It quickly became apparent that no one else knew about whatever battle was about to ensue. When I told Kate I would be heading to Scotland and that I wasn't sure when I would return, she told me to enjoy my time with Will and she would keep an eye on things. Mr. Welton had me sign a few more papers before I left, Dr. Humphry asked for a few extra boxes of chocolate to cover my absence and wished me well. I didn't tell them, I had no doubt everything would come out in a few days and the last thing I needed was people wondering how I knew about everything beforehand. Not only would it cause trouble for me, but for Penelope.

I grimaced when I thought about her, then shoved her from my mind. I could deal with my feelings about her, and Oscar, later. First, there was someone I did need to tell. Sylvie and the children were more than glad to have Aunt Anna darken their doorstep, and a cup of tea was shoved into my hand before she even asked for the reason behind my visit. I took a sip, wishing she had slipped a little whiskey into it. "There's going to be some battle soon, and Will's going to be in it."

Sylvie immediately shooed the children and dogs outside, with strict instructions that they were to not let Rigel and Nana wrestle. Once they were gone, she sat next to me and wrapped me in her arms. "He'll be fine, you know. He's on such a big ship, and he has so many men who want him to stay safe."

I hugged her back. "I need to go though, to be there for him. Whatever way it turns out, I need to see him after this."

"It's been a long time since you've seen him."

"I last saw him for New Year's."

"Almost six months," She shook her head. "I'm sure that he'll come through this just fine, and after how long it's been they're bound to give him leave." She stood, drawing me up and placing her hands on my shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "You're going to go up there, get the house ready, and welcome him like a loving wife should." Sylvie smirked, "He'll be a war hero now, you know."

I tried to grin, "So long as he's alive, I don't much care about that." My grin didn't last very long though, the train to Scotland the next morning found me grim and ill-tempered. Rowan and Mr. Collins were coming with, and they both tried to cheer me up. But no talk about how much stronger the Royal Navy was than the Germans could make me smile, even Rigel couldn't get much more than a brief snort out of me.

When our cab took us across the bridge over the Firth and I saw it empty, it was all I could do to not start shaking in fear.

Once I had helped the men bring my trunks up to the bedroom, I gave them the freedom of the house, and of my purse in case they wanted to head into Edinburgh, and then shut myself up with only Rigel for company. With my arms around him and surrounded by the tartan bed hangings, I didn't have to keep my composure together. I could cry and whisper my fears into his ears, my fear that Will would die or be injured so badly he lingered in pain for months before slipping away. My fears that he would come home covered in glory and be miserable in his new role, or that he would leave me once I told him what I had done.

For since I had kissed Oscar, I had hated myself.

I had tried to rationalize it to myself once he had left, trying to convince myself that it was nothing. I had been drunk to try and forget the worst day of my life, he had been there and been kind and he had been so scared. But still, I had kissed a man who wasn't my husband and told him that I had loved him, once. And I had, oh, it was nothing like the love I had for Will, but it had been some kind of love. A simple love that saw the world as nothing but a rosy picture where everything would turn out right.

My love for Will was tainted by tragedy and war, but it was so much stronger that what I had once felt for Oscar. If I had married Oscar and he left for the war, I would never have followed him across the ocean. I would have kept being that sweet, simple socialite I had been before I met Will.

It made me laugh, in a bitter way, that I hated myself for the events with Oscar and yet the thought of him with Penelope rankled.

I had remembered her from the brief meeting at his house, bookish but with lovely eyes. She needed someone to help her with her clothing, and would likely never fully fit in to a New York party, and yet Oscar felt something for her. He didn't confess that he loved her, but that it was new. And it scared him. I couldn't fault him for that, for a change like that was frightening.

