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Chapter Text

He was doing it again…

Lightoller closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hoping to calm himself and keep his temper from boiling over. It was turning out to be a damn sight harder than he had anticipated.

"Mister Lowe, I asked you to stop tapping that," he said as smoothly and cordially as he could between gritted teeth. The officer in question turned to him, instrument of torture still raised in his hand just above the port side folding table of the bridge where he had been tapping out his own version of morse code.

"Oh, you meant this?" Lowe asked as he tapped the pencil down again.

Lightoller pursed his lips. His free hand behind his back curled into a fist while the other tightened its clasp upon his wrist.

"Yes, Mister Lowe. That very same pencil, unless you procured a different one while I wasn't looking?" Lightoller replied, trying to keep his tone light and not bark an order at the lad to toss the bloody thing overboard before Lightoller tossed him over the side right along with it.

"Not likely," Lowe began as he tapped it on the tabletop again. "You know how stingy Mister Murdoch has become with them ever since…well, never mind why," he finished.

Lightoller did recall the incident in question, the one where Lowe had taken a metal nut he had found and had twirled it on the end of a pencil so vigorously it had flown off, only to land right in Will's cup of tea. After that, Murdoch had hoarded all the pencils on the bridge, and you had to have a dame good reason for requesting one before he would part with any. Lightoller wasn't entirely sure how Lowe had procured the one he had now, but whoever had left it on the bridge was going to get an earful from Will if he ever found out.

And he was going to find out as Lightoller was going to tell him. Someone needed to pay for the misery he had been subjected to for the last thirty minutes.

"Just, put it away Mister Lowe. The sound is grating on my nerves," he admitted. He instantly knew it was a mistake as Lowe's eyebrow rose in response and the corner of his mouth ticked up in amusement. He looked positively satisfied.

"Is it? I find it quite pleasing actually," he said as he rapped out a series of taps on the wooden tabletop, making Lightoller grind his teeth. "Though I could see how this could be annoying to one having to listen to it. Not knowing when the next tap will come," Lowe explained almost gleefully as he paused dramatically, only to quickly tap out another set of loud tink, tink, tinks. "I do like how it bounces off the wood though, don't you?"

That confirmed it. The brat was doing it on purpose.

Why, he wasn't entirely sure as Lightoller had been going out of his way to be kind to him ever since the misunderstanding with the canes. Murdoch himself had read him the riot act that very same evening after supper, when he had so carelessly revealed the purchase of new canes right there in front of everyone, especially their Fifth Officer. He had finally realized there might be an issue between them when they had gotten into a verbal dust up after Murdoch had escorted Lowe to the bridge after visiting the doctor on C deck. After that, Lightoller had made it a point to be extra careful around Lowe, trying his best not to antagonize him, to not be too stern with him in hopes it would help mend their clearly damaged relationship. To be fair, they hadn't really had much of one to begin with as they were still getting to know each other, but it hadn't been quite as fractious as it appeared to be now, and Lightoller wasn't used to being around those who found him disagreeable. It didn't sit well with him at all. But all his efforts seemed to have backfired as matters hadn't improved. In fact, they appeared to have gotten worse. In the three days since their argument on the bridge, Lowe had been very sullen towards him, rarely engaging with him outside that required by duty. Today had been the first time the younger man had spoken more than a few words to him outside a few rather increasingly disrespectful "yes sir's", and Lightoller had hoped they were starting to make progress. So it was rather unfortunate that that progress was resulting in Lightoller contemplating tossing the younger officer overboard.

"Give it here," Lightoller finally ordered. He just couldn't take it anymore.

"What?" Lowe asked, clutching the pencil tightly in his hand as if he was afraid Lightoller would snatch from him, which was a real possibility at the moment.

"You heard me, give it here," Lightoller repeated, holding his hand out and beckoning with it. "You have no need of it and I'm saving you from Mister Murdoch's wrath." He refrained from mentioning this was all more for his sanity than anything else. He could see Lowe hesitating, clearly unwilling to hand his latest distraction over, but also still disciplined enough to not want to obviously disobey a clear order from a superior. Discipline won out in the end and Lowe slapped the pencil carelessly down into Lightoller's hand, poking him slightly with the tip.

"Ouch!" Lightoller exclaimed as he switched the pencil to his left hand to examine his right. The pencil tip hadn't been all that sharp and the angle had been very slight, so he had been startled more than anything else. There was no damage to his hand, which he was grateful for.

"Apologies, sir!" He heard Lowe quickly say and looked up to see a flicker of genuine concern in the young officer's comely face. Apparently he hadn't meant to stab him with the bloody thing. Well, that was good to know.

"No harm done, Mister Lowe. Just a pinch really," he reassured him, rubbing a thumb over the spot in question. "It surprised me is all."

"Oh, well that's different then," He heard Lowe say but the change in tone made him look up again. Gone was the look of concern, only to be replaced with what Lightoller could only interpret as a bit of smugness. So Lowe had been concerned about hurting him, but seemed quite pleased with himself that he had startled him instead? Lightoller could feel his blood pressure rising and his fingers closed tightly around the pencil in his hand. He hadn't ever done it before, but his hand was positively itching to smack that smugness right out of his junior officer. He wasn't sure what game Lowe was playing at, only that he was playing it, and apparently against him.

He was starting to think his gentle approach wasn't working.

"I need some air," Lightoller said as he abruptly turned his back on Lowe and stalked out onto the port side bridge wing, confiscated pencil still gripped tightly in his hand. He walked all the way to the wing cab and crossed his arms over the railing at the opening, leaning against it wearily as he looked down upon the hustle and bustle of the docks at Southampton. He let the chaos down below distract him from his troubled mind.

Down on the docks men were shouting, horses were neighing, and all manner of crates and sacks were being loaded onto Titanic. The pace, though still lively, was nowhere near as frantic as it had been just a few days before. Titanic, with all her delays, had been scheduled to finish loading and take on all her passengers on the 20th, but the company had taken its losses and had decided to delay the maiden voyage even further to the 24th, which was a Wednesday, so they could keep with their normal schedule. White Star had it to where one of their ships would leave England on a Wednesday, while another ship would leave New York on a Saturday. White Star tended to favor tradition over innovation, so the dock workers had even more time now to load up the ship as the urgency had been eased somewhat. The large boarding tower was in place, though it wouldn't be needed for several days yet. It was too large to bother moving again, so work was simply being done around it. Beyond the dock workers, Lightoller also spotted many a lookie-loo, potential passengers and townsfolk alike, all come to see the largest moving object ever built by man. There was no doubt in Lightoller's mind that several of the more well-dressed sight seers he could see from his lofty perch, where in fact future passengers of Titanic that hadn't received the message that the journey had been delayed a few more days and suspected there would be quite the que of disgruntled passengers at the White Star office come the 20th.

Wonderful. More testy individuals aboard this ship.

And just like that, his thoughts were dragged back to his problem with his Fifth Officer. To be honest, he was at a bit of a loss as to how to remedy it. It wasn’t one that could be easily brushed aside as a difference in personalities, as even the most contentious of men were expected to work well together to be an efficient crew to Captain Smith. While Lowe had yet to directly disobey an order from him, the more he thought back on the past three days, the more Lightoller could see that Lowe was skirting closer and closer to that outcome. It had started small at first, with Lowe simply being withdrawn around him. Then he had become a bit more overt in his displeasure with him, not engaging with him at meals, even when asked a direct question, or somehow forgetting Lightoller had been right behind him and closing a door on his face. When he had sent him on an errand, Lowe had taken so long that Lightoller had thought to send Pitman after him before the man had casually sauntered back onto the bridge with only a shrug and an unconcerned, "this ship is long," as his excuse. He had taken to sniping at Moody as well, using that Welsh slang of his that Lightoller found so disagreeable, causing him to repeatedly, though politely, ask him to refrain from doing so. Then he had started in on the tapping today, something Lightoller now realized he must have been doing on purpose to annoy him.

He clearly had a problem on his hands, but he was damned if he knew how to fix it. One thing he did know for sure was that his patience was starting to truly wear thin. He looked down at the pencil he still had in his hand. He had all but forgotten it. He turned it over in his long fingers a few times, marveling at the smooth coating covering the wood beneath, before suddenly standing back up and unceremoniously chucking it over the side and into the water, directly between the ship's hull and the dock Titanic was moored against.

It made him feel marginally better.

An hour later found him in the wheelhouse, folding up the telephone after receiving an update from the Chief Steward, when raised voices from the navigation bridge caused him to look out through the windows. He let out a deep sigh at the sight. Lightoller was trying to be patient, he truly was, but the two most junior officers of their command crew were doing their damnedest to break him, he was sure of it, though one arguably more so than the other.

Lowe was up to his old tricks again and was antagonizing his favorite target, the Sixth Officer, who Lightoller wasn't sure why was even on the bridge as he wasn't on duty yet. Lightoller had warned him off once today, but Lowe being Lowe, had typically blown it off. It was part of the pattern of behavior Lightoller had noticed earlier and was still trying to find a solution to. The Second Officer's instincts had all but demanded he put his foot down right then and there, but he was still being somewhat lenient to make up for upsetting the younger officer at supper a few nights ago over the reveal of more canes.

It had been a mistake, and now Lightoller was paying for it, pure and simple. He had tried and tried to do this the easy way, but Lowe was determined to make everything as difficult as he could concerning him. Well, Lightoller had had enough for one day! When Lowe had let out a particularly vulgar string of slang, causing the fair haired Sixth officer to flush with color, Lightoller took action.

"Oh, I am not having this the whole bloody voyage!" Lightoller finally snapped, storming out of the wheelhouse and banging the door against the wall in the process and startling the two most junior officers. He quickly stomped over to them and pointed his finger in Lowe's face.

"You! The slang stops now. I have made my thoughts clear on this to you before! You are an officer on the grandest ship in the world, not some waif in the gutter, now act like it!" he ordered at the wide eyed Fifth Officer. He had to admit, the sight mollified his ire somewhat. He whirled to face the other officer present and leveled his finger at him. "And you! Stop encouraging him by getting all flustered. It's what he's aiming for after all," he added, and Moody stared at him in affronted disbelief. How was any of this his fault?!

Lowe wasn't even trying to hide his smirk at Moody getting a taste of what he normally had to endure but quickly dropped it when Lightoller turned his focus back onto him.

"You, in the wheelhouse," he ordered him with a stern point towards the back room.

"You, port bridge wing," he then told Moody with an equally stern jab towards his designated location. "If you insist on being on the bridge while not on watch, you can do so out there."

"Hang on, why does he get...?" Lowe started to complain about Lightoller's choice of venue for them, clearly displeased to be banished to the stuffy wheelhouse with nothing to look at but the bleedin compass, while Moody got the cushy bridge wing with its fresh air and beautiful scenery.

"Would you rather go to the chart room?" Lightoller said lowly, giving the younger officer a pointed look. It was a clear warning, one Lightoller hadn't ever expected to give, but he truly had reached the end of his rope. The young officer would understand what he was really saying. Ever since Wilde had found that miserable little cane, and the subsequent misadventure that had followed, including Lightoller's own part in it, a cane was now kept in the chart room. Being sent in there, especially when docked and there was no need for a chart of any kind, could only mean one thing.

Now it was Moody's turn to smirk.

"No sir," Lowe swallowed nervously as he lowered his eyes and quickly slunk around the taller officer and towards the wheelhouse. It was a stark contrast to the rebellious smugness of before, and Lightoller was almost shocked at the difference a sternly delivered warning had on the younger officer.

"I had thought as much," the Second Officer said, mostly to himself as he made a shooing gesture towards Moody who quickly took the hint and scampered off onto the port bridge wing as he had been ordered. Lightoller ran a hand over his eyes and kept it there for good measure. He really needed a break from all this. Already he was second guessing his decision and he simply wasn't used to that. Had he just set their reconciliation back? Had he overreacted and been too stern with Lowe? It didn't feel that way to him. In fact, it had felt positively right to correct his junior's behavior. He recalled the wide eyes and the way Lowe had suddenly looked at him as if he was someone he needed to be wary of, and it had been much more preferable over the borderline insolence of just a few moments before.  Lightoller was no tyrant. He had no aspirations to be feared or to crush opposition to him under his heel. Quite the opposite in fact. But he believed Lowe's behavior as of late had been intentional, at least regarding him as he hadn't observed the younger officer behaving this way towards any of the others, and as Lowe's superior, he was guaranteed a certain level of respect. A healthy respect that kept the integrity of the chain of command intact which was necessary on a ship. Even Wilde and Murdoch, equals in all but rank, still followed that chain of command when required. Lightoller thought of himself as a very easy-going chap, one that preferred harmony over discord, but he also had a limit as to how much disrespect he would allow, and Lowe was certainly toeing that line.

"Good Lord, when did being an officer become so bloody difficult?" he mumbled behind his hand.

"Alright there, Charles?" A voice said from the direction of the starboard opening. Lightoller dropped his hand and looked up to see Wilde walk onto the bridge, a friendly smile on his handsome face.

"I'm thinking of changing professions," Lightoller replied in a deadpan.

"You what?" Wilde chuckled as he came closer, but his smile faded as he took in the frazzled appearance of his Second Officer. "Something wrong?" he added as he stopped before him, genuine concern in his tone that had Lightoller feeling a slight bit more mollified.

In leu of answering, Lightoller simply flung a hand out towards the wheelhouse. He watched as Wilde followed his gesture and turned around to look behind him. Lightoller saw the exact moment Wilde understood what he meant. The moment his eyes fixed upon the only occupant inside the wheelhouse, who was currently moodily staring at the ceiling, the corners of his mouth turned down into a frown and his expression had become much more stern when he finally turned back towards him.

"What's he done now."

It was a statement more than a question, said with absolute certainty that he was right in his assumption, and Lightoller suddenly felt somewhat bad for the younger man. Somewhat, but not enough to not rat him out to the Chief Officer.

"Ever since I brought up those canes, he's been testing my patience in every way possible," Lightoller exclaimed in a sudden rush, relieved to finally get this off his chest. "He has been snippy and disagreeable when speaking with me, when he's not ignoring me altogether, and I believe he is intentionally trying to irritate me.  Just the other day he closed a door on me when I know he knew I was right behind him, and today he was tap, tap, tapping…," he paused to mime the action, "…this…this blasted pencil, over and over again! He's been going after James with that bloody slang of his he knows I detest so much, and when I ask him to stop, he goes right back to it! He had just done it again, right before you came on, and I lost my temper and sent him to the wheelhouse." He paused in his tirade, realizing he was working himself up into a state as he listed all of Lowe's wrong doings against him. When laid out before him like that, he was surprised he hadn't caught on earlier. He dropped his hands to his side and just looked at Wilde in defeat.

Wilde himself had remained silent as he listened, not interrupting. He just stood there solemnly as Lightoller finally ran out of steam. He let the silence between them linger a moment before he finally spoke.

"Why the wheelhouse?" he asked, confusing Lightoller.

"Pardon?" he countered, tilting his head slightly as he tried to figure out what the other man was actually asking him.

"Why did you send him to the wheelhouse and not the chart room?" Wilde elaborated, so matter of fact, his dark blue eyes locked onto Lightoller's lighter ones.

Oh, now he understood. Wilde was clearly asking why Lightoller hadn't delt with Lowe's behavioral problems and lack of respect, to the tune of a cane across the seat of his trousers. He dropped his gaze and turned away from Wilde, taking a few steps closer to a telegraph so he could have something to hold on to, grasping the brass handle in his hand, though careful not to move it so as to avoid an angry phone call from Bell down in the engine room.

"I'm, I'm not really sure," he admitted. He looked back at Wilde who was standing there easily with his hands clasped behind his back, as if talk about physically disciplining one of his officers troubled him not at all. "I did threaten him with it, but I guess I'm just not as comfortable with the idea as you or Will. Or Joseph for that matter. Don't misunderstand," he quickly interjected, raising a hand up. "I don't disagree with it. It's just not something I imagined I would need to concern myself with. I've never done something like that before, you understand, and well…I suppose I prefer diplomacy over escalation and he really hasn't done anything too outrageous," he finished uncertainty. "He hasn't disobeyed me," he pointed out.

"Insubordination is disobedience, Charles," Wilde said lowly. He stepped over to the other side of the telegraph so he could look Lightoller in the eye. "I think you know that. What do you think Captain Smith would have done if you had acted towards him as Harry has done to you?" he asked.

Lightoller immediately felt his throat tighten at the very thought. He had absolutely no idea how Smith would have reacted, only that he never wanted to find out and told Wilde so.

"I can't even imagine, but I would never dream of finding out!" he quickly explained with a nervous chuckle. "That man has made me jump a time or two and I hadn't even been the subject of his ire!"

"And why is that?" Wilde questioned him again.

"Why is what?" Lightoller replied, briefly wondering why Wilde just couldn't come right out and say what he was thinking.

"Why wouldn't you treat him as Lowe has done with you?" Wilde patiently spelled out for him.

"You know why, old chap. He's the Captain for one! He's the master of this ship and I've pledged to serve under him. He out ranks me and I, I respect him and…and…," Lightoller trailed off as he suddenly realized what Wilde had been trying to get him to see. He cocked his head to the side and raised a brow at the Chief Officer. "You could have just told me this you know," he gently accused. "No need to put me through such logical maneuvers. I'm not Harry after all."

"It's more fun for me, " Wilde joked with a soft chuckle, but he quickly became somber again as he regarded him. "But in all seriousness Charles, you are to Harry as Smith is to you. You are his superior and in signing on as Titanic's Fifth Officer, he pledged not only to serve under the Captain, but all those in rank above him. He owes you the same respect he owes the Captain. From what you have told me, it sounds like not only does he harbor a lack of respect towards you, but to your authority as well. You and I both know that makes for a dysfunctional bridge. Refusing to treat you with the respect your station garners is disobedience, and disobedience will not be tolerated on this bridge." His tone had taken on a noticeable hardness that had Lightoller widening his eyes a bit in surprise.

Wilde crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a serious look at him.

"Look Charles. I know you prefer to do things the easy way, that being your nature and all, but Harry tends to lean the other way, always having to do things the most difficult way imaginable for all involved. I don't know why, but he just does. Now I've noticed that you've been quite careful around him, ever since that night at supper, but I have to say I believe you are going about his all wrong."

"Oh, do you now?" Lightoller replied with just a hint of good-natured sarcasm. "Can't say I'm shocked to hear that."

"Now don't you start," Wilde admonished him, pointing a finger at him in mock sternness, but they both knew there was no real bite behind the rebuke.

"Oh no, of course not, sir," Lightoller quickly tossed back, the corner of one side of his mouth curling into a pleasing lopsided grin.

"What I am trying to say is, you can't give Harry an inch, or he will take the bloody whole ship. He pushed you, but you didn’t push back. Do you see?"

Lightoller lowered his head a moment to contemplate Wilde's words. He was right of course. Lowe had pushed him, had tested him, and Lightoller had failed, had backed down thinking it would be the easiest route. But all it had done was make things worse.

"Are you saying I should have smacked him the very first time he was insubordinate?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Of course not!" Wilde exclaimed with a scoff. "Thrashing him is always a last resort. I don't take it lightly and neither should you, but you should have put your foot down in that very first moment. You should have called out his behavior and told him that it was unacceptable, that any more of it would come with consequences for him. You should have given him a clear warning, a chance for him to understand your position and to make his own decision on how he will act from that moment on. Despite what he sometimes portrays, Harry is extremely bright. He's also good about wriggling around rules and regulations if he thinks it will benefit him. The thing is not to give him any wriggle room." Wilde paused, as if remembering something. "How did he act when you became stern and ordered him to the wheelhouse?"

Lightoller thought back, remembering the widened eyes and sudden look of apprehension on Lowe's face, the quick obedience after Lightoller had threatened sending him to the chart room.

"Respectful," Lightoller finally admitted. He looked up to see Wilde regarding him with knowing eyes. "I believe I see your point now Henry. Thank you," he said earnestly. He looked over to the wheelhouse to where Lowe was now making himself a cup of tea, slamming the cup down on top of the built in cupboards inside, and he let out a sigh. He turned back to Wilde. "Do you remember a time when all we had to worry about was guiding the ship?" He was rewarded with a full-throated laugh from the larger officer.

"I will go in and have a word with him," Wilde announced after his mirth died down. He stepped back from the telegraph and turned towards the wheelhouse. "But at some point you will have to settle this thing between you two," he warned, before taking his leave, striding purposefully towards the starboard side door.

Lightoller kept his eyes on Lowe as Wilde stepped inside. The change in body language was immediate the moment Lowe looked up to spy Wilde. It was quite remarkable actually. Lowe had abandoned his cup of tea and had straightened up to face him full on, and all that agitated rebelliousness seemed to flow right out of him. His large brown eyes were locked onto Wilde's, and it was clear the older officer easily commanded his complete attention. It was obvious that Lowe had much more respect for the Chief Officer than he did him. No, it was more than that. It wasn't just Wilde's rank that Lowe appeared to respect, but the man himself. Lightoller was quite sure if Wilde had not a single braid on his sleeve, he would still command the respect Lowe was giving him now as if he had the three braids of a Captain. Lightoller just didn't know how he did it!

When Wilde's finger came out and began wagging in Lowe's face, Lightoller couldn't help smiling widely at the sight.

"Ah, serves you right you little…," he muttered under his breath. He would have liked to continue to watch as Wilde cut Lowe back down to size, but just then Pitman walked onto the bridge, pulling his attention away.

"I say, hadn't I a pencil around here somewhere? I could have sworn…," the Third Officer said as he scratched at a spot under his cap. He looked around him before noticing Lightoller. "Oh, what say you Charles? Have you seen one lying about? I fear Mister Murdoch may be a bit cross with me if I don't return it."

Lightoller kept his expression carefully neutral as he turned his back on the other officer, waving a dismissive hand behind him.

"Haven't seen it, Bert," he called over his shoulder as he casually strolled out onto the bridge wing.

Chapter Text

For the rest of the day, it appeared to Lightoller that Lowe had finally chosen to pull his head in and was no longer actively antagonizing him. He was still sullen and communication between them was undeniably stilted, but it was as a sight better than what it had been when Lowe's passive aggressive antics had Lightoller seriously contemplating chucking him overboard. He wasn't sure what Wilde had said to him in the wheelhouse, but whatever it had been, it had done the trick as Lowe had mostly kept to himself and was no longer engaging in small acts of defiance or deliberate acts designed solely to annoy the Second Officer. When Boxhall had come onto the bridge to relieve him, Lowe had stayed in the wheelhouse until Lightoller had poked his head in to give him permission to leave it, which he did with a silent nod and downcast eyes, quickly escaping into the officers' quarters hallway. Lightoller had watched him go and had shaken his head slightly at the obvious retreat, but a retreat was better than a losing battle and he took it for progress. Boxhall had watched the interaction through the glass of the wheelhouse, clearly aware something had happened between the two of them, but being the gentleman that he was, he refrained from intruding, something Lightoller was grateful for. He didn't really feel like burdening another crewmate with his troubles after he had so liberally done so with Wilde, though he knew he would have a sympathetic ear with the Fourth Officer.

Watches were always so much more peaceful with Boxhall and Moody than with Lowe and Pitman, not that the Third Officer had much to do with that. Lowe just seemed to attract trouble, and with his fiery Welsh temper there, was always more of a chance for drama than with the easy going Boxhall, or the obedient, professional Moody. It was a simple fact that all senior officers had individually discovered and accepted. It wasn't like those watches were dreaded, but simply acknowledged that there was the chance for more excitement when Lowe was on deck rather than not.

If Lightoller was being honest with himself, he didn't mind a little excitement now and again. It was an undeniable truth that eight hours on the bridge while out to sea could be dreadfully boring, and while Titanic had yet to make her maiden voyage, Lightoller had been on enough trans-Atlantic journeys to know that eventually he himself might get a little stir crazy and may even contemplate stirring up a little mischief himself to alleviate it, though nothing of the sort that Lowe had proven himself capable of. Lightoller was well aware of his duties and his rank, and while he had a mischievous streak in him and a history of reprimands from exasperated Captains and even more senior officers that would rival Lowe's, he had learned restraint, had acquired discipline, and he knew when to be professional. All things the young Fifth Officer seemed to be struggling with.

That was another reason Lightoller had found their apparent discord so unpalatable. He could see a small bit of himself in Lowe, and he imagined if they had been closer in age and had started their careers on the same ship, that they may have been fast friends, getting up to all sorts of shenanigans!

But they weren't and they hadn't, and instead of becoming fast friends they had become more like enemies. No, enemies wasn't exactly right as that took both parties to feel that way and Lightoller regarded Lowe as nothing of the sort. He suspected the same may be true for the other officer as an enemy wouldn’t have shown concern over almost stabbing him with a pencil. So how did Lowe see him?

However he did, it was clearly unfavorable at the moment. Lightoller just hoped Wilde's intervention had been enough to course correct their decent into choppy waters.

It was with these optimistic thoughts that Lightoller made his way to the officers' mess with a little less trepidation than he would have normally after his minor confrontation with Lowe. He was in no way under the illusion that all was fine between them now, but he was no longer fearing a spectacle at supper.

"Small steps, Charles," he told himself as he pulled the door open. Inside the officers' mess it was warm and inviting, the smell of fragrant tea and warm bread rolls a pleasantly comforting scent that lifted Lightoller's mood even further. "Hullo chaps!" he greeted those present with his normal energy, noting that not all were present yet, though a goodly number was. To the right side of the table sat Murdoch in his customary spot of first chair, with Wilde mirroring him on the opposite side. Two heads of table but only one truly held that title, though that was often congenially contested by the two officers in question more often than not. Pitman also sat in his customary spot right next to the window on the far right end of the table, a spot he seemed to prefer due to its proximity to said window which he would absentmindedly gaze out of while supping. Lightoller suspected he would enjoy his spot even more once the weather warmed and that window was pushed wide open to allow for the ocean breeze that the small electrical fans mounted on the ceiling could never hope to replicate. Boxhall sat just across from him this time. Out of all of them he never appeared to show a preference, simply seating himself wherever it seemed convenient on any given day, a physical manifestation of his practical and gentlemanly personality, simply seating himself where he would be best suited. As for Lightoller himself, he too was known to switch up his spot at the table once in a while, just for the novelty of it, but most days found him seated to Murdoch's right. He enjoyed the Scotsman's company, though he had already been on the receiving end of his sharp tongue more than once, and since he had little to no chance of usurping the spot at the head of the table, least while watches were still suspended at this hour due to being docked, he preferred the next closet spot. He never liked being boxed in and found the window seats, as appealing as the view was, far too claustrophobic for his liking, though they were really nothing of the sort. He never really concerned himself with it, but perhaps it was for the best Pitman had staked out a claim on one end, and no one else seemed to mind it.

Lightoller doffed his cap and hung it on a hook on the wall next to the rest and began unbuttoning his coat as the others offered their greetings in return. It hadn't escaped his notice that they were two short and he promptly put out an inquiry.

"Not all here I see. And here I thought I would be the last. Any idea where our two youngest are off two?" he said over his shoulder as he shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the bottom hook right under his cap.

"Oh, I'm sure they will be along any minute," Boxhall said from his spot at the table, his tone indicating he wasn't concerned in the slightest as he read from a folded newspaper. "You know how much James hates to miss a meal."

"At least they'd better be," he heard Wilde add as he took a sip from his cup of tea. "It's not like supper time changes from day to day."

"It would do them well to be more aware of the time, especially once we are off," Murdoch injected. He tapped a fork against the tabletop. "I won't be having tardiness on my watch, I will tell you that!"

"Well, I am sure that you will not have to worry about two of us at least," Boxhall replied as he set his paper aside and looked to Pitman across from him. "Isn't that right Bert?"

"Oh, pardon? What did you say Joseph?" he answered him somewhat distractedly as he turned from the window to regard him, almost as if he had been jarringly pulled back into the mess from whatever daydream or fancy he had been imagining in that unfathomable head of his, which was most likely the case.

