Hello all! I'm really sorry that it took me this long to update - but hopefully the length of the chapter and the content makes up for it!
Basically I went back to work full-time last Monday, was rehearsing Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday for my play, had shows to perform on Thursday, Friday and Saturday, and on top of that I've been really sick :( I've been battling a nasty chest infection for two weeks now, taking antibiotics and having to buy a new inhaler to help me breathe. So... yep. Not been terribly easy, I'm afraid, but I've worked on this fic whenever I've had the chance!
I'm not 100% happy with the chapter because I haven't really done much editing to it, but I wanted to get it out there; I've edited it slightly as I've written more and more over the last week and a half, and again I've briefly done some now as I've posted it here, but other than that it's completely rough. I hope people will enjoy it anyway!
Anyway, this is 13.8k+ words of Newtina on the Titanic, Achilles being a dick, Molly Brown being a legend, and me struggling to write through a chest infection on top of a full work week AND money problems. Have fun reading!
"The next day, Saturday, I remember thinking how the sunlight felt, as if I hadn't felt the sun in years…"
The third class general room was the social center of steerage life; in a contrast to the opulence of the first class, it was a stark area with very little extravagance or flair - but it was a loud and boisterous place full of energy, which more than made up for any lack of decoration or style. Mothers with babies chatted in various languages whilst children ran between the benches, whooping and giggling whilst their elders scolded them; one group of three boys were even shrieking with delight as they chased after a rat, trying to hit it with a shoe and causing general havoc. There were old women yelling, groups of men playing chess, girls doing needlepoint and reading dime novels, even an upright piano that a few people attempted to play with varying degrees of success.
On a bench near the centre of the room, Newt was sitting with Modesty Barebone whilst Theseus and Lally chatted amicably with the little girl's brother; she had been thrilled when he handed her one of his conté pencils before holding open his sketchbook, and now the two were drawing funny faces together while she giggled.
"That's you," She told Newt, pointing to one of her little drawings.
"Me?" He repeated, smiling widely at her. "It's very good - I especially like how you've drawn my freckles. I'll have to get you to draw a full portrait of me, I think!"
"You two are travelling alone then?" Lally asked Credence, watching the exchange nearby with a grin.
The dark-haired man gave a nod. "Yes, just me and Modesty; we're all each other has left now."
"No parents?" Theseus questioned, rather surprised by this.
Credence gave a small shrug, though his eyes flashed with pain momentarily. "We did have a mother, but… but I couldn't let Modesty stay with her. I just couldn't, not after…" He ran the fingers of his right hand over the back of his left, tracing what were clearly scars. "I couldn't let her do it to Modesty, so I took her out of there as soon as I turned eighteen and we've been on our own since."
"America is a new life then," Lally guessed, to which he nodded. "I think that's very brave of you, taking on the responsibility of your little sister so young."
"She's my sister," He said simply. "I'd do anything for her."
Theseus patted the younger man gently on the shoulder, nodding understandingly. "My parents died about five years ago - I was twenty three and already working, but Newt was only fifteen. Even with me living at home and helping my parents pay the bills, we were struggling to afford to keep the house and put food on the table… after our mother and father died, I couldn't just leave him - and it's been that way since."
Tommy Ryan, the Irish gentleman they had met the day previously, had come over and was now watching Newt and Modesty with a cigarette in his hand. "Hey, Newt, mind if I take a look at some of your drawings?"
"Hmm? Oh, umm… alright," He allowed, suddenly a lot more awkward as he quickly extracted some papers that had come loose from the book. "They're only rough, very basic…"
"Cheers," Tommy muttered, putting his cigarette between his teeth so he could hold the sheets properly. Almost immediately, Newt had turned back to Modesty, his eyes lighting up once more as he grinned at her childish happiness.
"Your brother's real good with her," Credence pointed out to Theseus with a smile. "Does he have kids of his own?"
"Who? Newt?" The older Englishman let out an amused chuckle. "Absolutely not - he'd have to actually be with a girl for that."
Newt's cheeks grew pink; Lally shoved her boyfriend's shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Don't be so rude to him," She admonished as he laughed. "He's only young - only twenty - and he has plenty of time for romance in his life! And besides," She mused, giving the younger man a knowing look. "He seemed rather taken with that girl on deck yesterday afternoon."
"You mean that first class little rich girl?" Theseus shook his head to himself. "He can look all he wants, but he'd have a better chance of… of… Oi, Tommy, what was the phrase you used yesterday?"
"O' angels flying out of o' arse," The Irishman answered, not looking up from the sketches.
Newt's face was burning red now even as he focused on helping Modesty with her drawing; Lally huffed at the other men, folding her arms. "Newt is just as good as any of those swells in the upper class - we all are."
Sensing he'd annoyed her, Theseus stopped smirking and reached out to put an arm around her shoulders. "Lally, come on, I'm only teasing him - of course I think he's just as good as any rich prat in a fancy suit with money. In fact, he's better than any of them could ever hope to be."
She huffed but relaxed slightly. "You're lucky I love you, Theseus Scamander, because Lord knows why else I put up with you."
"My charming good looks?" He joked, laughing when she gave him another shove.
Tommy finally looked up from one of the sketches, glancing across the room; to his amazement, he saw that the person in the sketch was sitting nearby, every little detail represented in the drawing. Taking his cigarette from his mouth, he exhaled and gave a disbelieving chuckle. "Good… very good!"
"What about mine?" Modesty asked innocently.
"Yours are also very good," Newt reassured her, taking his drawings back from the Irishman. "Now watch how you're gripping the pencil… that's it, long strokes…"
All of a sudden, the room grew silent and everything seemed to still; Theseus looked around, curious to find out what had caused so many people to simultaneously stop what they were doing, and almost had to do a double take. "Oh my god…"
Lally also turned to see what all the fuss was about, and her mouth almost dropped in shock. "Newt!" She whispered excitedly, reaching to tap his shoulder. "Newt, look!"
Newt looked up and quickly followed their gazes - and his heart leapt in his chest.
It was Tina, making her way through the crowd of steerage passengers; she was wearing a yellow and white dress, dark tresses pinned to her head, and stood out immediately among the third-class. She was uncomfortably aware of the fact all of them were staring openly at her as she passed, some with resentment, others with awe, and she smiled politely at everyone around her as she walked with purpose. After a moment, she spotted him and smiled even wider, walking straight to him.
Newt quickly rose from his seat to meet her, unable to stop himself from gazing.
"Hello, Mister Scamander," She greeted, voice soft.
Theseus, Lally and Tommy were absolutely floored, staring between the two with unabashed shock; they simply couldn't believe what was happening before their very own eyes.
"Hello again," Newt replied, smiling shyly back at her
"May I speak with you?" Tina looked around at the rest of the group, all of whom were gawping and waiting eagerly, before focusing on him again. "In private?" She added.
"Oh. Umm, yes, of course," He agreed before looking back to where Modesty was still sitting on the bench. "I've got to go now - we can do more drawing later if you like."
The blonde girl handed his charcoal and sketchbook back to him, pouting and clearly disappointed. "Okay. Bye, Newt."
"Goodbye, Modesty," He said back kindly as she went to sit with her brother, and then he motioned to Tina. "Please, after you."
As the two left, Newt glanced over his shoulder to his group; Theseus raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting answers at some point for what was going on. The younger man gave a final shrug before following Tina up the stairs and out of the third-class general room.
The stunned silence returned to lively noisiness the second the two had gone, all of them talking about what had just happened and speculating. Tommy exhaled heavily, shaking his head to himself as he turned to the others. "Tell me, Theseus, has your brother by any chance actually had angels fly out of his arse?"
"I think that would make more sense than whatever the hell he's gotten himself into now," Theseus muttered incredulously. "Tommy, I think I need to bum another cigarette off you because that… that was something."
"You promised Newt we were quitting," Lally reminded him, but she willingly took one of her own from the Irishman's hand.
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him," He stated, lighting both of their cigarettes. "None of this makes sense."
His girlfriend sighed, giving a nod. "I know. And did you hear what he said? "Hello again"… how and when did they meet in the first place? He only saw her yesterday!"
"Yer brother works fast," Tommy joked, clearly impressed. "Didn't think he had it in him."
Theseus huffed out a laugh, exhaling the smoke from his cigarette as he did so. "To be honest, neither did we."
