"A Thousand Points of Light"
Author: carmen_085
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters from James Cameron's Titanic, not any real people. I do not own Titanic or any characters from the movie. I do own all original characters.
Summary: Fifth Officer Harold Lowe and Titanic's Nurse Clara Barnett lives become intertwined on the ship's maiden voyage when a young drifter is brutally beaten.
Chapter Ten
She was so cold. It was the only thing she could think about as opening her eyes became increasingly difficult. Clara knew she was dying; every minute and and every second she spent like this, with her body temperature dangerously low, parts of her were shutting down. She couldn't feel her arms or legs as her body shivered violently trying absolutely anything to generate some heat. She wouldn't survive if she let herself drift off; if she wanted to make it through tonight she would need to fight.
Forcing her eyes open she saw that a few men were on the other side of the boat, most of them holding on for dear life. They were hopelessly adrift without so much as a paddle to influence their direction; she could only hope they were far enough away from the ship that once it sunk they wouldn't be pulled down with it.
The Titanic itself, once such a symbol of luxury and power, was now gasping her final breaths as the stern was near vertical in the air. The lights flickered a few times before going out leaving the screaming horde of people still aboard in total darkness. The sheer force of destruction was both amazing and terrifying at the same time. Metal crushing and twisting, wood splintering, glass shattering; it was a cacophony of terror that was only outmatched by the terrifying screams of those whose fate was all but sealed. Clara closed her eyes for a moment knowing none of this had to be; they'd all been so stupid flaunting the prowess of man against the will of God.
For years later her dreams would be haunted by the growling sound of the ship breaking in two. It was so loud and so deep, the vibration traveling over the expanse of the ocean and echoing inside her. People needed her that was for sure, with so many patients scattered around her begging for help she'd never be able to get to them all. In her weakened, half delirious state she felt compelled to do something, though, and as she tried to move forward to reach the man struggling to pull himself onto the boat a strong arm held her back.
"You can't help him…" Lightoller's normally steady voice hitched as he shook just as violently as her, their bodies bumping against each other in a chaotic rhythm. "Can't help anyone now." Clara was silent considering that, which took so much more energy than normal. Squinting her eyes she cocked her head slightly as the man slipped back into the water and and then beneath the gently lapping waves.
Adjusting himself against her he held her as tightly as he could, the lifeboat pitching side to side with the weight of men trying to climb aboard. Thankfully they'd drifted away from the ship rather than toward it. There wasn't much time left for those aboard as the stern rose high in the air; people falling off the sides like ants swallowed by the dark sea. Although he'd never been much for looking away, Lightoller found himself averting his gaze. He was responsible for this; at least partly so, following every order for more speed without question. The only person who seemed to question anything was and he'd chastised him for it. Now so many innocent people were about to pay for their collective ignorance. And that wasn't the only thing he'd been bloody wrong about.
"Clara…." His voice hitched cracking for a moment as he shut his mouth. Even half freezing and numb Clara didn't miss the moment of weakness, the uncharacteristic hesitation. "I'm sorry for how I treated you before…" She was shaking violently and words seemed much too difficult so with her free hand she reached up and wrapped her numb fingers around his arm. It was all that she could do right now although she desperately wished she could tell him it was alright. He was just doing what he thought was best at the time.
Across from her a young man sat astride the overturned boat, his face twisted in terror and as she followed his gaze she knew why. Her eyes fell on the stern of the ship and that ring of light where she met Harry. That night in Southhampton seemed like so long ago. Knowing Harry was safe and on a boat right now was the only thing giving her hope to survive this night.
The ship disappeared under a torrent of churning sea water, the last of those hanging on the rails pitched into the freezing ocean. Clara forced her eyes closed not wanting to watch, however there was nothing she could do to escape the screams, the heart wrenching cries. Hundreds off hopeless cries blending together in an unbearable chorus of misery. She wanted to cry but she was so cold nothing happened. Behind her she heard Lightoller exhale a pained gasp as she curled her fingers around his arm squeezing him as hard as she could.