"Never mind Bert," Boxhall said kindly as he took his napkin and unfurled it. "You go back to what you were doing."

"I'm still doing it," Pitman replied in a perplexed tone. "Sitting here and waiting for my plate. I say, what's the hold up?" he asked as he looked over at the open pantry door where their steward was futzing about.

Lightoller chuckled as he made his way to his seat, next to Murdoch.

"I assume we are waiting on the last of our company to join us," he postulated as he adjusted himself and reached for his own linen napkin.

"Oh fiddlesticks, who is missing?" Pitman replied at bit distractedly as his gaze once more wondered to the window.

Just then the door to the mess opened and Lowe and Moody stepped through, a bit more hastily than expected.

"Oh," Pitman said.

"Speak of the devils," Murdoch murmured.

"You're late, lads," Wilde said calmly, though a bit sternly as he kept his eyes on his teacup.

"Yes, apologies, sir."
"So sorry, Mister Wilde."

The two spoke over each other as they closed the door behind them. Lightoller watched in amusement as they gave each other matching disgruntled looks, whether over their verbal trip up or more likely, over their reason for being late in the first place. It was Lowe who spoke up next as they took off their caps and began working on the buttons of their coats in a swiftly manner, no doubt wishing to not keep their fellow officer's waiting any longer than they had already had.

"Please forgive our tardiness, we had gotten into quite a lively discussion and had lost track of the time." He explained as they hung up their coats and turned back to the table. A lively discussion could mean a spirited conversation that tickled both officers' interest, or a downright argument. Lightoller never could tell with these two.

He watched to see where they would seat themselves, though he had some idea. Moody was rather like him in this regard, sometimes choosing an open seat when it took his fancy, but most likely than not, he would either seat himself next to Lowe or Boxhall. There was no denying that the two youngest officers, being the closest in age, would enjoy each other's company though they did do their damnedest to give all the impression that they couldn't stand each other, and it hadn't escaped Lightoller's notice that James had developed a sort of rapport with Joseph as well. That wasn't hard to believe as everyone liked the easy going, respectable Fourth Officer, but it was nice to see the Sixth Officer finding a confidant in the older man.

Lowe was different. Out off all of them, he was the one that never chose his spot. It was chosen for him. Not at first of course, but after the incident with those dastardly pirates, Wilde had taken to having Lowe sit next to him during meals. Once or twice Lightoller had seen Lowe attempt to choose another seat, only to be stopped in his tracks with a snap of a finger or the cluck of a tongue, and he would resignedly make his way to the Chief Officer's side. Lightoller had asked Wilde about it once, when it had just been Henry and him in the mess after the others had left, and he had answered with a simple, "It keeps him out of trouble." Lightoller couldn't argue with that, though he did share in a bit of sympathy for the younger officer. He too had been subjected to such treatment early in his career when he had been much more of an undisciplined prankster, so he felt he understood a little of what the Fifth Officer might be feeling over this arrangement. But he didn't always appear upset by it and Lightoller suspected Lowe perhaps enjoyed the larger man's company and regard, despite the several times he had experienced his wrath by now. It really was quite a change from that silent outsider Lowe had been at first, more comfortable in his own company than any others, and Lightoller had been pleased to see that they were all coming together into a rather fine deck crew.

That is until recently.

The reminder of his tiff with Lowe soured his good mood for a moment, but he quickly brushed it aside. No need to add vinegar to the recipe when it wasn't called for, so he greeted him cordially.

"Glad to see you two made up," he stated as he unfurled the napkin in his hands. When he didn't get an immediate response, he looked back up to see Lowe giving him what Lightoller could only interpret as a look of irritation. He could see Moody looking back and forth between them, clearly unsure if this was something he wanted to get in the middle of and Lightoller pursed his lips as his good mood rapidly began to diminish. It was very clear to him that he had been overly optimistic in his assessment of Mister Lowe.

"Made up? Where you two quarrelling?" Pitman spoke up from his end of the table. "It wasn't over pencil, was it? Did one of you misplace one as well?" he added with a side eye towards the head of the table.

"Now Look here, how many times do I have to say it!" Murdoch began animatedly as he put his cup down on the table to look at him. "You asked for a pencil this morning and promised me you would return it. Here we are at supper, and I still have no pencil!"

"Well how can I return something I don't even recall borrowing?" Pitman tossed back.

Lightoller kept his mouth shut and busied himself with placing his napkin in his lap. It looked like Will had found out about the missing pencil and there was no way he was going to reveal the fate of it and his part in it. He already had one battle to fight as it was. As Pitman and Murdoch bickered back and forth, accusations of absent mindedness and hoarding tossed good-naturedly between them, Lightoller watched as Moody chose a seat next to Boxhall and Lowe took his customary chair beside Wilde. He never once looked to him as he settled himself, and Lightoller was partly dismayed, but mostly irritated that Lowe appeared to be ignoring him. How childish. He wondered if Wilde had noticed. He glanced over at the other officer, and he saw him watching him over the rim of his teacup.

Of course he had noticed.

But he chose not to say anything and instead, put his cup down and signaled to the lone steward that they were ready for their meals to be brought up from the kitchen though the dumbwaiter located in the side wall. When he turned back around, he gave Lightoller a knowing look and raised one of his eyebrows in question. Lightoller almost rolled his eyes, and gave what he hoped was a subtle nod, indicating he understood Wilde's meaning. He must have seen that things were still not right between his two officers, but instead of stepping in himself like he had done earlier in the day, he was encouraging Lightoller to nip Lowe's passive aggressive antics in the bud himself.

And he would! But…perhaps they could start in on supper first? He was terribly famished and if he was to go into battle, he needed his energy up.

He briefly wondered why he kept referring to the tiff between Lowe and himself in military terms, as the first meals were brought up. It was nothing of the sort. He studied Lowe unashamedly since the young officer refused to even look his way, and took the opportunity to see how his face was healing from his skirmish into town. It had been several days now and the cut on his lip had all but healed and the bruising he had shown under his eye, after darkening considerably and leading to some rather colorful nicknames by James, had lightened up just as quickly, with only a faint trace of discoloration left. Ah, the miraculous healing properties of youth. Perhaps he could politely inquire as to how Lowe was getting on? Surely that was a safe topic?

Finally, all plates were set before an officer, and they began to dig in. Occasional conversation popped up in between bites, with Boxhall and Moody discussing the story in the newspaper Boxhall had been reading, and Wilde and Murdoch, (who had thankfully dropped his argument over the missing pencil) struck up a conversation over how the stocking of the ship was going. Pitman was content to eat his supper and was back to gazing out the window, off to whatever part of the world his imagination had taken him to. For his part, Lowe remained mostly silent, but when asked a question by Wilde or Murdoch, he readily answered. Seeing as how all the rest seemed occupied in conversation, perhaps now was as good as time as any to engage with Lowe.

Lightoller put his fork down, swallowed the bite he had taken, and pulled the napkin off his lap to dab at his lips before looking up at the young Welshman.

"How's the face, old chap?" he began, friendly as he could be. He was watching Lowe carefully and he saw him raise his head briefly to look at him, before promptly looking back down at his plate and spearing a roasted potato. He didn't say a word. Lightoller felt his blood pressure began to rise. Deliberately not answering someone, regardless if they were your superior or not, was unforgivably rude at the very least. But Lightoller tamped down on his initial irritation and decided to give the young man the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he hadn't realized that Lightoller had been addressing him?

"Does it still trouble you much now, Harry? It looks like it is healing quite nicely in my opinion," he tried again, intentionally using Lowe's Christian name so as there would be no doubt as to who Lightoller was directing his question to.

All he got was a slight grunt in response.

Well, he never!

His brows furrowed and the easy smile fell from his lips, which he pressed into a tight line. A deliberate movement from Wilde's direction pulled his attention from Lowe to the Chief Officer, and Wilde was giving him a much more pointed look this time. He even gave a slight nod with his chin in Lowe's direction. Lightoller quickly looked to Murdoch to see if he had seen the gesture, and of course he had as he was looking back and forth between them quizzically behind the rim of his teacup, but he kept silent, apparently content to simply observe. Lightoller looked back to Wilde and the larger man mouthed the word "push" to him. Lightoller pursed his lips even tighter and nodded again in understanding. Wilde was right of course. Lowe was deliberately ignoring him, showing him disrespect, and pushing the boundaries of insubordination.

It was time Lightoller pushed back. He took a long, deep breath.

"Mister Lowe," he barked sternly, and the effect was immediate. All conversation ceased and heads snapped towards him, even Pitman's. But more importantly, so did Lowe's. The young man's eyes were wide in shock as he snapped his head up from his plate to stare at him, and Lightoller thought he could see a healthy level of apprehension in those dark eyes. Lightoller pointed a fork at him. "Now see here. I asked you a direct question and you deliberately ignored me. That was inexcusably rude of you," he sternly admonished. "I will not be disrespected so, do you hear me?" he added with a jab of his fork in Lowe's direction.

The look on the younger man's face would have been comical if the situation had been different, and Lightoller couldn't help feeling a bit of satisfaction at the sight after all the grief Lowe had given him recently. The young officer had quickly looked to Wilde, but the Chief Officer kept his head facing forward and sipped languidly at his tea, clearly signaling he was staying out of this.

"Well? What have you to say for yourself!" Lightoller said as he pulled Lowe's attention back to him.

"I had answered you," Lowe began as he finally found his voice.

"By grunting like a pig?" Lightoller shot back. He saw color bloom across Lowe's pale cheeks and he knew he was embarrassing the lad, but there was no help for it. Lowe's behavior needed to be addressed now and it was unfortunate that he had decided to force Lightoller's hand in a full mess. Perhaps the added bit of humiliation would help the lesson stick this time. He saw Lowe briefly glance around him at the others who were doing their best to show they were not listening, before he dropped his eyes back to his half eaten plate. His grip around his fork tightened and Lightoller could see his knuckles turn white.

"No, that hadn't been…I wasn't…," Lowe was clearly struggling for words to say.

"Would you have spoken to the Captain in such a manner?" Lightoller asked him, using Wilde's example from earlier. "Or ignored him altogether?"

Lowe's response was immediate.

"Of course not," he replied defensively before grimacing as he realized he had just admitted, though in a subtle manner, that his behavior towards Lightoller had been in fact unacceptable.

"I expect better of you, Mister Lowe. From now on you will be more respectful when addressing me and you will answer me when I speak to you, or I will consider it insubordination."

"Yes, sir," was the sullen reply as Lowe pulled in on himself and appeared to shrink in his chair. He kept his eyes locked on his plate, clearly wishing this whole business over.

"Now, I think you own me an apology," Lightoller stated and Lowe's eyes snapped up again to meet his. This time there was as spark behind them that had been lacking previously. His hand had tightened on the fork even more and his lips pressed in a tight line as he looked at Lightoller in resentment. The color of his cheeks darkened as a fresh wave of embarrassment hit him. He hesitated a moment, but he really had no other recourse presently.

"Apologies, sir. My mind must have been elsewhere," he said respectfully enough, but it must have been difficult to get the words out passed the grimace on his face.

Both of them new damn well that Lowe's lack of manners hadn't stemmed from a wandering mind, but it was an out for them both and Lightoller let him take it. He hadn't wanted a spectacle, but a spectacle he had received. He no more wanted to continue this than Lowe did, so he simply nodded his head once in acceptance.

"Apology accepted. Now, perhaps you can answer my original question?" Lightoller said as he softened his tone. He lowered his eyes to his plate and pierced a green bean with his fork, before bringing it to his mouth. It was performative as he was trying to show that all was normal again.

"I have forgotten the question," Lowe murmured as he too stabbed at a morsal on his plate.

"I believe he was asking about your injuries from town," Murdoch pointed out. His tone was deliberately casual, and Lightoller could tell he was also trying to inject more normalcy into the tense atmosphere.

"Yes, how are you getting on there, Harry?" Boxhall said from the other side of Moody who seemed extremely interested in his own plate. "Not an easy thing, to shake off a fist to the face, but you seem to have done a fine job of it."

Lightoller tamped down his smile as even Boxhall jumped in to help ease the tension.

"Can't say I did much of anything, but the compress and ice Dr. Simpson sent to my cabin did most of the work I'd wager," Lowe replied quietly.

"I say, aren't you supposed to use a slab of meat for a bruise to the eye?" Pitman asked. "I wonder if the cut of it matters?" he added distractedly.

"Now that's just an old wife's tale," Murdoch began.

"I heard some Vodka works wonders, but now I'm wondering if they meant applying it or drinking it," Boxhall interjected.

"My mother swears by witch hazel," Moody added, finally coining up from his plate. "It has a nice smell to it; more bearable than vodka I would think."

"Depends on the Vodka," Wilde replied.

And just like that, the tension had been broken. A spirited discussion broke out over different mother's home remedies for all sorts of ailments, each officer offering their own remedy, usually followed with an amusing anecdote to go along with it. Lightoller listened as he kept shooting glances at Lowe. He had pushed back, and while he regretted the embarrassment the younger man had endured, it had been relatively short lived. A swift lesson that hopefully Lowe would take to heart. It did appear as if he was still smarting from it though, as he once again kept to himself and hurriedly made to finish his meal instead of pushing it around as he was known to sometimes do. He did make sure to answer when anyone asked him a direct question, but it was clear he would rather be left out of all conversation.

Lightoller was surprised when not five minutes later, Lowe had finished his entire plate. He had then gestured to the steward, who promptly brought over the last course, which was dessert. Lightoller saw Wilde eye Lowe's empty plate carefully, before turning back to his own, satisfied by what he had seen. Wilde had made it his personal responsibility to make sure Lowe always had a healthy, filling meal, and Lightoller had once or twice seen the Chief Officer tell Lowe to stay at the table till he had eaten more of his plate. It had amused him greatly the first time he had noticed it, and he had teased Wilde afterwards about his apparent new ward.

 As soon as the steward replaced Lowe's empty plate with the dessert and sauntered off to the pantry once again, Lowe quickly took the small plate containing some custard pie of some sort, and placed it in front of Moody. It was something he had done since that day Lightoller recalled Wilde first found the cane, but he never knew how or why this arrangement had come about. But no one bothered themselves too much over it as it was no business of theirs if Lowe wanted to give up his dessert, though Boxhall did occasionally warn Moody about all that sugar.

Lowe took his napkin from his lap and placed it down on the table before quickly standing up.

"Excuse me gentlemen," he said without looking at anyone, and without another word, made his way to the hooks on the wall that held his hat and coat. Lightoller saw Wilde turn in his seat to watch him, but as the young man had cleared his plate, there was little reason for Lowe not to be excused. Both he and Wilde watched as Lowe plopped his hat on his head, and with coat clutched firmly in hand, opened the door to the mess and swiftly disappeared through it. The door closed with a click behind him.

"Now where do you suppose he's off to in such a hurry?" Murdoch asked conversationally. Lightoller looked at him and wondered what the keen eyed Scotsman had made of it all.

"Knowing him, probably the bow," Wilde sighed as he picked up his teacup again.

Lightoller picked up his own cup and took a long, fortifying sip before looking back over to Wilde over its rim, holding the porcelain vessel in both hands, finding comfort in the warmth.

"I didn't bullocks that up, did I?" he asked with uncharacteristic uncertainty as he let out a weary sigh.

"Let's not worry about that now," Wilde declared as he held up a restraining hand. "Let us just finish our meal first, then we can talk about it, privately."

"I wouldn't mind being invited to that conversation," Murdoch casually tossed out as Boxhall quietly pulled Moody's attention back to him in soft conversation. Pitman's was never held to begin with.

"You'd come even without the invite, I'd wager," Wilde teased him.

"Well, no invite is necessary then, is it?" he replied.

"I do hope all that hullaballoo earlier wasn't over one of Will's pencils," Pitman suddenly said from his remote corner of the table, and Lightoller was surprised at how not surprised he was that old Bertie seemingly hadn't followed what had just transpired. "Honestly man, this may be the start of an unhealthy obsession. Perhaps you should speak to someone about it."

Lightoller was pushed back in his chair, almost spilling his tea as Murdoch leaned over in front of him to point a stern finger at the Third Officer.

"Now see here, you. I will find that pencil." He declared.

'No he won't,' Lightoller thought to himself as he leaned back and took another sip of his tea as he listened to Pitman and Murdoch start up all over again about that bloody pencil he had chucked over the side.

Chapter Text

Lightoller for the most part, took a page out of Lowe's book and remained uncharacteristically quiet during the rest of supper. The others noticed, he was all but sure of it, but they did not badger him over what was troubling him. After all, they had gotten quite the hint earlier when he had gone off on Lowe, so it was of no great mystery as to what had brought on his sudden black mood. Quiet conversation swirled around him, but he remained anchored in his own thoughts.

He had pushed back, just as Wilde had suggested, and while he had been pleased with the immediate change he had spotted in Lowe after the reprimand, it was what he had seen afterwards that was weighing on his mind now. Lowe had become subdued, quiet, and withdrawn. That in itself wasn't all that unexpected as Lightoller had seen him act that way more than once after being caught out on some mischief or another, and the subsequent run in with the Chief Officer, but there had also been a tension in the younger man this time, a rigidness in Lowe's posture that was decidedly different from the supple resignation he adopted after a reprimand from Wilde or even Will. Lightoller wasn't sure, as he really didn't know the young Welsh man well enough to have any confidence in his ability to interpret his moods, but to him, it had seemed as if Lowe had appeared almost…resentful. That too shouldn't have rung any alarm bells in Lightoller, as how many times had he felt the very same thing when he had been on the receiving end of a sharp tongue or an even sharper smack to the ear or worse, when he had been younger? But it was, and Lightoller's ears were practically deafened from the intensity of that warning. There had been something in the Fifth Officer's eye as well, a spark of emotion, a slight tightening of the delicate muscles around his eyes and the corners of his mouth, and those curiously arched eyebrows of his had lowered perceptibly over his dark eyes.

Lightoller was no student of man, but he had been around long enough to realize that Lowe must still be angry with him.

Oh bugger. He had bollocksed it up, but damn if he knew how! Lightoller thought of himself as an affable fellow, and easy-going chap that got along swimmingly with most people, but he also had an air of authority to him when in uniform, and rarely, if ever did he have that authority challenged in such a way as Lowe had done recently. It wasn't often that Lightoller found himself having to dish out discipline and it wasn't something he enjoyed doing. The braids on his jacket sleeve along with the professionalism of his fellow officers and their respect towards his rank, usually was enough to all but negate this exact scenario. It wasn't like he couldn't be stern, but more often than not it was that he needn't be.

But Harold Godfrey Lowe was different.

But where had Lightoller gone wrong? What should he have done differently? Should he have done anything differently? It was all so bloody confusing and Lightoller mulled it over silently as he finished his plate.

It wasn't long after that the rest had finished their meals and plates were cleared away. Moody had placed a napkin over his own dessert, having already eaten Lowe's, and took it with him as he excused himself from the table, clearly with the intent to stash it in his cabin for later. Boxhall followed him and politely asked if he would like to continue their conversation in the smoking room, to which Moody readily agreed. Boxhall was a font of esoteric information, and the Sixth Officer enjoyed picking his brain. They walked out together, and Lightoller got the impression their youngest officer was quite relived to leave behind the whiff of tension that still lingered in the mess after Lowe's hasty departure. He couldn't blame him really. Pitman was next to depart, making his way to the door but not before wishing Murdoch luck in finding that pencil he obviously misplaced himself, leaving a sputtering First officer behind.

"He did borrow it, and he did lose it," he complained as the door closed behind Pitman. Lightoller and Wilde wisely refused to engage, unwilling to hear Will go on about that bloody pencil for a third time, and Wilde waved the steward over and ordered one last pot of tea. Once it was brought, the steward was dismissed for the evening, and the three senior officers of Titanic's bridge crew were the only ones left in the mess. As soon as the door closed behind the steward, Lightoller turned to Wilde and pointed a finger at him.

"You, gave me bad advice," he immediately accused. Beside him Murdoch choked on his cup of tea, before lowering it and bursting out in a fit of laughter.

"I most certainly did not," Wilde countered as he gave Lightoller a look that was half amusement, and half affronted.

"Good Lord, you almost done me in with that one, Charles," Murdoch said as he wiped at his chin with a napkin.

"Oh, be quiet you," Wilde gently scolded him as he turned his attention back to Lightoller. "Now, as for you, I gave you perfectly reasonable advice. I think the issue here may have been the execution," Wilde pointed out with a finger jab of his own towards Lightoller.

"What, do you think I was too harsh?" Lightoller asked. It was something he had been mulling over after Lowe had left.

Before Wilde could answer, Murdoch cut in.

"Well, perhaps the grunting like a pig comment was a little too much," he offered.

"But he was! You all heard him!" Lightoller defended himself. "I had been perfectly cordial, inquiring into his health, and when he finally did respond, it was with a grunt!"

"Yes, alright, Charles," Wilde interjected with a few pats of the air with his hand, indicating he wanted Lightoller to calm down. "We aren't denying that, but it may not have been the best choice of words to use in front of an audience, do you see?"

Lightoller did see. As soon as the words had left his mouth, he had a feeling they were the wrong ones. And when Lowe's cheeks reddened, he had felt guilty at the embarrassment he had caused the younger officer. Somehow, he didn't think Lowe would have reacted so if it had just been the two of them, but he just didn't know with any degree of certainty.

"I hadn't meant to embarrass him, you know," he stated as he looked down at his cup of tea before him.

"Forgive me gentlemen, but what is this all about anyway?" Murdoch asked as he leaned back comfortably in his chair. "Are you in some difficulty with our difficult officer?"

Lightoller was suddenly reminded that Murdoch actually wasn't privy to what had been going on between him and Lowe. The man wasn't stupid and had probably figured out that what he had warned Lightoller about had finally come to fruition. He recalled the dressing down he had gotten at supper when he had revealed the canes, and then the next day when Murdoch had given him an earful for riling Lowe up after they returned from the doctor. He had told him there may be some issues that needed to be addressed between them, but Lightoller hadn't realized the breadth of them at the time.

"I'm sure you will be pleased to hear that you were right," Lightoller grumbled as he took a fortifying sip of his tea.

"Of course I am," Murdoch replied, causing a snort to come from Wilde's side of the table.

Lightoller set his cup down and leaned back against his own chair, almost with an air of defeat.

"Harry's been a right ass to me ever since that day he came back from town with that black eye and busted lip. Perhaps even before that. I'm starting to see why he got socked in the mouth, let me tell you," he complained as he crossed his arms over his chest. "He has been downright rude, disrespectful, and all around disagreeable!" Lightoller continued by calling out every grievance on his long list for the benefit of Murdoch, who had yet to hear them. As soon as he had finished though, he held up a long finger towards the Scotsman. "Now don't you dare even think of saying I told you so," he warned.

Murdoch closed his open mouth and held his hands out to his side, palms up in a gesture that was meant to indicate he was either innocent of such an accusation, or he would be utterly justified in saying it, as he indeed had told him so.

"I guess we could all see it coming, Charles," Wilde interjected. "Harry doesn't just wear his emotions on his sleeve. He practically shouts them through a megaphone."

"Yes, that's all fine, but why the attack on me?" Lightoller complained. "Why, I've seen both of you take him to task several times now and he doesn't give either of you even a hint of lip, let alone what that man has been giving me. Even Joesph seems to command more respect from him than I do at the moment!" Lightoller leaned forward and put his elbows on the table, not caring about the poor manners of it as he looked back and forth between his fellow officers. "And don't tell me this is just because I embarrassed him at supper that night with the canes, as I watched you cane him and James, right on the bridge, and he still treated you with respect afterwards." he pointed out as he gestured to Wilde. "Really man, what is your secret?"

"You are asking me a question for which there really is no one answer to," Wilde replied as he set his cup of tea down. "I am just a simple sailor mind you. I have no book learning on the mind and hearts of men, but I have served with many and in close quarters, so I can only offer you my observations and experiences."

"I will take pure speculation at this point if it may help with this matter," Lightoller admitted as he gave Wilde his complete attention.

"It very well might be," Murdoch quipped, but softened it with his next comment. "But I'd trust Henry's speculation over an expert's analysis any day."

"Careful there now," Wilde teased back. "You might hurt yourself, giving me a compliment like that." He smiled as Murdoch simply snorted in amusement. "Now," he began again, turning his attention towards his Second Officer. "These are just my thoughts mind you, but I think the problem really stems from you, and not Harry."

"What! Me?!" Lightoller interjected, sitting straight up in his chair and piercing Wilde with a betrayed look.

"Easy there, let me finish, will you?" Wilde quickly said as he patted the air before him. "I'm not saying you are at fault for Harry's behavior towards you, as he is a grown man who is responsible for himself and frankly should know better, but rather I believe you opened the door to allow for this sort of behavior."

"I don't follow, and it still feels like you are laying the blame on me," Lightoller replied rather sullenly.

"Just close that gob of yours and listen, will you?" Murdoch gently scolded. "You asked for advice so stop interrupting the man."

Lightoller cheekily mimed locking up his mouth and throwing away the key.

"If only," Murdoch muttered as he reached for his tea again.

"Gentleman, may I continue?" Wilde said with a sternly raised eyebrow. When he received a nod from Lightoller and a dismissive flick of Murdoch's hand, he did just that. "Can we all agree that Harry has a volatile nature?" This time he received two nods. "Right then, with that in mind, let me remind you of my first meeting with him. Will, I'm sure remembers as he had been on the bridge at the time. When he had first come on board, he had immediately gotten into an argument with James. When I confronted him, he had turned and snapped at me like a young mutt that had never been handled. So I handled him. I immediately nipped that sort of behavior in the bud and I let him know in no uncertain terms that his behavior was not going to be tolerated and that he wasn't in charge, I was. I gave him a reason to respect me that day, other than what would normally be allocated to me by the number of braids on my sleeve. I guess you can say I gave him a reason to respect me, not just my rank.

"He was practically shaking in his boots," Murdoch added with a small chuckle. "I knew right then and there he was going to be a handful, let me tell you."

"I had gotten wind of that incident, but I hadn't realized…," Lightoller trailed off as he pondered what Wilde had said. "Yes, alright, I can see your point there, but I did not have such an opportunity with him. In fact, I've hardly interacted with him at all so far. What with all that has gone wrong so far on this maiden voyage and all the delays, I can hardly be held at fault for that."

"That had been my situation as well," Murdoch spoke up. "I had very little communication with him as I had been so busy, along with dealing with my demotion." Here he spared a mock glare at Wilde who as always, ignored it. "I admit I may have been a little…out of sorts for a while, perhaps appearing somewhat unapproachable to one who did not know me, which had been brought to my attention, but not before I had my own run in with Harry."

"It was the tea incident, wasn't it…," Lightoller replied.

"The tea incident." Murdoch confirmed. "At that point I hadn't really interacted with him, just like you Charles, and he had been tossing that silly metal nut around, lord knows where he found it, until I gave him an order to stop. An order, mind you. So imagine my surprise when I come back from making myself a cup of tea and that same metal nut goes splashing right into my cup!" There were a few snickers, but Murdoch ignored them. "I couldn't believe it, that he had so deliberately disobeyed me, that I knew I needed to make an impression on him, to let him know I would not accept his behavior. So I had taken that little nursey cane Wilde had found and I gave him a few whacks across his hand. He was quite shocked, let me tell you, but it accomplished what I had intended it to. He now understood that when I give an order, it is to be followed. Just like Henry had done, I gave him a reason to respect me, not just my rank, and that is probably why he hasn't retaliated in the manner he seems to have with you."

Lightoller again went silent, contemplating what his two friends had just revealed. In essence, they had given Lowe a reason to respect the man behind the braids. Another commonality between their two stories was when Lowe first pushed against their authority, they had immediately pushed back.

While he hadn't.