Out on the boat deck, the two of them found themselves walking side-by-side; at first neither of them spoke, both of them clearly feeling awkward but for very different reasons, and it didn't help when other people they passed glanced curiously at the mismatched couple. Finally, after a few minutes, Tina politely cleared her throat and began to talk about how fine the weather had been that day; it was a somewhat stilted conversation at first, but as time passed and they walked more together, it became easier to exchange what was evidently just distracting smalltalk.
As they finished another lap of the boat deck, walking by some deckchairs that had been set out, Newt looked at her inquisitively. "Well, Tina… We must have walked about a mile around this boat deck, we've discussed the weather and even how I grew up… but I don't think that's why you came to talk to me, is it?"
Tina hesitated awkwardly, looking down at the floor and then back up at him before beginning to speak. "Mister Scamander, I-"
"Newt," He insisted; it sounded far too formal when she referred to him otherwise.
"Newt," She began again only to find that she didn't know how to say what was on her mind; it was so frustrating, she thought, that she had spent all morning trying to work up the courage to face him and now she was faltering. "I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for…for pulling me back, but for your discretion."
"You're welcome," He said carefully, though he was avoiding her eyes now.
Tina sighed to herself. "Look, I know what you must be thinking. Poor little rich girl… what does she know about misery?"
Newt frowned at her, stopping in his tracks. "No," He disagreed, voice surprisingly firm. "No, that's not what I was thinking at all. What I was thinking was what could have happened to hurt this girl so much that she thought she had no way out?"
"Well, I…" For some reason, his startling honesty struck her, and she felt compelled to tell this man the truth - after all, it was their secret, she supposed. "It was everything," Tina admitted, walking over to the railing and looking out over the sea. "It was my whole world and all the people in it, and the inertia of my life plunging ahead… and me, powerless to stop it. I was trapped in it, like an insect in amber." She turned back to face him, the words rushing from her now. "I just had to get away… just run and run and run… and then I was at the back rail and there was no more ship - even the Titanic wasn't big enough, not enough to get away from them. And before I'd really thought about it, I was over the rail: I was so furious…" She sighed, lowering her head in embarrassment. "Mercy Lewis, I am such a fool."
Newt's eyes had grown wider as he listened to her, though he didn't appear to be particularly judgemental of anything she had said. "And the man last night?" He asked, trying to keep his tone as light as he could. "Is he one of them?"
"The man?... Oh. You mean Achilles." She grimaced. "Yes, he's one of them - he is them." Suddenly she held her left hand out to him, showing off a sizeable and undoubtedly expensive engagement ring.
He couldn't stop the way his jaw dropped at the sight of it; there was no doubt that it was heavy, he thought, and he wondered if her hand hurt from having to wear it all day and night. "Good Lord. With that thing on your finger, you'd have probably sunk straight to the bottom." He mused.
Tina bit her lip, both out of anxiety and to hide the small laugh that threatened to burst out of her at his reaction. "Five hundred invitations have already gone out," She stated nervously. "All of Philadelphia and New York society will be there, and all the while I feel I'm… I'm standing in the middle of a crowded room screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one even looks up."
Newt was now studying her face carefully, his eyes seeming to pierce her very soul; it took him a moment to speak, clearly debating if what he was preparing to say was appropriate or not. "Do you love him?"
Surprised, she met his gaze and frowned. "Pardon me?"
"Do you love him?" He repeated, as if it was that simple.
"You're being very rude," She informed him coolly. "You shouldn't be asking me this."
"Well, it's a rather simple question," Newt insisted. "Do you love him or not?"
Tina gave a sharp and indignant laugh at this. "This is not a suitable conversation-"
"Why can't you just answer the question?" He asked her pointedly.
"This is absurd," She chided stubbornly, and now her dark eyes were glaring at him. "You don't know me and I don't know you, and we are not having this conversation at all." When he merely proceeded to look at her, as if still expecting an answer, it only served to irritate her even more. "You're rather rude and presumptuous, and I'm going to leave now."
He tilted his head as if he were merely watching a mildly interesting play. "Oh?"
"Newt - Mister Scamander - it's been a pleasure," Tina continued hotly, taking his hand and shaking it vigorously as she went on. "I sought you out to thank you and now I have thanked you…"
"And you've insulted me," Newt pointed out placidly.
"Well, you deserved it!" She retorted.
"Right."
"Right…"
He looked down at where their hands were still connected and back up again. "I'm sorry, I thought you were leaving?"
"I am!" Tina snapped, immediately letting go and beginning to walk away; within a few seconds, however, she turned back to him. "You're so annoying!" He said nothing as once more she went in the opposite direction to leave - only to swivel around almost immediately once more, eyes blazing as she stalked her way back to him. "Wait. I don't have to leave - this is my part of the ship! You leave!"
Newt considered this. "I suppose that's true, yes… but now you're the one being rude, don't you think?"
She opened her mouth only to close it again, lost for words in her outrage; no one had ever spoken to her like that before, especially not some common steerage boy, and it was as infuriating as it was exciting. As she struggled on what to say in response, she noticed that he was holding something large and bound in leather under his arm. "What is this stupid thing you're carrying around?" She asked tersely, snatching it from him before he could answer and immediately opening it. "What are you, an artist or something?"
"I suppose you could say that," He allowed, not seeming particularly concerned that she was now leafing through it.
Curiosity growing, Tina sat down on one of the nearby deckchairs so that she could open the sketchbook properly. "These are rather good," She allowed. "They're… They're very good actually."
'Very good' was a severe understatement; each one of the sketches were masterfully drawn to show the smallest details of whatever the subject had been. There were a number of animal sketches, from large elephants to the smallest of insects, and each one was labelled in scrawling handwriting to show the various characteristics each creature possessed, notes on everything from their habitats and feeding habits to their behaviour.
"You're an animal lover," She stated, and for some reason this piece of information about him made her feel pleased.
Newt sat down on the chair next to hers and smiled somewhat bashfully. "I find that they're typically easier to understand than humans - and far less judgemental."
His sketches of people were just as wonderful, Tina found; each one seemed to express a little bit of humanity in some shape or form, whether it be the hands of an old woman or the face of a newborn baby. "Newt, this is exquisite work," She gasped, turning a page and seeing that this one was of a sleeping little girl, her hands clasped over her bare chest; two much larger hands cradled her, lined with the roughness of decades at work. "Grandpere Jean and Cybella Louise… this is incredible."
His freckled cheeks grew pink at the praise. "That's kind of you to say; they didn't think much of them in Paris."
"Paris?" Tina repeated, surprised when he nodded. "You do get around for a po-..." She stopped as she realised what she was about to say, clearing her throat. "I mean… well, a person of limited means…"
"I'm poor, you can say it," Newt acknowledged good-naturedly, not offended in the slightest.
She was laughing under her breath when she turned another page - and she stopped immediately. "Well, well, well…"
The man's face suddenly blazed scarlet; she had now come upon a series of rather detailed nudes. "I… I can explain. They're not… it's not like that, it's…"
But she merely shook her head, unable to take her eyes from the languid beauty he had created out of little more than charcoal on the page; they were soulful, real, with expressive eyes and hands that seemed alive even without colour. In a strange way, they seemed more like portraits of beauty than some kind of perverted material, and even as she blushed she couldn't help but muse that they were almost uncomfortably intimate.
"And these were drawn from life?" She asked, trying to be as adult as possible about this.
Newt was staring down at his sketchbook in her hands, clearly trying to avoid looking her in the eye. "One thing about Paris is that there are quite a few women who don't mind taking their clothes off."
One drawing in particular caught Tina's eye; it was of a girl posed half in sunlight, half in shadow. Her hands lay at her chin, one furled and the other open like a flower. It was graceful, she thought, like a Steiglitz print of Georgia O'Keefe. It also didn't escape her notice that this woman appeared in a number of the sketches in his book, and for some reason it made something inside of her uncomfortable.
"You liked this girl," She stated knowingly. "You used her several times."
"Who? Leta?" Newt ran a hand through his messy hair before giving a noncommittal shrug. "She was a friend, yes. Just a friend."
Tina smiled disbelievingly. "I think you must have had a love affair with her…"
"No. No, absolutely not," He insisted, laughing a little nervously. "She really was just a friend; it was Theseus who had the love affair with her, not me."
"Theseus?"
"My brother," He clarified. "Leta broke his heart shortly before we left Paris, and it wasn't until we met Lally that he was truly himself again."
