"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 Six
"Do you not care that the ship is on fire right now ?…That the hull could be weakening below our very feet ?" Harry trailed Lightoller back toward the bridge, his head spinning in every direction.
"Don't be dramatic Mr. Lowe…You've been on enough ships to know that coal fires are rather common." Harry huffed shaking his head.
"This is different, sir, I saw it with my own eyes. Apparently it's been burning like this since Southhampton…" Lightoller stopped turned on his heel and causing Harry to nearly smack straight into him.
"You didn't seem too concerned about it when I found you." He looked down his nose in that characteristic way of his, making Harry angrier if possible. Gritting his teeth he held back the urge to punch his senior officer right in the face. "I switched the watch schedule around and I'll expect you back on the bridge at 0400." He looked at his watch with the slightest of smirks on his face, "Best be off….it's past midnight."
Harry fumed, his brown eyes blazing as he chomped down on his own lip hard. "Do I need to bring my concerns to the Captain, Sir ?" Lightoller paused midway between him and the door that led back to the Bridge. On the boat deck, dark and completely deserted this time of night, they were outlined only by starlight. Harry clenched his fists at his side, his heart was pounding. The two men squared off in the impromptu duel, daring the other to blink first.
Lightoller clicked his tongue as he crossed the distance between them. A couple inches taller than Harry he held the physical dominance, and used it to his benefit, looking down at him. "What would you tell him ? That you disobeyed a direct order…dropping the speed of the ship? That you left your post to go below decks with your girlfriend to investigate a rather ordinary occurrence? That you were caught on duty having a romantic dalliance ?" He paused stared down at him. Shaking his head he let out a wry laugh. "I know you think you're special Mr. Lowe, because you came up the hard way, but you're nothing more than a loose cannon…..a hot shot. Someone who's out to prove something to daddy." The last insult took all the wind out of Harry's sails as he visibly deflated. How could he have known such a thing? His stomach rolled and he suddenly felt very dizzy, his senior officer gaining the upper hand. "I'll expect you back on the bridge at 0400 sharp. Good Night Mr. Lowe." Turning on his heel Lightoller walked back toward the navigational room opening the door and closing it with a sharp click.
Harry stood there in partial shock for longer than he'd ever admit. Eventually, after he'd gathered enough of his awareness to make his legs work again, he turned back toward his cabin. Funny how the mention of one man could reduce him to a heap of unresolved emotions. Part of him, a very large part, wanted to go and find her- assure her that this changed nothing between them. However, another part of him- a lesser but more important part- knew it was a bad idea. He could easily find another ship to work on with another liner but he'd never forgive himself if he compromised her job in some way. No, he would see her tomorrow. Let this whole mess cool off. Flinging his hat onto the desk, Harry shed his clothing down to the undershirt and boxers before dropping into bed. He assumed that he'd be awake for hours, tossing and turning mulling over the day's events. Surprisingly, however, he drifted straight off to sleep.
Harry blinked rolling over in bed, he could have sworn that he'd fallen asleep but now he wasn't so sure. The cabin was lit with just the desk lamp as it had been and his hat was sitting just where he'd left it. Sighing he scrubbed his face with his hand, the alarm must have woken him up for his 0400 watch although he couldn't remember it going off. Touching the carpet with his bare feet he pulled on his pants and only then did he hear the commotion coming from outside his cabin.
Voices, a lot of them, some speaking loudly others in hushed whispers. Standing, he became aware, for the first time, that the ship was at a stand still, the constant humming under his feet now absolutely silent. Something wasn't right. Forgoing the typical officer's dress, he pulled on his sweater and threw the door open.
It took him all of two second to realize that the ship was sinking. Passengers gathered in lifebelts, crew swinging the lifeboats, chaos, yelling, the incessant release of steam from the funnels. He inhaled sharply, how could this happen ? How could no one have come to get him? Running toward the bridge in nothing but his wool socks he ran into Jimmy first. The normal smile that seemed painted on the kid's face was gone and in its place a grim line.
"What's happened ?" Harry barely recognized his own voice, high and thin.
Moody studied him carefully before looking back over his shoulder. "They ran her aground old man….we're done for." Ran her aground? It made no sense they were in the middle of the North Atlantic.
"We're hundreds of miles from shore…" Moody cracked a humorless smile, something that appeared completely foreign on his face.