He recalled the incident where this all seemed to have stemmed from, that now regrettable moment at supper when he had revealed that not only had he purchased a replacement cane for the one Lowe and Moody had destroyed in the kitchen, but he had purchased multiples. He made light of a situation that clearly distressed Harry and he took responsibility for that. It hadn't been his intention, but intention hadn't mattered. He had carelessly tossed out that Lowe might even be feeling one of those canes before the night was through if he kept up with his disrespectful tone, but he hadn't meant it, not really, but he wondered if Lowe had picked up on that. Then when he had gotten into that second argument with him, back near the Officers' stairs when Murdoch had brought him back up from the doctor's, he again hadn't pushed back as much as he knew he should have. He never should have let it go on for as long as he had. And ever since then, he had been retreating from battles with Lowe in the hopes that being more lenient towards him would help smooth over the wrinkles that had appeared in their relationship. He sighed wearily.

"Meanwhile, when he bared his teeth at me, I pulled my hand back rather than giving him a bop on the snout," he admitted with a resigned huff. "I had even apologized for riling him up, instead of coming down hard on him for his disrespect."

"You didn't close that door," Wilde agreed.

"Well damn me, but I've never really had to deal with this sort of thing before!" Lightoller complained as he waved his hands about. "You both know me; I get along with most everyone! I'm simply not used to getting into such ridiculous squabbles, let alone with a junior officer. Mind you I have no trouble being stern when needed, but in my experience, it's almost never needed. I recall during my apprenticeship at the academy, that respect for rank was drilled into us all to the point I would never have dreamed of speaking to a superior the way Lowe has done towards me, let alone the little things he has been intentionally doing to annoy me. Honestly, it makes me wonder which school he attended!"

"That was the same for mine." Murdoch said.

"Mine as well," Wilde added. "I dare say it was the most important lesson they imparted."

"Where did he apprentice? Do you know, Henry?" Murdoch asked as he fingered his cup. "I think you mentioned you looked over his paperwork when he first stepped aboard?"

"I did, but not all that closely to be honest. I was rather distracted at the time, understandably so, and I was just looking for the pertinent details."

"Can't be all that good then, wherever it was if you ask me," Lightoller groused.

"Perhaps he didn't have an apprenticeship," Wilde mused thoughtfully.

"What, you mean he may be a hawsepiper?" Murdoch asked in surprise.

Lightoller too was in shock at the idea. Most officers became so by going to a maritime school or academy and serving an apprenticeship on a ship for that precise purpose. A hawsepipe officer was a normal, everyday seaman that worked himself up the hard way through the ranks. It was not common, and generally not something the officer in question wanted known as it was rather looked down upon. But Lightoller understood it to be quite difficult, without the benefits and societal perks of proper schooling, and to think Lowe may have done it that way was a revelation to him. This was the grandest ship in the world, the largest and the most luxurious, and with one of the biggest, most respected maritime companies out there.

 And Lowe had secured his post as her Fifth Officer.

"Surely not," he said with an air of disbelief. "To be where he is today, and at his age? I simply don't believe it."

"It would be quite impressive, I admit," Murdoch added.

"I wonder…," Wilde said quietly, almost to himself.

"Well, whatever his schooling, or lack thereof, how do I deal with this problem I now find myself saddled with?" Lightoller said as he attempted to bring them back to the matter at hand. "As you both have pointed out, I missed my opportunity to establish my authority, and in fact may have damaged it. So what advice can you give to remedy that?" It was the question he needed an answer to, and if anyone could provide it, it would be these two officers. They both had a natural authority to them that they wore about themselves, even without a uniform or its braids to display it. It was just a part of who they were. Some men just subconsciously telegraphed their dominance and one could spot such men right away. Captain Smith was one such man, though he was always described as a jolly fellow that was pleasant to be around. But there was also that underlying authoritative bearing that could not be ignored. He was a man that commanded other men, and all knew it. Much like Wilde and to some extent, Murdoch. Lightoller had a feeling that their natural authority may have played a part in the way Lowe reacted towards their discipline compared to his own. Lightoller himself was no push over and could easily become stern at the drop of a hat if needed, but that was not his natural state. He did not seek out conflict, and preferred to be liked by those who served under him rather than feared. Not that anyone feared Smith or any of the other officers, but they did have a healthy respect for them and the consequences they could dole out.

Was that it? Did he not provide adequate consequences?

"Well, to put it simply, you just may have to use one of those canes on him," Wilde stated matter-of-factly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. For him it probably was. Lightoller remembered how he had asked why he had sent Lowe to the wheelhouse and not the chart room when he had acted up on Lightoller's watch.

"Surely that isn't necessary," Lightoller replied as he pointed at the two of them. "That's all well and good for you two, but I'm not all that comfortable with it. I guess you can say I'm not a natural at it like you," he told them, quirking up one side of his mouth as he shook his head at the very thought.

"I know you may find this hard to believe, but I was as well the first time I was to do it. A real caning mind you, not those few whacks to his hand," Murdoch revealed as he pushed his now empty cup away from him.

"You?" Lightoller asked in disbelief.

"Quite shocking I know, but as I have no children, I had never needed to dish one out, so to speak. Honestly, I would have thought the concept not so foreign to you. Don't you have two young boys back home?" Murdoch asked him.

"Fredrick and Richard, but they have never given me trouble like this. Usually all they need is a stern look and an even sterner word, and they immediately stop their mischief," Lightoller explained. "I never even considered a cane for them."

"How old are they?" Wilde asked.

"Fredrick is six and young Richard will be turning four this month actually," he replied with a small, fond smile. He looked over at Wilde when he snorted at that.

"Just wait till they till they are a little older," he stated confidently. "Then you will wonder how you had ever managed without a cane!"

"Harry, his other one I mean," Murdoch interjected with a nod of his head towards Wilde. "Is what I imagine our Harry must have been like at that age."

"Oh good Lord," Lightoller said in mock horror as he looked at Wilde. "Oh, you poor, poor man."

Wilde laughed good naturedly at Lightoller's well-meaning humor.

"Probably would do you some good to get in some practice with a cane," he teased back.

"As amusing as all this is, can we focus on the problem at hand and not ones I may or may not face down the road with my children? Besides, I'm sure Mister Lowe wouldn't appreciate participating in my education in that respect," Lightoller tossed back as he too set aside his now empty cup of tea.

"Now that would totally be up to him and his behavior, don't you think?" Wilde said with a smile. But suddenly he became serious once again and Lightoller gave him his complete attention as he suspected Wilde was about to say something important. "All joking aside, Harry is no child. He is a grown man and an officer in the merchant service. He should know better than to be so disrespectful towards a senior officer, no matter his training or education, and as much as you dislike the idea Charles, you are going to have to put your foot down once and for all. It has gone on a little too far now for it to be easy, I acknowledge. Harry has his foot wedged in the crack of the door and is going to make it difficult for you to close it. Difficult, but not impossible. It won't be easy or pleasant, for either of you, put you must reset the boundaries now before it does become impossible. This isn't only for your sake, but his as well. I don't know how you feel about it, but I wouldn't like to see his career ended over his own foolishness. Would you?" Wilde asked him seriously as he placed his forearms on the table and clasped his hands on the tabletop before him.

"No, of course I wouldn't," Lightoller replied, just as seriously, and he knew it to be true. He may not know Lowe all that well, but he knew him well enough to feel he would like him very much, If they could just get past this little disagreement they have going. He didn't want him to lose his commission, especially if he was a hawsepiper and had worked so hard to get here. If it had just been a simple disagreement, Lightoller wouldn't have bothered, but it was escalating and he truly feared real insubordination was on the table in the near future, and that could have disastrous consequences for not only Lowe, or even Lightoller, but the whole ship and everyone upon her. Discipline on a ship was iron clad for a very good reason. Orders needed to be obeyed immediately and without question as lives were on the line. If Lightoller gave an order to suddenly turn the ship's wheel, it needed to be obeyed immediately and with urgency in order to avoid an obstacle that could sink Titanic. That was just one of many examples that had been drilled into every officer from the very beginning of their career and Lightoller understood that he needed to make sure Lowe would respect his authority and obey his orders.

"Now he's not saying you should arm yourself with a cane once you leave here and hunt Lowe down and start whacking," Murdoch interrupted his thoughts. "But perhaps keep it in mind if he steps out of line again, and let's be honest with ourselves, he most likely will."

Lightoller looked to him with a small grimace as he pondered what they had both said.

"Well I hadn't planned on it, I'll have you know," he said after a moment's hesitation. "I'm still not sure about it, but I can see the merits of your arguments. I agree something needs to be done, but I shall wait and see what the situation demands." He paused again, almost hesitating to voice his next question. "Is…is it terribly difficult to cane someone?" he finally blurted out. He recalled Wilde laying down some ground rules for using the cane when he bought the replacements, but he hadn't really been listening all that closely as even then he assumed he would never actually use one and that they were more like props, a symbolic warning to the more junior officers. Yes, Wilde and Murdoch had both actually used them, but Lightoller had been certain those had been a singular occurrence and wouldn't be repeated. He certainly had no plans on ever using them.

"I'm starting to think we should have asked for another pot io tea," Wilde said as he leaned back in his chair, picking up the teapot and shaking it, only to hear the last dredges sloshing pitifully within it.

"Give it here. I'll go make us another pot from the wheelhouse," Murdoch offered as he held his hand out for it. "You helped me with that first time I was to cane Harry, and I can see Charles would benefit from the same. Besides, the rest of the night is ours and we have nowhere to go. Might as well fill him in on what to expect," he said as stood up, pot in hand. "When I come back, I can tell you my experience as well. It might help you when you will have to do it."

"I can't help but notice you said when, like it's a forgone conclusion," Lightoller lightly accused.

"The ocean's wet, isn't it?" he shot back as he made for the door. "Some things just are what they are," he added as he grabbed his hat and coat, as it wouldn't do to be seen even in the wheelhouse without them, then slipped out the door.

"I truly miss the days when all I had to do was steer the ship," Lightoller sighed as he propped his chin on his fist. It was becoming an all too familiar complaint.

"You and me both," Wilde replied.

Chapter Text

The senior officers of Titanic had spoken for a good hour or more that evening, and Lightoller appreciated all the advice they had given him. Wilde in particular seemed to have a good read on their Fifth Officer but that was to be expected, seeing how out of all of them (excluding perhaps Moody) he had spent the most time with him. It would make sense that he would have a better understanding of Lowe, even if Wilde did admit that he was still baffled by the younger officer sometimes. Murdoch had been of great help as well, as his experience was similar to Lightoller's, although with less antagonization by Lowe. In the end, Lightoller had left the officers' mess with a little more confidence and the hope that he would be able to navigate out of these choppy waters into calmer ones, once again.

That is until the very next morning.

During breakfast, Lowe had spoken to no one besides the obligatory greetings. He had been last to the table and had been first to leave it, finishing his plate in a manner uncustomary for him. He hadn't even looked at Lightoller. Right then Lightoller knew he was going to have problems. Well, more of them anyway. The morning briefing with the Captain hadn't gone much better as Lowe stood as far away from him as he could on the bridge. Lightoller hardly expected him to jump in his pocket, but his aloofness was obvious. Lightoller couldn't wait for them to shove off and actually start sailing again. He was almost positive it was all this dallying about in port that was causing Lowe's short temper to become even shorter. It would be better when they were out to sea, and they all had something to do. That was why he decided to have Lowe run some errands as they started their watch together.

He regretted it.

He had sent Lowe with a list of things to check in the pantries, and while the young man had taken it without a word and departed, he had taken so long to come back that Lightoller had begun to wonder if something had happened to him. He had been about to send Pitman to look for him when Lowe had finally come back, a full hour later, and handed him the list as if nothing was amiss. When Lightoller had confronted him, demanding to know why a task that at most should have taken twenty minutes had taken him an hour, Lowe had replied with the observation that Lightoller had put no time limit on his task so what was the issue? While his words had been respectable, his tone certainly hadn't been, and Lightoller wasted no time in scolding him for it. Wilde had told him to push back, and he was. What Lowe had done had been deliberate and he made sure the younger officer knew how unacceptable it was. It was clear that Lowe didn't appreciate this, and that seemed to make his black mood even blacker. The Fifth Officer slunk off to a bridge wing after that, and Lightoller was more than happy to leave him there.

During the next hour of the watch, which Lightoller was uncharacteristically counting down, Lowe had eventually come back onto the bridge and Lightoller had attempted to engage him in conversation. He really was trying to set things right between them, but Lowe seemed positively set on stoking his ire. He had responded to Lightoller's polite inquiries with a mixture of Welsh words and what Lightoller assumed were literary references. Lowe knew he wasn't much of a reader of fiction and Lightoller suspected that was why he had chosen to use them. When Lightoller had complained he could not understand him, Lowe had responded with a shrug and a quip that perhaps Lightoller should pick up a book once in a while. Lightoller had lost his temper and had banished him to the wheelhouse again, pointing towards it without saying a word. Lowe had looked positively smug as he smirked at Lightoller's reaction, and while he wasn't pleased he was being sent to the wheelhouse, he was pleased at how he had gotten to Lightoller. As soon as he had turned his back to him and had begun making his way back to the wheelhouse, Lightoller couldn't help raising his hands after his retreating back in the manner of pretending to strangle him, lips pursed, brows furrowed, shoulders hunched up around his neck, a look of pure irritation on his face. He even stuck his tongue out the side of his mouth as he gave the imaginary neck in his hands a good shake.

Of course that was the moment Murdoch had walked onto the bridge from a bridge wing, and Lightoller had hastily dropped his hands, embarrassed to be caught in such an obvious gesture. Murdoch had paused and given him a look, one brow raised, and Lightoller had responded with a terse, "I know," as he yanked at the bottom of his coat hem to straighten it. Luckily, Murdoch refrained from commenting, having said all he meant to last evening, and simply went about looking for something on the bridge.

Probably that damn pencil.

It was the third hour of the watch that things had finally come to a head. Lightoller was sipping on his cup of tea out on the starboard bridge wing when he noticed some crewmen down below in the well deck having an argument. It looked as if there may have been an issue with one of the electrical cranes as it was hovering over the open hatch, pallet of goods hanging over the void, not moving. This was something that needed tending to. As officer of the watch, he could not leave the bridge, so he would need to send one of his junior officers. Pitman was on the opposite bridge wing, fiddling with his pocket watch. Apparently he was attempting to fix it, or so Lightoller thought, as he had it open in his hand. Lightoller was about to call out to him to go down below and see what the matter with the crane was, when something must have fallen from Pitman's watch and the Third Officer began twirling around in a circle, looking for it. He was on his third revolution when Lightoller closed his mouth and walked back onto the bridge. Clearly Bert was occupied.

So that left Lowe.

Lightoller spotted him through the glass in the wheelhouse, his back to him. It was where he should have been as Lightoller hadn't released him from there yet, and he was glad to see Lowe hadn't quite gotten to the point of outright disobeying him. It was what he had been worried about all along and why he had taken to being more stern with the younger man. It softened his irritation at him and when he called out, his tone was less harsh than it would have been only a few moments before.

"Mister Lowe? Come here please," he called through the glass.

Lowe didn't respond, nor did he turn around.

Lightoller pressed his lips together and his grip on his cup and saucer tightened. Even though the wheelhouse was enclosed, Lightoller knew very well an outside voice could be heard within it. There was no way Lowe hadn't heard him.

Still, wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt, he stepped closer and gently rapped on the glass with the back of the knuckle of his free hand. There was no way Lowe could miss that.

"Mister Lowe?" he called again.

Just like before, there was no response.

"Right, that's it," Lightoller snapped as he abruptly turned on his heel and made his way to the starboard side door. He switched his cup and saucer to his left hand and reached down to grab the handle. The moment his fingers touched the cool metal, the door was shoved open from the other side, pushing the handle painfully into his hand, and the door right into him. It had been so sudden, so unexpected, that Lightoller could do nothing as the door was shoved into him, causing him to stumble back in surprise. His cup and saucer fell to the deck at his feet with a loud crash. Lightoller, hands raised at his sides in stunned shock, looked down at the mess at his feet. Just on the other side of the broken pieces of his cup were a pair of black leather shoes, and Lightoller followed them up to Lowe's face. He was also starting down at the mess in shock, almost as if he couldn't believe his eyes. His right hand was still on the door from when he had clearly shoved it open. Lightoller stared at him until the younger officer looked up.

"You called me, sir?" he said, as if nothing had happened.

Lightoller's hands balled into fists, and he sucked in a breath.

"Look what you did!" he bellowed, quite incensed.

"What I did?" Lowe replied with an air of innocence, widening his eyes, raising his brows, and bringing a hand towards his chest.

Lightoller pointed angrily to the broken shards of crockery and the spreading puddle of tea staining the pale boards.

"Forgive me, sir," Lowe began in an infuriatingly superior tone. "But weren't you the one who dropped it?"

"You know damn well what you did!" Lightoller snapped at him. "You shoved that bloody door right into me on purpose!"

"I did no such thing!" Lowe countered.

Lightoller's mouth dropped open in shock at the other officer's gall.

"Don't play dumb with me! You purposefully waited till I was in front of the door to slam it into me." Lightoller declared as he waved his right arm about in his agitation.

"You were calling me, weren't you? I was just coming to see what you wanted!" Lowe snapped back. "How was I supposed to know you would be standing right on the other side?"

"How about the bloody round window right in the center of it?" Lightoller challenged as he smacked the glass with his left hand.

"I was looking at the handle!" Lowe countered testily. "How what else does one open a bloody door!"

Lightoller could sense things were getting out of hand. At this point he really shouldn't have been surprised as it seemed like every interaction he had with the Fifth Officer lately ended up this way. But he wasn't going to let it go any further. Even without his talk with Wilde and Murdoch, he wouldn't have put up with such disrespectful speech from a junior officer. Lowe wasn't only raising his voice to him but was also flat out lying to him. He had purposefully hit him with the door. If there was ever a time to put his foot down, this was it.

"I have had quite enough of you," Lightoller declared as he pointed a stern finger at Lowe's face. "I don't know what bee you've gotten into your bonnet, but I don't bloody care. I have had it with your insubordinate attitude, and I will not suffer another minute of it! I don't know what your goal was with all your nonsense, but if making me angry with you was part of it, you have bloody well succeeded!" Lightoller realized he was almost shouting, that he really should moderate his tone while on the bridge, but he just couldn't find it in himself to care about decorum at this moment. "You," he snapped as he jabbed his finger at Lowe's face. "Are going to clean this mess up," he added as he pointed that same finger down to the deck and the broken teacup and saucer. He opened his mouth to continue, but apparently Lowe had heard enough.

"The hell I will!" Lowe exploded, surprising Lightoller. "I am a ship's bloody officer, not some scrub crewman! Clean up your own bloody mess!"

To say Lightoller was shocked would have been a gross understatement. To say he was calm and collected would have been another. He could feel his blood pressure rising and his face begin to flush with genuine anger. This was what he had been trying to avoid all along. Direct disobedience to an order. Lowe's blatant and willful disrespect was also of a level that Lightoller couldn't look the other way this time. Without really thinking it through and just following his instincts, Lightoller pointed over Lowe's left shoulder.

"Go to the chart room!" he swiftly and loudly ordered, leaning in towards Lowe

There was a moment of silence that stretched out ominously between them as both men suddenly came to the realization of what that order actually meant.

Lightoller could see Lowe's expression change in an instant. His youthful face lost the tense, combative look, and his eyes widened in shock as his arched eyebrows almost disappeared under his cap brim. His lips parted slightly as if he wanted to say something but was too surprised to utter any words. Instead, he stood there looking at Lightoller like a man who unexpectedly found himself face to face with a dangerous predator, suddenly struck by the fact he was in fact in danger, but unsure how to proceed to save himself. He imagined Lowe couldn't have looked more surprised if Lightoller had slapped him in the face. In a way, his pronouncement had, he supposed.

Lightoller himself was having his own moment of sudden realization and was struck by the implications of what he had just said. He almost couldn't believe it himself. Ordering Lowe to the chart room when they were docked and had no need of any chart, could only mean one thing.

A cane was kept in the chart room.

Lightoller could feel his own eyes widening, but he quickly schooled his features into a more appropriate expression. It wouldn't do to let Lowe see his uncertainty in this moment.

"What?" Lowe finally got out after several nervous swallows. The change in tone from just that one word was obvious.

Oh, now he wanted to be respectful?

Lightoller dropped his pointed finger and straightened up to his full height, pulling his shoulders back and looking down at him sternly.

"You heard me, Mister Lowe. Take yourself to the chart room. I will be there shortly," he announced. He was quite pleased with how steady and authoritative his voice sounded.

"Mister Lightoller, I-I'm sorry. I don't know…," Lowe began to explain himself, clearly worried about what might happen in the chart room, but Lightoller wasn't having it. Lowe had had his chance to pull his head in, to correct his behavior, but instead, he had chosen to lose all semblance of control of himself. He had acted disrespectfully, impulsively, and childishly. He knew better than that. One didn't make it to the position he was in without that being drilled into him.

"Stow it," he cut him off. "The chart room, now," he repeated, making sure to infuse his words with as much authority as he could.

He watched as Lowe snapped his mouth shut. The young officer looked quite uncertain now, such a change from his postering of just moments before. Lightoller saw him look down, as if trying to gather his thoughts or understand the situation he now found himself in. When his gaze raked over the broken crockery on the deck, he grimaced and let out a sharp, but soft sigh. When he looked back up at Lightoller, it was from under the brim of his cap.

"Aye, sir," he said quietly before dropping his eyes once more and turning around to make his way slowly towards the chart room door at the back of the wheelhouse.

 Lightoller watched him until he disappeared inside it, the door closing with a soft click. As soon as he was sure Lowe was safely ensconced within, Lightoller practically deflated like a balloon, shoulders slumping and spine bending like he had the weight of the world upon him. He brought a hand up to his face and covered his eyes with it.

"Bugger me," he muttered to himself as he rubbed at his closed eyes. "Now I've gone and done it."

He was actually going to have to cane his Fifth Officer.

He dropped his hand and looked down at the mess on the deck by his feet. He nudged a large piece of porcelain with the toe of his polished black shoe and listened as it clinked against another piece. The sound helped to shore up his suddenly foundering confidence. He hadn't wanted this, had tried his best to avoid it, but all his best efforts had been for naught. Some things could be overlooked, but the display Lowe had put on just now was not one of them. If the Captain had seen it, Lowe might have been back in his cabin packing his duffle rather than waiting for Lightoller in the chart room. Despite all the discord between them at the moment, Lightoller didn't want that. He didn't want Lowe to lose his commission, to be sent off the ship. But he also didn't want this uncertainty, this tension between them. Like it or not, Lightoller was Lowe's superior and that required a certain discipline in place that governed their interactions.

Lowe had either forgotten that, or willfully ignored it.

As his superior, it was Lightoller's duty to remind him of that, to redraw the boundaries that allowed them all to work efficiently and safely. Personal differences aside, all of Titanic's officers needed to work as a well-oiled machine, just like her massive engines down below. Just one kink in the works, one loose part knocked out of alignment, could bring the whole complicated mechanism to a standstill. He wasn't looking forward to it, but he had no choice now. He honestly never imagined he would actually be using one of those nursery canes he had purchased, but here he was.

What was with this ship and her constant surprises?

"Everything alright Charles? I thought I heard raised voices?" he heard someone say from inside the navigation bridge, and Lightoller dropped his hand from his eyes to spot Pitman standing there, dismantled watch still in his hands.

"It's nothing old chap," Lightoller said as he took a step back from the broken cup and saucer still lying on the deck. "I'm about to take care of it."

"Has that always been there?" Pitman asked as he nodded towards the mess at Lightoller's feet. The Second Officer was honestly surprised he had even noticed it. "Bit of a hazard I'd say, being in front of the door and all that," he added distractedly as something fell from his hand and pink'd onto the wooden deck. That he apparently didn't notice.

"Never mind that Bert," Lightoller sighed. "Be a good chap and head down to the well deck and see what all that business with that crane is about, will you?" Unlike Lowe, Pitman understood an order when he heard one, no matter how politely it was couched.

"Of course," he immediately replied, carefully placing his dismantled watch and its loose components back into a coat pocket. "Shall I send for someone to clean that up as well?" he asked helpfully, gesturing again at the mess in front of Lightoller's shoes.

"No, I will take care of it, but thank you," he declared as he brushed the broken pieces out of the way of the door and towards the wall with the side of his shoe. He knew exactly who was going to clean it up, but they needed to have a conversation first. "Just be mindful of it when you come back."

"Be mindful of what?" Pitman replied as he wiped gear grease from his fingers with a handkerchief he had pulled form another pocket.

Lightoller did a double take at Pitman seemingly forgetting all about the broken dishes as soon as they were out of sight, but just let out an amused huff and shook his head fondly.

"I will be in the chart room when you come back, but please don't disturb me. Report back when I'm finished with my business in there, if you please," he told him.

Pitman lifted his head from his hands and suddenly looked around him a moment, as if searching, but then his eyes landed back on Lightoller and he had a queer expression on his face, one Lightoller couldn't quite interpret, and he simply stared at him for a moment. But it didn't last long, and Pitman nodded his head and made for the bridge wing opening.

"Right oh," Pitman announced. "I do hope the problem is easily rectified," he added thoughtfully as he turned the corner and disappeared.

Surely, he had meant the issue with the crane, but Lightoller had an eerie feeling he might have meant something else besides. Then he looked down at the small brass cog the Third Officer had dropped and had not even noticed, and let out a small chuckle and shook his head. He was being ridiculous. He walked over to it and picked it up, putting it into his pocket to give back to Bert later. That done, he took a deep breath to calm himself.

He looked through the windows of the wheelhouse towards the closed chart room door.

"Right, time to get this over with," he said to himself as he made his way inside.

Chapter Text

Lightoller made his way through the wheelhouse and stopped just in front of the closed chart room door. He lifted his hand toward the handle but paused, hesitating, his fingers hovering over the handle uncertainly. He balled that hand up in a fist and snatched it back, bringing it back to his side in a pique of frustration at his sudden loss of confidence. Where was this doubt when he had so authoritatively and confidently ordered his Fifth Officer to the chart room?

"Come on, come on," he quietly whispered to himself. "Stop being a bloody coward you big dolt," he chastised himself. It wouldn't do either of them any good if he walked in there suddenly all wishy-washy over his intent. He had to remind himself that he was the superior officer, Lowe was his junior, and there had been an unacceptable breach of discipline between them. Whatever the reason for it, it needed to be dealt with firmly and concisely.

Having pepped himself up as much as could, Lightoller schooled his face into one of confident authority and reached for the handle again. This time he grasped it firmly and pushed the door in.

Lowe immediately turned to look at him from the corner of the room he had retreated to, away from the door and next to the charts. Lightoller kept his eyes firmly on him as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The chart room was a relatively large space, especially compared to other such rooms on older ships, which honestly could be said about most things on Titanic. Just to the right of the door was a small settee, taking up most of the wall space. In that same corner was a tall locker that held the torches as well as an assortment of stationary and other items used for navigation. Just to the left of the door, against the forward bulkhead, was the chart table. It dominated the space as one would expect due to its rather large size needed to accommodate the unrolled charts that were of equally large dimensions. On the far left wall were the rolled charts themselves, nestled safely in their wooden racks bolted to the wall. Two small cupboards containing the logbooks as well as the international signal codes, were placed against the aft bulkhead, the heavy wooden swivel chair that could be pulled up to the chart table placed neatly out of the way between them, completed the furnishings of the room. All in all, Lightoller had never seen a more well thought out design, from the white wood paneling, to the skylight overhead that provided excellent light during the day, to even the wall mounted adjustable lamp just above the chart table that made reading charts at night just as tolerable as during the day. He couldn't recall how many times he had strained his eyes while looking over one in the dead of night on past ships.

He was sure all this was lost on the other officer in the room, who looked like he didn't want to be there in the first place and never wanted to step foot in there again after. To be fair, Lightoller couldn't blame him, especially with what he had planned.

"Mister Lightoller," Lowe began, raising his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "I do apologize. There's no need for…for…" Lightoller saw his eyes flit to the far corner of the settee, to the space between it and the large locker.

