Chapter Text
The pub was packed.
Everywhere Aaron looked there were crowds of people, jostling each other left and right, fighting their way through the hoards. They carried bags on their backs and dragged battered trunks across the floor, all their worldly possessions crammed inside them. At the bar, men called for beer, dropping coins onto the counter and clinking glasses, toasting their futures. Women hovered further back with their children, some younger ones crying against the din of the people, their mothers hushing them and rocking them gently on their knees. The children were oblivious to the buzz in the air, the thick layer of anticipation hanging over them, but Aaron could feel it. It thrummed in his veins, in his fingers tapping a staccato rhythm on the bar top, in his left knee bouncing up and down restlessly. For the fourth time in the last ten minutes he check the clock on the wall.
One hour to go.
Aaron dragged his own bag closer with his foot, throwing a glare over his shoulder at the men staggering into each other, already a little worse for wear. He took a deep, steadying breath, sucking the grey clouds of cigarette smoke into his lungs. The smell made him want to light up himself, but he didn't want to waste any more tobacco, not this close to boarding. The beer glass in front of him was mostly empty, a small puddle of condensation pooling around the base, and he pushed it away. The yellow sunlight beaming its way in through the cloudy windows made the beer look even paler and even worse than it had tasted.
Aaron turned away from the bar, shuffling around on the stool and pulling his bag closer again. He reached into the inside pocket of his overcoat, fingertips grazing the thick paper there, and exhaled slowly, patting it again to be sure.
"Pint please, Rosie," a voice said next to him. Aaron glanced to his right, his ears picking up the familiar lilt of a northern accent.
A man around his age was leaning on the bar, grinning at the barmaid. He had a scruff of a beard around his jawline, and his tanned skin spoke of hours spent working outside. Aaron stole a look at his forearms, the toned muscle there confirming his suspicions. Even though Aaron was sat down he could tell this man was tall, broad too, though most of it was hidden under a bulky overcoat. His hands looked strong, large as well where they curled into loose fists on the bar top, calluses that spoke of manual labour on his thumbs, matching the ones on Aaron's.
The barmaid thunked a full glass down and Aaron snapped his eyes away, glancing around him to make sure no one had seen him looking. He didn't need any trouble, today of all days. He shifted a little again, clearing his throat.
"All right, mate?" Aaron started, looking back to see the stranger smiling at him. "Sorry, didn't meant to make you jump. I’m Adam." He held out his right hand.
Aaron swallowed, and then reached out to give the man- Adam's- hand a shake. "Aaron."
"Good to meet you. You boarding today as well?"
"Looks like it," Aaron said a little bluntly. He offered Adam a brief, apologetic smile, hoping it came across as friendly.
Adam grinned back. "Me too. Can't wait, man, been looking forward to it for months! Are you return or one way?"
Aaron patted his jacket pocket again, reminding himself to breathe. "One way."
"Same," Adam nodded. He slapped his palm on the wooden bar top. "New York here I come! I'm not planning on coming back to this hell hole any time soon."
"Oi, you watch your mouth, Barton!" the barmaid piped up from a few feet away. "Them Americans don't do beer like we do, you'll be back in this bar before you know it!"
Adam guffawed, then grabbed for his pint, draining half in one go. "I'll miss you too, Rosie," he called back with a wink. The barmaids' cheeks flushed red and she ducked her head, fringe falling in a curtain over her eyes.
"Always had a thing for me, that one," Adam told Aaron confidently, tipping more of his beer down his throat. Aaron watched him look at the clock on the wall and then set his glass down. "Right I'm gonna go get in line before all this lot; I wanna get first dibs on the cabins." He hefted his battered brown bag onto his shoulder. "You coming, Aaron?"
Aaron’s stomach twisted. He took a breath and then nodded, standing and lifting his own bag into his arms. "Lead the way."
