to why being on this ship filled him with so much unease, one more concrete than the vague bad feeling that seemed to hover around him like a ghost.

Were Wilde a different kind of sailor, that would just be what many landlubbers would term a 'silly sailor superstition', of the kind that had been more common in ages past (though Wilde had met a few sailors who still had them), but would turn out to be for nothing when the trip was over and done with.

And for all he knew, it might indeed be just that.

But that didn't make him feel any better. Even when he was apprenticing, Wilde hadn't been the superstitious sort (although he wouldn't claim to be completely immune to superstitions) and now, after over twenty years at sea, any traces of such a tendency had all but faded away.

Why was he having it now?

Irritation flaring through him, Wilde raised the cigarette to his mouth and took another drag, this one short and swift. His lips pursed as if it would make him swallow his bad feeling, before he blew out the smoke like it was something solid to be spat instead.

Whatever the reason, it was something he would have to deal with. And whatever the reason, it wouldn't make any difference when it came to his predicament.

Most unfortunate. Wilde couldn't help but think, noting as the thought echoed in his mind that it was the exact sort of thing his top boss would say, even if the voice speaking in his head didn't sound like that man's in the least.

And thank heavens for that.

He might not dislike his boss as much as some of his fellow officers did, but thinking of how Joseph Bruce Ismay might react to such considerations was not pleasant. Depending on the man's mood when he learned of them, it could run the whole gamut from awkward but sincere reassurances to a spiel about how Wilde should know better than to fall to such childish musings. And no matter which reaction turned out to be final, they would all have one of two outcomes, which would be either him having to swallow his discomfort and stay on board, or him being left behind and harming his career for the rest of his days, with all the repercussions that would follow.

The air in his lungs appearing to thicken, Wilde brought it up in a slow, heavy sigh, his breath billowing it out of him like he was one of the wind personifications of old myths trying to blow into a ship's sail to help it on its journey.

If only his career was all he had to be worried about.

Were that the only issue, Wilde might simply heed his feeling, come up with some excuse to stay ashore, and live more frugally until he got assigned to his next ship. But he wasn't only responsible for himself, and this trip's wages would help him keep his savings for a rainy day. Besides, if he went back home with the excuse that he'd stayed just because of a vague bad feeling, he might be setting a bad example. And if he tried to lie about the true reason and was caught, said example would only be even worse. In the end, it was best to keep a stiff upper lip and endure the stay.

A stay that he already knew wouldn't be pleasant.

A snorted chuckle split from him at the thought. Wilde might not be much for jest and silliness - unlike a certain other officer - but even he couldn't help but see the humor in his understatement, even if the actual idea of sailing off on the Titanic wasn't funny in the least. After all, misfortune should never be a reason to laugh, even if it was his own.

You might as well laugh. He told himself, his eyes falling on the orange glow peeking through the ash on the cigarette's end. You need what few sources of joy you can get these days.

Against that piece of self-given advice, the thought immediately erased all traces of mirth from his expression and mood alike. Like it was following a cue in a theater production, the very air around him seemed to darken, as if a thicker cloud had just gotten before the Sun and cast its shadow on him. Seemingly emphasized by the decrease in ambient light, the cigarette's end glowed brighter, as if the hidden flame was trying to rile him up through sheer contrats.

His throat lashed by a sudden bitterness, Wilde narrowed his eyes and flicked the cigarette overboard. But as the nearly spent stub vanished in the distance between the Titanic's deck and the ocean, the sting left by the bout of bitterness remained. His spirits sinking like a stone in water, Wilde took a deep breath, but his lungs seemed to be even emptier when he finished.

Why did those memories come up now, of all times?

Not that they were good at any moment, even over a year after everything had happened, but some moments were still worse than others, and this was about the last time when he had the luxury to be in that state of mind. Giving free rein to his feelings was for when he managed to get private moments at home with all other concerns put at bay for the time being, not for when he was about to start a job that had so much resting on his shoulders.

Yet, even as his mind took notice of that, his spirits stayed as low as they were, nothing he thought of pulling them up.

It was even worse than being haunted by the silly sailor superstition. At least that one was bound to be nothing in the end.

But this… this was all too real. More than that, it had been real for too long, and despite his best efforts, all current forecasts came empty on the prediction of when it would. If this ever came to an end, Wilde might actually think he was dreaming.

"Mr. Wilde?"