 The place Murdoch had stored the cane.

Lightoller recalled Murdoch making a point of showing Lowe where it was, partly to serve as a reminder of what his poor behavior would earn him, and partly to reassure him that it was not going to be visible for God and everyone to see when they entered the room. All the officers were aware of its placement, excepting possibly Pitman of course.

"I said stow it, Mister Lowe," Lightoller ordered as he walked over to that very same corner and bent down to retrieve the small cane. "I think you have said enough already," he said as he tugged it out from behind the locker where Murdoch had wedged it so it wouldn't roll out into the open during a swell. Who would want to explain that to the Captain, or Mister Andrews, or even God forbid, Mister Ismay?

He turned back around with the cane in hand and gave it a few experimental swishes.

"Sir, please…" He heard Lowe say as he eyed the cane in his hand. Oh ho! Now he was being respectful?

"I will have none of that," Lightoller announced as he pointed the cane at Lowe, waggling it at him as he lectured. "You have more than earned this. Your behavior and disrespect were positively appalling for an officer." Lightoller looked down at the cane he was holding, became self-conscious, and quickly dropped it back to his side, clearing his throat. "I hadn't meant for it to go this far, but so it has and there's only one thing for it." He gestured towards the large chart table with the cane. "Right, over the table with you. I'm sure you are familiar with the position."

It was a reasonable assumption as Lowe had grown up in Wales. They were known to be very liberal with their use of the cane in schools from what Lightoller had heard, not that that was any different than the rest of England, to be perfectly honest. Lightoller himself had had the unfortunate experience of several tangles with the cane during his school days. He lifted up the one he held and grabbed it by both ends to flex it a bit. None of the ones he had had the displeasure of encountering were ever this small and light. Honestly, what was Lowe complaining about?

"What? You mean to actually do this?" He heard Lowe say in disbelief and he looked up from the cane to see him standing there with a look of what Lightoller could only interrupt as shocked incredulousness.

"Well why else do you think I ordered you in here? For a spot of tea? After what you did, I wouldn't trust you anywhere near one! I dare say Will feels the same," he added as he flicked his head towards the table. "Now stop stalling. You know very well why we are both here and I for one and just want to get this over with. Bend over Mister Lowe. I will not ask again," he finished firmly.

"And what if I refuse?" Lowe suddenly challenged, lifting his chin up in defiance.

Lightoller paused as he hadn't really thought about it. He couldn't recall him challenging Will or Henry over this before, but he was a special case though, wasn't he? He quickly came back with his answer, lifting his own chin up to meet Lowe's in a standoff.

"Then I shall lodge a formal complaint with the Chief Officer and the Captain," he said unflinchingly, keeping his eyes locked on Lowe. It would be the expected response to Lowe's insubordination, but it would also come with the expected response from said officers. Well, perhaps not from Henry, but certainly Captain Smith. It would mean a blemish on Lowe's sailing record and possible expulsion from the ship. It would potentially follow him in his career as well, making it much shorter than it would have been, as no captain worth his salt, nor the company he worked for, wanted to hire an officer that couldn't follow orders or the chain of command. Discipline on ships was a necessity, not a luxury. Too many lives depended on that discipline that the British had gained the hard way over centuries of dominating the seas. It's what he had been trying to avoid, what all of them were trying to avoid, by taking this rather uncustomary route in dealing with one of their own.

He watched as Lowe paled a little at his words and he saw his throat contract as he swallowed. He could see Lowe's hands ball up into fists at his sides, but after a tense moment, they relaxed again. Lowe dropped his head in defeat. It was the only way Lightoller could describe it. He was conceding as he truly was aware of what he had done and how it would be handled officially. There was no doubt in Lightoller's mind that the young officer couldn't afford to lose this commission. He couldn't afford to lose his own commission! His complaining about his drop in pay due to his sudden demotion was proof enough of that!

"Fine, let's just get this over with," Lowe huffed testily as he slowly walked over to the table like he was bored of it all. His hesitation as he turned to face and look down at the polished top gave away his true feelings, however. It was clear to Lightoller that there was a little bit of apprehension leaking through, which he took as a good sign. It would hardly be worth either of their time if Lowe didn't fear the consequences of his actions.

"Smashing," Lightoller griped sarcastically as he stepped back to give Lowe some room. "I do have to get back to the bridge you know. Lord knows what's happening down in that well deck," he tacked on as almost an aside to himself.

"Please, don't let me keep you," Lowe griped back.

"Will you just bend over already?" Lightoller replied with exasperation. He pointed the cane at the tabletop and watched as Lowe's eyes followed it for a moment, taking in its thickness and length.

It really was a mild thing, but Lowe had felt it before, and it stung. Lightoller himself had felt its bite when he had experimentally whacked his own palm with it. It may not have been very severe, but it didn’t need to be. This wasn't about causing the other officer pain, though it would sting like the dickens, but to serve as a pointed rebuke of his actions. Lightoller suspected the fact that he was being caned at all, even despite the mildness of it, was most likely the worst part of this for the proud young Welshman. It was a sentiment Lightoller could understand. He knew he would be feeling about as tall as a heel if he had been ordered to bend over for stripes from a cane.

With a huff of irritation, he watched as Lowe bent slightly at the waist and slapped his hands dramatically down on the table. He was making his feelings on the matter perfectly known.

Lightoller rolled his eyes and shook his head in exasperation as he took in Lowe's stance. The man was hardly bent over at all. He was standing very close to the edge of the table and after his initial performance of slapping his hands down, he had straightened back up a little to where only his fingertips touched the wooden surface. He looked like nothing more than an officer leaning against the table to get a better look at the clock that was hung on the wall.

"Come on, come on, you can do better than that," Lightoller admonished him. "You know how this goes. I can hardly imagine this is the first time you've been in this position. Step back from the table and place your hands further forward. I'm aiming for only your arse," he explained. "This isn't the bloody Royal Navy, you know."

He heard Lowe mumble something under his breath in what he suspected was Welsh before he reluctantly took a tiny step back and inched his fingertips forward just as much.

Lightoller let out a huff of frustration.

"I thought you wanted to get this over with?" he scolded him. "Now stop wasting time and bend over properly, or I will add to your punishment!" he warned him sternly.

That did the trick, and he watched with some satisfaction as Lowe grudgingly put himself in proper position. He slid his feet several steps back and moved his hands closer to the center of the table, palms completely flat against the surface. His body bent and the seat of his trousers was partially revealed as his uniform jacket rode up. Lightoller couldn't see much of his face as he kept it angled rigidly down at the space between his hands, but from the sliver of smooth jaw he could see, he could tell the young man was clenching his teeth.

Lightoller stepped closer to him and reached out a long arm to flip up the hem of Lowe's coat, revealing completely the taught seat of his trousers. Lowe remained silent as he did so, surprising Lightoller as he suspected the lad had plenty to say on the matter. He stepped back again to put himself in position to administer the cane. It was a little thing, true, but it still needed room to swing. As he took in the sight of Titanic's Fifth Officer bent over the chart table, he was more convinced than ever that Harry had been in this position before. Well, most likely they all had at some point, he wagered ruefully. Perhaps excepting Henry, or maybe even Joseph. Lord knows he himself had been more times than he cared to admit.

"Right," he said out loud, but he wasn't sure to whom he was speaking to. Lowe or himself. Now that the moment was at hand, he was feeling his confidence start to wane again. He looked down at the cane in his hand. "Right," he said again. He saw Lowe tilt his head ever so slightly towards him, but not by much. He clearly had the other officer's attention and while normally Lightoller thrived on attention, he was feeling quite self-conscious about it now. His mind was going rapidly going over all the advice Wilde and Murdoch had given him the night before, as well as the rules for using the cane Wilde had made clear to all of them. He fervently wished he had paid more attention now.

He mentally shook himself and forced his feet to stand to Lowe's left, off to the side and slightly behind. He swished the cane lightly a few times to get the feel of it, and he could see out the corner of his eye Lowe tense up. He held the cane up to Lowe's arse, hovering just above it to home in his aim. He truly didn't want to hurt the man, and the tip of a cane striking a cheek, no matter how thin, could definitely do some damage.

He pulled the cane away.

He brought it back to double check.

He shifted his feet.

He pulled the cane back and held it up in preparation for the first stripe.

He hesitated.

"I thought you said you wanted to get this over with?!" Lowe mocked him over his shoulder, parroting Lightoller's own words back at him and startling him near out of his boots.

"Hang on, hang on…" Lightoller snapped back. "It's not like any of this was on the certificate exams you know," he complained as he took aim again. "I'm usually not on this end of things."

"Why am I not surprised?" he heard Lowe mutter and Lightoller was both annoyed and slightly amused at the other man's nerve. Here he was, bent over a table, arse ready for the cane, and he was still a defiant little shite. It reminded Lightoller of himself to be honest.

He raised the cane high again and locked eyes on his target, reading his aim.

Still, he hesitated. He knew he shouldn't as this was doing neither of them any good, but he was suddenly struck by the absurdity of it all. Never had he ever dreamed that he would one day be in this position, to actually cane a fellow officer. But he also had never imagined that the discipline between them would be tested so. Lightoller was not a natural disciplinarian to say the least. He could put on that stern front when required, but it normally wasn't. Officers on board ships were generally very well disciplined and professional to the extreme, so this sort of insubordination was mostly unheard of. Even when two men didn't like each other, they still respected the braids on their sleeves.

Yet here they were.

Lightoller wasn't even entirely sure how it had all come about. He knew Lowe was angry at him, had taken offense at some of his actions, but Lightoller couldn't have imagined it could have led to this. Murdoch had warned him, even Wilde, that there was trouble brewing between them, but Lightoller never thought it would boil over to him holding up a cane, ready to bring it down across the arse of a junior officer.

And how hard should he swing? That was another uncertainty. How harsh should he make this lesson? How much did it deserve? His eyes flicked to the cane he still held high and he wondered if it was too high.

Honestly, he was so struck by the absurdity of this moment that he almost burst into laughter. Thank goodness he didn't though as he was positive that would have been the final straw for Harry, and cane or no, any reconciliation between them would be over.

Lowe had earned this, there was no doubt in Lightoller's mind that he had, but he was still stuck on the reason why. He still had so many questions. He needed answers before he started swinging.

"That's it," Lightoller suddenly announced as he dropped the cane to his side. He straightened himself up to his full height. "Stand back up, Mister Lowe, and turn around. We need to talk," he ordered.

He watched as Lowe did as instructed, but his confusion was clearly evident as he slowly turned around to face him, his right hand trailing against the tabletop as if he was waiting for Lightoller to just as quickly order him back over it. He looked up at him with wide, but guarded eyes, untrusting of the sudden change in plans, but also clearly relived. His teeth were no longer clenched, and his lips were slightly parted in an unspoken question. Lightoller watched as he readjusted his jacket, then clasped his hands behind his back and stood at attention, waiting uncertainly for Lightoller to say whatever it was he wanted to say.

"What's this all really about?" Lightoller demanded.

Lowe looked as if Lightoller had just slapped him across the face. He appeared positively blindsided by the question. His eyes went impossibly wide, and his mouth dropped open even further. Whatever he had expected, it hadn't been that.

"Pardon?" he asked in turn, his wide eyes squinting instead in an attempt to understand.

"Us," Lightoller emphasized with the cane, waggling it between them. "What has happened that had brought us to this? I know you are angry with me, but I never would have expected you to behave the way you have done recently. I have never seen you treat the other seniors so disrespectfully, so exactly what did I do that would deserve such treatment? What makes me so special, hmm?"

Lowe was simply staring at him as if he had grown a second head.

"Come on man, spit it out. You had no trouble speaking your mind before," Lightoller prompted as he crossed his arms over his chest, the cane tucked away under an arm.

Lightoller was a bit taken aback when Lowe suddenly burst out into a barrage of Welsh. Whatever he was saying, it was quite forceful and agitated, arms waving and hands gesticulating. When Lowe had finally run out of steam, his face pink and eyes still flashing, Lightoller simply looked at him.

"I admit I had meant for it to be in English," he finally said in a dumbfounded tone.

He hadn't expected such an outburst. Normally it was rather difficult for Lightoller to pull words from him, but apparently not today, not at this moment. It appeared Lowe had been just waiting for the opportunity to express his feelings on the matter and had jumped at the opportunity when it was presented. It was almost as if Lowe had been a tightly packed powder keg, just waiting for the spark that would set him off and it was Lightoller who had just lit the fuse.

"Then I have permission to speak freely?" Lowe countered, not quite out of energy yet.

"Well, yes, but I would suggest keeping it civil," Lightoller warned, wondering if he had just made a mistake. Lord knows what the man had said in Welsh, but Lightoller hoped whatever it had been, Lowe had gotten it out of his system.

"If you really want to know, I find you an inconsiderate, insensitive, gasser!" Lowe declared as he pointed a finger at him.

"You what!?" Lightoller replied. Cleary surprised at such an admission.

"You don't have to like me, but did you have to take such delight in purchasing those canes?" Lowe continued as if Lightoller hadn't said a thing. "You thought it all a lark, didn't you, never even giving it a second thought! Just a perfectly normal thing to bring up around the others."

"Here now, I hadn't…," Lightoller tried to explain.

"You delight in making me look the fool, don't you! The Welsh outsider, the one who doesn't belong…," Lowe snapped.

"No! That's not…!" Lightoller tried again, shaking his head in denial.

"And you delight in riling me up! I don't know why, but you do! Maliciously teasing me every chance you get, making me the butt of your jokes, just like you did last evening!"

"Wait, wait, wait…," Lightoller uncrossed an arm to hold up a hand, trying to stem the flow of accusations. He couldn't wrap his head around nary a one of them. They were so outrageous, so foreign to reality that Lowe may have well still been speaking in Welsh.

"You dressed me down in front of the others like I was nothing more than a…a kitchen boy! Not the bloody officer I am. You poke, you prod, you wheedle, you…,"

"Stop." Lightoller finally barked, holding his hand up again, firmly this time, a demand now rather than a plea.

Lowe's mouth opened and closed a few times as if it was still rolling out accusations off his tongue, but he knew an order when he heard one. Lightoller watched as he snapped his mouth shut, but he was far from composed. His chest was heaving slightly, and his eyes were sparking enough that his gaze could light a boiler all on its own. His hands were balled tightly into fists at his sides, and his jaw was clenched. Lightoller assumed it must have taken a great deal of willpower on his part not to keep spewing his venom.

Lightoller made sure Lowe was obeying his order before he ran a hand over his face, rubbing at the just above his eyes. To say he was shocked would have been an understatement. He figured the younger officer was holding onto some resentment, but he had no idea it was this much, or this severe. Is this what Lowe really thought? Is that how he really saw him? Is this what the others had warned him about? How could Lowe's version of reality be so far from his? This was a misunderstanding of the grandest scale and Lightoller racked his brain recalling each incident Lowe had mentioned, trying to see if his actions could have been interpreted the way Lowe seemed to have done. He didn't think so, but clearly, they had. No wonder Lowe had been on such a strop. If that was how he truly felt about the matter, it's a wonder this hadn't come to a head even sooner.

Lightoller dropped his hand and looked over at his junior officer. The younger man stood silently, radiating tension, waiting for his response.

He wished Wilde were here. That man could make sense of even the knottiest of knots, and this was one hell of tangle of strained emotions and misconceptions. He was almost at a loss as to how to proceed.

Almost…

"I'm sorry," he finally said, his tone calm and even.

"What?" Lowe replied in turn, his expression and tone indicating this was not at all the response he had expected. He seemed quite taken aback really, like the wind had just been knocked from his sails.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Lightoller began. "That had never been my intention, ever. I take no delight in bedeviling you, or anyone for that matter. I know I haven't given you reason to believe otherwise, but that simply isn't in my nature."

Lowe remained silent and he still looked skeptical, but least he was listening.

"For what it's worth, I had never intended to reveal that I had purchased the canes, especially not at supper and in front of everyone, but you had brought up my errand and well…," Lightoller trailed off as he gathered his thoughts, looking down at the cane he still held. He looked back up and put on a rueful expression, letting out self-depreciating huff. "I do have a bit of a problem with gossip I'm afraid. I can admit to that. Once I start gabbing, I do tend to just go on and on. I'm sure Mister Murdoch would readily attest to that," he added with grimace.

Lowe let out a quiet snort.

"I had such a jolly time in town that I suppose I just wanted to share. And when I had gotten such a good deal on the canes, I admit I was a bit proud of myself. If you learn one thing about me, it's that I never pass up a good deal," he explained. He looked back down at the cane. "You were right, I hadn't thought about how that would come off to you, and I suppose James as well," Lightoller admitted quietly. He looked back up and met Lowe's eyes. "For that, I do apologize."

He watched as Lowe looked away, trying to reconcile the apology with the man he had thought Lightoller to be.

"I can only assure you that making you feel the fool, or an outsider was the farthest thing from my mind. I don’t see you as either, just so you know." And he meant it, truly. He had had no idea that Lowe had felt that way, but he could see why. All the other officers already know each other, had even served together on other ships before being assigned to Titanic. Everyone except for Lowe who really was the odd man out, not that that had been anyone's intention. It hadn't helped either that Lowe mostly had kept to himself at first, making it even more difficult to get to know him. Then there were the extraordinary circumstances of Titanic's sea trials and her preparations for her maiden voyage that had put yet another obstacle in the way of pulling Lowe into the fold. At least for Lightoller. Wilde appeared to be making jolly progress in that regard, now Will, and even Joseph. Come to think of it, Lowe did seem to have a friendly accord with James as well, though that could turn adversarial at the drop of the hat in the manner of two brothers whose sole purpose is the torture of the other.

Did that really just leave Lightoller? There was still Pitman of course, but that was to be expected. Lightoller had no idea what sort of relationship the Fifth Officer had with him, if any at all, though they would be watch mates for the whole voyage. But Bert was such an easy soul to get along with and that coupled with Lightoller never having witnessed a disagreement between them, was leading him to think that even he was more agreeable to the junior officer than Lightoller was.

What a nasty jar to find himself in.

Lowe looked back up at him and held his gaze. He seemed to be mulling over what Lightoller had said, trying to make sense of it all.

"Then why do you keep needling me?" He finally asked with a frown. "You did so when Mister Murdoch and I returned from the doctors."

"You thought that to be needling?" Lightoller asked. When Lowe only responded with a twitch of an eyebrow, he continued. "I think we have established now that I do like a spot of gossip, and I was terribly curious as to how your trip into town had been. Doubly so when I saw you two walking back and there appeared to be something amiss. When I saw you both coming from the doctor's, well, how could I not try to find out what had happened? Why, I feared I may have simply burst if I hadn't gotten some details!" he explained. "I wasn't aware of your feelings toward me then, and I'm afraid you took my well-meaning concern and my unfortunate insatiable curiosity for something more sinister."

That seemed to give the younger man paused again, as if he hadn't conceived the possibility that Lightoller may have had concern for him. The thought must have thawed him a bit as his stance became a little less rigid, a little less combative. He shifted his weight to one side, a slightly more relaxed stance.

"Yes, well…perhaps I may have been a bit out of sorts at the time," he replied. It was a concession he was clearly reluctant to admit, especially after displaying such righteous anger only moments before, but Lightoller gave him credit for doing so anyway and kept his own thoughts on Lowe's attitude to himself. They were making progress. No need to slide back now.

"I can see why, with what all that happened in town," Lightoller said. "Will told me all about it after he chewed me out royally for upsetting you so. I must tell you, I was quite impressed with how you handled yourself."

He saw Lowe's eyes widen in surprise as he searched Lightoller's face for sincerity. He found it and he turned his head to the side and gave a slight shrug in recognition of the compliment.

"Though I do disapprove at how you found yourself in that situation," Lightoller felt the need to add.

Lowe's lips tightened and his eyes lowered at that, but it was a sign of acceptance of the mild rebuke rather than anger at Lightoller for having said it. It was progress. Lightoller decided to press his advantage.

"I knew then you were annoyed with me, but I had no idea by how much. I admit that my confusion over this whole matter had me floundering." He pointed towards Lowe with his empty hand, gesturing between them. "I wasn't sure what was happening between us or how to make it right. I had asked for advice, but I took it a little too far; last evening at supper being a prime example of that. I'm afraid I was a bit hard on you then in front of the others," he explained as he tapped the cane in his other hand against his right leg absentmindedly. "Don't misunderstand me here," he added with a firmer tone. "You deserved that reprimand for your disrespectful behavior, but I realize now we would have both been better served if I had taken you aside after supper to deliver it."

Lowe opened his mouth as if to rebut what Lightoller had just said, but to his credit he closed it again and gave serious thought to his words. Lightoller wondered if he was thinking back to last evening and how he had purposefully antagonized Lightoller by refusing to engage with him when Lightoller had only been trying to be friendly. Was he seeing now what Lightoller had been trying to do? Did he see now how he himself had contributed to the situation? Lightoller knew enough about Harry to know he was smart as whip and that though impulsive with a hair trigger temper, he was also fair and reasonable. He wasn't always levelheaded, but there was a sturdy keel to him that would serve him well in this career.

"I-I must apologize for that," Lowe finally replied. His balled-up fists had relaxed at some point during the conversation, and he now clasped them behind his back in a more natural pose. One that would be expected when speaking respectfully with a senior officer. "I wasn't myself that evening. I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I had."

Lightoller finally relaxed himself. They had made ground here and he was very pleased with himself for taking the time to talk this over with Lowe instead of just going through with the punishment. Somehow, he feared that would have done more harm than good and he was relieved to see he had finally exhibited some good sense in regard to dealing with his troublesome Fifth Officer.

He snorted, startling Lowe enough to look up at him.

How odd was it to be on the other side of things. Normally he was the troublesome officer.

"You know, you and I are actually quite alike, I think. I realized that when you had climbed up onto the officers' quarters to distract us with that pail so James could pinch the cane." He chuckled to himself as he shook his head at the memory. "I'm afraid I had a penchant for a spot of mischief myself in my earlier days. Perhaps I will tell you about that time I fired a canon at some point."

He saw Lowe lean forward, his face one of utter surprise.

"You didn't," he replied, half disbelieving, half intrigued despite himself.

"Oh yes! Will can attest to it! Jolly good fun it was but absolutely no sense of humor, that Australian army," Lightoller added with cock of his head and a shrug of the shoulders, once again tapping the cane against his leg as he recalled the spectacular fall out from that misadventure. "My Captain aboard the Medic as well, for that matter," he finished with more of a grimace. That encounter had been exceptionally unpleasant.

"I would very much like to hear it," Lowe told him, and Lightoller looked up to see the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of Lowe's lips.

Buoyed by the sight, Lightoller switched the cane from his right hand to his left and held his empty hand out before him, offering it to Lowe.

"Allow me to introduce myself properly," he began cheerily. "Charles Herbert Lightoller. Incurable gossip, bit of a prankster, and somewhat dense at times." He held his hand steady as he patiently waited for Lowe's response.

Lowe looked down at the offered hand in surprise for a moment, before he unclasped his hands from behind his back and reached out his own hand, tentatively at first, but grasping Lightoller's firmly in the end.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," Lowe replied, giving the hand in his a proper shake. His face had finally lost that guarded rigidness, and Lightoller could see there was a spark of understanding between them. The small smile that had struggled at the corners of Lowe's mouth blossomed into a truly amused grin.

Lightoller returned it.

"Likewise."

They released their hands, but the beginnings of a connection still remained. Lightoller was thrilled that Lowe seemed to have made a decision about him, and one that wasn't quite so adversarial. Lightoller couldn't know for sure, but all the signs were looking positive.

"I hope we understand each other a little better now?" he asked hopefully.

"I think so," Lowe replied with his own cautious optimism.

Lightoller smiled at him and gave him a nod, before he switched the cane back into his right hand. He thwacked it down smartly against his leg.

"Splendid! Now let's just get your punishment over with now, shall we?" he said nonchalantly as he gestured towards the chart table with the cane.

"WHAT!?"

Chapter Text

Lightoller looked at him in surprise.

"Why the sudden shock?" he asked as tilted his head slightly to the side. "Surely you knew what was going to happen when I sent you in here, didn't you?" he added with an air of confusion. This shouldn't have come as a surprise at all to the younger officer. But apparently it had.

"That was before…," Lowe began, clearly flustered. "Before we talked, before we came to an-an understanding," he explained somewhat hastily, his eyes going down to the cane in Lightoller's hand.

"I'm still not following your logic here, Mister Lowe," Lightoller replied. He placed his left hand on his hip as he regarded him. "We did come to an understanding, but what does that have to do with me still caning you?"

"Well, everything! Doesn't it?" Lowe asked him as he gestured between them. "I thought we had decided this whole thing had been just one big misunderstanding between the two of us, and now we have settled it," he said. "We agreed we were both at fault here, hadn't we?"

Lightoller tilted his head back slightly as he finally understood.

"Ah, I see now." And he did, he really did. Lowe assumed that now that they had had their conversation, had each explained themselves and had come to a sort of truce in a way, that that meant the matter was settled between them. But he was wrong. "Yes, we did have a misunderstanding, and yes, we did come to an understanding between us. But that isn't why I'm disciplining you," Lightoller explained. He could see a cloud of confusion drift across Lowe's face.

"Well then, why?" the younger man asked. He looked positively bewildered.

Lightoller sighed, a short one that indicated annoyance, not at Lowe, but at himself for not making it clear to him from the very beginning.

"This isn't about you thinking poorly of me or misinterpreting my intentions. I would never punish you for that. You are entitled to you own opinion and I have no authority over that, nor would I want it." He touched his chest with his left hand. "Especially when I myself played a part in all this, though none of it had been intentional as I have already explained." He fixed Lowe with a stern look and pointed the cane at him. "The reason you are still going to be caned is because of your actions," he said.

He could see Lowe bristling again, his hands balling into fists once more and his jaw clenched tightly just before he opened his mouth to argue.

"Oh no, we are not doing this again," Lightoller quickly interjected as he held his hand up, palm out, to halt any outburst before it could be begin. "Just let me explain," he added, pleased when Lowe closed his mouth again. "Thank you," Lightoller replied with a slight bow. Good Lord this man had a short fuse! Still, Lightoller had to give him credit for just as quickly extinguishing it when he wanted to. "Again, this isn't about the misunderstanding between us, but your actions after it occurred. Instead of coming to me to discuss your concerns, or even bringing it to one of the others so they in turn could bring it to my attention, you started a campaign of what I can only assume was revenge against me. No, no! Let me finish!" he quickly said when Lowe looked as if he would interrupt again. "You were surly, rude, disrespectful, and above all, you disregarded the discipline of our ranks. Most of that I admit I could possibly look past, though it would rankle me, but not the last part. You and I both know that that was unacceptable. You deliberately disobeyed an order when I told you to clean up the mess you created. I can overlook many things, but not that." Lightoller took a step closer and ducked his head slightly so he could look Lowe right in the eye. "You don't have to like me, can think anything you want of me, but you will not disobey me when I give you a lawful order, Mister Lowe." His tone was serious and firm, and he could see it was having an effect on the younger man. "I may not take many things seriously, but discipline of the service is one I most certainly do."

He watched as Lowe lowered his gaze down and to the side. It really did appear as if he was feeling somewhat embarrassed, perhaps even shameful at his actions. As he should, to be to be perfectly honest. Lightoller may not have known Lowe all that well, but he did know the merchant navy, and one didn't become an officer without strict adherence and respect to the chain of command. When an officer was given a lawful order by someone higher than himself in the chain of command, it was followed and promptly. Lowe knew this as well. He wouldn't be here if he hadn't.

"It was foolish of me, I know," Lowe confirmed Lightoller's thoughts as he heroically met Lightoller's gaze once more. "I have no excuses for my behavior, sir. I never should have let my feelings on the matter affect my actions so. It was unprofessional and I do regret them. I shall endeavor never to repeat this error in the future," he added sincerely. He stood there silently after, waiting for Lightoller's response.

