Not Every Day

He stood at the deck railing, his hands gripping the white metal as he gazed out to sea. Lonely, I watched him. He stood a few yards away, lost in a world of his own. Perhaps he was lonely too.

You’re not supposed to talk to anyone.

But I never imagined this job would end up making me so helpless. And isolated. I was not part of this man’s world. We were never supposed to meet.

But these were no ordinary circumstances, and I was tired of feeling alone. Maybe a short interaction would be enough. Steadying my jumping heart and bolstering strength in my spine, I rose and stood behind the man.

Then I panicked. I didn’t dare say anything that drew too much attention to why I was there.

I needn’t have worried about speaking. The man heaved a deep sigh and turned around, his elbow catching me in the ribs and his shoe coming down on my foot.

“Ah, forgive me, Miss, I am so deeply sorry!”

His Irish brogue was rich and warm. I let him take my arm as I winced and tried not to gasp from the pain in my side.

“Sorry, it was my fault. I was standing right there and should have said something...I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He stilled with his hand still against my arm. “Ah, an American.”

“Yes.” I massaged my bruised ribs. “Would you mind?”

“Oh, of course.” He gently guided me to the nearest bench under the sun deck above jutting overhead.

The sun already hung low in the sky, not quite touching the water. I felt my heart tremble again, knowing what was to come.

I suddenly felt like the most despicable soul alive. I was aware of the nightmarish events ahead that loomed like the iceberg itself, and I wasn’t going to tell a soul?

I was not allowed to alter history. I was supposed to make sure it continued its course smoothly.

Save history. Lose lives.

Alter history, change the future.

I looked into his eyes and realized with jarring sensation that he was a human being who had really lived and died. Maybe even tonight.

But I couldn’t save him.

This flowed through my head like the icy water rushing up from the bow of the ship. I had to clear the channels in my brain to understand what he was now saying to me.

“This has been your first trip to Ireland?”

“Yes, I came here to...to work.”

His gentle eyes and mouth smiled at me. He sat down beside me. “And what kind of work could take a young lady so far from her home in America to the green shores of our United Kingdom?”

“I’m not at liberty to say,” I said stiffly. I tried to exude regret, but my fears rose as the sun continued sinking. I hadn’t completed my task yet.

He inclined his head and raised his hand. “I see. I won’t pry into your affairs, never fear, madam.”

I was enjoying his kind attention, wishing there wasn’t this barrier of historic proportions between us.

“I may, perhaps, introduce myself at least. My name is Thomas Andrews.”

“Thomas Andrews…” The name skittered along my nerves like a hot wire. I knew that name. This man was the chief designer and shipbuilder for Titanic. He had overseen her construction and architecture. The deck under our feet and steamers over our heads had been born from his brilliant mind.

His eyebrows raised. “Perhaps we met before and I cannot remember?”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry.” I shook my head, trying to tamp down my rising panic. This conversation should not be happening. And yet, awe and excitement were there too, I could feel them. It isn’t every day you get to travel back in time and meet historic heroes. Thomas Andrews had saved many lives this frigid night.

“We haven't met. But your name seems familiar.” I smiled, glad he couldn’t read my mind. From history books and documentaries.

His smile returned. “So you are on your way home, then?”

“Yes.” I looked up at the rosy clouds and glowing orange sunset. “It will be good to be home when this voyage is over.”

My heart sank. More than half of the passengers strolling these decks, eating in the dining halls, sleeping in their staterooms, relaxing in the pool, laughing in the lobby on the steps of the grand central staircase in their fancy evening clothes...would never get home. Their graves would be in the arctic waters below.

The morbidity and sorrow of it all hit me again like a tidal wave. I could feel tears pricking my eyes.

“Are you alright, madam? I realize I don’t know your name.”

I couldn’t lie to him. Not when he was looking at me with such a friendly expression and had been so genuinely kind with me from the moment we'd met.

“Saylor Smith.”

“Saylor Smith,” he repeated, rubbing his chin. “A unique name. But a fair one.”