Tina turned the page, and this time the girl in the drawing was a beautiful young Asian woman with smokey dark eyes. "And this one? You've used her several times too."
"Well, she had beautiful hands, you see," Newt told her seriously, showing some sketches of just a delicate pair of hands. "Her name was Nagini."
"So you didn't have a love affair with this stunning naked woman either?" She joked sceptically.
He laughed and shook his head. "No, no, no, no - just with her hands," He reiterated. "She was… well… a one-legged prostitute."
Tina's eyes immediately darted to him in shock, giving him a look of incredulous disbelief; still smiling somewhat awkwardly, he flipped the page over to show her.
"See?"
"...Oh!" Tina managed, aghast at the drawing - he hadn't been lying. "I… I see, yes."
They both shared an awkward chuckle as Newt smiled somewhat reminiscently. "She was sweet though, seemed to have a good sense of humour all things considered… oh, and then there's this lady." He turned over a couple more sheets and stopped on a sketch of what appeared to be a respectable older woman sitting at a bar with a drink. "She used to sit at this bar every night wearing every piece of jewellery she owned, just waiting for her long lost love. They called her Madame Bijou. See how her clothes are all moth-eaten?"
As she looked down at the drawing, admiring the skillful way he had captured this woman, she couldn't help but feel a strange kind of kinship with the solitary patron dressed in expensive furs and wearing numerous pieces of jewellery; the loneliness in her eyes even as she sat straight, the longing look of someone who had discovered joy and lost it mixed with the wisdom that came from someone who had lived her life. "You have a gift, Newt," She remarked, raising her eyes to him and smiling softly. "You do. You see people."
"I see you." His gaze was piercing, studying her in much the same way that he must have studied all of the things he'd drawn.
"And…?" Tina prompted, straightening up in her chair expectantly.
Newt seemed to hesitate for a brief moment as he considered the right words, though when he spoke his voice was firm. "You wouldn't have jumped."
That afternoon saw Percival and Seraphina having tea with the Countess of Rothes, a woman by the name of Lucy Noël Martha Leslie, a beautiful blonde with a proud patrician face who was sailing to join her husband in America; she was renowned for her popularity as a hostess, her beauty, and the friendships with many members of the aristocracy and the British Royal Family, including Princess Louise and the Duchess of Wellington. Despite being of a noble disposition and high rank, she had also become quite known for her charitable work, including with the Red Cross, a fact that the couple couldn't help but admire.
"How exciting for you both," She said, her tone friendly. "I hear that your ward, Tina, is engaged to the heir of the Tolliver Steel business."
"Yes," Seraphina agreed with a polite smile. "We're very happy for her, of course; we truly can't imagine a better match."
"And your other ward, Queenie? How old is she now?"
Percival put his cup down and leaned back in his seat with a small sigh. "Just turned fifteen this past January - she's still at finishing school."
"Percy takes the girls' education very seriously," His wife stated, clearly proud of this fact. "He believes they should be just as educated as any boy or man."
The countess was nodding approvingly as she sipped some of her tea. "How lucky those two girls are to have a guardian who cares for them so."
Out of the corner of her eye, Seraphina suddenly noticed someone coming across the room; dressed in a smart black ensemble and overly large hat was Molly Brown. For a moment, she thought about allowing the woman to join them for tea; she seemed nice from what she could tell, even if her sense of humour was rather loud and booming at times - but then she remembered the way Achilles had sneered as they discussed her in the private rooms the night before, the way he had stressed that none of them should exchange more than a required few polite pleasantries with her.
Seraphina Picquery-Graves was not a woman who allowed anyone, men included, to tell her what to do, and under different circumstances she'd have ignored Achilles' orders - but this was not about her own pride or freewill, it was about securing Tina's future, and if appeasing the heir to the Tolliver steel magnate was the way to do it, then so be it.
Percival caught her eye then, and she knew he was thinking the exact same thing as he sighed. "That Brown woman is coming this way. Come, let's go before she sits with us."
They were just rising from their seats as Molly arrived, a cheerful smile on her face. "Hello girls, Mister Graves," She added good-naturedly, sending him a quick wink. "I was hoping I'd catch you at tea."
"We're awfully sorry you missed it," Seraphina said apologetically, unable to meet the other woman's eyes. "The Countess and I are just off to take the air on the boat deck."
To her surprise, Molly just smiled even more. "What a lovely idea! I need to catch up on my gossip."
There was no polite way to deny her - Seraphina shot her husband a look, to which he merely shrugged before nodding to the woman in front of them. "I think that's a capital idea. Mrs Brown, may I escort you?"
"Achilles-"
"Would not want us to allow a lady to walk the promenade on her own," Percival informed his wife bemusedly as Molly slipped her arm into his, and she sensed that he was enjoying going against the other man's orders.
Seraphina wasn't sure whether to grit her teeth or allow herself a smile as they made their way to the Grand Staircase in order to go up to the decks; as they crossed the room, they passed Bruce Ismay and Captain Smith at another table, having just finished their own tea. Ismay was holding a slip of paper in one hand, a cigarette in the other while he studied the words carefully.
"So you've not lit the last four boilers?" He noted critically.
The captain was unperturbed as the other man lifted his head. "No, I don't see the need," He informed the other man confidently. "We are making excellent time."
Ismay folded the paper in his hands, somewhat impatiently. "Captain, the press knows the size of Titanic - now I want them to marvel at her speed. We must give them something new to print." He took a drag of his cigarette, somewhat agitated. "This maiden voyage of Titanic must make headlines!"
"Mr Ismay…" The smile that had been present on the older man's face was gone; as he spoke, he was careful in his phrasing. "I would prefer not to push the engines until they've been properly run in."
Bruce took another drag of his cigarette, staring him down somewhat coolly. "Of course, I'm just a passenger. I leave it to your good offices to decide what's best. But," He added slyly. "What a glorious end to your last crossing if we were to get into New York Tuesday night and surprise them all, make the morning papers… Retire with a bang, eh, E.J.?"
Captain Smith was silent and still as he considered this before giving a stiff nod, clearly not entirely pleased with his own agreement.
Ismay sat back in his seat with his cigarette, giving a satisfied smile. "Good man."
As the late afternoon sun began to turn golden and warm, Newt and Tina were strolling aft, past people lounging on deck chairs and stewards who were scurrying to serve tea or hot cocoa.
"I'll be honest," Newt told her, almost apologetically. "I didn't care too much for all that dotism or cubism, it just had no heart to it."
Tina gave a small laugh, shaking her head to herself. "I like some of it."
"Really?" He asked dubiously.
"Yes!"
"Well… Paris for me was more about living on the streets and trying to put it on the paper," He explained to her. "Does that make sense?"
Tina smiled even as she let out a small sigh. "Well… my dream has always been to just run away and become an artist… living in a garret, poor but free…"
Newt wasn't sure if she was joking or not, but he grinned anyway. "With all due respect to you, Tina," He laughed, not unkindly. "I don't think you'd last two days; there's no hot water, and there's hardly any caviar-"
"I happen to hate caviar!" She interrupted, and her sudden anger took him aback. "And I hate people telling me what dreams I should and shouldn't have!"
"I'm sorry," He apologised genuinely, feeling mortified now; he had hoped that his attempt at a joke would be received well but, as always happened when he attempted to join in other people's humour, he seemed to have just made a mess of things. "Really, I am. I'm not mocking you, Tina, I promise."
Tina considered this before nodding. "Well, alright. It's just that everyone expects me to be this delicate little flower, which I'm not! I'm sturdy, I'm strong as a horse! I want to do something, not just sit around and be decorative!" She held out her hands as they walked, her voice impassioned. "You see these hands? They were made for work-"
"Care for something, miss?" A passing porter interrupted politely, holding a tray with a pot and some cups. "Some tea or some bullion perhaps?"
"No!" Tina huffed out, appalled by his interruption; Newt was unable to stop the bemused laugh that escaped from his mouth at her frustration, even as they started to stroll again. "There's something in me, Newt… Like a dynamo. I feel it. I don't know what it is, whether I should be an artist or… or a sculptor or… or a writer!"
"A writer?" Newt repeated interestedly.
"Don't laugh-"
"I'm not," He assured her sincerely, and when she looked at his face she saw that his eyes were bright. "It's just that I've always thought the same thing; I would love to publish a book someday."
"You write as well as draw?" She asked in surprise.
