AUTHOR'S NOTE : After two years I've finally updated! To those who have been asking for updates I'm so sorry it took this long. I hope it was worth the wait. Also, expect a title change in the near future as I'm still not happy with it, ha. Enjoy the madness!

Again, Kristen belongs to sabresrthebest.

CHAPTER TWENTY

"You are not using me as an example in your book so that's that!"

"But you are my star subject! You will be the one to sell the books and make me rich and renowned!"

Perkis rolled his eyes as he continued to steer the ship, trying to pay as little attention as possible to the bickering officers. It didn't help that Lightoller had a strong booming voice when he shouted, or that the American accent Boxhall spoke in as Doctor Rosenbaum stuck out like a sore thumb. He cared for their antics but their arguing? Not so much.

Lightoller barked, "I won't paint the artwork for your book until you promise that I won't be in it!"

"I'm going to let you cool off. I think your mind just needs to process this opportunity," Boxhall told him as he walked out the wheelhouse and onto the officer's promenade where he could see two women approach the gate to the promenade. "Can I help ye ladies?" He asked as Jock made a reappearance.

"We were hoping to speak with the officer in charge. We have some concerns about a couple of your colleagues," Kristen told him.

"Of course," Boxhall nodded before Violet caught his eye. She seemed familiar but he couldn't quite place her. "Do ye happen to know the names of these men?"

"Officer Moody and another officer gentleman with a moustache," Violet replied politely. "Are you in charge Officer?"

"I am not, however I can take ye to my colleague who is. I'm sure he won't mind me bringing ye to him," He said as he opened the gate. "Please, follow me ladies."

Kristen nodded and smiled, "Certainly Officer. Thank you."

The two women followed him along to the wheelhouse where Lightoller was inspecting the ship's log. He turned around with a confused look when he saw the fourth officer standing with two young women. "Mister Boxhall you know passengers aren't allowed in here," He reminded him coldly as his eyes narrowed into slits.

"Aye but they wanted to speak to ye about Herb and Jim. They've been up to no good again. I dinnae know what, ye have to ask them."

"Yes, thank you Mister Boxhall," Lightoller nodded curtly as his expression softened, but only by a little bit.

Boxhall took one look at Violet before an idea struck him and he rushed from the bridge, leaving both the women in confusion.

"Ignore that," Lightoller groaned as he rubbed his temples. "What did my colleagues do the two of you?"

"They were shouting what seemed like nonsense," Kristen answered as she looked to her friend for confirmation.

Violet tried to hide a smile as she said, "They were running around as though something had spooked them. They ran straight into us."

"Oh not again Herbert!" Lightoller shouted in sheer frustration. "I'm going to wring his neck when I get a hold of him!"

The women quickly took a couple of steps backwards as Kristen insisted, "It was just a concern. Please do not be too harsh on them."

He nodded and wondered, "Have we met before?"

"I don't think we have."

"Ah. Curious."

"Yes …?"

The sound of footsteps thundering towards them made them all turn to watch as Boxhall raced back onto the bridge carrying Lightoller's painting of him as a god. "Yo, I knew it!" He declared gleefully as Big J. "I knew dat hoe was familiar!"

The women took no notice of what was said as they inspected the painting before giggling at Lightoller's self-portrait. "He reminds me of my old horse Chestnut," Kristen whispered to her friend who chortled in response.

Lightoller paled when he saw the resemblance between the goddess in the painting and the woman in front of him. "Excuse me ladies," He began even though he was dreading the answer. "May I have your names please?"

"Kristen Hawthorne."

"Violet McCulloch, sir," Violet replied as she inspected the painting. "Is that me?!"

Lightoller glared at Boxhall as his mind desperately tried to come up of a way to get out of this situation without much damage. Except that he seemed frozen and nothing was formulating in his mind. He could only hope the junior officer would be able to step in and help ...

Meanwhile Pitman and Moody were running along the boat deck as fast as their legs could carry them. Neither of them stopped until they shut themselves into what they were relieved to see was an empty mess hall.

"Quick! In here!" Pitman yelped as he pulled open the door to the pantry and rushed inside.

Moody followed and closed the door behind him. "Now what?" He asked as he fumbled in the darkness. "I can't see!"

"Good then they can't see us!"

He shook his head, "They will when they open the door! We have to hide in here somehow!"

Pitman wrung his hands and danced on the spot in panic. "What do we do?! What do we do?"

Moody racked his brains trying to come up with something which was hard to do with the constant whimpering in the enclosed space. "I've got it!"

"What?!"

"We build a wall of boxes to hide behind!" He announced while getting down on his knees to pull boxes off the pantry shelves and stack them up blindly in front of him. What he didn't realise was that it was a lot harder to do in pitch black than he realised.

Pitman scrambled to help build the rather unsteady wall. His hands kept shaking with fear and boxes kept falling to the floor.

"Ow! That one got my hand!" Moody screeched as he swiftly removed his hand from under a large box.

"Sorry! I'm so so sorry!"

"It's fine," Moody insisted as he gave his hand a shake before continuing to build. When he was satisfied with the height of the wall he announced, "Now we're safe!"

"Uhh … Jimmy?" Pitman asked nervously while shrinking back from the wall. "I think you're on the wrong side of the wall …"

"What?!" He gasped as he staggered backwards and felt the door behind him. "Oh fuuuuck!"

Pitman let out a shriek and cried, "Porky's going to find you and eat you!"

Ripping open a box of crackers Moody shot back, "Not if I eat everything and get so fat that he won't recognise me!"

His colleague shook his head. "That won't work you'll make yourself sick! Oh don't be sick in here! I don't like it when people are sick!"

