Chapter XI: Burn the Ice

A/N: Here we go again! Another fun chapter to share with you all. Italics are thoughts or telegrams. Thanks go out to The Cowgirl Bookworm! SSD

Mina felt Albert watching her again. Her brother had been giving her speculative looks ever since he and Antin had gotten back from the first day of the inquiry. Every time she had tried to catch his eye, he'd changed the subject.

"If you have something to say Albert, just spit it out," she said as she started to butter her toast.

"I saw an… old friend of yours at the inquiry yesterday. You neglected to mention that Arthur Rostron was the captain of the Carpathia," Albert said all in one breath.

"I fail to see the relevance brother," she replied archly.

"Did you two get a chance to speak to each other at all," her older brother inquired.

"Only twice. Once when he offered the stateroom to help keep Cecily out of everyone's eye after news of the murder spread and the second time was on the evening of the 17th after Cecily had gone to bed when I took a stroll out on the deck," she replied in a warning tone, hoping her brother would take the hint.

He did not. Albert kept on fishing with, "I imagine you two had more time to talk on the 17th. What did you share with him? It's been a long time since you two spoke to one another."

"I told him that Wyndam had gotten himself killed with his own foolishness. And what the boys were up to now," Mina was now working on her breakfast completely.

"All of them?"

"Yes, all of them," she replied with narrowing eyes.

"Didn't he know about Randall," Albert queried, confused.

Definitely not, Mina thought before saying aloud, "Wyndam hated Arthur being around almost as much as he hated you being around. You two were the only ones that did not put up with how he treated me, besides myself. The boys were too young to do anything about it. I am reasonably certain that if one of you had killed him, the other would have helped hide the body or at least helped make the death look accidental or look in self-defense," Mina drawled.

Tearing her attention away from her breakfast, she looked to her pile of mail. On the top of it was a telegram.

Heard of sinking. On my way. School arranged it as it was an emergency. Have coursework with me. Should be there by 21st early morning. Randall.

After Mina handed the telegram to Albert he read it with a smile, "Now I guess you're really glad the Carpathia left. Ow!"

Sometimes Mina had to give her brother a good swat to remind him of a few things!

Roland hoped that whenever the inquiry moved to Washington that someone from the Bureau of Ships would be sent over to help Senator Smith word his questions.

Especially when it came to the sailing questions.

Thank God I'm in Naval Intelligence. They would want someone higher ranking and with better connections than me anyway!

Unlike the day before, Cecily and Lucy were there, sitting near the officers from the Florida. It had been more than amusing to see Erik's goggling reaction to Lucy's presence.

If they were not in the middle of the Waldorf Astoria, Roland was certain that Erik would have kissed her in a manner that would have set the cameras flashing.

Which would get some of the heat off of Cecily and the other murder witnesses. On top of being one of those, First Officer Murdoch had been the officer of the watch at the time of the collision with the iceberg, which was going to catch him even more hell on top of what he was going to get for witnessing the murder.

During the lunch break, Roland heard an only too familiar voice, one he could have lived the rest of his life without hearing again.

"Are you entirely certain you saw Patrick Hearst pull the trigger, Mr. Murdoch?" Now he could clearly see Paul Thorton talking to the officers.

"We were the only ones with weapons on the deck and I checked my revolver to make sure I had not fired it, I'm pretty damn certain," Murdoch growled.

"Perhaps Master at Arms Turner covered for you? You had plenty of time to come up with a story," Thornton drawled.

Time for me to enter the conversation "Thornton, have you ever heard a Webley being fired? It's a hell of a lot louder than that popgun your boss's nephew bought. If the First Officer had fired his revolver, everyone on deck would have known it. Anyway he's not the type to lie, unlike some people I could mention," Roland said from behind the reporter.

The dark blond haired reporter turned around with a smile that did not reach his eyes. "Lieutenant Lethbridge. I did not know you would be here. I thought you'd be stuck in Washington." The scars on his face were white against his tanned skin.

"And was hoping you would be rotting at the bottom of a canyon, but alas we can't have everything we want," Roland answered in a similar false polite manner.

To the officers he said, "This is Paul Thornton of the New York Journal. I strongly urge all of you to avoid him. Especially you Lieutenant Murdoch. He works for Patrick Hearst's uncle."