Newt hesitated, suddenly growing shy. "Well… I don't really write, at least not fiction. No, I've always thought about perhaps publishing my sketches and research in a book about animals - like a bestiary or some kind of encyclopaedia." At her curious look, he looked down at the floor and elaborated further. "I have a love of all creatures, you see - large ones, small ones, mammals, insects, anything - and I imagined that maybe… it's a bit silly, I suppose, but I want to one day write a book about animals so that maybe other people will learn to love them too, so that people won't be so afraid of them."
"Oh, but that sounds like a wonderful idea," Tina remarked, and his gaze swivelled to her quickly in surprise. "I knew you were an animal lover when I saw the drawings in your sketchbook; I'll be honest, I don't know a great deal about many animals, but I suppose I do like seeing art and photographs of them… I think it would be interesting to know more about them."
"You do?" He asked quietly, unable to believe his ears.
She nodded, and while he was admittedly not the best at reading people, he knew that she was being completely serious. "Of course. We're not the only creatures on this planet after all, and many of them will have been here long before us - and will still be here long after us, I suppose." Tina gave a small half-hearted chuckle. "Achilles said that's a foolish thing to think, but…"
"No, not at all," Newt assured her, and his smile was so soft it made her heart give a leap in her chest. "I happen to believe that too; the animal kingdom has proven that it's far better at adapting than most of humanity, so I think it's certain that most species will outlive the human race."
"You seem to prefer animals to people," She noted. "You told me earlier that you find them easier to understand than other people, that they're far less judgemental." When he nodded in agreement, she tilted her head curiously. "So… does this mean that the animals in your sketchbook, they're drawn from life?"
Newt nodded again, seeming more enthusiastic than he had all day now that they were talking about something he had an interest in. "Yes, all of them are in fact. Some of them were sketches from zoos or circuses - which sadly are usually awful places for animals to be, and if it weren't for my brother or Lally stopping me then I'd have probably been arrested for trying to free them - but there are a few animals that I've watched in their natural habitats and been able to observe."
They continued to talk of animals as they walked, shoulder to shoulder and oblivious of the odd looks they were receiving from the other passengers on deck. By the time they stopped and leaned on a railing to look out at the ocean, the sky was painted with orange light as the sun began to set and the ship's lights were starting to come on; their conversation had naturally progressed from the third-class man discussing the animals he'd seen and to his travels.
"... My brother and I found that logging got to be too much work, and Theseus was always insistent that we not stay doing something that made us so miserable and left us in pain, so we travelled to Dorset for a bit," He explained wistfully. "Our family used to live there for a time, so we knew the area well. Between the two of us, we had enough money to rent a small shack for a couple of weeks, and I started sketching down by the cliffs; there'd be people down there who'd ask for portraits, and they'd pay me ten pence a piece."
"A whole ten pence?" Tina asked with a raised brow.
But Newt was nodding seriously, clearly not getting it. "Yes, it was a rather nice way to make some money actually… I could make a pound a day sometimes. But what I really loved sketching were the rock formations and cliffs themselves; there's a long stretch on the English Channel where they contain many fossils, and the rocks show millions of years of geological history. There's also Durdle Door, which is an ancient stone arch, and Lulworth Cove nearby has layered cliffs. Eventually it got cold, however, and that's when we decided to go to Paris." He grinned to himself. "When we get to America, Theseus has promised that we'll take a sailboat out to watch some dolphins, and Lally has told us about this pier in Santa Monica that she wants to go back to; she said there's a rollercoaster, which is admittedly not really something I want to do, but… apparently I could make some money sketching down by the pier, and there's horses too."
Tina looked out at the dusk sky, giving a small sigh. "Why can't I be like you, Newt? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it." She turned to him, and when she smiled it was somewhat unhappily. "Say we'll go there sometime… to that pier… even if we only ever just talk about it."
Newt seemed surprised, but he nodded nonetheless. "Alright, we'll go - I'm sure Theseus and Lally wouldn't mind. We could ride horses on the beach even… but I think you'd have to do it properly, not side saddle."
"You mean… one leg on each side?" She clarified, as if such a thing were unheard of.
He grinned even wider. "Yes, I do believe so - it's the only way I've ever ridden a horse, after all."
She let out a small laugh before quieting and looking at him inquisitively. "... Can you show me?"
"Sure," He agreed without hesitating. "If you like."
"I… I think I would," Tina decided, smiling brightly at him. "Teach me to ride like a man."
He grinned. "I will - if you want to learn how to smoke or spit like a man, however, you'll have better luck asking Theseus or Lally."
She laughed loudly at this, shaking her head to herself. "I don't think that's necessary, but thank you. It is unfair though," She mused. "Why should only men be allowed to spit?"
"They didn't teach ladies how to spit in finishing school?" He asked in amusement.
"Of course not!" She paused, her shoulders drooping slightly at the mention. "To be honest, they don't really teach you anything interesting in those places - just social graces and how to find a husband."
"Sounds frightfully dull," Newt admitted, though his merriment was fading too at her change.
She gnawed on her lower lip, fidgeting with her hands slightly. "It was. I know Percival and Seraphina sent me there for my own good - they had to, it was what was expected - but I hated every second of it."
"Percival and Seraphina?"
"My guardians," She explained softly. "They were good friends of my parents, so when my mother and father died… We didn't have any other family, my sister and I, and we would have been forced onto the streets if not for Percival and Seraphina."
Newt's eyes were wide with surprise. "You have a sister?"
"Yes, Queenie. She's still at school," Tina replied, and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly as she talked about her younger sister. "She was so jealous that we were going to sail back to New York on the Titanic - I've promised her that once she's finished her schooling, I'll buy us both tickets for a journey to Cherbourg and back. Queenie would love all of this; the exquisite dinners, getting to meet new people, even just the views… she's a lot better at socialising than I am."
He thought about his own experiences talking to people, about how Theseus found it so easy to charm people while he stuttered and stumbled, and grimaced slightly. "I know the feeling."
"I'm sending Queenie telegrams every day, of course," She continued somewhat anxiously. "I do hope that the operators in the wireless room aren't completely swamped with messages to send out and receive - I'd hate for Queenie to think I haven't kept my promise."
"I'm sure she'll understand," Newt assured her gently. "From the sound of it, you two are quite close."
She smiled to herself, face alight as she turned to him. "Yes. Yes, we are."
"As for schools, I was never really very fond of them myself," He admitted. "I did go to school, though I left before my parents died; most of the teachers I had didn't like me, thought I was feeble-minded and simple."
"Why?" She questioned curiously.
He shrugged uncomfortably. "I wasn't very social, didn't have very many friends, and so they thought me strange - I far preferred sitting by myself and sketching or reading. I did things they thought were strange, like rocking from time to time or constantly rubbing at the material on my trousers when I was anxious. To add, I've always found eye contact… difficult. One of my teachers used to cane me when I refused to make eye contact with him, said it would set me straight eventually, but…" He rubbed his hands together in memory, though a smile was tugging on his mouth as he looked at Tina. "He must have not hit me hard enough because I still have problems most of the time with it."
She gave a laugh even though she looked concerned. "That's awful, Newt. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," He assured her. "It's in the past now - and besides, not all of my teachers were that cruel: my last teacher before I left school was called Mister Dumbledore, and he was rather nice. If we hadn't needed money so desperately then I'd have stayed in his classroom instead of leaving to find work - he never seemed to think me lame or slow even when all of the other children mocked me."
"He sounds wonderful," Tina told him genuinely. "I wish some of my teachers had been like that - to tell you the truth, they always berated me and said I wasn't 'ladylike' enough." At his look, she smirked to herself. "My teachers used to say that my handwriting was atrocious and illegible, and apparently I set the record for the most amount of teacups broken by a single student - I don't think they ever realised that most of the time it was on purpose."
Suddenly she blanched, looking at something behind him and straightening up immediately; seeing her expression, the man quickly turned around. Both of her guardians were watching them, accompanied by Molly Brown and the Countess of Rothes; Percival looked somewhat bemused, but Seraphina's expression was difficult to read.
"Seraphina. Percival." She cleared her throat, perfectly composed as she smiled. "May I introduce Newt Scamander?"
The group looked at Newt; he smiled awkwardly as Tina introduced him to all of them, though he didn't meet any of their gazes. His reddish-brown hair was rather mussed, blown about by the breeze as they had walked around the ship and the fringe curling wildly as it fell into his eyes; his shirt was somewhat wrinkled, having not been ironed for a long time, and he suddenly felt rather unkempt compared to the well-dressed and groomed first-class passengers in front of him.