**********
"For God's sake, man, will you mind what you're doing with that?!" Jack’s voice bellowed out across the quayside. "Do you have any idea how much that's worth? If any damage comes to it I will be holding you personally responsible, do you understand?”
Robert ignored his father's ire, eyes fixed on the huge ship docked in front of him. All the drawings and newspapers he had read over the past few months had not done the Titanic justice; she was bigger than they'd said, more luxurious than they'd promised, and more exquisitely crafted than Robert had ever imagined she'd be. She towered over the people below her, regal and beautiful, making them all look like ants scurrying around an anthill. As soon as they had received the invitation to travel to America on her maiden voyage, Robert had followed her progress in the papers. It was only when they'd announced that she was ready and finally docked in Southampton that it had all felt excitingly real.
America. New York, specifically. He knew little about it, only that it was a hub of developing businesses and major contacts ready to forge deals with. Whilst Jack was virtually rubbing his hands together at the prospect of expanding the business, Robert just wanted to see the place. The people, the city lights, the awe-inspiring Statue of Liberty. The statue had been standing for almost thirty years already, and Robert had yet to see her. He’d never confess it to Jack, but all he really wanted to do was explore the place, see the sights. Forget about fancy dinners spent talking business with the men and flirting with young, eligible ladies. Not that he’d be doing much flirting, though, not anymore.
"Robert, darling? Will you hold this for me, please?"
Robert turned, meeting Chrissie's eyes and giving her a brief smile as he reached out and took the large hexagonal hat box from her. "Of course."
She was dressed immaculately, though she must have been warm under the April sunshine in so many layers of fabric. Her rose pink floor length dress just grazed the top of her black heeled leather boots, paired with a matching silk shawl. The hat perched on her immaculately curled hair was so wide brimmed Robert didn't want to get too close in case he was jabbed in the eye by a wayward feather. There were three more hat boxes along with the one he was holding, all being carried past by a line of stewards, carrying them onboard to their staterooms.
More and more of Chrissie's luggage appeared from behind the motorcar she'd arrived in, and Robert wondered to himself how much luggage one needed for a trip such as this. They weren't even planning on being in New York for too long, anyway. Although, Robert supposed, he ought to know Chrissie well enough to expect this sort of thing. They’d been officially courting for just over a year now.
He turned to look behind him, watching a number of families all gathered together. They were all behind a rope barrier, preventing them from getting too close to the ship. Mothers pressed kisses to their son’s cheeks, straightening their caps and patting their shoulders in farewell. Small children clung to the legs of their brothers and sisters, confused by the commotion but just old enough to understand that they were leaving. It occurred to Robert that perhaps some of them were leaving for good; maybe they were going to New York to build new, permanent lives for themselves, with no intention of looking back at their old lives here. Robert shook his head to himself. As much as he wanted to see the world, he couldn’t imagine not coming back to England. It was his home.
"Ah, there you are. They’re ready for us.” Robert turned to his left to see his father approaching him, clapping a heavy hand down onto his shoulder. He sighed appreciatively, looking up at the ship. "Isn't she a beauty? They've done well with her, I'll give them that. Once we've settled in onboard Mr Andrews is going to give us a tour."
"I see," Robert replied blandly. He'd read so much about the designer of the ship that he felt like he'd met him already. "I'm afraid I'm feeling a bit tired from the journey, I might just keep to my cabin for a few hours."
"Oh, come now, Robert," Jack said, an edge of steel to his voice. "Show a bit of willing! You're not the only one who's had a long journey today. Besides," he lowered his voice. "Chrissie is our guest, and we need to be the best hosts we can be.”
“I know, I just meant-“
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” Jack interrupted. “Keeping her on our side is important, what with her family connections. Once the engagement is underway we-“
"Father," Robert hissed. He checked Chrissie was out of earshot. "Please. There will be no engagement just yet."
