Disclaimer I don't own Titanic. I do own the plot, and my character Kayla. Please ask before taking her.

A/n: This is a somewhat AU from what I normally write. However, I need to put some thoughts into words. Well Maybe. We'll just see where this chapter takes me.

Warning: This story may be dark, a bit darker then what I normally write, but then again maybe not. I have yet to decide. The usual themes will be present. Consider this your warning.

Chapter 1

Brown eyes shot open, as the owner of said eyes scrambled out of the bed. She had been sleeping a majority of the day a habit she adopted as of late. Being out of work, and being up all night due to issues of anxiety tended to turn a person around. She hardly ever got any sleep, and when she did, it was when he wasn't home. Four days a week.

There may have been a time several years ago when the opposite may have rung true. When she felt in love and happy, but now everything had changed. No longer clouded by anti-depresents she could see clearly the man she moved in with, the one who attempted to control her every move. The one who from time to time actually accomplished this task. The one person who allowed alcohol to control his every move. Why had she allowed herself to fall into this rut?

She would see him off and climb into bed sleep a majority of the day, and when she finally woke up she'd start her day. Unlike most women she never tended to the mountain of housework that required her attention, despite the fact he wished it to be so. He seemed to want a lot from her, but insisted she wasn't an un-paid servant. How many times had she heard 'I would love to come home to a clean house,' and have it not be so, or 'And come home and have to do the cleaning' to which he never did any of.

Sure on a good day she could get him to do dishes. Pile up laundry to be completed, but never did he do anything that helped her. Instead he'd find some way to buy her love, by buying things right and left. Spending money like it was going out of style, only to turn around and complain later on he had little, that he didn't have enough. Drinking became his constant, yet she stayed. Despite everything she'd been through, she stayed with him. Even when she would get hit, she stayed.

Her closest friends worried about her non-stop. She kept in touch day in and day out through phone calls and text messages, but sometimes it didn't feel like enough. At least not to those who did care about her. Yet she had to get from one day to the next.

After testing her blood sugar, the brown haired-brown-eyed woman grabbed a can of coke from the fridge and a granola bar from the pantry before sitting in front of her laptop. The same thing she had been doing for the past, what was it, year and a half? She'd lost track of time some time ago.

After losing her job at the local Pizza Hut, Kayla Tsukino was rarely seen out of her apartment. She never went further than the laundry mat, and would always return to her apartment. None of her neighbors seemed to take notice of her, or what she did or didn't do with her life. Half of them hardly said two words to her. So what did it matter if she lived or died? At least that's how she felt most of the time. She just kept going knowing that suicide would never solve anything. She doubted leaving would either based on how she felt about people. Putting complete trust in someone wasn't easy for her, and whenever she felt she could let her guard down she got hurt.

Kayla was tired of all of it. She was unhappy and cried almost all of the time. But, still she did what she felt best, and hung out either in bed or on the couch under a blanket. She didn't wish to provoke or anger him any more then need be, nor did she want to constantly have to do things alone. However, getting him to do anything with her was like literally pulling his arm. She couldn't keep it up, so if she got out once a week that was something. More then she did ever since he had cost her, her job.

Kayla reached up as her phone rang. Picking it up she knew who would be on the other end. George, the man she had been living with, the man, when drunk, caused tears and pain. The one who her friends wished her to leave, but she refused each time. "Hey…" she answered.

"I'm on my way home." He replied. The same reply she had come to expect ever since he started calling her. Letting her know about how much more quiet would remain before entering her life and filling it with the sounds of the t.v. and him drinking himself into nothing. Today proving to be no different. He had barely gotten home half an hour after the phone call, already into the beer. Kayla knew to avoid him as much as possible. So like every other night, she planted herself on the couch hoping not to stir up any trouble.

However, this only lasted close to an hour. "Do you know what you have in mind for dinner, if anything at all?" The question was one she asked every night, at almost the same time. It was often responded in a verity of ways.

George didn't even cast her a second glance taking a drink from the coke bottle that contained his beer before he growled, giving her an irate tone. "It's too early."

She should just keep quiet and ignore him at this point, but usually she didn't. "But, honey its much later then you think." Normally a comment such of this would result in hours of back and forth leaving Kayla in tears and frustrated. Tonight being no exception.

"I remember we wouldn't even think about dinner until ten."

"You know I can't do that anymore." Kayla insisted the argument heating up.

