Ruth fretted over her desk, flipping through a few dozen papers that were spread across it. Statements from her factories, her shipyards, her clients, and reports from Britain. It was the latter that concerned her the most, because they always mentioned Anastasia. She hadn't demanded that Welton write her about her daughter's activity, but she had mentioned in her letters that it would give her great comfort to know what her daughter was doing.

If Anastasia ever found out Ruth could say with a clean conscience that she had never asked Welton to spy, only to monitor.

He wrote glowingly about Anastasia's efforts at the company, her new venture at the hospital, and the charity she was doling out to family and friends. Her daughter had written a rather ashamed letter asking for more food to be sent over for her, and it was only with Welton's explanation that she figured out it was because her daughter had begun giving it away.

According to him she was supporting the Lightollers, William's family, the girl who looked after the house, and the men in the hospital ward she visited. Ruth had smiled when she had read the list, she was proud that her daughter was helping so many but she shouldn't do it at the expense of herself. It was no hardship for Ruth to include extra crates of food, Ezekiel never minded.

What was a hardship was the copy of a statement from their bank in England, detailing a purchase of a house in Edinburgh. Anastasia had apparently decided to be closer to William, although the bank statement also included money withdrawn for partial wages for staff, so she wouldn't be there all the time.

Ruth was glad for that, although she was still going to write her daughter a sternly worded letter. She didn't care about the money, Anastasia barely touched the British accounts, but the papers had been decrying the actions of German zeppelins. And Ruth could think of no better target than one of Britain's largest naval bases, with her daughter playing housewife right beside it.

Anastasia needed to be careful, the Germans were quite clearly not respecting the role of civilians, as she should know! The Lusitania and the attacks on Scarborough had only been months ago, James was still concerned about his family there. Not to mention what had happened in Belgium, according to the papers.

A cold breeze ruffled the papers on the desk, the lights around her flickering. Ruth sighed, running her hand down her face. "Yes, dear, I know I'm worrying."

"At least now I don't have to worry about it putting lines on my face." Gareth rumbled behind her, "You always told me that when I did the same thing."

"You usually had a glass of whiskey while you did." Ruth muttered, turning around to see the ghostly glow of her husband. "Would you like one now?"

Gareth sighed, "Unfortunately some pleasures are denied to me in my current state, you enjoy it for me."

Ruth stood, stretching before making her way to the bar and pouring herself a glass. "You enjoyed it too much when you could, my love. I believe it's my turn now."

"Could you flip this one over?" Gareth was leaning over the desk, "God, Welton always wrote a lot."

"He still does," Ruth turned the letter over. "Anastasia's been finding ways to occupy herself."

"I can see that." He pursed his lips, "Damn her, she should have just stayed home."

"On that, we both agree." Ruth sipped her whiskey, "Although according to her letters she's been speaking to some of the higher up in the Navy, she says she made quite an impression on Admiral Beatty."

"Still, I wouldn't have let her husband run off to go to war." Gareth rolled his eyes at her, making Ruth smirk.

"You would have bought her an estate over there to wait for him to be done and you know it."

"It would have been a nice estate and made for a wonderful vacation home for all of us." He came over, ghostly arms slipping around her even though there was no feel to them. "I worry about her, like you do."

Ruth took a swallow of whiskey. "I want to go see her so badly."

"I can try," Gareth shrugged, "It would be difficult, but I could try."

She wrinkled her brow, "How? You haven't really explained travel on that side much, you actually haven't explained much at all."

If Gareth could have sat he would have, "Travel is difficult, but not impossible." His form flickered a bit, a sign that his time was growing short. "After the sinking, I had to figure things out myself in the middle of the ocean. Eventually I felt a pull, like something was calling me to it. It was Abraham's ship, I knew it so well it was like coming home when I managed to wrestle my way aboard."

Ruth pursed her lips, "You take ships?"

"Familiar ones," He grinned, "It's easier for us to be around in familiar places. I can simply wait onboard one of our ships until she reaches Southampton and remain at the offices until Anastasia arrives."

Ruth turned, wishing she could grab Gareth's lapels and hold him close. "Is there a chance I could lose you too? I can't go through that, not again."

