Penance (Titanic, M)

[groundcontrol]

Hello all! I'm back again with a story for you guys. I watched Titanic for the first time a few days ago, and the movie has been on my mind ever since. Needless to say, I'm sure you can guess which character caught my eye...  

A slight disclaimer: This fic is notably darker in tone than any other fic I have posted on this website, as I feel the subject matter of the movie warrants it.  I was quite hesitant to post it here, since it is a departure from my usual mindless fluff. That being said, I'm posting it in the hopes that someone will enjoy.

Also, it's a bit long,  so I will be posting it in parts. Without further ado, part 1!

******

Second Officer Lightoller took his place at the starboard watch beside Fifth Officer Lowe as a bitter wind picked up and nettled its way through every stitch in the fabric of his uniform. Lowe touched the brim of his cap in a polite salute, but said no more, not that Lightoller had expected him to. The boy (Lightoller thought of him as such though he truly wasn’t) was the youngest of the officers, and perpetually seemed the proverbial square peg in a round hole, not uncomfortable per se but just shy of it. Whether it was due to his age, his rank, his Welsh heritage, or what have you, Lowe preferred to keep to himself on watches. Which was fine on most occasions in which his and Lightoller’s watches overlapped, but tonight the Second Officer was desperate for some conversation to distract him from his numbingly cold limbs. 

    “Seen the captain, Mr. Lowe?” Lightoller asked, having already commented on the weather.

    Lowe sniffed, looking up from the compass he clutched in one gloved hand. “No, sir. I brought him his tea when he got on watch, but then he went below and I haven’t seen him since.”

    “Very well,” Lightoller said, wishing he could draw anything but a succinct summary out of the boy. His legs were cold enough to feel like jelly. Lowe raised the fist not occupied with the compass and coughed into it, low and husky. Lightoller turned to him. “You sound as though you could use a cup of tea yourself.”

    Lowe smiled ruefully. “Couldn’t we all, sir?” He shivered. “Bitterly cold above deck toni--Isshhh! Heh’TSSH!” He brought out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his nose, sniffling all the while. “Excuse me, sir.”

    “Are you quite well, Mr. Lowe?”

    Lowe nodded. “Just come down with a little cold, sir.” He turned his attention back to the compass, laying the handkerchief aside as he scribbled down notes and calculation of speed and wind direction. The combination of cold air and looking downward caused his nose to run abominably, and even sniffing ceaselessly didn’t prevent a miss from lipping down to his lips. Lightoller tried not to watch.

    Suddenly Lowe took a step back from the table and logbook, keeping his hands on the pages and compass but wrenching his upper body as far away from his senior officer as possible and sneezing into his shoulder. “Heh’nngSHH!”
   

“God bless you, Mr. Lowe,” Lightoller said, faintly shocked by the sheer force of the expulsion. 

    Lowe blushed, wiping at his nose with the handkerchief. “Pardod me.” Shivering, he rubbed his gloved hands together a moment before delving back into the same task as before, keeping watch and noting any slight changes while the captain was below.

    “So much for health inspections, eh?” Lightoller said after Lowe’s sixth sneeze.

    Lowe blinked, startled from his almost mechanical routine by the comment. “Sir?”

    “The White Star Line vowed they had physicians at port to make sure all passengers were in perfect health before boarding,” Lowe said, gesturing to his junior officer with a nod. “Looks like some of them didn’t do their job, else you wouldn’t be sneezing like that.”

    Lowe merely shrugged. “It’s to be expected, sir. Colds always seem to catch on any ship after we’ve been back at port. The Titanic, fine as she may be, is no different in that re-heh-regard--heh’tschoo!”
   

Lightoller grunted. “Probably came from steerage. God knows that lot doesn’t know how to clean up properly.”

    Lowe cleared his throat, though not out of immediate necessity, and he looked out to sea darkly. “I could’ve picked it up anywhere, sir.” The slight bite to his words was the most emotion Lightoller had yet gotten from the boy. Perhaps he felt in some way indebted to stand up for the lot below; Welshmen and Irishmen were a type of kin, were they not?