"Charmed, I'm sure," Seraphina said coolly, her voice like ice.
"The others were gracious and curious about the man who'd saved my life. But I saw the way Seraphina looked at him - like an insect, a strange and potentially insect that was to be kept away from …"
Molly was grinning as Tina finished explaining a rather edited version of events from the evening before. "Well, Newt, it sounds like you're a good man to have around in a sticky spot." He smiled bashfully at her, quickly reaching up to try and push some hair away from his freckled face.
The sound of a loud bugle nearby made all of them jump; Percival gave a grumble, shaking his head to himself. "Ridiculous, absolutely ridiculous…"
"Why do they always insist on announcing dinner like a damn cavalry charge?" Molly huffed.
Tina gave a nervous laugh before moving towards the women and taking an arm from each of her guardians. "Shall we go dress, everyone?" As they went to leave with the Countess in tow, she quickly glanced over her shoulder at the British man. "See you at dinner, Newt."
As they walked away, Seraphina took another look at the younger woman and shook her head to herself. "Tina, look at you, out in the sun with no hat. Honestly…"
Newt watched them leave, trying to keep his eyes on Tina's retreating form until the very last second - he didn't even realise that Molly had stayed behind and was now eyeing him beadily. "Uh, son?" When this didn't work, she stepped in front of him and raised her voice. "Son!"
The young man quickly looked at her, somewhat sheepishly. "Yes, sorry."
"Do you have the slightest comprehension what you're doing?" She questioned knowingly.
"Umm… no," He admitted. "No, not really, I'm afraid."
"Well, you're about to go into the snakepit." Her eyes drifted over his body, taking in his outfit carefully before looking back to his face. "What are you planning to wear?"
The thought hadn't even occurred to Newt, and now he felt foolish; he only had one other plain shirt and his coat, both of which he knew weren't nearly as stylish or respectable as what a gentleman in first-class would wear. He looked down at himself and then back at her, giving a small shrug.
Molly gave a small scoff, though not unkindly, and gestured for him to take her arm so that she could lead him away. "I figured. Come on."
Less than an hour later, Newt found himself in Molly Brown's stateroom and struggling with a strange white piece of fabric that was supposedly a bowtie; men's suits, jackets and formal wear had been strewn all over the place, and the older woman seemed to be having the time of her life as she outfitted him. With the exception of the bowtie and a jacket, Newt was dressed in a surprisingly comfortable suit.
"Here," Molly said, somewhat amused, and she began to tie the bowtie herself. "Don't feel bad about it; my husband still can't tie one of these damn things after twenty years."
"Oh, I can tie them," He mumbled, feeling hot under the collar. "It's just… it's been a long time, that's all."
He didn't bother mentioning that he was feeling nervous too - he felt silly enough as it was, let alone confessing to this rather headstrong woman he'd only just met.
"There you go!" She straightened the bowtie before stepping back towards the bed; when she returned, she was holding a black jacket that she held out for him to slip into. As he shrugged it on, she gave a pleased grin. "I was right! You and my son are just about the same size!"
Newt examined himself in the mirror, stunned by the reflection; he barely even recognised himself in the suit, and he had to blink to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. "It's rather close, yes," He agreed, pulling at the jacket to straighten it out.
Molly was standing behind him, and she whistled as she looked into the mirror too. "You shine up like a new penny," She decided, and she laughed when he merely turned his gaze to her owlishly. "Alright, only one thing left - you ever used oil in your hair?"
"I can't say that I have."
She nodded, crossing to room to the boudoir and opening a drawer; within seconds, she was withdrawing a comb and a small pot that contained some kind of substance. "Come and sit down: the sooner we get this over with the better."
The sky outside was a deep purple shot with orange as the Titanic sailed west that night, the water remarkably calm; Newt allowed himself a moment to admire the view, wishing he could have brought his sketchbook with him for dinner just so he could have attempted to capture the sight, before taking a deep breath and making his way to entrance on deck that led to the first-class. While the suit Molly had loaned him fit well, he still felt dreadfully uncomfortable and hot in it, from the black jacket right down to the pearl stud buttons; somehow the older woman had managed to tame his hair into something vaguely smart, though it now meant that he could no longer hide his gaze underneath his fringe - a thought that caused him more stress than it perhaps should have.
A steward was waiting by the door that led to the landing of the grand staircase; at the sight of the young man, he bowed and smartly opened the door for him. "Good evening, sir."
Newt cast him a look before giving an awkward nod that could easily be confused for just the right degree of disdain. As soon as he stepped through the door and out onto the landing, he found his breath taken away by the sheer splendour spread out before him; overhead was an enormous glass dome with a crystal chandelier at its centre. The staircase itself swept down six stories, the very epitome of opulent naval architecture, and as he made his way down the steps to A-deck, he noticed that the people were just as extravagant looking: the women in their floor length dresses, elaborate hairstyles and abundant jewellery, whilst the men in evening dress identical to his own stood or walked with one hand at the small of their backs, talking quietly. Several of these men nodded a perfunctory greeting to him as he passed, none the wiser that he was not in fact one of their own, and he nodded back to each of them as politely as he could, feeling it best to keep it simple - in a strange way, he felt almost like a spy on a mission of some kind. On the landing just before the final set of steps was a great carved panel that contained a clock; on either side of the clock face was a beautiful female figure, the one on the left Honour and the other on the right Glory, in an allegorical tableaux where they appeared to be crowning the clock - Time, he thought to himself.
When he reached the bottom of the final set of steps, Newt looked around and wondered what he was supposed to do now; he couldn't see Tina or any of her party, and he leaned against a nearby pillar as he tried not to frown. A couple nearby passed him on their way to dinner, and he immediately straightened up again to return the polite nod the gentleman gave him; he noticed that nearly all of the men had a hand behind their backs even as they greeted each other or chatted, and so he found himself copying them as best as he could - he really didn't want to embarrass Tina tonight by doing something improperly, especially given that they had shared such a wonderful day already and the fact that he was here at her fiancé's invitation.
"...Do you know that there are several thousand tons of Tolliver steel in this very ship?"
Speaking of… Newt watched as Achilles Tolliver and Percival Graves came down the stairs with Seraphina between them, all of them dressed to the nines. He forced himself to smile, prepared to make a good impression even as part of him screamed to run away immediately.
"Oh?" Seraphina was listening half-heartedly. "Which part?"
"All the right ones, of course," Achilles bragged, swelling with pride.
Percival smiled tightly, his irritation thinly veiled. "Then we'll know who to hold accountable if there's a problem."
To Newt's surprise, Achilles gave him a nod, one gentleman to another, and then the two continued on without so much as a second glance - neither of them had recognised him in the slightest. As they made their way over to the Countess he had seen on the boat deck earlier that evening, however, he didn't have time to muse on this interaction because something far more interesting caught his attention immediately.
Standing at the top of the stairs was Tina; she was an absolute vision in a coral taffeta dress paired with a tiered wrap-around beaded overlay, the low-cut of the gown showing off her neck and shoulders. She was also wearing a pair of white elbow-length gloves, and as she walked down the steps he realised that the bun she had styled her hair in featured beads that matched her dress; along with the diamond necklace and earrings she was wearing, all of the beads, embroidery and embellishments made her seem to shimmer and shine as she slowly walked down the stairs. Newt couldn't take his eyes from her, certain his mouth had fallen open as he stared - he couldn't help himself: she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
Just as Tina reached the bottom two steps, the British man managed to compose himself somewhat and he imitated the same gentlemen's stance as he had before with a hand behind his back; to her surprise, he reached out and took one of her hands into his own, raising it to his lips. She flushed, beaming noticeably as she felt the faintest curve of his mouth through her glove, and found that she couldn't look away from him.
For a second neither of them said a word, frozen in the moment - and then he grinned sheepishly. "I saw Theseus do that with Lally once, and I always wanted to do it."
She laughed softly, accepting the arm that he then offered and descending the last few steps; they were both still smiling at each other in an oddly comforting and secretive way as they reached her guardians and fiancé. "Darling," Tina began, touching Achilles' arm. "Surely you remember Mister Scamander."
He looked at the gentleman on her arm and almost had to do a double take. "Scamander?" He was clearly caught off guard as he studied the man in front of him before chuckling. "I didn't recognise you. Well, it's amazing - you could almost pass for a gentleman!"