"Not permanently," Gareth knew what she wanted, coming closer to wrap himself around her. "From what I've been reading in those papers you leave out, Germans aren't targeting American ships at the moment, but even if they did I would simply wait until another ship headed to New York came past and climb on."

Ruth sniffed, "But you said you needed familiarity, what if it's not a ship you know?"

"I said it makes it easier," He chuckled, "I'd go through Hell to get back to you."

Oscar had expected spy work to be glamorous or at least fun. He had pictured himself flirting secrets out of ladies at parties, daring escapes with sensitive information or at least disguising himself to sneak into meetings of German sympathizers.

It was nothing of the sort.

Mostly it consisted of sitting with Penelope, papers scattered between them, and using ciphers to decode messages. Professor Featherstone apparently had quite the spy ring underneath him, so he didn't need Oscar to go find information but rather to decode and compile it for the professor to bring to the higher ups.

Oscar glanced to Penelope's neatly stacked pile of papers, the elegant writing on her report. "How can you do this all so fast?"

"It's a simple substitution cipher." She didn't even look over. "A child could break this."

"Then why is it being used?"

"Because the information isn't overly sensitive." Penelope lifted one sheet. "A report on the movement of Dogger Bank fishing boats, anyone could write this."

Oscar snorted, "And why is that relevant?"

"Perhaps if you took five minutes to think about it you could figure it out." She smirked, "Or do you require an explanation?"

Oscar grit his teeth, trying to ignore the deliberate baiting. He continued his slow decoding, doing his best to think critically. Dogger Bank was a large fishing ground in the North Sea frequented by boats from the eastern coast. It had been the site of tensions with the Germans, and he mulled that over for a moment. "Knowing which boats go out most frequently could lead to suspicions about them communicating with Germans."

Penelope raised an eyebrow. "And?"

"And," Oscar fairly growled, "It could indicate what boats to search for possible contraband or illegal communications."

"And it could indicate which captains could be recruited to our side." Penelope snorted, "Father said you were a good thinker, I'll be withholding my judgement on that for now."

"At least he has some faith in me," Oscar muttered, turning back to his papers. "Don't you do besides work? Go to a dance hall?"

"Full of fast girls and men who assume any girl there is fast."

"The pantomime?"

"I'm not a child."

"The cinema?"

"I don't like the newsreels."

Oscar groaned, "The theater?"

At that, Penelope blushed. "Well, maybe a few times."

Oscar swiped his papers away, grabbed hers and shoved them under his hands to keep them away. "Wonderful, tell me everything. We both need a break from all of this."

"Give those back!" She lunged across the table, making Oscar grab the papers and lean away. "We only have until the end of the week to finish decoding everything!"

Oscar dangled them out of her grasp, "Not until we discuss the theater before we both die of boredom." Thinking better of it he stood, put the papers on his chair, and sat on them. "Tell me, Miss Featherstone, what kind of theater do you prefer? Tragedy?"

Penelope, sitting down in a huff that set her black ringlets shivering, glared at him. "There's enough of that outside of the theater these days."

"Wonderful, comedies then." He grinned, "I'm partial to Gilbert and Sullivan myself." At that she let out a snort, making him raise a brow. "Not a fan?"

"I prefer older plays." Penelope looked down to the bare table, her blue eyes bright. "Shakespeare, actually."

Oscar tried not to laugh, only letting a chuckle out. "The lover of the Tudors is a lover of the Bard, aren't you just the perfect little history student?"

"I liked him before I started my studies." She shot back, the bright in her eyes gone as she glared at him. "Now give me back my work."

Oscar raised his hands, "My apologies, but at least tell me your favorite play."

"The Taming of the Shrew." She looked away, "Please no snide comments."

He drew back, "Why would I make a snide comment? It's a wonderful play! Some friends and I did a reading a few years back, you should have seen us."

"I watched a performance at the school's theater last year," She smiled, "They had such a good Petruchio."

"I'm sure you would make a lovely Katherina." Oscar offered, "I remember those productions, we did a doozy of one just before I left for home."