Wilde almost jumped in place.

While it had been a normal question, asked in a conversational tone from not three feet away, he felt as if he had been hit by cannonfire that had come out without any sort of prior warning, so much so that the seaman's cap on his head actually jostled a bit and sloped downwards over his left temple.

Not a novel experience, if he was honest with himself. He'd lost count of the number of times he had dwelt so deeply on this matter that getting him out of it was like needing to wake up a sleeping person by shouting in their ears. The only consolation was that this was the first time it happened at a time when he should be minimally alert and ready to get on duty, rather than on his own time and with relative freedom to let his mind wander.

Still, it's one time too many.

It should have been impossible, but Wilde's spirits sank another edge deeper.

But, like they had hit the bottom and needed that to gain enough impetus to come back up, the weight on his chest lessened enough that his focus returned and he turned back to the man who had addressed him, the familiar discipline honed by years at sea spreading through his being.

Before he could say anything, however, a second question came, though this time he could see the speaker looking at him and saw his mouth moving as he spoke.

"Penny for your thoughts?" Captain Edward John Smith asked him, his eyes probing and his white eyebrows straightened into a line.

Wilde's throat tightened. Despite the relative harmlessness of it and the concerned tone, that wasn't a question he liked to have anyone asking him these days, much less his immediate superior who trusted him for assistance in running the ship at sea. Besides being an additional burden for him to deal with, it was a blow against the trust and dependability Wilde wanted to both convey and earn.

Adjusting his cap, Wilde adjusted his cap back over his brown hair, stood as straight as he could, and replied, "My apologies, Captain. I should have been paying more attention."

Captain Smith's eyes seemed to narrow another fraction.

"That's not what I asked."

A tinge of bitterness lashed at Wilde's mouth. This was the sort of situation he would rather avoid. Unfortunately, by now there was only one way to do so, and the only reason it even existed was because it was when addressing this particular captain. Were he talking to any other, he would not dare do so.

Taking a subtle breath, Wilde replied, "With all due respect, I would rather not talk about that, sir." After a pause to make sure the answer sank in, he added, "I am aware your question came from a place of concern, but this is something I need to deal with on my own, and I am well aware I still have my duties to perform."

The Captain's expression didn't change. Wilde waited with bated breath. Smith was probably the only captain in the White Star Line to whom he could have given this sort of answer - and even then he wouldn't have dared to give it if he didn't know the man's appearance completely belied his generally pleasant nature - but no man made it to Captain by being pushed around or not having lines that could be crossed. Wilde knew him well enough to be reasonably sure he hadn't crossed any this time, but there was always some room for error.

Thankfully, after a few seconds, the Captain gave him a pleasant smile and said, "I understand. But if you do feel you need to talk, I will try my best. I'm no Thomas Andrews, but I can still spare an ear and some words to a good seaman under my command."

Wilde nodded. "I appreciate that, Captain."

The Captain's smile stayed in place for a moment longer, before he too straightened himself up and spoke in a voice that, while still conversational, had a tinge of firmness and authority to it.

"The others are at the officers' mess to hear the news. If you would please come with me?"

Wilde nodded once more. "Yes, sir."

With nothing else for either of them to say, the Captain turned around and started heading for the gate leading to the main portion of the boat deck.

For some odd reason, Wilde couldn't help but direct a look at the sky, like the clouds were about to clear up to let the sun cast down a figurative ray of hope. But they did not.

Then again, there would be no reason for them to. Why he had thought they would do so begged the question of what course his sanity might be sailing through. A question that likely would not have a very pleasant answer.

But whatever it was exactly, there was nothing to be done now. Nothing other than to follow the Captain and do what was expected of him, and keep doing just that until he was back at Southampton.

Again, Wilde took a deep breath (which to his relief actually seemed to fill his lungs this time) and walked after Captain Smith, steeling himself for what he felt would be the first of many unpleasant tasks for the next three weeks.

If there was anything positive to be said, it was that the first unpleasant task seemed to follow a predictable pattern. Like had happened many times before, knowing that something unpleasant lay ahead was akin to knowing there was an inevitable storm on the horizon and wishing it would take as long as possible to arrive, but when it was finally time, it seemed to be all too soon.

And it was so that Wilde felt when he finally got to the door to the officers' quarters and Captain Smith raised his knuckles to the door and landed three gentle raps on the wood, as polite as the knock expected from a nobleman, but firm enough to be heard over a moderate conversation.

