I prepared for my first day visiting the hospital's convalescents as best I could. I packed not only Around the World in 80 Days, but several other books and a box of chocolate bars that Mother had sent. I spent an hour the night before brushing Rigel, having been assured that he would be allowed to come with so long as he was well behaved and didn't make a mess. He was quite glad to hop into the car and have the entire back to himself, although it did take me some time to calm him down once we reached the hospital. He almost pranced around me, sniffing along the wall of the hospital.

I glanced away as he lifted his leg, then tugged him along once he was finished. The secretary, forewarned of my coming, directed me upstairs to the ward I had been allowed to visit. It contained roughly a dozen men, all in the hospital uniform of loose blue jackets and brass buttons. Beds for them lined the walls, a number of chairs and tables scattered around. A battered upright piano sat in the corner, clearly well loved.

I was immediately the subject of attention, all of them turning to me as the secretary stepped in. She sniffed, "This is Mrs. Murdoch, she's come to read to you and provide what entertainment she can." She turned, stopping to gently grasp my shoulder. "Most of them are fairly calm, but if any of them get upset or try and grab you, run for a nurse."

I took a breath, gave her a smile and a nod, and stepped forward. "Hello, everyone." I cast my eyes around the room, taking in my audience. Some of them were still in bed, some at the tables, but all seemed to be missing something. Bandages over eyes, sleeves and trousers pinned up, crutches and wheelchairs waiting to be used. I didn't focus on that though, simply taking a breath. "You can call me Anne, Mrs. Murdoch is a bit formal." I had decided it would be simpler to avoid the subject of my actual name entirely if Dr. Humphry was so worried about it.

That drew a bit of a chuckle, and one of the men with a pinned up sleeve, stood from the table he was at. "We don't stand on ceremony much here anyway, ma'am." He looked down, "You've got quite a dog there."

"Oh yes," I gestured down to him, "This is Rigel, he's a great comfort to me and I thought he might be one for you as well." I walked further into the room, Rigel's great tail beginning to wag as the first few men offered their hands to be smelled before petting him. "He's very gentle, would anyone mind if I let him off his leash?"

A chorus of no's sounded, and Rigel happily began to patrol the room and receive attention. The one armed man who had spoken first reached down and ruffled his ears. "Ah, aren't you a right old gent?" He straightened, looking to me. "Suppose I should introduce myself, Lieutenant Luke Collins, Hood Battalion."

Introductions were quickly made around the room, all of them sailors and a good deal of them not from Britain. Some were Canadian, some Australian, even a few were from New Zealand. I remembered Ada's request to be kind to the Anzacs and gave them a wide smile when they were introduced. I found myself in a chair offered by Lieutenant Collins, reaching into my bag. "Well, I happen to be from New York, but my husband is in the Royal Navy so I came over here to be near him." I drew the book out, setting it down before reaching for the box of chocolate. "I brought one of my favorite books and a treat for all of you."

The chocolate was met with gasps, and even the ones in bed sat up. One of them, his right eye hidden by bandages, licked his lips. "You brought that for us, ma'am?"

"Well, I can hardly eat it all myself." I teased, standing to bring him a bar. I didn't avoid looking at his bandages, but neither did I stare. I simply looked at him as I would look at anyone, and smiled when he whispered his thanks for the chocolate.

Each man was as giddy as a schoolboy to receive his own chocolate bar, and they fell back into their quiet talk while I read aloud. Some followed the story closely, even asking me to repeat a line, while other would cock their heads every now and then to listen in. All in all, it was a fairly relaxed atmosphere. None of the men were aggressive, and none tried to touch me.

The only thing that made me purse my lips was when a deck of cards was brought out, bets with bits of chocolate wrappers being made. Lieutenant Collins seemed to notice my reaction from behind the cards held in his remaining hand. "We won't play if the gambling upsets you, ma'am."

I shook my head, "Oh no, I don't mind at all."

"Would you care to join?" He gestured for me to sit next to him. "Or would you just like to watch?"

"I suppose I could play." I shrugged, coming to sit down and accepting a hand of cards and a pile of chocolate wrappers to bet. "My father-in-law explained the basics to me."

That led to chuckles, and I let them continue. I played poorly for the first few hands, watching how the others played. Some were aggressive, some were cautious, but the all treated my playing like a child had joined them. None of them were the equal of Will, Lights, or Samuel, and I was glad to finally have an excuse to put my lessons to good use.