These people weren't moving fast enough- not nearly- and he was getting agitated. Looking back at the mass of those flailing in the water Harry squeezed the shit out of his flashlight willing himself not to hit anyone over the head with it as he turned back toward the passengers in his boat. The last of them stumbled across the thwart, a women's shawl slipping off the head revealing a young man.
Harry inhaled sharply his eyes narrowing. Behind him the screams of more than a thousand helpless souls, many of them women and children, echoed in his ears. Before he could think about it, Harry put his hands on the hapless boy and shoved him as hard as he could into the other boat. "How dare you !" His heart squeezed painfully in his chest, if he found Clara dead out there he was going to throw this kid overboard.
Time was running out and he needed to focus on what was important.
"Listen to me men. We have to go back !" An Able Seaman in the boat, Joseph Scarrott, hesitated as he reached for an oar. With all of the women finally out of lifeboat fourteen they had no reason not to follow the orders of the young officer.
"Sir…". Lowe's dark eyes turned toward him and he thought maybe he should just shut up and yet his lips continued to move. "Sir we're liable to be swamped if we head back now." It was the thought on everyone's mind although no one had been brave enough to say it until just now. Harry paused for a moment before shaking his head.
"We are going back and we are taking as many people on this boat that will fit." His tone was low and left no room for argument. "And if you don't like that I don't care." Lifeboat fourteen was near empty but even so all those left aboard fell silent. It was clear that the young officer had his mind made up. A few passengers thought he was very brave, setting out to rescue who he could; most thought he was crazy asking for trouble that they didn't need. They were all lucky, had made it into a boat, and now it just seemed foolish to tempt fate. But still he was determined and with the last of the passengers from the boat Harry immediately took his position at the till.
While he may have projected a sense of control he certainly didn't feel it. Beneath his wool sweater his heart was pounding so fast he was shaking. Clara was, without a doubt, the most resilient woman he'd ever met and he told himself again and again that she'd found a way to get off the ship. But still there was a chance that she hadn't and if she was out here somewhere in the masses floating before him he intended to find her.
It was getting quiet now and Clara couldn't help but to close her eyes. She was so tired and so cold although she supposed she should feel lucky. Lightoller was holding on to her so tightly that what little body heat they had was evenly being shared between the two of them. Where they sat on the till, they were elevated and their feet weren't dangling in the water, still Clara hadn't felt her legs in the last hour or so. A groan and then the sound of someone hitting the water forced her to open her eyes. A man that been fighting to hold on for a while now gave up and surrendered himself to certain death in the water. She numbly watched him bob a few time before he disappeared under the dark water.
"Alright men shift your weight now, easy…" Clara felt him pull her to the right, their collective weight shifting over the till as those aboard with any wherewithal attempted the same. Each time someone let go, the boat would rock and shift tenuously with all those aboard gasping in panic. For his part, Lightoller would guide the others the best that he could instructing them to shift their weight right or left in order to even out the load. Afterward everything would settle down and they would fall silent again with nothing to listen to but the mournful cries.
"Clara…" She turned her head as far as she could to let him know that she was listening her frozen hair crunching in the process. "You're American…" He trailed off trying the best that he could to steady his voice. "I hear that it can be quite beautiful." She paused, shaking and considering the words that had just come out of his mouth.
"You're full of shit." Even in this, the bleakest of moments, she still had that undeniable fire and he knew immediately why Harry had fallen in love with her. She was incredible in the most ordinary way, which sounded like it wasn't a compliment at all but in a time when women went to great lengths to cover up their natural selves it certainly was. Even nearly frozen he couldn't help but to let out a laugh. Clara's lips twitched painfully, "Haven't met a Brit who liked the place yet." They both fell quiet, the waves lapping against the boat lulling her into her memories as she let her eyes drift shut.
