Sophie sat sullenly, a piece of ice in a napkin held to her cheek. It still stung from where Henry had slapped her. After the news about the Lusitania had come in, Zachary had wanted to stay and celebrate. His father had indulged in the champagne a bit, and cigars had been brought out at some point. Samantha had left, fluttering off to speak to her friends about what was going on.

It would have been wonderful to leave, to get out of this house for a minute, but Zachary refused to let her leave. In fact, Sophie was rather sure that he had a servant follow her when she visited the water closet earlier. She had barely spoken since the slap, although much hadn't been asked of her.

It did mean that she had a good view when the butler came in to announce a visitor, Frank Reading from the Journal. "He's come to bring you the news before it goes to print."

"See him in." Henry nodded, then turned and raised an eyebrow at his son.

Zachary stalked over, hissing in her ear. "Turn away from him so he doesn't see that you had to be disciplined."

Sophie bit her tongue, turning her head to the side so her reddened cheek was hidden as Reading was brought in. She could still see him though, and the deferential nod he gave Henry. "Mr. Reichtster, my apologies for a slight delay. It has been a most eventful day."

"Indeed." Henry gestured to one of the leather chairs. "Please, join us. Anything to drink, or perhaps a cigar?"

"Well, who am I to refuse your hospitality?" Reading chuckled, and a servant quickly brought him a glass of whiskey. Sophie snorted when she saw him pour from the cheap bottle, and the cigar was not from Henry's personal humidor. Reading sipped his drink and took a few puffs before speaking again. "I've been keeping an ear out on the matter you sent your man to inquire about."

"And?"

Reading sighed, "A blonde woman was seen getting off a boat in Queenstown, with a giant black dog. She sent telegrams to New York, Southampton and Portsmouth. I managed to get her name, it's Mrs. Murdoch."

Zachary cursed, standing. He wobbled for a moment before grabbing the back of his chair. "It can't be that damn woman, it can't! Your source must be mistaken."

"My source is accurate." Reading calmly sipped his drink. "The same words will be in every paper in New York soon enough. She'll pass out of the papers soon though; the focus is always on the lost and no one has spotted Alfred Vanderbilt. Some are already waiting outside his house to question his widow."

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose. "My thanks, Mr. Reading. Your usual payment will be supplemented." He stood, nodding towards the door. "If you do not mind, I will need to speak to my son."

"Of course, I need to get my write up done anyway. Paul will wring my neck if I don't have it turned in soon." Reading gave them a slight bow before heading out.

Sophie already had a grin on her face before Henry's face fell. "Why won't she just die?" He spat, turning to the bar. "It would have been so much simpler with her dead. Christ, I may have to arrange things now." He whirled on Zachary, "We could have avoided all of this if you hadn't been so damn stupid!"

"Stupid!" Zachary sprang to his feet, and Sophie took to hers. She knew how these arguments got. Zachary looked like he was about to take a swing at his father. "I did everything you asked for, it's not my fault she's a prude and an idiot!"

"You pushed her too far!" Henry was getting red in the face and Sophie inched towards the door. Her fingers were around the knob, twisting it gently in her hand. Henry was fairly growling. "You know you needed to be gentle!"

She was halfway out the door when Zachary threw his chair, shattering the bottles in the bar and the mirror behind them.

Morgan was fluttering around Ruth, having attached herself like a barnacle after Ruth had called on her. The Fields house had been set all aflutter at the news, although Ruth was glad that all of the menfolk happened to be out. God only knows what Abraham or his sons would have done, she was already worried that Ezekiel would have taken his ship over to Ireland and not come home until he found Anastasia.

Morgan put a cup of coffee in front of Ruth, "You need to drink this."

"I do not need whatever alcohol you put in that." Ruth muttered, sliding the mug away. "I can't be drunk right now, Morgan."

"Well, I'm not drinking if you're not, Ruth. And I can't be sober right now." Morgan reached for the mug, clearly considering it. "How do you stand this? I feel like I'm going to faint from the worry."

"By reminding myself everything that I told Anastasia to do." Ruth pursed her lips. "I told her if she was going to do this, she was going to do it safely."

Morgan, by now sipping the spiked coffee, settled onto the desk. "She's not a stupid girl, you know," She chuckled, "Just deeply in love with her husband."

Ruth sighed, about to remark about there was a difference between love and stupidity when the office door burst open, Adam standing there with a telegram in his hands. Ruth's hands shook slightly, "Anastasia?"

"Alive!" He almost crowed, shoving the telegram in her hand. "Alive and safe, in Ireland! She promises to send more word, read it yourself!" He didn't give her a chance though, for he drew both her and Morgan into his arms and spun them around the office. "Alive, alive, alive! She didn't even lose the damn dog!"

Morgan was laughing, tears clearly on her cheeks. "Mr. Keller, this is unbecoming of a manager you know!"