I kept my bets small, did my best to avoid bluffing, and asked for advice multiple times. They indulged me, tried to play tricks on me, and laughed when I clapped my hands after I won my first hand. Slowly, ever so slowly, the pile of wrappers in front of my grew. That led to certain mutterings as the others found themselves out of the game, and I simply shrugged. "Beginner's luck, I suppose."

"Or you know more than you let on," Collins, after falling to another player had declared himself my guardian in the game, whispered from his seat behind me. "You're fleecing them."

I turned, whispering back. "Oh come now, you have to admit this is more fun than letting them run circles around me."

"I never said it wasn't."

"Shhh," I gently waved my hand. "This is the last hand." I smirked as I laid down my cards, collecting all the wrappers into my pile. That led to groans breaking out, accusations that Collins had coached me and that my winnings were going to be swiftly taken from me the next time I visited.

When I finally left, Rigel having been petted so thoroughly that his hair was standing every which way, Dr. Humphry caught up to me in the hall. "They seemed to have enjoyed your visit."

"I think they liked the chocolate and my dog more than anything." I shrugged, "And perhaps the card game."

"Would you will be willing to come by once a week?" He glanced back toward the room. "Some of them are being moved back home, but it would be good for those staying here for longer to have something to look forward to each week."

I smiled, thinking of what I would bring next week. "Of course, I'd be glad to. Would the hospital be amiss to me bringing them some whiskey? Just enough for a sip each, I won't be getting them drunk."

"Christ," He chuckled, "No wonder you get along with them, you're as bad as they are."

Captain Otto von Metternich stood in the conning tower of U-42, looking through his periscope at the sea above him. It was a typically stormy day in the North Sea, the view from the periscope obscured every now and then by a wave.

It wasn't enough to stop him from seeing the warships steaming away in the distance.

"A battlecruiser, with escorts." He muttered, stepping back so his second in command, Commander Föhn, could step up and take a look.

The man, younger than Otto, twisted the periscope around to take everything in. "I count four cruisers and eight destroyers as escorts." He looked over, light green eyes harsh in the electric lights. "We could cause a little havoc, sir."

"And get ourselves killed." Otto snapped, turning to the speaking tube that went down to the helmsman. "Dive down to thirty feet and plot a course back to Wilhelmshaven."

The helmsman's voice echoed up. "Wireless boys want to know if we should send word?"

"Not with the enemy there listening in." Otto called back, "Dive as soon as possible."

Otto had made for the ladder to head back down when he heard Föhn cough behind him, "A moment, sir?" Otto pursed his lips, but nodded. Föhn took a breath before continuing. "I feel I must protest this order, sir."

Otto raised a brow. "Protest?"

"Yes, sir." Föhn swallowed. "Most strongly."

"And why," Otto stepped closer, glaring at the man. "Do you feel you must strongly protest my order?"

Föhn's Adam's apple jumped. "Because it reeks of cowardice, sir."

"You think me a coward?" He stepped closer, looming over his commander as best he could. "And why might that be?"

To his credit, Föhn didn't back down. "We have the opportunity to damage the enemy and you refuse to consider it."

"His escorts would sniff us out before we could get close enough."

"But sir, a battlecruiser-"

"Yes, a battlecruiser!" Otto snorted, "Judging from her lines it's like Lion or her sister, and she is not some old, outdated cruiser lumbering along alone. She is fast, well-armed and escorted. Even if we surfaced among them, we would only have a brief chance to damage her before we were sunk. You think I should risk this entire boat for that slight chance?"

Föhn shook his head, "It's not only that sir, your conduct regarding the merchant ships is most distressing." His voice shook slightly, "Even before we were told to stick to cruiser rules you never strayed from them, you have one of the lowest kill counts in the fleet."

"And not wanting to cause needless deaths makes me a coward?" Otto turned away, unwilling to look at the man. "Allowing crews off their ships and directing them towards safety is cowardice? Before the war that was viewed as gentlemanly, rather than cowardly."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't do that, sir, it's a credit to your merciful nature."

"Is it mercy or cowardice, then?" Otto turned on him, "What exactly are you accusing me of?" Föhn quailed, ducking his head and Otto snorted. "I can report you for insubordination and have you face a court martial, Commander Föhn. But, in service of my merciful nature, I trust the point has been made and that will be unnecessary."