There were flickers of recognition in both Harry's and Murdoch's eyes when he introduced him. While Cecily might have mentioned Paul to Harry, Murdoch had no reason to know. Besides, she had threatened Patrick Hearst in Spanish.

"My last name is Thornton you know. With a Th. You and your sister always had trouble with that. Speaking of her, where is Cecily? I have not seen her in such a long time." Roland did not like the gleam in the other man's eyes.

"You won't be. Not as long as I'm here," he snarled. Out of the corner of his eye, Roland saw Murdoch edging towards Harry looking at his friend like he might explode.

"You sure about that? It looks like she's coming up the way right now," Thornton said in a self-satisfied tone.

Roland spun around. Sure enough, Cecily was striding towards them, green eyes blazing.

"The Ice Queen graces us with her presence. I've heard you're melting though. Who's managing that and risking frostbite to his balls," Thornton drawled.

His sister did not even blink at Thornton's language before replying, "You and your boss would be the last to know, jackass."

Roland heard one of the officers snort in amusement, but could not be sure which one it was, since he was not facing them at the moment.

"Perhaps you would like to share your experiences during the sinking? And how did you get onto that lifeboat? A promise of exchange of services with First Officer Murdoch," Thornton sneered.

Roland barely kept a lid on his white hot rage. He did however run his hand along the holster to his service pistol. And made sure Thornton saw him doing it.

Harry on the other hand, was barely being restrained by Second Officer Lightoller, while First Officer Murdoch said in an enviably calm voice despite just having been accused of infidelity, "He's not worth the breath in his lungs Mr. Lowe. It won't help anyone if you beat a reporter to a pulp." His blue eyes flashing being the only sign of his anger.

Cecily spoke again in a hiss, "Listen here you fucking asshole, no one here wants to speak to you, or ever will. Do you want to explain to your fiancée in Boston how you now have matching scars on your face?"

Paul's face was now a mottled red and white as he started to pale. But Cecily was not done yet.

"As an answer to your implied question you would know far more about that sort of thing than I would. That's what you got your whores to do. Probably shriveled up what little you had," Cecily mocked.

"You used to be interested in what I had, still got it. Unless your tastes have started to run… low class," Paul flicked a glance towards the Titanic's officers.

Roland started towards him, cracking his knuckles, but Cecily stopped him voice icy, "Never in a million years was I ever interested in you. Some men don't understand that no means no. I'm in far better company now, they respect a lady's choice. Now scuttle back to your boss. I've heard he doesn't tolerate failure well."

Once Thornton stormed off, Roland noticed Cecily's shaking body. Confronting Paul Thornton had not been on her list of things to do today. She was completely ashen, her eyes unfocused.

"Cecily, you aren't there. You aren't in Denver. You are not at that party 10 years ago," Roland tried to soothe her.

Once he had gotten Cecily refocused on him in the here and now, it was clear that she was not going to get through the afternoon session.

"Cecily, will you be alright while I go get Lucy, and Max to bring you back to the Navy Yard?" she nodded.

Roland was uncertain of how much Harry knew of the situation with Paul Thornton, but he was now certain of one thing: he likely had a good idea what had nearly happened.

The Inquiry was moving from New York and would begin again in Washington DC on the 22nd at 10:30 AM.

Harry had not seen the reporter who had been bothering Murdoch before he was revealed to be Paul Thornton by Roland during the afternoon.

Upon Cecily's arrival to speak to her brother, it had rapidly become apparent to him and the other officers what the reporter had likely tried to do to Cecily when they were younger.

Roland had looked ready to commit murder for the things Thornton had said to Cecily, especially the last one. And he would have helped him hide the body wherever Roland wanted to.

It had taken Lights holding onto him and Will's reminding him that beating a reporter to smithereens was not going to help any of them.

He was hoping that Cecily would still want to spend time with him. Harry hoped that she'd recovered from her earlier. Cecily's responses to nosy reporters earlier had been dirty looks, and if they had been particularly persistent, curses. Clearly, Paul Thornton was a menace to society at large. It surprised him that the man still drew breath.

The fact that Cecily was even letting him near her, much less kiss and caress her was a show of trust that humbled him.