    The minutes of the frigid watch slid by with naught but a worsening of Lowe’s cold. He’d taken to keeping his handkerchief pressed against his nose perpetually, and he’d started coughing as well. Lightoller did his best to ignore the boy’s plight; after all the junior officer did suffer in relative silence, not offering one word of complaint about his condition. But there were only so many miserable sounding sneezes Lightoller could stand to bear witness to.

    “Heh’ISSHH! Ihh’KSSH!” Lowe remained slightly bent, pinching his nose through the folds of the handkerchief to wipe it clean.

    “Mr. Lowe, how much time is left of your watch?”

    Lowe consulted his watch, and Lightoller detected exhaustion in his voice, tightly veiled as it was. “Just over two hours, sir.”

    “And who is due to relieve you? Mr. Moody?”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “I’ll send for him early,” Lightoller said, and Lowe’s watery eyes grew wide. “Give you the chance to sleep off that cold.”

    “Sir, it’s only eight o’clock!”

    “And all the more rested you’ll be.” Lightoller beckoned a crewman over and told him to send for Sixth Officer Moody. “Don’t worry, you’ll repay him once you’re well.”

    “It’s just a cuh-cold--heh’esh!” Lowe sniffed deeply, a deep flush engulfing his cheeks despite the chill in the air. “I’ll be fine to stand my watch, sir.”

    “And even better you’ll be having slept more than four hours,” Lightoller said, smiling at the boy’s protestations. “The Titanic needs her officers fit as a fiddle, Mr. Lowe. You wouldn’t want to endanger her by nodding off on lookout, would you?”

    Lowe shook his head vigorously. “Of course not, sir.”

    “Mr. Moody,” Lightoller called to the officer as he appeared on deck. “I’m terribly sorry to ask this of you, but would you mind completing the rest of Mr. Lowe’s watch? He finds himself feeling unwell.”

    Lowe shifted his weight nervously to his other foot. “Mr. Moody…”

    Moody saluted smartly. “Not at all, sir.” He pivoted to get a good look at Lowe. “If you don’t mind my saying so, sir, you look like you could use a rest.”

    A slightly forward thing to say to a senior officer, but Lowe didn’t mind in the slightest, accepting it as though it were the sincerest of compliments. “Thank you, Mr. Moody. I shall repay you every minute.” He half-succeeded in stifling his coughs.

    “Take yourself off to bed, Mr. Lowe,” Lightoller said, voice gentle but final.

    “Yes, sir,” Lowe said, saluting, “thank you.” Walking down the hallway to the officers’ quarters, out of the nipping sea wind, felt like the warmest of embraces. Lowe still shivered, hugging his arms to his chest, but he expected the shivers would be slowing soon. By the time he had reached his own room, he was far too exhausted to do anything but head straight for bed. He collapsed upon it, still in his full uniform, just managing to pull the hat off his head and the covers around his shoulders before falling into a deep, black sleep. 

 

 

[RediChalyn]

I. LOVE. THIS!!  I haven't seen Titanic in years now I want to watch it again, not to mention write my own fic about it!!  Amazingly well written hoping there's a part two to be expected?!  Splendid...though it's sad that poor Mr. Lowe will have to spend what are undoubtedly his last days miserable with a cold

[Wig_Powder]

You cannot imagine how happy I am to have found another Ioan fan who's also got a sneezekink. The odds of that seemed impossibly low, and yet somehow I've managed to stumble across four of them in my years on this forum. More than I ever could have dreamed of, and I couldn't be happier.

In regards to this fic...I both love this and feel so bad for Lowe, knowing (or highly suspecting) how this is going to play out. The sneezes are perfect, Lowe's attitude is perfect, the mention of his Welsh heritage is perfect, and your subtle foreshadowing of where this is going is perfect. I'm really looking forward to the rest of this; I just hope you make sure Lowe isn't too miserable by the end. He doesn't deserve that.

