Chapter Text
"Out of the way, out of the way!" Hob shouted, shoving past another dock worker with an apology barely out of his lips before he ran, stretching his legs to the fullest extent, sprinting for the on-ramp to the ship that he could see now. His bag was bouncing against his back painfully, but the ticket was clenched in his fist and the ticket was all that mattered. He ran harder, sweat running down his face as he made his way to the ship and didn't hesitate to shove the ticket at the crewman at the base of the ramp before he sprinted up it the rest of the way.
He'd made it.
He was on the Titanic.
Hob let out a delighted laugh and immediately began to make his way through the crowds that were gathered out on the decks of the ship to watch it pull out and into the open sea. When he'd heard that the Titanic had planned to dock at Queenstown, he'd thought that getting a ticket was absolute folly, only to find himself in a poker game with a ticket as the stakes. He heaved in a desperate breath of the sea air and bounced on his toes excitedly.
Now, bound for the Americas, the freshest air on his face, and a ship larger than any that had ever sailed under his feet, Hob wanted to dance, even as he grinned up at the sunshine. There was nothing, absolutely nothing that could make this trip better than what it was already. He found an empty spot of railing near the bow of the ship and stepped up onto it, lifting himself up and above the crowds, waving frantically at the shoreline, taking his cap off to tilt his head into the sunshine properly, the wind whipping at his hair.
The gigantic horn sounded, and then the ship was slowly being tugged out of her berth and into the open sea. He'd made it, by mere minutes.
Hob laughed again and lingered by the bow for far longer than everyone else, even as he turned to watch some of the richest prigs he'd ever seen in his life saunter by, scowling like his mere existence offended them. He smirked and even blew a kiss at one particularly offended mother. The daughter had to hide a giggle behind her fan and that was more than worth it.
Of course, then he saw him.
Hob froze, his eyes widening, as a man, wearing a suit that had been tailored to fit every inch of him, turned and met his eyes. They were ice-blue, bluer than the ocean beneath them, and condescending. He was milky pale, the kind that only the richest in England could ever be, with skin that must have been softer than satin for how unblemished it was. He didn't look away and instead kept the gaze up, watching as the condescending look shifted to confusion and then, if he wasn't mistaken, a faint hint of amusement.
Because he was himself, Hob blew another kiss, pointedly, keeping eye contact, and watched those eyes widen and narrow. He smirked, but it was either the sun or his kiss that had caused the lightest dusting of pink on those cheekbones and he had the feeling that the prig wouldn't have let it be the sun. He gave a jaunty wave and turned back to the water, watching the shoreline begin to disappear. He'd have to, eventually, find his bunk, and focus on getting himself settled, but right now, he didn't need to do anything other than savor all of the wind on his face and the fact that he'd made some posh aristocrat blush. What a world it was.
~!~
Several hours later, after a dinner that had stuffed him to the gills and back, Hob decided that the only way he'd be able to sleep without indigestion would be to take a long walk (several times around the ship if he had his way), so he made his way to the upper deck and started to walk. He made sure to wave to the crew members, making friendly comments as he went, and staying out of the way of all the fancy folk. Despite his flirting earlier, he knew damn well that he was far too lowborn for any of them to look at him, let alone do more than that. He whistled happily and let himself enjoy the exercise on the most expensive boat currently sailing the sea.
It was on his third lap (if he was also using his walking to get a feel for the place and where everything was, that was on him, this place was enormous after all), that Hob noticed someone lingering at the back of the boat. He paused, because they were clearly standing just out of the range of the lights, their black silhouette almost invisible against the night sky, except for the outline that he'd clocked in seconds. He frowned and took a step closer, being careful to be quiet.
When the man straightened up from his leaning position and lifted one long leg over the gate, Hob's heart slammed against his ribs, fear shooting through him. He moved forward, decisively, and barely had a second to recognize widening ice-blue eyes before he was straddling the railing with his back to the ocean, mimicking the pose of the stranger beside him, ready to jump.
"You jump, I jump," Hob said, his mind racing far beyond logic, beyond anything that made a rational lick of sense. When the man frowned at him, Hob repeated himself, because if he was going to be in for a penny, he was going to be in for a pound. "You heard me," he said, glancing toward the ship, but there was no one there. "You jump, I jump."
"What are you doing?"
Hob tightened his hand on the railing and reminded himself that it would be a very bad time to ruminate on just how attractive that voice was and how pretty it could sound moaning out his name. "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm giving you a reason not to jump, you ninny."
The stranger clenched his eyes shut. "Get away from me. I don't need you to stop me."
"Yeah, but that's not how this works," Hob said with a shrug, swinging himself out a little, keeping his arms locked. He didn't miss the way the stranger's eyes widened in fear. "If you decide to take a jump, you're as good as killing me, not just yourself. And while you might not want to live, I certainly do."
"Then what the hell are you doing?" The stranger snarled. "You don't know me, and I certainly don't-"
"Name's Robert Gadling, but you can call me Hob. Son of a dock worker, not that you give two shits, and been on my own since the day I left home to seek out my fortunes elsewhere." He shrugged pointedly. "I'm thirty-four, I've been living in Ireland for more than two years, and when I won the ticket on the Titanic earlier today, I grabbed everything I could and ran to catch the boat before it left the harbor."
The stranger scoffed. "So eager to try your fortunes in the Americas?"
Hob shrugged. "Not particularly. But finding and chasing the next adventure isn't a bad way to go through life in my experience, and I certainly don't mind. It's how I stay one step ahead of death, you know." An odd sort of stillness came over the stranger and Hob met his eyes happily. "Now, come on, I can tell you more about my fascinating life when we're not dangling over frigid water. What do you say?"