Just as Harry was about to knock on the door to where Cecily was staying, she nearly burst out of the room, eyes wild.

When she saw him, her eyes calmed, she said, "Thank God it's you. My father threatened to kill Thornton again, even though everyone and their mother would know he was behind it!"

"I do hope you do not get caught up in another murder trial," he answered.

"Roland and Antin talked him down. Said it wouldn't help things right now. At the moment, I just want to do something ordinary," Cecily was putting on what looked like a new green longcoat.

Don't think about that right now! Comfort is what she needs right now. And not that kind of comforting!

Green was clearly a color that suited her. This coat was much better tailored to her than the one Roland had gotten her.

Finding his words, Harry suggested, "Why don't we go for a walk, that's pretty ordinary I should think?"

When he offered his arm, there was not a moment's hesitation from Cecily when she hooked her arm around his.

They walked in silence for some time before he inquired, "Are you feeling better than you were earlier?"

She flashed a small smile, "Definitely better now that I'm with you."

Heat climbed up his neck as he replied, "I was unaware that I possessed such powers of healing."

Looking up at him through her eyelashes, "Oh yes. You're quite powerful. I did not have to be in your presence for before I felt better."

If Harry were with any other woman, he would be certain that she was flirting with him. With Cecily it was hard to tell.

Why is Cecily acting like this? She was just reminded of a clearly horrible event in her life and here she is flirting with me?

He stopped walking turned towards her saying, "Cecily, I do not want you to feel like you have to pretend there's nothing wrong. I don't care if you are still upset by what that… despicable reporter said to you. If you just want this to be a quiet walk, I'd be good with that. I would prefer if you were honest about how you were feeling."

"I'm not pretending. Being around you does make me feel better. Both Roland and my father are acting like lunatics or near enough to them on the matter. Antin isn't much better, you are being normal," Cecily pled.

Both pleased that he was truly making her feel better and embarrassed that he'd called her out so baldly Harry pulled Cecily by the waist into his side. Humming in pleasure, she burrowed right into him.

He thought he heard her mumble, "So nice to walk with. You're like a furnace."

"If you're cold, I could give you my coat," he offered. Perhaps that fetching green longcoat was more ornamental than it looked?

"No, I'm fine. This… Is perfect." Cecily snuggled in as he held her tighter, her smile turning impish.

Her smile was not as blazing as her friend Lucy's, but it was hers all the same. It made Harry want to kiss her.

Almost as if she had read his mind, he felt her wrap her fingers around his tie as if it belonged to her. Harry could not help but grin as he pressed his lips to hers, his hands slipping to her waist as Cecily's went to his shoulders, though she had to stand on her toes for that.

He dimly realized that they were in near broad view of anyone, but Harry could not bring himself to give a damn, not when Cecily's fingers were on his neck, playing with the hairs there. Cecily was so soft and warm as she wriggled against him.

Deciding to a new level of fun to their fun Harry brushed his tongue over her lips, not sure what she would do next. She made a startled noise but opened her mouth and joined in. He groaned into the kiss, pulling her even tighter against him. Grateful that Cecily was so much smaller than him, it made it easier for him to lift and pin her against the nearby wall. She was soon pulling him back towards her and her tongue was back in his mouth, dueling with his. A sloppy kiss for sure, with teeth clacking against the other's; it did not distract them from each other in the slightest.

All good things had to come to an end when he heard, "Afternoon, don't mind me."

Cecily disengaged from his mouth, to hiss, "Erik, not a damn work to Roland!"

The dark haired American naval officer just smirked before saying, "Don't worry. He won't hear a thing about it from me. It'll be funnier when he figures it out on his own!"

Erik looked him and Cecily over suggesting, "You're Harold Lowe right? Your First Officer is hunting around for you and wasn't too far behind me. Why don't you put Cecily down and give a moment or two to straighten her coat so he doesn't have anything to say to Roland?"

An all too familiar voice with a Scottish bur said, "It a little bit late for that!"

Faster than he thought possible, he had Cecily down off the wall, and both their coat straightened before turning to face First Officer Murdoch.

Cecily snarled, sarcasm clear in her voice, "Lieutenant, do I have to attach a sodding bell to you so I know when you are coming?"

