Sixth Sense of a Sixth Officer

Chapter 5

Once again, Will Murdoch comes to consciousness. It seemed passing out or getting his lights punched out was recently becoming a daily occurrence for him. And once again, his arms and legs are restrained by leather straps. Putting his head back down on the pillow, he sighs. "What the hell did I do this time?.." He whispered under his breath. Just as he assumed everyone else was tired of all this, Murdoch himself was just as tired of this shit. "Something has really been happening to you, Mr. Murdoch." The doctor said. "Yeah... no shit..." The Scotsman replied. "Well, I shall alert the Captain that you're now awake." The doctor then added. Murdoch watched him leave the cabin. Meanwhile, Thomas Andrews had just woken in bed. Looking around, he found he was still in the wireless room. The side of his face still hurt a bit from the punch that Mr. Murdoch-or Murderous Murdoch- had gifted him. He let out a breath. He looked at the curtain that covered the doorway, leading out into the adjoining cabin; the curtain was closed. Sitting up, Thomas paused for a moment before finally getting to his feet and walking out into the adjoining room. "Oh, Mr. Andrews, you're awake." Said Bride. He sat by the small table, though it was Phillips who was working at the key. "Hey," Andrews greeted. "Where's Mr. Murdoch?" He then asked. "Captain Smith and Mr. Moody took a knocked out Mr. Murdoch down to the doctor's cabin. We were instructed by Captain Smith to leave you here until you woke up." Phillips explained, all while not looking up from the key. "Oh alright. Well, thanks." Andrews replied, bidding the two young men goodbye, before leaving the room, but not before jotting a thing or two down in his small black notebook.. "So, what the hell did I do this time?" Murdoch asked. Captain Smith was by his side, along with Bruce Ismay. Mr. Andrews had just arrived. "You attacked our wireless men." Ismay said. Murdoch let out a breath. "I'm not getting better am I? I'm only getting worse..." Murdoch replied. "It takes time, Mr. Murdoch." The Captain replied. Lifting his head, Will looked at Andrews. "Did I punch you? I have a vague recollection of what happened." "Yeah, you did, but it was not your fault, so don't worry about it." The Irishman replied. "Do you actually remember anything from the night before?" Ismay asked. "Kinda. Sometimes, it's like I see everything my other persona is doing, but I can't do anything to stop it. When I finally come to my own mind, sometimes I remember it vividly for a bit, or just in bits, or sometimes not at all." Murdoch explained. "Mr. Murdoch, why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Captain Smith asked. "I guess I just would rather not bring it up, and what would be the point since I never think anyone would understand, let alone believe me. I would rather just push it down and hide it." Murdoch replied. In the past, when there came the days when Murdoch was feeling well enough for work, he would say just that: that he wasn't feeling well, usually mentally. Now, it sounded like a cover story, and maybe it was, but knowing the entire truth now, still made the possible cover story still legit. "Has this been the reason behind all your mental problems in the past, Mr. Murdoch?" Smith asked. "Basically, yes, sir. And now, you know the whole truth." Murdoch replied.
James Moody laid on his bed. He held a baseball. Facing the ceiling, he threw the ball up a bit, watching it fall before his hand caught it-only for the motions to repeat again. Written on the baseball was Harold Lowe's signature. A long while ago, while at home, Lowe and Lightoller were batting a ball. Lowe had a strong hit, a great hit even! It probably would have been just a bit better if the baseball's journey didn't end by leaving a hole in Moody's bedroom window. "HAROLD!" He yelled. "SORRY, JAMES! I'LL PAY FOR THE WINDOW IF YOU WANT ME TO!" "YOU BETTER, IDIOT!" James replied. He was about to throw the ball back through the hole in the now broken window with as much might as he possibly could, but Harold spoke once again, or rather, yelled. "KEEP THE BALL! I'LL SIGN MY SIGNATURE WITH AN APOLOGY FOR YOU!" At that, James cracked a grin he couldn't hide, rolling his eyes. Harold Godfrey Lowe was an idiot alright, but he was an idiot that usually meant good. The ball fell back down into James's hand once again and he turned it to show the writing. "From, your friend, Harold G. Lowe-Sorry for breaking your window!" It read. Moody stared at it, not showing any particular emotion. He then threw it up in the air once more, catching it on its descent. With the ball in his hand, he put his arms out to his sides, letting them dangle without a care as he blew out a whiff of air. Oh, what to do? As James continued to stare at the ceiling, his eyes grew heavier and heavier until, finally, he fell asleep.