"For goodness sake," Jack said, his voice turning hard. "How many times must we go through this? I invite you to remind yourself of your place in this family. I am working hard for the sake of our business, for the sake of your future! It will all be yours one day, so if were you I would think long and hard about the...commitments you make. It would be foolish to let an influential girl like Chrissie go, especially with her wealth-"
"Please," Robert said again, a grimace passing across his features. "Can we discuss this later?"
Jack opened his mouth to argue, but then a figure appeared at his side.
"I'm so sorry to interrupt." Chrissie smiled sweetly. "But they're going to take us aboard now."
"Thank you, my dear.” Jack said politely. He turned back to Robert. "Well? Are you ready?"
Robert didn't miss the emphasis on his words. He stole one last look at the dock behind him, at the people all waiting to wave their loved ones off, white handkerchiefs ready. He took a deep breath, turned back to look up at the great hull of the ship, and nodded.
**********
"Come on!" Aaron strode on ahead of Adam. "I’m having the top bunk!"
Adam’s laughter bounced off the walls of the corridor as he followed on Aaron's heels. "No chance! You'll have to fight me for it, mate!"
Aaron grinned, peering down the long corridor and dodging past two women coming in the opposite direction. He hadn't minded the prodding and poking he'd had to endure in his health checks, answering no to all the questions about diseases and letting them roll his eyelids back and look through his hair for lice. The only nerve wracking bit had been the ticket inspection. He had no reason to be fearful, but the way the officers all stood there in uniform and looked him up and down had made him feel like he’d done something wrong. Once they'd got past the inspectors a weight had lifted from Aaron's shoulders. He'd done it, he was aboard. A whole new life was ahead of him, a brand new world he could find a little corner of and call his own. All the work had been so worth it; he was free.
By unspoken agreement he and Adam had stuck together, both figuring it was worth sharing with someone they already (kind of) knew than being stuck with more strangers. They were two of the first few on board in third-class, hurrying along to get the best cabin they could. It was like a rabbit warren; carpeted corridors lead off in every direction, all lined with identical white doors. The carpet was soft under their footsteps, the smell of paint still strong in the air. Aaron was used to the hay bales and rickety floorboards of the farm back home. This was all so perfect he almost didn’t want to touch anything.
They opted to head towards the middle of the ship, in the opposite directions to the engines and boilers. Eventually, they found themselves in a little corridor off the main hallway.
"Oi, here looks good," Adam said, poking his head through a doorway.
"Suits me," Aaron said, bundling past him and chucking his bag on the top bunk. There were three double-bedded bunks crammed into the tiny room, all set out with matching bed clothes, one little white sink in the corner and a single narrow wardrobe beside it. Aaron hefted himself up into his bunk, shrugging out of his jacket and crossing his legs under himself. He watched, amused, as Adam puttered around, opening and closing the wardrobe door and turning the little silver tap on and off at the white porcelain wash basin.
"Wanna go explore, then?" he asked when Adam had sat heavily down in the bed underneath him.
"Reckon we ought to wait a bit, yeah? Don't want people turfing our stuff out when we're not here."
"Good point." Aaron exhaled, stretching out and laying down, folding his arms behind his head. He shifted a little, not used to lying on such a soft mattress. A weary ache began to settle into his bones as the stress and nerves of the morning caught up with him, and he let his eyes slip closed. He knew he couldn’t sleep now, though, not when there was so much exploring to be done.
They both listened to the sounds of more people settling into the cabins around them, footsteps treading up and down the corridor outside. After a few moments of quiet, Adam spoke up. “So," he said conversationally from his own bunk beneath Aaron. "What's your story?"
"Huh?" Aaron opened one eye.
"I mean, what are you doing going all the way to America?"
"Oh," Aaron opened his other eye. "I guess I just want a change of scene."
"You can get a change of scene by going to the seaside, mate, not America. Come on, spill."
Aaron shrugged, though Adam couldn't see him. “...I don't have anything keeping me here anymore, you know? I lost my mum a few months back, my little sister got married and moved away. Don't have a dad. Saw an advert for this when it was being built, and just decided when it sailed, I'd be on it.” He released a slow breath. “Fresh start, I s’pose.”