"Your brother is looking for you Miss Lethbridge. I had a hunch that wherever you were, Mr. Lowe would likely be nearby," Murdoch replied ignoring Cecily's ire before continuing, "I doubt severely he would have been amused to have found you like this. Come along now."

Harry thought he heard him say, "Grasping his shoulders too bloody tight!"

Contrary to their likely opinion, Will had not gone looking to interrupt them for what was likely the second time. Not that he could prove what had been going on in the early morning hours of the 14th, though given what he had just seen, he was likely correct in his suspicions.

After dropping Miss Lethbridge off with her brother, and seeing the gift of a pistol that he'd gotten her for her birthday which Lieutenant Lethbridge had promised that had been bought over a month ago.

Thank God I didn't have to deal with her having that Smith and Wesson!

Will found it almost hard to believe that he had been in the US long enough to get mail. However what he had been looking forward to the most was the yellow telegram on the top of the pile.

Tearing open the telegram it said:

Will,

I'm so glad you're alright. I miss you. So does Rigel. I'll be happy when you return to England.

Love, Ada

Will winced as he read the part about him returning to England. Only a few hours ago, he and Turner had been informed that they would not be able to leave the US until the murder trial was over. And God alone knew when that would be!

That was not a telegram or more likely a letter he was looking forward to writing. Even worse, asking Ada to come over to visit was entirely out of the question, with Patrick Hearst's uncle being willing to resort to violence against a person's family to get them to change their story.

Will knew that convincing his wife to stay in England would take several miracles. A letter would be better than a telegram, since he could explain things far more easily. But how could he be assured of it getting to her unread by unfriendly eyes?

"Sir, there's someone here that says he works for the Lethbridge's. He'd like to talk to the both of us." It was Turner.

"Just a moment Mr. Turner. I was going through my mail," Will called out.

"News from home," the master at arms asked.

"Yes, though I am not looking forward to telling her I don't know when I'll be home or that her visiting me is out of the question," he replied.

"Your wife visiting isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility, Mr. Murdoch. As long as the needed precautions are taking," an unfamiliar voice cut through the room.

Only then the Will notice a man with blond hair in a well made suit had entered the room. He had not made a sound.

"And who might you be?"

"Antin McLewis. I am in charge of security for the Lethbridge's. Since the two of you are in the same situation that Cecily is, I planned on offering the two of you protection with the private security they have. Already tracked down Fabrizio, he said yes pretty quick."

"I'd be a damn fool to say no to any kind of protection. Lieutenant Lethbridge mentioned to me on board the Carpathia that the murderer's uncle has a habit of not just going after witnesses but after their families," Will answered.

"I've heard the stories about William Randolph Hearst. If even half those stories are true, any kind of help at all would be appreciated," Turner remarked.

"Do you two and the rest of the officers have any kind of civilian attire," Mr. McLewis asked. Will got the feeling that the man had been some kind of soldier at one point in his life. It was in the way he held himself and in how he spoke.

"Just some donated clothes. They do not fit very well," Will said before continuing, "Michael here has had next to no luck outside of what the Navy and Marines have given him."

"Well, we can't do too much about it today or tomorrow. I can get the measurements from the Quartermasters here, then we can get you all some decent civvies during the week," the other man was clearly already planning as he went.

"That… would be excellent," Will replied whilst casting a glance at Turner who nodded.

"Has that idiot Senator from Michigan said anything about transportation for you all down to Washington," McLewis asked.

"Just that we're getting a train ride, sir," Turner replied.

"No need to call me sir. I was a first sergeant in the Army. I worked for a living. I can't speak for the main body to the main body of the crew, but I believe that Mr. Lethbridge is interested in providing transport for the officers, Mr. Turner, and Mr. Ferretti, in his rail car," Antin finished.

As he left, he said, "Oh and before I forget, could you tell your Fifth Officer that Mr. Lethbridge is looking forward to seeing him again?"

Turner gave him a sidelong glance said jested, "There no possible way you can tell him that and he won't be terrified!"

Fabrizio more than appreciated the relative calmness of the past two days. Some of the Marines from the Florida had given him some clean spare work clothes to change into after he'd gotten cleaned up. And the Quartermasters had given him some extra sets.

Nothing beyond the basics, but he was better off than he was two days ago. These clothes were certainly better fitting than the donated clothes that the bulk of the Titanic's crew were wearing.