"No matter. She's taking on water in all compartments." He leveled his gaze at Harry shrugging. "If we hadn't slowed down this never would have happened."
He squinted back at him. None of this made any sense. Jimmy left him there, pushing past to yell orders at one of the seaman to start loading the lifeboats. Up ahead the senior officers were in a group discussing the situation in hushed voices. Looking over his shoulder, Lightoller met his gaze the ghost of smirk on his face. He'd been right…Harry swallowed hard as he turned. Breaking out into a run he heard Jimmy call after him.
"Where the hell are you going ?" If things were as dire below decks as his junior officer believed, he needed to find Clara. Passengers were panicked, though, and the crush to get up onto the boat deck stymied his progress considerably. Screaming and crying seemed to assault him from every angle and the faster he tried to go, the more he was held up. An immigrant latched onto his sweater seeing the White Star Line insignia; her pleading tear filled eyes implored him.
"Help…" What followed was a string of words in another language. It took everything he had to pry the woman off of him and push her along with the rest of the crowd headed upward. He made it as far as C- Deck and could go no further, the first class dining room, reception area, and kitchens flooded to the ceiling. Harry fought to swallow back the absolute terror that clawed at the back of his throat.
He wasted no time doubling back checking stairwell after stairwell finding no passage lower than C-Deck. Bending over he felt the vomit creeping up the back of the throat.
"HARRY !" His head snapped up in disbelief. She was suddenly there- in the water- soaked and freezing, reaching for him. "HELP !"
Shirking his sweater and reaching for his boots he was just reminded that he'd gone on this chase shoeless and was still in nothing but his wool socks; his feet now completely numb. Plunging into the cold water he reached for her, their hands nearly touching. He almost smiled, almost said a prayer of thanks that he'd found her and saved her just in the nick of time. Something above him broke free though and in a second a torrent of seawater pushed him into something hard knocking him out cold; the world going completely black.
Harry sat up, the scream dying on his lips. It took him a moment to realize he was in bed and that the very real situation he'd just been in was only a dream. Chest heaving he was covered in sweat as he threw the covers back casting an eye at the alarm. 0315- no way was he getting back to sleep again, not after that. The ship was humming along and everything was quiet. He exhaled mussing his hair which already stuck up in every direction. He had to see her now, there was no waiting until tomorrow. Pulling on his pants and boots he tied them tightly grounding himself back in reality. It was just his overactive mind distorting the confrontation with Lightoller and turning it back on himself. Bravado aside he was good at that, turning the blame on himself, and ruminating on it endlessly. Pulling on his sweater he didn't bother to comb his hair and yanked the door open. Goddamn them all; she was the only thing he cared about anymore.
April 14, 1912
0330 am
It had taken Clara nearly two hours to fall asleep; the confrontation below decks circling over and over in her mind. She had to be careful- her job was meaningless compared to Harry who'd worked his entire life to get to this point. For her the sea was an adventure, for him it was his life. No matter what she was going to stay away from him until they docked in New York, after that they could figure this out. The more she thought about it the sadder she became. The odds of them being assigned to the same ship again were low, especially after what just happened. She didn't know the Senior Officer's name but she knew the held some power on this ship. The bars on his arm told her as much. Maybe this was just a tryst; a moment in time that souls were brought together and then torn apart just as fast.
She fought the urge to cry. Not just because she found herself caring about him but also because he made her feel a way no one else ever had. Parts of her that she didn't even know existed had come alive in the last two days. Maybe it really was too good to be true; love like this couldn't actually exist- it would drive a person mad to be this connected to another human being. Truth be told she already felt like she couldn't breath without him. In just a short period of time he'd gotten that far inside her.
Clara drifted off to sleep when the knock at the door came, urgent and fast, she could only assume that someone had fallen ill. Because of the fact that she could be woken up all hours of the day or night, Clara had taken to sleeping in her uniform. She refused to wear any of the bindings underneath so it wasn't really that uncomfortable, just bulky, which was fine because it was positively freezing below decks. Her hair hanging long and framing her face, she brushed it back before clicking the locks and opening the door.
They stood there staring at each there for a moment. The only sound passing between them the steady humming that shook the walls and floor. The first thing she noticed about him was how disheveled he was, hair sticking up in every direction he looked more like a seaman than an officer. Work boots and a sweater was their thing, the working class of the crew, the Officers were practically First Class Passengers if not in wealth then in esteem. She swallowed hard, surely he heard the click in the back of her throat.