In the Mess Hall, Lowe, Lightoller and Wilde sat at one of the tables. Lightoller, on the left, reading the paper, Lowe, on the right, juggling two small balls, and Wilde, sitting across with a cup of coffee. "So what's gonna happen to Will after all this is finally over? I mean, the situation with the deaths of Pitman and Boxhall are over with, but what about Will and his current mental state? How do we solve this? I mean, we're not just gonna throw him into an asylum, right? That seems too cruel for what he's been going through!" Wilde asked. "Honestly, I don't know, As on edge as it seems, I think we just need to wait and see how things unfold on their own." Lightoller replied, not taking his eyes off the newspaper. In the midst of Lowe's juggling, he also lost a ball, but managed to grab it, uttering a silent curse, and partly hitting the newspaper that was opened next to him. Charles Lightoller only glanced at the young man next to him before his eyes returned to the paper and he spoke again. "I mean, I agree; I'm basically certain that if we just were to throw his ass in an asylum, he's not gonna get better. He may think we're just abandoning him or something, but at least even he knows he's fucked up at the moment, so I would also imagine he would understand why we would take that road, but I don't think Captain Smith of all people would let something like that happen to Mr. Murdoch." He explained, turning a page of the paper in the process. "Mr. Murdoch is still down in the doctor's cabin?" Lowe confirmed. "Mm-hm." Lightoller replied. "And Mr. Moody is in his cabin right now." Wilde added. Lightoller nodded. "What do you think he's doing?" Wilde mused out loud. Charles lowered the paper a small bit, looking at Henry Wilde., who wore a spaced out confused expression. With an "I don't know" sound, Charles added, "Maybe sleeping or something?" Wilde didn't reply. His confused expression was like that of a theorist trying to understand one of the world's greatest misunderstood theories. "I don't think I've ever seen you with such a confused expression before." Charles added once more. "How long do you think Mr. Murdoch will have to stay down in the doctor's cabin?" Lowe asked. The juggling had stopped, but he still played with the balls, tossing them up and down and catching them in his hand. "No idea." Lightoller replied.
James awoke laying on his side in bed. How long was he asleep for? The clock read 6:43 pm. The last he checked the time it was about 4:32 he believed? James sat up, and swung his legs over the side, and got up onto his feet, heading towards the door. Opening the door, he walked out into the hallway of the Officer's Quarters, closing it behind him. He didn't need to think where to go, and as James left the Officer's Quarters, he yawned and rubbed at his eyes, much like that of a child who had just awoken on an early morning. First, his feet took him to the wireless room. He wanted to see how Phillips and Bride were fairing after what had happened with Mr. Murdoch the other night. Moody had just walked into the room when another yawn escaped him. "How you two doing after what happened the other night?" He asked. Phillips, who was still at the key, looked over at the Sixth Officer with a raised brow and a small grin. "Tired much?" He joked. A third yawn came from Moody. "I just woke up from a nap actually." He replied. "And yet you're still yawning?" Bride said, putting his own joke into the conversation. "Eh, shut up." Moody replied jokingly. In the late afternoon, Mr. Murdoch was released from the doctor's cabin. "You alright, Mr. Murdoch?" Officer Lowe asked, his head cocking to the side slightly. At the command of Captain Smith, Moody and Lowe were sent to fetch the Scotsman and help him up to Titanic's bridge. "Eh, somewhat tired and drained, but I'm fine." The three officers arrived at the bridge with no problems. While Officer Lowe was the one who made the most talk during their trip, and Murdoch and Moody chiming in, it was Moody who would sneak glances at Murdoch... he looked... normal... despite whatever lines were coming from the corner of his eyes due to tiredness. Speaking of his eyes, they shined a blue color-no red. No blood was splattered on his face either. 'When would the next surprise jump out?' was what Moody wondered. After the arrival at the bridge, James and Harold soon parted ways from William, as he wanted to get some rest in his cabin. Despite everything that's been happening, Captain Smith commanded that all officers get their sleep. Everyone bidded each other goodnight before disappearing into their rooms. It wasn't hard for them all to fall asleep, as they were all exhausted, including James. While in his deep slumber, James had quite a dream. From within the dream, Murdoch had committed suicide in order to try and stop Murderous Murdoch, but he made one fatal mistake... by killing himself, he allowed Murderous to take full control of his conscious. For a moment, Will Murdoch laid against the wall motionless.   His pajamas stained with blood. The other officers had dispersed, heading to get what they were told to get by the Captain. Doctors, maybe? But he thought that they had already been fetched by Mr. Wilde? And where was Miss Florence? Wasn't he sent to fetch her himself?  Moody looked towards the door; Captain Smith was nowhere in sight. Didn't he say he would stay here? Creeping forward ever so slowly, James put out his hand, reaching for Murdoch's shoulder. With a swift movement, his arm was grabbed. Murdoch raised his head, and James Moody once again came face to face with Murderous Murdoch. The shock pulled him out of his slumber and Moody awoke in the late morning. 10:54 am is what the clock said. There was no need to fuss, as Captain Smith told his officers the night before that they don't have to worry about waking up early in the morning. Everyone needed a break from work after everything that has been going on. They were also informed that if Mr. Murdoch is asleep at any time, he mustn't be disturbed. Entering the Mess Hall, Moody was met by Charles Lightoller, Harold Lowe, and Henry Wilde, all of them chatting away. Murdoch wasn't there, but everyone was used to that by now. Sitting down next to Charles, James listens in to what he was talking to Harold about. "I simply disagree, Harold. Roosevelt simply is more popular than Taft. Based on political statistics, Roosevelt is about 4% more popular vote wise!" Lightoller explained. "While that is true, you have to admit that Taft has just as great-if not better- ideals for the United States." "Yes, that may also be true, but different people have different tastes when it comes to politics." Lightoller replied. "Yes, but in Taft's opinion, he believes Roosevelt is stretching the powers of the Executive branch." Lowe responded. "But Roosevelt is a fighter for the progressive ideals. That's what today's world needs for such a position, as well as in politics in general." Lightoller said. "Never thought I'd see two Englishmen squabble over American politics." Wilde mused, sitting down at the head of the table, setting himself diagonally from the two political discussing Englishmen. James didn't say anything in response as he poured his cereal into a bowl, afterall, James didn't really care much for the political world.