Immediately she saw the face of her father. Right when they settled at Fort Buford; she not more than a few years old and Steven still a baby in her mother's arms. His dark navy Union Army jacket making a stark contrast against the yellow prairie grass that stood hip height around their very rustic home. The sky was so blue and wide stretching for miles unbroken over the frontier. She remembered it hurt her eyes to look at, so sharp and clear it was almost too much to comprehend- wanting to take it all in, all at once but not nearly able. It was fall and the land was painted yellow and orange red and rich tones of brown, the chill of the air blowing her dark hair. Soon it would be dark and they would need to go inside; barring the door against the elements and hostiles they would huddle together in the single bed- she and Steven in the middle- the fire crackling in the hearth all night long. Above them the sky a tapestry of stars.
Clara's eyes opened as she looked up. It was practically silent now, the only sounds were the lapping of sea water and Lightoller's shaky breathing in her ear. A smile came to her face as she felt her father and mother in that moment stronger than she had in a long time. "It is beautiful…" Her voice was hoarse from the cold. "So many wide open spaces; sky so blue it hurts your eyes." She paused before continuing, "The prairie, that's where I grew up, it's flat grasslands. When we first moved there it was still Indian country, wild and unsettled. Soft golden hip high grass as far as the eye can see, everything so warm and rich in color- perfect, untouched." Clara felt warmer just thinking about it and as she sighed with a strange contentment she remembered her father's words. "At night the sky has so many stars just like tonight." Lightoller followed her gaze upwards toward the brilliant night sky. "My dad used to tell me to look up- a 'Thousand Points of Light' he called it, right there above our heads."
Clara fell silent missing her family right now more than she ever had. Behind her, Lightoller sighed softly. "It sounds magnificent, maybe one day you can show it to me…" Reaching up she squeezed his arm as she closed her eyes. In her mind she saw the same windswept prairie of her youth, but this time Harry was there. Taking her hand in his he wore a simple cotton shirt and trousers, his hair was mussed, and his dark eyes were loving. They walked together as the sun was setting; neither saying a word as they simply enjoyed being warm and safe together.
Harry swallowed hard as the dark night parted under their gently slapping oars. In front of him a debris field stretched on for as far as the eye could see. Deck chairs, pieces of the ship, but more than anything else….people. Hundreds maybe thousands silently bobbing in the dark ocean. Inhaling sharply he quickly realized that they'd taken too long to go back. Since the moment the ship had struck the iceberg time had changed and warped with some moments seeming to last an eternity and others gone in the blink of an eye. Wracking his brain now he tried to figure out how long it had been; thirty minutes, maybe forty five, it didn't seem like that long. But the water was freezing, below freezing actually as he remembered the last water temp he'd gotten on watch the evening before somewhere near twenty eight degrees. No one could survive more than a few minutes.
Abruptly he looked away. Clara could be out here like this right now. Because of him…of course. He'd sent her back below decks, he'd not fought to get her into a boat, he'd left her. No matter how much he felt for her, he just didn't know how to put someone ahead of his duty. He never had to and until he met her never wanted to. But in five days she'd become his reason for everything and when it mattered most he fucked up. All of this seemed almost destined to happen…
The old house had seen better days and since his mother's passing Harry could see that the old man had't made much of an effort to do anything about it. His mother had always been the practical one, keeping the lights on and the bills paid while his father was more often than not lost in the bottle in his art studio or wandering about the streets of town.
The tolerance of his youth had faded to contempt as he grew older, George Lowe insisting that he would be apprenticed and have a proper education before taking up his calling for a life at sea. Was he stupid ? Hadn't he seen what had become his older brother ? It was a rhetorical questions more than anything else; his brother while big and strong could not even swim. Georgie had been his fucking idol growing up, but as Harry got older he realized how unnecessary the entire sad affair had been. He didn't care how much the old man blustered; there was no way the sea would ever get him.