After a few moments, Smith put his head to the doorknob and turned it, pushing the door open for the two of them to walk in.

Six familiar men - some more than others, but all men that Wilde knew - had turned to look at them as they walked in. Wilde could already tell even without looking at all of them in return. He could only see the faces of four of the men inside: Sixth Officer James Moody, Second Officer David Blair, Third Officer Herbert Pitman, and Fourth Officer Joseph Boxhall, all of them looking slightly confused. But even though there were three officers he wasn't seeing, Wilde could also tell how the three others felt.

Yet as if to make sure no doubts would remain, an outraged hiss from a familiar voice pricked at his ears, barely audible even in the quiet room, but loud enough that his hearing just barely picked it up.

"What's he doing here?"

Pointedly turning his head to the right in a two o'clock direction, Wilde pointedly narrowed his eyes and locked gazes with the Titanic's First Officer, Charles Herbert Lightoller.

"I heard that," he mouthed, most of his expression calm, but his eyes blazing with all the intensity he intended to convey through them, even as he closed the door behind himself.

The shorter and leaner man blinked at the stare, alarm flashing in his expression. Then, although his posture turned formal, a glare blazed on his face, like he was both owning up to his words and saying he wasn't sorry he'd uttered them, even as the Titanic's Chief Officer, their mutual friend William McMaster Murdoch, elbowed his left side with a warning look.

Wilde met Lightoller gaze for a few moments, then slowly turned away from it as he followed Captain Smith to the other side of the room, where he turned to face the others as well as he could - a somewhat difficult task, considering that Fifth Officer Harold Lowe was standing a few steps away from the rest, like he felt he didn't fit in with the others. Stopping at the Captain's left, Wilde also turned to the others as the Captain began to speak.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," he greeted them. "My apologies for keeping you waiting, but there were a few unexpected issues to sort out."

Smith's words were acknowledged with a few scattered nods, most of the other officers looking both confused and curious at what could be coming. The only exceptions were Lightoller, who kept glaring at Wilde like his presence was one of the issues that needed sorting out, and Murdoch, who looked like he wanted to beg Smith not to speak, but was doing his best to maintain enough professionalism to take what he was sure would come with as much dignity as he could.

Again waiting a moment as if to make sure the others understood, the Captain gestured towards Wilde, and everyone's gaze turned to him, except for Murdoch, who now seemed to be avoiding his gaze as if he felt guilty of something.

"I am sure you all know this, but to guarantee proper introductions are made, this is Mr. Henry Wilde, who has served as Chief Officer of the Olympic on several of her trips."

Once more, Smith paused. Lightoller took that moment to flash a glare at Wilde again. And as it happened, Murdoch risked a glance up too at that moment, his expression unreadable. But Wilde had enough of an idea of what he was thinking that a pang of guilt hit his chest.

'Sorry, old pal.' Wilde tried to convey during the brief moment they caught each other's eyes.

It was all he had time to do before the Captain spoke again.

"As a result of that, and in an attempt to ensure that the Titanic's maiden voyage goes smoothly after all the hiccups she's been involved in so far, Mr. Wilde is going to step in as the Titanic's Chief Officer for her maiden voyage." Looks of understanding dawned upon everyone except for Lightoller, who remained angry, and Murdoch, who was still trying his best to look stoic. "However, to allow for him to step in…" Smith turned his eyes to Murdoch, "... you will have to become First Officer, Mr. Murdoch…" the Captain's gaze shifted to Lightoller, "..and you will take the position of Second Officer, Mr. Lightoller."

Despite the frequent stereotypes about his ethnicity, Murdoch managed to retain a cool enough head that he just barely managed to keep most of his expression stoic, although sadness flooded his eyes. The pang of guilt struck Wilde again, even stronger than before.

The moment this conversation ended, he'd have to talk to him about this.

Again, a shift in movement caught his eyes, which turned to Lightoller on time to see his look of anger doubling in intensity, his mouth opening as if one outraged shout was about to burst from it. Like a button had been pressed, a stern look burst on his face and he leaned slightly towards the other man. He might not like this in the least himself, but there was nothing to be done now, and if Lightoller tried to make a scene, he'd regret it.

His downcast state suddenly vanishing, Murdoch settled a hand on Lightoller's back and another on his left forearm. His anger reeling back like a snagged fish, Lightoller turned to Murdoch.