I suppose the only reason I hadn't been overwhelmed with fear when I realized I loved Will was simply because of all that had been going on around us. I had been watching him stay behind on a sinking ship, he fully prepared to die, and it had seemed silly to worry about my feelings then. The fact that I loved him had settled onto me like an old, well-worn coat. It hadn't started as a great world ending love, but simply as a statement. I loved Will, I wanted him in my life and my future. It had grown into a love that sent me racing across a warzone to him, a love that found me crying in our bed as I waited for news of what was going on.

The next day found me fretful, and not even Rowan exclaiming over the kitchen garden and giving me an in depth tour could lighten my mood. He eventually put me to work, finding a pair of gloves and having me begin weeding while he inspected the rosebushes around the property to ensure that they were in good health. I had to admit that it did feel good to do something with my hands, freeing the herbs and vegetables from the ensnaring weeds. It kept me from thinking about how there was nothing I could do, for what could I do? I couldn't send a ship out to find the Grand Fleet and see if Will was alive, I couldn't take wing and fly to him.

But I could pull weeds, and Rowan complimented me when he came back to see a freshly weeded garden. He even invited me to join him in his next task, applying fertilizer, but after a quick whiff I asked if we could do that tomorrow. Instead, I wanted to drive down to Rosyth and at least see if any ships had come back. Mr. Collins grumbled during the drive that it was unnecessary, that they wouldn't let me in or answer questions.

I think his jaw dropped when we exited the cab to find Mrs. Beatty leaving her own car. She blinked at me for a moment, "Mrs. Murdoch."

"Mrs. Beatty," I gave her a slight smile. "I suppose you're here for the same reason I am."

She swallowed, glancing toward the empty harbor. "I suppose I am. Would you care to join me?" I nodded, falling in step with her as the guards let us pass. After all, who was willing to risk the wrath of the Admiral's wife? She whispered to me as we entered the office building, "This is all a bit less frightening with someone with me."

"I would say so." I looked back to see Mr. Collins and Rowan trailing us, along with Mrs. Beatty's staff. "Have you heard anything?"

She shook her head, her steps leading us to her husband's office. "Not since they left." A gesture from her paused our retinue outside the Admiral's office while we stepped inside. "How did you know?"

"A friend learned about it and told me." I shrugged, "I assume your husband told you."

"He did." She moved to his desk, clear of papers and looking for all the world as if it had never been touched. "Damn foolish that he did. As if I wouldn't worry myself sick over him."

I looked through the windows, wishing that I could see even a hint of smoke on the horizon. "I don't think they realize how much we worry."

"Of course they don't." Ethel snorted, pulling a pair of crystal glasses and a bottle of whiskey from an unlocked drawer. "All they think about is their precious war."

I was about to speak when the door flew open, a disheveled officer standing there. "Mrs. Beatty, as I have said before you cannot-" He stopped short, looking to me. "And who are you?"

Ethel, a glass of whiskey in her hand, came around the desk and drew herself up, an accusing finger pointed at him. "You don't need to worry about who she is, and as for if I can be here, I should like to see you take that up with my husband when he gets back!"

The officer held up his hands, "Mrs. Beatty, really, I need you to leave." His face was quite red, "If your husband finds out I let you in here there'll be hell to pay."

"And I need to know if my husband is alive." Ethel almost towered over the man. "I know you have your little rats in that room in here, tapping away on those wireless machines. Simply go down there and bring me word that David is alive after whatever battle they had." She glanced to me, "And bring word of Captain Murdoch too, then we'll leave."

His gaze flicked between us quickly, and with a muttered curse he turned on his heel and left. I moved to the desk, pouring myself a glass of whiskey and looking at Ethel. I could almost hear her grit her teeth, "I know what you're thinking." She turned, her whiskey swirling. "How can I care so much about Davey if I have a stable of lovers I keep, right?"

The thought had occurred to me, but I simply shrugged. "I was simply impressed with how you dealt with that man."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "That was easy, the junior ones are so scared of offending me that browbeating them is hardly a difficult task." Ethel quieted, her eyes bright. "I do love Davey, I do, but I can't help myself. And neither can he, so I suppose we're the best each of can do, even if we do drive each other mad."