“Thank you.” I had to bring this conversation to an end, much as I hated to. The ship was getting nearer to her downfall. My mission was not complete. I preferred to disappear before she sank.

I really am a monster.

“You must tell me what you think of the ship,” Mr. Andrews was saying. His voice was heavy with pride and he watched me to gauge my response.

“Titanic?” Oh, she’s…” I stalled. Saying the name of the famous ship sent thrills through me. It’s not every day one has a conversation on board Titanic. The pull of history momentarily drove the coming terror from my mind.

“I think she’s the most impressive ship in her time,” I said carefully, looking up at the towering smokestacks billowing into the darkening clouds above us. I gestured wildly. “No other ship has so many smokestacks, right?”

“I’ll tell you a secret.” He tilted his head toward mine. “The fourth steamer is false. Only three of them serve to function. The last is just for show.” He gave me a conspiratorial grin. “I am pleased you like her.” He sat back and surveyed his surroundings with the satisfied attitude of a man who has accomplished his work well. Yet there was also a softness to his pride, a glow of humility.

I liked Thomas Andrews.

I probably shouldn’t have spoken this long with Thomas Andrews.

“I should go.” I rose. He did too.

“Yes, you have your business to attend to.” He smiled. I smiled back.

I also felt that stab of sadness again when I looked into his compassionate eyes. Unbeknownst to him, he would likely never see another sunrise.

If only I could warn you.

Another feeling, more sickening and cold, gripped me. Guilt. It slithered in my stomach as I gazed up at Thomas Andrews.

Did I really just think I would take a quick hop back in time and not be affected at all? These were real people on this ship. They weren't just some characters on the pages of a history book. Every passenger and crew member aboard was real and breathing as myself today. I was the intruder. I was the one out of place. The knowledge I bore was enough to make me complicit in hundreds of deaths to come.

Seasickness was nothing compared to how I felt.

But I had work to do. I couldn't slow down the clock, even though I could go back in time.

I watched Thomas Andrews walk away as the words of my boss back at the agency drifted back to me.

“Titanic? What’s on Titanic?” I'd asked.

“Blueprints," said my boss, Bryce Mendol, handing me a file. I opened it and scanned the information inside. I'd waited so long for my first job in the field, and I had to force myself to read slowly.

"We need those blueprints before Vincent Farthing gets his hands on them," Bryce continued. "If he does, we lose the designs and the watch. You can imagine the chaos to the timeline if that happens."

“Why not let the ship sink with them on it?” I asked. "It's happened before, right? And we still managed to get the design and create the watch."

“They weren't on the ship before," said Bryce. "My sources had informed me somebody smuggled those watch blueprints on board, along with a letter to the receiver when Titanic reaches America."

"But don't they know the ship will sink?" I tried to keep it all straight in my head.

"The blueprints are on that ship because the smuggler expects to survive. And Vincent knows about them. If nobody else knew, we could let them go. They’d be lost to history and the world forever. But information was uncovered. The smuggler changed things."

I tapped the edge of the folder against my palm. Just hearing Vincent's name sent shivers down my spine, along with a deeper pain I tried to ignore.

The mission was simple, and here I was. Only I hadn’t taken into account the feelings I would incur when aboard the famous ship. It was a tragedy I was now part of. The dream of an era would die.

But that wasn't why I was here. And I couldn't risk damaging the timeline by doing something big like stopping the ship famous for sinking from sinking.

I snuck a look around. Most of the passengers were probably at dinner now. Some strolled the deck at a safe distance from me. I turned from the railling, slipping my hand in the pocket of my Edwaradian-style costume. Pulling out a silver pocket watch, I clicked it open.

7:3o. Titanic hit the iceberg at 11:40. I didn't have much time before the chaos started. The tiny line of silver that circled the edge of the watch face was creeping down. My time was short.

Picking up my skirts, I headed for the electric elevator. I hadn't done much exploring thus far and it was a huge ship. The only name I had to go on was von Linden.