"Well, that was as fine an apology as one could ask for, I think," Lightoller said with a small smile. "Thank you, Mister Lowe."`

He saw Lowe give a hopeful look in return at the acceptance of his apology.

"So, does that mean we can return to duty now?" he asked with cautious optimism.

Lightoller had to give it to him, the lad was persistent.

"Nice try," Lightoller told him.

Lowe once more deflated like a ballon.

It's not like Lightoller wanted to do this. He would have been more than happy to take this opportunity to call the matter closed and let Lowe off this time. But the officer in him knew he couldn't do that. This was an important moment in their professional relationship and he needed to make a point here, once and for all, so he would hopefully never have to repeat this lesson again. Spare the rod and spoil the child, as the saying went. Lowe was no child, but the axiom still applied. Lightoller needed to head the problem off now before it had a chance to become a bigger problem in the future. Honestly, he was doing this for both their sakes.

Lowe had to learn that while Lightoller may be mostly bark, he still had bite.

He saw Lowe's gaze drift back to the cane he held in his hand.

"Come on, we have dallied long enough. We do have duties to get back to, as mind-numbingly mundane they may be, and I am having the queerest prickling at the back of my neck about Mister Pitman down in the well deck," he said with a pointless look of his shoulder as if he could see through the wall and several decks down to where he hoped the Third Officer was sorting out the issue with the crane.

"You should check on that," Lowe helpfully supplied. "I was told never to ignore such a feeling," he added all too enthusiastically.

"Desk," Lightoller ordered, pointing toward it with the small nursery cane.

Lowe let out a deep, heavy sigh, but he didn't fight Lightoller this time. It was a marked difference from when he had been told to bend over the first time. While it was patently clear that Lowe was not pleased about doing so, this time he didn't balk, he didn't argue. He simply turned back around to face the desk and after a moment's hesitation, he slowly leaned forward and placed his hands down on the smooth surface, exactly where they were supposed be.

Lightoller was very grateful that Lowe had apparently resigned himself to the caning. He really could see a change in the younger officer, and he was even more grateful that he had paused the proceedings to hash this all out with him beforehand. Before, his posture had been rigid, unyielding, defiant. Now, while still a bit rigid, it wasn't from defiance or resentment, but rather from unhappy expectation. The younger man had been in this position before and he knew what was to come.

Lightoller did as well, though not quite from this angle of it. As he walked up to Lowe's left side, he tried to recall all of Wilde's rules and suggestions for using the cane again. Most of them had revolved around when and why he should use the cane, not necessarily how to use it, though Wilde had emphasized that none of them were to be overly harsh. He had specifically said that the punishment was never to leave any damage. He had been quiet emphatic about that actually, but he needn't have been as none of them wanted that. It was made clear by all that a caning was to be used as a last resort and for Lowe, the worst of it was the act itself, not the pain it produced, though it was clear Lowe detested that as well.

Lightoller had no intention of being harsh, but he also wasn't going to give Lowe some token taps. He had earned this and Lightoller would do right by him.

It suddenly occurred to him he hadn't thought how many to give him!

"Bullocks," he said under his breath as he reached out and flipped the back of Lowe's jacket back up over his rear and onto his lower back.

"What?" he heard Lowe say over his shoulder, clearly confused.

"I was just trying to decide how many I should give you," Lightoller unexpectedly revealed. And why shouldn't he? He was trying to be as transparent and open with the younger man as he could. He had already revealed that he had never been on this end of it before so it shouldn't come as a shock that he wasn't sure how many stripes of the cane he should give Lowe. "How many did Mister Wilde or Mister Murdoch give you before?" he asked as he looked down at the small cane in his hand. It really was such a pithy little thing. Why, Lightoller could probably lay down a good two dozen with it to equal one stripe from a senior cane. Maybe not even that!

"I'd rather not say," Lowe mumbled as he shifted his weight to his other foot nervously.

Lightoller looked towards his bowed head and raised one brow.

"That many, eh?"  he replied somewhat sympathetically. Lowe didn't answer but he hadn't expected him to. He again looked down at the little whippy cane in his hand and tried to recall how many he could have expected for such an offense as Lowe had perpetrated. He grimaced at the number. That was far higher than he felt comfortable with and would have been with a heavier cane as well. He didn't want this to be harsh, not that it really could be with such a light cane, so instead he settled on tradition and what could be expected for a less serious offense.

"I think six of the best," he declared. "How does that sound?" he added thoughtfully as he raised the cane and lined it up with Lowe's rear to gauge his aim.

"Just bloody awful," Lowe complained as he stared down at the table. "Excessive, cruel, brutal, barbaric, unca…,"

"Honestly man, are you going to go through the whole dictionary?" Lightoller groused as he rolled his eyes.

"Thesaurus more like, and I can if you'd like," Lowe quipped back.

"No need, you made your thoughts perfectly clear on the matter," Lightoller said as he shook his head in fond exasperation. "Six is lenient, I will have you know," he added as he gave the cane a light swish, gathering up his nerve to actually go through with this.

"So is none," Lowe replied over his shoulder.

"You are awfully cheeky for someone about to be caned," Lightoller pointed out. It was true, but this seemed more like a coping mechanism for both of them rather than defiant resistance. There was no animosity in Lowe's voice now, and there had never been any in his own. Lightoller actually took it as a good sign.

"Well, you did start it," Lowe pointed out, unsure if he was being reprimanded or not.

"I will give you that," Lightoller replied in a light tone to let Lowe know he wasn't cross with him for his cheek. Besides, this was much more preferable to the sulky, disrespectful tone he had taken with him before. Progress was progress and Lightoller was glad of it in any form. "But time to get on with it. I am now picturing Pitman dangling from the crane, and I can't get it out of my mind."

He heard Lowe give a surprised, but quiet huff of amusement. It pleased him to hear it. But it was time to get on with it. He raised the cane and gently rested it against Lowe's rear, causing the younger officer to instantly tense up and take notice. Good.

"In all seriousness, Mister Lowe, I do hope I have made my position clear to you," Lightoller began, his tone firming up as it tended to do when he was giving orders. "I take no joy in this, and it is my hope that I never have to do it again." He truly meant that, and he hoped the younger man understood that as well.

"Yes, sir," Lowe replied respectfully as he stared down at the spot between his hands. "I assure you I feel exactly the same way," he added after a moment, causing Lightoller to smile though Lowe couldn't see it.

"Right," Lightoller declared as he took the cane away and raised it up. "Brace yourself now," he warned.

He heard Lowe take in a deep breath and hold it as he hung his head even lower. Lightoller couldn't see his face from this angle, but he suspected he had also closed his eyes. It's what he would have done in his position. Not wanting to drag this out any longer than necessary, especially with Lowe apparently holding his breath, Lightoller took in a breath of his own, held it, adjusted his grip around the raised cane one last time, then flicked the cane down across Lowe's trouser covered rear with decisive force.

The thin cane made an all too familiar whack as it made contact, and Lowe's reaction to it was almost instantaneous.

"OW!" Lowe loudly yelped as he instantly straightened back up to whirl around, placing his hands behind his back to cover his seat as he looked at Lightoller accusingly. "That hurt!" he added for good measure, rubbing furiously.

Lightoller was quite shocked for a moment and glanced down at the small nursery cane in his hand to see if it had suddenly changed into something more severe. No, still the same. He looked back up at Lowe who was still rubbing furiously. He knew he hadn't struck him that hard. He knew it. He had actually pulled back a little at the last second, as he had been unsure of exactly how much force he should use. He had errored on the side of caution for this first stripe of the cane. His eyes narrowed as he was suddenly struck by the thought that this was all performative on Lowe's part. He knew Lightoller was new to this, that he had doubts, and it looked as if he was taking advantage of that and trying to imply he was being too severe.

Why the little devil…

Lightoller was both deeply annoyed and mightily impressed at Lowe's quick thinking. He had been right in thinking the lad was whip smart, but he wasn't going to fool Lightoller. Little did Lowe know, he just insured the next stripe would be even harder.

"It's supposed to hurt," Lightoller replied, secretly finding amusement at finally being the one to say such a ridiculously obvious statement instead of being the one it was directed at. "Such a fuss over a little ole nursery cane; I barely swung it!" he lightly scolded. He pointed it at Lowe. "Don't think I don't know what you are doing. I know you didn't put on such a show with Misters Wilde and Murdoch, so cut the theatrics and get back over that desk."

He knew he was right when Lowe scrunched up his face in consternation and let out a frustrated huff.

"That did hurt," he repeated, but Lightoller could see the disappointment in his face that his ruse hadn't worked.

"And it's going to hurt a lot more if you don't get back into position," Lightoller warned him, again wagging the cane at him.

With another huff, Lowe dropped his hands, turned around, and once more got back into position. Lightoller sidled up closer to him and once again flipped the back of his coat up.

"I see now why they always tell you to take your coat off," he said thoughtfully. "Bloody annoying, this is." He put his rear to the desk, leaning back against it, and placed his left hip flush with Lowe's.

"What are you…?" he heard Lowe begin to ask, clearly confused at the physical closeness.

"Just hush. I'm not going to have you jumping up like a jack-in-the-box after every whack," he explained firmly as he wrapped his left arm down and around Lowe's lower back and side, his left hand cradling Lowe's right hip. He couldn't put his finger on it, but the physical contact just seemed right. It made this punishment feel more personal, less judicial. He couldn't pinpoint on exactly why, but he was willing to go along with it. "And no more criticizing my technique," he added as he raised the cane up again. "I'm far too sensitive," he joked. He could tell Lowe was about to say something in retort, but he cut him off with a perfectly placed whack of the cane, a little lower on his buttocks. This one had been even harder than the first.

He felt Lowe jerk against him slightly and heard him suck in a startled breath, but this time he didn't instantly start complaining Lightoller had been too harsh, proving that his performance before had been exactly that. A performance. Lightoller had to squash the urge to ask him how that one had compared, but he wasn't trying to rile the younger officer up. He was teaching him a lesson here after all.

After a moment, he felt Lowe relax against him as he rode out the sting from that second stripe. He heard him let out that same breath he had sucked in. He really did feel for him as he himself had felt that very same sting far too many times in the past, but Lowe really had earned this and he had no one to blame but himself. Lightoller had given him chance after chance, opportunity after opportunity, but Lowe had still forced his hand.

Lightoller raised the cane again, took aim even lower, and snapped it down with a flick of his wrist. This time Lowe jerked even more and hissed in pain as he shifted his weight from foot to foot several times, jostling Lightoller who was pressed up against him.

"Halfway," Lightoller said in way of encouragement.

"You've made your point, sir! Surely you can stop there!" Lowe said a bit breathlessly from behind him.

Lightoller almost laughed but held onto his stern front.

"Nonsense. I don't do things halfway," he told him. "What would the others think of me if I did?" he added almost as an afterthought.

"I won't tell, I promise!" Lowe replied quickly, shifting again and giving Lightoller the impression that he was craning his head around to look at him, not that he would be able to see anything other than Lightoller's back.

"How kind of you, but not necessary," Lightoller sarcastically retorted. "I have no intention of stopping until I have given you exactly what you deserve," he added sternly, raising the cane once more. Lowe clearly interpreted his movements and braced himself once more against him. Lightoller aimed even lower still, making sure this one would fall just below the last. He had no intention overlapping any of the stripes. Not this time at least. No, Lowe would have six perfectly placed pink lines across his arse when all was said and done. Not that Lightoller would ever see them, but he knew from experience what they would look like. He had taken a gander at his own arse after such a punishment once when he had been younger, and had been quite shocked at how perfectly the pink stripes of the cane had lined up. He had never dreamed that one day he would be trying his best to emulate that same perfection.

Lightoller snapped that little cane down onto Lowe's britches for the fourth time. Lowe bucked slightly against him and Lightoller heard him slap a hand down onto the desk top. A string of Welsh spoken through clenched teeth assailed his ears.

"Here now, none of that!" Lightoller chided him. "If you have something to say, you will have the decency to say it in English so I might understand. You had better not be cursing me either," he warned, bringing the cane down to tap lightly against Lowe's backside, causing the younger man to shift nervously again. "If you need me to add more stripes, I have no issue doing do," he told him firmly.

"No! No, I'm sorry! There's no need!" Lowe quickly apologized, in English this time.

"Are you sure?" Lightoller asked him, giving him some harder taps of the cane.

"On my life!" Lowe called back and this time Lightoller couldn't hold back his snort of amusement.

"So dramatic," he replied dryly as he lifted the cane away to raise it high once more. He didn't waste any time and after careful aim, he whacked that cane down harder than ever, low on Lowe's cheeks.

"Oh, OW!" Lowe cried out as he rocked against the desk and Lightoller. He stamped a foot onto the red and white tiled linoleum floor, just missing Lightoller's polished shoe.

"It's a baby cane!" Lightoller reminded him as he tightened his grip around Lowe's hip, turning to look behind him at where Lowe's head would be.

"Bloody hell, man! A feather would hurt if you swung it hard enough!" Lowe complained over his shoulder, shifting once more from foot to foot as if he could shake out the sting in his rear.

"You are being hyperbolic," Lightoller replied in a somewhat distracted, sing song tone as he faced forward again to focus his aim for the final stripe. "Good Lord, the other's never mentioned this," he muttered to himself. He raised the cane one final time. He could feel Lowe tensing beside him. This finale one, he would give his all. He aimed low. Lower than any of the others. This one would probably sting the worst and fade the slowest as it would be just above the crease where buttock met thigh. "Last one," he said in way of warning before snapping that little cane down as hard as he dared, right into the fleshiest part of Lowe's bottom. The cane practically bounced off the taught cheeks and the crack of it was very loud within the confines of the chart room.

Lowe's reaction was instantaneous. He was up and away from the desk like a shot, surprising Lightoller who had to quickly retract his arm least Lowe drag him along with him and straighten from his own lean to give the younger man room. Lightoller watched in some amusement as Lowe backed away and started to pace in a circle, head down, bottom lip firmly between his teeth as he rubbed furiously at his no doubt smarting behind.

"Bloody hell!" he hissed as he continued his pacing.

Lightoller shook his head and once again looked down at the cane in his hand. It simply wasn't harsh enough to garner the sort of reaction Lowe was displaying and he assumed it was just Lowe's way of complaining about his treatment. Lightoller was actually a bit surprised to see that Lowe hadn't bothered with the stoicism that the others had warned him about. He didn't quite understand what that meant, but then again, Lowe didn't react to him the way he did the others, now did he? Honestly it was more like how he treated Moody than say someone like Wilde. What that meant, he wasn't sure, but he didn't discount it as a bad thing. He was actually quite pleased Lowe felt comfortable enough around him to not fear Lightoller's opinion of him.

"Six of the best, if I do say so myself," Lightoller said as he walked past Lowe to return the cane to its hidden spot. "Who knew this could be so effective!"

Lowe only groaned in response as Lightoller wedged it back against the wall and the settee, making doubly sure it would remain there. When he turned back around, Lowe was now looking at the ceiling, his head back, his eyes closed, his lips mouthing out little ow's as he continued to rub. Well, at least he wasn't pacing anymore.

"Right, it's all settled now," Lightoller said as he came to stand before Lowe who reluctantly lowered his head to look him in the eye. "All of it I hope," he added as he eyed Lowe carefully. "It is all settled between us, isn't it?" he asked seriously. It most certainly was on his end, but he wanted to make sure it was the same for Lowe. They couldn't afford another misunderstanding as far as Lightoller was concerned.

"Yes, I suppose it is," Lowe said finally, slowing his rubbing to a more leisurely pace. "I certainly do not wish to go through that again," he added with a grimace.

"Neither do I," Lightoller agreed. "Surprisingly difficult doling out a caning," he added thoughtfully.

"I shall take your word for it," Lowe replied with some cheek, but it was the healthy kind, the kind shared between two shipmates, not the resentful, disrespectful variant it had been before.

"I suppose you will have to," Lightoller chuckled. "Don't see you having any use for it, except with perhaps Mister Moody, but I dare say he may just turn the tables on you there."

The look on Lowe's face told him that Lowe was imagining it and he did not like what he was seeing. Lowe may be a rank higher than Moody, but the two officers were far closer to equals than say even Wilde and Murdoch were. If one ever tried to cane the other, Lightoller suspected there would be quite the dustup between them that would probably end up with both of them receiving a dose of the cane from a senior officer.

Whatever Lowe was imagining, he shook it from his mind and once more regarded Lightoller. He dropped his hands from his seat and held them loosely at his sides as he became serious.

"I truly do apologize, Mister Lightoller. My behavior was beyond unacceptable, and I know it. I can only assure you that I do respect rank and…," he paused a moment, as if trying to drum up the courage needed to say what he wanted to. He looked Lightoller right in the eye. "Thank you. For…handling this without bringing it to the Captain's attention. You are right. I might have lost my commission."

Lightoller could see his cheeks turning pink as he lowered his eyes down to the floor in embarrassment.

Any tension Lightoller may still have had, any doubts about their relationship he may have subconsciously harbored, were gone in that moment. Their Fifth Officer really was something. It took a lot of courage to say what he did, especially after being caned. Lightoller himself wasn't sure if he would have had the courage to say what Lowe had just said if their positions had been reversed.

"I apologize as well, Mister Lowe. Harry," he corrected himself. "I deeply regret making you feel the outsider, or that I made you feel foolish in front of the others with my careless tongue. I hope you understand I had never meant any of it, though I see now that I did play a rather large part in all this. I hope you can forgive me as well."

Once again, he found himself holding his hand out to Lowe, hoping the younger officer would take it.

He did.

"I think we were both a bit foolish," Lowe replied as he took Lightoller's hand in his to give it a single shake. It was a simple gesture, but it sealed the truce between them, acknowledged and accepted their respective apologies, and hopefully signified the hand of friendship.

Lightoller smiled.

"Well, I did say we were rather alike, didn't I?" he said as he released Lowe's hand, smirking as Lowe simply gave slight bob of his head, a shrug of a shoulder, to indicate there may be some truth to that statement. "Listen Harry," he began seriously, making sure he had Lowe's full attention before continuing. "I want you to know you can come to me. For anything. You can speak your mind as well without fear of repercussions. I feel confident in speaking for all of us in this matter. You are no outsider. You are one of us. If I slip up again, if I speak out of turn, you can always come to me and tell me. I just wanted you to know that," he finished sincerely.

Lowe nodded but didn't immediately speak. It was clear to Lightoller that there was much going on behind those dark eyes. Lowe shifted where he stood and grimaced, whether from the discomfort from his rear or something more personal, Lightoller wasn't sure. He could understand really. What man enjoys such personal conversation?

"Thank you, sir," Lowe finally responded. "I shall endeavor to remember that."

"Capital," Lightoller said as he adjusted his cap on his head. "Now, do you need a moment to collect yourself, or are you ready to go back on duty?" he asked not unkindly.

"I would very much like to leave this room as soon as possible," Lowe answered in a deadpan that had Lightoller laughing despite himself.

"Yes, alright then. Let us go and see what trouble Mister Pitman has gotten into, shall we?" he said as he waived a hand towards the door indicating Lowe should proceed him. Lowe had started to do just that when a thought suddenly occurred to Lightoller. "Just so you know," he began, his words halting Lowe in his tracks. When the other man turned to look at him quizzically, Lightoller became serious once more. "I wouldn't have told the Captain," he said. "Mister Wilde, yes, but not the Captain."

Lowe looked at him closely for a moment, his gaze searching, until finally it softened. He simply nodded his head in understanding. Lightoller had been about to say more, to let Lowe know that he would have done all that he could to help Lowe keep his commission, but he realized that wasn't really needed as he had already done so. That was the whole reason he had taken Lowe in here and had punished him privately in the first place.

"I know that now," Lowe said with a small smile. "And I thank you again."

It was Lightoller's turn to simply nod.

"Right, to the bridge," he said as he gestured once more towards the door. "If the Captain comes back and finds no officer at all, then I fear we will both have to worry over our commissions!"

"We've had enough of that already," Lowe agreed as he turned to the closed door and pulled it open. Lightoller was amused as he watched Lowe peek out into the wheelhouse, checking to see if it was empty even though they both knew it must be, before finally stepping out. As Lightoller went to follow him, he could just make out the sound of another door closing. It had been faint, as if the person closing it had been trying not to bring attention to themselves, but even so it had been close enough for Lightoller to pick it out. He looked to the left and to the closed door to the Officers' quarters. It hadn't been that one, he was sure of it. But it had been close, and the closest one after that was the Chief Officer's cabin. Lightoller raised an eyebrow.

"I wonder…"

Chapter Text

"Careful there, Mister Lowe. Don't cut yourself," Lightoller said as he watched the Fifth Officer sweep the broken pieces of the teacup into the small dustpan he had retrieved from a storage room.

"Yes, Mister Lightoller," Lowe replied with an annoyed sigh from his crouched position on the deck.

Lightoller couldn't help but smile at his response. Yes, it had been slightly annoyed, but there was no animosity in it, not like before. Just an outward expression of his thoughts that Lightoller's warning was utterly pointless for something so obvious. Lightoller suspected this wasn't the first time the young man had broken crockery. But his concern had been genuine, and Lowe appeared to have taken it as such, as he didn't launch into a tirade that he was a ship's bloody officer and knew how to sweep up a mess though it wasn't his job to do so. Lightoller suspected their new understanding, as well as the lingering sting in his tail, was helping the hot-blooded Welshman to curb his tongue.

Lightoller waived him off and left him to it. He looked down at the spot just in front of the wheelhouse door, where his cup of tea had originally hit the deck, and at the dark spot on the normally pale boards. Most of the decking on Titanic was made of yellow pine, excepting the fore and aft decks which were sheathed in the more durable pitch pine, and this wood had the unfortunate tendency to absorb stains rather quickly. Especially ones made from a black tea such as Lightoller had been drinking. The spot where Lowe had made Murdoch spill his tea by chucking a metal nut in his cup was still faintly visible, even though Lowe had done his best to scrub it out.

He scraped at the spot with the toe of his shoe and clucked his tongue. There would be no help for it. No amount of scrubbing would remove this. He wondered just how many stains the decking would get before their maiden voyage was over. What a shame all the decking couldn't have been made from the superior teak wood that served as trimming around the decks and machinery, but even Lightoller with his limited knowledge of ship building knew that the cost would have been astronomical.

Maybe he should give Lowe a hand and pour some water on the stain to help lift what he could?

He was just about to do that when he heard the door of the officers' quarters open. He looked through the window in the wheelhouse's door to see Chief Officer Wilde step into inside. Lightoller was both surprised, yet not. There was no need for Wilde to be on the bridge as this was Lightoller's watch, not his, though it wasn't abnormal for any of them to wander onto the bridge for a chat when they were off. But Lightoller had the sneaking suspicion that this visit had nothing to do with a need for a chat. He watched as Wilde looked through the windows, clocking Lightoller's position, then continue to search the bridge, no doubt looking for the two junior officers that were supposed to be on duty with Lightoller. He suspected Wilde was searching for one of them in particular.

Lightoller gave him a friendly salute when his eyes drifted back to him, and he watched as Wilde made his way from the port side to the starboard side where Lightoller was. Lightoller stepped back as Wilde pushed open the wheelhouse door, but he made sure to reach out and stop the oak door from opening too wide.

"Careful now, wouldn't want to squish our Fifth Officer," he said as Wilde regarded him curiously. Lightoller jerked his chin to the left and Wilde stepped further out onto the bridge proper to look around the door and down at their junior officer who was just dumping the last tiny pieces of broken ceramic into the small dust bin he had brought out. Lightoller saw Wilde's expression soften just a tad and the corner of his mouth pulled up in a subtle smile as he looked down at Lowe.

Lowe's response to seeing Wilde was a bit less subtle. His big brown eyes got even bigger as he did a comical double take at the sight of the tall man. He craned his head up so high and so quickly the second time, that he lost his balance and fell back against the side of the wall and then right onto his backside, the small brush flying from his hand as he dropped the pan with his other.

"Oh, ouch!" he hissed as his backside met with the hard decking.

"Here now!" Lightoller said as both he and Wilde went to his aid. "I thought you better sea legs than that!" he teased as he grabbed Lowe under one arm and Wilde did the same to Lowe's other. Together they picked him up off the deck as if he weighed nothing and set him back on his feet.

"Are you alright?" Wilde immediately asked him, his eyes raking over the younger man.

"Y-yes, perfectly alright," Lowe stuttered as they released him.

Perfectly alright? He looked quite flustered to Lightoller! But then again, he understood why. Wilde had warned him about his attitude towards the Second Officer, and quite sternly at that. Lightoller hadn't been privy to that conversation, but he had seen enough through the wheelhouse windows to know that Wilde had conveyed his message loud and clear to the younger man. And now here he was, caught red handed with the evidence of his disobedience to that warning. Based on his interactions with the Chief Officer in the past, it was clear that he was a bit worried about what the older man's response would be.

But Wilde didn't know any of that. At least, Lightoller didn't think so, and there was no need to enlighten him either seeing how he and Lowe had come to an agreement.

"What were you doing down there?" Wilde questioned him even as his eyes trailed down to the little bin and its obvious contents.

Lowe opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He tried several more times to explain himself, but it was obvious he was quite flustered indeed! It was then that Lightoller stepped in to save him.

"It was nothing, really. We had a little accident and my cup of tea was the casualty, I'm afraid. Mister Lowe was good enough to sweep it up for me while I ponder what to do about that stain," Lightoller explained as he pointed at the spot on the deck just in front of the door.

He watched as Wilde turned to look at the spot indicated, then back up at him with a raised brow, clearly not expecting that answer, though what he was expecting, Lightoller wasn't sure. Lightoller couldn't quite read his expression. It seemed to be swapping back and forth between exasperation and amusement. There was something else there as well, but Lightoller simply couldn't place it.

Lightoller cast a quick look at Lowe to see if he would refute what he had just said and saw the younger man staring back at him also in surprise. Perhaps, even a touch of gratitude? It was clear to him Lowe hadn't expected him to cover for him with the Chief Officer. No doubt the younger man expected him to throw him to the lions for his poor behavior, and it would have been his right. But he hadn't, and Lowe had recognized that.

"How unfortunate," Wilde said as he too turned to look at Lowe, his expression becoming a little more firm. "I had heard a commotion earlier. I suppose it had something to do with that?" he added as he pointed towards the bin with the broken teacup.

"We were both very surprised, as you can rightly guess. Terribly sorry to have disturbed you, old chap," Lightoller said cheerily as he bent down and retrieved Lowe's discarded brush.

"No harm done," Wilde quickly replied with a dismissive waive of his hand. There was rarely anything that could disturb a sailor while on board, barring the angry shouting of his captain of course.

Lightoller straightened back up to see him eyeing them both with a considering gaze.

"So, everything alright here?" he finally asked, his gaze sweeping back and forth between them, before settling on Lowe who all but shriveled on the spot under the scrutiny. "Nothing that needs my attention?" he added with a pointedly raised brow.

Lightoller was suddenly reminded of the sound of a closing door when he had stepped out of the chart room, and he wondered again just how much Wilde actually knew. The Chief Officer's cabin was just across from the chart room and Lightoller wasn't sure how much could be heard from within it. He himself had never heard much from that room, or the bridge for that matter, but his cabin was the third one down the hall. What he did hear, usually came from outside on the officers' promenade. Wilde was very aware of the tension that had been bubbling up between the two of them and had gone so far as to educate Lightoller on how to cane Lowe if it ever came down to that, but that didn't mean he knew that Lightoller had actually gone and done it, not more than a few minutes ago, didn't it? He gave Wilde a scrutinizing gaze of his own. That man had an uncanny ability to know things he shouldn't, and Lightoller was starting to think he might know what had transpired in the chart room. But he wasn't admitting to that, oddly enough, and hadn't corrected Lightoller's explanation, making the Second Officer doubt himself all over again.

It really was quite vexing. No wonder he always kept Lowe on his toes.