"Clara…I'm sorry." He took a step toward her. "I let things go too far and it's my fault his happened." He reached out for her arm and she backed away, the look of hurt on his face something she would remember until the day she died.
"Harry we can't…" He was confused to say the least- their feelings absolutely red hot just a few hours ago. She shook her head looking down at the floor. "You're an Officer and I'm just a crew person- I can't screw this up for you, you've worked your whole life to get here."
Not knowing where to put his hands he shoved them into his pockets. "I don't care." His face open and honest, he hoped that she saw how serious he was.
Clara sighed shaking her head. "Harry…Don't be silly. We just met. This is your life…I won't be the reason you lose your dream." She started shutting the door but he was too quick snapping it back open and not letting her resist this time. Pulling her into his arms he crushed her against his chest.
"My dream is you." She shuddered, feeling herself begin to crumble. Wrapping her arms around him in return a tiny sob escaped her throat. He squeezed her in return, something about this moment reaching inside him to his core. He was so vulnerable right now; everything from his heart to his appearance said he was open to her. Ready to be hurt, even willing to, if it meant that they had each other.
When Clara pulled away she felt herself become sick. If this was the right thing to do then why did it feel so wrong. "Harry…I can't. It's not right." His brow furrowed as he looked at her rather confused. "I want you to go…and leave me alone." He exhaled, pushing his own hurt aside and seeing the situation for what it obviously was. Lightoller had said something to her also; most likely threatening both their jobs with the White Star Line.
"You don't mean that Clara." He wouldn't let her go. Forcing her to look up at him he saw the unshed tears in those light gray eyes. "Tell me that you don't feel something for me….tell me that none of this means anything to you…." He looked into her eyes. "Tell me that you're not falling in love with me the way I'm falling in love with you…" She inhaled sharply, the tears falling down her cheeks.
"I….I can't do this. You have to go, Harry. Please just go." He dropped his hands, stung and unable to hide it. Anyone else and he'd have told them to go to hell. Not her, though, never her. He swallowed back the bile in his throat and nodded slowly. Without another word he turned, looking back at at her just once as he shut the door.
Clara dissolved into tears, burying her face in her hands she stumbled backwards falling onto the bed and began to cry.
April 14, 1912
8 pm
The infirmary was quiet as the ship hummed along, everything operating as usual. A third class man lay in one of the bunks, a head injury when he slipped down the stairs. He was asleep now but she kept a close eye on him knowing that if he was bleeding on the brain there as little that could be done. Taking one of the logs down, Clara meticulously recorded everything she'd used today so that it could be replaced once they docked in New York. Her hand moved on the paper and her eyes scanned the words but she wasn't there. Her heart was far from in it, far from here all together.
She'd not seen or heard from Harry all day, and frankly she was a bit surprised. It was utterly ridiculous considering that she all but thrown him out, told him to go - more than once no less- and he'd gone. She had no right to be shocked or surprised, or anything. He'd been there, laying it all out on the line and she'd turned him away for no other reason than she was afraid. Truth be told, she did love him. How that was even remotely possible in two days she had no idea.
"Excuse me ?" She nearly jumped falling backwards off the stool at the intrusion. Eyes flicking up she felt her heart sink. The Officer- the Senior Officer- who'd chastised and threatening Harry was standing right there- in the infirmary. She swallowed hard ready to hear it again. Surely he must have learned that Harry was in her cabin at an ungodly hour and this was her official disciple. The moment when he told her that her services out no longer be required. Clara smoothed her dress, her eyes cast down as she waited for it.
"Yes sir." The lights were turned down, practically off in fact, giving the man with the head injury some much needed rest. By the flicker of candle and lantern she must have missed the obvious tension in his posture. The unnatural way his shoulder was cocked. And the mask of pain on his face.
"I've…well I've fallen and my arm doesn't seem to be working." He bit out the statement wanting more than anything to go off on the First Class toff and her stupid little dog running without a leash on the boat deck. Once this whole mess was over he had half a mind to give her a penalty for the whole incident. Animals were to leashed at all times, lest something like this happen.
"Oh…" Clara came to stand in front of him. Just last night this man had scolded her and threatened her job now he needed her. How strange fate can be sometimes. She lifted her hands tentatively as he studied her and placed them gently on his shoulder. It was dislocated, clearly humped up at the socket. Would be easy enough to reduce back in to place, if he let her of course. Stepping back she nodded toward the injured extremity, "Your shoulder is dislocated, it needs put back into place."