I entered the corridor for First Class staterooms. I tried one just to see if it was locked. It didn't give under my grip.

"Can I help you, Miss?"

I jumped and turned. He was slight with a thin mustache, wore a suit and thick glasses. His balding head shone, and he looked indignant.

"Sorry!" I stepped back. "Is this your room?"

"Yes." He moved past me and proceeded to unlock the door. He paused and looked back at me. "Was there something you wanted?"

"I don't suppose you know where I can find Mr. von Linden?" I stammered. It was a shot in the dark.

His eyes shifted. He glanced down the hall both ways, then back at me.

"It's not safe to speak here. Please come in."

He opened his door and gestured for me to enter. Shutting the door, he faced me.

"I am Edward von Linden," he said. "I thought my presence here would go unnoticed."

"Well, sir, there was no von Linden aboard Titanic," I said. My heart pounded with excitement and apprehension. "So, can you tell me why you're here? With the watch blueprints?"

"You know much." He sunk into a chair. I took the one opposite him.

"I asked the creator if I could take the blueprints to America."

"Why?"

He hesitated before his next words. "Due to those who would cause problems with the timeline, the creator needed to keep the designs in a safe place until he can continue his work. But right now it's too dangerous. So I am taking his plans to safety."

"Do you know someone is still after those designs?" I asked.

He inclined his head. "There is no safety in our line of work. But why are you here?"

I straightened. "I'm here for those designs. I have to retrieve them before...someone else gets them first."

His brow furrowed. "You want to take the designs?"

The edge to his voice signaled a warning in my head.

"I'm not trying to steal them from you, Mr. von Linden," I said carefully. "They aren't supposed to be on Titanic, and their presence here--along with yours and mine--only creates more problems with the timeline. You have to believe me."

"What would you do with these plans?" he demanded.

"Take them off the ship and keep them safe."

"I can't allow that," he said sternly. "I have been entrusted with them."

"And how do you plan to escape?" I asked.

"I've no need to share more with you. You are threatening my own mission." He pulled out a small pistol. I drew back, shocked.

He signaled from a device in his room, still holding me at gunpoint, and soon the Master-at-Arms showed up, listened to von Linden's story of me breaking into his room and attacking him, and hauled me off to the brig.

I was left alone. I sank down to the floor, gripping the cold bars around me. I had failed.

"You've made a right mess of your first field job, haven't you."

I stood quickly, standing on my dress and almost falling. "Who's in here?"

A shadowy form emerged on the other side of my jail. "Hello, Saylor."

That voice stilled every voluntary muscle. So cold. So self-satisfied.

"Vincent." I gripped the bars so tightly my fingers hurt.

His slitted eyes watched me with the cunning of a wild feline. A shag of blond hair curled at the nape of his neck, thick and stringy. A smug smirk tugged at his hardened mouth.

"So they finally let you out to play in the big leagues." He moved and spoke with charisma, but something dangerous lurked beneath the surface.

"You're not supposed to be here," I said flatly, though I shook.

"Neither are you." He walked up to the bars and pinned me with his gaze. "Where are they, Saylor?"

"Where are what?" I didn't meet his gaze.

He reached through the bars and grabbed my wrist. I struggled, but he pulled me closer to my side of the bars and hissed, "Don't play games with me, girl. I've had enough of the garbage you and your friends do for a living."

I pulled and wriggled in his grip. "They protect history from people like you!"

"Spoken like someone who doesn't know the whole truth."

"What are you talking about? Let...me...go!" I finally wrenched away, my wrist red and throbbing.

"Your parents put me in prison for 15 years!” Vincent raged, his voice thundering.

"That's not my fault! You went psycho on everyone. You broke all the time laws. You can't blame anyone else for what happened!" I rubbed my wrist and stepped back, fear choking my throat.

He paced like a wild cat, his tongue soothing his lower lip. He finally looked up at me again. "That design belongs to my family. I'm taking it off this ship."

"I won't let you."

"You can't stop me."