A hand backhanded Kayla, causing her to retaliate from the slap. Normally George only did this when she would try and take the beer from his grip, but this time, he had done it after going back and forth with her over the same issue. Kayla was almost afraid to cook a meal for herself. She knew how the result would end up. Instead she bolted for their bedroom and started putting everything she owned into bags. George naturally was hot on her heals ripping the things out just as quickly as she put them in. Another routine that happened when he had been drinking. But, she didn't give up. She kept arguing and trying to pack some things to take with her when she ran off. However, she never did make it very far when this thought occurred to her. Usually it would happen late at night, too late to catch a bus. Tonight again being no exception to this theory. In her state of mind however, running was the only thing on her mind, and she would do so at any cost. At least that's what she told herself each time she begun the process.

He at some point had stopped using words, resulting in a lot of shoving, hair pulling, anything to keep her from running. Kayla in turn received some bruises, and had been knocked around quite a bit, leaving her physically shaken ready to dissolve into a ball of sobs at any given moment. She couldn't keep this up, but somehow she did day after day. How she didn't even know, but after a while stopped trying to figure it out.

Shoving him one last time, Kayla bought herself some time and took it as a chance to flea. Hurriedly she packed a few days worth of clothes, her laptop, and all important things that went with it. Shoving it on the back of her wheelchair along with a few personal effects and her "purse" she left the apartment to parts unknown. She didn't know where she was going, she never did. She just felt she had to run. She had enough money to hop a bus but, once she was on the bus, she didn't know where she would go. Perhaps take it to the beach and duck into one of the sea-side hotels. She probably couldn't afford a night, but she aimed to try at least. Anything was better then what alternative she had which was staying where her life continued to be at risk. Another option was she could have called the police, but it would only result in someone being locked up, and fear of it being her stopped her dead in her tracks. She had done her fair share of hitting, punching, kicking and screaming to last a lifetime. Personally she didn't want anymore.

It hadn't taken long for him to recover, and when he realized she'd gone, he took off after her. She for her part hadn't made it very far, but she had reached the outer edges of her complex. Instead of heading tward Rigewood she went in the direction of Nova. But, she no sooner made the turn when someone stopped her in her tracks. Kayla reached down locking her breaks, as George tried to get her to come back, going as far as taking things that weren't physically strapped to her person. In the process banging Kayla around a bit in the chair. However, George had something different happen this time. Something completely unexpected. An auduance of people watching him attack Kayla taking her things literally right off of her.

Kayla had become numb to it all. Nothing mattered much to her. She would be drug back. The argument would continue until George finally sat still long enough and passed out. Only to have the cycle either repeat in a day, or four. One never knew. Keeping him active and busy was the only salvation she had. Four days a week where he couldn't wake up and drink. But, would that be enough? How long could she let this cycle continue before she got up and left. Actually left, none of the running without a plan or place to go. No one knew this, not even Kayla.

The only other thing that Kayla could feel amidst her tortured mind and numbness was pure exhaustion. The type that if one would sucome to it, would end up completely out, ms dead n appearance. Such a fate Kayla longed for night after night, but would never let go, allow herself to fall into its inviting grip. The fear of actual death stopping her each and every time. No matter how she longed for it, a larger part of her couldn't let go wanting to grasp on that fine line that told her waiting would bring her the greatest rewards. If waiting was all that was required, she'd done enough of it to last several lifetimes over.

The control finally faded. She completely let go. If death was to come to her this night then she would welcome it with open arms. No more hiding or running. No more being afraid. Neither had done her very good so far, after all every living thing needed to come to an end. Now it was her turn. Her head fell back against the back of the chair, lightly hitting the handlebar on the left side. She felt nothing more after that.

Pain, nothing but pain. That was all she felt. She had never thought when you died, you could feel anything at all. Then was she dead? Perhaps not. Then was this some kind of dream? Maybe…. Again, if it were, why could she feel her pain? Perhaps because that was all she had known. But, other feelings attacked her senses making her think this wasn't a dream. Sounds and smells filttered in making her wonder where the hell was she?

She could feel a cold wind nipping at her exposed skin, and she thought she could smell salt water. Living as close to a beach as she did, the smell didn't surprise her in the slightest, nor was the dark of night. She didn't think she'd moved that far from where she'd been stopped. If anything she thought he had drug her back. In fact that was the last thing she remembered. She'd lost yet another argument and George of course, feeling she was being silly and playing a game, had taken control of her wheelchair and brought her home. If this was true, then why did she feel she was still outside? And, how was it that she felt closer to the ocean?

