Will truly hated the torpedo room. While it was brightly lit, it was cramped with no portholes, up in the bow so every crash of the waves thundered through the bulkheads, the air was stale, and he felt like he had spent months down here. He was glad for the training he had gotten, even though it had been miniscule, for it meant that he didn't make a total ass of himself in front of the crew.

Instead, he kept quiet, listening to the crew as he ran them through drills to ensure that they could perform their jobs quickly and accurately. It also allowed him to observe the movements of the crew, memorizing them so that he could have loaded a torpedo tube on his own, practically in his sleep.

It wasn't all drill though, Will had them calculate firing solutions over and over. He helped when the math grew too dense for some, and encouraged them to question if one method was better over another. To be quite honest, he had no idea if a wider spread of torpedoes was better than a denser spread, and he hardly cared. But the men, many of whom had entered the navy and requested the torpedo work, seemed to enjoy it and he wasn't going to gainsay them a little bit of joy.

What little joy there was on this ship had to be savored.

The change of home ports from Chatham had set off grumbling, even though privately Will was relieved that they'd moved up to Rosyth. Everyone else had complained about the dismal Scottish weather, especially Captain Bligh, but he felt more at home. The few times all of the officers had dined together Bligh had needled him about any defect he found in the Rosyth docks; the inferior quality of the coal, the surliness of the dock crews, the poor food to be found in town, and the incomprehensible accent of the locals. In Bligh's eyes, every fault lay with Will, somehow.

He had simply remained quiet, even when the senior officers had begun a discussion about the inferior quality of the Scottish people as a whole, both physically and morally. He may have cut the fish he had been given a bit more harshly than needed, but not one word of defense sprang from his lips. One of the other juniors, Quigley, the one with the wispy mustache, had looked at him so pitiably during it that Will had half expected him to pull out a handkerchief and dab at his eyes at the cruelty he was suffering.

Fortunately, Will's presence seemed to offend Bligh so much that he was rarely invited to dine with the senior officers, nor were the other juniors. If anything, the senior officers held themselves above everyone onboard, and only respected Bligh. Which in turn, meant that they treated the juniors as little more than up-jumped stokers and Will like a rat that had crawled up a hawser. During watches, Will had been aghast to see the charts and figures that the other juniors had drawn up under the supervision of the senior officers, and had quickly corrected them.

But now he heard the bells that signaled it was time for the torpedo crew, and the junior officers, to head off to lunch. So, he nodded to the men as they looked up from their calculations. "Well done, lads, go get some food and we'll run a few drills before it's time for dinner." He shuffled off after them, at least glad that the wardroom was still open to him.

They even had their own steward, harried as he was taking care of all of them. A destroyer had a great many more officers than a liner, for every man who could handle some form of gun or department onboard was at least a Lieutenant. And, unlike him, they were addressed as such. The steward had learned that quickly after Bligh damn near bit his head off after referring to Will as "Commander Murdoch" during the first dinner.

So, Will gratefully accepted the chicken dumplings that were on the plate placed in front of him and didn't get offended when it was only handed over with a mumbled, "Mr. Murdoch."

"Thank you." He replied, reaching for his glass. He didn't look forward to lunch as much as the other officers, and even the men did, for Bligh had found yet another way to set him apart. He'd told the purser that Will was a teetotaler and that his rum ration was to be restricted. That was one thing Will was angry about, for a tot would have made some of this easier to deal with. Instead, Will had to endure everything sober, but today seemed to be a bit different.

For Quigley had pushed his own glass over towards him. "You look a bit pale sir, none of us will tell if you take a nip."

Will gently shoved the glass of rum back over, "You don't need Bligh coming down on you, I'll be fine."

"Sir, it's not right." One of the other juniors shifted in his chair, "We all heard the steward call you Commander. You shouldn't be eating with us."

Will turned back to his plate. "It's alright lads, we have to obey our captain." No one could gainsay that; insubordination was not something the Navy took lightly. And while he was fairly sure none of the junior officers would rat him out to the captain, it never hurt to be careful. After taking a drink of water, he decided to change the subject rather quickly. "When I received my assignment, someone mentioned we'd be replacing the live bait squadron. Any of you know what that means?"

The way everyone immediately quieted, and the silverware stilled, they obviously did. One officer swallowed nervously, "We're not supposed to discuss it, sir."

'There's no point not to." Quigley shot back, "We all know."

"But the Navy-"

Quigley snorted, "The Navy doesn't want the papers finding out more than they have, he's one of us." Will noted that he took a fortifying drink of rum before starting though, and it took him a minute to find the words.

"Some cruisers out of Harwich, old ones, were out on patrol when a U-boat found them. They were too old to run fast enough, and the damn Hun sunk all three of them when the other two stopped to pick up the crew of the first.." Quigley fiddled with his fork. "Fourteen hundred men, all lost."