"Must have been tough for you," Adam's voice came a few moments later. "Sorry about your mum."
"It's ok."
"Hey, I know your accent though, don't I? Yorkshire lad."
Aaron smiled. "Yeah. Emmerdale farm, do you know it?"
"Sorry, mate."
"S’all right. You're from that way too, aren't you?"
"Yeah, lived up there most of my life. I took over my dad's business when he died, helping my mum, you know. I moved down here about a year ago to try and expand things, bring in some more money."
Aaron rolled onto his side, idly running a finger along the seam of the coverlet folded neatly over his bed. "So why America, if you've got a good business here?"
"Ah," Aaron heard the smile in Adam's voice. "My girl is out there with her family. I'm going to join them. Here, do you wanna see a photo?"
"Yeah," Aaron leaned over, reaching for the photo Adam handed up.
It was a little blurry, but Aaron could just make out a girl their age sitting on a chair, dark hair piled on top of her head and wide, dark eyes smiling out at the camera. She wore a plain, long white dress, hands folded carefully in her lap.
"She's pretty," Aaron said, handing the photo back down.
"She is," Adam agreed. "Her name’s Victoria. Gotta go out and join her now, get settled before the little one comes."
"She's pregnant?"
"Six months along now. Her parents have got a little bit of money, they're gonna give us a loan while I find work. God, I miss her.” He was quiet for a moment. “Anyway, what about you? You got a girl?"
Aaron frowned. "Nah."
"You're joking, mate! Good looking boy like you must have girls following him everywhere!"
Aaron winced, and was glad Adam couldn't see his face. "Not really."
Thankfully, before Adam could press him anymore on that subject, a man knocked on the open door and took one step in.
"These beds free, lads?" he said in a lilting Irish accent.
"Yeah, sure. Come on in."
Aaron propped himself up on an elbow and heard Adam sit up too. Four men dragged their luggage through the door, chattering noisily. Aaron swung his legs over the edge of his bed, dropping down and shaking hands with their new roommates. Just as they had finished stowing bags away and Adam had produced a pack of cards, there's was a deep groaning sound from a way away, coming from under their feet.
"That's the engines!" One of the Irish men cheered. "It's noon!"
A minute later there was the deafening blare of the ship's horn, and then, under their feet, the floor began to move. Unfamiliar with the feeling of being on water, Aaron reached out and steadied himself on the bed frame. He grinned, blood rushing in his veins, something joyful building in his chest. He could almost taste it. Freedom.
"Right," he announced, clapping Adam on the shoulder. "I'm going to look around now, you coming?"
"Maybe in a bit, yeah?" Adam waved the pack of cards at Aaron. "Gonna have a game with these guys first. Might see you at dinner?"
"Yeah, will do."
Aaron shut the door behind him, glancing up at the number and committing it to memory, before setting off down the corridor and towards the nearest flight of stairs, heading up towards the open air.
**********
Robert stood on his own private promenade, looking out at the rippling ocean. After a lengthy tour of the ship and a welcome reception complete with a band playing jaunty tunes on violins, he had finally managed to escape the clutches of both Chrissie and his father. He was glad for a moments peace. The sun was already beginning to set, so he didn’t have much time to settle into his rooms before he would be required for dinner. Robert hadn't started on his unpacking- apparently there would a steward along to help him with it imminently.
His cabins were very well furnished, he had to admit that. He had been promised luxury, and it had been delivered tenfold. He had a gloriously big bed, with brand new crisp white sheets and a dark oak headboard, and a chaise opposite the bed covered in a rich, deep green material. The walls were painted white, with large panels of intricate wallpaper the same colour as the chaise. The ceiling had been painstakingly finished, gilded with gold paint. Just off the room was an adjoining private washroom, with a flawless porcelain sink and gleaming silver taps. Through another door there was a lounge area, with a lush green velvet settee and small oak table and chairs set out in front of the fireplace. By the front door to his stateroom there was a bell so he could summon his steward, any time of the night or day. At least he would be comfortable there for the trip, and he would have some privacy from his father and Chrissie.