And now…now he'd finally done it. He'd been posted to the Titanic; a dream posting for someone like Harry who'd come up the hard way. No schools, no apprenticeships, no fancy letters or anyone speaking for him other than himself. But he'd made it all the same and now with a weeklong furlough before his posting started he found himself back in Wales turning the knob to a home he didn't consider his own. He had no home, no place to come back to; for so long now he had been responsible to no one. Harry wasn't sure why he was here right now; what he expected to find or gain from this little detour.
Immediately upon turning the knob he was confronted with darkness and a musty smell. Overlooking the water, it took considerable effort to keep the house dry and the moisture out, they always kept a low fire going no matter what the weather. Light peeked through the closed drapes as he looked around, his officer's dress shoes clicking on the wood floor. Harry much preferred work boots, worn pants, and a wool sweater; he wasn't fancy especially when working- no reason to be. Being an Officer, however, required a certain code of dress- pomp and the illusion of authority, British customs and mores trumping practicality.
The stairs creaked in all the places he remembered as his hand ghosted over familiar nicks and dents in the old wooden bannister. At the top of the stairs he heard music; ragtime on a scratchy gramophone. Pushing the door to his father's art studio open, he stood in the doorway inhaling the scent of cheap cigarettes and stale booze. Various canvases were scattered about the room, most half finished the inspiration behind them waning just as quickly as it came. 'Did they have the salt pork ?' His father didn't bother to look up clearly assuming he was someone else. When he didn't reply the old man peered around his painting the placid look on his face fading to a scowl.
'What are you doing here ?' He took in Harry's uniform, the White Star Line emblem on his chest, and his polish dress shoes. Not saying a word he turned back to the canvas.
Harry laughed lightly. 'Good to see you too, Dad.' It was respectful and the custom of the times to use the word father which was exactly the reason Harry had selected not to. George Lowe peered back around what he was working as he took a long swig from his bottle.
'What do you want Harold ?' He could pretend to be surprised, there was no love lost between them, that was for sure. If his father had a favorite it would most certainly be his sister Ada; to him Harry had always been nothing but a problem. And yet his father had managed to pose a question he could not answer. What did he actually want coming here today ?
His voice hitched before he cleared his throat. 'I've gotten a berth on the Titanic; sure you've heard of her…' Neither of them missed the hopeful crescendo in his voice. To Harry's ears it sounded damn near pathetic.
'The ship they say is unsinkable ?' It was a compliment but a taunt, and Harry responded before he could properly think.
'She is unsinkable…God himself could not sink that ship.' As soon as the words left his mouth he felt himself cringe. His father had a way of forcing him to say things that made him look like fool; a scared kid masquerading as a brave man. He exhaled through gritted teeth. His father laughed and rolled his eyes not even indulging Harry with a reply. Without thinking, Harry brought his fists into little balls at his sides, his heart was pounding, and his jaw clenched so tight his head throbbed. 'Laugh if you want…but I made it. All the way to the top my own way.'
His father paused taking a drink and shrugging indifferently. 'Yes you did….but here you are nearly a thirty year old man untethered with no family and no home.' He laughed shaking his head. 'So pathetic that you've shown up here in my home, a place you swore you'd never return to…'
Harry deflated; his stomach flopping and his heart sinking. His father always had that way about him- able to cut him down with just a few words. The smirk on the old man's face told him this had been nothing but a colossal mistake.
His eyes snapped open when he heard the oar hit something solid. Frozen bodies were all around them bobbing in thick cork life jackets; some with their eyes open and mouths twisted in terror, others who simply looked as if they had fallen asleep. The seaman in front of him cringed as he slapped his oar of the head of someone else. It took Harry all of one second to react.