Suddenly, far above us, us a shout rose up. I looked up, heart pounding.

“Iceberg, dead ahead!”

I could have mouthed the words along with the sailor.

It had begun.

A slow smile spread across Vincent's face. "So long, Saylor. With you stuck in here and me getting my inheritance, my revenge is complete."

"But you have no idea how that's going to mess up the future!" I yelled as he turned away. "Vincent, listen to me!"

He was gone. I sank back down, my skirt billowing. Fear and guilt ripped through me. How was I going to finish my mission now? I folded my arms over my drawn-up knees and rested my forehead on them.

The minutes ticked by. Then I felt it. The heavy shudder of the ship when it collided with the iceberg. As the shuddering dragged out, my fear heightened. I was trapped without the watch designs. And my own watch was running down. I looked at it again. 11:40.

Right on schedule, I thought grimly. Tears started again.

Then suddenly, Vincent was storming back into the brig. He walked straight up to my cell and pulled out a key.

"What are you doing?" I stood and backed up.

"Don't ask questions." His voice was gruff but not as dark as before. "Follow me."

"Um, no. No way." I didn't walk through the door when he creaked it open. He stood holding the door, staring at me.

"There's no time. Do you want to live?"

"If I go with you I won't," I answered stiffly, yet my eyes darted toward the exit.

"Look," he growled, taking a step toward me, "We need to get off this ship, and if you stay in here that won't happen. Come. On."

I stood still for a few more moments, then slowly walked toward him, sliding past him more quickly and standing to the side. I wasn't about to let him walk behind me.

"What's your angle?" I demanded as he hurried down the corridor, me trotting to keep up. "I know you didn't have a real change of heart."

He looked straight ahead as we found the staircase to Third Class and started climbing. "This changes nothing between us, Smith. Springing you only benefits me."

"Yeah?" I fought to keep my breath from dragging as we rushed along. "How so?"

"Just hurry up," he answered roughly.

I was silent from Third Class to Second Class. When we got back to First, I remembered von Linden. I couldn't let Vincent get his hands on those designs.

People were already crowding the hallway, some holding life jackets with puzzlement on their faces, others already incased in the white vests and moving toward the upper decks. Crew members were knocking on doors, calling for people to put on their life jackets. Confusion. Bewilderment. Even disdain lined their faces.

"Is this really necessary, waking us up for this?" I heard a man grumble as we passed.

Vincent cut a swathe through the crowd with his tall figure and pushy demeanor. I tried to follow without getting too close or losing him. I hadn't forgotten he was the enemy.

But, for now, survival may just have softened that line.

I kept my eye out for von Linden, but he was nowhere to be seen. We continued hurrying down the corridors, reaching new landings as we headed for the top deck. I tried to keep the blueprints of the ship I had studied in my mind.

Suddenly, as we reached the stairs to the open deck, a group of people coming down crashed into us, and Vincent get knocked back to his own surprise. He stumbled and caught himself against the stair rail, but the hit was hard enough that a packet of papers and small package swung from his jacket pocket and fluttered to the floor.

I gaped. "Hey!"

He didn't give me another glance as he hurriedly swept them up and shoved them into obscurity.

"Are those...is that..."

He gripped my arm and pulled me up the stairs. We had reached the boat deck. People were milling about, some with their jackets, some without. Crew members were gathering near lifeboats. I heard the soft sound of music. Millions of tiny crystalline jewels sparkled against the indigo sky in tranquil unconsciousness of the horror already unfolding below.

Vincent pulled me to a corner and gave me a death stare. I gave it right back. "I'm not going anywhere without those plans. Or von Linden."

"What, now the person too? You're playing games with history," he said.

"My mission is to protect history and keep lives safe-" I began fiercely, but he interrupted with a laugh.

"Stop with the lies," he hissed. "You're here for yourself. Most of these people will die just as history predicted. But what do they matter, right? So long as you carry out your mission."

