I wish I could say that the trip to Washington proved to be some great relief, that away from the city Will and I were able to find a moment of peace. But it was not to be. The inquiry continued on, the officers and sailors called back up again and again to answer any number of inane questions. Will had the worst of it, as I expected. It seemed Senator Smith had an endless list of questions that exposed how he was planning on continuing.

"Was there ever an order to increase speed beyond the normal speed that you have stated?" Smith asked during one session, after pressing Will for details regarding the speed at the time of the collision.

"No sir, not to my knowledge."

"I will be frank Mr. Murdoch, there has been discussion that Mr. Ismay was heard ordering Captain Smith to increase speed with the hopes of securing some accolade. Do you know of that?"

"The accolade, sir? The Blue Riband, awarded for the fastest transatlantic crossing."

"I meant the discussion."

"Sorry, but I do not. In fact I could not think of any reason why Mr. Ismay would push for more speed." Will almost chuckled as he spoke.

"Why is that?"

"The Cunard liners can do approximately 24 knots as their top speed, according to them. Titanic was rated for 22 1/2 to 23 knots to my best guess. We knew we couldn't catch them for speed."

"Surely two knots is not so great a trial to overcome?" Smith thought he was clever, but he had obviously never had to deal with getting a replacement boiler fitted after a captain had decided to press his engines. That had happened to one of our ships a few years back, Father had almost torn out his hair dealing with the expense and the lost contracts while the ship was laid up.

"We did not try it sir, our only wish was for this voyage to go smoothly and it has been said when the Cunard liners run their top speed they shake something horrible. This was a maiden voyage, we were running the ship with every eye towards a safe crossing, not quick."

"Did the officers discuss the top speed at all?"

"Only in the way one is curious about such matters. Nothing about attempting it on this trip."

"So, in your expertise, the discussion that has been brought to our attention is inaccurate?"

"Yes." Will spoke firmly, and he was dismissed after that. We did our best to stay for the others officers, who were questioned about the speed of the ship in the same manner. I took Will's hand, trying to remember the feel of it. Washington had brought another hardship, Will was unable to come to my room without being noticed. We were all housed on the same floor of the hotel I had found, but the hotel staff was so studious in their rounds that there was never a time where the hallway was deserted enough. The first night had been the worst, and a maid had actually come running with the manager, convinced I was being murdered.

The manger had stayed back from the bed, where I was twisted in the sheets. He was breathing heavily, "My apologies Miss Dalian, the maid was just so concerned and I was the only one with the key."

"It's alright, just a nightmare." I muttered as I tried to set myself to rights while keeping the blanket pulled up to my chin. "I've had them for awhile"

"I can arrange for something to be brought to calm your nerves, if you would like." He looked down studiously at his shoes.

"No, I will be fine, but please tell the maids not to worry." I nodded to him, "Please, I will be back asleep in a moment." He had left, and I had tried to steady myself. The nightmares were different, now that I had heard about Will's trials during the sinking. That night I had seen him sucked down with the ship, his coat flaring about his legs as he flailed for the surface. Father had been sitting in a deck chair as they descended, offering Will a brandy and a cigar. What little sleep I had gotten that night proved little relief, and I had actually nodded off during the inquiry the next day. Fortunately I did not miss much, Smith still focused on the tiniest of details, especially the speed of the ship.

The line of questioning continued in that manner for several days, spread throughout the officers and even some of the firemen who had survived. I had read it in the papers too, that White Star had intended to claim not only the most luxurious and safest ships, but also the fastest. It seemed foolish to me, liner companies would gladly print any claim they thought they could reach, and I had seen nothing about speed in the advertisements for the Titanic, only luxury and safety. Senator Smith seemed focused on hammering this point though, or in exposing his own ignorance.

"Now Mr. Murdoch, what exactly is the composition of an iceberg?" Senator Smith, now accompanied by several other senators at his table, asked without even looking up.

"Excuse me, sir?" I swear I heard a chuckle in Will's voice, a note of disbelief.

"What is an iceberg made of?"

"Ice, sir." The entire room laughed outright at that, and I hid the wide grin I had behind a hand. How could you not know what an iceberg was made out of, all you had to do was say the word!

"Is ice truly such a threat to a steel ship?"

"Yes sir, ice that large can easily hole a vessel. Even growlers can cause damage."

"Growlers?"

"Small bergs, hard to spot against the waves." Will managed to keep a straight face, even as Smith continued in his line of questioning. We had all had a good laugh about it after, back at the hotel. The only bit of drama the next day was that Officer Boxhall taking sick. I volunteered to stay with him, he was simply exhausted and had to rest for a couple of days before he was recovered enough to resume questioning. I tried to use the time I had away from the inquiry to rest as well, but I had little success. So I focused on him, bringing him meals and reading to help him sleep. Finally, he was well enough to begin attending again, they all attended even if they did not have to testify that day.