'Please don't do that.' Wilde could read in the other man's expression. 'I know this is bad, but please don't do that.'

Lightoller scowled, his fist clenching and his lips trembling like he was about to pull them back in a snarl.

Then, like the fading glow of a piece of coal burning out, his anger ebbed away and his expression settled into a composed one, although the anger burning in his gaze was still visible.

Still, Wilde resumed his prior stance and slipped back into a stoic expression. There was no point in him fueling the conflict himself.

Smith's voice suddenly rose again.

"I apologize to both of you. I know you have been looking forward to assuming your positions for weeks. However, that is how it will be for this trip."

Wilde snuck a look at the Captain. While his conversational tone hadn't changed, his eyes had narrowed and appeared to have become of stone, the unsaid words about how he would not stand for any actual altercation all too clear.

For a few moments, the room was filled with utter silence.

Another shift in movement caught Wilde's attention, but this time, it didn't come from Lightoller. His gaze flicking further to the left, he looked at where the other five officers were gathered and saw one of them raising his hand.

As Smith looked in the same direction, the man who until moments before had still officially been the Titanic's second officer asked, "What about the rest of us, sir? How will this reshuffle change our posts?"

A trace of regret and pity made its way onto Smith's face, his whole posture stiffening as he addressed the man.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Blair. But it has been decided that to minimize changes and keep the most experienced officers on board the Titanic, you are to be removed from the roster and stay here at Southampton."

Looks of relief burst onto the junior officers' faces. David Blair, however, looked about to crumble apart more quickly than a dropped flowerpot. He opened his mouth several times, visibly trying to form words, but closed it back again on each of them without uttering a sound. After about the sixth or seventh attempt, his legs seemed about to falter underneath him, and although he managed to remain standing, his hands actually came up for a moment like he wanted to grab one of the others for support before changing his mind.

That's a bit of an exaggeration, isn't it? Wilde couldn't help but think, even as he felt sympathy going out to the other man.

Then, his question was answered by the reminder of the fuss he'd been inwardly making about his dislike for the Titanic without an apparent reason, which would likely merit the same question.

"To all those concerned, this reshuffle is only meant to last until the return voyage from New York," Captain Smith said, his eyes falling on Blair as he said that. "When you leave Southampton under the next Captain's command, the original roster will be reinstated."

Blair's expression didn't change. Neither did Murdoch's nor Lightoller's.

Wilde understood why. After all, maiden voyages were unique events by their very nature, and thus occupied a unique place in an officer's service record, especially one like the Titanic's. While no longer a truly unique instance after the Olympic's maiden voyage in the previous year, and despite still being an ordinary ship rather than the fairytale subject or the omnipotent colossus that the press seemed to want to turn her into, the Titanic was still a remarkable vessel. Having filled an important post during her maiden voyage would likely open many doors to an officer, especially an officer who still had room to be promoted. Being pulled away from that opportunity at the last possible moment had to feel like having a door slammed on one's nose.

To Smith's credit, he dropped his official stance to give Blair a sympathetic look, but it lasted only a few seconds before he straightened himself again.

"As temporary as this arrangement is, I'm sorry for the burden it places on you. You can have half an hour to rest and adjust to the news, but afterwards please make sure to continue the preparations for tomorrow, and familiarize yourselves with your new posts and duties if you have them."

Then, having barely finished his sentence, and before any of them could move, Smith partially turned to the left, his gaze falling on both Wilde and Lightoller as he continued, "That said, I need to ask Mr. Wilde and Mr. Lightoller to stay for a moment longer."

For the first time since Wilde and Smith had entered the room, all officers were in absolute agreement, as the Captain found himself the target of eight pairs of eyes, all of them casting him a puzzled look. It was a brief experience, as Lightoller's expression soon shifted into a scowl while Murdoch's turned into a warning gaze, and Wilde's resumed the composed demeanor he was forcing himself to assume, but for a few seconds, the Captain had managed to unite all of his former and current officers in the same mindset. Even David Blair had temporarily forgotten his sadness.

"The rest of you may go," the Captain went on. "I hope you have a good break, and wish you the best of lucks with the remaining preparations." His gaze focused on Blair. "As for you, Mr. Blair, I hope you have a good stay at Southampton, and a smooth sailing in any ship you may be assigned to in the meantime."