There was an awkward silence as this remark settled among them; Newt cleared his throat and looked down at his shoes, somewhat embarrassedly. "Yes. Almost."
"Extraordinary," Achilles muttered, shaking his head to himself in disbelief. "Anyway, shall we head down to dinner?"
As he began to lead the way, Seraphina paused and sent the younger man a somewhat apologetic look. "You look very well, Mister Scamander."
Judging by the way Tina's eyebrows raised, he supposed that this was among the highest of compliments to come from this woman, and so he decided to accept it graciously. "Thank you, ma'am," He said softly, giving her a small smile.
"It's our honour to have you join us tonight, Mister Scamander," Percival informed him sincerely. "What you did for Tina last night was incredible, and if it weren't for you…" He shook his head, frowning to himself at the thought. "Well, all I'll say is that we're very grateful." He eyed where Tina had linked her arm with the young man's, and the smallest of knowledgeable smirks tugged at his mouth as he took his wife's arm. "With all that in mind, I think it's only right you be her escort to dinner this evening, so that she can introduce you properly to everyone."
The party descended down to the D-deck reception room, at which point Achilles and her guardians began greeting other guests; Tina, still clutching Newt's arm, leaned in close and began to point out several of them.
"There's the Countess of Rothes," She explained, indicating the woman who had been with Percival and Seraphina that afternoon on deck and was now speaking to Captain Smith. "And, um… oh, that's John Jacob Astor - the richest man on the ship." She gestured to a man who was in his late forties and accompanied by a girl who couldn't have been any older than nineteen. "His little wifey there, Madeleine, is my age and in a delicate condition. See how she's trying to hide it? Quite the scandal."
Now that she had pointed out, it was obvious that the girl's dress was only barely hiding a developing baby bump; Newt looked away hurriedly, not wanting to be caught staring, but made a bemused noise as Tina continued.
"And that's Benjamin Guggenheim and his mistress, Madame Aubert. Mrs Guggenheim is at home with the children, of course," She said, referring to another couple across the room before pivoting him smoothly to show yet another couple, this time who were speaking to her guardians and fiancé. "And over there, that's Sir Cosmo and Lucille Lady Duff-Gordon. She designs naughty lingerie, among her many talents - very popular with the royals." As the woman in question looked over, Tina smiled politely and gave a small wave with her free hand; Newt was unable to stop the chuckle that escaped his mouth then.
Meanwhile, Achilles was accepting the praise of his male counterparts, all of whom were looking at Tina like a prize show horse. "Congratulations, Tolliver," Sir Cosmo said jovially. "She's splendid."
"Why, thank you," Achilles crowed, clearly pleased that this beautiful woman that belonged to him was receiving such praise.
Just then, Molly Brown appeared and immediately approached Newt and Tina; she was looking good in a beaded dress, in her own busty broad-shouldered way. "Care to escort a lady to dinner?" She asked, grinning at the young man.
"Certainly," He agreed, offering her the arm that wasn't linked with Tina's so that they could walk together.
Achilles, walking just in front of them with Seraphina and Percival, glanced over his shoulder at them. "Sweetpea, come!"
Tina's gracious smile disappeared at the nickname but she said nothing, instead holding onto Newt's arm even tighter; before he could muse on this, however, Molly was speaking to him in a low voice. "Ain't nothin' to it, is there, Newt? Remember, they love money, so just pretend like you own a gold mine, and you're in the club."
As they strolled through the ornate double doors of the dining room they were immediately greeted by the Astor couple, who were just finishing conversation with the Countess of Rothes and Captain Smith.
"Hey, Astor!"
The man looked over and grinned good-naturedly at the boisterous woman. "Well, hello, Molly. Nice to see you."
"J.J., Madeleine," Tina began. "I'd like you to meet Newt Scamander."
Madeleine offered her hand first, which he quickly reached out to shake as politely as possible. "How do you do?"
"Oh, the pleasure is mine," He said, managing a shy smile.
"Hello, Newt," Astor greeted, and they also shook hands as the older man looked inquisitive. "Scamander… A Greek name, correct? I met a fellow in Greece with that name: does your family hail from there, by any chance?"
Newt hesitated. "No, I don't believe so. We must be a Dorset branch of the tree."
The man nodded, though he looked somewhat puzzled; Madeleine, meanwhile, was appraising the young man and leaned in close to the other girl so that they wouldn't be overheard. "It's a pity we're both spoken for, isn't it?"
Tina smiled tightly, forcing away the sudden uncomfortable feeling in her stomach as they all began to make their way towards their table. Like a ballroom in a palace, the dining saloon was alive and lit by a multitude of chandeliers, filled with elegantly dressed people; nearby, beautiful music was being played by a small orchestra led by bandleader Wallace Hartley, who himself was on the violin. Newt was every inch the perfect gentleman as he allowed her to introduce him properly to many of the other first-class passengers, politely kissing the women's hands and talking to the other men as if he were one of them.
"He must have been nervous, but he never faltered. They assumed he was one of them, heir to a railroad fortune, perhaps. New money, obviously, but still a member of the club. Seraphina, of course, could always be counted upon."
"Tell us of the accommodations in steerage, Mister Scamander," Seraphina inquired, clearly trying to include him in the conversation. "I hear they're quite good on this ship."
Newt blinked, not sure if she was trying to insult him or not, before replying. "The best I've seen, ma'am - there's hardly been any rats."
The rest of the table laughed, somewhat uncertainly, at his joke; many of the people he'd been introduced to that evening were there, though he was disappointed not to have been seated next to Tina. It was a relief, however, that he was sat with Molly on his right - she had been terribly kind to him, after all, and having her there made him somewhat less nervous; on his other side was the Countess of Rothes, and opposite him was Tina, who was in turn flanked by Achilles and Thomas Andrews.
"Mr Scamander is joining us from the third-class," Achilles explained to everyone else, as if this was greatly amusing. "He was of some assistance to my fiancée last night."
As a waiter began to serve the table, Tina smiled at him before addressing the rest of the diners. "It turns out that Mr Scamander is quite a fine artist. He was kind enough to show me some of his work today."
"Tina and I differ somewhat in our definition of 'fine art'," Achilles drawled, serving himself some lemon to go with his foie gras before looking at the man in front of him somewhat derisively. "Not to impugn your work, sir."
Newt waved a hand to show he didn't mind; Tina cleared her throat then, motioning surreptitiously for him to take his napkin off of his plate just as the waiter came to him. He quickly laid the fabric across his lap, sitting up as straight as he possibly could and looking down at the table in front of him; to his surprise, there were at least eight pieces of cutlery laid out on either side of his plate, including five forks, two spoons, a knife, and something that looked like a cross between the latter two.
"Are these all for me?" He whispered to Molly furtively.
"Just start from the inside and work your way in," She advised knowingly, settling her own napkin on her lap.
Meanwhile, Bruce Ismay had started speaking about the ship to the rest of the table in a rather proud way. "She may be mine on paper, but in the eyes of God, she belongs to Thomas Andrews." He inclined his head to the man in question. "He knows every rivet in her, don't you, Thomas?"
"Your ship is a wonder, Mr Andrews," Tina complimented sincerely. "Truly."
Andrews gave her a small smile, clearly pleased by her comment despite himself. "Thank you, Tina."
"How do you take your caviar, sir?" The waiter asked Newt.
Before he could so much as open his mouth, Achilles was answering for him. "Just a soupcon of lemon." He smiled at the younger man like he was a small child. "It improves the flavour with champagne."
"Oh, actually, no caviar for me, thank you," Newt disagreed hurriedly before the waiter could dish it onto his plate. "I'm afraid I've never liked it much."
Tina lowered her head to hide the amused smile that threatened to show on her face; a few seats away, Percival was looking at the man in interest. "So, where exactly do you live, Mr Scamander?"
"Well, right now my address is the R.M.S. Titanic," Newt answered honestly. "After that, I suppose I'm on God's good humour."
"Oh? And how is it that you have the means to travel?" Seraphina asked, clearly curious.
"I work my way from place to place most of the time," He explained. "Usually on tramp steamers or similar. But I won my ticket on Titanic with a lucky hand at poker." He looked over at Tina, who was watching and listening intently, seeming to twinkle under the lights. "A very lucky hand."
Colonel Gracie was nodding enthusiastically in agreement, as if he understood completely. "All life is a game of luck!"
Achilles sipped at his champagne, and though he was smiling there was a tension behind it. "A real man makes his own luck, Archie. Right, Scamander?"