"I won't be sick," Moody said with a mouthful of crackers and spitting crumbs anywhere.

"But you'll make yourself plump and juicy for him!"

"GET OUT AND LOCK HIM IN!"

At the sound of Porky, Moody spat out the rest of the crackers in his mouth and leapt to his feet. "Herb, I'm so sorry!"

Pitman began to tremble. "Sorry for what? Jimmy!"

"I'm sorry!"

"Were you sick?! Jimmy don't scare me like that!" Pitman whimpered as he too stood up. "What's happening?!"

Before he knew it, light briefly lit up the pantry before it was gone. And so was Moody.

"That was the longest hour of my life," Father Byles remarked as he watched a rather sedate Lowe drink some tea. "Mister Wilde I commend you for being able to deal with this."

"I try to," Wilde lamented as he finished his cup of tea. "Father I can't thank you enough for your help with Mister Lowe."

Byles slowly nodded and advised, "Have a word with Mister Lightoller. Perhaps he doesn't realise that the words he is using is upsetting Mister Lowe."

Wilde couldn't help but grin a little, "Oh I plan to, believe me Father." Putting down his empty cup on the tray he added, "I think it is time Mister Lowe and I troubled you no more."

Lowe looked up at him, "We're going back?"

"Yes. You'll be fine," Wilde assured him. "Father Byles has just spent the last hour explaining that to you. Now believe me when I say it."

Byles smiled kindly at Lowe and told him, "Please knock on my door if you get these thoughts again. I will help you."

"Thank you," Lowe said gratefully while swirling the tea leaves in his cup. "Doctor Rosenbaum promised to help me."

"Alright. Well as long as you seek help when you start to get these thoughts then that is the most important thing."

Wilde got to his feet and smiled at the priest, "Thank you Father, but we must be getting back. Duty calls."

"Yes, of course," Byles nodded as he rose too. "Let me show the two of you out."

Lowe sneakily shoved a couple of biscuits into his jacket pocket before following Wilde out the door and thanking Byles as he did so. He pulled one of the biscuits out his pocket and munched on it happily.

Wilde was silent the journey back to the bridge and was wishing he could have a large brandy after listening to Lowe's paranoid sobbing for the best part of an hour. Of course he knew that Murdoch had a nose like a bloodhound and would eventually sniff out the brandy once the bottle had been opened. it wasn't worth the risk.

Just when he thought everything was starting to go back to some form of normality, he watched as two women rushed from the bridge. He noted that the black haired woman was looking flustered. "Oh what have they done this time?"

Lowe looked back to see the women run inside to first class. However he shrugged it off and removed another biscuit from his pocket to eat.

"Gentlemen, could you explain to me why two women were running from here? Bearing in mind that no passengers should be able to get in here?" Wilde demanded as he stormed into the wheelhouse with Lowe following behind and still eating.

Lightoller held up his painting and spat, "That idiot Boxhall showed this to the women and it scared them!"

"That's the woman with black hair!" Lowe exclaimed in surprise.

Boxhall elbowed Lightoller in the ribs and bellowed, "I'M NO IDIOT, BITCH!"

"Mister Boxhall calm down!" Wilde ordered as he walked forward to grab the painting. "Something else happened for those women to run. Did you invite them here to show off?"

Lightoller shook his head hurried and explained, "They came looking for the officer in charge with concerns about Herb and Jim who have been acting up in first class again! Then a certain someone decides to display my painting and that's when we realise that passenger Violet is the same as painting Violet."

Perkis could only chuckle to himself as he continued to man the wheel. He knew that he was going to have a good story to tell everyone later when he finished his shift.

Wilde thought for a moment. In his head something wasn't adding up. "They were positively fleeing from here. What happened next?"

"Well … I eventually told her the story of the painting from what I was told earlier. And then Joe decided this would be a good time to announce that I must have been stalking her. So they made their excuses and left. So now I'm the one who appears like a moron, and not the others!"

Lowe dropped his biscuit and pointed at Lightoller fearfully. "She's gonna get you, Lights! Watch out!"

Murdoch awoke in his room and immediately let out a great yowl of pain. His head was in agony and everything seemed to hurt. To make matters worse his mouth was dry and the sun was shining and bathing the room in bright light.

"MAKE IT STOP!" He bellowed which he regretted immediately as he grimaced in pain from the volume of his voice.

Moments later Wilde burst into the room and asked, "Will? What happened?"

"This is the worst hangover I've ever experienced," He groaned as he buried his face into his pillow. "Go away."

"I will once I talk to you," Wilde told him. He closed the door behind him and sat down at the desk. "You need to stop drinking. You're one more drinking binge away from losing everything you've worked for. What would your wife think?"

Murdoch sighed at the mention of his wife. Thanks to the alcohol he hadn't given her or much else a second thought. All he wanted was more alcohol.

"I thought so. Now Will, what will it take for you to stay sober?"

"Tell Lights to stop with the fucking painting," He grumbled with his face still in his pillow. "Especially his singing while he paints."

Wilde nodded, relieved that he was willing to work with him. "That I can do. I need to give him a bollocking later myself anyway."

Murdoch lifted his head up to look at him. "And you need to stop dressing up like a woman and putting on makeup. I can tell that you've put rouge on your face, you look like a clown."

Taken aback, the chief officer was ready to give him a bollocking of his own. However he took into consideration the fact that he was cooperating and promised, "I'll do what I can. Now rest. I'll ask a steward to fetch you a glass of water."

Murdoch nodded and let his face drop into his pillow again in order to sleep off the hangover.

Wilde left him to it, wondering if Murdoch truly would give up the drinking for the duration …