Edited June 12, 2018 by Wig_Powder

[groundcontrol]

@RediChalyn Thank you! I'm happy to say, there are indeed a few more parts coming. Also happy to say that while Lowe will have a miserable cold, these won't be his last days! The real Mr. Lowe lived until 1944. 

@Wig_Powder I'm so happy we have our little community of shared interests. When you really do think about it, what are the odds? Thank you for your high praise, and I'd be interested to see if the story plays out how you are predicting. I'll try my best to give him some little spots of comfort too  

Without further ado, part 2! A brief fun fact before we begin: The real Mr. Lowe testified at the hearing after the Titanic's sinking that he'd actually slept through hitting the iceberg because, as he put it, officers got so little sleep that when they got the chance, they were really dead to the world. In this fic, I've just given him one more reason to sleep deeply...

---

 Lowe awoke groggily, his head pounding, unable to decide whether he felt any better or not. He might’ve, if it weren’t for the outrageous, thumping pain in his head. He shifted in bed, pulling the blankets tighter around him and nursing his temples. God, the throbbing was so intense it felt like someone was banging at his cabin door!
   

“Mr. Lowe! Mr. Lowe!”

    So it was someone at the door. Lowe sat up quickly, feeling slightly dizzy at the change of pressure in his head. Why in God’s name was someone pounding at his door so incessantly? A glance at his bedside clock told him it was 11:40; he wasn’t expected for his next watch for another two hours. 

    He cleared his throat, though his voice still creaked anyhow. “What is it?”

    “The captain requests your presence on deck immediately, Mr. Lowe,” the crewman said from the other side of the door. “All officers to report, sir. The Titanic’s hit a berg.”

    Lowe felt his forehead, then his cheek, making sure he didn’t have a fever and wasn’t hallucinating the whole encounter. The Titanic hit an iceberg? When? He hadn’t felt a thing, and the watch was clear when he’d left deck…

    “Mr. Lowe?”

    “A moment, please,” Lowe said, springing out of bed. He looked down, recalling that he hadn’t even put on his pajamas last night out of sheer fatigue, and mused briefly that the laziness had served him well. He ran a comb hastily through his hair, grabbed a few more handkerchiefs, and slapped his cap back atop his head. The crewman at his heels, he ran to the officer’s deck.

    “Mr. Lowe!” Captain Smith bellowed once Lowe had stumbled, panting and heaving, onto the deck.

    “My apologies, sir,” Lowe said, coughing. “I was asleep.”

    “Sleep through the end of the world, won’t you, Lowe?” First Officer Murdoch said, a smirk playing at his lips. 

    “I’ll have none of that talk, Mr. Murdoch,” the captain snapped. Murdoch nodded, eyes diving toward the deck. 

    Mr. Andrews, the ship’s engineer, appeared then, flushed in the face and toting a monstrous scroll beneath his arm. The captain and the officers followed him into the captain’s quarters, shutting the door tightly behind them. 

    Andrews unrolled the scroll, the blueprint of the hulking ship, and pointed at different parts of her anatomy with shaking fingers. Lowe listened in horror as Boxhall and Lightoller relayed information of flooding in the boiler rooms, five watertight compartments taking on the sea. She was built to withstand four of those compartments flooded, not five.

    “She’ll sink,” Andrews said. “I’m certain of it.”

    Captain Smith considered this news for a moment, as though it were a report on the number of plants in his garden. “How long does she have?”

    “An hour. Two at most.”

    Lowe thought his knees might give way at the words. Ashamed, (none of the other officers showed any sign of fear) he did his best to lean against the wall discreetly. “Heh’ITSCH!” No one paid him any mind.

    Captain Smith squared his jaw, turning to his officers. Lowe leaned forward off the wall. “You will ready the lifeboats then. Women and children first.”

    The officers responded as one. “Yes, sir.”

    Lowe moved as within a dream. He still held out hope that he’d wake up to drenched sheets, shaken but relieved that it was all a fever dream. But he was still running aft toward the lifeboats with Boxhall at his side, he was still shouting to the crewmen as they tied ropes to the boats and rigged them on the pulleys. They’d performed this drill countless times over, but that was the thing about drills: no one expected to use them.

