A week later found me loading the children and dog into my car and then slowly driving over to Sylvie. The boys seemed excited to be going home, even if it was more to see their mother rather than their new sister. Mavis seemed of the same mind, even as I tried to encourage them about their sister. Nana pouted a bit, she had grown quite fond of Rigel and it had taken most of my strength to haul her away.

But she was the first one to demand an inspection of the new baby, sniffing the bundle and wagging her tail quickly. Sylvie was sat in a rocking chair, the midwife she had hired still living with her to ensure the health of the baby. She looked well, if a bit tired. Roger and Trevor were next to see the baby, although they seemed a bit more focused on hugging her. Trevor sniffed loudly, and Sylvie wiped his eyes and kissed his cheeks when he stepped back. "Oh, come now, it's all right. Now, let your Aunt come up."

I stepped closer, surprised when she handed me the bundle. I drew back the blankets, thinking I would see a cherub with dark curls. Instead what I saw was nothing more than a scrunched up red face, a wisp of brown hair on her head. Her face was rather red too, and I must have given some indication of my thoughts for Sylvie laughed. "Now what you were expecting?"

"Oh," I started. "Oh, she's beautiful!"

"She's a potato," Sylvie chuckled, accepting the baby back. "She'll look better in a few weeks, they're always a bit pinched the first few weeks."

"Well, she's a pretty potato at least." I sat down, watching as Sylvie cuddled her daughter to her breast. "And she's not the only baby I've had news about." Sylvie looked over, glancing down at my stomach and raising an eyebrow. I blushed and shook my head, "Two of my friends in New York wrote me, they're both pregnant."

"Ah, Mrs. Moody I assume?"

"Yes, and Sophie." I smirked, remembering Sophie's letter. "Although thankfully we won't be having another of Zachary's spawn to deal with. She's extremely confident that this is her lover's child."

Sophie laughed so loudly that Doreen, I assumed she would be like most Lightoller children and be known by her middle name, began to cry. Sophie shushed her, rocking her in her arms. "Oh, now that is good news. God, I wish I could be there to see everything."

"So do I." I mumbled, feeling a pang. I wanted to be back with Liz, helping sew clothes for the baby and pick out nursery colors. I wanted to make snide remarks at Zachary about how he had better pray that his next child looked nothing like him, the world was cursed enough with his face already.

Sophie sighed, "Anna, you can't go home."

"I know, I won't abandon Will." I rubbed my hand across my eyes. "I just, tending to the business is fine, and I'm going back up to Scotland in a few weeks to look at houses, but it's just." I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, "Without the children everything is going to be so quiet at the house, and it's not like I'll have any of my own soon enough."

"Anna," Sophie rolled her eyes. "We've talked about this, it will happen! It may take a bit since Will is gone, but it will. Just a few days of leave with Bertie were enough to saddle me with this one," She bounced Doreen, now quiet. "More than likely William will leave you in a similar condition, until then you need to find something to do."

"Well the business-"

"Not business related." Sophie snorted, "Find something to do that takes you out of the house and away from the docks."

I bit my lip, remembering what Mr. Welton had said his daughters were doing. "Do you think I could nurse? I know a lot of women are volunteering."

"I think you could learn." Sophie reached over, patting my hand. "All you have to do is go to some hospital and ask." I gave her hand a squeeze, thankful for her words. In fact, after assuring myself that the boys were not going to light the house on fire in their excitement to be home, I got back in the car and drove around the city. I knew there were hospitals all over, many of them full of men from the Front. The nurses on the Front got them well enough to send them back over and the doctors here finished what they could.

I felt like I drove for hours, looking at the various hospitals. I watched nurses enter in their pristine uniforms, and come out in stained aprons with strained eyes. Men hobbled and were carried off trucks, a feminine hand soothing their brows as they were admitted. Their uniforms were torn and patched as best they could, mud from France still worked deep into the fabric. Every time I wanted to stop though, I drove on.

I must have circled half the hospitals in the city, a feeling of unease in my breast. Could I do that? Nursing seemed to be a wonderful profession in the romances that I read, more often than not the men tended to fell in love with their nurse and whisked her away for a wedding. But seeing those soldiers limping into the hospital, they looked tired and pained. The nurses looked exhausted and steely, the doctors frantic. I was frightened that I would turn into that, a frantic woman who only stopped worrying to turn into an emotionless harpy.