But no matter. Whether he knew or not, Lightoller wasn't going to reveal what happened unless directly asked. He had taken Wilde's advice and solved the problem on his own, so to speak, and as far as he was concerned, it was done and dusted. He and Lowe had settled their differences and taken the first steps towards friendship. He wasn't about to jeopardize that now.

"Everything is fine. Though if you're looking for something to do, maybe you'd like to scrub out that stain for me?" Lightoller asked him with a grin as he held the brush out to him, waggling it playfully. He had to hold back his mirth when Wilde looked down at the brush in his outstretched hand as if it was the most vile, repulsive thing that he had ever seen, and it personally offended him. When he looked back up at Lightoller, his face was still stern, but he could just make out a hint of amusement in his dark blue eyes.

"No, thank you. I have plenty to occupy my mind I assure you, Mister Lightoller," Wilde said dryly. His gaze once more shifted to Lowe who had been standing there silently during the whole exchange, probably holding his breath and wishing he could disappear. "Mister, Lowe?" he addressed the younger man, causing him to snap to attention.

"Yes, sir?" he replied nervously.

Lightoller watched as once again Wilde's face softened at the sight. His expression went from stern, to more friendly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Come find me when your watch is over, lad. There was something I wanted to discuss with you."

Lightoller's ever present curiosity was peaked, and he had to fight the urge to tell Henry he could speak to Lowe right here and now if he wanted to and not to mind him. But he remembered to be a gentleman and kept his mouth shut. It wouldn't have been the first time Wilde had had private chats with their Fifth Officer. The friendly kind that is, opposed to the more unpleasant ones in his cabin. Lowe and Wilde had begun to spend more and more time together, ever since that incident with those blasted pirates, and Lightoller could see it was doing them both a bit of good. Wilde was clearly emerging out of the dark place he had been after the death of his wife, and Lowe had opened up more, not just to Wilde, but the rest of them also.

And now he had begun to do so with Lightoller.

So he wouldn't pry, though it just about killed him.

"I…yes, sir," Lowe dutifully replied, though it was clear he was unsure of what Wilde wanted to discuss with him.

"Good lad," Wilde said. He gave them both a look, then turned on his heel and opened the door to the wheelhouse. "Carry on men," he said over his shoulder as he disappeared inside, heading back to his cabin no doubt.

Lightoller watched him go until the door to the officer's quarters closed shut behind him. Then he pushed his cap further back on his head and let out a large breath. He looked over at Lowe who was still standing there like he wasn't sure what to do.

"Some help you were," Lightoller joked as he suddenly tossed the brush at the younger officer who just barely caught it as he snapped out of his paralysis. "Left me to do all the talking," he added.

Lowe looked down at the brush in his hand a moment, gathering his thoughts, then looked back up at Lightoller and gave him a rueful smile.

"Well, you are the senior officer," he quipped.

"Ha! Now you remember!" Lightoller barked out a laugh. He shook his head when Lowe simply shrugged his shoulders and tossed the brush in the air, catching its twirling form in his hand.

Lowe gave a small laugh of amusement himself at the truth of that, but then he became serious once again just as quickly. He looked down at the brush in his hand, then at the bin with its broken pieces of crockery at his feet, then finally back up at Lightoller. His face held a question and Lightoller was pretty sure he knew what it would be. He patiently waited until the younger officer finally voiced it.

"Why…," he began, faltered, started again. "Why did you not tell Mister Wilde?" he asked him, putting words to the surprise that Lightoller had seen on his face earlier.

"Tell him what?" Lightoller responded with just a hint of mischief in his tone.

"About what happened, about the teacup," Lowe specified, pointing down to the bin with the brush.

"I believe I did," Lightoller replied. "You should know that, as you were standing right there."

"Oh, stop it. You know what I mean," Lowe said with exasperation, but his tone was tempered by an undercurrent of amusement and a healthy dollop of gratitude he still felt towards Lightoller for doing precisely what he did.

Lightoller chuckled and reaffixed his hat properly on his brow.

"Several reasons, I believe, though the main one was I didn't see the need," he began, locking eyes with the younger officer. "You and I had settled our disagreement. It had been between you and me, and between you and me it shall remain. What purpose would it have served if I had told him?" Lightoller questioned him. "Would any good have come from it?" he added with a raised, knowing brow.

"Absolutely none," Lowe confirmed, and Lightoller almost laughed again at the expression on the younger officer's face as he imagined what might have happened. Whatever his imagination was conjuring, it wasn't pleasant. Then again, he really didn't need to rely on imagination as he had already had real world experience as to what would have happened. Lightoller knew that as well, and that had played a big part in his decision not to mention it.

"I told you we were more alike than not," Lightoller continued. "I have been in your shoes before, far too often, and I simply felt compelled to come to the rescue of a fellow mischief maker," he teased with a small smile. He was pleased when Lowe returned it with one of his own. "Now don't get me wrong, I meant what I said in there, and I stand by the fact you needed to be disciplined for your actions," he warned, pointing a finger at him. "But the matter is all settled, and it needn't be brought up again, not even to the Chief Officer," he finished with a cheeky, conspiratorial wink.

Lowe did laugh then, and he shook his head at Lightoller's antics.

"I must admit, I had no idea this side of you existed," Lowe revealed a bit sheepishly. "Though that was partly my fault, I suppose." He looked up at Lightoller with another serious expression. "I really am sorry for all this," he said as he waived aimlessly in the direction of the bin and the stain on the deck.

Lightoller clucked his tongue and help up a hand.

"Harry, you need not continue to apologize to me. You have already done so once, and I accepted it. That was all I needed. I never did understand how some men would hold onto a grudge long after an apology was delivered. It is my opinion that once you accept one's apology, no more are required. If you need more, than no amount will ever be enough," he explained sincerely.

"Mister Wilde is very much the same," Lowe replied quietly, thoughtfully.

Lightoller snorted.

"And thank God for that. I've had to stand before him and give that man my own apologies before, and I am forever grateful that he only requires one. Our Chief Officer can be quite intimidating when he wants to be, don't you think?" Lightoller asked in a commiserating tone.

"And then some!" Lowe announced with a huff of amusement and raising both eyebrows as he recalled some of his own apologies to the larger man, but then he suddenly paused, his eyes darting back up to Lightoller's face. He pointed the brush at him. "Hang on, when did you have to apologize to him?" There was new interest blossoming upon his comely features. "You don't mean to say...he hasn't…you haven't…"

The words weren't coming out though the younger man was doing his best to push them out. His interest was clearly peeked and Lightoller knew exactly what the younger man was trying to ask him, just like he had when Lowe had inquired as to why he had covered for him with Wilde. Lightoller held the answer Lowe sought, but he wasn't going to give it to him. It was far too much fun to keep young Mister Lowe guessing.

"Oh no, I will not be telling you anymore. That is between me and Mister Wilde, just as our matter is between you and I," he explained with a note of finality. "Besides," he continued as he buffed the nails of his right hand on his jacket before theatrically admiring them. "I would have to tell you what I had done, and I know Mister Wilde would not appreciate me giving you any ideas," he ended on an airy tone.

"Come now, that's not really fair," Lowe complained. "Surely you can tell a fellow mischief maker?" Lowe teased, using Lightoller's own words to hopefully help persuade him.

Lightoller gave him the side eye.

"Already forgetting that I am the senior officer, are you now?" Lightoller replied with a knowing smirk, tossing back Lowe's own words just as easily.

"No, sir," Lowe responded, emphasizing the 'sir'.

"Ha!" Lightoller barked in genuine amusement. He shook his head and gestured to the bin at Lowe's feet. "Come on now, let's dispose of that before the Captain sees it," he said.

"You are changing the subject," Lowe accused him even as he bent over to retrieve the bin and dustpan off the deck.

"Senior officer, remember?" Lightoller tossed back. He was pleased to hear Lowe's snort of genuine amusement.

"Touche," Lowe replied as he straightened up, a grin upon his lips.

"You take care of that while I see about this stain," Lightoller told him as he walked the few steps over to it and scraped at it again with his toe like he could somehow magically wipe it away with the polished leather. "I can just bloody hear Will's voice if he sees this," he muttered, almost as if to himself, but Lowe must have heard him as he let out a short laugh.

"I will fetch the grit I used last time," Lowe explained as he dumped the dustpan in the bin and shifted it into his left arm. "For all the good it will do, I'm afraid."

Lightoller could understand. Seawater and sand, or grit, only managed to scrub away the surface stains on the planking, but not much further than that. But still, it was better than nothing.

"We shall do our best," Lightoller replied as he gave up trying to scrape away the stain.

"Thank you, Mister Lightoller," Lowe suddenly said and it caused Lightoller to turn and look back up at him.

Lowe's expression was one of soft gratitude, such a far cry from the hard obstinance from before. Lightoller wasn't exactly sure what Lowe was thanking him for. It could have been for handling their disagreement between themselves, or Lightoller not ratting him out to Wilde, or it could simply be because of Lightoller's obvious offer to help with the stain on the deck. It could have been any of those, or all of them.

"You are welcome, Mister Lowe," Lightoller said, to any and all reason's Lowe may have had.

Lowe gave him another tentative smile, then nodded his head once and turned to head down the deck and towards a storage room. It did not pass Lightoller's notice that Lowe gave his seat a discreet rub as he turned the corner of the bridge.

                  __________________________________________________________________________

It didn't take them long to give up on the stain. They had done their best, just like Lightoller had said, but their best still left a slightly darker coloring on the pale decking. So with identical looks of defeat and a shrugging of shoulders, they put away their supplies and prayed no one would notice it. Wilde wouldn't mention it, Lightoller was reasonably sure, and he really wasn't all that worried about any of the others seeing it, barring Will of course. That man could be worse than Wilde sometimes, especially when concerning Lightoller.

With task done, Lowe finally noticed there was someone missing from the bridge.

"Where has Mister Pitman gone to?" he asked as he craned his head, looking this way and that as if he had simply not spotted the other officer.

"I had plum forgotten!" Lightoller admitted with a laugh as he ran a hand over his eyes, only to realize he still had some wet sand between his fingers. He quickly aborted that maneuver, shaking his hand before him a few times before giving up and reaching into his coat pocket for his handkerchief. "What with all that happened, it just slipped my mind. I do hope he's fixed whatever problem was bedeviling the crane operators down there," he added. His fingers touched something small and metal inside his lined pocket. "Hello?" he said in confusion as he pulled out the small piece from Pitman's watch he had picked up from the deck before heading into the chart room. Yet another thing he had forgotten. "Oh, right," he said to himself as he remembered.

"Why have you pocket watch cog on you?" he heard Lowe ask him.

Lightoller transferred his gaze from the cog to the officer standing next to him.

"How do you know this is from a pocket watch?" Lightoller asked curiously. To him it didn't much look like anything. It could have come from any number of delicate instruments on Titanic's sophisticated bridge. Yet Lowe had recognized it right away.

"Well, it is, isn't?" Lowe retorted good naturedly.

"Yes, from Bert's, but again, how did you know that? Have you some experience with watch making?" he asked him, intrigued now.

"I come from a family of jewelers and watch makers," Lowe revealed. "I've seen my fair share of clockwork innards," he added as he held out his hand. "May I?" he asked him, raising his brows in respectful anticipation.

Lightoller handed the cog over.

"Yes, of course. Jewelers you say? Then why on Earth are you here, working as an officer? I would think there was more money in a family business," Lightoller said as he watched Lowe turn the cog over and over in his hand. He was genuinely surprised to hear that Lowe had come from such a respectful profession. Most of those who took up a profession in the maritime industry came from that very same background, though Lightoller himself had bucked that trend by hailing from a family of cotton mill owners.

He and Lowe were even more alike than he had thought.

"It wasn't for me. I had no desire for it whatsoever. So I went to sea," Lowe told him with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"Now that, I can understand," Lightoller replied with a nod of his head.

"This cog seems alright, if a little dirty. Mister Pitman's watch won't work without it though, I'm afraid," Lowe announced.

"Can't imagine what he thought he was doing," Lightoller replied.

"Who was doing what now?" A voice said from directly behind him, causing Lightoller and Lowe to jump on the spot, though Lightoller tried to play it down as if he hadn't been as startled as he actually had been. He turned behind him to see Pitman standing there, a pleasant, yet slightly puzzled look upon his face.

"Bloody hell, Bert! How many times have I told you not to do that! Make a noise next time, won't you?" Lightoller groused, bringing a hand to his chest. Their Third Officer had an uncanny ability to appear and disappear silently as if by magic. It vexed all of them to no end every time he did it.

"Oh, didn't I though?" Pitman asked as he raised a hand to scratch the side if his head under his cap.

"You most certainly did not," Lightoller complained.

"Terribly sorry then," he apologized. "Would you prefer me to say anything in particular next time?" he added helpfully.

"A hullo would have been fine," Lightoller replied, shaking his head.

"Hullo," Pitman dutifully parroted back.

Lightoller narrowed his eyes at him as he heard Lowe snicker behind him.

"Never mind, forget I said anything," Lightoller said as he threw his hands up in defeat.

"He probably already has," Lowe murmured out the side of his mouth and under his breath.

Lightoller had to screw his mouth shut to keep from laughing at that rude, yet hilariously true observation. Instead he turned slightly to raise a warning finger up at Lowe. The younger man dropped his gaze back to the cog in his hand, but Lightoller could still see the smile playing on his lips. The Second Officer turned back to the Third and addressed him.

"Well then, I take it that crane business has been all sorted out?" he asked him as he placed his hands behind his back.

"Oh! Yes! It was something to do with a stuck wheel, I believe," Pitman declared. "One chap climbed inside the outer covering and gave it a few good whacks with a wrench and the cable moved freely after that. I did have a man run down to consult Mister Bell, but for the time being it looks as if the problem has been resolved. I do wonder if Mister Andrews and his guarantee group should be notified about this," Pitman said thoughtfully.

Lightoller refrained from rolling his eyes. Of course they would need this brought to their attention. That was their whole purpose for being on this maiden voyage. No matter, he would personally speak to Andrews later.

"Speaking of wheels," Lowe spoke up. "Are you having trouble with your watch, Mister Pitman?" Lowe asked him as he held his palm out, little brass cog sitting in the middle of it, showing it the other man.

"Oh! Why yes I am! I say, did that come from my watch?" he asked as he reached into his pocket and pulled it out. "I don't recall dropping it," he muttered as he opened it up to look.

"You dropped it just as you were leaving down to the well deck," Lightoller explained.

"Oh. Well Jolly good one of you found it then!" Pitman said cheerfully. "Though what good it will do I can't say. I can't seem to make this thing work," he said as he shook his pocket watch next to his ear.

"Would you like me to take a look at it, sir?" Lowe asked. "I may be able to do something with it."

Lightoller watched as Pitman looked back at their junior officer quizzically.

"You think so, Mister Lowe? Well, I don't see what harm would be in it," he told him as he handed over the watch. "Lord knows I can't do anything with it."

"I shall do my best," Lowe replied as he opened up the back of the watch.

Lightoller and Pitman watched in silence as Lowe fiddled with the insides, bringing the watch close to his face. Lightoller was amazed that he could do anything at all without tools. The clockworks inside a watch were very small and delicate indeed, yet Lowe seemed to be having little issue.

"I say," Pitman began as he continued to watch. "How do you know how to do that?" he asked Lowe in amazement.

"Family business," Lowe explained for the second time as he snapped the little cog in place and gave it an experimental push, pleased with the movement he saw from within. "Lowe and Sons. There's a shop in Liverpool, a couple in Wales," Lowe told them distractedly as he snapped the casing closed and turned the watch over in his hand. "I take it this doesn't require a winding key?" Lowe asked Pitman.

"Lord no, I would never be able to wind it again if I had to remember where I left a key," Pitman replied. "You wind it by the crown," he added.

"I thought as much," Lowe said with a smile as he pulled the top crown of the watch up, then began turning it to wind it. "Much more convenient in my opinion."

Lightoller watched in amazement as Lowe finished winding the crown, pushed it back into place, smiled, then held the watch out triumphantly to them both.

"There you go, sir! Good as new! Though it does require a good cleaning."

"Well my word!" Pitman exclaimed happily as he took his watch back. "Thank you Mister Lowe. I must say, I am very impressed! I simply had no idea you possessed such skills," Pitman said as he went to setting the correct time, though how he was determining what that was, was beyond Lightoller. He didn't think he could see the ship's clock from the bridge wing.

"Neither had I," Lightoller added, giving Lowe a grin. "Good show, old chap. Well done," he praised. He meant it as well. It was shocking to him just how much he had learned about their Fifth Officer in just the past hour. It was certainly more than he had been able to glean from the whole two weeks prior.

"It was nothing, really," Lowe replied, clearly embarrassed.

Lightoller simply clapped him on a shoulder.

"Capitol! I had worried this might have been the end for this," Pitman said as he held the watch up to them. "Such a shame for such a storied piece."

"Storied?" Lightoller asked, instantly intrigued. He sensed a whopper of a tale, and he was more than ready for one. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned in closer.

"Why yes. The shop that sold it to me said it was wrested from the hands of a witchdoctor deep in the forest of some undiscovered island," Pitman said matter of factually.

Lightoller straightened back up, a look of disbelief on his face, then he turned to Lowe who caught his look and held up both hands.

"Oh no, wasn't our shop!" he quickly defended himself.

"Wasn't a jewelers at all, really," Pitman continued. It had an odd name, something-something curios, I believe. Well, it did before it burned down in a mysterious fire. And quite the odd one at that. Didn't touch the buildings around it. But any how, I was walking down the street when this wizened old man came bursting out the shop door, nearly knocking me to the pavement, telling me the spirits had foretold of my coming and that I was the chosen one…,"

"Oh come off it," Lightoller scoffed, uncrossing an arm to waive his words down dismissively. "You are having us on here."

"I most certainly am not!" Pitman retorted. "Right here is the proof," he added, holding up his fixed watch.

Lightoller marked the time Pitman had set it to. Then he pulled out his own, his eyes widening in surprise as his watch's hand placements matched Pitman's exactly. How on Earth had he set it correctly?

"Alright, tell us more," he reluctantly said as he put away his own watch inside its pocket.

"Well, naturally I went in," Pitman continued.

"Naturally," Lightoller drawled.

He didn't know how long the three of them stood there, listening to the tale of Pitman's watch, but in the end, he was glad the bloody shop had burned down, and Lowe was asking if any of the priests were on board yet, mumbling something about washing his hands in holy water…

Chapter Text

Wilde's mind kept straying to his two officers as he worked on his paperwork at the desk in his cabin. There was a noticeable change between Charles and Harry, and he was pleased. Very pleased. He had to admit that he had actually been taken by surprise when Charles had appeared to cover for his junior officer on the bridge, the very same one that had given him so much grief for the past two days. He chuckled and shook his head slightly at the memory. The Charles of yesterday would have been all too eager to list the sins of their troublesome Fifth Officer. But he hadn't, and that spoke volumes to the change in their relationship. Wilde hoped that relationship would continue to grow. Charles was a good man, an excellent officer. So was Lowe for that matter, and it would benefit them both, and the company, if they developed a respectful working arrangement. It would be even better if they could cement a friendship as well. 

From what he had seen, the seeds had already been planted. Now it was up to them to help them grow.  

Wilde paused his writing as his mind suddenly conjured up what sort of trouble those two could get up to if they became partners in crime, and his mouth pursed in a wry grimace. He had heard about the cannon incident of course, along with a whole host of other incidents concerning Lightoller in his younger days. A few of them, Wilde, had witnessed himself. But Lightoller had calmed down a bit now, and he really was the consummate professional when on duty.  

He supposed he would just have to keep a closer eye on them when they were together. If he ever spied them huddled close, their heads down in conspiratorial discussion, he had the feeling he was going to become instantly suspicious. He might want to mention this to Will, but somehow he suspected the First Officer was already aware. He knew Lightoller better than anyone, after all. 

"Stop conjuring up trouble you don't need, you twit," Wilde mumbled to himself. "You have plenty enough already." 

A soft knock sounded against his door. 

"Speaking of…" Wilde smiled as he put down his fountain pen. 

 He checked the mantel clock and saw that it was exactly the end of Lowe's scheduled watch. The lad had come straight to him after. Good. He pushed back his chair and stood up. His cabin was the largest of all the officers, but it only took him a few steps to reach the door. They were very big steps of course, so not the best unit of measurement he supposed. He pulled the door open to reveal his Fifth Officer, hands behind his back, standing at attention, a nervous look upon his comely face. 

"You wished to see me, sir?" he respectfully asked. 

"Yes, come in," Wilde replied as he stepped back and held the door open for him. Lowe slipped by him and went to stand in the center of the room. He always went to that spot, waiting for instructions to either make himself comfortable, or to brace himself for a round scolding, most likely followed by a well-earned thrashing. It was clear to Wilde that Lowe wasn't sure what he should expect, and Wilde understood why. 

He didn't know what Wilde knew. 

No matter; he would find out soon enough. 

"You said you wanted to speak to me. Was there something you needed from me?" Lowe got right to the point as he placed his hands behind his back. It was painfully obvious he wasn't sure if this was an official request from the Chief Officer, or a more personal one from Henry. This wouldn't have been the first time Wilde had called Lowe to his cabin for nothing more than a friendly chat. They had been getting closer, and Wilde had essentially taken the lad under his wing. But the young Welshman had been called to his cabin before for other reasons as well, so it was no wonder that he wanted an explanation as soon as possible. 

That was fine with Wilde. 

"As a matter of fact, yes. An explanation would do nicely I think," he announced as he closed the door and locked it. He knew the younger man instantly realized this was not going to be a friendly chat as soon as he heard the lock click. When he turned back around, Lowe's eyes were wide in his head, and his mouth was hanging slightly open as if in stunned apprehension.  

"S-sir?" he stuttered as Wilde walked over and stood before him, crossing his arms over his waistcoat. 

Wilde eyed him for a good long moment, making him squirm on the spot. Then he raised one eyebrow, giving Lowe a knowing look. 

"What happened between you and Mister Lightoller?" Wilde finally asked, his tone firm. 

He watched as Lowe's eyes went even wider in surprise before the younger officer dropped his gaze to the floor, lowering his head as he no doubt tried to navigate this particular line of questioning. He turned his head one way, then the next, and it looked like he was trying to physically find the answer to Wilde's question inside the cabin. For his part, Wilde kept silent and watched with contained amusement as Lowe gave up and reluctantly met his eyes again. 

"Whatever do you mean, sir?" he asked in return. 

Whatever indeed! So he was to play it dumb, was he? Wilde had expected it, to be honest. Lowe did not know what Wilde knew, or even suspected, and therefore would not reveal any information that could incriminate him until he gleaned a little more information from Wilde himself. He had used that tactic before. It didn't work for him then, and it certainly wouldn’t work for him now. 

"You know very well what I mean," he told him firmly with a jerk of his chin. "I will ask again. What happened between you and Mister Lightoller?" he repeated slowly. He hadn't given Lowe any new information, hadn't revealed how much he knew, and it would be the younger man's decision to tell the truth or not. Wilde certainly hoped he would choose the first option, as it would make this all much easier if he didn't have to wash Lowe's mouth out first. 

Lowe glanced away again, let out a deep sigh, then looked back up at him. 

"I made him drop his tea. A few...words were said," he reluctantly explained.  

Wilde waited for him to say more, but Lowe didn't continue and simply stood there, waiting for Wilde's response. It technically was the truth, something that Wilde was grateful for, but it wasn't the whole truth. Lowe was being deliberately vague, keeping very tightlipped. 

"Did you do it on purpose?" Wilde asked him. He saw Lowe's eyes widen again, and he hastily opened his mouth to reply when Wilde just as swiftly held up a hand, forcing Lowe to close it again. "Now, you think real hard how you mean to answer that question, boyo. I think I've made my views on dishonesty very clear to you by now," he told him warningly.  

He saw Lowe's eyes dart to the vanity behind Wilde and the brand-new bar of soap Wilde had placed predominantly on the edge. 

Oh yes, he knew. 

Those big brown eyes met his once more, and Wilde could see that Lowe understood now that Wilde probably knew more than Lowe had suspected. Those eyes lowered once again, and Lowe shifted his weight nervously. 

"I…don't know what I had been thinking," he finally said. It was an admission without an admission. "I regretted it the moment the cup hit the deck," he added lowly. 

"Hm. I dare say you regretted it more when he took you to the chart room," Wilde announced. 

Lowe's reaction was immediate. His head shot up, and he stared at Wilde. He unclasped his hands and brought them to hang at his sides, his fingers clenching and unclenching nervously into fists. 

"How…how did you know?" he asked, utterly bewildered.  

"Lad, I know everything that goes on on this ship. You should know that by now," Wilde told him, trying to contain his smile at Lowe's suddenly dismayed face. The younger man looked very uncomfortable and suitably embarrassed. He peeked up at him from under the brim of his hat. It was clear he wanted to ask Wilde if he also knew that Lightoller had caned him. It was so painfully obvious, yet it looked like Lowe just couldn't bring himself to voice it. Wilde decided to give him a break. He hadn't brought him here to torture him after all. 

"Yes, I know he caned you," he told him. 

He saw Lowe close his eyes then and hang his head. He let out another heavy sigh, shaking his head slightly. He stood there silently, shifting his weight uncomfortably from foot to foot. With the way his eyes darted this way and that, he looked as if he was trying to decide whether he should stay put or make a run for the door. After a long moment, he took a deep breath, held it, and let it out in one big, defeated sigh. The brim of his cap lifted, and Wilde was able to see his eyes once more. 

"Respectfully, sir, I don't know how to respond to that," he finally admitted, his cheeks tinged a light pink. 

Wilde huffed in amusement. 

"We needn't go over that part of it, Mister Lowe," Wilde began, firm once again. "Let us begin with how you ended up there. And I want the whole story this time," Wilde demanded as he uncrossed one arm to point a warning a finger at Lowe. "No prevaricating, no half-truths, no waffling or quibbling. Speak plainly and to the point. Do you understand?" 

"Yes, sir," Lowe quickly replied, though it was clear he wasn't sure how to do so. He looked around the room again as if seeking some sort of sign as to where to start, before Wilde finally took pity on him yet again. 

"Start from the beginning, lad; the very moment you got it into your fool head that you needed to teach Mister Lightoller a lesson." 

He raised his warning finger higher and cocked his head to the side, raising one brow as well, as Lowe made to open his mouth to refute his claim. He quickly shut it again at Wilde's display. There was no use in denying it. They both understood that that was what Lowe had been doing. 

"Yes, sir," Lowe said again, more resignedly now, and launched into the whole sordid tale. 

It wasn't very long, but it was entertaining to say the least. Lowe explained how he had become quite soured to Lightoller after that supper where he had so carelessly revealed he had purchased the canes. It had only gotten worse after Lightoller had appeared to inject himself into Lowe's business after he returned from town. Lowe admitted it was a misperception on his part, but a misperception he had held onto with growing resentment. Those feelings had escalated, becoming more troublesome, pushing Lowe's dislike for Lightoller to ever greater heights. He admitted to Wilde the thoughts that had driven his rash actions, how he had thought Lightoller had disliked him, held him in little regard, and saw him as nothing more than an outsider that needed to be kept that way. Then after another deep breath, he had admitted to all the little passive aggressive misdeeds he had subjected Lightoller to, culminating in causing him to drop his teacup to the deck when Lowe had purposefully pushed the door into him. He revealed the words he had spoken that had finally pushed Lightoller to take action and send him to the chart room. 

"But we've worked it all out now," Lowe quickly tacked on to the end of his lengthy confession. "We really have!" he said as he held his hands out wide. 

Wilde was silent for a moment as he took in Lowe's full confession. And what the confession it had been! He admittedly knew most of it already, but he hadn't known the intricacies of it; what was really driving Lowe's behavior. He had had a hunch of course, knowing Lowe as well as he did now, but he had secretly wished he had been wrong. He had hoped Lowe had had a legitimate reason for disliking Lightoller, but the poor lad had simply latched onto well ingrained insecurities and had let them take over. It had bothered Wilde to hear Lowe say he had thought Lightoller saw him as an outsider and meant to keep him that way. He suspected that may have happened to Harry on other ships before, and that thought did not sit well with him. Not at all. And it did not sit well with him either that Lowe had felt this way now, apparently for days. 