"It was the Aboukir, the Cressy, and the Hogue." The young officer, Thompson, drew himself up at that. "An entire year of cadets out of Dartmouth between the three of them, all gone. Those poor boys."

"Christ," Will mumbled, trying to find something else to say. "And the Navy?" He took a moment to thank God that none of these men knew about Titanic, for he could imagine what might get said about him and the submarine captain having a similar kill count. He fought that thought down, it wasn't his fault. That blood wasn't on his hands. But sometimes, in the dead of night, he felt it. He felt like those souls were sitting in the sea outside his bunk, watching and just waiting for him to join them.

Sometimes he felt like cold hands were slipping down his back, digging their fingers in to haul him into that dark sea.

"They've tried to keep it quiet, mostly." Quigley shrugged, "But it's been in the papers, and everyone's calling for the First Lord to be sacked."

Will looked down, "I'm afraid I haven't been keeping up much with the papers here."

"I'd be glad to get that fool Churchill out," Thompson rolled his eyes, finishing his glass of rum. "Have Fisher back in, that's what we need."

"Fisher's old," Quigley shot back, "Beatty, that's the one we need. Take it to the Germans, smash the High Seas fleet and sink every bloody U-boat."

"Hear, hear." The other officers echoed that, and Will gratefully finished his plate. He kept his ears open, listening to name after name be thrown out. Fisher, Beatty, Jellicoe, a trio that would save the country and have the war won by Christmas, so long as Churchill was sacked, tarred and feathered, and run out of town on a rail.

At the next set of bells, he stopped Quigley on his way past. "Say, I know I've been cast down to the pit," He hoped joking would make it easier, "And I know you're in the turret, but would you mind if we swapped a few watches next week? I'd like to get some experience up there."

"And I could use some down there." Quigley nodded, "I'll tell the boys not to run to find a senior officer when you show up." He grabbed Will's arm and leaned in, "And what Bligh doesn't know won't hurt him. You give me a sign; I'll slip you some rum. The purser owes me a favor."

Will shook his hand, "I'll take that deal."

Oscar, determined to at least give the impression that nothing was wrong, had insisted on a costume party around Halloween which had led to another round of shopping. Of course, when the notice that the Vanderbilts were holding a costume party went out, all of the stores immediately put together some of their stock with various costume pieces to appeal to the guests and part them with their cash.

I took in the costume of Diana that a salesman was currently trying to convince me would be flattering, although I doubted it. The dress was too loose, and far too short. I shook my head, "I'm afraid an eternal maiden just isn't for me." That drew a snort from Liz, and I looked over. "It won't be for you either, soon enough. Perhaps you should wear it."

She rolled her eyes, smirking. "Oscar would shoot me if I came in wearing a skirt that short."

"Well, then you had better figure out something."

"I have," She stepped forward, throwing her arms out dramatically. "Behold, Venus, goddess of love and beauty!"

"Venus needs a dress." I mumbled, "I don't suppose this is for James's benefit?"

That caused a pout. "He's going to be out during it, couldn't you just give him a pile of cash so he stays here and can come to the party?"

"Liz," I warned, "You know he sees this as his part in the war." James had made a visit to the house, and it had been good to see him. He had expressed nothing but sympathy for my situation, for Will's safety, and the continuation of both of our good luck. Mother had brought up her worry about him being pulled into the war, and he had brushed it off by saying that his part may not be on a battleship, but it was no less vital to the war effort.

Liz took my arm, and we began to wind further through the costumes that had been set out for our inspection. "I know, and thank God all your ships are flying American flags, but he tells me that they've seen periscopes out there. And sometimes all I can think of if them getting confused, and firing on them-" She clammed up, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

I took a breath, fighting down the little jump my heart had given. "It's alright, the Germans haven't sunk that far. And Will's ship is very fast, he's sure they can outrun a U-boat." I had slowly gotten more used to talking about Will's service without wanting to cry. I still missed him, deeply, but I could at least speak of his ship without wanting to hide myself away.

"Well, that's good." She gave a small smile, "You should write him and see if he can get leave for the wedding. I'd like to have him there."

"I would too." I sighed, an idea entering my mind. I couldn't have Will at the party, but I could at least send him pictures of me in my costume. And what better way to signal my acceptance of his naval service than dressing as the personification of his country and his service? I looked to the attendant trailing us, "Do you have anything that would suffice for Britannia?"

"Britannia?" Liz raised a brow, watching as the salesman scurried forward to lead us. "Sending a shot across Sophie's bows?"

"You've been hanging around James too much." I pursed my lips, "And it's not at her. She feels as badly about this whole thing as I do."

"Then the Reichster clan." Liz sniffed, watching as the salesman began to pull out dresses in various shades of red, white and blue. "You know they've been fundraising for German efforts. I've seen Mr. Reichster heading to that German liner tied up over in Jersey."