Eventually I stopped outside one hospital, St. Andrew's, seeing a man in a sailor's uniform dart inside. The building was several stories of brick and windows, and I parked on the curb. I couldn't drive all day, I needed to go inside and talk to someone. Maybe nursing wasn't so stressful, perhaps those hospitals were just busy.

I wouldn't know until I asked.

The entryway of the hospital was relatively uncrowded, wide and clean with daylight streaming though the windows. I approached the desk, smiling at the secretary behind it. "Hello, I was hoping to speak to someone about volunteering as a nurse?"

She barely looked up, "Do you have any experience?"

"No, but-"

"Then you're not needed." She finally looked up, eyes travelling over me. "Are you a hospital patron?"

I blinked, a plan forming in my head. "No, but I could be."

"Let me see if Dr. Humphry can come down." She turned to the phone on her desk, speaking quickly into it. After she hung up she nodded to a chair, "Please sit, he'll be down in a moment."

I did as she asked, fretting a bit as I did so. If they only wanted women with experience, then there went my shot at nursing. But becoming a hospital patron sounded like something that I could do, they'd want money but that wasn't unusual. Eventually Dr. Humphry, a red haired man who looked rather like a rabbit wearing spectacles, came into the lobby. The coat he was wearing smelled so much of starch that I knew he had to have kept it aside to have something decent to wear. He smiled and stuck out a hand, "Dr. Julian Humphry, pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

"Anastasia Murdoch," I replied, "I had to admit I was hoping to speak to someone about volunteering here as a nurse."

Humphry looked back at the secretary, then turned to me. "Perhaps we should discuss this in my office, Miss Murdoch."

"It's Mrs. Murdoch, actually." I replied as he turned and led the way. His office was on the first floor, tucked away towards the back of the building. I could see a small garden through the windows in his office, men wearing blue uniforms sitting in wheelchairs while nurses tended to them.

Humphry coughed, drawing my attention. "We've found that time out of doors can do wonders for recovery." I smiled, nodding, and he continued. "You said you were hoping to volunteer as a nurse, Mrs. Murdoch?"

"I am."

He winced, "I'm afraid that's impossible."

"Your secretary at least asked if I had experience." I raised a brow, "Is there some reason I cannot?"

"You are not a British citizen, am I correct?" He paused, sighing when I nodded. "I thought so when I heard your accent. American?"

"Yes."

"Well, aside from the fact that legally I cannot take on anyone not from Britain or the Empire, I would not simply for that fact." He glanced away, "Let alone your name."

I sat stunned in the chair for a moment, "What's the matter with my being American? And how will my name cause some issue?"

"To be frank, ma'am, there is a resentment towards your country for not joining in the war." He rocked his head from side to side, "And as for your name, well, I haven't heard any of them say a kind word about the Russians. The general feeling seems to be that if either of those countries chose to pull their weight then Britain wouldn't be sending her men to die."

I swallowed, his words echoing in my ears. "I can assure you, I want nothing more than for this war to be over. My husband is a captain in the Royal Navy, I pray every night for his safe return and for this war to end."

"Be that as it may," Humphry shrugged, "I have no wish to upset men already in a delicate state by making them remember their anger. They may even turn that anger towards you, some of them can be quite violent."

"There must be something I can do," I twisted my hands together. "I run a successful company; I could provide some financial support."

"And we would be very grateful for that, ma'am."

"I want to do more than that!" I stood, looking to the window and pointing to the men. "I can't help my husband, but I can help them!" I must have sounded mad. "I don't have to nurse, but I must be able to do something. There has to be some way for me to help them get better."

Humphry leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. The clock on his bookshelf, which was cluttered with thick medical tomes, ticked away. Eventually, he sighed. "I suppose I could allow you to visit the men almost ready to leave. They've enjoyed having visitors before, helps take their minds off things."

I smiled, "I would be glad to help in any way I could."

"They're still in a delicate state." He stood, coming to join me at the window. "They do enjoy being read to, that would be something good for you to start on with them. No newspapers though, and no war novels. Bring something funny, they'd like that."