Blair nodded, but the reminder that he would be left behind made his dejected look crash back in like a wave breaking on the shoreline. Then, without any further words or looking at anyone else, he shambled towards the door, not bothering to close it behind him as he left the officers' mess. Whether to help him save face or because they took that as their cue to leave also, the other officers followed him out, except for Murdoch, who cast a wary look at Wilde and Lightoller, no doubt picturing what could happen with the two of them together in the same room without his presence to even the keel.

Wilde felt his own eyebrow itching to curl. While things between him and Lightoller had been known to be tense for a long time, this was the first time that Murdoch was openly concerned about them being alone - or almost alone - in close quarters. Had he and Lightoller really become that bad that a close friend of theirs who knew they both well still found it best to not leave the two of them alone in the same room without himself to mediate? Or was a one-off occurrence, likely brought about because of the news that had just been revealed?

Whatever the answer, Murdoch seemed to decide it was safe for him to go after all, for he also walked to the door, though not before Wilde could see his downcast look beginning to return.

The pang of guilt struck at him again. For all that he could tell himself about the reasons it had been wiser for him not to turn down this job, it didn't make his friend's dissatisfaction any more pleasant. The moment he could leave the room, he'd have to find Murdoch and find the time to apologize to him.

Hopefully, said apology would be accepted once he gave it.

Sincere as his feelings were, Wilde couldn't focus on them for long.

Mere moments after the door closed behind Murdoch, the weight of Lightoller's presence grew, and judging from the way the other officer's eyes narrowed, he was feeling the same regarding Wilde's.

For a few moments, the two men held each other's gazes, the familiar mutual dislike bubbling up in both and flying from one to the other, the very air thickening with the difficulty of them enduring each other's presence.

Then, as if on cue, both of them caught sight of Captain Smith still standing where he had been, his demeanor as calm and composed as always, like he was waiting for his turn to take care of official business at a government building. With the kind of synchrony required from a crew of seamen, both of them shifted their positions, Wilde moving from his spot by the wall and turning so he was directly ahead of the Captain, and Lightoller taking a few steps forward so he stood to Wilde's right, looking in the same direction.

"What is it you need to tell us, sir?" Lightoller asked before Wilde could say anything.

Smith stood silent at first, giving them both an inscrutable look. Wilde did his best to stand impassively, his hands behind his back, but he could feel his heartbeat beginning to quicken. Whatever was coming, had to be serious. Beside him, Lightoller also did his best to stand impassively, but to Wilde at least, the hints of annoyance flashing in his eyes were all too clear.

After a few seconds that dragged on forever, Smith spoke up.

"Gentlemen, to put things as politely and yet truthfully as I can, I know that this arrangement is far from ideal in more ways than one, considering the way in which you two are known to clash, especially whenever you are part of the same crew."

Smith paused, gazing first at Wilde, and then at Lightoller, as if to give them a chance to speak for themselves.

When neither took it, he added, "However, I would like to think I can trust you both to be professional enough to be civil and work together for the duration of this trip." His eyes narrowing slightly, and his mouth setting into a straighter line, he finished, his hands now behind his back, "I'm right to think this trust is merited, am I not?"

Though Wilde was still indoors and the lit lights didn't let him see whether the cloud cover was shifting, he felt like the sky had darkened the tiniest bit. He'd never been talked to like that by Captain Smith, or even by any other Captain. Even when he was an apprentice, he'd rarely been issued such warnings.

He wouldn't say it was unwarranted, given the subject matter, but somehow, to actually hear it…

He didn't have a word that he felt could define it precisely enough, but he felt on both a deep and superficial level that it conveyed how important it was that he and Wilde and Lightoller got along.

And in the face of that, there was only one thing he could say.

"I will do my best to deserve it."

"As will I," Lightoller immediately said.

"I hope so," Smith replied. "For both your sakes."

Neither had time to ask what the Captain meant before he explained himself.

"As you may know, Mr. Ismay will be joining us for the maiden voyage. And it turns out, even he knows of the difficult relationship you two have. As such, he made it a point to tell me in person that he wants the two of you to bury the hatchet for the duration of this trip, at absolute minimum."

Wilde's impassible façade slipped just a tad, his eyes widening the slightest bit. He knew that he and Lightoller got along worse than a dog and a cat, and their disagreements were the sort of matter that was discussed among White Star Line officers like it was an old joke or a sports event, but to have it be known to be serious enough that J. Bruce Ismay himself knew about it and actually made a point of trying to curb it?