[Wig_Powder]

I'm really interested to see how the later events of that night play out in your version. Lowe's actions were to be commended as they actually happened; him having the presence of mind to do it while fighting a cold just makes it even better in my eyes, and not just because of the sneezing thing. There's something magnificent about someone pushing past their weakness to do what they need to do, even if it leads to them collapsing later. Though for us hurt/comfort fans, the collapse is generally one of the best parts, since that's when the caretaking begins...

[RediChalyn]

I see I'm not the only one who's a huge fan haha and yes the real Lowe survived I'm glad he'll be doing so in this fic

[Prongs]

Yesss this is perfect! Thank you. I just rewatched titanic the other day too and I was needing a little bit more of it in my life! Anxious for more

[snowshie]

Tbh I haven't thought about Ioan's role in this movie in ages! I'm digging your focus on the event instead of the love story, which is the reason I haven't watched the movie in years. lol 

[RediChalyn]

11 minutes ago, snowshie said:

Tbh I haven't thought about Ioan's role in this movie in ages! I'm digging your focus on the event instead of the love story, which is the reason I haven't watched the movie in years. lol 

Maybe cause the event was real and the love story was Hollywood?  Lolz

[snowshie]

5 hours ago, RediChalyn said:

Maybe cause the event was real and the love story was Hollywood?  Lolz

Also, the movie was not my cup of tea. Haha

[RediChalyn]

Movie had Leo in it...but then, well I would say what happens to Leo cause it's an older movie so not really spoilers anymore but then again apparently some people still haven't seen it

[groundcontrol]

@Wig_Powder  Wow I couldn't have said that better myself actually! I totally agree. Real life Lowe was definitely a hero, and I've tried to preserve that here with his character in the movie. 

@RediChalyn  

@Prongs Ha, I had a feeling you might enjoy this fic, if your profile picture is anything to go by  I'm glad you're liking it, and stay tuned for more to come!

@snowshie This fic is all of his screentime in that movie multiplied by 100 haha. They should have showed Lowe a lot more, in my opinion; there was a lot of opportunity for character development there. I'm not a big romance writer, so I'm with you on that one! And anyway, I'd personally take Ioan over Leo any day haha...

[groundcontrol]

Lowe coughed harshly into his fist, his throat already protesting his shouting. The first class passengers were filing out on deck now, and oddity of all oddities, the band was accompanying them with an elegant melody. 

    “So no one panics,” Boxhall explained.

    “Well, can they play a little softer?” Lowe said, his voice cracking. “I can barely hear my own voice!”

    They worked this way for a while, directing the crewman, hauling ropes and boats, until Lightoller screamed for Lowe to come forward to where he stood, pinned at the rails by an unruly mob of men.

    “Lowe, keep these bastards back!” he shouted, shoving at a beefy man who shoved him back so hard he would have toppled overboard had Lowe not caught him. Lightoller drew his pistol. “Back I say, or I’ll shoot you all like dogs!”

    The threat quieted them for a moment, enough for Lowe to shout hoarsely to implore people not to panic. With Lowe at his side, Lightoller continued to shout for women and children to load onto the lifeboat. Finding none ready at hand, he gave the command that the lifeboat be lowered, half-full.

    Lightoller caught Lowe’s wide-eyed gaze following the boat’s descent into the water. He caught Lowe by the arm before he could speak. “One word from you, and there’ll be chaos as you’ve never seen, do you understand?”

    Lowe swallowed heavily. “Yes, sir.”

      Coughing relentlessly into his shoulder, Lowe helped haul women and children onto the next lifeboat while Lightoller fought to quell an increasingly jittery swarm of people. The lifeboat rocked on her riggings as her passengers reached to their husbands and older sons left behind on deck. 

       Lightoller saw a disaster was imminent if order were not imposed soon. “Lowe, you man this boat!”

      “Aye, sir!”