I remembered my copy of Around the World in 80 Days, freshly finished. I wouldn't mind reading it again. "I have just the book in mind."

"They may try and draw you into talk about the war, I must insist that you stay quiet on it."

"Of course."

"If you find your time among them acceptable, you may begin to bring in other items. I've heard some of the hospitals are finding great success in teaching the men to knit and sew while they're bedridden, it helps take their minds off things."

"I would be glad to teach them."

He looked aside at me, "And your financial contribution?"

I returned his gaze, "Allow me a few visits with them, and if my presence is helping, we can discuss the exact amount." I extended a hand, and he shook it. I knew my presence would prove helpful, if only to secure more money for the hospital. I could make the men cry and rage and he would still want my money. Part of me couldn't be angry at his greed, it was only for the hospital.

But I wouldn't let the men dread my visits. I would bring chocolate and small presents, I would read to them and be friendly, I would make sure they looked forward to my coming to see them. I may not have children to take care of, but I could do my best to take care of these men.

His first official cruise with the First Battlecruiser Squadron was giving Will a case of nerves. Their course had already been plotted out, a thrust into the North Sea, south through Dogger Bank and then back up. It would be several days of being out in rough weather and Will insisted on the Unicorn being at full battle readiness.

Tyne had pursed his lips when Will had given that order days before they left, "Sir, it's common practice in the Navy to remain in a state of preparedness until a report about the enemy comes in."

Will had looked to the other men on the bridge, then back to Tyne. "Are the guns loaded then?"

"No, sir."

"What about the torpedo tubes or the damage control crews, are they ready to respond at a moment's notice?"

Tyne swallowed, "No, sir."

"I want us ready to respond in an instant, Mr. Tyne." Will gave him a small smile, hoping the lad didn't think he was going to get a dressing down in front of everyone. "From my experience, a U-boat could appear at any minute. I would rather we be ready to deal with it at once rather than take a few minutes."

"It will tire the men, sir." Nettles spoke up, "Perhaps we should adjust the watch schedule to allow them shorter shifts?"

Will nodded, "That would be acceptable. Mr. Tyne, why don't you work with Mr. Nettles on drafting a schedule for the various departments? I can stand your watch up here." Will watched the two head off, knowing that the other officers were judging him. He wanted them to feel they were able to speak their minds and not be punished.

But they also needed to respect his position.

Will enjoyed being on the bridge, watching as the final preparations were made for the cruise. They weren't the first ship going out, but they weren't the last. They had their own escorts, cruisers and destroyers that would screen him to ensure the safety of the battlecruiser. He felt strange seeing the Peterel leading their escort out, he knew the ship was in better hands now but he still remembered Bligh's disdain and hatred.

But Quigley was a better man, a better captain and he knew he would perform well. Will made a note to himself to get to know the captains of his escorts once they were back. When Ana had her house she would likely enjoy hosting a party and inviting them. It would certainly be better than Ethel's party, he knew that for sure.

They were out of the safety of the Firth now, the Unicorn beginning to pitch in the waves. He almost sighed at breathing in the spray, the familiar scent of salt and sea a comfort after so much time spent in port. It felt good to be sailing again, and he felt a swell of pride as his ship handled the waves with ease. The pride only grew as he took in the sight of the ships around him, fanning out in lines to scout ahead.

How could the Germans think they could win against the Royal Navy? Their ships were fewer, smaller and badly armed, the Royal Navy would easily win any battle. Even with the U-boats, underhanded and criminal as they were, they barely stood a chance. Will had no doubt this cruise would end without any conflict, the Kaiser's navy too afraid to leave port. That wasn't any reason to be lax though, he still remembered that deck gun blasting away the bridge of the Peterel.

He found himself rubbing his scar that night in his cabin, looking through his letters. He had plenty of letters from Ana to read, some from Harold Lowe who had his own assignment, but he reached for one from Lights. His friend's scrawl, somehow both hurried and yet sprawling, ran across the page.

Captain William Murdoch,

I certainly hope I'm addressing that right, I'm given to understand that letters between captains tend to get published after a war. Oh yes, you read that correctly. I am now Captain Charles Herbert Lightoller, of His Majesty's Torpedo Boat 117. I know you're laughing at that, but not all of us can get handed a battlecruiser as their first command. I will catch you one day, you Scottish bastard, and then I'll be the one buying the drinks.