There would be plenty of places for him to go; with a gymnasium, baths, and a swimming pool, there was no shortage of hiding places for him if he needed them. If he wished, it might be possible to avoid all other people entirely by just being on the opposite end of the ship.
While he waited for a steward, he walked the short way back to his room to his luggage, locating that evening's dinner suit and hanging it up in preparation so it wouldn't be creased. He steadfastly ignored the inside pocket of his case, pretending that the small square velvet box inside simply wasn't there, and went back to his promenade.
After a few minutes more, there was a soft knock at the door. Robert moved through the suite, opening the door to find a young, dark haired steward stood there, a silver tea tray in his arms.
"Tea for you, sir," he announced, and Robert moved back to let him through. He set the tea down on the small round table with a clink and then stood straight again, hands clasped smartly behind his back. "If you'd allow me to unpack for you, sir?" he asked.
Robert waved a hand wearily. "Thank you. If my family knock for me would you tell them I've gone for a lie down? I'll be up in time for dinner, of course."
"Very good, sir."
Robert shut the door to his bedroom behind him, and then sat heavily on his bed. The mattress felt comfortable, covered with soft, cool sheets, and Robert couldn't resist toeing off his shoes and undoing his tie. He lay down and closed his eyes, intending just to listen to the waves outside for a few moments.
He must have drifted off, for what felt like mere minutes later, there was a knock at the door. Robert stood, pausing to stifle a yawn before pulling the door open. "Yes?"
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, only, I didn't want you to be late for dinner," the steward said. "Your father has been by to enquire after you."
"What time is it?"
"A little after six, sir. Dinner will be served in the dining room at seven o'clock sharp."
Robert's eyebrows shot up. "A little after six? God."
"I am truly sorry to disturb you, sir.” The steward looked a little nervous.
"No, not at all. Thank you for thinking to check on me. Your name?"
"James, sir."
"Thank you, James." Robert dug into his pockets, pulling out a crisp note. "Here."
James' eyes bugged. "Thank you, sir." He tucked the note into his pocket and gave a low bow, and then he let himself out, the door clicking softly behind him.
Robert stripped to the waist, crossing to the bathroom to splash some water on his face to wake himself up. He combed his hair down, patting his cheeks to bring some colour back into them, and cleaned his teeth, before moving to his where his suit hung
The temperature had dropped with the setting of the sun. Robert made sure to put an undershirt on just in case they decided to venture onto the upper promenade, and then buttoned up the thick material of his white shirt, fixing the white bow tie into place. With a quick look at himself in the mirror above his fireplace, he was ready. He paused a moment, trying to school his expression into something cheerful. It didn't work. However he tried, the green of his eyes remained dull and empty. Eventually he gave up, checking his sleeves one final time before leaving his rooms.
Chrissie opened the door to her suite, holding her arm out with a flourish. "Well," she said with a smile, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. "Will I do?"
Robert looked over the black floor length gown hugging her figure. He eyed the large jewelled necklace sitting delicately on her collarbones, matching stones pinned into her elaborately twirled up hair. She had white, elbow length gloves on, and a fur stole in one hand. He had to admit, she looked beautiful.
He leaned forward, taking her left hand and pressing his lips to her knuckles. "Stunning."
Chrissie blushed prettily, stepping out of the door and taking Robert's arm. "Come," she said. "We mustn't be late!"
Robert inhaled deeply, steeling himself, and allowed Chrissie to lead him along.
