Oh boy... now we're *really* getting into it!
This chapter was a LOT easier to write to be honest - or maybe I'm just really overexcited because it's Titanic and I'm obsessed with anything Titanic related, so... yay!
While I wrote all 11k+ words of this chapter (yes, 11k+ words!) in the space of a day, I'm afraid that the next chapter(s) won't be nearly as fast; I'm back at work full time now, and this week is the week of my play that I'm doing so my day is literally working, rushing home, eating and immediately going to rehearsal/performance all the way until next Saturday night. But I will definitely be working on this whenever I can (break/lunch, after rehearsals etc) and hopefully it won't take too much longer. Hopefully the latest will be next Sunday!
Just as a side note, the older Tina's narration is featured in italics throughout this chapter, just in case anyone is confused as to what that's about. This chapter also features a few deleted scenes and lines that can be seen in the script and/or this video of deleted scenes from the film. There's also a scene at the end that is purely made up, and there'll probably be more going forwards just so it's not an exact copy of the film.
Just a little note, as we're now in the 1912 part of the story, to reiterate that a lot of real life figures who were on the Titanic are being featured in the fic instead of swapping them out for FB characters; this is an intentional choice I've made to honour the real life people represented in James Cameron's film. This means that Captain Smith, the officers, the crew of the ship, and many of the first-class passengers whose names have not been changed are in fact real life people who were onboard, such as Margaret "Molly" Brown (played wonderfully by the incredible Kathy Bates in the film... gah, I love her!), Colonel Gracie, Lady Duff-Gordon etc. There'll be more appearing in future chapters, but this one has a few!
(I also kept Tommy Ryan for no reason other than I just really loved his lines - especially the "You'd as like have angels fly out o' yer arse as get next to the likes o' her" one - and I couldn't think of a FB character to fit the bill without having to change some of the lines dramatically. Or maybe I just like Tommy Ryan, I don't know!)
This chapter hasn't been heavily edited, so it may be subject to a few edits here and there moving forwards - I just really wanted to get this chapter out before the busy week ahead.
Anyway, let's go back to Titanic!
April 1912
The gleaming white superstructure of the RMS Titanic seemed to gleam in the sun on the morning of April 10th at Southampton dock, rising mountainously above the busy crowds below with its four funnels standing against the sky like pillars of a temple. Crewmen were moving across the deck, like small ants dwarfed by the size of the steamship they were on; they were tying down ropes, welcoming passengers onboard, even waving over the side of the railing, whilst a loading crane carefully lowered a glorious burgundy Renault touring car onboard. On the docks, the pier was covered in the hustle and bustle of horse-drawn vehicles, motorcars and lorries that moved slowly through the dense throng of people; some were waving off loved ones whilst others waited to board the ship, excited for the promise of a new life overseas.
One young man with dark hair was holding a small blonde girl in his arms as they waited to show the officers their tickets, smiling with excitement. "Look, Modesty - that's a big boat, isn't it?"
The girl stared up at it, clutching onto her doll, before giving him a serious look - as serious as an eight-year-old could give, at least. "Credence, it's a ship, not a boat."
Her brother laughed quietly. "Yeah, you're right."
The beeping of a loud horn behind them distracted Modesty Barebone momentarily, and she cast her blue-eyed gaze over her brother's shoulder curiously; a white Renault was pulling up nearby, followed closely by a silver-gray Daimler-Benz. The driver of the first car hurriedly exited and scurried around to the other side to open the door; a gloved hand reached out, which he took in order to help the passenger out of the vehicle.
A young woman stepped out onto the dock gracefully, regal and stunning in a white and blue pinstripe outfit, a large blue hat over immaculately styled dark hair. When seventeen year old Porpentina Goldstein looked up from underneath her hat at the ship before her, it was with dark and fierce eyes, taking in her surroundings with cool appraisal. Behind her, a man in his late-thirties stepped out; Achilles Tolliver, her fiancé, was grinning widely as he looked up at the ship, dressed in a sharp stylish suit and bowler hat.
"I don't see what all the fuss is about," The woman said as she turned to him; a short dark-haired man exited the silver-gray car nearby and opened the door on the other side for a man and woman who were both slightly older than the first. "It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania."
"You can be blasé about some things, Tina, but not about Titanic," Achilles informed her, his smile fading only somewhat at how unimpressed she was. "It's over a hundred feet longer than Mauretania, and far more luxurious."
As Tina stepped forwards, he turned to face the other two who had descended from the touring car behind him; one of the most prominent figures in New York society, Percival Graves was in his early forties and extremely handsome, his dark hair streaked with silver - if one didn't know any better, they would think him related to Tina. His wife, Seraphina, was just as beautiful and respected by society, known for her bluntness and an iron will which extended to how she ran a household; her recently lightened hair was hidden beneath a beautiful turban made of the finest fabric, fringed with gold to match the rings she wore on every finger.
"Your ward is far too difficult to impress," Achilles mused to them both, shaking his head to himself.
Percival gave a small smirk, offering his arm for his wife to take. "That's one way of putting it."
"So," Seraphina began haughtily, gazing up at the leviathan ship in front of them. "This is the ship they say is unsinkable."
"It is unsinkable!" Achilles exclaimed, clearly proud that he was the one responsible for providing such a special experience for them all. "God himself could not sink this ship!"
It was undeniable that they were the quintessential example of Edwardian upper-class, all of them impeccably turned out and with a group of servants; Achilles' personal valet, Abernathy, was a short man with dark hair that was slicked back, and waited with a dour expression for the man to give him instructions. Behind him, two maids - one for each of the women - began to unload bags of their mistresses' recent purchases that were too fragile for baggage handlers to deal with.
A man in a White Star Line uniform briskly appeared, somewhat harried by last minute loading. "Sir," He said, polite but strained. "You'll have to check your baggage through the main terminal, round that way-"
"I put my faith in you, good sir," Achilles interrupted, nonchalantly handing the man a paper note; the porter's eyes dilated slightly. "See my man - his name is Abernathy."
"Yes, sir!" The employee replied enthusiastically. "My pleasure, sir!"
It was difficult not to smirk to himself as he walked away: Achilles never tired of the effect money had on people, especially the masses of those poorer than himself.
"All the trunks from that car there," Abernathy instructed calmly, indicating to the Renault before moving over to the Daimer behind him. "Twelve from here, and the safe, to the parlour suite rooms B-fifty-two, fifty-four, fifty-six."
As cargo-handlers came running to help lift the wooden crates and steel safe, Achilles quickly checked his pocket watch and approached the rest of his entourage. "We'd better hurry - this way."
They followed the way he indicated, through the crowd and toward the first class gangway; unlike the ones for second and third class passengers, this boarding bridge was elevated about twenty feet above so that the rich could avoid the hustle down below. Tina briefly glanced over her shoulder at her maid, a young woman named Chastity, and prompted, "My coat?"
"I have it, miss," The maid instantly replied, moving quickly despite being laden with several bags and items.