You can buy one for me on our next leave though, as is traditional for a new father.

Sylvie sent me a message as soon as she could after the delivery, a healthy girl. Claire Doreen, the name was all her. Apparently, your wife was a great help and Sylvie is sure that she'll be a wonderful mother. You need to get a few weeks of leave off and tend to that, I can gladly give you advice. I'm sure there's some way to arrange for us to have leave at the same time, our ladies would love to see us.

Two captains returning home to their wives, it's like something out of a book.

Did I mention I also managed to get stationed closer to her? The Dover Patrol may not be as glamorous as the First Battlecruiser Squadron, but it's a hell of a lot closer. And safer, you make us all worry up there. If there is some battle Will, don't be a hero and risk yourself. You'd have too many who would miss you, myself included.

I suppose I should end this, a Captain has his duties to attend to. The first drink when we see each other will be on you!

Kindest regards,

-Captain Charles Herbert Lightoller

Will shook his head as he set the letter down, a smile on his lips. A new Lightoller girl, the world would never be the same. Those children had it in them to drive the kindest, gentlest soul to murder, and they had been inflicted on his wife. He knew Ana could handle herself, but hopefully she would still want children after dealing with that brood.

It did sound as if she had acquitted herself well though, and Will leaned back in his chair. He couldn't stop thinking of Ana greeting him with a baby on her hip. He hardly cared if their first would be a boy or a girl, all he wanted was for Ana and the child to make it through the delivery. She would be a good mother, he knew that for sure if she had survived a week with Light's children. Given that she had Sylvie's approval, he was certain of it.

He had letters from Ana to page through, dozens of old ones in his trunk, but none of them mentioned children. She never wrote him about the possibility of a pregnancy or mentioned if her monthly was late. Her letters were filled with reports of secondhand New York gossip, details about the business, and how much she missed him.

He read those parts quickly, for it hurt too much to read in detail about how she wanted him.

Will kept one of Ana's letters by his bunk, reading it before falling asleep. It had become a bit of a habit for him, for it usually meant he dreamed of her. Ana dancing with him, teasing him at the dinner table, Ana naked and waiting for him in bed. It made the mornings far more endurable when he had to wake up and find himself away from her. He always had his dreams, waiting for him at the end of the day.

When he arrived on the bridge that morning, saluted and acknowledged by every man, he turned to Tyne. "Anything to report, Mr. Tyne?"

"No, sir." Tyne, standing by the wheel, shook his head. "There has been no sign of the enemy and no signals to prepare for battle."

Will pursed his lips. "I will never understand why the Navy insists on signal flags when we all have perfectly good wireless sets."

Tyne shrugged, "They're worried the Germans will intercept the signals and decode them." He grinned suddenly, "We're already doing the same with theirs."

"And look where that has gotten us," Will snorted, "Looking for an enemy that hasn't even left port."

"Too scared of us, sir." The quartermaster on the wheel spoke up, "We'd send them all to the bottom."

Will pursed his lips, turning to the bridge windows. Dozens of ships, thousands of men, all out for a demonstration that the enemy likely wouldn't even see. Their only audience would be U-boats that took a brief glimpse before diving and setting course for an area where there would be merchant ships, unguarded and ripe for the picking.

He wished they could sail farther south than Dogger Bank, he'd prefer to sail through the channel and come out where they could actually do something. Protecting merchant ships, especially Ana's ships, would be a better use of their time. Ana assured him in her letters that the Germans were avoiding all American ships after President Wilson had threatened some kind of action, but there were so many British ships that lacked that protection.

It wasn't even as if they could arm themselves, any armaments would make them warships and legal targets. He pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing that things could just settle. The war was accomplishing nothing but killing men, sinking ships and starving people. Germany should just withdraw to its borders and accept terms, there was little to gain.

He blew a breath out, shaking his head. That was for the politicians to decide, Will was to follow orders given to him by his admiral. Which meant being away from his home and wife, sailing in rough seas and rattling his saber to ward off an enemy that barely stirred from their base. He couldn't speak of it as foolishness, not if he wanted to remain in command.

Will assumed a neutral expression as he stared out the windows, taking reports from various departments and giving the most basic orders. It was all he was good for.