I caught my breath, anger dissolving in dismay. I knew he was right, but I hated him for it all the more. I looked around, the guilt flooding back like the icy arctic water already seeping into the ship. I looked out toward the ocean. The cold, dark, heartless ocean. Not a light was in sight. It seemed like Titanic was the only vessel of humanity left in the world.

My stomach churned, and bile rose in my throat. If I was about to throw up I knew exactly where I was aiming. His shiny shoes looked very inviting.

But my time was running out. Precious seconds were being wasted.

Vincent stepped closer to me. "And you wonder why I left the agency." His stringy blond hair fell into his eyes. "Look, you want to know why I got you out of there instead of leaving you to drown? It was tempting."

I glared at him. "What do you want, Vincent?"

He looked around, then stealthily pulled out the package, unwrapping a small, copper pocket watch. I couldn't conceal a soft gasp.

"It's not just the blueprints..." I whispered. "It's the prototype."

"The only one in the world. Don't you wonder why your beloved agency never told you there was already one in existence?"

"They must not have known."

"Oh, please. Mendol, he's in charge, right? He knows exactly what's going on here. He wants his paws on this prototype without anyone else knowing. He was going to steal the designs and adopt the patent as his own. The creator would be left in the dust of history, with Mendol taking all the credit."

I felt my mouth hanging open, my heart racing, my mind trying desperately to comprehend and disprove what had to be a huge lie.

"You're wrong," I stammered, my palms sweating. "Bryce wouldn't lie to me. He's a good guy. He's trying to protect history, not steal somebody's invention."

Vincen shook his head with an incredulous smirk. "You new field agents really will believe anything the boss says, won't you."

"You can't prove anything you're saying is true," I shot back. Yet, doubt pulsed, unwelcome, at the back of my head.

Around us, the chaos was growing. More people were crowding the deck, and in looking up, I could see the lifeboats start to be occupied by women and children. Voices rose like a plaintive, collective cry for help into the night. I shivered.

"Saylor." I jumped and looked up at my enemy. "You are going to take this to America for me."

"Oh yeah? Why should I do anything for you, Vince?"

His face softened just slightly. "That's the first time you've called me that in a long time."

I gritted my teeth. "We haven't been friends in a long time. That ship has sailed."

"Ha. No pun intended?" He rolled his eyes, the hard look back in his eyes. "That's fine. Friendship isn't necessary for a transaction. But this is my condition. Why I sprung you."

"How does me taking the designs and prototype to America help you? I know you'd only have me do this for your own benefit."

"I never told you what my mission was." He stepped closer to me, lowering his voice even more. I fought the urge to step away from him, keeping my gaze stern.

"I've seen your timeline, Saylor."

I flinched. "That's classified. How-"

"No time." He held up his hand. "I've seen it, and it ends tonight."

My heart sank. "What?"

"Mendol knows it. That's why he sent you. He knew you'd fail. And it would look like an unfortunate field agent died on the job while Mendol made sure his man got to America, where he would hand off the design and prototype to a carrier where Mendol could get to it."

"No" I whispered, my stomach curdling. My hands and spine tingled. The deck under me seemed to tilt.

The deck was tilting. Titanic was sinking.

"Saylor," he said. "You need to go. Check your watch."

I numbly pulled it out. 1:00. "Why are you telling me all this," I whispered.

He raked a hand through his unkempt hair and shrugged. "I've been tracking Mendol a while. He's sacrificed too many for his own selfishness. Let me guess, the agent before you bit the dust, right? Yep, and yet, the missions go on. I hate him, his agency, and everything he stands for (along with your parents who had me put away for following my own beliefs and methods), and as much joy as it would give me to exact revenge and take what's rightfully my family's..." He frowned.

"What?" I pressed.

He shook his head, then nodded toward the lifeboats. Already the areas around them were crowded; people pushed, shoved, yelled. I jumped when one of the crew members fired a gun into the air, followed by more shouting of what I could only guess to be warnings. "You need to go."