       Lightoller cocked his pistol and pressed it into Lowe’s palm. He shivered at the contact with the cool metal, and then swung himself by the rope into the boat. 

       All before him was a swimming mess of panicked faces. “Everyone stay calm! Please!” he shouted. His voice broke on the second word. The lifeboat was being lowered steadily into the water, but the people scrambling within it rocked it like waves. The port side dipped suddenly as two men made a mad grab for her side. 

       “Stay back!” Lowe shouted, though his voice was so hoarse he doubted they could hear him. “Stay back, the lot of you!” His commands, even if they were loud enough to be heard, fell on deaf ears. Two more men, then three, then four, all tried to clamber aboard. 

        Desperate to keep the tiny boat steady, Lowe pointed his pistol skywards and fired three shots. Instantly, the men fell back and the lifeboat continued her descent in a hush. Lowe had never had cause to use a pistol before. 

    Once the boat had reached the water at last, Lowe commanded the oarsmen to row. He did not like the way the women on the boat looked at him, clutching their children to their breasts as though he were a monster who would devour them alive. He hadn’t wanted to shout, hadn’t want to fire the pistol, but he’d had no other choice,  hadn’t he? With all the tumult and disarray, the boat would have surely tipped and spilled them all into the frigid water. 

    Slowly but surely, the oarsmen put more distance between them and the sinking behemoth. The adrenaline that had seized Lowe since the moment he’d reported on deck ekked away slightly now that he was out of imminent danger, and it was replaced by the heaviness of malaise. He remembered now how unwell he felt, how tight his chest, how chilled his limbs. He hunched over slightly, hugging his arms to his chest as he watched the bow of Titanic plunge deeper and deeper into the black water. He could see his breath and he wished for one of the lifeboat’s blankets, but those had all gone to the passengers. He clenched his teeth against his shivers.

    “Heh’TSSCHH! Hihh’ISSHH! Heh’NGSHH!” Lowe directed the sneezes at his chest, shivering all the more as he reluctantly unfolded his arms to search for his handkerchief. He sniffed vigorously but it was no use; in the cold his nose had already run down his lip. He pressed the handkerchief to his face.

    The woman closest to him shifted, turning her aristocratic nose to the air. “Save us from the water only to have us die of the plague,” she muttered.

    Her disdain grated against Lowe’s temper, already withered from exhaustion. “You can swim, if you'd like to put more distance between us," he snapped, nodding at the water lapping at the boat.

    She humphed and crossed her arms at her chest. Some of the others eyed Lowe suspiciously, and he knew he hadn’t helped his image with his latest outburst, but at the moment he couldn’t bring himself to be ashamed. He watched with the rest of the lifeboat as the Titanic’s lights flickered and fizzled. The wind carried screams from the ship like a low rumble of thunder, and this time when Lowe shivered it was not from his illness.

    “She’s splitting down the middle, sir!” One of the oarsmen cried, but Lowe didn’t need him to tell him. Lowe watched in open-mouthed horror as the great ship snapped in the middle like a branch broken over a knee. The front half of the ship sank beneath the water, and Lowe felt the breath stolen from his already aching lungs.

    The passengers of his lifeboat gasped, handkerchiefs dabbing at eyes, gloved hands covering gaping mouths. The back half of the ship bobbed vertically, then with an almighty swell, began to go down as well. Time had no meaning, no jurisdiction as Lowe watched the finest ship he’d ever served upon sucked beneath the waves. Then the night was black, silent, showing no trace of the Titanic’s ever being there.

    An elderly woman’s voice jolted Lowe from his reverie. “...pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death, Amen.”

    “Survivors,” Lowe murmured.

    “Sir?” one of the oarsmen said.

    “We must go back for survivors,” Lowe said, louder this time. He coughed into his fist, shining his flashlight upon the other lifeboat that was near. Neither his nor the other was filled to capacity, but suppose they turned back to collect people from the water and they swamped the boats and made them capsize? He chewed his lip, precious minutes ticking past as his mind swam.

    “Right,” he said finally, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “I want everyone from this boat into that boat, and tie them together, nice and tight! Move quickly now!”