I wanted her to keep talking, because it kept me from thinking about Will and that I might know his fate soon. "So long as you do love each other, I suppose some things can be forgiven."

"Davey forgives a lot," She mumbled, rubbing a hand across her eye. "As do I." Despite my wishes she grew quiet, joining me at the window. It felt as if we waited there an eternity, even though I knew it was only a few minutes before the junior officer came rushing back in. She glared at him over her shoulder. "Well?"

"We've intercepted messages from Admiral Beatty and Captain Murdoch," He was doing his best to stand straight. "Due to their confidential nature I cannot reveal the contents, but they were sent by both men so by all accounts they should be fine." He glanced over his shoulder, "Will you please leave, ma'am?"

Ethel held up her glass, clearly ignoring how I was having to stifle a sob. "After we finish our drinks, now out." She waited until the door closed before turning to me, "Deep breath."

"I was so worried." I drew in a shaky breath, "How do you do it?" Ethel allowed me a few minutes to collect myself. There were no sobs, but I could not breathe easy until I took another drink of whiskey. Then I could breathe, and I allowed myself a smile. Will was alive, and I had no doubt he was returning.

I would see him.

"Because Davey runs off and gets himself into these situations all the time." She shook her head, "I've fortunately been able to receive good news after each of them."

I found my gaze drawn from the horizon to the town, thinking about the other women in our situation but that they didn't even know yet. "So many others won't have good news though."

"No, they won't." Ethel sighed, setting her empty glass down. "I suppose we should do something for them. It's a tradition for there to be a widows and orphans fund, perhaps once everything comes to light I'll start one."

I finished the rest of my drink, raising a brow. "You'd do that?"

"Why not?" She shrugged, then grinned. "It would be nice to have people gossiping about me doing something positive for once."

Will knew he didn't sleep the whole night after the battle, it was only a few hours, but he was groggy when he returned to the bridge. He spelled Nettles, who was practically asleep on his feet, but there was no need for them to have had such a short amount of sleep. Come dawn, there was no sign of the High Seas Fleet and after one final sweep, they headed for home. He set Tyne and the others to corroborating their logs and records to try and make sense of how the battle had gone. During their cruise back to Rosyth, a picture began to emerge.

It was not a pretty one.

They'd lost more ships than the Germans had, and Will was sure that meant they had lost more men. They had stumbled into a German trap and had barely emerged. It would take a smarter man than Will to discern if anything had some of this, but he at least knew one thing. He had sunk one ship, Ives was sure of it. After consultation with the intelligence officers, Ives had presented their findings. "It was the Seydlitz, sir, they're sure of it."

Will looked down to the sketch of the battlecruiser they had placed in front of him, trying to match it to the dark hulk he had barely made out in the night. "She looks new."

"She was, sir." The intelligence officer traced a finger over the sketch. "We would value her the same as Tiger or Lion."

"A good blow, then." Tyne grinned. "And struck by us."

"Not alone." Ives pulled out his notes. "I couldn't track exactly which ships damaged her, but she was barely afloat when we got her."

The intelligence officer sniffed, "Most of the crew had probably evacuated then, won't make the papers any happier." The meeting had broken up after that, and when they had reached Rosyth, the Unicorn had been assigned a dock berth while she waited for her turn at repairs. There were ships in more desperate straits though, so it would be some time.

Will sent his intelligence officer off with the report they had compiled of their performance in the battle, and then there was nothing left to do but wait. Engineers crawled over every inch of the Unicorn, noting down what would need to be repaired once a drydock slip opened up. Papers made their way in from outside, one day despairing a defeat and the next day calling the battle the greatest victory since Trafalgar.

And the men he had rescued made their way to an actual hospital.