Newt gave a small jerk of the head, if only to be polite. "Hmmm."
"And you find that sort of rootless existence appealing, do you?" Seraphina questioned with a raised brow.
While Molly shot the other woman a withering glare, Newt hesitated before slowly beginning to nod. "Well, yes, ma'am, I do." He looked around at everyone seated at the table as he spoke, all of their attention on him. "I have everything I need right here with me: air in my lungs, and a few blank sheets of paper. It's a big world, and I want to see it all before I go. My father always talked about going to see the ocean - not just the sea by the coast, the actual ocean - but he died in the town he was born in and never did. In a way, I love waking up every morning not knowing what will happen or…" His eyes drifted to Tina, who was enraptured by his speech. "Or who I'm going to meet, where I will go. Just the other night, my brother and I were sleeping under a bridge, and now here I am on the grandest ship in the world sipping champagne with all of you." There was some scattered laughter at this, but they were all still intently focused on him as he lifted his glass and took a sip. "I believe that life is a gift, and I don't intend to waste it. You never know what hand you'll be dealt next, so you learn to take life as it comes at you… to make each day count."
"Well said, Newt," Molly agreed.
"Here, here," Colonel Gracie muttered enthusiastically.
Tina raised her glass in a salute, looking straight at the British man; when she spoke, her voice was strangely soft. "To making it count."
To Newt's surprise, everyone at the table did the same with their own drinks as they echoed, "To making it count!". With a grin, he did the same and took a sip of his champagne, unaware that across the table Achilles was looking irritated by how much everyone seemed to like him.
This was not what he had planned at all.
After dessert, as Molly finished regaling the table with an anecdote about her ex-husband, a waiter arrived with cigars in a humidor on a wheeled cart; Tina looked at Newt knowingly, speaking in a soft tone. "Next it'll be brandies in the smoking room…"
"Well, join me for a brandy, gentlemen?" Gracie prompted as he rose from his seat, and a chorus of voices agreed heartily.
"Now they retreat into a cloud of smoke and congratulate each other on being masters of the universe," She informed Newt in a low voice, and he looked down to hide the fact he was grinning.
Achilles came behind her chair, his valet standing nearby, and touched her shoulder. "Tina, may I escort you back to the cabin?"
She tried not to flinch at his touch, not meeting his eye. "No, I'll stay here."
Whilst everyone was distracted, Newt also stood from his chair and handed Molly a small pencil. "Here you go, Molly." She immediately took it from him, discreetly slipping it back into her purse before anyone else could notice.
"Joining us, Scamander?" Gracie asked cheerfully. "You don't want to stay out here with the women, do you?"
Actually, I do, Newt thought to himself, eyes drifting across the table to one woman in particular. "No thanks," He mumbled instead, quickly looking away. "I should probably head back."
Achilles came up to him, straightening out his dinner jacket and giving a nod. "Probably best. It'll be all business and politics, that sort of thing - wouldn't interest you." He smirked as he passed, brushing him slightly with his shoulder. "Good of you to come though."
Newt stared after him as he and Abernathy left, deflating somewhat; he was sure to hide his disappointment, however, as he turned back to the table and approached Tina's chair. She looked up at him imploringly. "Newt, must you go?"
He managed a rather bittersweet smile for her. "I'm afraid it's time for me to return to the rats - they'll be missing me terribly, I expect."
She gave a small laugh at his attempt at humour, though there was a sadness to it as he took her hand and leaned down to press a kiss to it; she was surprised when she felt something small pass from his hand to her own, though was careful not to show it. No one was any wiser as he let go and walked away across the enormous room, not even Seraphina, who watched him like a hawk as he left.
As soon as she was sure no one was watching, Tina looked at what he had given her and realised it was a folded up piece of paper; she surreptitiously opened it below the table level so that no one would see and read the note.
Make it count.
Meet me at the clock.
The A-deck foyer was nearly empty as Tina crossed it, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible; she saw Newt immediately, standing on the landing above. He had his back to her, studying the ornate clock with its carved figures of Honor and Glory; as the clock began to strike, she took a deep breath, picked up the skirt of her dress so that she wouldn't trip, and began to climb the sweeping staircase towards him.
Just as she reached the last few steps, he seemed to sense her presence and turned; he smiled at the sight of her, a sight that made butterflies flutter in her stomach, and looked at her enquiringly. "So… Do you want to go to a real party?"
The third-class general room was alive with music, laughter and raucous shouting; an ad hoc band was set up in the corner near an upright piano, honking out a lively stomping tune on fiddle, accordion and tambourine that sounded delightfully Irish in nature. The room was completely crowded with people of all ages as they drank, laughed, smoked, danced and even brawled; Theseus and Lally were perhaps the most enthusiastic as they cheerfully whirled around together, having had more than a few drinks each, though it was hard to tell as everyone seemed at least somewhat drunk or excited.
Tina found herself seated at a table, watching the party with equal parts awe and enjoyment; to her amusement, Newt had been whisked away almost immediately by little Modesty Barebone for a dance, and he was now attempting to dance with her in a rather awkward but endearing way while her brother looked on nearby with a grin. His hair, which had been so well-oiled that evening, was now falling over his face again, the fringe curling from the heat of the busy room and dancing; his dinner jacket was long discarded, and he had rolled up his white shirt sleeves so that they were around his elbows - to her surprise, his arms were quite well-toned and muscled from years of work.
Not that I'm thinking of his arms, of course…
The gentleman seated on her left suddenly said something to her, and she leaned forwards. "What?"
"Talar fröken Svenska?" He repeated.
Tina paused before shrugging apologetically. "I can't understand you!"
Tommy sat down on her other side, handing her a pint of stout; she nodded her thanks before taking a sip and turning back to watch Newt dancing. He was now twirling Modesty under his arm, clearly not having a clue what he was doing but doing it anyway to make her happy; the blonde little girl beamed up at him as they danced, and for a moment Tina was reminded of Queenie's bright blue eyes and blonde ringlets - the two girls were so similar and yet so different.
A glass shattering caught her attention momentarily, and she looked over in the direction of the noise, concerned; one man was helping another up, but instead of seeming overly worried or even angry, they were both chortling together and immediately ordering more beers. She couldn't help but laugh to herself, somewhat in disbelief; no one seemed to mind a bit that there was broken glass or people play-fighting - it was all seen as good fun. She couldn't imagine Percival and Achilles doing such a thing, and she didn't need to stretch her imagination to know what they might say if they saw this party, let alone her there.
As the tune ended and the band took a moment to organise themselves, Newt looked over at his brother; Theseus sent him a look, inclining his head to the woman sitting at the table, the meaning clear. He leaned down to Modesty and pointed to Tina. "I'm going to dance with her now, alright?" Modesty pouted a little even as she nodded; he straightened up and held out a hand to the woman in front of him. "Come on."
"... What?" Tina looked up at him in surprise as the band began to play again.
Newt moved closer, and she took his hand without even thinking about it. "Come on, just one dance." If only to keep Theseus off my back, he thought to himself.
"Oh, no, no, Newt, I can't…" She looked up at him anxiously as the tempo of the music increased. "I can't do this."
His eyes met hers, greenish-blue connecting with brown. "It's okay - we'll work it out together," He assured her. "We'll have to get a little bit closer though." He took her right hand in his left; his other hand slid to the small of her back and pulled her closer to himself.
It was like there was an electricity between them that neither of them could quite place - despite the awkwardness they both felt, it was undeniable that there was a spark between them. Suddenly it didn't matter that neither of them were good at dancing, or that they were surrounded by so many people: most of the other passengers were, admittedly, drunk and not caring either way about two strangers dancing, but it was clear that something else was at play here that neither of them wanted to admit.
Newt noticed that Modesty was still pouting as she watched them grow closer, and he sent her a small grin. "You're still my best girl, Modesty, don't worry."
She smiled in relief before scampering off to find her brother; Tina raised a brow at him. "Your best girl?"
"She called herself that," He admitted, cheeks flushing. "I just don't want to hurt her feelings."
She huffed out a laugh, but she was trembling somewhat. "I don't know the steps."
"I don't think there are actual steps," Newt mused. "I don't know any steps either - I think we're supposed to just go along with it and not think."