    Some passengers protested, but between Lowe and the men at oars, Lifeboat 14 was suitably emptied. Lowe left one of the men behind to take charge of the consolidated lifeboat, then headed with the rest back in the direction of where the Titanic had once floated.

    When they got near enough to see debris floating in the water, Lowe called out. “Hello, can anyone hear me?” The night was ghost quiet; his voice didn’t even echo back to him.

    He saw a dark figure floating in the water, and he reached down to lift her. The woman’s eyes stared back at him, unseeing, her skin marble gray like the stone of a sculpture, her hair streaked with ice.

    “They’re all dead, sir,” an oarsman said quietly.

    Lowe shook his head, the pain in his throat nearly unbearable. “Keep checking them! Keep looking!” He could not accept that they were all dead, that his boat sailed across a sea of corpses rather than water. He kept calling out, though his throat was tortured and his voice failing. He vowed to drink all the tea in the world once he was back and safe if only his voice would hold out enough to find every survivor.

    He coughed and spluttered, the sound wheezing in his chest, but this he could deal with. It was his penance. Of all the countless, nameless sea of bodies they’d checked, only six had been living. The lifeboat he’d emptied, hardly weighed down at all with the weight of six people. How foolish he’d been to think the boat would be swamped; it was a miracle anyone had survived so long in the frigid water. If only he’d been faster in deciding to go back, hadn’t wasted the time of consolidating the lifeboats, he could’ve saved more. His chest rattled as he drew in a breath. A line from a poem he’d read long ago floated back to his mind.

    “This man hath penance done and penance more will do.”***

*** from the "Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

[caramelfuzz]

Oh my word this is amazing!! I've never seen Titanic but holy cow I loved this!

[Wig_Powder]

This was great! You really get a sense of Lowe's shock, sadness, and guilt, while also showing he's not perfect when he snaps at the passenger. Excellent job!

Is there going to be any more of this? It's a decent enough place to stop (especially since it hits the theme of penance), but after everything he's been through, Lowe deserves a warm bed and some tea. Probably a hug too, but I don't know if he'll find any takers for that.

(By the way, have you ever seen the Titanic deleted scenes? There's actually a fair amount of Lowe material, including a scene where he looks after Rose. It's very sweet.)

[snowshie]

On 6/13/2018 at 5:41 PM, groundcontrol said:

The woman closest to him shifted, turning her aristocratic nose to the air. “Save us from the water only to have us die of the plague,” she muttered.

    Her disdain grated against Lowe’s temper, already withered from exhaustion. “You can swim, if you'd like to put more distance between us," he snapped, nodding at the water lapping at the boat.

Ha! What a great exchange, and a nice bit of levity in a serious part of the story.

Well done! You handled this part very deftly - this can't have been an easy subject to include. I'm with @Wig_Powder, though. I'd like to give Lowe a blanket and a hug! I'll also check out some of those deleted scenes. Thanks for the heads up!

[groundcontrol]

@caramelfuzz Wow that's a high compliment! Especially coming from someone who's never seen the film  Thank you.

@Wig_Powder Thank you so much! And perhaps you'll like this next part then... I'm with you, Lowe needs a little comfort now and then. And I'll be looking up those deleted scenes right away! Anything to see more of him on screen lol.

@snowshie Aw thank you! Yeah, I was worried about it getting too serious, so I'm glad my attempt at wit worked haha. Wouldn't we all like to give Lowe a blanket and a hug?

Part 4 has arrived!

The Carpathia rescued them after a grueling three hours on the bitter North Atlantic. Lowe could scarcely breathe for the congestion in his head and the pain in his chest. The oarsmen looked at him with worry, but his health was of no consequence. What was important was getting the survivors aboard the rescue ship, warmed and seen to by a doctor. Lowe made sure everyone was aboard before climbing out of the lifeboat himself.

    A crewman of the Carpathia asked for his name, and Lowe provided him with it. Someone draped a blanket around his shoulders, and Lowe huddled into it in relief.