He tried to remain as composed as possible despite the intense pain radiating from his arm. "Is Dr. OLoughlin here ?" Clara had to fight the urge to snort. What a ridiculous question that was.
"He's hardly ever here, Sir." Her eyes wandered toward the door. "He's normally in the smoking room this time of night." Lightoller's lips drew into a grim line. Another matter he'd need to address when this was all over. Seemed like all he got done was addressing other's inability to follow orders. He sighed shaking his head, the words that followed sounding strange and desperate even to his ears.
"Can you help me?" She didn't flinch, didn't smile or even gloat; she was a better person then he was for certain. Clara folded her hands at her belt, her clear gray eyes stared into his as she nodded. Her face remained impassive and he was impressed at her ability to put her personal feelings aside from her duties. Surely she must want to tell him to piss off but she forced herself to remain stoic and professional.
"If you like." It was said with honestly as Lightoller began to feel like a dick for treating her as he did. Honestly, he was angrier at Mr. Lowe who should certainly know better. Offering her the best smile he could, he followed her direction toward one of the empty beds. Other than a man laying in the corner the place was empty.
"Everyone on the ship enjoying good health I take it." Clara paused for a moment collecting the supplies from the cabinet and thinking of what exactly he meant. When it dawned on her that he was simultaneously making a pathetic effort at small talk and commenting on the emptiness of that infirmary she frowned. Shaking her head she stood up and cast him a glance.
"I'm not sure Sir. The third class patients aren't allowed to stay in the infirmary unless their injuries are life threatening, so I see them in their cabins. There are actually quite a number of them ill or injured." Her eyes wandered to Jack's bed, empty again, he'd returned last night with muscle spasms from a night of dancing in third class. She's frowned and told him it was bedrest from here on out. Obviously he'd decided better and was mostly likely off with that red haired girl he was so crazy about.
"I see." He left it at that and she didn't see the need to keep up pointless conversation. Coming to stand in front of him she gestured toward his coat, somewhat inhibited due to his status and the fact he most likely hated her.
"I need to take your coat and shirt off to see better." Not wanting to feel like a complete invalid he moved to pull the wool blazer off stopping short with a sharp inhale. Fuck it hurt so goddamn bad. Her hands were on his chest before he could stop her. As they worked gently but efficiently he quickly found he didn't want to stop her. She had his coat off without a hitch, the white uniform shirt and tie following in short order. As he sat there in his white cotton undershirt and navy blue uniform pants he felt a chill roll down his back. He hated this- being so exposed, so vulnerable to another person- let alone someone he'd just threaten to fire. Sylvia would surely chide him when he told her about this. Tell him what a fool he was, as usual.
When Clara came back she had a syrette of Morphine. "For the pain," she explained.
Lightoller was quick to rebuff her. It hurt but not that much. He could handle this without any kind of drugs and besides he was on watch right now. "No. No ! I couldn't possibly. I'm on watch until 11." Clara backed off studying him curiously. After a moment she shrugged.
"It will hurt quite a bit." She wondered if it was really being on watch or if it was something more- her perhaps and his persistence that she understand he was always in control.
"That's fine.I'll be ok." Signing she placed the Morphine back on the counter. She couldn't force him no matter how ridiculous she thought this to be.
"Very well then." She approached him taking his wrist in one hand and his shoulder in the other. "Take a deep breath when I say." She palpated the bony prominences, the defined muscle, and the taut ligaments. Clara felt her own heart accelerate, if she fucked this up he would think her even more incompetent than he already did. She noticed how tense he was, practically stiff as a board. Shaking his arm gently she smiled as reassuringly as she possibly could. "You're so tense. It won't go back in unless you relax a bit, your muscles will fight it." Lightoller looked at her and it was only then that he realized he was holding his breath. Letting the air whoosh out he shook his head.
"I'm sorry. I don't know any other way to be." A strange slip of the tongue that had him turning bright red. She paused and flicked her eyes to his a smirk twitching at her lips.
"Well don't worry, there's no one for you to yell at here." His mouth dropped open not just at her comment but also at her plucky nature. Then, unexpectedly, he let out a genuine laugh. Something that came from his belly and rolled out filling the room with its sound. Clara smiled laughing a bit herself. His tense frame instantly relaxed as she squeezed his wrist. "Ready ?" The smiled faded from his face and he nodded seriously.