"Why didn't you come to one of us, to me?" Wilde finally asked him, his tone and expression unreadable, both carefully controlled. 

The question seemed to shock Lowe, like an unexpected poke with a sharp stick, and he looked at Wilde like the thought had never occurred to him, but he didn't know why it hadn't. 

"I-well…I just…," Lowe struggled to articulate. "I suppose I thought it not worth anyone's time," he finally admitted. "What does it matter to you, or Mister Murdoch, or even James if I have an issue with a fellow crewmate?" Lowe asked him, shrugging his shoulders. 

Wilde found himself even more curious about this young officer's past, and for what to have happened to him for him to feel this way. Every man had his baggage, that was true, and Wilde was not above acknowledging that he wished he could peek into Lowe's. The young man was smart, tenacious, and had a drive to rival any man. He had to, to be where he is today at his age. But he also had vulnerabilities, cracks in his outer shell of strength and independence that showed the potential vulnerability underneath. Every man had those cracks as well, but Wilde had no need or desire to peer into those. Those he wanted to shore up and make whole again.  

Wilde was no masonry expert, but he could plug a crack well enough. 

He gave Lowe an understanding look. He didn't blame him for his thoughts, his perceptions, but he aimed to set him straight. 

"It does matter, Harry. To all of us. Yes, even Pitman," he explained when Lowe's expression became skeptical. "Look, lad. I don't know all of what you experienced on past ships, though someday I hope you will share that with me," he began, ignoring the way Lowe's lips tightened as if he intended for that to never happen. " But here on Titanic, with this crew, things are different. We are a crew, a crew that respects one another and relies on one another. I had hoped you had begun to see that," he said with a soft tone. 

"I've started to, sir," Lowe had to admit. "But I'm afraid the fault appears to be more on my end," he added a bit ruefully. 

Wilde understood that as well. The concept that he could belong to a crew, rather than just working on one, was apparently a new one for Lowe. It took time for such a shift to be accepted and embraced. 

"Well, that's good to hear at least," Wilde snorted. "Your voice is not silent here, Harry, and it has every right to be heard, just as mine does. If you have an issue, especially one that you might require assistance with, then you are free to speak up and ask for council. You will not be looked down upon or thought any less of. How often have you seen me go to Mister Murdoch for advice?" Wilde asked him pointedly. 

"Well…," Lowe replied, still uncertain. 

"And had you come to any of us with your feelings on Mister Lightoller, we could have helped you. We all know him, some of us very well, and we could have headed this whole mess off before it ever got such a head of steam. I can honestly say that if you had even brought these concerns up to Charles, he would have been quite surprised and would have no doubt done his best to correct this perception you held." 

"He…he did so at that," Lowe admitted somewhat sheepishly. "When we were talking, in the chart room," he clarified when Wilde gave him a questioning look. "He was surprised. Had no idea he came off that way. Or…or how I felt about it all." Lowe was looking down now, as if in thought. 

Wilde hoped he was.  

"Speak up next time, lad," Wilde said gently. "It may seem silly for me to say this on a ship the size as this but…you're not alone here, Harry." 

Lowe looked back up at him, and Wilde could see the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. He gave a slight nod in understanding. That was enough for Wilde. He didn't need promises or declarations to do better. He didn't need for Harry to proclaim all his feelings, all his thoughts, all his perceptions had been utterly ridiculous and unfounded, because they weren't. Lowe was entitled to all of those, no matter if they were misguided, just as much as any man on Titanic was. All Wilde wanted from Lowe was an acknowledgement that he understood he could come to them, any of them, to him, if he needed help, guidance. 

"Will you promise me that at least? That you will remember what I've said, and keep that in mind next time you are troubled?" Wilde asked him seriously. 

"I will not make a promise to you I do not know I will be able to keep, Mister Wilde," Lowe said after a beat. "But I will promise you that…I will try." 

Wilde felt the stirrings of pride in his chest at Lowe's response. This lad really was something different. Chock full of surprises. And perhaps maybe, one less crack? 

"I can't ask for more, Mister Lowe," Wilde replied with a warm smile. 

Lowe tentatively returned it. 

"Now then," Wilde changed tactics, standing up to his full height again as he looked down at his Fifth Officer. "Let's talk about your behavior over the past two days, shall we?" 

Lowe's smile dropped faster than an anchor at harbor. He shifted on the spot and gave Wilde an earnest look. 

"I-I'm terribly sorry for how I behaved, Mister Wilde," Lowe began, apparently deciding to just bite the bullet and get this over with. "It was very unprofessional of me, and I sincerely regret it. I can assure you it will not happen again," he finished with a serious expression. He looked as if he meant it, but then again, he usually did once he was called out for his behavior. 

"Unprofessional indeed," Wilde agreed, his tone firm, his expression even more so. "I would even go so far as to call it childish," he admonished. 

He watched as Lowe hung his head to look at the carpet, his hands going behind his back as they were wont to do when he was being reprimanded. Wilde wasn't sure, as the brim of the young man's cap was covering a good deal of his face now, but he suspected Lowe was blushing. 

"Yes, sir," he responded quietly. 

"I seem to recall I warned you off such behavior just recently, didn't I?" Wilde questioned him, one brow raising. 

Lowe did look up then, only to gulp nervously at Wilde's expression, then his gaze dropped again as if his eyes were lead weights. His shoulders slumped a little as he shifted his weight nervously to his other foot. 

"Yes, sir," he replied again. 

Wilde kept the smile from forming on his lips. Harry was taking the safe route today and simply answering Wilde's inquiries with a respectful 'yes, sir.' It was a good strategy usually, when faced with the ire of one's superior, but Wilde expected a little more engagement from his troublesome officer. 

"Yes, sir, what?" Wilde prompted sternly, causing Lowe's head to snap back up in surprise. 

That surprise didn't last long, however, as reprimands of the past clued him into what Wilde was fishing for. 

"You did, sir," Lowe sighed. "You did warn me off." He paused for a moment, as if gathering his courage. "And I did take your warning seriously, and had meant to follow it but…," here he trailed off, unsure. 

Wilde remained silent, allowing Lowe to finish his thought. 

"But after that supper where…where Mister Lightoller and I quarreled, I guess…I guess I let my temper get the better of me," he finally explained. "I regret that now, for several reasons," he added, almost under his breath as he looked away and to the side. 

Wilde once again found himself fighting back a smile. He believed him. He knew Harry wasn't a bad sort, or he wouldn't have bothered with him at all. He had a good heart in him, but was recklessly impetuous, especially when it came to his temper. Wilde only had to think back a few weeks prior to when Titanic had been boarded by pirates. That impetuousness and temper had caused no small amount of trouble! 

"What have I told you about that temper, lad," Wilde said more softly, letting out a small sigh as he shook his head at the younger officer. It was a statement, not a question, as they both knew the answer. 

"I know, Mister Wilde, I know," Lowe copied Wilde's sigh as he shook his own head at himself. "But I do try…," he said as he held his hands out in front of him in a gesture that seemed to ask what else could he do? 

"Try and think through that haze of anger when it comes over you, lad," Wilde offered him in way of advice. He pointed a finger at him. "If you took more time to think through your actions instead of just reacting, then you wouldn't be walking around this ship with a sore arse all the time."  

It was blunt, but it was the truth, and Wilde knew it hit home when Lowe Lowered his hands, his chin, his eyes, and blushed. His hands crept back behind his back and Wilde wondered if the reminder of his thrashings had brought his attention back to the fact that Lightoller had recently caned him. He suspected Lowe wanted to rub at his bottom, if only in sympathy as surely he wasn't still sore now, but the lad could be as stubborn as Will, and he kept his hands still behind him. 

"Yes, sir," Lowe replied. 

Wilde did huff in amusement then at Lowe falling back onto those two simple words. He supposed it was just as well. There really wasn't much more to say on the matter anyway. Lowe understood what Wilde thought of this sort of behavior, and he had already been punished for it by Lightoller. Wilde was pleased they had finally settled things between them, but he wasn't too pleased that it took a caning to accomplish that. So that just left the matter between Lowe and himself. 

"All right then, I will consider the matter between you and Mister Lightoller closed. Now I won't have any cause to think otherwise in the future, will I?" he asked, leaning in slightly towards the other man. 

"Oh no, sir!" Lowe quickly confirmed. "We've come to an understanding," he hastily added. 

"Good to hear," Wilde replied as he gave his young officer a satisfied nod. "I suppose all that is left to do now is to settle the matter between us then." 

That threw the younger man, and he stared at Wilde with wide eyes, mouth slightly open, waiting for that sentence to make sense. It clearly wasn't, so Wilde watched as Lowe tilted his head slightly to the side and drew his brows together in obvious confusion. 

"Sir?" he asked after a moment. 

Wilde didn't suspect Lowe had for forgotten the new rule he had implemented for him, but he had begun to notice an optimistic streak within the younger officer that tended to lead him to believe that certain things simply couldn't happen, wouldn't happen, even against all evidence to the otherwise. Wishful thinking to put it more bluntly, in Wilde's opinion. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind was the exact explanation to what Wilde meant about settling the matter between them now, but the lad simply didn't believe that that was really the case, and therefore had dismissed the very idea and had buried it deep and out of the way, leaving him with his confusion now as to what Wilde might be referring to instead. 

Wilde decided to help him out. 

"What did I tell you would happen if you disobeyed another officer, specifically to the degree that discipline was required?" Wilde asked calmly as he placed his hands behind his back and looked at his Fifth Officer expectantly. 

Lowe appeared frozen for a moment, simply staring at Wilde as if he didn't understand the language he was speaking, then his head tilted down, along with his eyes, and Wilde could see his gaze darting across the floor from left to right, a visual representation of him searching his memory. The eyes stopped moving and when they raised to meet Wilde's once more, they looked positively horrified! 

"Oh…oh no, sir," Lowe began, shaking his head in denial. His hands were back out in front of him, and he was using them to plead with Wilde. "You, you…surely you hadn't been serious!" The new desperation in his voice was obvious. 

"I am always serious when it comes to discipline," Wilde reminded him somewhat amusedly, though he was sure the humor was utterly lost on the lad currently. "Now, what was that new rule?" he asked again, lifting his chin and looking down at Lowe expectantly. 

"But, but you can't mean that! You simply can't! Mister Lightoller…"  

"Mister Lowe," Wilde interrupted him, his tone firm and full of authority. He was gratified to see Lowe's eyes widen again and his mouth snap close immediately. "I want you stop and think carefully about what I am asking you, and what your next words should be." He was putting all of his considerable authority behind his tone, and he was pleased to see it was having an effect on the younger officer, who was stood there as if being chastised by the captain himself. "I want you to recite that new rule, to me, out loud," he demanded. 

Lowe looked as if he was shrinking on the spot. His shoulders were no longer straight and tall, but rather slumped and rounded as he dropped his pleading hands to his sides in defeat. His head looked as if it weighed a great weight, and it was a struggle for him to keep it up. His eyes once more dropped, and he let out a sigh that would have filled the sails of any mast. 

"You said…you said if I was…," The younger man was clearly struggling over his next word, hesitancy written all over his face, but he finally spat it out as he no doubt hated the way it tasted just sitting on his tongue. "….punished, by another officer, then you would…you would…oh but why!" Lowe suddenly exploded; his defeated slump becoming a defiant stance. He flung an agitated hand out towards Wilde. "This is utterly ridiculous! You can't be suggesting that you mean to, to…," 

"To spank you?" Wilde helpfully supplied. 

"Yes!" Lowe snapped back, a frown upon his handsome face. 

Wilde remained calm in the face of such ire and simply looked at Lowe; his expression stern. 

"First, you are reacting to your emotions again instead of thinking. Something I had just told you about, and something that you had just agreed to work on. I suggest you stop, and remember to whom you are speaking to, and how you should comport yourself," Wilde admonished him very firmly, a hand coming from behind his back to point a long finger at the younger officer. 

Lowe reacted like he had been dowsed with cold water, the hot anger sloughing off him to be replaced with the cold dread of warning. He seemed to catch himself and pulled back a little. His eyes once more hit the deck, and he pulled his expressive hands behind him, no doubt to clasp them tightly behind him to keep them muffled. His face flushed a light pink, and his lips pursed into a thin line as he bit back all the words he had wanted to say. 

Wilde waited for a beat, but when no more words or displays of temper came forth, he addressed Lowe once more. 

"Now, have you control of yourself?" Wilde asked him, an expectant look upon his face. 

Lowe grimaced but nodded. 

"Yes, sir. I apologize," he replied, his eyes still down, unable to, or perhaps unwilling to meet Wilde's. 

"Good," Wilde said, leaning back and standing a little taller. "Now, let's try and do a little of that thinking I was talking about. Why did I put that rule into effect?" he asked him, his voice less stern now and taking on the intonation of a teacher instructing a pupil. 

Lowe's face briefly flashed with emotion just then, as if he had some very choice words indeed to explain why Wilde had done such a thing, but he had taken Wilde's brief, but firm correction to heart, and he bit his tongue. Instead, he took a moment to push past his emotions and to answer the question appropriately. 

"The reason you gave me, sir, was that you gave me the order to obey those above me, and in disobeying them, I am disobeying you," Lowe finally got out.  

Wilde could tell it had been difficult for him. His face had looked as if every word had burned his lips on the way out and had tasted twice as bad. He was looking frustrated with himself as well, as if he was finally realizing he was losing this argument and there might be no recourse for him. 

"And do you think what happened today falls under that stipulation?" Wilde pressed. 

Lowe remained silent. 

"Answer me, Mister Lowe," Wilde growled, low and deep, congratulating himself on not barking out the order. 

But Lowe reacted as if he had, and his head snapped back up to meet Wilde's gaze. His expression was no longer defiant, but pleading once again, his large brown eyes entreated Wilde's blue ones for mercy. He knew the answer just as well as Wilde did, and he also knew that it might just seal his fate. 

"Please, sir," Lowe began, "I've already…," 

Wilde held up a hand to stop him. He wasn't interested in any more of Lowe's explanations. 

"Yes, or no, Mister Lowe," Wilde said simply. 

He watched as Lowe closed his mouth, then his eyes, gathered his resolve, and then met Wilde's gaze once more. 

"By your definition, sir, then yes," Lowe said quietly, shifting nervously to his other foot. 

Wilde nodded, proud of his officer for admitting such a thing. 

"Good thing it is my definition that matters," Wilde replied dryly as he placed his hands on his hips, towering over the smaller man. "You behaved atrociously towards a fellow officer, then you deliberately disobeyed him when he gave you that order to clean up the mess you had made, causing him to finally have to take you in hand. That alone would have earned you this thrashing you are about to get, but you had also ignored my very clear warning to drop this sort of behavior. I warned you before about what you could expect if you were punished by another officer, but you went and forced the issue anyway. I warned you to leave off Mister Lightoller, but you ignored that too. So now that you know what is about to happen, and why it is happening, I suggest we just get on with it. I doubt you want to drag this out all the way to your next watch," Wilde said as he made to take a step forward. 

"Wait!" Lowe suddenly yelled, hands out before him and his feet braced as if he meant to physically stop Wilde from moving any closer to him.  "N-now just wait a moment! Please, sir! Please, can't we talk about this? You don't need to do this!" 

"Oh, I think I do," Wilde countered, taking another step. 

Lowe mirrored his step, only backwards, and Wilde couldn't help feeling amused by the sight. Where exactly did the lad think he was going to go? Wilde's cabin was the biggest of all the officers, that's true, but that was only comparatively. Only the Captain had a truly large living space afforded him. If Lowe kept backing up as he was, he was going to back up into Wilde's desk.  

"But you don't understand! Mister Lightoller already…he…," again it appeared as if Lowe was having trouble voicing certain words. 

"Caned you," Wilde helpfully supplied, angling himself subtly so if Lowe continued to retreat from him, he would bump up against the bed now rather than the desk. 

"Yes! Yes, that!" Lowe said as he pointed a finger at Wilde, as if he had just revealed the answer to an elusive secret. 

"And why should that matter?" Wilde asked him, deliberately casual. He took another step closer. 

"Well, well, t-that means you can't…can't thrash me! That would be utterly cruel, don't you think?" Lowe asked him; the look on his face indicated that he at least thought so. 

"Cruel? Lad, no thrashing I have ever given you, nor ever will for that matter, will ever be considered cruel. Why would this one be any different?" 

"Because! Because I-I am terribly sore!" Lowe switched tactics. "Far too sore for another…well…," 

"From that baby cane? You'll have to do better than that, boyo." Wilde informed him as he took another step. 

Lowe fetched up against the side of Wilde's bed, and he almost fell backwards on top of it in his surprise. He turned to look down at it, as if he couldn't quite conceive how he had gotten that close to it, but just as quickly set his gaze back onto the real concern in the room. 

"Oh, but I am, Mister Wilde! Mister Lightoller was very cross with me! He really let me have it!" he insisted, gesturing with his hands. 

Wilde stopped a few paces away from him and crossed his arms over his waistcoat. He raised his brows in interest as he looked at him. When he spoke next, his tone was heavy with indulgence, not that his Fifth Officer picked up on it. 

"Oh? Harsh, was he?"  

"Very, sir!" Lowe nodded his head. "He wielded that cane as if the devil himself had control of it! Why, I thought he'd never stop!" 

Wilde was having some difficulty controlling his smile. He knew Lowe was fibbing, or at the very least, greatly exaggerating his ordeal. How he knew this was he had been listening in on that caning. Not out of some unsavory perversion, but because he had been concerned for both parties involved, and he thought it best if he was available to intervene if things got out of hand. The last thing he wanted was for Charles to lose control over himself and perhaps do more harm than good, or for Lowe to work himself up into a right state that he himself might make the whole situation ten times worse. He wasn't concerned that Charles would have been excessive with the cane, partly because that wasn't in his nature, but mostly as he was so inexperienced that he would most likely lean towards too light than too hard. But the man had a temper on him also, and with as antagonistic as Lowe had been towards him, Wilde wouldn't have been surprised if the younger man had goaded him to the point of Lightoller forgoing the cane altogether and just slugging him in the mouth. Again, extremely unlikely, but Wilde liked to be prepared for all circumstances. Wouldn't be the first time he had witnessed officers getting into a round of fisticuffs, though he had never witnessed it with this crew. 

And having listened in, he knew just how lenient that caning had been. Lowe's complaints had been just that. Complaints. They weren't the cries of someone in great pain or distress, and all his theatrics had been nothing but a show. Lightoller himself hadn't sounded as if he had been exerting himself, and his tone had never delved into frustration or anger that might have indicated he was more willing to really snap that cane down with greater force than necessary. Come to think of it, he was actually quite impressed with how Charles had handled the whole thing and meant to tell him so when they spoke next. 

He also knew how many whacks Lightoller had given him. 

"Never stop, eh?" Wilde questioned him. "Well then, how many whacks did he give you?" 

Lowe opened his mouth as if he was ready to name some outrageous number, but he seemed to stop himself at the last moment. Wilde watched curiously as the lad tried again but stopped before any words could leave his mouth. It looked to Wilde as if he was struggling with what he should say. Those brown eyes darted to Wilde's wash basin and the neatly wrapped bar of soap sitting on the edge. His eyes darted back to Wilde's. He pursed his lips, almost as if frustrated, but he finally gave an answer. 

"Well, it was six, but it was six of the best! He said so himself!" Lowe explained in a defensive tone. 

Wilde was proud of him for admitting the truth. He hadn't been sure which way Lowe would have gone, but he was pleasantly surprised to see the lad had taken the truthful route with him. It didn't bother him one bit that it was the soap and the threat of a mouth washing that seemed to have convinced him. Lowe was still learning here, and until he was willing to tell the truth for the right reasons, Wilde didn't mind the threat of further punishment being the deciding factor. That was their purpose after all. 

"Six! Well, I'm shocked you are still able to walk!" Wilde replied a tad bit sarcastically. He followed that up with a look that indicated Lowe should know better. 

For his part, Lowe lowered his gaze and grimaced. 

"Yes, well…," Lowe mumbled. 

"Are you quite finished embellishing now?" Wilde asked him in that same indulgent tone. "I do have paperwork to get back to you know," he added with a raised brow. 

Lowe latched onto that throw away comment like a drowning man to a life ring.  

"Oh! Of course! You are busy and this is a bad time. I'll just see myself out…," Lowe said quickly, and made to walk past Wilde and to the locked door. 

Wilde's large hand wrapping around his upper arm stopped him in his tracks. 

"Good try…" 

Chapter Text

Wilde pulled on Lowe's arm to force him back a few steps. He kept his grip on him as he turned away from the bed and sat down on the edge of it. 

"Mister Wilde, this really isn't necessary!" Lowe told him, the desperation in his voice obvious as he leaned over awkwardly due to Wilde's grip on his arm. 

"According to you, this is never necessary," Wilde countered as he looked up at his young officer. "Now, are you going to put yourself across my lap or must I put you there myself?" 

Lowe's eyes were wide, and his lips were parted as if preparing themselves for a lengthy debate. 

"But, but Mister Lightoller already caned me!" Lowe reminded him again, trying one last time to persuade him not to go through with this. 

Wilde had to give him credit. He was not one to give up, even when there was no hope in his favor. 

"Suit yourself then," Wilde replied, before yanking firmly on Lowe's right arm. 

Already bent slightly over, it didn't take much to topple the younger man's balance. Lowe had tried to brace a hand against Wilde's thigh as he was pulled down, but Wilde kept pulling, and the braced hand slipped off. Only Wilde's strong arm placed purposefully under Lowe's stomach kept the other officer from a hard landing across his lap. Still, Lowe let out a grunt as his stomach came in contact with Wilde's hard thighs. Wilde could feel a hand grab frantically at his left ankle, and he suspected Lowe's other hand had braced itself against the carpet. Lowe's polished shoes came up off the floor briefly as his body reacted to the fall, but they soon enough fell back down, and Wilde noticed Lowe tried to find purchase with his toes. 

"No! You can't do this!" Lowe cried over his shoulder as he immediately began struggling. 

Wilde realized Lowe wasn't going to give him the chance to put him in a more comfortable position, so he quickly slipped his supporting arm out from under Lowe and clamped it down over his back and around his side, his large hand pressing into the right side of Lowe's stomach in a secure hold. Wilde would have preferred to hoist Lowe's upper body onto the bed so it would be supported by it and not by his hands braced against the floor, but the younger man had begun wriggling like an eel the moment the shock of being pulled across Wilde's knee had subsided. 

"No! Let me up! Let me up this instant!" he heard Lowe demand. 

"Lad, I'm beginning to think you have a hearing problem," Wilde grunted as he held his officer down. "Didn't I just tell you to mind how you speak to me?" 

"You can't do this! Not after I've already…after Mister Lightoller…oh damn it all! This just isn't fair!" Lowe practically wailed. 

Wilde did finally allow a smile at that outburst. How often had he heard that from his own children? He was actually pleased that Lowe was feeling more inclined to express himself in such a situation, as it was proof he was becoming more familiar with Wilde, more trusting. The Harold Lowe of just two weeks ago would have remained as stoic and silent as a statue, giving nothing away if he could help it. Still not quite part of the deck crew, still the outsider. He was of course, part of their crew that is, even if he hadn't believed it at the time, but his willingness to speak up now was a step in the right direction. He was opening himself up more, even if it was just to complain, and Wilde was pleased to see such progress. He also thought he understood what Lowe meant though, why he kept bringing up the fact Lightoller had caned him, why he thought being punished again was unfair. He clearly felt as if he had already been punished for his misdeed, and that this spanking was superfluous, more punishment for the same crime. 

"I'm not punishing you for the same reason Lightoller did, you know that," Wilde chided him as he looked down at the back of Lowe's head. "Or you would if you hadn't been suddenly struck by this unfortunate hearing problem. I am spanking you for disobeying me, specifically my orders to obey another officer when they give you a lawful order, and for not listening when I told you to leave Mister Lightoller alone. So fuss all you like, you are getting this spanking and no amount of squirming or arguing will get you out of it. You should know that by now too," Wilde scolded firmly. 

"I am not fussing!" Lowe fussed, stomping the toes of both shoes into the floor. 

Wilde almost burst into laughter at that! As it was, he had turn his head away from Lowe and focus on securing his grip, least the younger officer twist around to catch a glimpse of his face and the smile Wilde just couldn't hold back. Despite Lowe's claim, he was indeed fussing. Oh, Wilde could understand the reason why the proud young Welshman wouldn't take too kindly to being described in such a way, but he was being fussy. He was complaining more than really fighting him on this spanking. Wilde had had Lowe over his lap before, where the younger man had fought against him quite vigorously, forcing Wilde to use more force to keep him in place. It really wasn't an issue for Wilde, even if Lowe where to explode over his lap like a cat tossed into a bathtub. His superior strength and bulk meant that Harry would be staying over his lap, and he would accomplish nothing more than tiring himself out and walking away with a sorer behind than he would have. 

Not that Lowe was really fighting him here. Like Wilde had said, Lowe was fussing. He was complaining, he was moving, he was trying to convince Wilde to stop, but he wasn't really fighting him. That also pleased Wilde. It was just another example to him that Lowe was becoming more comfortable around him. Just a few weeks ago Lowe would have been as stiff as a board across his lap, not daring to make a sound least it might lead to Wilde thinking him weak, unable to take a simple spanking. But Lowe was slowly becoming more vocal, more willing to voice his distress while over Wilde's knee, and that hinted to Wilde that the younger man wasn't quite so worried about losing his Chief Officer's regard as he had before. 

Good. It would take more than complaining about getting his arse thrashed for him to lose Wilde's regard at this point, if at all. There was something about this young officer that intrigued him, and Wilde saw great potential in him. But the lad was so damnably reckless and hot headed to the point that Wilde wasn't sure how he even survived to adulthood, let alone made it as an officer onboard Titanic's maiden voyage. He was intriguing all right, and Wilde had no intention of leaving this tantalizing mystery unsolved. 

All of these thoughts flashed through his mind in just seconds, but he quickly pushed them aside for now. He had a lesson to teach, and Lowe's fussing wasn't getting any less. 

"Boyo, you and I have differing definitions on fussing then, as that is exactly what you are doing. Here now, just settle down and stop this squirming!" Wilde chided him as he used his restraining arm to pull Lowe's torso closer to his own stomach, tucking the younger man neatly against him. He snagged the hem of Lowe's jacket and pulled it up and away from the younger man's backside, tucking it under his arm to keep it out of the way. Lowe felt all of this, and it must have spurred him to double his efforts. 

"Let me up!" Lowe demanded again, trying to maneuver his upper body up enough to hopefully find some leverage to push himself off Wilde's lap.  

He was clearly finding it difficult, if the hand repeatedly sliding down Wilde's left leg was any indication. Lowe was bracing his right hand on it, but his grip kept slipping, causing him to flop back into position. Wilde wondered how long it would take him to overcome his great annoyance and just grab onto the fabric of his trousers rather than trying to brace himself against Wilde's calf. 

"And for the last time, I am not fussing! You are just being unreasonable! I've already told you that Mister Lightoller has caned me! Why must you sp…punish me as well?!" Lowe asked him, his voice slightly strained as he continued to try and prop himself up. "Please, Mister Wilde, can't we discuss this as officers?" he pleaded. 

"If we discussed this as officers, you'd be standing in front of the captain right now with your walking papers in hand," Wilde helpfully pointed out. "Is that what you really want?" he added, already knowing the answer. 

He felt Lowe pause in his struggles as that reality was pointed out to him. He knew it to be true. 

"Well, I-I meant just between you and I," he amended. 

"That is exactly what we are doing, lad," Wilde told him. "This is how you and I discuss your misdeeds. I thought I had made that very clear to you," he said wryly. 