    “The survivors,” he said thickly. “I should like to see if they--”

    “They’re in good hands aboard this ship,” the crewman assured him. “Have a rest, sir. You look ready to collapse.”

    At the crewman’s direction, he took a seat, back against the Carpathia’s railing, if only to appease the man. He'd only intended to sit for a moment before making rounds to check on survivors, as any good officer should. But a steward came and gave him a mug of tea, and Lowe couldn’t help but moan softly as it soothed his tortured throat. He told himself he’d get up when he'd finished his tea, but as soon as the last drop had vanished from the cup, his eyes drooped shut and he was powerless to reopen them. He felt himself shivering. The last thing he was conscious of before falling into a deep sleep was someone tucking another blanket around his shoulders, but at the moment he hadn't a care as to who that someone was. 
*****************

    Lowe, in a hazy state of half-sleep, was dimly aware of a rumbling voice speaking. “Fever,” the voice was saying. “And chills, if the way he’s shaking is anything to go by.”

      He was roused to full consciousness by a hand shaking his shoulder. “Mr. Lowe?” He blinked until his eyes focused on the kindly face of an old, bespectacled man, watching him closely. He had the calm, refined air of a doctor. “How are you feeling?”

      “Sore,” Lowe tried to say, but naught more than a faint crackle escaped his lips. 

      “It's no surprise he's lost his voice entirely,” another voice said. “He was shouting all night.”

       This time, Lowe’s words were a soft but intelligible squeak. “Mr. Lightoller!”
       

“At your ease, lad,” Lightoller said. “You've done your job admirably, but you're ill now and need to rest.”

       “Indeed, Mr. Lowe,” the doctor agreed. “I suspect you have a case of flu, and as such you are in no condition for anything but bed.”

       As if reminded by this mention, his symptoms made themselves known. “Heh’nghsssh! Heh’tschu!” He sneezed monstrously into the blanket, too tired to be ashamed, and snuggled deeper into it. God, he was so cold and he hadn't even been in the water!

    Lightoller winced in sympathy. “I suspect you’d be more comfortable in a bed than on deck, Lowe. Come, let’s get you into one.”

    Lowe accepted Lightoller’s arm to steady himself as he stood up, his body stiffer and achier than he’d ever thought possible. He allowed Lightoller to lead him a couple paces, then stopped.

    “Sir, the rest of the officers--”
 

  Lightoller’s voice was quiet. “It’s just the two of us that made it.”

    Lowe steeled his jaw as Lightoller lead him onwards, feeling dizzy and ready to faint. Murdoch, Boxhall, Moody, all dead. He’d never been close to any of the Titanic’s officers, but this was only her maiden voyage and they had all been decent men. Lowe had counted on ample time to find his comfort with them. Foolish he’d been to take the time he’d had with them for granted.

    “Heh’TSHHOO!”
   

“God bless, Mr. Lowe,” Lightoller said. “We’ll be to your new quarters soon.”

Lightoller lead him belowdecks, to the hallway of the Carpathia where her officers’ quarters were. Lowe felt disgusted; he didn’t deserve a warm bed when so many had had their final rest in the icy sea. His throat was so swollen he could scarcely swallow and his head swam with fever, but what a small price to pay to be living when the fate of any of his fellow officers could just as easily have been his.

Lightoller spoke again, his voice measured but still laced with emotion, and Lowe could tell he was speaking the words he’d been saving the whole journey. “You shamed me last night, Mr. Lowe.” His gaze was at the floor beneath his feet. “Going back for survivors when no one else did. I heard you pulled six from the water.”

      Lowe shook his head at the bitter reminder of his failure. “I could've saved more! I waited too long.”

      “Still, that's six more lives than there would have been.”

       Six! Out of over two thousand! Out of how many hundreds of lifeless bodies bobbing like ghostly buoys in the water. God, he'd never be free of the sight! He shivered as his emotions welled, water collecting at the side of a dam. 

      “Mr. Lowe?”