It had gotten him some dirty looks. Most of the crew was giving him a wide berth, likely due to threats from Master at Arms Turner, and not bothering him at all.

There was only one that seemed to have the urge to cause him trouble: Quartermaster Hichens. If one believed the flying rumors, he was the one who had been at the wheel at the time of the collision.

He was walking past a mess hall when out of nowhere, a fist connected to his gut, knocking the air from his lungs and sending him to his knees.

"I'm tired of a street rat from steerage getting preferential treatment. What's so bloody special about you? We all saw people die that night, don't see the rest of us buddying up to the Yank Navy, trying to get special attention." It was Hichens alright.

Fabrizio slowly got to his feet. He had taken harder hits than this. The punch to the gut was a cheap shot.

The Englishman took another swing at him, which was easily dodged. He had been in more than a few fights and was more than willing to fight dirty.

And clearly Hichens was not expecting Fabrizio handle himself as well as he could. And this was making him angry. And an angry fighter made stupid mistakes.

He swept his legs out from under him and began pummeling every inch of the man he could reach. Hichens got some weak hits in, but nothing damaging.

Too soon, they were pulled apart. Some of the marines from the Florida grabbed him and some of the sailors from the Titanic halfheartedly grabbed Hichens.

"What in the hell happened here," a senior enlisted man roared out.

"Mr. Ferretti was attacked. He defended himself. He turned out to be a far better fighter than his attacker expected him to be," a witness piped up.

"I think Mr. Hichens could do with some time in the brig before he leaves tomorrow," a guard said as the sailor was hauled away, "Let his officers and his chief know of his predicament."

"That wasn't too bad of fighting you did there kid," the senior enlisted man from earlier complimented before asking, "What are you planning on doing when this is all over?"

"Not particularly sure yet. I'm still getting my head around the fact that I'm alive," Fabrizio replied.

"With some training, you wouldn't make too bad a Marine. When the Florida gets to DC, look me up. I'm Gunnery Sergeant Hannah." At that, the older man entered the mess hall.

"It's a very high compliment for Gunny Hannah to say you have potential in hand to hand combat. He's a Fleet light heavyweight champion. Did you get to eat yet," an officer who'd come to the fight late inquired. There was something about him that looked familiar.

"No. He jumped me before I could get in," Fabrizio replied before asking, "Do you think Hichens was drunk?"

"Maybe he'd have fought better if he was," the officer drawled. "By the way, we'll likely be seeing more of each other. Lieutenant Roland Lethbridge, Cecily's older brother."

Hichens is a special level of idiot. First he tries to skip town, then he starts a fight. At least Fabrizio kicked his arse to hell and back. Hichens wasn't expecting that!

Now that he was done chewing the quartermaster in the brig, Michael considered his options of what to do next.

He saw Fabrizio heading off with some of the 40 Thieves (how they got that name he did not know and hadn't asked yet). He called out, "Where are you heading off to?"

"Saint Patrick's Cathedral. I wanted to got lights some candles and give thanks for surviving," the younger man replied.

"I should probably do that myself. Do you mind if I join you?"

He could tell that his request shocked Fabrizio who barely got out, "You- You're Catholic?"

"What? Do you think all of us are Protestant heathens," Michael guffawed.

It was not too long of a cab ride to the cathedral. He had the nasty feeling that he was being watched by unfriendly eyes shortly before striding inside.

There was no shortage of white marble, likely Italian.

"So… Any saint in particular you planning on giving thanks to," he asked.

"Saint Christopher. He certainly worked overtime on me. I hope he isn't offended by my taking so long," Fabrizio muttered.

"I'm sure he will understand. We've all had a lot on our plates. You go do what you need to do. I'm going to have a chat with Saint Michael," Turner replied.

Being in a church had always brought him some peace of mind. It helped Michael think. This cathedral was particularly beautiful. He wished that he could spend more time in it.

Thank you for helping me out there. Things got hairy. Could you look after my son while I'm stuck here? There are far worse places to be stuck and I've been in a few of those places. This trial is going to be hell to deal with. I just want to get through this alive and in one piece. Could you also keep an eye on the First Officer? I know he's Presbyterian and all, but he's under a lot of stress and pressure.