They weaved between vehicles, handcarts, hurrying passengers and wellwishers; nearby, a well-dressed young man cranking the handle of a wooden Biograph "cinematograph" camera mounted on a tripod. They passed a line of steerage passengers in coarse wool and tweeds were queued up rather like cattle in a chute; a health officer was examining each of their heads, one-by-one, checking scalps and eyelashes for lice. "Steerage swine," Achilles muttered, face full of disgust. "Probably missed their annual baths."
"Honestly, Achilles," Seraphina remarked coolly. "If you weren't forever booking everything at the last instant, we could have gone through the terminal instead of running along the dock like some squalid immigrant family."
He merely hummed. "All part of my charm, Seraphina. At any rate, it was my darling fiancée's beauty rituals which made us late."
"You told me to change," Tina countered placidly.
"I couldn't let you wear black on sailing day, sweetpea," He tutted, taking her arm and tucking it under his own. "It's bad luck."
She merely lifted her head higher, trying not to grimace at the nickname or his touch. "I felt like black."
"Here I've pulled every string I could to book us on the grandest ship in history, in her most luxurious suites," Achilles lamented, clearly disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm - by her. "And you act as if you're going to your execution."
Tina looked up as they entered the gangway that led up to the D-deck doors; the Titanic loomed over her like a great iron wall, black as a Bible and severe, and she felt her stomach swirl with a sense of overwhelming dread. She was all too aware of the possessive way her fiancé's hand tightened on her arm, like a vice that only got tighter and tighter as time passed - but she couldn't pull away, not now, not ever.
She was a smart girl: she knew that this was her life, and it forever would be - there was no use in fighting it.
"It was the ship of dreams… to everyone else. To me it was a slave ship, taking me back to America in chains. Outwardly, I was everything a well-brought up girl should be - inside, I was screaming."
As the mighty triple steam horns on the Titanic's funnels bellowed their departure warning, a poker game was in progress in a smoky pub not too far away. Five men and a woman, all in working class clothes, were crowded around a small table, and the atmosphere was serious; three of the men were arguing quickly in Swedish, their words impossible to understand, whilst the others had one final huddle together. In the middle of the table was a disordered pile of money, coins and notes from four different countries - and on the very top were three third-class tickets for the RMS Titanic.
To one side of the latter trio, Theseus Scamander put out his cigarette in an ashtray and sighed. "We're in trouble - we've bet everything we have on this game."
The lady, who was seated in the middle of this trio and studying her cards carefully, scoffed at him. "As I always say, when you've got nothing then you've got nothing to lose. Isn't that right, Newt?" Theseus' younger brother, Newt, was staring at his own cards intensely, and so she cleared her throat. "Newt?"
"Hmm?" He looked up at her hurriedly. "Oh. Right. Yes, sorry, Lally."
Theseus had to bite his lip to contain the sigh that threatened to escape; his little brother's reddish-brown hair was in need of a haircut, especially the fringe that was now falling into his eyes, and his clothes were rumpled. "This is a bad idea," He muttered instead to his lover. "We should be focusing on saving up enough to find a place to stay, food to eat-"
"That's not very bohemian of you, Thes," She joked, though when he didn't laugh her shoulders slumped. "I know, I know… You feel you have to look after Newt."
"We look after each other," He reminded her seriously. "And if we lose this hand, we lose everything - we're back to sleeping under bridges until one of us finds work. I'm not sure if I can do that to him, Lally."
The whistle from the Titanic outside blew again, a final warning, and they all refocused on the game; Lally straightened up, hoping to appear more confident than she felt, and laid her cards down on the table. "Alright, boys, the moment of truth - somebody's life's about to change. I've got nothing. Theseus?"
"As the Italians say," He sighed, putting his cards down for them all to see. "Niente."
Her heart sank in her chest at the sight - it was looking more and more likely that she wouldn't see her parents again. "Oh. Olaf?" The burliest of the men laid his set of cards down, and she gave a nod. "You've got squat. Gustav? The same?" The man in question nodded. "Okay. Sven?" The last Swede slowly showed his hand, and with crushing disappointment she felt her suspicions confirmed: unlike her and Theseus, he had something. "Oh… two pair… Newt?"
Throughout this entire exchange, Newt had kept his cards held close to himself and not said a word; he paused for a moment, looking around at everyone before finally settling his gaze just off of Lally's eyes. "I'm sorry, Lally…"
"Sorry? Oh, Newt…" Lally put a hand on his arm as Theseus dropped his head into his hands in frustration. "What did you get? Please don't be sorry, it's not your fault-"
"I'm sorry," He interrupted, and the corners of his mouth turned up. "Sorry because… I'm afraid you're going to have to introduce Theseus to your parents." Both of them froze as he triumphantly laid his cards on the table for everyone to see: three of a kind and a pair. "I believe this is a full house, which means-"
"WE'RE GOING TO AMERICA!" Lally screamed.
The table suddenly erupted into shouts; Theseus was standing and pulling his brother into a hug, much to the younger man's chagrin, whilst Lally quickly pocketed the money and picked up the tickets, appearing to cry with joy. As Theseus let go of Newt so that he could kiss his lover in celebration, Olaf stood and balled up one huge fist before grabbing the younger Englishman by his shirt; he spat some words out in Swedish, and Newt winced, preparing himself for the punch that was sure to come - only for the bigger man to swing around and punch Sven, who flopped backwards onto the floor. All three of the Swedish men, unsurprisingly, looked depressed by this turn of events as they cursed and snarled at each other.
"I'm going home!" Lally exclaimed, putting an arm around each of the Scamander brothers. "I'm going to see my family again!"
"We're going to America!" Theseus cheered to everyone else in the pub.
"No, mate!" A voice chuckled from behind the bar, and they looked over to see the pub-keeper chortling to himself as he gestured to a clock behind him. "Titanic is going to America, in five minutes!"
For a moment none of them moved, staring at the clock as if they were frozen - and then quickly they began to scramble, hurriedly gathering their coats and the small bags of belongings that they shared before bolting out of the door of the pub. The group sprinted toward the pier, tearing through milling crowds next to the terminal; a few milling gentlemen gave shouts as they were jostled, but they were unheeded. It was a race of dodging piles of luggage, weaving through groups of people, until they burst out onto the pier.
Newt came to a dead stop as he looked up, staring at the wall of ship's hull; it towered seven stories above the wharf, over an eighth of a mile long - it was monstrous in its size. A second later, he felt a hand on his arm start to pull him, and he realised it was his brother urging him to hurry; they both quickly caught up with Lally, making their way to the ramp allocated for third class.
Just as they reached the bottom, an officer at the top was detaching it at the top from inside the ship so that it would swing down from the gangway doors. "Wait!" Lally called, charging up with the tickets in hand. "We're passengers!"
Sixth Officer Moody glanced at the tickets before his eyes trailed from the woman to the two men flushed and panting behind her. "Have you been through the inspection queue?"
"Of course," Theseus lied, cheerful even as he struggled for breath. "Anyway, we don't have any lice - we're English and she's American."
The officer hesitated before giving a nod. "Right, come aboard."
He held the door open for them as they jumped the small gap between the already-detached gangway bridge and the inside of the ship - and all three of them were unable to stop themselves from cheering and whooping in elation.