It was during one of the days where Will did not have to take the stand, when he sat beside me and we would whisper to each other about the inquiry, that a man who would quickly become infamous took the stand. From the testimony of some of the crew, it seemed that there was a ship nearby when the sinking occurred. Some of the lifeboats had even made for it, and the officers testified that it was well within sight of the distress rockets we had launched. The captain of that ship took the stand. Stanley Lord looked like a cold man, and as he sat down and was sworn in I heard Will breathe in sharply. I leaned over and he whispered into my ear, "I've served with him."

"Where?"

"The Iquique, back when I was on the Sydney route. He was an apprentice and thought to order me about, not realizing I outranked him. Never thought to see him again." Despite the testimony of several sailors, including the Marconi operator, that Lord's ship, the Californian, was within sight of the distress rockets, he denied it. I wanted to feel angry, if his ship had actually come to our rescue so many could have been saved, but I was exhausted. If, if, if. The inquiry brought out so many ifs. But it needed to focus on what was, and that seemed to take so long to get to.

Late Friday that week, at dinner, I informed the officers that I would be leaving for the weekend in order to attend Father's funeral. That cast an immediate pall over the conversation, but I quickly tried to distract them. "You all should use the weekend to see some of the sights here, or visit the Smithsonian museums. I'll be back late Sunday, as long as the train runs on time."

Charles carried the rest of the night, asking me what I knew about the museums. Unfortunately it was very little, which lead to all of them coming up with the most outlandish thing they would be able to find. James came up with what was considered the best idea, that the museum might have one of the new fangled flying machines on display. I granted that they might, but they should also stop to see General Sickles' leg.

"You're having us on now, Miss." Lowe laughed, "A General's leg?"

I set my wine back down, "I swear, he lost it at Gettysburg. Grandfather was in Washington one year on the anniversary, apparently General Sickles visited it on that day each year."

Boxhall spoke up from down the table, "Did you have any family in that war?"

I smiled, "Yes, both sides of my family fought in the war. On my mother's side, two of her uncles fought in the Union army. One under Sherman, he helped burn their way through Georgia, and one in the East, eventually under Grant. He had a brick he'd taken from Richmond that he kept on his mantle. My Grandfather, Hiram Dalian, was an officer under Admiral Porter on the Mississippi. He started Dalian Shipping after the war, made quite a bit of money running supplies from Britain to the South under Reconstruction." I sighed, "He was an interesting man, he left my father his sword when he died under the strict requirement that my father had to wear it to the funeral. And on Grandfather's birthday every year." That drew a round of laughter, and the conversation began to drift into family histories and military service. I was surprised to discover that quite a few of them were in the Royal Naval Reserves. I leaned over to Will, "Why did you join?"

"It seemed the right thing to do, and if war comes then I can continue sailing without being in too much danger." He must have seen my confusion. "They don't want us merchantmen on their war ships, we just continue our usual duties, only for the Royal Navy." He turned to call good night to a few of the others who were headed up, but turned back, his voice low. "Ana, I want to talk to you about the funeral. Let me come with you."

I shook my head, looking down to my empty plate. "Will, it's alright. It's not going to be much fun."

He snorted at that, standing and offering me his arm. "Let's take a walk to the sitting room." We made our way through the hotel, back to the sitting room reserved for guests. A few were clustered around in various groups, but Will quickly found a settee away from them. He took my hands as he sat, "Let me come to the funeral, I could be your escort."

"Will, I don't want you to be there." I found myself still looking down, unwilling to meet his eyes. "Stay and go out with the others, have some fun."

His hands tightened on mine, and I instinctively looked up. His eyes were wide, the blue of them vibrant in the light. "Why don't you want me to come?"

"Will, please-"

"Ana, tell me."

I screwed up my face, ready to tell him to drop it, but the way his voice caught made my resolve crumble. "I don't want you there, thinking about death. I don't want you to get melancholic again, to have those thoughts. I want you to go out and enjoy your time here." I gently squeezed his fingers, "Whatever time you have left."

"I'd rather spend that time with you," He gently brushed a thumb under my eye. "You haven't been sleeping well."

"Neither have you," I shot back, reaching up and running my own fingers under the bags that had begun appearing below his eyes earlier in the week. We both stared at each other for a moment, touching each other's faces, before we suddenly dropped our hands. I brushed my fingers back through my hair, "Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad."

Will chuckled, settling further down into the cushions. "I promise to not get that way again. These hearings have actually been helping with that."