"You're a fool," the stranger scoffed. "Leave me be."
"Afraid I can't do that, dove. You jump, I jump. Either we both climb back on board, or we're taking a swim I would much rather avoid. Your choice,” Hob shrugged again. “Besides, you so sure that life isn’t worth living?” He waited, watching the stranger’s tense arms and hands, ready to grab him and shout for help if the bastard did decide to let go.
“Why the hell do you care?”
Hob stared at him for a long moment and let go of the metal bar to reach out and touch one of the tense arms next to him. Icy eyes glared at him again, but Hob could see the tears gathering in them and he squeezed, gently. “Because I care, sweetheart,” he said, his voice softening. “Anyone who is desperate for this painful a death, and you know it’d be painful, don’t deny it, is desperate for someone to care.”
Hob watched the stranger take a heaving, desperate breath, even as a tear streaked down his cheek.
“I, I do not need-"
“It’s not about need, is it?” he interrupted. “It’s about wanting. We don’t need much, and can survive with even less. But wanting? Wanting is the dangerous thing. Wanting is when we crave more than we deserve, than we earn, and most often, than we can have. I want you to live. I guarantee I want you to live more than you want to die.”
A scoff. “Why?”
Hob smiled faintly. “Because you’re beautiful, and it’d be an utter shame if I don’t get to kiss those lips of yours at least once.” He shrugged. “And because it’d be a shame to ruin a tuxedo that I know costs more than I have made in my entire life.” That, at least, earned an ugly snort of laughter, and Hob gave his arm another squeeze.
“Come on, dove,” Hob coaxed. “Back over the railing. No one’s seen us yet. No one needs to know, I’m sure as hell not going to tell anyone.” He met the confused eyes of the stranger, but then there was the tiniest of nods, and in a fluid movement, the stranger was standing on the other side of the railing. Hob let out a gusty sigh of relief and climbed back over in a second, grinning at the stranger again, even as he caught him looking out at the black ocean.
Hob waited a few more seconds. “Wanna talk?” The scowl he got in return made him snort and he shook his head. “Oh very well. Want to walk with me up to the third deck? There’s a few nice corners, and a bar I’m relatively sure no one else knows about. I’ll pinch a bottle of their best wine and we can find a spot to drink.” That, at least, got him a surprised blink.
“I could buy any bottle on this boat.”
Hob shrugged. “You can, but I can’t, so we’re going to go steal a bottle of booze, I’ll tell you some of my life story, try to make you laugh until you do, and then you can go back to your posh suite and pretend this night never happened.” He smiled and started to walk, noting that the stranger fell into step with him within seconds. They took the long way to the deck, and when he got there, the bar was deserted.
A quick leap over the counter, a grab for a bottle that he knew would please the posh git, and two glasses, before they were back and walking down the deck.
“You’re a rather accomplished thief. Should I be worried for my belongings?”
Hob snorted. “I hopped a counter. If you call that accomplished, you’re more sheltered than I thought.” He turned another corner and found a cozy alcove that they could settle into, gesturing for the stranger to sit down beside him. He poured them both glasses of whiskey and settled back against the chair. “All right, come on. Drink that, and then tell me why you wanted to jump off the back of a boat when you have more money than god.”
Hob watched, and waited, as the stranger took a long sip from his glass, far longer than would have been acceptable in polite company. He smiled faintly and waited as he finished off the glass and then put it to the side of him. He raised an eyebrow, pointedly, and waited.
“You said…”
The hesitation was obvious and Hob relaxed his posture, reaching for his glass before taking a long sip of it. “I said a great many things. All of which I meant.”
“Including the one about kissing me?” the stranger asked, his eyes piercing and demanding.
Hob let out a hard breath and huffed out a laugh. “Course I meant that. Have you seen yourself? Those lips are begging to be kissed and kissed properly.” When the stranger blinked at him, Hob raised an eyebrow. “That’s definitely diverting from my question though.”
“I…” The stranger frowned. “I am being pressured into a marriage, for sake of my two children.” His eyes flickered up at the sharp intake of breath.
A shudder ran up Hob’s spine and he moved so his side was pressed against the stranger’s. A line of warmth. He’d seen far too many kids grow up without their parents and to know that two more kids in the world could have ended up like that… well, if he hadn’t been proud of his deed tonight, now he certainly was. “Why?”
“I have a ward. I took her in when her parents died. She is…” he paused and smiled. “She is a younger sister to me, and I love her dearly, but she is of age now, and I have expressed no desire to find another wife, so she has been suggested, strongly, by my family.” He paused again and reached out for the bottle, pouring himself another drink.
“That’s not an uncommon situation,” Hob observed.
“No,” the stranger agreed. “It is not. However, what is uncommon is that she is in love with the woman I hired to care for my children.”
Hob’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
“If I were no longer in the picture, she, my ward, would inherit a large portion of my estate, as well as custody of my children. She would be able to keep on their caretaker and they could be together.” He paused, staring down at the drink he had poured himself. “They could, perhaps, find a measure of happiness together, like that.”
Hob swallowed and watched the stranger stare at the liquid in his glass as though it held all of the answers to the world that he was entrenched in. “Are they unhappy now?”
“No, but they do not enjoy hiding.”
“No one does,” Hob agreed, finishing off his glass as he leaned back. “Still don’t know why you decided to jump off the boat. Surely faking your death or something would be much easier.”
The stranger raised an imperious eyebrow. “Do you truly not know who I am?”
Hob shrugged. “Nope. I introduced myself, but you weren’t in a place to introduce yourself back, but if you’d like to rectify that now, I wouldn’t say no.”
“My name is Morpheus Endless.”