      One tear came, and then another, and soon he was bawling and blubbering like an infant child after his mother. He'd never felt so awful in his life, so sick, so cold, so helpless. Lightoller would likely have him stripped of his rank for going on as he was, but Lowe couldn’t bring himself to care. In fact, he wanted the punishment; it would be a small part of what he deserved, after all. His head swam with all the moments he had chosen wrong, moments in which he could have saved more people but allowed his own cowardice to be his master. He should have demanded that the lifeboats be filled to capacity, orders from an officer be damned if it could have saved just one more life. He shouldn’t have waited so long to go back, shouldn’t have worried so selfishly about being swamped by survivors. Even going as far back as the evening before, eons ago, if only he had been more attentive on his watch, perhaps he could’ve spotted the berg before it too late…

    A gentle hand on his shoulder called him back to the present. Lightoller watched him, not with anger but with understanding. “When you’re ready,” he said finally. “We’ve arrived at your cabin.”

    Lowe nodded, using his handkerchief to dry his face and to catch a few tired sneezes. “Hep’isshh! Heh’sshh! Eh’tchh!” Lightoller opened the door for him, and Lowe stumbled into bed, unable to keep himself upright any longer.

    “Is there anything you need?”

    “No, sir,” Lowe mumbled. The cabin door clicked shut, and he burrowed into the strange bed, dimly aware that he’d never again settle into his bed on the Titanic. Even exhausted as he was, sleep did not come easily, and he suspected it would be a long time coming before again it did. 

    But sleepless as he was, Lowe was warm and safe at last, and he pulled the bedsheets tight around his shoulder against his chills. He sneezed thrice more, and found himself coughing painfully. He had a feeling he’d be feeling much worse before he felt better, but that was no matter. He would rest for a while, as ordered, and then he would check on the survivors, as any good officer ought to do. 

 

[Wig_Powder]

Aww, poor Lowe. Now I really do want to give him a hug. And I definitely suspected he'd feel some guilt about not being the one on watch when the iceberg came, even though he probably would have been off duty anyway when it happened.

If I could offer one historical fact, though; Lightoller was one of the last people off Titanic, and he spent the night on top of the upside-down lifeboat Collapsible B before the people clinging to it were rescued by some of the boats that Lowe had gathered into a flotilla (though I don't believe Lowe was involved in that rescue). So I'm not sure if Lightoller would feel "shamed" by Lowe's actions, since he wasn't exactly in a position to do the same thing. The sentiment is still a good one for the story, though, and his pride in Lowe's actions mixed with Lowe's guilt comes through even so. My apologies for bringing that up, but I was a fan of the Titanic story long before the movie came out and sometimes the pedantic nerd in me rears her head.

(By the way, if you didn't find the deleted scenes yourself, here they are on youtube; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVqpcSqokkw [No Lowe scenes], https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V_zALDNW3_4 [3:00-3:26 and 10:28-10:36, although this part was actually in the movie], and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_H6EyWt57s [basically everything from 6:40-9:20; I kind of love the fact that Lowe's the one taking care of Rose]. There's also a somewhat alternate ending to the movie, but that's all set in the modern section of the story, so that one's probably less relevant to our interests. Enjoy!)

[snowshie]

Poor Lowe! I love the thought of someone coming around with an extra blanket is just heart-warming. I love how you've fleshed out his character, and love the exchange between the officers. 

@Wig_Powder I'm not well versed in all the details of the event, so that's super interesting (at least to me). And thank you for sharing those links! I hadn't found them yet. Too bad Ioan didn't get more screen time in the theatrical cut, but I can see why they left those scenes out. 

[groundcontrol]

@Wig_Powder Thanks for pointing that out! Looks like I got carried away and completely neglected history on that one haha oops. Good thing I have you to keep me on track! Call this my "artistic license"  (But in all seriousness, I hate it too when things aren't historically accurate, but I didn't research that so the blame does lie with me). Also, thanks for the links!! Too bad Lowe's screen time almost doubled with the addition of the deleted scenes. I liked that he cared for Rose as well awww. 

@snowshie Thank you so much for reading and your kind words!