She cocked her head, "Which one?"

"A Midsummer Night's Dream, I played Bottom."

"I always knew you were an ass!" She laughed, an actual genuine laugh that made Oscar grin. "I would have thought you would have played Theseus or Oberon. I could even see you being Puck."

Oscar leaned forward, gesturing for her to lean in so he could whisper. "I couldn't remember any other lines but his."

"You never did put in a lot of effort with your schoolwork, aside from Father's class."

"I'm putting in effort now, unless you'd prefer to head to lunch."

Penelope thrust her hand out, her cheeks flaming red. "I'd prefer to get on with my work, if you please." Oscar sighed, relenting as he stood and handed the papers back over. "Thank you." Every time he tried to extend a friendly hand she closed off and snapped at him. It was enough to make him swear.

Oscar made for the door, "I'm going to speak with your father, just be a moment." He left the dark study they'd practically been locked in, moving through the halls of the rented building. Professor Featherstone didn't run his spy ring out of his home, instead he had been provided with the upper floors of a dry goods store for his free use.

He even had his own office, stocked with books from the university. He was looking through them as Oscar stepped in, "Oscar, is everything all right?"

"Oh yes, yes." Oscar shook his head, "I was just curious if I could find another assignment?"

"Your eyes strained?"

"Dreadfully so, it would do me good to get out."

Featherstone turned to his desk, finally pulling a paper from a pile and holding it out to him. "We need someone to meet a man in Southampton with extreme discretion, are you willing?"

Oscar remembered his promise to Ruth, and he couldn't help but smile. He could see Anastasia, if even from a distance. It would be good to see her, to make sure she was healthy and happy. He could admire her from afar, content in the knowledge of her wellbeing. "Of course, Professor. Discretion, I can be incredibly discreet. Your man won't even notice me until I call him by his name."

I had returned from Scotland with a rather put out Rigel, who was still rather cross with me even after I had explained my delay in returning. He didn't much care that the weather had prevented me from coming back to him, and spent our last day there moping around. I spent the majority of the train ride home cuddling him even at the expense of the massive amount of drool on my clothing.

Mr. Collins was too kind to comment on that, instead he was bursting to tell me about his time alone. He had managed to dress himself each day, even if the buttons took him far longer than they used to. Kate had assisted him with some cooking, but he could manage tolerably well. His writing had improved even more, he had taken to copying passages from the books around the house. "Look, I managed four entire paragraphs from one of those Russian books you have. They're actually readable!"

"It's wonderful, Luke." I smiled, taking the paper he was holding out. The ink was smeared, I could see it along the side of his hand where it grazed the paper as he wrote, but I could see every word clearly printed. "Soon you'll be writing full copperplate."

"Hardly," He laughed, but I had never seen him smile so wide. "But I can at least write my wife a letter with my own hand."

"I'm sure she'll be glad for it."

"She'll be even happier with my other news," Collins was practically dancing on his feet. "I've found a house to rent. I'll be sending money along for her to arrange for our things to be moved, soon I'll be out of your hair."

I took a breath. It would be good for him to be with his wife, to have his own house, but I had to admit I would miss having him around. It felt nice to have another person in the house, and it would be awfully quiet when he was gone. At least he hadn't said anything about leaving his position as my assistant. "I'll be so glad to meet her, I'm sure she's lovely."

"I was hoping we might all go out to dinner when she arrives," Collins sat down across from me. "To thank you for all you've done for me."

"I would be glad to." I was about to reach for more of his papers to see his progress when a knock at the door sounded. "Oh, just a moment."

I flicked back the curtain of the parlor window, revealing the entire Lightoller brood on the front step. Sylvie thrust Doreen into my hands as soon as the door opened, "Here, take your niece."

I somehow managed to juggle the baby, close the door behind them all and turn around. "Sylvie, I wasn't expecting you!"

"I should say not," She took in her boys currently staring at the one-armed man in my parlor. "You have a guest."

"My assistant, Lieutenant Luke Collins." I gestured towards him, and he nodded to them. "He's been staying with me until his wife arrives in a few weeks." I noticed his hand flexing, picking at the seam of his trousers. "Mr. Collins, my nephews Roger and Trevor, my nieces Mavis and Doreen and their mother, Sylvia Lightoller."