"What the hell is the matter with you !" The seaman froze in place, his oar mid air. "Don't just hit them !" He had no response, there was nothing to say, as far as the eye could see the ocean was littered with bodies and it seemed that no matter where he placed his oar he was liable to hit one. The young officer looked away, clearly tortured by the scene before them, as the seaman gingerly placed his oar back into the water. It hadn't been lost on anyone in the boat how emotional the officer had been; while he'd held it together well enough to organize their efforts to return the actual act of returning had undone him just as badly as leaving the ship in the first place. There was a woman, everyone had seen his impassioned plea for her to jump- why she hadn't no one could know. As the lifeboat pulled away and the women disappeared into the crowd; the young officer crumbled immediately taking his position at the till and covering his face as the abject horror of the night had its way with him.
There wasn't a man aboard that could look around right now and not think that they'd waited too long. The water was freezing and a person didn't stand a chance of lasting more than a few minutes. It had been nearly an hour….leaning over the gunwale Scarrott lifted one of them up by the straps of the life jacket. A woman, third class wearing a threadbare wool jacket and a simple cotton dress, her blonde hair had frozen like medusa around her head and her clear blue eyes were stuck wide open in permanent agony. "These are dead sir…" Lowe bit is his lip and stared at the corpse as Scarrott gently lowered the woman back into the water.
It wasn't Clara and that was all that mattered to him but as he watched the seaman lower the body of a women about the same age back into the sea he couldn't help but to wonder - and feel- that he would inevitable find her out here somewhere much the same. Pinching his eyes shit he shook his head, everyone was dead- as far as he could see in every direction, dead. And there was no way anyone could tell him that this wasn't at least partially his fault. All the orders for speed, the unbelievable ignorance- discarding ice warnings like they didn't mean anything, like there wasn't going to be a reckoning. It made him sick, made him tremble to his very core, and if the sum total of every poor decision he'd made over the last five days cost him the only person who ever meant anything to him he knew he wouldn't go on. The only reason he was going on now was because there was still a chance that she was out there- hanging on to life despite everything.
Scarrott knew Lowe better than most, having worked most of his watches with him throughout their journey. He was capable and brash, unapologetic for the way he'd come up in his career and never one to do something he didn't think was right. Scarrott was there the night Lightoller ripped into him for slowing the ship to sixteen knots and he saw the way the young officer took that disciple with a stiff spine and a clenched jaw. Undaunted- that was what he'd told the other men when he returned to the crew quarters that night.
But now all that had changed. Each time his gaze fell on the face of a women he stiffened and his lips were pulled taut. And then each time he realized it wasn't her, he relaxed slightly, imperceptibly. Scarrott had no idea who she was but he knew in that moment that the young officer was completely in love with her.
Dawn arrived quietly to those left behind. The night sky lightened and then eventually streaked pink against a frozen landscape of ice. Lightoller blinked against the light having drifted off for a moment or two just before dawn. He'd stopped shivering hours ago and could not feel most of his body but the fact that he made it to morning gave him a certain strange sort of hope, maybe he'd get back to Sylvia after all. It took him a moment or two to realize that his arm was frozen in place around Clara. They'd weathered the night together in absolute misery. She was still now stuck against him for better or worse and he with almost no ability to do more than he was already doing. Shaking her gently, his voice was nothing more than a whisper against her ear.
"Clara…wake up love…there's a boat." And there was a boat…on the horizon a steamer coming straight for them making full speed as he could see the ocean cutting around her bow. She didn't move and his heart sank as he nudged her harder. "Clara…please wake up." She moaned stirring slightly as her raspy voice emitted a single question before she became unresponsive again.
"Harry ?" He could do nothing but hold her tighter hoping that she would survive just a bit longer.
"He's here, Clara, just hold on…everything is going to be alright, love. Just hold on." Looking to the horizon Lightoller willed the ship to hurry.
TBC…
I know it's been a minute. Dealing with an old German Shepherd that can't walk anymore and sick family member- and being absolutely exhausted from both. Still here though and still writing !
Next chapter I promise will be out sooner because that is the much anticipated Harry/Clara reunion with ALL THE FEELS !