He turned to look for Fabrizio, who was still praying at the Saint Christopher statue. The kid had gotten off the Titanic with nothing but the clothes on his back and a Saint Christopher medal around his neck. He had no family on American shores, outside of some cousins belonging to a criminal element that Fabrizio had promised his mother he would not contact under any circumstances.

The young Sicilian seemed to be handling the whole murder situation a little too well. Maybe on the train ride tomorrow, he would ask him why.

Cecily Lethbridge had only improved in the past 10 years. The last time Paul had seen her, he had been 18 and trying to court her. And unlike most of the other girls in Denver, she had been completely uninterested in him.

Over the course of the spring and summer of 1902, he had tried everything to impress her: Flattery. Poetry. Gifts. Nothing from him seemed to get her attention. Time and again, she told him she was not interested.

One of his uncles on his mother's side told him that even when women said they were not interested, they really were.

And then that blasted brother of hers had come by to tell him to stay away from her, and he had always been scary as hell, but in that Annapolis uniform he was even more intimidating. He knew that the older boy had won his fair share of fights but to be on the wrong end of his wrath was not something Paul had counted on dealing with. He didn't let it bother him though. This was just another overprotective brother who should be grateful someone was bothering with his frigid sister.

He had laid low for the rest of the summer. The brother had returned to Annapolis, the leaves started to change color and the weather got colder.

It had been some party. Paul couldn't even remember who had thrown it. Cecily had been wearing a gorgeous red dress that everyone in the room had noticed.

For most of the night, he could not get anywhere near her. Her father and his damn security detail were paying far too close of attention.

But his patience was soon rewarded. He found her alone on a balcony taking in the crisp fall air.

Everything happened so fast. He'd grabbed her from behind to force her somewhere else, Cecily screeched and his face erupted in pain. The bitch had a knife on her?

She'd bolted away and he'd given chase despite the blood dripping from his face. All hell soon broke when the head of her father's security detail found them. Cecily babbled what had happened and another member of the team melted in from the shadows. That one hurried her off, likely to her father.

"I would very much like to kill you right now. But seeing as we're in a public place, I'd like to see how everyone here deals with your actions," Antin McLewis said in a voice that would freeze fire.

The fallout had been enormous. For him anyway. The Lethbridge's were not a part of the Sacred 40, but they were still popular in Denver. Which meant that more people believed them than his family. Even his older brother David believed them over him.

His mother however was able to quash the charges against him, and ship him out East to Boston to stay with her family. Who started no shortage of foul stories against Cecily.

If she hadn't been so frigid, I wouldn't have these scars! He thought from his desk at the New York Journal.

Paul could hear his boss shouting at one of the people he had following the witnesses to the murder.

"Why didn't you go after them!"

"They went into Saint Patrick's! If I did anything to them there, cops would have been on me faster than I could have gotten out of there!"

Tuning out the shouting, Paul thought back to earlier. When Mr. Hearst had visited Patrick, one of the things his nephew had revealed was that the Ice Queen was melting and that one of the Titanic's junior officers was the one managing it. Some had thought Cecily was a Sapphic over the years, Paul knew that to be nonsense.

So when he had been at the inquiry today, he had said some off color things to which of the officers reacted the most. And Paul had hit a vein of pure gold.

None of them were amused with him, and getting near them again would be difficult after Roland's warning them off, it was 5th Officer Harold Lowe who had started towards him, rage clear in his eyes. For a moment, Paul was back in Denver, with Roland coming towards him. But the officer had been quickly held back by two of the others.

However this was clearly not out of a brotherly concern. Paul had seen how the 5th Officer was eying Cecily as she walked up.

He remembered when he used to watch her like that and whenever she caught him, she would give him a dirty look and tell him to bugger off. Both Cecily and Roland mixed their slang on occasion.

Cecily was clearly aware of the way Lowe was looking at her and unlike with him, she was content to let him look his fill, even with her brother standing right next to her!

So… she'll spread her legs for the hero of the night, but knife me for trying to kiss her. Lousy slut.

A/N 2: This was quite a chapter. In more ways than one. He was definitely trying to do more than kiss her, that's for sure. What do you all think of our new villain? Looking forward to seeing what you all think! SSD