He gave Sylvie an actual bow. "Ma'am, Mrs. Murdoch didn't inform me she had such a charming family."

Sylvie tapped her cane, "She neglected to mention you as well."

"Sylvie," I warned, coming to take her hand and lead her to a chair. "I've been awfully busy, as have you. How as your trip to see your husband? He's quite the hero after that zeppelin business."

She blushed at that, "Bertie is well, and he was glad to see all of us. Roger and Trevor even got to go on his boat."

Roger was currently studying Mr. Collins with an intensity that was ill suited for a young man. "Why do you only have one arm?"

"Roger!" Sylvie snapped, "Apologize immediately!"

I stood, coming to take his hand and pull him away. "That's a very rude thing to ask, Roger. You tell him you're sorry."

Mr. Collins held up his hand, although his face was pale. "It's all right, he's just a boy."

"It's no excuse for bad manners," Sylvie sniffed, and Roger cringed away from her. "He should know how to be polite by now."

"I doubt he's seen many men like me." Collins knelt down, I could tell he was trying to be confident but his voice was quivering. "I was at Gallipoli, my arm was shot and they had to take it off. Your aunt has been very kind to me."

Roger glanced from Collins to his mother, "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Collins patted his shoulder, "I know it's strange with everything going on now." He was still knelt down when Trevor came up to gently touch his empty sleeve, and Trevor gasped when he realized that there really was no arm.

His eyes were wide, "I'm sorry someone shot your arm. Was it a German?"

"I think so."

"My papa's fighting the Germans." Trevor blinked, "Will he lose his arm?"

I gently caught both his hand and Roger's, "Boys, your father is going to be just fine. Just like your Uncle Will, and Mr. Collins is fine too. He's a very kind man, he's helping me with my work."

"Will he help with the puppies?" Trevor cocked his head.

I stopped in my tracks, "Puppies?"

"Oh hell," Sylvie sighed, leaning back in the chair. "Yes, puppies. Nana is pregnant, so soon enough there will be plenty of those running around."

"Congratulations, I suppose." I glanced to Collins, who seemed relieved to have the attention off of him. "Did you find a good stud?"

Sylvie glared at Rigel, who had come trotting in. "Yes, he's right there." Seeing my confused expression, she rolled her eyes. "Did the two of them have any unsupervised time together?"

I felt myself blush, "Well, I did leave them alone when I had to go to work."

"That would be it." She shook her head. "I'll be expecting your help with this too, although Bertie is beyond delighted. He wanted to breed the two eventually, he's quite miffed he won't be there for the birth."

"Well, I suppose it's a good thing then." I mumbled, feeling a bit odd as I sat down by her. A dog was pregnant before I was, but at least something good would come from it in a few months. "Perhaps Mother would like a puppy."

"I know my wife would." Collins chuckled, "What are we thinking they'll look like?" I said a brief prayer of thanks for his tact, for we quickly fell into a discussion of coats and patterns and colors. The boys were just glad to have new puppies coming, even though they knew the puppies would be leaving.

Although apparently Lights had been talking about getting more dogs, and then breeding them with Rigel. The boys were excited for that, while Sylvie bemoaned her fate of becoming a kennel master. Sylvie eventually seemed mollified, although I did receive a lecture about keeping a better eye on Rigel if she ever let Nana near him again.

I gave her a hug as she left, "I'll only leave the two of them alone under your or your husband's supervision, I promise."

"Honestly, he must have gone after her like Will goes after you." She whispered, making me blush and she laughed. "Have a good evening Mr. Collins, we'll have to host a dinner when your wife gets here."

Collins waved to them as they left, "Your sister-in-law is a very interesting person."

"She is," I sighed, smiling. "Although she isn't technically my sister-in-law, but our husbands are as close as brothers."

He shrugged, "I've known plenty of families that weren't blood related, there's no shame to it."

"I've never felt shamed by it," I tucked the parlor curtain back down. "I love each and every one of them like I've known they my whole life."