"The Vaterland." I muttered. "I've seen her, flying that German flag all high and mighty."

"And what are you two gossiping about?" Oscar, fresh from his jaunt to the men's department, emerged from behind a display of hats. His wavy brown hair had been lightly pomaded to tame it and his eyes were dancing as he scented some blood in the water. "I'm fairly sure I heard some German, you two wouldn't be taking up a career in spying, would you?"

The salesman, sensing that a much longer conversation was about to begin, jumped in. "Begging your pardon, sir. Mrs. Murdoch, I have some selections for you. I will have to go fetch the shield and the helmet, and the spear, of course. But they are in another department, if you will allow me?"

I nodded to him, earning myself a questioning look from Oscar. "A spear, a helmet and a shield. I certainly hope you're coming as Athena."

"As I told your sister," I teased, grabbing Liz's arm and moving towards the dressing rooms, "An eternal maiden doesn't appeal to me."

I could see him cycling through what mythological female figure carried all three before his eyes widened and he caught my hand before we could disappear into the safety of the dressing room. "Anastasia, you cannot be serious. Britannia?"

"I think it's a perfectly fine idea, Oscar." Liz shot back, tugging on my other arm.

"I think it's liable to get her ridiculed in the papers." Oscar glanced behind him, checking that no one was watching the argument. "You know quite a few people coming are on the German side, and that even more of them are neutral. I just don't want people to gossip about Anastasia any more than they are."

I pulled my hand from his grasp. "Oscar, as soon as the war started, I was destined to be gossiped about."

"But you're barely back." He cut himself off, looking away. "I, just, I don't want anything to send you scurrying away again."

Liz came around me, snorting. "And that's very kind of you, big brother, but Anastasia is a grown woman." She put her hand on his chest, laughing as she gently pushed him back, "So bugger off and let her wear what costume she wants."

I was giggling with her as we gained the dressing room, several shopgirls ready to assist us. Liz had somehow conscripted one of them to bring her an utterly obscene dress that I was positive there was no way her parents would let her appear in, although when I brought that up, she laughed it off. Apparently, this dress was for James' eyes only, well, aside from the photographer so he could have a keepsake of it. A very beautiful, far more modest dress had been chosen for the party.

I dismissed the red dresses when they were held up for my inspection, they were far too bright of a shade to suit my complexion. The white dresses were also discarded, far too bridal in my opinion. When Liz saw me emerge in my first dress, she groaned. "Always with the blue, Anastasia, you know you look just as good in any other color."

"It's fitting." I remarked, admiring the empire waist of the down. "Will's uniform is blue."

"Then wear that, then Oscar could fret about them writing that you were wearing trousers." Liz rolled her eyes, and the parade of dresses began. The salesman from before emerged with the shield, helmet, and he apologized profusely that they had sold the spear he had his eye on, but he hoped a trident would suffice. Finally, after several hours, I was finally content with everything. Smiling wickedly, Liz brought Oscar in, covering his eyes. "Now, look!"

Oscar's face was shocked, although he looked me up and down quick enough before settling on the trident. "Well, that should keep anyone from trying anything."

I looked to the salesman, "I'll take it. Please have it sent to our car." Quick enough I was out of the costume, it was packed away and the three of us were rolling back home. I was still at the Fifth Avenue house; Mother wasn't ready to send me home yet.

And she'd be coming with me, to ensure that I was fully recovered.

She had been pleased enough with my progress to allow some wine back at dinner, although I was only allowed a glass of red and a glass of white. When I had asked Mr. Rigby for a glass of whiskey, he had almost grabbed me by my ear to haul me in front of Mother. I didn't make that mistake again, despite how badly I wanted a nightcap sometimes.

Of course, I tried it again when Mother sent me to the offices. Mr. Keller had been waiting, a pile of reports for me stacked neatly on the desk and he was prepared to give a full run down of everything that had been happening while I had been, as he so delicately put it, indisposed. He had given a cough when I had made a beeline for the decanter of whiskey left out, "Mrs. Murdoch, the reports."

"I need a drink to get through those." I grumbled, lifting the crystal lid.

"Your mother said if I see you drinking, I'm to report it, and that she's going to haul you out of here like you were a child. I think she even spoke of spanking you, and making it clear to all your friends what happened." He had coughed delicately, "And the staff."

I had blushed at that, even though I knew Mr. Keller had his own children so that was nothing to him, but the thought of everyone knowing my mother had spanked me at my age was embarrassing. So, I had set the decanter down with a curse, "Damn, Mr. Keller, you wouldn't rat me out, would you?"

"I am not going against your mother. Your father did something to anger her so badly one time she came down here and I thought she was going to throw him through the window. That's the least of what she'd do to me if I covered for you." He had tapped the desk, "Now, the reports?"