It didn't matter that they had nothing but the clothes on their backs and a meagre pile of belongings in sacks, didn't matter that they didn't know exactly what the future held, because they were on the Titanic, the grandest ship in the entire world - their lives truly couldn't have gotten any luckier.
By the time they had made their way up to the well deck of the ship, the mooring lines had been dropped into the water and the Titanic was beginning to pull away from the quay. They quickly ran across the deck and up to the metal railings so that they could look down at the crowd below; the dock was covered in wellwishers who were waving heartily as the ship began to move, slowly gathering speed.
Lally started to yell and wave down to them, and Theseus laughed before doing the same. "Do you both know somebody down there that I don't?" Newt questioned, confused by this.
"Of course not, Newt," Theseus chuckled. "That's not the point - come and join in."
As he joined them, Lally was beaming from ear to ear. "Goodbye! Goodbye! We'll miss you!"
"So long, England!" Theseus crowed. "We won't forget you!"
Newt merely waved down at the crowds below, feeling rather silly about shouting to no one in particular; it was rather exhilarating, he had to admit, just being there on this ship as it set sail on its maiden voyage, though the noise of so many people shouting was rather disconcerting all the same. It wasn't long before the Titanic gathered more and more speed, and the water below seemed to spread below the mighty plough of the hull as it moved down the River Test toward the English Channel.
This is real, he had to tell himself, filled with awe and excitement for what was to come, I'm really on the Titanic… I'm going to see America.
The third-class cabins were located on the front of G-Deck, a series of narrow white corridors with doors lining both sides; there seemed to be a lot of confusion as passengers attempted to argue over luggage and directions in a variety of languages, emigrants studying signs over doors and looking up words in phrase books. Newt tightened his grip on his bag, suddenly feeling rather overwhelmed despite his joy, and started to fiddle with the cuff of his coat. "Lally? Which cabin are we in?"
Theseus, noticing his discomfort, gently laid a hand on his shoulder to help guide him; his girlfriend was busy examining the numbers on each doors, muttering to herself under her breath. "G-16… G-16… Ah, here we are!"
It was a modest cubicle, painted in the same enamel white as the corridor outside; there were two sets of bunk beds with exposed pipes over each of the top bunks. A man was already in there, and he looked up as the door opened only to frown in confusion at the sight of them.
"Hey, how are you doing?" Lally greeted, throwing her bag onto one of the open bunks. "I'm Lally, Lally Hicks. Pleased to meet you. These two are Theseus and Newt Scamander - looks like we'll be cabinmates!"
The man shook the hand she offered, still perplexed as he watched them; behind her, Theseus placed his things on top of the bed above Lally's and gave his brother a shove. "Go on, you take the one over there - I think the other gentleman already claimed the top one, so you're on the bottom."
"Now why do I have to be on the bottom?" Newt groused, but he put his things down as directed.
"Because I'm the oldest, and this is as close to sharing a bed with Lally as I'm going to get on this ship."
"Just because you're the oldest, it does not mean you get to control everything," He argued half-heartedly, though he felt his face heat up at the innuendo hidden in his brother's words. "And please… not while we're sharing a cabin, I beg you-"
Theseus smirked before pulling Lally towards him and pressing a kiss to her mouth; Newt groaned, sitting on his bunk and immediately trying to distract himself from them by rooting through his bag - something told him that he was going to spend a great deal of time away from the cabin whilst his brother and friend were using it.
From the bunk above him, he heard their cabinmate's voice. "Var är Sven?"
"I have no idea what you just said," Newt mumbled. "But I agree."
The Millionaire Suite on B-Deck was in an Empire style, compromised of two bedrooms, a bath, a water closet, a wardrobe room, and a large sitting room. It also included the addition of a covered private promenade deck filled with potted trees and vines on trellises just for them to use - at fifty feet long, it was certainly a welcomed luxury.
As Achilles examined the promenade deck, Tina was inside the sitting room and looking through a vast array of paintings that she had recently purchased; a Monet of water lilies, a Degas of dancers, abstract works that were unknown. Chastity, who was helping her sort through them, lifted one up. "This one?"
Tina glanced at it before shaking her head. "No, it had a lot of faces on it." She picked up one and nodded to herself. "This, this is the one."
"Would you like all of them out, madam?" The maid asked.
"Yes… Yes, definitely," The young woman agreed, still staring at the portrait. "We need a little colour in this room."
As they started to unload the artworks one-by-one, Achilles appeared in the doorway from the promenade deck, holding a glass of whiskey in hand and huffing derisively. "God, not those finger paintings again! They certainly were a waste of money."
"The difference in Achilles' taste in art and mine is that I have some," Tina remarked without missing a beat, placing the painting in her hands - a cubist portrait - so that it was posed on the chaise. "They're fascinating… Like being inside a dream or something - there's truth but no logic."
Chastity looked curiously at it. "What's the artist's name, ma'am?"
"Something Picasso."
"Something Picasso?" Achilles repeated mockingly, coming into the sitting room. "He won't amount to a thing, trust me." Greatly resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Tina walked into the bedroom with her maid following behind her; her fiancé shared a look with Abernathy behind her retreating back. "At least they were cheap."
Abernathy smirked in agreement before turning to a porter who was wheeling in the private safe. "That goes in the wardrobe, over there."
Inside the bedroom, Tina was setting a large Degas painting on the dresser near the canopy bed; Chastity took a deep breath, beaming as she became overcome with excitement. "It smells so brand new! Like they built it all for us!"
Tina couldn't help but smile even as she held out her arm so that the maid could help her undo the buttons on her sleeve; despite the class difference, she had found Chastity to be truly good company, the closest thing to a friend her own age that she had. "Oh?"
"I mean… just to think that tonight, when I crawl between the sheets, I'll be the first!"
She couldn't help but give a little giggle at this, amused despite herself. "Oh, Chastity-"
"And tonight," A deep voice said from the doorway, causing both women to turn quickly; Achilles was standing in the doorway, his black eyes fixed firmly on his fiancée in a way that bordered on lecherous. "When I crawl between the sheets, I'll still be the first."
Chastity's face turned scarlet at the innuendo, and his gaze flickered to her in annoyance; with the tilt of his head, he gestured for her to leave. "S'cuse me, Miss," She stammered, edging around the man to make a quick exit.
Tina felt her heart plummet to her stomach, her joy long gone; she couldn't look at him, instead turning away to stare resolutely at the painting while he closed the bedroom door. "First," His voice all but purred as he crossed the room; his arms encircled her from behind, entrapping her in an embrace of possession, not intimacy. "And only. Forever."
As his mouth moved dangerously close to her ear, it took all of Tina's willpower not to push Achilles away or scream - she couldn't, not now, not ever. Her expression was blank as she considered this bleak prospect and how this was her future: him, only him-
There was no escaping it, not even if she tried: this was her life now - forever.
"At Cherbourg, a woman came aboard named Margaret Brown, but we all called her Molly. History would call her the Unsinkable Molly Brown. Her husband had struck gold someplace out west, and she was what Percival called 'new money'..."
As the new passengers who had boarded at Cherbourg made their way through the first-class reception room and to the D-Deck elevators, a broad-shouldered woman in an enormous feathered hat appeared; she was carrying a suitcase in each hand whilst a porter came running to catch up with her.