She was quick and efficient, reducing his shoulder in one shift movement and a crack loud enough for both to hear. Searing pain shot through his body and before he knew it, Lightoller was pitching forward a yelp escaping his lips. When his heart stopped pounding and the blood ceased to rush in his ears, he became aware the his forehead was leaning against something soft. Clara was cradling him in her arms, letting the blinding pain subside as she rubbed his shoulder soothingly. A woman he'd scorned was now providing what comfort she could to him. She didn't have to do that, she was here to perform a procedure not coddle a bullheaded patient like himself. Still, she did and she didn't complain, didn't waver, didn't question.
Straightening himself up he tested his arm finding it to work as it should. Clara sensed his embarrassment turning away to find something to sling his arm. She knew he would most likely bitch about that too but it was her job to insist and she planned to do just that.
Lightoller tentatively pulled his uniform shirt back on studying the back of the woman he'd so terribly misjudged. She was an amazing nurse, in fact, and her spunky nature seemed to match up well to Mr. Lowe's own snappy disposition. Truth be told, he really couldn't talk. He himself had met his wife Sylvia on a ship not so long ago- a passenger to boot- their love affair was strictly prohibited in a number of ways. He hadn't given a hoot, though, the Australian beauty all but casting a spell on him. They met on the way to Sydney and were married for the return voyage to England. Even now, his lips turned up in a soft way thinking of his wife waiting for him back in Liverpool.
"I would like you to sling your arm, at least until tomorrow morning." She saw his mouth open, a protest ready on his lips, clicking her tongue she shook her head. "No bullshit, Sir." His mouth snapped closed, eyebrows raising in surprise. "It's all stretched out right now and can easily slip back out of place. You wouldn't want to take anymore time away from your duties." Spunky and very, very smart. His lips curled into a smile.
"I can see why Mr. Lowe is so taken with you…" Clara couldn't hide the surprise on her face. Choosing to accept the compliment silently, she didn't want to make any problems for Harry by saying the wrong thing. He stood up taking his jacket and pulling it on with his good arm, Clara finishing by wrapping it around his other arm. Buttoning it up she noted the way his left sleeve hung empty and thought it would probably drive him crazy to look so disheveled. The sling would probably be in the garbage before he got to the boat deck. Taking two Aspirin off the shelf she pressed the pills into his hand, soreness would only increase as the cold night wore on. Lightoller exhaled shaking his head. "I'm sorry Clara…truly sorry. You're quite good at your job."
She averted her eyes to the floor nodding. "Thank you." He lingered another moment before nodding.
"I'll be off then. Cheerio." Just as quickly as the situation had been thrust upon her, it was over leaving her standing there with flushed cheeks and a genuine confusion as to what had just happened.
He was angry, beyond angry actually. Lovejoy was a piece of shit; lazy and incompetent having no better use than to make sure he didn't lose his wallet while drunk. When he said find her he meant for him to fucking find her. Bring her back to him in their suite where he would finally claim her as his own. He was trying- really trying- to be a gentleman and wait until their wedding night. The unfortunate distraction she'd found in Jack Dawson, however, made waiting any longer impossible. She was going to be his no matter what he had to do.
It was a little before eleven and she was no where to be found. When Lovejoy showed up empty handed he searched the ship himself, and any place that she'd be she wasn't. He was sweating now, and drunker than he meant to get. Shirking his dinner coat Cal loosed the collar of his shirt as he spun on his heel pacing the room in agitation. This was completely absurd. She was on the boat- she had to be- just where ? Closing his eyes for a moment they instantly snapped back open, the beginnings of smile on his face.
Clara tidied up the infirmary, exhausted and ready for bed. All of her patients were settled for the night and she hoped that nothing would come up before morning. It had been a long day, up since Harry burst into her room obviously unable to fall back asleep after that. She hadn't seen him all day and she wondered if that was it, she prayed it wasn't, but she couldn't be foolish enough to hope. She had told him to go away, after all, and couldn't think about it without feeling absolutely sick.
Just as last night, Jack was no where to be found slipping off in the middle of the day to run about the ship with that flame haired girl. Something about the whole situation was strange; she obviously coming from some money but dressing like an immigrant. Clara shook her head. It didn't concern her and when he returned tomorrow morning with a sheepish smile and severe pain she was going to tell that was it. He could go back to his cabin and she would allot him a ration of aspirin. Despite her urging he felt he was good enough to run about the ship, now he could do just that as much as he pleased. On his bunk she placed his few possessions, he could get them in the morning. The bed had been turned over though and was ready for someone who actually needed it.