"Oh I don't care!" Ruth felt tears on her own cheeks. "But put me down so I can read!"

He did, mumbling that he was going to fetch some champagne. Ruth tore the telegram open, a bit too forcefully but she could hold the two pieces together to read the full message. It may not have been in Anastasia's hands, but it was her words.

Mother,

I am alive, as is Rigel. A fishing boat picked us up and dropped us in Queenstown. I've some money to get to Southampton, and I told Mr. Welton I will pull on our accounts here if needed. I will send a letter back on one of our ships once I reach Southampton and have recovered somewhat. Please, let the Vanderbilts know that Alfred didn't make it. He died bravely, as a gentleman.

You were right, I should have stayed.

Anastasia

Ruth drew in a shaky breath. Anastasia was alive, and she would wire Ezekiel and Abraham that they were both to ascertain her exact health once they reached Southampton. But Alfred, oh the Vanderbilts would be crushed by that. Three boys left behind, two children and a young man now without a father. A wife without her husband, a fellow widow.

She set the telegram down, not even bothered when Morgan snatched it up to read. Instead, she drew on her gloves. "I need to call on the Vanderbilts."

Morgan's eyes were still following the type of the telegram. "They're going to be devastated."

"It's better than being held in suspense." Ruth muttered, remembering her fruitless search for Gareth that cold April day. "You're welcome to stay and enjoy the champagne."

"I'll tell Adam to bring it to your house." Morgan snorted, hugging her. "We'll celebrate in style tonight. I take it you won't mind if I bring the girls?"

"You know I won't."

Elizabeth Moody, née Vanderbilt, stalked the halls of her childhood home, clutching the skeleton key she had browbeat the butler into giving her. Her parents were downstairs with Mrs. Dalian and James, preparing to visit Margaret and offer her their condolences and support after the loss of her husband. There was an undercurrent of joy though, for Anastasia was alive and Ruth couldn't keep the smile from her face even as she told them that Alfred was dead.

The only thing that had spoiled the moment was the lack of her brother, apparently having put such a fright in the servants that no one was willing to fetch him. She wasn't frightened though, for all his bluster Oscar was about as dangerous as a Teddy bear when confronted by his sister. She didn't even knock, simply unlocking the door and stepping inside.

Liz pinched her nose at the acrid scent of vomit filling the room. The curtains had all been drawn, the lights doused and the darkness felt almost heavy. She tried moving forward, only to bump into a chair and decide that whatever darkness Oscar desired was foolish. She turned the electric lights on, revealing that her brother's sitting room was an utter mess.

Furniture had been upended, pictures uneven and books had been flung across the room. Nothing had been broken though, even in a rage Oscar was far too fastidious to risk damaging his possessions. She stepped carefully around the mess, moving towards the bar. A heavy breathing was coming from behind it, and she knew her brother was back there.

Liz pursed her lips when she saw him. His hair and clothes were disheveled, his face blotchy and he mumbled slightly in his sleep. Liz wrinkled her nose when she saw the contents of the champagne bucket near him, and she couldn't help but pinch it when she saw the picture that Oscar clutched in his hands.

The picture, of him standing behind Anastasia like the proud suitor he once had been, was usually on his bedside. But now it was clutched in his arms, the glass smudged by fingers. She bit her lip, seeing the empty bottles of whiskey on the floor and when she looked over, she saw the shattered crystal of a snifter.

She drew back her skirts, fashionably straight as opposed to the full ones that Anastasia favored, and delicately kicked her brother in his rump. "Get up!"

The hand not clutching the picture weakly waved and he mumbled something. So, she kicked him again. "Get up Oscar! Now!"

He twisted, moaning slightly. Liz leaned down, grabbing the mass of brown curls on his head. "Wake up, you stupid drunk!"

That got him to at least open an eye. "L-Liz?"

"Yes, you idiot." She let go of his hair, patting his cheeks with a bit more force than was needed. "What in the world did you do to yourself?"

He blinked, slowly sitting up. "Anastasia, she's dead. She's dead and I can't do anything." He heaved, reaching for the bucket and sending Liz scrambling backwards. He retched a few times, but shoved the bucket away. "Nothing came up."

Liz sighed, scooting closer. "She's not dead, Oscar. She sent her mother a telegram. She's alive."

A transformation seemed to come over Oscar, his eyes wide and the start of a smile. "She's alive?"

"Yes," Liz reached for a bar rag, using it to rub his face. "But she said cousin Alfred died."

"Oh," Oscar didn't sound very sad. "That's awful. But you're sure she's alive?"

Liz tossed the rag in his face. "God, you can't be like this when we get downstairs!"

"Like what?"

"Like a lovesick puppy! Oscar, I've known for years you love her, but you can't let anyone else know." Liz pursed her lips, "And you need to put that picture away before the servants come in to clean up."