"Well, I wasn't about to wait all day for you, sonny!" She proclaimed, handing them to him. "Here, you think you can manage?"
Tina watched in fascination as the older woman greeted other passengers, not sure whether to be entertained or not; despite dressing in the same finery as the rest of her peers, she appeared tough talking and straight, which made her stand out completely. Beside her, she saw Seraphina roll her eyes before guiding the younger woman towards the dining hall.
"Who was that?" Tina questioned as nonchalantly as possible, fiddling with one of her earrings.
"Don't play with those," Seraphina admonished, but she leaned in closer nonetheless. "Margaret Brown - new money, clearly. The less we have to do with her the better."
The Seraphina who had raised her wouldn't have said that - she had never looked down on people like that, had never been unkind even when she had been stern, and it was obvious that these were Achilles' words coming from her mouth.
There was no way to take comfort in the knowledge that all of them were under her fiancé's thumb for the rest of their lives, and so she didn't try to - it was better to keep her mouth shut unless asked to speak.
"By the next afternoon, we were steaming west from the coast of Ireland, with nothing ahead of us but ocean…"
Captain Edward Smith was one of the world's most experienced captains; he had served on a number of White Star Line vessels in his forty years at sea, twenty-seven of which had been spent in command. Less than a year previously, he had taken first command of the Olympic on its maiden voyage from Southampton to New York - until Titanic, it had been the largest vessel in the world. That afternoon, as he joined First Officer Murdoch to look out at the vast expanse of sea ahead of them, he couldn't help but smile; the Titanic was graceful as she sailed through the water, the prow below cutting through the surface like a knife and sending up two clean glassy sheets of water.
"Take her to sea, Mister Murdoch," He ordered calmly. "Let's stretch her legs."
Murdoch also smiled, giving a nod. "Yes, sir."
Down below, Newt and Theseus had made their way to the bow of the ship to look at the water below; as the vessel began to pick up speed, the wind began to stream through their hair and whip around their faces. "Look at that, Newt!" Theseus announced, pointing forwards. "I can see the Statue of Liberty already!"
"No, you can't," Newt disagreed, squinting into the far horizon. "We're days away from America, you can't possibly-"
"I'm joking, Newt," His brother chuckled, patting his shoulder. "But we'll be there in no time, you'll see: I've heard this is faster than any other ship in the world."
The younger man considered this for a moment. "Maybe. I didn't think something this big would be able to move that fast to be honest, but…" Deciding that debating over the speed of the ship was not going to be his area of expertise, he looked down at the water below - and then he gasped. "Oh my god."
"Hmm? What's wrong?"
Newt shook his head, straightening up and pointing as he grinned in pure joy. "Look, Thee, look, it's-... it's dolphins!" It was like they were enjoying being chased by the ship, never swimming too far ahead or in a different direction even as the prow of the ship ploughed onwards. "I've never seen dolphins before… they're wonderful, aren't they?"
Seeing his brother's awestruck expression, Theseus found it hard not to smile too; seeing him so happy was far more wonderful than a sea creature doing tricks in his opinion, but he didn't dare say this aloud. "They are, yes. And just think, Newt, there are probably dolphins living close to America - we could take a sailboat out onto the sea near a beach one day and watch them."
"Do you think so?" Newt asked hopefully. "To be honest, I'd be happy watching and studying any animals - I know you and Lally have plans, that you're going to meet her family, but…"
"But nothing," The older man said firmly, ruffling his brother's hair fondly. "I promise you, Newt, we'll find as many fantastic animals as you want - we'll visit every single zoo in America if that's what you want, I swear."
His brother cringed slightly at his hair being touched but was still thrilled nonetheless. "I'll be holding you to that promise now - you're not allowed to break it."
"Of course," Theseus agreed sincerely. "I would never break a promise to you, you know that."
All of their plans involved money, which they were admittedly lacking even with their winnings from the poker game - but they would do it, they both knew, sooner or later. After all, if the last few days were anything to go by, their luck was only improving more and more with each moment that passed.
After some time, the dolphins dispersed from below them; seeing this, Theseus stepped away from the rail and gestured for his brother to follow him. "Come on, let's go and see which deck Lally's reading on, and we'll see if she's remembered to bring your sketchbook with her."
"Alright," Newt agreed, casting one last look at the wide and endless sea ahead before following. "Not that there's any animals to draw on this boat, of course…"
"So? You can practise drawing people," The older man reminded him. "And besides, I've seen the crew walking some dogs around the decks - first class dogs, no doubt, but still… dogs."
"I do like dogs," Newt acknowledged seriously, fingers already itching for his charcoal and paper at the thought. "I don't suppose I'd be allowed to room in the kennels instead - at least that way I wouldn't have to hear you mumbling Lally's name in your sleep."
He only very narrowly dodged the playful punch his brother directed at him, both of them laughing.
"She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all of history… and our master shipbuilder, Mister Andrews here, designed her from the keel plates up."
The handsome Irish gentleman that Bruce Ismay had indicated to smiled uncomfortably at the attention as everyone at their table looked at him. "Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mister Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is," He stated, gently knocking on the table beneath him. "...willed into solid reality."
The group around the table gave polite and impressed noises, smiling at both Ismay and Andrews; seated opposite the shipbuilder was Tina, between her fiancé and Seraphina, listening with restrained interest. Also seated at their table in the Palm Court restaurant that lunch were Percival, between his wife and Mister Andrews, and - much to some of the diners' dismay - Molly Brown in all her finery and a large black feathered hat.
"Why're ships always bein' called 'she'?" The large woman asked, already grinning. "Is it because men think half the women around have big sterns and should be weighed in tonnage."
To her credit, this made everyone around the table laugh just as a waiter arrived to take orders; as Mister Ismay ordered first, Tina opened her clutch and took out a cigarette in its holder, lighting it without a word.
Seraphina sighed. "You know I don't like that, Tina."
The girl merely took a drag and blew the smoke out in her direction, her face emotionless. Achilles looked over, jaw twitching, before taking the cigarette and stubbing it out. "She knows." Then he turned to the waiter with a somewhat strained smile. "We'll both have the lamb - rare, with a little mint sauce." As the waiter moved away, he turned back to his fiancée. "You like lamb, right sweetpea?"
The smile that Tina plastered onto her face couldn't have been any faker or more irritated even if she tried; across the table, Molly had been watching the interactions with a raised brow and now fixed her steely gaze on the man. "So," She interjected, and though her mouth was turned up it was clear that she was not impressed by him. "You gonna cut her meat for her too there, Achilles?"
His confident expression slipped for a moment, all but glaring at her.
"Hey, who came up with the name Titanic?" Molly continued, now ignoring him completely as she turned to Ismay with a knowing look. "Was it you, Bruce?"
He bowed his head in a show of mock humility. "Well, yes actually. I wanted to convey sheer size - and size means stability, luxury, and above all strength."
"Do you know of Doctor Freud, Mister Ismay?" Tina asked lightly. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you."