She heard footsteps on the metal stairs and then in the infirmary. It could be a steward, coming to get her because a passenger had fallen ill. Or maybe Jack slinking back to his bed, with a smile and and an apology. She shook her head, she'd not give in to his boyish charm again. The footsteps were hesitant but the breathing was heavy- too heavy for a slight thing like Jack. Lightoller's arm must have slipped out of place. She knew he'd throw the sling away, that man was as stubborn as they came. They came closer and her breath hitched. Harry…Harry had ignored her as part of her hoped he would and he'd come to see her- to hold her again and kiss her like he had last night. Clara spun around, her lips already turning upward.
A hand was around her throat, though, pushing her against the wall making the glass cabinets rattle. He was big with dark hair and dark eyes, menacing cold- nothing like Harry's. His fingers tightened around her neck as he leaned into her. "Where are they ?"
She had no idea what he meant. Clearly first class she could smell the sweet stench of brandy all over him. "Who ?" The word eeked from her throat, barely a whisper. Her heart pounding her hands shaking she hedged her bets on if she could fight back and not make this any worse.
"Don't play stupid." He let her go as cold air whooshed into her lungs. Relief was short lived, though, and his fist met the side of her face causing her to fall to the ground in pain. Blood squirted from her nose and her vision blurred, her fingers curled around the counter to steady herself. "Dawson…and the girl."
It dawned on her right then why things were seemed so strange. She was running away; from her money and breeding, her prick fiancé and expectant family. Right in to the arms of a penniless artist with fresh faced good looks. He was everything she longed to have; he was freedom. She also knew who had beaten Jack within an inch of his life. Clara struggled to her feet, she had to get away from him somehow before he did the same to her.
He paced, angry and now with her blood on his shirt. This wasn't what he intended but he couldn't stop himself. Who was she anyway ? A glorified stewardess, the help. "He'd been gone all day. I don't know where he is." Her voice startled him, not just for the reply but for the defiant tone. Little bitch thought she was someone. Before she could turn he slapped her across the face with the back of his hand earning him a yelp of pain. Clara crumpled against the wall, her head throbbing. He was going to kill her.
And then just as abruptly as he had shown up she heard his footsteps retreating and he was gone. Holding her face she got to her hands and knees and then using the nearest bunk pushed herself up to standing. She had to get out of here before he came back.
April 14, 1912
1130 pm
Harry was in bed, asleep for the first time today by the grace of sheer exhaustion, his mind finally giving out and going blank. When the knock came at the door he couldn't be sure he wasn't dreaming it. Sitting up in bed its persistence was what finally convinced him that it was real. Pulling his wool socks and uniform pants on he hobbled to the door in nothing more than a white t-shirt.
The only thing more shocking than the cold night air was the sight of her in front of him. Bleeding from the nose, eye already swollen and blackened; she leaned against the door frame tears in her eyes.
"I didn't know where else to go." Immediately he pulled her inside, his mouth agape he laid a gentle hand on the side of her face.
"What in the bloody hell?" He guided her to his bed sitting her down and taking a towel wet with a bit of water pressing it to her face.
She shrugged, the emotion threatening to pour out. "It was a man….a first class man. He was looking for Jack and that girl." Harry's dark eyes studied her for a moment, a dangerous look coming over his face.
Hockley. Caledon Hockey.
Rich prick extraordinaire, daddy's boy, shameless drunk; Harry had seen him once or twice and had heard the stories. It was his fiancé who tried to fling herself off the ship. What a joke these people were; so much money they didn't even know how to live. Standing up he reaching for his boots and sweater. He was going to find this prick and beat the fuck out of him. It was decided.
"Harry…don't. I don't want to make anymore trouble for you…" He turned staring at her incredulously.
"Have you seen yourself ?" He shook his head, the danger back on this face. "There no way I'm not…"
The ship shuddered at that moment, pitching to the left and knocking him off balance. An awful scraping sound followed by something heavy falling on the deck. Clara shot up, not sure what was happening but finding her way to his arms intuitively.
When it was over they both looked at one another, the ship silent for the fist time in days.
TBC….