The dining saloon was enormous, all white walls with pillars every few meters supporting the gilded ceiling. Large round tables were decked out with white tablecloths, adorned with bright white china and sparkling crystal goblets. He and Chrissie were two of the last to arrive, winding their way through the tables to where Jack already sat, surrounded by potential new associates. Jack waved them over, and no sooner had they sat, a waiter dressed in white with a black bow tie was at Robert's shoulder, pouring him a drink. Robert reached for it, the champagne fizzing up his nose.
There were six other people at the table, three couples dressed in all their finery. The jewels around the throats of the women sparkled under the lights of the chandeliers, their laughs tinkling and airy. The men were middle aged, a couple of them quite portly, with thick moustaches and ruddy cheeks. Robert already knew he would be expected to accompany them to the smoking room when dinner was finished, so they could talk people and politics and money until late in the evening.
"And you all know my son, Robert, of course," Jack was saying, gesturing over to him as he spoke. "Embarking on a new business venture with me in the States. I dare say he’ll make a fine businessman, especially if he follows in his father's footsteps!" There was a polite smattering of laughter around the table. "And of course, his companion, the lovely Christine. She's broadening her horizons with us, and I dare say I'll officially be calling her my future daughter-in-law before this trip is out!"
Robert’s heart dropped like a stone into his stomach. He plastered a grin on his face, hoping it wasn't terrifying. Unbidden, his thoughts flicked to the little velvet box in his luggage. A small part of him prayed to whoever was listening that James had managed to lose it in his unpacking.
Much cooing and fawning later, with Chrissie still clinging to his bicep and smiling coyly, the first course was served. Robert chose oysters, and then immediately wished he hadn't. He choked them down, slimy and bitter on his tongue, and washed them down with more champagne. His left knee bounced up and down under the table, and when Chrissie touched his elbow he jumped, startled.
Chrissie frowned. "Are you feeling ok, Robert?" she asked. "You look a little jittery."
"Fine, thank you," he smiled, stretching his mouth into the lopsided grin he knew she loved. "Just hungry, and tired after today, I think." Chrissie smiled back, patting his arm and then reaching for her champagne goblet.
Five courses later, after the lamb, Roberts head was beginning to pound. Jack was insistent on talking about his future business ventures, and every other word was ‘Robert’.
"Of course, once Robert and Chrissie are settled", he said, and then swiftly followed that with, "very special event", and then "proper partnership". All three phrases made Robert squirm in his seat. It was hot in the dining room, far too hot. He couldn't take his jacket off for fear of being impolite, but he was certainly regretting the undershirt he'd put on earlier. Seconds later, when Jack said the words "patter of tiny feet", Robert cracked.
He bolted out of his seat. "Excuse me," he gasped. "I need some air."
"I'll come with you, darling," Chrissie said, moving to stand as well, but Robert held a hand up.
"No, no. No need, I’ll only be a moment."
Robert left the table without waiting to listen to any more protests, trying his hardest to keep his feet from breaking out into a run. He swept past tables full of chatter and laughter and yanked the door of the dining room open before the steward could do it for him. Bolting for the grand staircase, he pushed rudely past a young couple coming in the opposite direction, climbing until he could go no further.
The chill of the night air stung his heated cheeks as he burst through the door to the outside, the heel of his shoes hitting the wood of the first-class promenade. Stumbling a little in his haste, he strode down through the well deck and then up again until he reached the stern of the ship. Finally, he stopped, curling his hands around the white painted railings and letting the sea air rush over him.
The metal was cold under his hands, and he brought one hand up to the side of his neck, hoping to transfer some of the chill into his skin. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the rush of his blood from his exertion drowning out the sound of the waves. The pressed white starch of his shirt felt like it was getting tighter with every breath. He moved his hand to his sternum, fingers crushing the fabric and attempting to pull it away from his skin. Short, rasping breaths left his lips, growing quicker and sharper when he realised that his attempts at removing his shirt were futile.
He shook his shoulders, yanking at his dinner jacket until it fell from his arms and dropped to the deck. Bracing himself against the railings, he fought for breath against the seizing in his chest. The deck blurred suddenly, and he overbalanced, metal digging into his stomach as he pitched forwards.