Across from her, Andrews nearly choked on his food as he suppressed a laugh and Molly was nodding with a wide grin whilst Percival covered his mouth with his napkin and hurriedly turned his chuckle into a light cough. Seraphina, however, leaned over with a stern expression. "What's gotten into you?"
Tina stood from her chair, barely giving any of them a glance. "Excuse me." Ismay went to stand to help her, but she was already stalking away towards the doors that led to the deck outside.
As the others around the table settled down again, Seraphina cleared her throat. "I do apologize."
"She's a pistol, Achilles," Molly stated, clearly not offended at all by the younger woman's abrupt exit. "Hope you can handle her."
Achilles was tense even as he feigned unconcern and looked her straight in the eye. "Well, I might have to start minding what she reads from now on, won't I, Mrs Brown?"
Ismay settled himself back into his seat, somewhat confused. "Freud… who is he? Is he a passenger?"
The sun was shining down on the deck as Newt bent further over the leather bound sketching pad resting on his knees; whilst Theseus and Lally spoke nearby with other fellow steerage passengers, he was drawing with a Conté crayon, his strokes rapid and sure with defined strokes, only occasionally looking up to take another glance at his subject. On the lower rung of the rail in front of him stood a little blonde girl he had met earlier that day, Modesty; she was only eight and travelling with her older brother Credence, who was slightly younger than Newt himself was. The girl was leaning back against her brother as he held her close, showing her some nearby seagulls - she had immediately taken to Newt when they'd met that morning and had been all too eager when he asked if he could possibly do a small sketch of her and her brother.
Theseus looked over the younger man's shoulder and gave an appreciative nod. "See, what did I tell you?" He said knowingly. "You're good - really good, Newt."
"Let me see it, boys," Lally instructed, taking a look of her own. "Oh, that's perfect, Newt… you've really captured the humanity of the moment, I must say."
Theseus turned to look at someone nearby, a young Irish man who was puffing away on a cigarette. "Mind if I have one?"
"You don't smoke, Thee," Newt pointed out absent-mindedly, not even looking up from his work.
The stranger laughed but pulled one from his pocket to give to Theseus nonetheless. "One for you too?" He asked Lally, his cigarette between his teeth.
"Why not?" She decided, and at her friend's look she huffed out a laugh. "Just one, Newt, I promise."
"It's a nice ship," Theseus began conversationally as he lit first his Lally's cigarette and then his own.
"Yeah, it's an Irish ship," The man informed him, almost proudly.
Lally gave a hum of surprise. "I thought it was English."
"No, it was built in Ireland!" He stated. "Fifteen thousand Irishmen built this ship, right in Belfast. Solid as a rock, big Irish hands." His face scowled slightly as he watched a crew member come by, walking three dogs - one was a black french bulldog and, quite frankly, one of the ugliest creatures to have ever walked the planet. "Tha's typical," He muttered scornfully, pulling his cigarette from his mouth and blowing out a stream of smoke. "First class dogs come down here to take a shite."
Newt looked up from his sketch, noticed the dogs, and gave a shrug. "I suppose so we know where we rank in the scheme of things."
"Like we could forget," The man snorted, putting the cigarette back between his lips before leaning forwards and offering his hand to each of them. "I'm Tommy Ryan."
"Newt Scamander."
"I'm Theseus Scamander."
"Lally Hicks."
He shook each of their hands before stepping back and gesturing to the sketchpad on the youngest man's lap. "Do you make any money with your drawings?"
Newt went to answer but stopped as something caught the corner of his eye from across the well deck; walking across the B-deck promenade was a young woman in a long green dress and white gloves, her dark hair styled on top of her head and the sun catching the natural brown highlights of her hair. He couldn't take his eyes off of her: she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, even as she leaned against the railing and stared out like a lonely figure in a romantic novel.
Noticing his silence, the others looked to see what had captured his attention so; Tommy snorted to himself. "Ah, forget it, boyo. You'd as like have angels fly out o' yer arse as get next to the likes o' her."
"And here was me thinking my little brother didn't even like women," Theseus teased, shaking his head to himself. "I thought only animals got his attention like this."
"Oh shush," Lally admonished them good-naturedly. "Let him look if he wants, he's not harming anyone."
Suddenly the woman's face turned and she looked right at him; even from sixty feet away, he was riveted by the fierceness of her eyes, how sad and lonely she looked, and despite being caught staring he couldn't look away. After a moment, she glanced away before looking back again, their eyes meeting once more across the space of the well deck, the gulf between the two different worlds that they inhabited ever present.
A man came up behind the women then and took her arm; she jerked it away, and they seemed to have a quiet argument before she stormed away with him following after her - and just like that they were gone, disappearing along the promenade. Newt could only stare after them, absolutely speechless and awed.
He was not a religious man by any means - but a part of him couldn't help musing that he'd perhaps just seen an angel.
"I saw my whole life as if I'd already lived it… an endless parade of parties and cotillions, yachts and polo matches… always the same narrow people, the same mindless chatter. I felt like I was standing at a great precipice with no one to pull me back, no one who cared… or even noticed."
At dinner that evening in the first class dining saloon, Tina found herself flanked by people in heated conversation: her guardians and Achilles laughing together on one side, on the other Lady Duff-Gordon animatedly discussing something with the rest of the table - and all she could do was stare down at her plate, barely hearing the inconsequential babble around her. No one noticed her hand underneath the table, holding a tiny fork from the crab salad that had been served, or that she began to poke the crab-fork into the skin of her arm; she pressed harder and harder until it began to draw blood, and still no one noticed a thing.
"I'm dreadfully sorry," She said quietly, and it was as if her voice wasn't even hers anymore. "I'm feeling slightly light-headed, so I think I'll return to my rooms for the evening."
As she stood, only Percival seemed to be somewhat concerned. "Would you like me to walk you back, Tina?"
"No, thank you," She told him politely, the very picture of perfect composure as she smiled demurely. "Please, don't leave early on my account; I'll just have a maid light the fire while I rest."
No one made any attempts to follow her as she left, too caught up in their own mindless chatter.
By the time she had reached her rooms, she was beginning to feel truly unwell and like she couldn't breathe.
"Chastity?" She called weakly, stripping her black gloves off and throwing them down on the bed. "Chastity?"
There was no reply, no servant who came running. Breathing slightly harder and struggling not to allow tears in her eyes, Tina reached around to the back of her dress to try and undo it - but she couldn't reach it. She approached the large vanity mirror to try and see where the clasps for the dress were, where it was tied, but still she couldn't do it by herself. It shouldn't have surprised her, given that she'd needed the maid to help tie her into the dress, but it did little to alleviate the awful feeling bubbling up inside of her.
"Chastity?!" She exclaimed, more desperately now; with an anguished cry, she clawed at the shoulders of her dress, succeeding only in tearing it so it was slightly looser on her frame. Her hands clawed at her throat, ripping off the expensive pearl necklace she had worn to dinner that evening and making the individual beads explode across the room, and it was with a frenzied desperation that she started to tear at herself, at her clothes, at the intricately style of her hair until it hung loose… and still no one came.
A grown woman, about to be married off, and still I cannot even undress myself without a maid… like a child. I'm a doll, nothing more than an inanimate object to be dressed up and played with.
I'm Achilles' doll.