With that he climbed down the ladder, coming out in the largest space onboard, the cramped room below the conning tower. Men, sweaty and grease covered in their sodden clothing, looked at him. Otto had no doubt that they had heard everything, and drew himself up. "Would any of you care to question my orders?"

There was no response aside from the men clearing out his way.

It took everything Otto had to not slam the door to his small cabin when he entered, he had to remind himself that his men were already on edge enough. They were supposed to be the hunter, and yet he had ordered them to scurry home like rats. Was it his fault that when they had gone south they had run into submarine nets and destroyer patrols across the Channel? He had ordered them north to try and proceed around Scotland, only to run into the battlecruiser.

He rubbed his temples, searching for anything to distract him. Letters were crammed into his tiny desk and he grabbed one. It was from Frederich, and he sighed as he opened it. He loved his brother, but his brother hated his work and never missed a chance to bemoan his fate.

Dearest Otto,

Do not worry, I am still in Berlin. There has been discussion of visiting the front with Russia, but so far nothing has come of it. I still attend every meeting, aside from my brief trips home. Johann sends his love, as does Marta. She also sends along the love of their child, four months away! I always forgot how big their stomach gets, it has been so long since Sophie was born.

I worry about her, Otto. I know getting word from America is difficult, but I had hoped that we might hear something. I have asked a man to go to Hamburg and see if there are any Reichster ships in, she's smart enough to know to use them to send word to us. There may not be many ships in Hamburg, though, the blockade grows even tighter.

At least I know you share my distaste for the current conflict, as well as my entrenchment in it.

How can these general discuss casualty numbers like this without any remorse? Reports come in with tens of thousands injured and dead and are simply filed away. I spend my nights wondering about their families, if they feel pride or anger or just nothing at all. I remember feeling all of those when Father and Mother died, but what I remember most is the emptiness.

That emptiness stalks me, Otto, whispering to me in my sleep. There is no joy in my life, in my work, the only happiness is when I see you or visit Johann. I spend my days acting like a dancing monkey, fighting down my disgust with everyone around me. Cousin Wilhelm has grown particularly worse lately, seeing daggers in every shadow, which means that I have to be twice as sunny around him to avoid suspicion.

You must hate reading this, I hate writing it. Let us move onto happier matters. We must send something to Marta for the baby, next time you have leave, come to Berlin and we can go shopping. And then we can take the train home to see them, we can wander through the hills and eat that blackberry pie Marta makes. For just a few days, it will be as if none of this had ever happened.

Your overly sentimental brother,

-Frederich

Otto grinned as he set it down. He needed time away from the boat, away from Wilhelmshaven and the greasy diesel smoke that almost blocked the sun from the sky. Some time back home, walking through the forest and collecting berries like they were boys again. No men to question his orders, no running away, no leaving men to drown. It would be peaceful, and he welcomed it.

Ruth found herself getting dressed for a party, one that she did not particularly care to attend. Not that she cared to attend much nowadays, it galled her to see people acting as if there was nothing going on besides the play in front of them. If she was being honest, she didn't even know what this party was celebrating. Perhaps someone had gotten engaged, or bought a new house, or just felt like having a party. But the invitation had arrived at her house and she had to go.

Which meant she needed a new dress and had to sit and have her hair styled before being driven over. Ruth hadn't engaged with New York society much since the Lusitania, still working too much to distract her from worrying about Anastasia. Oh she still visited the Vanderbilts and the Moodys, and she had visiting hours twice a week for anyone to drop in, but mostly she was alone.

Not tonight though, for when she was handed out of the car, she was back among the swirl of socialites and tycoons that swept her up into the house with them. Everyone had a kind word for her, their joy that Anastasia was safe, questions about where she had been, and she smiled and answered every one. Some of them may have actually cared, in a shallow way, but at least they all knew they needed to treat her gently.

However, as she was entering the ballroom, Ruth saw someone she did not want to treat gently in the slightest.

Everyone was flocking around one man, and through a break in the crowd, Ruth could make out the long face of Woodrow Wilson, the lights glinting off his glasses. She pursed her lips, feeling a flame of anger lash through her. If he hadn't been so damn stubborn about neutrality then the war might have been over and her daughter home. Part of her wished that old Theodore Roosevelt was still in office, he wouldn't have said that their country was too proud and in the right to fight.

She let the flow of the party push her towards him, and waited as someone introduced her. Wilson gave her a smile and a nod, "Ma'am."