Placing one foot down it hadn't taken long for her to conclude that she was still on cement of some kind, but not the type she grown used to from the sidewalks and parking lot of the apartment complex in which she lived. It begged the question where was she? How had she gotten to be there? And, where was George?

Despite how he may have treated her during his druken epsodes, Kayla could never forget the good times they'd had. The times that drove her to keep going, and made her stick with him day in and day out. However, as of late they paled in comparison to the episodes as of late, the ones that drove her away. She had to clear her head, find somewhere to go out of the cold. Perhaps with a clear head she would be able to figure out where she was, how she had come to be there, and most importantly how to get home.

Home, a word she used lightly, but if it ment being warm and dry she'd take another night of endless arguments and tears. However, she started to wonder if she would ever see it again. Right now all she wanted was to stop feeling so cold and lost. Gripping the handrails of her wheelchair firmly, she begun to move forward, lifting them only to repeat the process to move her forward just the slightest bit. Suddenly it didn't matter she had no night vision. If she kept moving that was more then enough for her. As long as she kept right on moving, it would help her forget everything else around her.

She came to a sudden stop, her body jerking back in her wheelchair her arms being pulled by the unexpected stop, and her body being shoved back. Her knees sporting two new scrapes to add to the assortment of sores and other things that decorated her body. The sensation of pain she had been trying to ignore returning in full force. A pain she could do without. Carefully she reached forward to see what she'd run into. No doubt it could have been anything, but her first thought was a wall considering she couldn't tell if she was on a sidewalk or the middle of the street. But, she had been proven wrong when she discovered it was a post. She had seen them around before, but couldn't tell what they could have been blocking. No mater though. She would just keep right on moving.

"Miss are you alright?" a male voice cut Kayla from her thoughts. Her head jerked up and her hands gripped the handrails of her wheelchair her knuckles were starting to turn white. It didn't sound threatening, but she wasn't going to take her chances. After all she didn't know where she was. She could be anywhere, and she didn't want to risk someone trying to take advantage of her or her situation. After all she knew from experience that men in general would often try to take advantage of girls who dared to wonder out like this.

Hearing no reply, the man slowly approached but kept his distance. He'd seen her reaction, and wanted to be sure she would be alright before doing anything. Based on the fact she reacted at all, it could be assumed she could hear him. "Miss, I don't want to hurt you, but if you're in some kind of trouble, I can help." He wasn't sure if his words had the desired effect, but at least she hadn't tried to run.

Kayla remained frozen, the sound of her heart pounding in her ears seeming to be trying to drown out the sound of the man who was obviously trying to talk to her. Perhaps she should respond, keep him away from her if at all possible. "I'm fine, just got turned around." Her voice however seemed to betray her, because at least to her ears it sounded strained and forced. The fact she felt like she still had yet to get any actual sleep did not help the situation any. Apparently the man who'd found her picked up on it as well.

"Are you sure?" h pressed the issue a note of concern lacing his words. He couldn't see her clearly due to the low lighting and the dark of night, but she didn't look all that well at first glance. Perhaps it was the darkness, but the cold that caused her shivering was obvious. He wanted to help her, and could clearly see she needed it, but if she continued to refuse him there was little he could do.

"…so….cold….in…June…" Kayla muttered reality leaving her over-worked mind. To her this was some elaborate dream that felt so real to her. And, any minute she would wake up only to find out nothing had changed. She would be in her apartment with George not remembering the fine details of this very vivid dream.

The man blinked a confused expression gracing his features for only a moment before realization dawned on him. The girl in front of him was obviously unwell and would be unable to provide him with clear answers to his questions. Perhaps she wasn't well in the head, or simply was not well from exposure, but either way she required help in no shape to refuse it. However, he still approached with caution fear of being struck by this unstable person slowing his steps.

He eventually made it to her, surprised when she didn't run. But, upon closer inspection he could see why. Her hands, which had been gripping the handrails of her wheelchair now hung limply at her sides. Her head seemed to be tilted to one side, and if she hadn't been the wheelchair she probably wouldn't be sitting. Her random incoherent mutterings were the only sign that she had some kind of life and vocal ability in her. He didn't know what to do, but could not bring himself to dump her in some hospital and hope for the best.

Sure they could probably do a lot more for her, but somehow leaving her didn't sit right with him. No, he would have to see if he could get her to go on her own, that would be the only way he could leave her without constantly being worried if he did the right thing or not. With this thought in mind he took command of her wheelchair and took her to the only place he could think of—his place.