With a primal snarl, Tina attacked the dresser, flinging everything off of it so that it clattered against the wall and onto the floor. Without thinking, she took the tortoise shell hand mirror in hand and hurled it against the vanity; the glass of both cracked upon impact, and she found herself staring at her reflection; she was out of breath, panting hard, with her make-up streaking down her face and hair dishevelled as she shook with so many emotions that she didn't understand - hatred, self-hatred, desperation, anger…
With a choked sob, she shoved at the vanity mirror and began to run.
That night, Newt found himself lying on one of the benches out on deck, gazing up at the sky overhead; there were thousands of stars blazing gloriously overhead, and it was the perfect time for him to think quietly. His brother had demanded that he not return to the cabin for at least another hour (he was not stupid, he knew exactly why they wanted to be alone together in the room, and he could only hope that they had warned their Swedish bunkmate too), and he was contentnt to be alone with his thoughts for now.
Suddenly someone rushed past him, and he heard the sound of what appeared to be a woman sobbing; Newt immediately sat up, alarmed, and watched as she ran straight to the very back of the stern deck.
Tina ran until she slammed straight into the base of the stern flagpole, which she clung to as she panted; staring out ahead of her there was only black water; calm, dark, churned from the propellers of the ship that sailed through it - and then, moving methodically, she hitched her long dress up and began to climb over the railing. As she reached the top and began to climb back down the other side, she turned so that she could face outwards, her back to the railing and heels on the white-painted gunwale. She leaned out, arms straightening, to get a better look at the ocean below her - she was immediately hypnotised by the vortex below her, like a never-ending hole that could swallow her up forever. The only sound, other than the rush of the water below and her own breathing, was the flutter and snap of the Union Jack flag positioned at the back of the ship.
"Don't do it."
Tina whipped her head around at the sound of a voice behind her; it took a moment for her eyes to focus, and then she noticed it was a young man, only a few years older than herself, carefully stepping closer and closer.
"Stay back!" She warned. "Don't come any closer!"
Newt realised it was the girl he had been riveted by earlier that day, and in the faint glow from the stern running lights he saw tear tracks glistening on her cheeks - it only strengthened his resolve. "Please," He tried again, reaching out. "Just take my hand, I'll pull you back-"
"No!" She snapped, leaning forwards once more. "Stay where you are! I mean it! I'll let go!"
He stopped moving, lowering his hand, and instead seemed to study her thoughtfully. "No, you won't," He disagreed finally.
Taken aback, she looked over her shoulder at him once more with a frown. "What do you mean, no I won't?" She questioned, irritated by this. "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do. You don't know me!"
"Well," He said, giving a small shrug. "You would have done it already."
Tina couldn't see very well through her tears, and her head was still pounding from the rush of emotions she'd experienced over the entire evening - and now this man was making things a lot more confusing. "You're distracting me, go away!"
"I can't," He informed her seriously. "I'm involved now. If you let go, it means I have to jump in after you."
"Don't be absurd! You'll be killed!" She retorted, but she was beginning to feel uncertain now.
The man shrugged off his faded blue coat and began to unlace his shoes. "I'm a rather good swimmer."
"The fall alone would kill you."
"It would hurt," He acknowledged casually, as if discussing a polo match and not flinging oneself off of a boat. "I'm not saying it wouldn't. I'll be honest with you, I'm more concerned about that water being so cold than anything else."
Tina looked down at the black waves roaring below, the reality of what she was doing starting to sink in. "How cold?" She asked after a moment.
Pulling his left boot off, he looked up at her from underneath his fringe. "Freezing, maybe a couple of degrees over." He began to unlace his right shoe now, though his eyes never left her. "Once when I was young, my father took me and my brother on a trip to Scotland during the winter. I wasn't listening to him, and I went through some thin ice - water that cold, like right down there…" He gave a small shudder. "It hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe, you can't think… at least, not about anything but the pain."
Perhaps it was merely the breeze whipping around her bare arms, but Tina felt herself shiver at the thought.
He tugged the right boot off now and straightened up. "Which is why I'm not really looking forward to jumping in there after you - but like I said, I don't have a choice. I suppose I'm still hoping you'll come back over the rail so that I won't have to do it."
"You're crazy," She stated weakly, looking forwards again as her stomach turned.
"That's what everybody says," He mused good-naturedly, taking a step closer to her. "But with all due respect, miss… I'm not the one that's hanging off of the back of a ship here." He took another small step towards her, like he would a spooked horse, and extended his hand once more, this time over the railing and within her reach. "Please just take my hand… you don't want to do this."
For a moment, she didn't move and he worried that she really was going to jump - but then, slowly, she unfastened one hand from the railing and placed it on his own calloused one, using it to help herself turn around to face him. He lifted his eyes to meet hers - and somehow they suddenly seemed to fill her universe; they were a bluish-green, she noticed, beautiful and calm like the water in a painting she had brought onboard with her.
Newt let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding as he met her gaze, taken aback by her eyes; he had been right, they were fierce, a warm brown that made him think of fire in dark water. They were by far the most wonderful eyes he had ever seen, he thought, and he briefly decided that he would have to try and sketch them when he returned to his room.
"I'm Newt Scamander," He told her softly.
The woman's voice quavered slightly, her breathing still uneasy. "I'm Porpentina Esther Goldstein."
He gave her an easy smile. "I'm going to have to get you to write that one down."
It had the desired effect of making her chuckle, immediately growing less tense. "That's why everyone calls me Tina."
"Tina." His smile only grew as he looked at her. "Okay then. Let's get you back over."
Tina felt overcome by sudden vertigo as she lifted her foot to begin climbing, the height terrifying now that she had decided to live. Just as she went to put her foot down on the next rung of the railing, however, her long dress got caught underneath it - and she plunged down with a piercing shriek.
Newt, who was still gripping her hand tightly, was jerked suddenly towards the rail; quickly, he used his other hand to try to pull her back up - but she was terrified, hanging on for dear life and screaming.
"HELP! HELP!"
"I've got you!" Newt tried to reassure her, although he was terrified. "I've got you, I won't let go!"
He tried to lift her bodily over the railing, but she was unable to get any footing in her dress and evening shoes, and she slipped back with another scream. "PLEASE! PLEASE, HELP ME!"
"Tina, listen to me!" He instructed desperately, and her eyes flew to him in terror. "I've got you, Tina, I won't let go. Now pull yourself up and I'll help you, I promise."
Grunting slightly with the effort, he began to heave her up as her hand reached out to grab onto the railing; eventually her foot found purchase on something, and he moved his hands to grip her by the upper arm, awkwardly clutching her by whatever he could reach. As he pulled her up and over the railing using his strength, her arms flailed to rest on his shoulders, holding onto him for dear life; his arm cradled her by the waist as he lifted her weight over the top of the rail, the only thing racing through his mind that he had to save her, he needed to save her-
They fell together onto the deck in a somewhat tangled heap, spinning slightly so that she ended up on her back on the deck with her arms around his neck and him leaning over her. They were both breathing heavily as several officers suddenly came sprinting across the fantail, headed by Quartermaster Rowe.
"Here, what's all this?!"