Lowe remained silent then, and Wilde could feel him tense up in stubborn denial to what he knew to be true. Wilde pictured the look that must be adorning the younger man's face, and he imagined those expressive eyebrows angled down, lips pressed into a grimace, and his dark eyes glaring twin holes into the carpet. His silence didn’t last long, however. It never did. 

"But…but Mister Lightoller…," 

"Why do you keep bringing him up?" Wilde asked him in a slightly exasperated tone.  

"You don't seem to understand," Lowe began shifting over Wilde's lap. "He's already caned me!" He repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time. 

"I understand that fact perfectly," Wilde lightly scolded. "Why should that matter?" 

He heard Lowe let out a frustrated breath, loud and full of impatience. 

"Then there is no need for you to punish me again!" he called out over his shoulder. That declaration must have lit another fire under him, as his struggles intensified. "Now let me up! Let me up, I say!" he demanded. 

Time to nip this tantrum in the bud. 

Wilde ignored Lowe's struggles and turned his gaze to the seat of Lowe's trousers, perched so perfectly over his right knee, despite all of Lowe's efforts. Without a word, he raised his right hand, flattened it, then brought it down sharply across the direct center of that seat. The sound was loud, testifying to the force Wilde had used. Lowe's reaction was another. The lad immediately tensed over his knee, ceasing all movement for just a split second, then his whole body jerked as if he had just received a biting shock, which in a way, he had. His feet had come off the floor momentarily and had fallen back with an audible thump. 

"OH!" he cried out in surprise. 

"Listen up, boyo," Wilde growled.  

He felt a twinge of satisfaction run through him as he watched the younger man try to turn his head to the right to look at him. He couldn't quite manage it of course, not at such a downward angle and with Wilde's tight grip restricting his movements, but Wilde could see the side of his face, and the expression he held now was devoid of any defiance or resistance. No, his expression now was one of worried surprise, of caution. Wilde pressed his advantage and leaned a little of his weight onto Lowe's back, forcing Lowe to feel just a fraction of his bulk to serve as a reminder that Wilde had him undeniably pinned. 

"You are not dealing with Mister Lightoller now…," he trailed off, letting that sink in. 

That was one thing Wilde wanted Lowe to remember, if nothing else. All of the other officers deserved respect when spoken to, but Wilde was different. On another level, as it were. This little pup could bare his teeth and yip all he wanted, but if he did so with Wilde, then he would get nipped, good and hard. Lowe must have understood this on some level, as he lowered his head slightly and gave it a nervous shake. 

"N-no, sir," he stammered, his hand on Wilde's ankle tightening in reflex. 

"All right then, now that we have established that, let us clear up another matter," Wilde began sternly, still leaning over Lowe and angling his head down towards the younger man's so there would be no room later for a misunderstanding. "You seem to not understand why I have you over my knee right now."  

Lowe opened his mouth to respond, but Wilde continued. Sometimes it was just best to save the younger man from himself. 

"I have told you, twice now, exactly why I have turned you over my knee and am about to smack your arse for you. Yet you keep bringing up Mister Lightoller caning you, as if that should mean something to me. This won't be the first time you've been punished twice in the same day. I seem to recall a couple of those had been one right after the other in fact, so using that as some sort of argument as to why I shouldn't punish you now, doesn't make sense to me. Which leads me to believe, that isn't why you are making that argument. Not entirely anyway. Seems to me, you keep ignoring what I am saying, and instead have latched onto the idea that I am punishing you for the very same thing Mister Lightoller just had, and you find that exceedingly unfair. Is that it?" Wilde asked him. 

Again, Lowe was speechless for a moment. Wilde suspected it had something to do with him being surprised that Wilde had pegged his thoughts so accurately. Or perhaps he hadn't quite understood his own argument until Wilde had made it for him. Either way, it was the truth, and Wilde could see that truth on Lowe's face. At least the small sliver he could see anyway. The younger man's eyes were searching again, and he was working his bottom lip between his teeth. The sight immediately instigated an urge in Wilde to order him to spit that lip out, but Lowe did so on his own before he could. 

"It is unfair," Lowe finally replied, his voice taking on a more sullen tone. "You are punishing me for the same thing, are you not?"  

"For the third time, no. I am not," Wilde enunciated. "I will tell you again, but you had better listen this time, understand?" he said firmly. 

Lowe nodded his head meekly. 

"Yes, sir." 

"All right then," Wilde began, shifting his grip on Lowe and wrapping his right hand comfortably around the younger man's right hip, close to his lower back, resting it for now. It was important to him that Lowe understand why he was getting this spanking. It was important that Lowe always understood. "All those childish antics you subjected Miser Lightoller to, the snide remarks, giving him the silent treatment, dawdling on errands he gave you, and disobeying an order then speaking so disrespectfully after, are what he caned you for. Do you agree so far?" 

Lowe reluctantly nodded his head once again. 

"Yes, sir." 

"Well, that is not why I am about to punish you." Wilde said sternly. "Now this is the part I want you to listen properly to, so clear out your ears. I am punishing you for two reasons. Reason number one," Wilde said, patting Lowe's hip once for emphasis. "I told you to lay off this behavior towards Mister Lightoller, to stop it altogether. Did you?" 

He could practically feel Lowe cringing against him as he contemplated his response to that question. 

"Well…," Lowe began hesitantly. 

"No well about it!" Wilde barked, causing the younger man to jump over his lap. "Yes or no, Mister Lowe!" 

"Yes, sir! I mean, no , sir! I didn't!" Lowe quickly capitulated, shaking his head in the negative. 

"You most certainly did not," Wilde agreed. "So that is reason number one. You disobeyed me. Now, for reason number two," Wilde continued. He patted Lowe's hip twice this time. "I implemented a new rule with you, one that I made very clear to you. If you are punished by another officer, you will be punished again by me. My orders to you were to follow their orders, was it not?" 

Lowe shook his head again, but Wilde didn't give him the chance to argue. 

"And in disobeying Mister Lightoller today, resulting in him to having to punish you, has you disobeying me…again," Wilde explained sternly. 

"No, wait, sir!" Lowe tried to crane his head around again. He made a better effort this time, and they made brief eye contact. "I hadn't meant to…," 

"And not a few moments before…," Wilde continued, talking over the younger man. "…you yourself admitted that your behavior today fell under the jurisdiction of this new rule. So tell me, wherein exactly lies your confusion as to why I am about to spank you, and why Lightoller caning you means I shouldn't punish you now? That fact all but assures that I should be punishing you, wouldn't you agree?," Wilde pointed out logically. 

Lowe huffed in defeated frustration that Wilde could feel through every contact of their bodies. This conversation wasn't going how Lowe had expected it to, and it was obvious the lad was not happy about it. 

"Would it matter if I didn't?" Lowe mumbled miserably, turning his head away from Wilde and hanging it. 

"Yes, it would," Wilde said firmly. He patted Lowe's hip again to regain his attention. "I'm not asking if you really agree here, lad. I'm asking you if you understand. I will always be fair to you, Harry, even when you don't think I am. You will always know why you are being punished. I give you my word on that," he finished seriously. 

Lowe sighed heavily again. He lifted his head up to look forward, one hand braced on the floor, the other wrapped around Wilde's ankle, chewing on his answer, Wilde suspected. He must have been able to finally swallow it as he responded with a reluctant, "yes, sir." 

Wilde risked a smile then, knowing Lowe wouldn't be able to see it. 

"Good lad," he praised. "Then just so we are both clear, I want you to tell me why I am about to spank you," he said calmly, knowing this would spur a response from the younger officer. Lowe once again, did not disappoint. 

He let out a groan of frustration that Wilde suspected could have been heard all the way on the bridge. 

"Oh please, Mister Wilde," he begged, shifting restlessly across Wilde's lap. 

"Answer me now," Wilde ordered, injecting more authority into his tone. They had dallied long enough, and it was time they got down to business. "Why am I about to spank you?" he asked again. 

"I-I disobeyed you," Lowe reluctantly admitted. "I-I didn't stop antagonizing Mister Lightoller when you had told me to, and…and I was punished by him." 

Wilde could tell it cost the younger officer greatly to say those words. He felt that zing of pride again. 

"And when you are punished by another officer…?" Wilde prompted. 

"Must you have me say it…?" Lowe mumbled dejectedly, embarrassment coloring his tone and most likely his face as well. 

"Harry…," Wilde said simply, letting the warning in his tone say more than his words. 

"Yes, all right," Lowe snapped a little peevishly. "I get punished by you…" The added on 'are you happy now?' was not said, but was clearly implied. 

Wilde couldn't help shaking his head at the lad. 

No matter how many times he reminded Lowe of his temper, the lad still let it control him far too often. Even while over Wilde's knee! He was getting better at it, though incrementally, and Wilde would take that little progress over none. Just like convincing the younger officer to be truthful, this was also just another thing they would just have to continue working on. 

In response, Wilde slapped his hand down hard. 

"Ah!" Lowe jerked over his knee, head snapping up in surprise, though what he had to be surprised about was beyond Wilde. 

"Mind your tone when speaking to me, boyo. I will not be reminding you again," Wilde growled at him. 

"Oh no, I-I apologize, sir! I hadn't meant…," Lowe tried to explain. 

"Just never you mind with an explanation. I don't want excuses, I want obedience, understand?" Wilde pressed, his tone stern and unyielding. 

"Yes, sir," Lowe respectfully replied, his body tense over Wilde's lap. 

"Good. Now then…," he began as he shifted his gaze away from Lowe's bowed head to the tautly stretched seat of his uniform trousers. He tightened his grip around the younger man, feeling him take a deep breath as he no doubt anticipated what was coming next. "You know why we are both here, and why you are being punished, so I see no more point in wasting time, do you?" he asked, though Lowe's answer would not really matter. 

He felt Lowe shift against him again and then inhale in preparation to respond to him, but the palm of Wilde's hand smacking down onto a firm cheek stole whatever words he had been about to say and replaced them with a sound of exclamation. 

"Ow!" Lowe cried out, once more jerking over Wilde's knee as if he had no idea his rear was to be smacked while in this position. 

Wilde shook his head again at such a thought but decided to just go on and keep smacking. Maybe a steady rhythm of swats would finally convince Lowe that he was indeed getting this spanking. He raised his hand again and smacked the other cheek, the sound just as sharp as the swat must have felt. 

"Please, Mister Wilde!" he heard Lowe beg. "This really is cruel and unusual punishment!" he tossed over his shoulder as he tried again to meet Wilde's eyes.  

"This is neither cruel, nor unusual, especially for you," Wilde reasonably pointed out, bringing his hand down repeatedly in a steady pattern.  

"It is! It is!" Lowe countered, stamping the toe of one shoe into the carpet in frustration. "Ow! Oh! I am far too sore for such barbaric treatment!" he declared, twisting the fingers of his right hand into the fabric at Wilde's ankle.  

Wilde could feel the material tightening around his lower leg as Harry twisted it, but he didn't mind. Let the lad pull at it all he wanted. 

He chuffed in amusement, even as he slapped his hand down firmly over and over again against Lowe's apparently bruised and battered behind. Barbaric treatment, bah! What a little fibber he was. Wilde knew for a fact that Lightoller had not gone hard on him, and that whatever sting six whacks of that nursery cane had produced, would have already faded in the intervening two hours from then to now. Wilde doubted he even had any marks of the cane left on him, if he had had any at all. Lowe was just using that as an excuse to hopefully convince Wilde to not continue with this spanking. It wouldn't work, of course. He was reasonably sure that Harry knew that as well, but the lad simply wasn't one to give up.  

"Mister Wilde? Did you hear me?" he heard Lowe ask him. "I said I was too sore!" 

Wilde did chuckle then. 

"Yes, yes, I heard you," he replied, popping his hand down low into the plumpest part of Lowe's buttocks, making the younger man gasp and one leg twitch straight behind him.  

The fact that Lowe could so easily hold a conversation with him and articulate his thoughts so well instead of devolving into nothing more than grunts and gasps of pain, was just another indication that Lowe wasn't sore at all. Well, at least for now. 

"Ow! Then would you please stop?" Lowe added as Wilde continued to spank him. He drummed his shoes into the floor in what Wilde could only describe as a restrained tantrum. 

"No," Wilde stated firmly, focusing his next swats right on the crease where buttock met thigh. Lowe yelped and both feet came off the floor momentarily before dropping back to the carpet with a muffled thud. "You've earned this spanking, Mister Lowe. We went over that extensively," Wilde reminded him, slapping him sharply. "You earned punishment from another officer and so you have earned punishment from me. And that is exactly what you will get. You will learn I mean what I say, boyo. And carrying on like you are bruised black and blue from a little nursery cane is nothing more than a childish attempt to evade the consequences of your actions. Why, how you have behaved this whole day could be described as…as downright naughty!" 

Wilde wasn't sure why he had chosen that word, but it just seemed to fit so perfectly. Lowe's actions had reminded him of nothing more than a child acting out. Harry was no child of course, he was a grown man, an officer, but he had acted more like a child, one that had thought itself injured in some way by another party, had taken it upon itself to make that party's life a living hell. All those little things Lightoller had told him about, as well as revealed by Harry himself, would have been worthy of the actions of his own little Harry back home at his sister's. And now, his insistence that he was far too sore for yet more punishment, was nothing more than what Wilde had told Lowe it was. A childish attempt to avoid the very real and earned consequences of his own actions. Lowe had been warned about his behavior, yet he had ignored those warnings. He had also been warned about what would happen if he continued. He also ignored that. He could have acted with maturity and grace, and discussed his apparent grievances with Lightoller like men, like officers, yet he had chosen to essentially torture Lightoller and drive him up the bloody wall in retribution. All childish antics. He had crossed the line when he had disobeyed, but Lightoller had taken care of that. Now it was up to Wilde to take care of the rest of it. 

That word appeared to have had an effect on Lowe as well. As Wilde continued to swat him, he felt Lowe tense up and go still, then cringe, almost as if he was trying to make himself smaller and disappear. Wilde had no doubt that if he looked at the young Welshman's face, it would be flaming red in embarrassment. Lowe was a proud man, Wilde had figured that much out, and at his age and his station, having his actions referred to as 'naughty,' was probably one of the most humiliating things to bear. It wasn't Wilde's intention to humiliate his young officer, but his observation was truthful, and he was not a man to mince words. If it was difficult for Lowe to hear, then so be it. Perhaps it would serve as another incentive to behave in the manner befitting his age and position. 

When Lowe spoke next, it was clear he was trying to sound more like the officer he was. 

"Please, sir. I'm..ouch! I'm sorry for how I behaved. It won't…it won't happen again." While more professional, his tone still held a note of strain in it. Whether from the spanking itself or having to swallow his pride, Wilde wasn't sure. 

"It had better not happen again," Wilde warned him as he smacked his hand down firmly. "You will treat your fellow officers with respect from here on out like you should have from the very beginning. Next time you have a grievance, you sort it out properly with that man, or you come to me. Understand?" Wilde asked him, popping his hand down repeatedly. 

"Yes! I understand!" Lowe quickly replied, his feet back to drumming on the carpet as the sting in his hindquarters continued to grow. The hand on Wilde's trousers was twisting the fabric so tight that Wilde was waiting to hear a seam rip. 

He was pleased though to see how quickly Lowe seemed to have gone from fighting this spanking, to accepting it and just waiting for it to be over. That was good, as it meant Wilde needn't have to drag this out. He hadn't meant for this to be a long or harsh spanking at all anyway. His intention had been for this to be more of a token one, a reinforcing of the lesson Lightoller had already taught him, and to also show Lowe that Wilde was a man of his word and would follow through with what he said. He had told Lowe if he were to be punished by another officer, then he would be punished by him, and Wilde had begun to see that the lad was in clear need of some consistency. Well, Wilde could provide that for him, even if it came in a form the young officer did not like. Besides, he wasn't cross with the lad, not really. Oh, he was a little miffed at his behavior and his ignoring of his warnings to stop, but Wilde really was pleased at how this whole fiasco had turned out. Lowe and Lightoller had come to a head, but they had worked it out between them without Wilde's or anyone else's direct intervention. That was a testament to both of their characters, as that was not an easy or simple thing to do. Wilde and Murdoch had only provided advice. It took the other two men to actually work this out. 

And now it seemed as if Lowe had accepted what he had done was wrong, and also the consequences of those actions, so it looked like Wilde could finish this up. He rained down several sharp smacks, low on Harry's buttocks, determined to leave a good sting for at least a little while. Lowe squirmed over his lap, sucking in breaths only to let them out in pained gasps. 

"Am I going to have to repeat this lesson again?" Wilde asked him sternly as he slapped his hand down. 

"No! No, sir!" Lowe rapidly answered, trying to push himself up enough to look behind him at Wilde. "I promise, sir! You won't!" 

Wilde had to shake his head at that. Lowe always promised the sun and the moon during a thrashing. He had no doubt that Lowe truly meant it at the time, but once he was let up and the sting and embarrassment finally faded, Lowe would find himself creeping back towards some sort of mischief or another, pulled by some unseen hand that was apparently stronger than Wilde's. 

For now… 

"You just remember this then and see that you do," Wilde ordered. He brought his hand down one last time, low, right in the middle, catching both cheeks. The muffled clap was loud, and Lowe's yelp was even louder, both feet jerking out behind him. "All right, I think we are done." 

Wilde immediately loosened his hold around Lowe's middle but kept his hand on Lowe's side as he pulled down the younger man’s duty coat from where he had bunched up at the small of his back. He smoothed it gently back into place, ignoring the way Lowe twitched as his hand touched his rear.  

"When you are ready…," Wilde began, meaning to let Lowe know that he didn't have to stand right away if he needed a moment, but Lowe was apparently past being ready. 

The younger officer wasted no time in trying to push himself up and off Wilde's lap. He was in such a haste that his right hand slipped off Wilde's thigh and he flopped back down over his lap with a grunt, his feet flying up behind him as they flailed for balance. 

"Easy there! Easy!" Wilde quickly intervened, using his hold on the younger man to force him to move slower.  

"I'm sorry…," Lowe answered, embarrassed. He tried again. 

"No need to be sorry, boyo. Let me help you," Wilde said kindly as he slipped his hand from across Lowe's back to under his chest. He wrapped his other hand around Lowe's hip. "Come on, lad. Easy does it," he quietly encouraged.  

With Wilde's guidance, Lowe was able to lift himself up off Wilde's lap and push himself to his feet. Wilde went with him, of course, to steady him. He never could tell when Lowe might make himself lightheaded while hanging over his knee, and would need a steadying hand when he was vertical again. He kept his hand on Lowe's left arm for a moment, just in case. When he was sure Lowe was all right, he removed his hand to give the lad the space he might need to pull himself together after such an embarrassing occurrence. 

"All right there, lad?" Wilde asked him softly, his blue eyes taking in Lowe's flushed cheeks and downcast eyes. 

"Yes, yes, I'm all right," Lowe replied automatically.  

And thankfully he did look all right. Terribly embarrassed, a little sheepish maybe, most definitely a tad bit sore, but overall, perfectly all right. Wilde saw him look up at him briefly before dropping his eyes back to the floor, dipping his head so they would be covered by the brim of his cap he had somehow managed to keep on his head. His hands seemed to move on their own accord, and they slipped back behind him to begin rubbing at his bottom. Wilde had to school his features to keep from smiling at the sight and the rueful grimace Lowe adopted as he tried to rub out the mild sting Wilde had put there. 

"Oh…," he moaned, blushing pink a moment later as he remembered Wilde was watching him.  

He ducked his head again, hiding under his brim, as he reluctantly dropped his hands to his sides. They twitched nervously, as if he did not know what to do with them. He never did after a spanking. Harry was always so utterly out of his depth when let up from someone’s lap. He just didn't know what to do with himself, or what to say, or if he should stay, or should he leave. Wilde understood all of that, just by looking at him, and he quickly stepped in to offer the guidance Lowe was so desperately in need of at the moment. 

"There now, Mister Lowe. The matter is settled between us," Wilde stated with calm authority. "I will assume you have learned your lesson like you have told me you have, and I will say no more about it." He watched as Lowe opened his mouth to answer him, but he quickly held up a finger to silence him. Lowe closed his mouth and looked at him questioningly. "After, I say one last thing," Wilde added. 

A look of apprehension came over Lowe's face then, but he respectfully nodded his acceptance and bravely waited for Wilde to continue.  

"Of course, sir." 

The sight made Wilde want to smile, and this time he didn't try to hide it. His stern countenance softened into one of fond familiarity, something that was happening more and more around this young officer. His blue eyes gazed into brown warmly. 

"I just wanted to say, I'm proud of what you did today, Harry," he said simply. 

Whatever Lowe had expected him to say, it clearly wasn't that. His look of apprehension morphed into one of pure confusion. 

"Sir?" he asked him hesitatingly. 

Wilde chuckled. 

"Oh, I can understand your confusion. Especially after what just transpired and all that I've said about it," Wilde admitted good naturedly. "I guess I should have been more specific. What I mean is, I'm proud of how you and Lightoller came to an understanding. I know that can be difficult. It's always harder to mend fences than it is to break them. I've seen many a man fail at such a seemingly simple task. You didn't." He gave Lowe an appraising look. "There is more to you than that temper of yours. I knew that from the moment you came on board. You are a good man. You have your faults, just like the rest of us, but you do try to be better. I really am pleased with how this all turned out, and I just wanted you to know that," he finished with another small smile. 

He wasn't sure why he felt the need to tell Lowe this, but he did.  

Lowe, for his part, seemed to have been struck dumb by Wilde's admission. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open on unspoken words. Wilde watched as he dropped his gaze, hiding his eyes again under his cap as he digested what Wilde had said. He shifted on the spot and he pulled his hands forward, as if he meant to grab his wrist, but he aborted that movement and let them fall back to his sides. It was clear to Wilde that he was affected to some degree by his words, and it made him a little troubled to see simple praise leave the younger officer floundering so. Was praise such a rarity to him? Hadn’t his father ever done so?  

Lowe must have gathered his thoughts enough that he could finally voice some of them, and he raised his head to meet Wilde's gaze. 

"Thank you for saying so, though I don't feel as if I deserve such praise." He quickly hurried to continue, rightly assuming Wilde would rebut that. "But I do appreciate that you said it anyway," he added, holding up his hands to stall Wilde's reply. "You were right, sir. I shouldn't have let it get so far, or really to have brought it that far myself. I should have listened to you, and more importantly, I should have had my talk with Mister Lightoller long before he decided to use that bloody cane," he explained ruefully, one hand going back to rub at his now re-sore behind. "It was such a mess. I should have…," 

"Harry?" Wilde interrupted him, lifting his head and brows expectedly. 

Lowe paused and looked up at him. 

"Y-yes?" 

"No more apologizing. What's done is done, and it is in the past. You've been punished already. No need for you to keep doing so to yourself. Let us say no more about it," Wilde finished kindly. 

Lowe looked relieved. 

"Yes, thank you, sir," he replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Wilde smiled back, then held his hand out. 

"You are welcome. Now hand me your hat," he ordered. 

Once again, Lowe was struck momentarily dumb by such a request. 

"M-my hat, sir?" he asked him, even as a hand obediently went up and gripped the brim with his slender fingers. 

"Yes, Harry. Your hat," Wilde repeated indulgently, enjoying the little bit of mystery he was creating. He watched as Lowe doffed his cap, and after a moment of hesitation, he held it out to him. Wilde ignored the length of his revealed curls. This time. "Thank you," he said as he took it. "Now, you can take your coat off if you want or leave it on. It's no concern of mine. But you might be more comfortable if you do take it off," he added as he turned away from Lowe and walked over to the door and the hooks against the wall. 

"My coat? Mister Wilde, I'm not sure I understand…," he heard him say as he placed Lowe's cap on the hook next to his. 

Wilde could understand. Normally he would be giving such orders before a spanking, not after.  

"Lad, I already told you I have a lot of paperwork to get through, didn't I?" he asked him as he turned back from the door. 

"Well, yes…but I don't see…," Lowe replied, holding out one hand as if to illustrate his confusion. 

"Then I need to concentrate. I can do that better with you taking a much needed rest in my bunk," Wilde explained.  

He walked right past Lowe and his shocked expression, and pulled out his desk chair. Without another word, he sat down and started shuffling papers. He could practically feel Lowe's gaze on him, and he imagined the lad looking from him to the door, to the bed, then back to him. Wilde smiled to himself, knowing Lowe wouldn't be able to see it.  

"You, you want me to stay?" he heard Lowe ask him, tone full of uncertainty. "Oh...but I'm fine, sir. I don't need…," 

"Take the time to rest or just sit there and stare at the ceiling. It's all the same to me. But either way, you are not leaving here until I have finished my paperwork, understand?" he asked sternly. 

"Oh, ah…yes, sir," he heard Lowe say. 

Thankfully, the lad's posterior was sufficiently smarting at this time to curb any more arguments. Wilde listened as after another moment of hesitation, Lowe began unbuttoning his coat. Wilde purposefully put pen to paper as he listened to the rustling of clothes. He didn't turn around when he heard Lowe walk closer and towards the bed. 

"Shoes," Wilde said, signing his name on the check list he was going over. 

"Yes, sir," came the sheepish reply. 

The sound of leather shoes hitting the carpet one by one followed, then the sound of the mattress creaking as Lowe lowered himself into it. Then there was silence for several minutes, with only the sound of Wilde's pen scratching along the paper filling the cabin. He was wondering if Lowe was trying to decide what to do. Would he lie down, or would he just sit there? Wilde was starting to think he might need to give the lad another gentle nudge, when he heard a gusty sigh, then more rustling as Lowe finally laid himself down. 

Pleased, Wilde set down his pen and risked a look towards his bed and the occupant upon it out of the corner of his eye. Lowe was lying on his back, hands clasped across his stomach, and he was indeed staring at the ceiling. Wilde couldn't blame him. He must have a lot to think about right now. Maybe Wilde could do a little more to make him feel more comfortable? He reached into a drawer and pulled out his pipe and pouch of tobacco. He filled it with his normal efficiency, then reached into his waistcoat pocket for his matches. He set flame to leaf, and after a few puffs, the sweet, spicy smell of his favorite tobacco began to fill his cabin. With that done, Wilde clamped the stem in his teeth and went back to his paperwork. 

It was hard to keep his mind on it. He had a lot to think about as well. He found himself speculating on Lowe's past. He was getting more and more glimpses into this young officer's person, but each new clue only led to more questions. He recalled the way Lowe had looked at him after he had praised him, like he wasn't used to it. Was he not used to it, or did he not believe himself worthy of praise, even such a small amount? He had said he didn’t feel it deserved, but was it because he truly believed that, or was it just because Wilde had given it to him? Would he have reacted the same if Murdoch had said it? There were so many questions, and Wilde held no answers. Whatever the reason, that was partially why Wilde had insisted Lowe stay longer in his cabin. Oh, he had said it was because he needed to concentrate, and keeping Lowe close meant keeping him out of trouble, but that really wasn't why. He always tried to keep Lowe close after a punishment. If the lad had self-worth issues, or doubted Wilde's genuine growing friendship towards him, then sending him out immediately after giving him a thrashing seemed so callous to him. So impersonable. Like Lowe's opinion did not matter.  

But it did matter. It mattered to Wilde. 

So he kept him close, ready to offer words of wisdom or just his companionship if Lowe were to find himself floundering after. It's what any good Chief Officer would do… 

Wasn't it? 

Wilde's thoughts eventually returned to his official paperwork that he really did need to finish, and he soon became engrossed in it, paying it the sort of attention he should have from the very beginning. Lowe never said another word. They both stayed that way, in silence, in their own thoughts, Wilde's tobacco smoke comforting them both, until Wilde finally heard Lowe's breathing change. He set down his pen and dared a quick glance over towards his own bed. Lowe was still on his back, but his hands had unclasped and one arm lay half dangling off the side of the mattress. His face was relaxed, and his breaths were deep and even.  

He was fast asleep. 

Wilde smiled around the stem of his pipe. He watched a moment longer, then shook his head fondly and picked up his pen once again.