"Coward." She spat, "You should be ashamed of yourself!"

He drew back, and the crowd surged forward. Ruth could hear what they were all saying "Her daughter was on the Lusitania. She's not from New York, some backwater in Nebraska. Honestly, after she was on the Titanic you'd think she would behave better."

She didn't let that stop her, following Wilson as he walked through the crowd away from her. "I won't see my daughter for years because of you! If you're so goddamn proud, you would face me!" He was walking faster now, and the crowd was between them. "I'm not the only one who feels this way!"

A hand quickly wrapped around her wrist, and she whirled. Lieutenant Morris stood there in his formal uniform, a flush on his cheeks. "Mrs. Dalian, please."

"Morris," She looked away, suddenly ashamed of how she had been acting. "I'm sorry, it's just-"

"I understand." He nodded, letting her hand go. "Why don't we get a drink?"

Ruth walked with him, "How did you get an invitation?"

"My commander got one but he didn't want to come." Morris smirked, "I'm his replacement."

She patted his arm, "Well, you're a much better guest." He was kind enough to order their drinks, and Ruth drank half her champagne in one go. It only took a few more swallows for her to finish the glass, "Another?"

"So long as it doesn't lead to you punching the President." Morris muttered, collecting another glass for her. His voice was a whisper, "Is she coming?"

"I'm not sure." Ruth sighed, glancing over. "But she might be." Morris stayed by her side as they party continued, and soon enough her tirade at Wilson was forgotten as the other guests began whispering about her and her young companion. No doubt they assumed he was her lover, and he a greedy man who wanted a wealthy widow to take care of him. Ruth ignored the whispers, instead speaking to Morris about his work. She also dropped plenty of hints about a job waiting for him after he left the navy, a very well paid job.

She wanted him to work for her, for Morris knew his stuff. He was responsible, knowledgeable and personable. He could speak for an hour on how he arranged supplies for the Navy Yard but do it in a way that was entertaining for the listener. In short, he was exactly who she wanted to run her shipyard and design office. Well, it would soon be her shipyard, in a few years once she bought out the last shares.

But as much as she had her eye on him, his eyes were only on the delicate blonde that stepped into the ballroom with her husband. "Sophie."

She looked beautiful in a green gown, emeralds on her throat and her wrists. Zachary was all smiles as he greeted friends, shook hand, accepted drinks, and was drawn into the male comradery that occupied the smoking room. A few ladies greeted Sophie but made no efforts to draw her in. Ruth gently squeezed Morris's arm, "Find a room and wait, I'll get her."

Ruth made her way slowly through the crowd, taking her time to approach Sophie. When she touched her shoulder though, Sophie gave a genuine smile for the first time that night. "Mrs. Dalian, it's so good to see you!"

"Sophie," She smiled, "You look beautiful tonight." Ruth gently took her hand, "It's been too long, we need to catch up." Sophie walked with her as they moved through a few side rooms, although she stood stock still when they reached on. Ruth smirked, "Someone's been waiting to see you."

She burst into movement, hurling herself into his arms. "Morris!"

"Sophie!" He clutched her tight, and Ruth took the moment to close the door. The last thing they needed was for someone to see this happy reunion. At least if they opened the door they would have enough warning they would only find the three of them having a polite discussion. She risked a look, seeing the two of them caught up in a kiss that seemed to go on forever.

She gave a delicate cough, making the two jump apart. "I don't mind, but we probably don't have much time before people come looking."

"Oh, oh yes." Sophie turned to Morris, then glanced back to Ruth. "I, I have some news to share."

Morris reached for her, "Your brothers?"

"Safe, as far as I know." She drew in a breath, her hand dropping to her stomach. "But Morris, I'm pregnant."

He pursed his lips, but nodded. "Your husband must be very happy."

"He is," She reached over, brushing her hand over his face. "But it's your child."

Morris blinked several times, then fell into a chair. "Mine?"

Sophie sat on the arm, drawing his hand to her belly. "Yes, I'm absolutely sure it's yours."

Ruth watched as he traced her belly for a moment, then grabbed her hand. "Divorce him, marry me." A look of pure earnestness was glowing on his face, his eyes wide and begging. "I can support you, and we can have our baby together."

Sophie's face fell, "Morris, darling, that's impossible."

"Why?" His hand came up to cradle her head. "You don't want me?"

"Not at all, I would love nothing more than to marry you." She sighed, leaning into his touch. "I own nothing, everything belongs to Zachary."