Unspoken protests and questions burned my tongue, but he guided me toward one of the lifeboats. Instintively I looked around for Thomas Andrews. I couldn't remember if he got off the ship or not. I hoped he survived.

Vincent pushed his way through the crowd. A crew member reached out to help me into the lifeboat, but I pulled back.

"Wait," I cried frantically. "If I get on, someone else in history who sat here will die!"

"Who cares!" Vincent exclaimed. "This is your life and you have to stay alive!"

Disregarding the onlookers, the urgent motions of the crewman, and the pushing around us, I shot back, "This is about someone else's life, too!"

He snarled, yanked me away from the lifeboat, and pulled out the watch prototype and designs, pushing them into my cold hands.

"You're crazy," he hissed. "Do you want to die tonight?"

"Of course not, but-"

"You have no idea who or if someone ever sat where you would be sitting. I told you what I know about Mendol. The only way for you to stop him and stay alive is for you to take these and get on a boat."

"But, all these people," I protested, my voice catching. "We can't even tell them..."

Vincent looked over my shoulder at the passengers of Titanic.

"You can't save everyone. Just look around." He waved his arm. "Even if you told every single person on this ship it would sink, what would change? The ship would still sink. People would still die. And," He nodded toward my pocket. "You're almost out of time."

The deck was tilting more under us. It was getting harder to stand up straight. People were rushing past us, panic rising like the waterline inside the ship. Once again, Thomas Andrews came to mind. I wholeheartedly missed his kind presence.

"Get to New York. Another agent will meet you there who can help you get home. And..." He blew out a lungful of air. "I'll do my best to make sure every woman and child I see gets on a lifeboat."

I grabbed the ships' railing and met Vincent's gaze. "What about you?"

He half smiled. "I have my watch."

The color and pop of emergency flares brightened the night sky. More lifeboats were being lowered or fought over. Some passengers had already fallen into the water as the ship went down.

I let Vincent pull me over to one of the few remaining lifeboats. Adrenaline coursed through me as the crewman helped me over the gap between the lifeboat and the deck. I sat on the hard plank, clutching my contraband, and looked up at Vincent Farthing.

He stood nonchalantly, hands in his pockets. I couldn't detect a trace of emotion. I couldn't think of anything to say as our lifeboat was slowly lowered into the sea.

We rowed a short distance from the ship and stopped, floating in place. Information I had learned over the past few hours pounded in my brain. I felt like I was going to cry. I was also freezing cold, and had no coat. Our boat watched in horrified silence as Titanic's stern rose into the air. Her lights flickered out. Panic galloped through my veins and terrified cries deafened my ears. I dared look around me and wished I hadn't.

Hundreds of bodies, people shrieking and wildly thrashing in the water. Everywhere I looked, the faint white glow of moonlight shown on the life vests of the drowning passengers of Titanic. Already, victims had begun freezing to death. I was sitting in a nightmare.

Then, she was going down. My research hadn't prepared me for how I felt watching Titanic slip beneath the waters of the Atlantic. Cold tears kissed my cheeks. It truly was something you did not witness every day. A true tragedy of her time. So many lives forever changed or stolen.

Hours later, as I knew, the ship Carpathia appeared to rescue us, too late for most of Titanic's passengers. I was brought on board with the other saved, shivering and silent. As I sat on a crate, staring out at the unforgiving ocean in the gray light, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the watch prototype. Unwrapping the material around it, I let it fall open and inhaled sharply. My heart twinged.

The copper prototype was gone. In its place was a silver pocket watch just like mine. Only engraved on top was the name: Farthing.

"Why did you do it?" I whispered, clutching it to my chest. Vincent knew I needed a way to get home, that my time was up. The prototype for the time-travel watch had met its fate at the bottom of the Atlantic in the wreckage of Titanic. Mendol would not get his hands on it.

I'd been lied to, manipulated, and racked with my own guilt. Who I'd thought was my ally was actually my enemy. Who I'd thought was my enemy had saved my life, on a night when so many others had lost their own.

That's not something that happens every day.