"Woah, there. Steady," a voice appeared at his right side. Mercifully cool hands put themselves on his chest and back, pulling him backwards and steadying his weight. "Are you ok?"
Robert opened his mouth, but no words would come. He stared at the black ocean beneath him and swallowed down a dry throat. “I-" he tried. "I-"
"It's ok," the voice reassured. "Just breathe. Can you hear me? Breathe steadily, in and out."
The voice was decidedly male, low and gruff, with a hint of an accent at the corners. His hands were still on Robert, and the one on his chest moved, fiddling with the top buttons of Roberts’ shirt until they popped open. He could have cried with relief as he sucked huge lungfuls of freezing air in, his chest loosening immediately.
"In...and out," the stranger was murmuring to him. "Easy, now."
Robert obeyed, and with every inhale and exhale he could feel his heart rate slowing, the roaring in his ears quietening. He was glad of the hands still on him; his legs didn't feel like they could support his whole weight again just yet. Gradually, his breaths came easier, still leaving his lips in shaky exhales, but steadier all the same. He blinked as the world around him came back into the focus, the lights on the deck, the chilly sea breeze, the grounding feel of the railing under his hand.
"Thought you were gonna go overboard then," the stranger said after a moment of quiet. "Was worried I'd have to jump in after you."
Robert scoffed. "You...you wouldn't have done anyone a favour by jumping in after me.” He stopped himself, remembering his manners. Slowly, he straightened up, getting his balance back. The man’s hands fell away. "I'm sorry," he faced the stranger. "Thank you for your...assistance. I'm not sure what came over me."
The man just shrugged, looking out over the sea. "You looked like you were in trouble."
Had Robert been with his family, they would have recoiled at the man’s obviously lower social standing. The shoes he wore were battered, the sole peeling away, and his dirt-brown trousers were patched up on the left knee. They were held up with a pair of braces that could have been white at some point, and his tan coloured shirt was unlaced at the neck. All this, matched with a tattered flat cap, screamed ‘third-class’ to Robert.
But he did his best to push aside his prejudices, all too aware that this man had offered his assistance when he had no obligation to, especially when it was to someone dressed as Robert was. And in the deepest, darkest recesses of Roberts' mind, he was also aware of the scruff around the man’s jawline leading up to his straight nose, the piercing blue of his eyes when they met his own. The man held his eye, and then glanced down to the open collar of Robert’s shirt and then let his gaze drop to the deck below them.
"Well, thank you," Robert said into the night air, only a little awkwardly. "I appreciate the help….?"
"Aaron. Dingle."
"Aaron." Robert tasted the word on his tongue. "Robert Sugden," he offered his hand, aware that his fingers still were still trembling a little.
Aaron eyed it for a moment before he grasped it and they shook. "Nice to meet you," he said politely.
Robert nodded. The sweat on his back and at his temples was beginning to cool, sending a shiver up his spine. He'd already been away from the table for too long, someone was bound to coming looking for him soon. He still felt a little shaky, and he knew he ought to get himself somewhere warm quickly. Instead of of leaving this scruffy stranger behind, though, he found himself opening his mouth again. "So...how did you manage to find your way up here?"
"Why?" Aaron shot back, and Robert cursed himself for his tactlessness. "This is our section of the deck. I’m allowed to be here. What are you doing up here?"
Robert held his hands up, shaking his head a little. "Forgive me, that’s not what I meant. It’s just that it’s quite late at night...”
He saw the fire retreat from Aaron's eyes, watched his hackles recede. He took a breath, let it out slowly. "Sorry."
"It's fine," Robert dismissed. "I actually think you should be able to go anywhere you like. What's the point of having a ship this big if you're only allowed to go to certain places on it?"
When he looked at Aaron next, he was met with an expression of confusion mixed with something close to surprise.