Will had visited them once it had been clear that there was to be no more battle, if only to see how many he had been able to save. The surgeon gave him the numbers quietly, fifty-three men had been pulled from the water, but only thirty had survived. The lost had been moved, respectfully, to await their traditional burial at sea on the trip home, but the living wanted to see him.

He had been uncomfortable with the way they had all wanted to shake his hand, tears in their eyes as they thanked him for coming back. It had been worse when he presided over the funerals, their chaplain repeating himself twenty-three times as each man, sewn into a hammock and weighted down, was slid over the side. Will watched each one splash and sink to the depths, wondering if they would have lived if things had played out differently.

It was good that so much had to be done once they had returned, it had kept him from thinking about the possibilities and now that they were gone, he found he was able to focus more.

He didn't regret saving them, but having them around was a constant reminder of what could have been. It was easier to throw himself into discussions with the engineers, debate the papers with his officers, and send off wires to Ana. It had been the first thing he had done when they reached port, and it had taken time. Thousands of men had swarmed the wireless offices, all of them looking to do the same thing.

But he had gotten his message out, and received his reply.

It hadn't been from Ana though, but Sylvie. She's in Scotland, waiting for you at your house. Go see her, she needs you.Will had looked out to the town beyond the base when he had gotten that, wondering if Ana was one of the women that crowded around the fences, hoping to see their man. If she was, he didn't see her.

A wire to their house had received a reply from her though. Come home to me, husband. Will had debated when he could best approach Beatty, who it seemed was busier than ever. His first requests went unanswered, but finally a junior officer came running to say that Admiral Beatty would like to see him, immediately.

Sharpe had made sure his uniform was pressed, and Will gave his best salute when he entered the Admiral's office. "Sir."

"Leave off with that, sit." Beatty waved him towards the chair. "I hardly have time for formalities."

Will sat, placing his hat across his knees. "You must be busy, sir."

"I am, and all because of that damn Jellicoe!" Beatty stood at that, pacing. "You saw how he held back, he could have run those dreadnoughts faster and come to our aid. We could have had the whole German fleet!" Will knew better than to interject, for Beatty did not want any opinions. He wanted someone to listen to every bit of venom he had to spit, and so Will sat.

His own opinions were not asked, nor did he offer them. Eventually Beatty finally seemed to run out of steam, dropping back into his chair. "Honestly, I don't see how things could have gone worse."

He shifted in his chair, "We could be dead, sir, so at least there's that."

Beatty barked out a laugh, "True, and our wives would still torture my staff." At Will's look of confusion, he smirked. "You didn't know? I would have thought she'd written you about it. Your wife, and my Ethel, browbeat one of my staff into checking our wireless messages to ascertain if we had made it."

Will felt himself flush. "I'm sure they were just concerned."

"They were, as were you." Beatty raised a brow, "Did you think I wouldn't notice the men being unloaded from your ship and taken to the hospital? From what I remember from the reports, you lost less than ten dead and fifteen wounded, yet far more than that were removed from the Unicorn."

Will looked away, "Sir, I can explain."

"I know you can, I figured out your little 'engine trouble' scheme fairly quick." Beatty settled back in his chair, "Oh, stop hanging your head. I'm not angry with you about it." Will looked up at that, seeing Beatty giving him a soft smile. "Given what happened to you with Titanic, I'm surprised you didn't stop to pick up more. I can't imagine it was easy for you, seeing all those men in the water."

He swallowed, shaking his head. "No, sir."

"You did what you could, and came back to do your duty. No man can blame you for that." Beatty pulled out a set of glasses, pouring them both whiskey. "But if someone comes sniffing, I can't just tell them to sod off. I need some way to show them that you were punished, even if it only seems that way to them."

He took a sip of his drink, "I'll gladly take whatever punishment you decree."

Beatty slid a paper across his desk, "There's your punishment, leave for a month or as long as it takes until your ship is battle ready again." He smirked at Will's dumbfounded expression, "Go, play the hero, make love to your wife. You deserve all of that, and no one will know that it's a punishment. I won't even note it in your file, as far as anyone will know this is simply a well deserved rest."

