A/N: Trigger warning. Suicidal thoughts.

"You're carrying a heavy burden," Gaia said as Graham and Harry clinked their glasses together. The clear amber of pungent scotch scented the air.

They sat in a booth to the right of a gleaming oak bar that reminded her of home and Murphy's pub. A sudden pang of homesickness made her wince.

"Tell me about little Betty Anderson," Gaia said.

"It was a heartbreaking thing. The marks around her throat, long slender fingers. No one would listen to me when I said cherchez la femme. Look for the woman. I couldn't stomach the sight of them anymore. The policemen, the chief, the mayor or her poor heartbroken parents."

Harry nodded. "It's very hard to believe the weaker sex could do such a thing. But I know, women are strong. And stronger yet when in pursuit of and evil purpose. We have many in our history."

"Not one of them could believe a woman would have so much evil in her to kill a baby. Betty was barely four-years-old." Graham took a long draught of his scotch, draining the crystal highball glass. Harry waved at the barmaid, signaling for another round.

"Do you want anything, Gaia?" he asked.

"Some of that Pepsi? With lots of ice? I've developed a serious liking for it. Always gives me a lift, much like coffee or tea," Gaia requested.

"Caffeine," Graham murmured.

"Caffeine?" Gaia cocked her head.

"Yes, it's the common stimulant in tea, coffee, and chocolate. We have learned how to make it in a chemistry lab, so it is used in Pepsi and Coca-Cola now, instead of other stimulants."

"Interesting," Gaia drew the word out. "But back to little Betty. I can get her and all the others who cling to you, to cross over and give you some peace. Especially the ones who's story is complete. The ones who's death you helped them to understand."

"I don't want Betty to go. I'll keep searching for her. For the woman, whose hands match the bruises around her throat. Somewhere, some when, someone will slip and give us the clue we need to solve this grisly murder." Graham picked up his second drink. "Ah, the barman has given us a different scotch. I believe it's a Macallan. Fine old blend this one."

"You're familiar with more than one of them?" Gaia asked.

"They've been my only companion in the evenings. Women find death doctors abhorrent." Graham sipped from his glass. "This one should be savored." He tilted his heavy crystal goblet toward Harry.

"It should be," Harry agreed.

Gaia accepted her glass of Pepsi and sipped. It settle her stomach better than the ginger tea at dinner. "I'll need to prepare properly for my time with your spirits. Many of them are grateful for the peace you gave their families, especially the children."

"Aye, there's nothing worse than not knowing why," Graham agreed. "You can give me peace from clamoring?"

"I can. I have many times. Do you know of Archibald Shields?" Gaia asked.

"Doesn't everyone? One of the best Irish stage actors of all time. He married, recently didn't he?" Graham asked.

"He did. He never forgave himself for his first wife's death. And his guilt over his daughter being in the same accident, convinced him he wasn't worthy of a second chance," Gaia told him.

"The spirit of his wife and daughter spoke through my wife," Harry said. "They absolved him his guilt. The boy whose life his wife saved when she veered into the ditch and hit a tree, is a prominent surgeon in France now. It's his mother Archie wed. They came to our wedding."

"You were able to that for him, give him peace? To have a tranquil evening where I don't need the drink to help me sleep would be nirvana," Graham said.

"I did, and I can do the same for you," Gaia insisted.

"When?" The hope in Graham's eyes humbled her. "I was contemplating jumping off the stern, and letting the dolphins do what they will for me."

She reached across the table where his scarred hand held his whiskey. She pried the glass from his grasp and held it in hers. Holding his gaze, she said, "As soon as I talk to Captain Kelly and our Purser. They should be able to arrange a private spot somewhere on this ship."

"Is Johnny your purser? If so, he'll let me know when you have made arrangements." Graham squeezed her hand hard and Gaia stifled her gasp. He really was desperate.

"Aye, Johnny is our purser too," Harry said. "Get some sleep, my friend. Let the scotch take you tonight. Tomorrow will be a different day."

"Hmph, a rougher day I expect. Are you going to make it through, my dear? You've been nauseous for days now?" Graham kept his grip on Gaia's hand when she attempted to pull away.

"I believe so. With ginger tea at my meals and this." She pointed at her empty glass of Pepsi, "I will be fine. Even with the rocking we are feeling already, I'm well able to keep it under control."

"In that case, let us go back to our rooms. I believe we need our sleep." Graham stood and wobbled a bit.

Harry slipped under his shoulder, and Gaia said, "Well said, Graham." She pulled his other arm over her shoulder. The man was taller than he looked when hidden behind the table.