He looked down to the frame, tracing his finger over Ana's face. "You know I love her?"

"It's rather obvious." She snorted, "I'm surprised William doesn't."

He winced, "Actually, he does."

"What?"

"He asked me that if something happened to him, he wants me to marry her. He doesn't want her to be alone."

Liz stood, groaning. "Oh, you stupid men!" She drew her foot back, only changing her target at the last moment from his leg to some of the bottles. "So, you've been sitting here hoping for him to die!"

"I would never! It would hurt her too much!"

"Oh, I am going to slap William when I see him again." Liz grumbled, holding her hand out and pulling her brother to his feet. "Leaving you here to torture yourself, honestly, how could you both be so foolish?" She didn't even give him time to speak, "Now I'm going to have to clean you up and get your downstairs before we all go see Margaret. And you're cleaning that bucket by the way! Honestly Oscar, your suit is all wrinkled. Good God, Mother is going to throw a fit when she hears what you've done."

"Don't tell her Liz, please."

"I will unless you're fully ready to express your sorrow to Alfred's widow in thirty minutes!"

Will appreciated Nettles, he really did. The man was competent, not afraid to speak up to his captain, and dutiful. He knew his work, and he wasn't afraid to confront men when it wasn't done up to his standards. He made a good chief officer, and the two of them made a good team.

Currently, Will wanted to stab him.

Nettles seemed to have taken it into his mind that unless he was constantly around Will, his captain was going to make a run for Liverpool and get himself in trouble. When Will woke groggily in the middle of the night, the whiskey had left his mouth dry, he almost walked right into him. Nettles had drawn a chair up outside his door, and when Will had mumbled something about a glass of water, he had called for Sharpe to bring one while Will went back to bed.

In the morning, the very late morning, he ensured that Will took several aspirin with his breakfast, and Nettles took the other handle of his trunk. Two of the juniors carried Nettles' trunk, and Will shared a car to the train station with his chief.

And then he shared a bench on the train with him.

And then a cab to his house.

Will was confronted by a pile of telegrams on his entry table, all from family and friends asking after Ana. He had been so excited that she was coming that he had told everyone he could. Now they were all worried that she was dead and he was alone again. He sorted through them, he could reply to his family the next day, but there was one that made Will pause.

Will, please send word about Aunt Anna. The boys are beside themselves and Bertie can't sleep.

-Sylvie

He moved to his telephone, ignoring the fact that Nettles was very clearly preparing to spend the night on the settee. It took a few minutes, but eventually there was a ringing that was cut off by a well-known voice. "Hello?"

"Sylvie," He spoke calmly into the receiver. "It's Will."

"Oh my God, have you heard anything?"

God, he was smiling so wide she could probably see it through the telephone. "She's alive, she sent a telegram. She's making her way here with Rigel."

"Oh, thank you Lord." Sylvie muttered a quick prayer under her breath. "Do you know when?"

"Sometime in the next few days."

"She won't have anything; I'll go through my things and bring over some clothes until you can take her shopping."

Will felt his heart squeeze. "Thank you, that's very kind of you. You said Lights was there?"

"Oh yes, he got a week of leave from Scapa Flow. Got here yesterday, just in time for all the news to come in. He took the boys to the cinema; they all needed a distraction. They'll all be so thrilled."

"Well, bring all of them over when you bring the clothes. I'd love to see all of them."

"Of course, Will. We're all so happy, you know."

"I am too, Sylvie." He mumbled his farewell, and hung the receiver up before turning to his settee. Nettles had piled the pillows up at one end, and was shaking out a blanket from his trunk. Will raised an eyebrow. "Don't you have a wife to go home to?"

"Oh yes," Nettles grinned, letting the blanket settle over the cushions. "And a boy and a girl. They won't mind me missing a couple days, not if it's to keep you from going off on some harebrained scheme."

"I won't be." Will growled, "She said she's coming here. Go home, at least for the nights."

Nettles hesitated, "Sir, I can't risk it."

"Phillip, I won't be leaving the house tonight." Will reached down, grabbing the blanket and beginning to fold it. "Go home to your wife and children, and if you insist on supervising me, come back in the morning."

"Sir-"

"I can order it, if needed."

That made him crack a smile, and Nettles nodded. A cab was called, Will helped him load his trunk and sent him off with a wave. Will sighed as he turned to look at his house. If Ana was coming, he needed to take an inventory. He started with the garage, checking on the car under the dust sheets and the storage and work rooms. Everything seemed in order there, and he moved onto the house.

Kate had been keeping up with the cleaning at least, although when he checked the pantry, it was rather bare. He shrugged, that was rationing at work. He bit his lip; Ana would have to suffer through the rationing. Still, at least she would have food. Ruth could always send over foodstuffs for them, Kate would no doubt be thrilled to have something beyond rationing to take home. Will wouldn't begrudge her that, not with her brothers, sisters and her parents all stretching their rations thin.