Will took the paper, standing. "Thank you, sir."

"Now, get out of here before people come asking." Beatty waved him away, and Will could barely stop himself from skipping back to his ship. He found himself hoping that the Unicorn was last in line for any repairs, for it meant longer with Ana. Back in his cabin Will barely paid attention to anything but packing, giving brief orders to Nettles to begin issuing everyone else leave in rounds. The only thing he had to contend with was Sam, who seemed determined to twine around his ankles and trip him up.

Will had set him on his desk, admonishing him. "You cannot come, Rigel would eat you up in an instant." He shifted his bag, throwing the silver model of the ship in. "Besides, you have a guest to entertain until someone claims him." One of the men from Queen Mary had been pulled aboard clutching a very wet, and very angry, tomcat, imaginatively named Tom. Tom had been given free run of the ship, and Sam had been unhappy about that.

Will had no doubt the two would come to get along, but he was not going to sit here and supervise the assimilation. He was going to Ana, and when he got out of the cab at their house, he was surprised that she wasn't waiting on the front step. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by the sight of two maimed men in his parlor.

He knew them from her letters, one armed Mr. Collins and Rowan, trying to hide his burns. He nodded to the both of them, "I'm going to assume you know who I am."

"Captain Murdoch," Collins nodded back. "She'll be thrilled to see you."

Will set his bag down, "Where is she?"

"Out back, by one of the rosebushes. Reading." Rowan glanced towards the back of the house, "I can fetch her, if you like."

"I'll surprise her," Will grinned, thinking how much she would like that. "But, ah, if you two wouldn't mind finding somewhere else to stay." He didn't imagine it would be a quiet night, and the last thing he wanted was those two listening. "I'll gladly foot the bill."

Collins smirked, and Will was fairly sure Rowan blushed. The two agreed quickly, and Will had the cab that had brought him take them wherever they wanted. Rigel, after tackling him when Will had stepped into the kitchen, happily followed him upstairs. Will left his bag with Ana's trunk, and locked Rigel in the room. He didn't want anyone to spoil his surprise.

Will brushed off his uniform, set his hat upon his head, and stepped out to see his wife. The roses had bloomed recently, their petals unfurling and perfuming the air with a heady scent. He slowly made his way down the lawn, for he could already see her. She had thrown a blanket down by one of the bushes, the sun shining on her and the rose petals that had blown onto the blanket. Her gold hair curled around her shoulders, falling down her back in a wave that he wanted to caress. Perfectly curved pink lips smiled slightly while elegant fingers flipped pages, deep, brown eyes reading quickly.

The only thing that spoiled what could have been a perfect, Romantic painting was the fact that his wife was reading a thick history book instead of a classic romance.

She flipped a page, then stretched, her arms high over her head. One eye opened, finding him. Her voice was like music to his ears, "You're here."

"I am," He stepped forward, all but falling onto his knees as he joined her on the blanket. "And I'm not leaving for a long time."

She embraced him then, her arms strong as she held him to her. "I missed you, so much."

He pressed his face to her breast, not caring that it upset his hat. For Ana was here, she was warm and alive and he was in her arms. He didn't care that tears slipped from his eyes to wet the shirtwaist she was wearing. Ana was here, he was alive, it was all right. "I love you, Ana. I don't ever want to be apart from you."

He thought her voice might have held a sob to it, but she hid it well. "I'm not leaving."

Will watched as her fingers came up, intent on unbuttoning her shirtwaist. He stilled them, bringing them to his lips. "Later, love. All I want right now is to hold you." And, with his wife curled around him and her fingers in his hair, he finally let himself relax. The sun was shining, the woman he loved was holding him, and what did it matter if Britain had won or lost a battle? He was still alive, and so was she.

That was all that mattered.