Newt quickly sat back on his haunches as Tina dropped her arms; she was dishevelled and still sobbing, her dress torn with the hem pushed above her knees - one of her stockings was ripped. The officer glanced from her to the man who was clearly steerage, shaggy-haired, with his jacket off.
"You stand back, and don't move an inch!" Rowe yelled at Newt angrily, and the young man rushed to do so. And then, to the fellow officers, "Fetch the Master at Arms!"
Within a few minutes, Newt found himself being handcuffed by a rather burly man who was, ostensibly, the Master at Arms; it was difficult to be truly outraged at being practically arrested, however, because at least Tina was safe and currently wrapped in one of the ship's warm blankets whilst sitting on a nearby bench. Three first-class men had also been rushed out; one was a moustachioed blowhard, still holding a brandy snifter, and another was clearly a valet to the last man.
Said last man himself was, to put it mildly, rather furious.
"What made you think that you could put your hands on my fiancée?" He fumed, all but spitting straight in the younger man's face. Surprised, Newt's eyes involuntarily slid to Tina; she didn't seem particularly thrilled to see her fiancé, he thought, and he'd even seen an argument between them from afar very briefly. His silence only seemed to make the man angrier - or perhaps it was merely obvious that he was staring at his fiancée. "Look at me, you filth! What did you think you were doing-?!"
"Achilles, stop!" Tina interrupted, standing up and moving to stand between the two. "It was an accident!"
He raised a brow sceptically. "An accident?"
"It was. It was stupid really; I was leaning over and I slipped." She quickly looked at Newt, getting eye contact as she began to expand on her lie. "I was leaning way over to see the… ah… the…" She made a spinning gesture with her hand, feigning ignorance.
"Propellers?" Achilles prompted, clearly resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"That's it, the propellers," She agreed innocently. "And I slipped… and I would have gone overboard, but Mister Scamander here saved me and almost went over himself."
It was a weak lie, Newt thought - but Achilles seemed to have no trouble believing it whatsoever. "You wanted to see-... She wanted to see the propellers," He repeated to everyone else with a forced chuckle.
The man with the moustache - Colonel Gracie, Tina recognised - was shaking his head to himself. "Like I said, women and machinery do not mix."
"Was that the way of it then?" The Master at Arms asked the younger man sternly.
Newt glanced over at Tina, who was staring back pleadingly at him, clearly begging for him to not say what really happened - he made up his mind immediately. "Yes. Yes, that's basically it."
The grateful smile that she gave him made him feel warmer than he'd ever felt before in his life.
"Well, the boy's a hero then! Good for you son, well done!" Gracie decided, clapping Newt on the back as he was uncuffed before turning to Achilles. "So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"
Achilles gave a nod before putting his hands on Tina's shoulders and giving her a squeeze. "Look at you, you must be freezing! Let's get you inside." And he started to lead her away without even a second thought.
Colonel Gracie coughed pointedly. "Ah… perhaps a little something for the boy?"
He stopped, turning back and hesitating. "Hmm. Of course." He looked over to his valet, who had been standing silently the entire time observing. "Mister Abernathy, I think a twenty should do it."
Tina gave a disbelieving chuckle, raising her brows. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?" She questioned pointedly.
Achilles regarded her for a moment, somewhat bemused; Newt watched while he shrugged his coat back on, perplexed by the dynamic between them. "Tina is displeased… Mmmm, what to do?... I know." He turned back to the younger man and appraised him as one might a strange circus act. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow night, to regale the group with your heroic tale."
Newt looked straight from him to Tina. "Alright."
"Good. Settled then." The older man turned to go, leaning close to Colonel Gracie as they walked. "This should be amusing."
As both men snickered together, Achilles put a protective arm around his fiancée to lead her inside; she sent the messy-haired man from steerage one last look over her shoulder before they disappeared, clearly thankful even as she shivered.
"You'll want to tie those," A voice nearby suggested, and Newt turned to see that the man named Abernathy was staring at him condescendingly despite being a full head shorter. "Your shoes - they're unlaced."
"Oh." He glanced down and tried to pretend to be surprised. "Yes, they are. How strange."
"It's interesting," Abernathy continued to note slyly. "The young lady slipped so suddenly and yet you still had time to remove your jacket and your shoes."
His expression was bland as he turned away to rejoin his group, but the coldness in his eyes was enough to make Newt shiver slightly.
What have I gotten myself into?
She was in her nightclothes and just brushing out her hair when the door opened; her fiancé entered as she put her brush down and watched the reflection of him in the cracked mirror of her vanity, trying to appear as neutral as possible.
"I know you've been melancholy," Achilles admitted, his voice unexpectedly tender. "I don't pretend to know why…"
Tina said nothing; he gave a small exhale and began to move towards her, pulling something out from behind his back.
"I intended to save this until the engagement gala next week," He informed her, perching on the edge of the table; in his hands was a jewellery box, which he slowly began to unlatch. "But I thought tonight… perhaps as a reminder of my feelings for you…"
He opened the box and Tina inhaled sharply. "Mercy Lewis, Achilles!"
Inside, laid out on black velvet, was an absolutely huge malevolent blue stone that was cut into the shape of a heart. It seemed to glitter with an infinity of scalpel-like inner reflections, far more beautiful and radiant than any other piece of jewellery she had ever worn in her entire life - more than anything even Seraphina owned for that matter.
"Is it a-"
"A diamond? Yes," He finished for her, chuckling at her shock even as he lifted the necklace out of the box and placed it around her throat. "Fifty-six carats, to be exact. It was worn by Louis the Sixteenth, and they called it Le Couer De La Mer... the-"
"The Heart of the Ocean," Tina finished, eyes wide.
"Yes," Achilles smiled, clearly pleased as she raised a hand to touch the blue stone that now sat on her chest.
They both gazed at themselves in the mirror for a moment, his fingers caressing her long neck and throat; she took a deep breath. "It's… overwhelming."
"It's for royalty… and we are royalty, Tina." He hesitated; for the first time his emotions were unguarded to her, and he was disarmed despite himself by her elegance and beauty. "You know, there's nothing I couldn't give you… There's nothing I'd deny you, if you would not deny me." He looked away from the mirror and at her, black eyes searing into her. "Oh, open your heart to me, Tina."
Tina met his gaze for a few more seconds before looking back to the mirror and reaching up to touch the blue heart once more; it was heavy, she realised, a great heavy weight that threatened to pull her under - in a way, it was a symbol of her engagement, just like the ring on her finger and his possessive touch.
It was not a present, she knew, but a mark of possession.
"Of course, his gift was only to reflect light back onto himself, to illuminate the greatness that was Achilles Tolliver. It was a cold stone… a heart of ice…"
1996
"...After all these years, I can still feel it closing around my throat like a dog collar." She looked around at the audience that gathered around to listen to her: the team of the Keldysh, her grandson, her great-granddaughter. "I can still feel its weight. If you could have felt it, not just seen it…"
Ron nudged Harry. "That's the whole point of this, isn't it? To find the bloody thing?" When his friend just shrugged, he straightened up and turned back to the elderly lady, clearly perplexed. "So let me get this right… You were gonna kill yourself by jumping off the Titanic?"