It made him speechless.

And it was him alone, it seemed, because Lightoller actually asked, his own astonishment openly visible despite his cool and collected tone, "Mr. Ismay really said that?"

A smile that almost seemed amused curled Smith's lips.

"I must confess, I was surprised too. With all due respect to you both, I would have imagined Mr. Ismay had bigger things to concern himself with."

Wilde waved it away.

"No offense taken, sir."

After all, it had been Wilde's opinion also.

"What he said," Lightoller said, his astonished look growing tense again, spitting the word 'he' like it was meant to be a synonym for an insult.

Wilde's fingers curled the slightest bit behind his back. But as far as he could tell, there was no visible sign of his displeasure.

His serious look returning, Smith went on.

"With bigger things to worry about or not, the truth is that Mr. Ismay made it a point to bring this to my attention. As such, it fell on me to reassure him that the two of you could be professional despite your troubled professional relationship, and that this would be a smooth voyage for passengers and crew alike." His look turned even more serious, like he was trying to convey just how difficult the task had been. "I did. And as Captain of the ship, it's what I expect to happen."

This time, Smith didn't encompass them both with his gaze. Instead, he turned first to Wilde, then to Lightoller, his gaze as cold and hard as the steel used to make the Titanic. It was a look that Wilde had rarely seen in the face of any Captain, and which he had never seen assumed by Captain Smith, especially directed at him. Even Lightoller's look of displeasure faded, total seriousness now seen in his face, like he had temporarily forgotten the mere displeasure of Wilde's presence.

As if that had made him think he had gone too far, Smith assumed a pacifying, even pleasant smile, far more typical of him, but somehow jarring after his earlier seriousness.

"I know these things are always easier said than done, and I know better than most how particular Mr. Ismay can be when it comes to his requests," the Captain said. "But his wishes and mine aside, it will be a more pleasant trip for everyone, yourselves included, if you get along, wouldn't you agree?"

Lightoller scowled. And if he had been less professional, Wilde would have done the same. The idea of having to get along with Lightoller made a tooth extraction seem pleasant, to say the least. It was worse than when he had been a boy and had to share the playground with boys he didn't get along with. At least then he could be open about his dislike and would be free of them when he went home. Here, besides the fact they had to act like they were friends, a ship provided far less room for the two of them to get away from each other.

Even a ship as big as the Titanic.

But neither of them were schoolboys, and there could be greater consequences than going to the bedroom without supper if he and Lightoller gave full rein to their disagreement. Not to mention that, impossible as his positing sounded, there was no way to pretend Smith had anything other than a very solid point.

And in the face of that, there was only room for one reply.

"I would, sir." Wilde replied.

Smith didn't nod, but a slight flicker in his gaze conveyed his acknowledgement. It took a few seconds for Lightoller to give his own answer, but it eventually came out also.

"What he said." Blinking in startle, he added, "Again."

Dropping his professionalism just slightly, Wilde flicked his eyes to Lightoller and cast him a pointed look. Lightoller met it out of the corner of his eye.

Despite how childish it was - or maybe because of that - Smith actually suppressed a chuckle at the view.

"Like I said, I know these things are always easier said than done. But just… just make an effort, please. This may not be the Olympic's maiden voyage, but it is still important, and it still needs to go well."

Lightoller's face softened. Despite himself, Wilde's also did.

"And in the hands of a capable team involving men like the two of you, it has everything it needs for that to happen." Smith finished, before his smile turned playful. "Who knows, maybe this will be the trip where you'll finally sort things out properly."

Lightoller smiled.

"Well, sir, I will do my best to put my differences with him aside, but if I may be so bold as to say so, I confess I have my doubts that we'll actually sort things out on a permanent basis."

Any other Captain would have mustered a glare, but Smith only chuckled, even giving a nod as if to acknowledge . Meanwhile, Wilde held back the urge to roll his eyes.

Well, at least we agree on something.

It must have been a loud thought in some form, because Lightoller and Smith both turned to him at just that time.

"You're not saying anything, Mr. Wilde," Smith said. "Would you please voice your thoughts on the matter?"

Wilde straightened himself, clasping his hands more firmly behind his back.

"With all due respect sir, there is nothing for me to say. Mr. Lightoller and I have our differences, but I know how important enough it is for the two of us to work well together, so I will do my best to put them aside temporarily and make sure the trip goes smoothly."