I moved closer to him, not as close as I would have liked though. "How? All it seems to me is Smith having the same details told to him again and again."

"It's showing me that it wasn't just my bad luck, or my fault." He stretched out his legs, "There were so many other things that led to it, I was just the poor man who was on watch when it happened."

Keeping an eye on the others in the room, I snuck my hand over to his. "I'm glad then, but I wish I could," I leaned closer to him, "I wish I could have you by me at night."

"Tomorrow," He murmured, "You know there are benefits to having a private rail car." I wanted to kiss him then, but with the others around I settled for squeezing his hand again. The thought of having him to myself for the whole train ride was a promising one, and I resolved to ensure that time was spent well, to spend it enjoying each other without anyone watching us. Will looked over at me, "Have you been having nightmares?"

"Yes, and I'm going to assume you have as well." I looked aside at him, "But with you everything is easier, I think more on the future than what happened."

He ran his fingers over my knuckles, "One more night love, and then we can be alone for a bit." I tried to hold onto that thought when I lay in my bed later that night, to think of being able to have Will to myself again. It proved some solace, I did not wake screaming but only started awake a few times during the night. My dreams seemed to shift, first the awful roar of the boilers exploding, and then Will and I in the cabin on the Carpathia, lying on top of him and feeling his hands on my back. I tried to focus on the latter, to remember the feel of Will's skin under my lips, the taste of his sweat and the slight sting of aftershave on my tongue. I found myself calmer as I woke, and packed a valise for the short trip after I dressed. Will met me in the lobby, his own bag clutched in his hand.

We stayed respectable as we took a cab to the station, and a conductor led us to our private car at the end of the train. The oak flooring and walls were polished, the leather of the benches and chairs smooth and buttery. The draperies were done in the Dalian colors of royal blue and white, the bar area freshly stocked with crystal glasses. It was a comfortable way to travel, which the officers had gladly taken advantage of on the way up. I had laughed to see them all spread out over the benches and chairs, asleep in the strangest positions as they filled the car with their noise. But now that it was just Will and I, it seemed so large. Once the door was shut and the bags placed on empty chairs, Will was immediately wrapped around me. I held him close, breathing him in.

He spoke quietly, "I've missed holding you."

"So have I." I placed a kiss to cheek, "God, it feels good to have you here."

"It feels right." He whispered, pulling us over to a leather bench against a wall. I reached up and pulled the damask curtains across the window that stretched along the side, and then curled myself up against him. His fingers brushed gently through my hair, "Is everything ready in New York?"

"Yes, it should all go smoothly." I'd gotten various telegrams throughout the week updating me on the progression of the funeral. Invitations had gone out, flowers were being purchased, and the headstone and casket were ready. All that remained was the ceremony itself.

"Have you written down your eulogy?"

"No, I haven't." I leaned against his shoulder, "I don't want to think about it now." I had put off thinking about it at all, it made it seem so final. Instead I set myself to kissing my way up his neck, watching his eyes flutter shut as I did. His hand was firm on my back though, and it wrapped around my ribs. I couldn't help it, I giggled slightly.

An eye sleepily opened. "Are you ticklish?" His hand moved again and I twitched in his grasp, half rising out of the seat.

"No, you just startled me." I lied, feeling another laugh bubble up. God, why did it have to be my ribs? He let his fingers wander over my sides, guiding me back onto the bench as he leaned over me. The train gave a whistle and began to move, both of us lurching to the floor with a laugh as it started out from the station. I had wound up underneath him, his legs tangled with mine as he held himself above me on his elbows. Our faces were close, I could feel his breath on my cheek. My lips parted, my voice a bare whisper, "Will."

"Ana." He lowered himself down, gently pressing his lips to mine. It felt so sweet to have him close to me again, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, feeling the muscles underneath his clothing. I gently pulled him down, letting him settle on top of me. The weight seemed nothing, as long as I had his lips against mine and his hands moving up from my ribs to gently brush against the side of my breast. He let his lips move from mine, tracing his way down my throat. It was like fire on my skin, after being unable to be close to him for so long. I didn't care that the oak flooring was hard against my head as I arched my neck, giving him better access as he moved along. It didn't matter, all that mattered was Will was here, was close to me, and I gasped as I felt him nip at my neck.

I shifted slightly underneath him as he pressed himself down on top of me, moving my hips slightly as he seemed to settle between them. He was pressed flush to me, and it felt wonderful, as if there was a sudden current racing under me where we touched. I wanted him closer though, and wrapped one of my legs over his. Will gave a slight moan against my skin, and I pressed myself up to him. There was a slight firmness against my hips where I was pressed to him, and I moved against it, curious about what it was. Will pulled back suddenly, his voice rough. "Oh God, Ana." He moved back onto his heels, "That was, that was ill done of me."