"I earn enough to rent a place," He suddenly looked over, "Mrs. Dalian, would you take her in? I can find better work, something that pays more. We could get a house."

Sophie saved Ruth from having to reply, gently drawing Morris's gaze back to her. "Morris, sweetheart, it's not just the money. If I divorced Zachary, he'd keep Adam."

"That's not," He shook his head, clearly expecting someone to side with him. He looked to Ruth. "Would they?"

Ruth nodded, closing her eyes. "Women abandoning their husbands to marry their lovers isn't exactly looked upon kindly, the court would order Adam to stay with his father."

"Then what can we do?" He dropped his head, pressing it to Sophie's belly. "I don't want to lose you."

"And you won't." Sophie cradled his head, "We can continue meeting, and I'll trick Zachary into thinking it's his. He's foolish enough for that."

"You'll let him raise my child?"

Sophie pressed a kiss to his head, "They will know you Morris, I swear. I will raise them to be the opposite of Zachary. Kind, smart, witty, just like you."

They stayed like that for a moment more, making Ruth feel like an outsider. But Morris stood, slowly, pressing one last kiss to her lips before pulling away. "We should get back, your husband is probably looking for you."

"We'll meet again soon." Sophie kissed him again. "I don't want to go a week without seeing you."

"That can be arranged." Ruth reached for the door, opening it slowly to make sure no one was listening in. "But we do need to get back." Morris came back to her side reluctantly, and stared after Sophie as she went back through the crowd to Zachary. Ruth gently drew him away, "I am happy for the both of you, you know."

"Happy that my child won't know his father?" Morris snapped, "That the woman I love is married to a brute that she can't leave?"

"Can't leave for now." Ruth did her best to soothe him, "There may be some way for her to leave him in the future."

Morris sighed, shaking his head. "Mrs. Dalian, please, don't promise things that can't happen." He looked over to the bar, "I feel in need of something stronger than champagne, I'll be at the bar if you need me."

Ruth watched him go, desperately thinking of anything that could be done. There had to be some way for Sophie to divorce Zachary and keep Adam. Ruth would gladly house the both of them until Morris could find a place, she would pay him enough to be able to afford something suitable. She would consult with her lawyers, demanding complete discretion. The last thing she needed was for people to gossip that she was asking around on behalf of Anastasia.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice someone trying to get her attention until they grabbed her shoulder. She gave a gasp, "Oscar!"

"I called your name three times." He smirked, his brown curls tamed for the night. "Lost in thought?"

Ruth nodded, "I suppose so."

"Hopefully not too lost," Oscar reached into his jacket, drawing out a packet. "Otherwise you wouldn't be able to do a favor for an old friend."

She cocked her head, "And what might that favor be?"

"Nothing complicated, I just need you to take these letters to my parents and sister tomorrow afternoon." He held the packet out to her. "Please?"

That merited a raise of her brows. "Oscar, what are you doing?"

"Something I should have done a while ago."

Ruth grabbed his arm, her voice urgent. "You're not enlisting!"

"No, no," Oscar shook his head, putting his hand over hers. "But I won't be around for awhile. Just, please, take the letters."

"Oscar-"

"Ruth," He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. "For the love I bear your daughter, please. I need to do this."

She closed her eyes, nodding slightly. She knew Oscar loved Anastasia, that he had for years, and if he was asking her to do this it must be important to him. She took the packet, looking at him. Oscar was an utterly decent man, he cared for his family and his friends, and was devoted to those he loved. Whatever he had planned, he wouldn't ask this if it was just a whim. "Alright, Oscar."

He sighed, "Thank you."

"When do you leave?"

If he was shocked she had guessed his plans, he didn't show it. "Early in the morning, I'm going to call Mother and tell her I'm staying at the club tonight." He glanced to her. "You won't tell, will you?"

"No," She shook her head, "But Oscar, you're going to hurt them."

"I have no way to do the right thing and not hurt them." He dropped his head, shaking away some thought. "Ruth, if I had come back from Cambridge and asked you and Gareth for your permission, would you have given it?"

She sighed, "Yes, we would have. We both knew how much you loved her." She stepped closer, her voice low. "Will you check on her while you're there? She writes, but I do worry."

Oscar brought her hand up, kissing it. "Of course, so long as you stop Father from disinheriting me."

"I'll try, but he's going to be furious."

"Between you and Liz, I have total faith."