Wilde paused, unsure of whether he should add the last bit.

Then, he decided to do it.

"Whether Mr. Lightoller will do the same could be said to be more questionable, but he has shown to be able to do that, and I believe him when he says he wants to do that now."

I only hope I'm not proven wrong. He inwardly added.

He didn't think he would, but still, given some of the stunts Lightoller had pulled over the years, he wouldn't put it out of the realm of possibility.

It seemed to be good enough for Smith, though, because his pleasant smile was still in place when he spoke.

"I'm glad we're all sailing along the same current, then."

Despite their propensity towards disagreements, Lightoller and Wilde nodded at almost exactly the same time, both mute, both utterly serious.

Smith nodded back, his expression more serious, before he spoke again.

"You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," Lightoller immediately replied.

Almost before he finished speaking, the gangly officer threw up a quick salute and turned on his heel, striding out of the room so fast that the hem of his greatcoat flapped in the air behind him as he headed for the door, slamming it shut behind him upon leaving.

Well, that happened. Wilde thought, capable only of exchanging a bemused look with Smith at how eager Lightoller had been to leave the room.

A few moments went by with the two of them standing in silence.

Then, Smith said,

"That is it, I suppose."

Wilde took a few seconds to reply. There was a dearth of things that he could say without sounding like he was trying to badmouth Lightoller one way or the other.

It seemed to be long enough for Smith to have questions, because he then asked, "Unless there is something you would like to say?"

Wilde tried not to visibly purse his lips. Truth be told, there were many things that he would like to say, but none of them were things that should be said for all sorts of reasons. Perhaps getting them out in the open would lighten his soul in some form, but the consequences were too likely to not justify it.

So, he replied,

"No, Captain, there is not."

Smith got an odd, knowing look on his face at the reply, as if the words had allowed him to gather just how many things Wilde wanted to say, even if he didn't know the exact words. Again, Wilde tried to look as neutral as possible.

Then, Smith's odd look faded, and he dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out a large silver watch.

"Would you care to join me in the smoking room, Mr. Wilde? We still have time before we need to go back to work."

Wilde pondered the choice.

It was a polite invitation, and one that Wilde knew was also earnest, and despite the two of them being technically on the ship, they still weren't officially at sea, and were still within the time Smith had given them all for their break. And while Wilde did dislike cigar smoke, he could put up with it for the sake of being polite.

But not this time. The fact they still had time before getting back to work meant they still had time for him to at least attempt to do something he needed to do. And while he might not succeed for all sorts of reasons, it was better to at least try.

"No, thank you. I have one matter I need to take care of."

Smith nodded, nothing but easy acceptance on his face.

"I see. Good luck with it then."

"Thank you, Captain." Wilde replied as Smith put the watch back in his pocket and made his way to the door.

Wilde followed, trying his best to look outwardly calm, but feeling apprehension starting to trickle back in.

What he wanted to do, if he even got the chance to begin with, was one of the hardest things he had needed to do in months, and he was saying that even considering everything that had happened to him over the last year and a half. It should go well enough in the end - or so he hoped - but it would be difficult for sure.

It mattered little, though, Wilde told himself as they got to the door and the Captain pulled it open. It was something that had to be done, and no matter the many things Wilde could be or the many flaws he could have, he was not a coward. He might have trouble with it, and he might fail at first, but he would try his best to do it.

Even if, just as it came to traveling on the Titanic, he didn't like it either.

Well... this was it.

Readers who also read Of Feelings and Fears will recognize the middle scene of the chapter as an overall close adaptation of the first part original prologue of that story, as it also has the scene of Smith telling the other officers about the reshuffle, as well as their respective reactions. The biggest differences are that now the scene is from Wilde's perspective instead of Murdoch's (and thus we get, at least for now, less of a look at how Murdoch is feeling), and that the conversation Wilde had with Murdoch and his wife is absent. I initially meant to include it in the retooled version of the story, but I ultimately decided not to.

As for Lightoller and Wilde's rivalrly... as I said in notes of the original version of the story, to my knowledge, the rivalry is only rumored to have existed. However, I felt it was a permissible element to include in the original version, and I also feel it is a permissible element to include in this one.

Thank you all for reading this chapter. I am hesitant to make such a promise, but I will try my best not to take as long with the next one.