"Ronald," Hermione began warningly.
Luna frowned. "I don't think now is the time, Ron-"
"But that's great! All you had to do was wait two days!" Ron pointed out, starting to guffaw.
"Hey, shut the fuck up!" Ellie snapped, but to everyone's surprise Tina was laughing too.
"It's alright," She assured the teenager, patting her hand. "I can see the humour in it."
Ginny quickly checked her watch, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Hermione do the same; hours had passed since the old woman had begun talking. "Tina," The bushy-haired woman began, trying to keep her tone pleasant. "Can you perhaps tell us more about the diamond? Like what did Tolliver do with it after that?"
The mirth disappeared from Tina's face completely, and suddenly she looked far more frail and old than she had all day. "I'm afraid I'm feeling a little tired, Miss Granger. I'm sorry."
Her grandson, picking up the cue, immediately began to wheel her out; Hermione jumped up quickly, clearly trying to stop them from leaving. "Wait, can you give us something to go on first? Like who had access to the safe? What about the Abernathy guy? Did he have the combination-?"
"Hey, that's enough," Rolf interrupted firmly, glaring at her. "My Nana wants to rest, so you let her rest or we go straight home."
As she was taken out, her old hand reappeared at the doorway to give a frail wave goodbye.
"The partners are angry," Hermione sighed later that evening, leaning back against the railing on deck and pulling her coat tighter around herself. "We're running out of time."
"Well then buy us more time," Ginny ordered.
"It's not that simple! We're costing thirty thousand a day, and we're six days over," The older woman pointed out tersely. "I'm just telling you what they've told me - they're going to pull the plug soon."
Luna frowned, tucking a loose piece of pale hair behind her ear. "Can't you tell them that we need another day or two?"
"Luna-"
"We're so close," She insisted desperately. "I can feel that we're close - we already know that she had the diamond on, we just need to let her tell her story and then we'll know for sure."
"We just need to work her a bit more," Ginny agreed. "Just a little bit more, and we'll be there-"
They were interrupted by Rolf suddenly approaching them; judging by the furious look on his face, it was clear that he had heard at least some of their conversation. "Rolf," Luna began quietly. "This is not what you think… Let's just talk for a moment-"
"Don't you mean work me?" He clarified dryly, furrowing his brows at them.
"Look, we're running out of time," Ginny stated, clearly preferring a direct approach. "We need your help, you and your niece-"
"You want me and my fourteen year old niece to browbeat my one-hundred-and-one year old grandmother into telling you about some diamond?" Rolf questioned, clearly disgusted by such an idea. "I came here to tell you to back off - you don't press my Nana, you don't press Ellie, and you don't press me."
All three of the women had the decency to appear somewhat embarrassed by his words. "We don't want you to do that," Hermione agreed gently. "It's just… we've spent over three years of our lives doing this and all of our money is tied up in it. We personally don't care that much about the diamond, to be honest with you, but we have to find it to keep the investors and partners happy."
"Rolf, I'm genuinely interested in everything your grandmother has said," Luna told him sincerely. "I've studied everything I can about the Titanic ever since I was thirteen years old, and hearing someone who was actually there talking about it…" She shook her head, eyes misty. "This means a lot to me, and I'm honoured that your grandmother has chosen to share it with us."
Rolf considered her for a moment before his shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Look, she's going to do this in her way, in her own time - don't forget, she's the one who contacted you. She's out here for her own reasons, whatever they are."
"Maybe she wants to make peace with the past," Luna said sagely.
"What past?" He retorted sceptically. "She has never once, not even once, ever said a word about being on the Titanic until two days ago."
"Then we're all meeting your grandmother for the first time, don't you think?"
Rolf looked at all three of the women hard, studying their faces. "You really think she was there?"
Whilst Hermione and Ginny both hesitated, Luna thought about everything Tina had told them so far; every single detail, the way in which she spoke with such certainty and clarity, as if reliving the memories in the moment, told her everything she needed to know.
"Yes," She agreed softly, giving him a smile. "I believe her - she was there."
Tina was just settling in her bed, Billy curled up at the bottom by her feet, when Ellie approached her; she was already dressed for bed too, in her warmest pyjamas and her long reddish-brown hair tied back in a messy ponytail.
"What's wrong, dear?" She asked when the girl didn't say anything. "You look troubled."
The teenager hesitated before sitting down on the side of the bunk, careful not to jostle the old woman too much. "Nana? This… This is all true, right? You were really on the Titanic?"
"You don't believe me?"
"It's not that," She added hurriedly. "It's just… Why did you never say anything before now?" When her great-grandmother said nothing, she looked down at her hands and began to fidget. "It's a long time to keep something like that a secret, you know? It's one of the most famous ships in the entire world, and… and, I mean… you knew I was interested in it. You listened to me talk for hours and hours just telling you facts about the Titanic, watched me reading so many books about it, and you still never told me you had actually been there."
The old woman laid a frail wrinkled hand on the girl's smooth soft one. "You're upset that I never told you?"
"I thought we told each other everything," Ellie mumbled, giving a half-hearted shrug. "That's all."
Tina looked closely at her great-granddaughter, studying her face closely. "I had my reasons," She said finally. "And it was never with the intention of hurting you or leaving you out of a secret - I've never told anybody, not even your great-grandfather."
"You didn't even tell Pops?" She questioned, confused by this. "Why not?"
The woman merely smiled sadly. "A woman's heart is an ocean full of secrets, Ellie; one day you'll understand what I mean." She squeezed her hand weakly. "It's unbelievable…"
"What is?" The girl asked curiously.
Tina gave a quiet and gentle laugh. "How much you are both like me and unlike me… you're the version of me I wish I'd been at your age."
"You're just saying that," Ellie huffed, but she was grinning too. "Nana, did you really say that Freud thing to Bruce Ismay? The J. Bruce Ismay of White Star Line?" At the woman's nod, she let out a snort of laughter. "You are such a fucking badass, you know that?"
"I had my little ways of rebelling," Tina agreed, eyes twinkling. "And I'm so flattered by your compliment that I'm going to pretend I didn't hear the language that just left your mouth."
"Sorry," The girl apologised immediately, though they both knew that it would not be the last swear she uttered in the slightest; after a few seconds, she grew serious again. "Nana? Were… Were you really going to jump?"
Her great-grandmother nodded. "Yes - I'm glad now that I didn't, but at the time it truly felt like I had no other option."
Ellie bit her lip. "I'm glad you didn't too."
"I know." She sighed softly then, settling back against the pillows. "I really am tired, dear. I'm going to rest for a bit - and then in the morning, I'll be ready to tell you all more, I promise."
"Yeah, alright. G' Night, Nana." The teenager accepted a kiss from the frail old woman before pressing her own to a wrinkled cheek and pulling away. "I love you."
"I love you too."
It was only as Ellie retreated to her own bunk and settled underneath the covers, thinking over everything she'd heard so far, that she realised what the name of the man who had saved her great-grandmother had been.
Just how many secrets are in your ocean, Nana?
"Var är Sven?" - "Where is Sven?" XD
Reviews and comments are, as always, lovingly accepted!