I had groaned at that, and sat like a good girl and reviewed every bit of paperwork. The new ship for the Great Lakes was almost halfway finished, complete with turbines and with plans for the wireless to be added once it was time. The other offices were reporting profit, even if the money coming in from Britain had dipped slightly due to food being a bit less valuable than our previous cargo.

I must have made some sign of distress, because thinking about the offices nowadays always gave me a headache, for Oscar kept ahold of my hand as he helped me down from the car. "Everything alright?"

"Oh, yes." I shook my head. "Just the business."

He helped me up the stairs to the front door. "Well, I'm lacking in my job of distracting you if you're giving yourself a headache over something as trivial as that."

"Oh, you've been a wonderful distraction." I gave him a smile; grateful a maid was leading us all to a parlor fully set for afternoon tea. "But I feel as if I was too distracted, for too long of a while, so much has piled up at the offices that I feel like I'm drowning in papers."

Oscar settled down across from Liz and I on the settee, pouring for all of us. "I could always come and help."

"I think you would be out of your depths." I chuckled, noting how as Oscar set the teapot back down, he skillfully swiped the afternoon paper that had been left out. I nodded to that, "You can leave it out, I don't mind."

The paper crinkled under his fingers, "I just thought it might upset you."

"I don't really read it." I admitted, adding cream and sugar to mine and watching as Liz did the same.

She did more than that, shaking her head. "I don't either, aside from the fashion pages. They seem to take such joy in reporting such awful things."

I nodded, knowing what she meant. Every day more ink was spilled across the pages, decrying the rape of Belgium, the men bleeding to death in France, the trenches, the pushes and the cost of everything. But there was one thing that they glossed over, and I glanced to Oscar. "I don't want you to bother him too much, but has Professor Featherstone sent any wires about what's going on with the Navy?"

He stiffened, setting his teacup down. "I've had some."

"Could you tell me, please?" I set my own cup down, not trusting my hands at the moment. "Will hasn't mentioned anything in his letters, and some of them were blacked out! I don't know anything that's going on."

Oscar sighed, holding up his hands. "I would like to start by saying that Will's ship was not involved with any of these actions, and Professor Featherstone's information is very accurate. There was one before he arrived, in the Heligoland Bight. The British came out on top, they kept the German fleet bottled up." He took in a sharp breath, "But they got their revenge, one of their submarines torpedoed three cruisers that were out on patrol. The Professor said he doesn't know the exact amount lost, but it was over a thousand."

I gasped at that, my hands coming to cover my face. Will could easily have been on one of those cruisers, he could have been lost so easily, to a single U-boat. I heard Liz set her drink aside, her voice soft and calming as soothed me. But I wasn't crying, or shaking, I simply needed a moment to collect myself. There were still a few tears on my cheek when I straightened up, reaching for my teacup. "Thank you, Oscar. Please, let me know if you learn anything more."

"Of course." He reached over to the table, offering a plate of chocolate. "I think you might need some of this."

I took a piece, "I believe I do."

Just as I bit into it, the sound of footsteps heralded Mother's arrival. She took one look at me, eating chocolate and with tears on my face, and immediately whirled on Oscar. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" He half stood, only sitting when Mother stalked closer. "She asked if I'd had news about the Navy, and I said before I told her that William wasn't involved in any of it!"

"Really, Mother." I brushed the tears away, finishing my chocolate. "It's alright, Oscar was just kind enough to tell me what I asked of him."

A handkerchief was quickly in her hands, swiping at the tear tracks that had made their way through my powder. "Still, you're only just getting better."

"She's much improved, Ruth." Oscar smiled, "You should have seen her in the store today, she picked the most original costume."

"No one else will even come close to it!" Liz crowed, pulling Mother down to the settee. "You should have seen how she fought Oscar on it."

I sipped my tea, blushing slightly. "I wouldn't say I fought him."

"Oh, yes you did." Liz snorted, "Honestly Ruth, she's so much better than when we visited. And you'll both be coming to the party, and everyone can see that Anastasia is nothing to gossip about."

"There's been gossip?" Mother sat a bit straighter, looking to Oscar.

He shrugged, "Just that it was odd that she wasn't receiving for a while. Of course, some people think they should disparage Will's service but they were drowned out fairly quick. If anything, people think it's romantic that he gave up a loving wife and an easy life to serve his country."

I bit down my comment that I would have found it more romantic if he had stayed, instead nodding to him. "Well, I'll be opening the house back up soon enough."

"To everyone?" Liz cocked her head, "Or should we give you a list of the families with German leanings so you can avoid them?"

Mother leaned in at that, "Oh, I think they should come visiting. After all, wouldn't it just be a tragedy if they said something carelessly and it somehow made it to the British navy?"