Before either of them could think too much about it, they were starting to move; it was awkward, neither of them fully comfortable with dancing, but before too long they both started to grow accustomed to the rhythm of the steps. It was, admittedly, rather basic and little more than the most simple of jigs around the room to an upbeat tempo, but all the same they grew more comfortable as they settled into it. She gave a nervous laugh as they narrowly avoided colliding with another couple, clutching onto his shoulder for support as she threatened to fall in her heels; he grinned at her, hand firm on her back and starting to lead a little more as his confidence grew.
"Wait, wait, wait! Hold on!" Tina shouted over the music; he stopped, suddenly concerned that he'd done something to offend her - but she merely beamed as she bent down and pulled off her high heeled shoes, throwing them to where Tommy was standing nearby. As the Irishman looked at them in his hands, confused, she gave a delighted laugh and grabbed Newt so that they could plunge back into the fray.
The room was rowdy and rollicking; a table somewhere was knocked over as a drunk crashed into it, though no one paid any attention. Newt and Tina danced faster and faster, keeping in time with the band and both of them shining with sweat from the effort; people around them were watching as they took each other's hands and began to whirl around together in circles, everyone clapping to the beat of the music and cheering them on. Tina couldn't stop the peals of giggles that slipped from her mouth as she looked at Newt, who was gazing back at her and laughing along with her.
As the tune ended with a mad rush, she couldn't help but think that despite it being a third-class party, despite it being crowded and raucous, this was by far the most fun she'd ever had in her entire life.
When they made their way over to the table where Tommy was sitting, they were both extremely hot and sweaty from their dance together; seeing that the Irishman was engaged in some kind of arm wrestle with another man, Newt looked at the two full pint glasses left to the side and reached for them immediately, easily lifting them up without so much as a complaint.
"Here," He called over the noise to Tina, handing her one of the glasses. "I don't think these two need to drink anymore tonight."
As he took a gulpful, trying not to grimace at the bitter taste, he noticed Tina chugging from her own glass; he stared as she continued to gulp the liquid down thirstily, stopping only when she realised he was watching her. "What?" She prompted once she'd swallowed her mouthful, raising a brow. "You think a first-class girl can't drink?"
Before he could respond, one of the other passengers drunkenly stumbled and crashed straight into Newt; the beer from his glass sloshed over the rim and straight onto Tina's dress. She let out a gasp of shock, and he hurriedly put his glass back down on the table so that he could look at the damage done to her outfit properly. "Are you alright, Tina? I'm so sorry…"
But she was laughing, not caring one bit. "Me? I'm fine!"
Tommy and the man he'd been arm wrestling with were now shouting at each other, all piss and vinegar with their chests puffed up, revving to go again. Before they could, however, Tina was moving between them and smirking in an almost cocky way.
"So," She began, putting her drink down and taking the cigarette straight from Tommy's mouth. "You think you're big tough men?" As they gaped at her, she took a big drag of the cigarette before settling it between her fingers. "Let's see you do this. Newt, can you help me hold this up?"
He was taken aback, though he took the handful of her skirt that she offered him and lifted it as requested so that her stocking-clad feet were visible; everyone watched as she straightened herself before assuming a ballet stance, arms slowly beginning to raise above her head. She lifted herself gradually until she was balancing her entire weight on the very tips of her big toes on either foot; she held the position for several seconds, all of her muscles controlled even as her face screwed up in pain.
Suddenly she fell forwards, losing her balance and letting out a moan of pain; Newt hurried to catch her so that she didn't hit the floor, eyes still wide. As the other passengers who'd been watching murmured to themselves, equal parts impressed and shocked, he looked down at her inquiringly. "Are you alright, Tina?"
"I haven't done that in years!" She exclaimed, looking up at him and beaming widely. "I didn't even know if I still could!"
As the two laughed together, her still in his arms, neither of them noticed that the door to the well deck nearby was open a few inches - or that Abernathy was watching them closely, a deep and unpleasant frown etched on his face.
Out on the boat deck, the stars blazed overhead - it was so bright and clear that many constellations could be seen by anyone who happened to be looking at the sky. Not very many passengers were out at this time of night, of course, and with the exception of the crew it was quite empty as Newt and Tina walked along a row of lifeboats; it was rather chilly up on deck, and so he had immediately offered her his dinner jacket, which was now draped around her shoulders. Both were still giddy from the party, and as they strolled the British man was trying to teach her a song his mother had once sung to him as a child - of course, given how exhilarated they both were after the party and the alcohol they'd drunk, they soon found themselves fumbling the words and breaking down laughing.
Before too long, they reached the first-class entrance; Tina's joy immediately disappeared when she saw it, and instead of going straight in she turned to look at Newt. After a moment, she smiled somewhat half-heartedly and pulled the jacket off of her shoulders to hand back to him. "So… here we are."
Newt took the garment from her, unable to take his eyes from her face. "Oh. Right."
"I don't want to go back," She admitted softly; he didn't say anything, but she could tell from his facial expression that he felt the same way. After a moment, she stepped towards one of the davits and tilted her head up towards the sky, staring at the cosmos above them. "Look… it's so beautiful."
He looked up too and smiled. "Yes, it is."
"It's so vast and endless," She continued, moving now to the rail and leaning on it. "They're so small… My crowd, they think they're giants - they're not even dust in God's eye."
Newt leaned on the rail next to her, his hand only just touching hers - the slightest contact imaginable, and yet it was all either of them could feel. "You know, Tina, I think there's been a mistake." At her confused look, he merely smiled even wider. "You're not one of them - as my father would have put it, you must have been sent to the wrong address."
Tina laughed loudly at this, looking back out at the sky. "I was, wasn't I? Oh, look!" She pointed suddenly at something in the distance. "A shooting star!"
"That was a long one," He noted, and his eyes were shining at the sight. "My father used to say that every time you saw one, it was a soul going to heaven."
"Huh. I like that," She decided with a nod. "Aren't we supposed to wish on it?"
Newt looked at her and they both realised that they were suddenly even closer together - it would be all too easy for one of them to move another couple of inches, to press their lips together. "Why?" He asked hoarsely, feeling extremely hot all of a sudden. "What would you wish for?"
Tina's eyes flitted over his face, to his eyes then to his mouth and back again, and she bit her lower lip before speaking. "Something I can't have." She smiled sadly as she stepped away, placing her left hand on his shoulder as she passed; her engagement ring shone back at her, and it was all she could do not to run through to the first-class entrance. "Goodnight, Newt. And thank you."
Newt watched her as she hurried away, trying to think of something to say that would convey everything he currently felt - but the door banged shut behind her before he could, and she was gone.
Back to her world.
AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!
Okay, so just to clarify some things related to this chapter (because I didn't want to spoil it above - I'll be brief): the first scene in the third class general room is actually a deleted scene from the movie, as is one of the parts in the middle where Tina discusses her dreams, and the last scene with the shooting star. There were many moments that had to be slightly altered, changed or left out altogether when writing this chapter because I wanted to try and keep the characters (Newtina especially) in character, but there were also certain lines and moments I just really wanted to include. Of course I've also added things to fit the story, to explore the characters more, etc.
I'll be honest, I struggled with the third-class party scene (or at least the dancing parts lol), but the conversations between Newt and Tina came the most naturally. Someone on instagram last year pointed out that the scene in the Titanic movie where she's like "this is MY part of the ship, you leave!" kind of reminded them of Newt and Tina bantering, so now I can't get it out of my head. Plus the "Mister Scamander!" stuff also added to it XD
I debated greatly as to whether Newt would in fact have sketches of nude women, but I justified it to myself with the idea that he drew them merely from an artistic point-of-view, as anatomy study or the like. Also we need to establish that he's in fact drawn nudes before because of... you know... that scene... And I HAD to include the one-legged prostitute line. I HAD to, it's WAY too funny to be left out (fun fact: in the film if you pause at the right split second before he turns the page over, you can in fact see the drawing of said woman)
I won't lie, I got a little emotional just over the note: about a month or so ago, I got the note that Jack gives Rose tattooed on my arm ("Make it count. Meet me at the clock.") and so writing it into this fic was a huge "oh my god" moment for me. Silly, I know, but the film means a lot to me and writing the words that are tattooed on my body into this fic was just... wow.
Anyway, I don't want to bore everyone with too much detail about my writing process, but I just want to thank everyone who's either left a kudos or a comment or even just read the damn thing - this is truly a labour of love, and I'm just happy to share it with anyone interested.
As always, comments and reviews are greatly appreciated, even if it's just keyboard smashing! (I personally love a good keyboard smash in the comments!)