I still lay on the floor, wishing I had him still on top of me. I pillowed my head on an arm, watching him. "I didn't mind."

He sat back onto the floor, "Neither did I, but I should still have not done it."

I moved over to him, "Will, it's been too long since we've been together. Alone." I placed my hands on his legs, feeling him tense through his trousers. "It was no hardship, believe me. I enjoyed it quite a bit."

"You're a horrible woman," He chuckled, "Come here." Together we settled back onto the bench, and it was comforting to have him by me. We watched the scenery roll by, trading kisses and whispered words as we did. Nothing ever got quite as intense as the first one, and I felt a slight ache. He was so careful, and sometimes I wished that he would be a little reckless. But for now, being close to him, talking to him, was enough. The ride north was long though, and we slowly quieted. I enjoyed watching Will, the flicker of his eye lashes as he blinked, the way he would occasionally track something through the window, and even when his eyes slowly began to drift closed.

I poked him in the rib, "How can you fall asleep so fast?"

"When I'm working, I'm lucky to get a few hours of sleep a day." He didn't even open his eyes as he spoke, "So when I have the chance, I fall asleep fast and deep." His breathing began to deepen, and the hand on my waist slackened after awhile. I gently removed it, getting up and stretching. Let him sleep, I needed to attend to something, something that I was dreading. I sighed as I settled back into the leather seat, a pile of newspapers in front of me. I hadn't had time to read them during the days, and had instead piled them up to read now, retrieving them from my valise.

They were vicious, and I paled as I read them. The lifeboats refusing to go back were a huge point, and the officers blamed for not taking them back despite the multiple reassurances from the officers that passengers begged them not to. The first class passengers were derided for leaving in boats that weren't full. And poor Will caught the worst of it, with allegations of drunkenness, accepting bribes for places in boats, deliberately increasing the speed of the ship. I threw the papers I had read aside, grabbing for the one on the bottom of the pile, the New York Journal. I'd saved it for last, it would no doubt be the worst. There were basic articles on the proceedings, but what chilled me was an article in the Wednesday edition.

Heroes and Villains of the Titanic Sinking
-Frank Reading

When reading about the sinking of the great steamer, the cast of characters that emerges can easily be sorted into two sorts. Those who used the sinking to display the vast heroism that the public can no doubt admire, and those who scrambled to save their own skins, even taking chances to enrich themselves along the way. Thanks to my exposure to both of these groups, your humble reporter can very easily provide the reader with both.

One can find no greater heroes in the sinking than the Reichster family, waiting until the last boat to see that they could get as many people saved as they could. Mrs. Samantha Reichster has emerged as a great lady in the aftermath, being intimately involved with the relief effort from the beginning. Zachary and Gareth Reichster have been instrumental in arranging for the care of the survivors and providing travel arrangements for those who wish to return. We can only hope that the other great families of New York can display such Christian charity in this tragic time.

As for the villains in this disaster, one only has to look at the officers of the ship. Especially the lead officer, a Scotsman by the name of Murdoch. He was seen in the company of a notable family several times at meals onboard the ship, and this reporter has no doubt that he knowingly entered into this relationship with the most foul motives, seeking to enrich himself at this family's expense. These motives continue even now, the heiress of this family housing him in the city and, according to confidential information provided, he is engaged in a most scandalous relationship with said heiress. His influence has even led to her striking the scion of a family during a social call, behavior that cannot be tolerated in the lowest sort of woman, let alone her set. She has not only taken to entertaining this Murdoch, but the other officers, taking them by her private rail car to Washington. This is supposedly for them to continue attending the inquiry, but one only has to think of what an unchaperoned young woman and a group of rough sailors could be doing when not testifying, when provided with all the fine drink and dining one can have in Washington. We can only hope that the funeral of her father later this week is not tainted by these men, but the family has seemingly thrown all propriety out, so one can only wait and see.

My hands were shaking by the time I finished, and I felt like I might vomit. Will was still asleep in on the bench, and I walked over to look at him. He looked so at peace, a slight stubble on his cheeks and his eyes twitching slightly in some dream. I shoved the paper to the bottom of the pile, returning to his side. I pressed myself close to him, trying to calm myself with his presence. This was nothing, this was a meaningless gossip column that would be forgotten by the next scandal.

This was the work of the Reichsters.

I needed to fight back, I needed to give my own interviews and get my own narrative going. To show everyone that what had happened was no one man's singular fault, to show that Will and the others were the best that could have been had when in that situation. I needed arm myself with as many facts as I could.

I was going to war.