"I was just exploring," Aaron said eventually, turning to look out over the water and steadfastly not looking at Robert. "My cabin downstairs doesn't have a window, obviously, so I came up here to have a look. Wasn't planning on staying long."
Robert stared at the side of Aaron's head, wondering with barely contained fascination what it was like down in third-class. "Well," he cleared his throat. "I feel, as a thank you for helping me, I should offer you a drink or something."
"I don't want any thanks," Aaron told him, without any heat in his voice. "Just...maybe don't tell anyone you were talking to someone from steerage, yeah?"
"Tell anyone that I was talking to who?" Robert said, and found himself oddly satisfied with the smile that spread across Aaron's face.
"Robert? Darling?"
Robert snapped his head around in the direction of Chrissie’s voice. He could hear the hollow tap of her heels on the wood of the deck rapidly approaching.
"I should go," Aaron was already backing away.
Robert was torn, looking between Aaron and the ship behind him. "I...yes, I suppose," he sighed. "Thank you, again."
"You're welcome."
Robert watched him hurry away, disappearing into the shadows just as Chrissie rounded the corner and saw Robert standing there alone.
"Darling, what are you doing out in the cold? What’s happened to your shirt? Oh, put your jacket back on!" She reached for the discarded dinner jacket, shaking it out and draping it over his shoulders. "Goodness, you're all flushed, are you feeling unwell?" She pressed the back of one hand gently to his forehead. "You're burning up! Come, let's get you inside."
"I'm fine, Chrissie," Robert pulled his head back from her hand. "I just needed some air. I feel much better now."
"Nonsense, you must be running a fever! I'll send for some tea, come now, come on."
He let her take his arm and guide him back to their cabins, glancing back over his shoulder at the empty deck as they went.
**********
Aaron had had a very strange evening. After exploring the lower decks in the afternoon and then joining Adam for a dinner of pie and potatoes, he’d gone to investigate the top deck. He had only meant to get some air and to look at the stars, but instead he’d managed to virtually save a man's life. A man from first class, no less.
It had been a fair night; cold from the lack of cloud cover, but Aaron didn't mind- lack of clouds meant clearer stars. And they were clear, so bright and shining, just as clear as they were back home when he was a kid, when he'd lie underneath them and try and count them all. He'd always fall asleep before he could, and his mum would come and wake him in the early hours and herd him into his own bed. Somehow, on the sea it seemed like he was closer to her than he had been on the farm.
He'd just been minding his own business, lying on his back on the decking, jacket pillowed under his head, when he'd heard the rapid steps of someone approaching. He'd sat up, sure he was hidden in the shadows, and watched a man hurrying towards the end of the ship. He was tall, with sandy blond hair, dressed in a black dinner suit that screamed of wealth. He'd watched, curiosity shifting into alarm when the man clutched the railings and began panting, breath swirling in the cold air, fingers scrabbling at his shirt. Aaron was no doctor, but he knew when something was wrong, and when the man had staggered forwards, threatening to tip over the railings, Aaron had been on his feet, running over to him before he could think twice.
The man's heart had been frantic under Aaron's hand, rabbiting against his palm as he took most of the man's weight and steadied him as best he could. He'd not even worried about getting the pristine white of his collar dirty when he'd fumbled with the buttons so the man could breathe, his fingers unfamiliar on the expensive material.
Aaron rolled over onto his side in bed, shoving his tingling fingers into his armpits when he thought of touching the skin of the man's neck. Robert, his name was. Robert, who'd looked the part but when he'd opened his mouth said things Aaron hadn't expected him to say. He'd invited Aaron for a drink, of all things. He could only imagine the uproar if people saw Robert in the company of someone like Aaron.
Aaron shoved his face into his pillow, attempting to block out the sound of Adam’s snores below him. He couldn't dwell on what had happened; it only served to stir things up in him he didn't want to think about.
He lay awake until late, the repetitive groaning of the engines finally lulling him to sleep in the early hours of the morning.