He checked the rooms, pleased with her care of them as well. He would have to leave her a large tip, she really was too good to keep everything here clean and ready for him. When he reached his room, he considered his wardrobe. Unfortunately, he didn't have anything of Ana's for her. But she'd worn trousers before, and between those and Sylvie's loaned clothing, she would be fine.

Will fell asleep thinking of taking Ana shopping, decking her ridiculous clothes that he stripped off her at home.

Nettles, knocking on the door at an ungodly hour, woke him up and Will was poking at his breakfast when a telegram fluttered through the mail slot. Nettles chuckled at the way Will dove for it, scrambling on his knees. "Sir, hurting yourself won't please your wife."

Will ignored it, tearing open the telegram and reading it aloud. "Boarding ferry to Liverpool from Dublin, will wire when I'm in London."

Nettles whistled, "She's going to be exhausted, the Irish Sea, Liverpool, rail to London and then down here."

Will could only nod, thinking of his lackluster pantry. "She's going to be hungry, and I'm not much of a cook. Even if I did have plenty to cook with."

"Well, we can always take some bowls and go down to a pub. They've probably got a stew they won't mind giving us." Nettles moved to the kitchen, coming back with a couple of bowls and napkins. Will had to admit that walking through town did feel nice, and after Nettles spun the girl at the pub a sob story about Ana, she gave him a double helping of a beef stew for half the price. With napkins covering the bowls, they took the long way back and Will's stomach was growling when they put them in the ice box.

But then the mail slot clanged shut, and he hurtled towards it. He hastily read the telegram, turning to Nettles. "She's coming! She'll be here in a couple of hours."

"Go clean yourself up." Nettles chuckled, "Ladies do love a man in uniform, rather than a disheveled waistcoat. We'll get something to eat on the way to the station."

Will took his time, even giving himself a quick wash with a rag. He didn't want to appear slovenly, not in front of Ana. So, he brushed his hair, buttoned his jacket and set his cap just so on his head. Nettles was still in the plain suit he had worn that morning, and seemed to find it amusing how Will was fussing in the cab. "You know getting to the train station won't get her there any faster."

"I know."

"So, we're hitting a pub, hopefully a pint will settle you." Nettles chuckled, giving the driver directions for the Anchor and Star. It was crowded, but Will's rank quickly had a few men clear away from a table. He didn't even ask; they'd simply offered him their seat.

Will flushed as they elbowed their way to the bar. "They didn't need to do that."

"You're a captain, it has its benefits." Nettles rolled his eyes, and then gave their order. A couple of pints, and two orders of fish and chips appeared shortly. "Can't have you falling over exhausted when you see her."

Will nodded his thanks, swallowing the bite of fish he had taken. "Thank you for this Phillip, I know I haven't been easy."

Nettles shrugged, "Easier than my wife, she almost tore my ear off when I told her I had to keep an eye on you."

"I'm sorry I've been a problem."

"She just doesn't want me to be away from the house." He shook his head, "I'll be spending the rest of my week with her, a few hours today won't kill her." The rest of the meal passed relatively quickly, although Will's eyes kept flashing to the clock on the wall. What if her train was delayed? Or what if it came quicker and he wasn't there? Christ, why were they still at the pub? Will should have been at the station by now.

His concerns must have shown on his face, for Nettles paid their tab and tossed him into a cab after telling the driver to take him to the station and wait for Will and his wife to come out. Will almost bounced on his seat, and when the cab stopped at the train station, he bolted out the door. He lingered out the front for a moment, seeing by the station clock that there was still some time before Ana's train would arrive. He ducked into the telegram office next door, writing out responses to his family to waste a little time.

Da,

Please read this to everyone. Ana survived, she's on her way here. I'll send a letter after she settles in, and I'm sure she'll want to send one too.

Will

He sent off a few more in the same vein, and then it was time. Will had to push against the flood of soldiers and sailors streaming out of the train station. Some of them were smiling, as if the war was a lark, and some were grim faced. But none of them were as grim as he was, straining his eyes for any flash of long, blonde hair. A frazzled porter gave him directions to the platform where the latest London train had arrived, and he had to fight against the tide of passengers to get there. Women were in the crowd now, and he almost grabbed one lady when he saw her blonde hair, but she had called out to a friend and moved off.

And then he saw his wife.

Her clothes hung limply on her, salt stained, her hair was a tangled mess that fell down her back to her waist, and her hands were twisted around the leash of the large black dog that panted by her knee. Rigel gave a loud bark just as Will called out, "Ana!"

She turned, Rigel already straining against the leash and pulling her along. "Will?"

Her eyes were filled with tears, and then his wife flung herself into his arms.