When she woke up, he didn't doubt she would be scared, but he would be there to help her through it. He just had to. Apparently she was running from someone or something otherwise she wouldn't be out on the docks in this shape like this. At least he didn't think so based on what little he could see. When he got her home and in better light he could see her a bit more clearly.

Once at home he turned on the living room light and went into the closet and picked up an extra pillow and blanket for the couch. Setting them aside he carefully lifted the girl onto it gasping when he got a good look at her. Aside from being completely out from pure exhaustion, her body was littered with various markings. Most were bruises, some looking more freash then others. Her neck, sholder, arms and legs were covered. Her left foot looked slightly swollen and crushed and he could see dried blood in a few places. He could only wonder what her skin must look like under the shirt and shorts she wore, but he wasn't going to look. At least not now. He just wanted to get her lying down, the rest he could deal with when she woke up, if she woke up before he would have to return to work in the morning. He didn't know how he was going to do it, but he was going to take her with him.

For the first time in a long time, Kayla slept more then four hours during the night. Exhaustion had won out causing her to sleep despite the anxious feeling that gripped her like a vice. It would no doubt return, but any reprieve she had learned long ago was always better then none at all. And, quite frankly it was more than just a little welcomed.

As she opened her eyes some hours later, or perhaps minutes, she couldn't help but feel a little refreshed despite the fact she didn't even remember falling asleep. Though she tended to do so at the oddest times, so when she discovered herself in her clothes lying on a couch in the dark she wasn't the least bit surprised. Though as the reality sunk in she begun to realize it wasn't her couch, and she couldn't help but feel that feeling of panic start to bubble deep inside her trying to cloak her in its grip.

Where was she, and how had she gotten to be there? That feeling got stronger leaving her frozen in place. She was afraid to do anything, but she could sware she could hear her heart pounding in her ears. Should she run? Or should she stay put? Where was her wheelchair? Without it she would have no choice but to stay put. She didn't know where her wheelchair was, and without it she wouldn't make it very far. So it was pointless in her opinion to try. In fact she didn't even know if she could walk. Best to find this out before attempting to move.

Swinging her legs off the couch she stood testing her weight on them. Aside from being rather stiff they appeared to be working alright. At least she wasn't on the floor… yet. Which she took as a good sign. Her feet were stiff, but she was still standing. Taking a deep breath she took a few steps forward to test her balance and the limited use of her legs. On a good day, she could walk, or rather limp short distances, so when she managed to crossed the room with relative ease she considered it to be a good day. However, she froze in her tracks nearly loosing the balance in her legs when the sound of movement from directly above her caught her attention. She apparently wasn't alone. And, why wouldn't she be? She had already had come to the conclusion she wasn't in her apartment, and obviously not even in her complex.

Quickly Kayla scrambled back to the safety of the couch she had been occupying. Her legs suddenly felt like led weights, and now wasn't the time to be taking chances. It was obvious she was in a stranger's home, which didn't help the situation any. Fear gripped her causing her body to freeze in place. What was happening? "You're up." A male voice stated coming down and turning on a light. "Are you okay?

Kayla could barely think much less speak. "More or less." She said after a while. Everything felt so real might as well talk.

"You had me worried there. Thought I was going to have to drop you off in a hospital." The voice said.

All the color drained from her face and Kayla suddenly felt very light-headed. "The only way I would ever willingly go to a hospital was if I knew I was sick and afraid I might die, or I was uncinious." She quipped pointing how much she hated the thought of hospitals in general.

The owner of the voice nodded not sure what to make of the woman sitting on his couch. She appeared to be a lot more open, but he didn't know anything about her. Except she apparently had some use of her legs, how much remained to be unknown to him at the time. Though he didn't know how to approach this woman not sure if she would bite his head off for the slightest little thing.

Kayla blinked trying to figure out what to make of the situation she found herself in. She didn't recognize the voice of the man talking to her, but she had already come to the conclusion she had no idea where she was, or who she found herself with. "Who are you?" She knew she sounded demanding, and perhaps it wasn't her best move, but she couldn't think of a way in which else to put it. If she was going to be in this person's home, she had the right to know to whom she was speaking.

"Harold Lowe, " the speaker spoke as the girl in front of him gave him the oddest look.

If it were possible, Kayla's face lost what remaining color it had her eyes growing wide in shock. Did she hear correctly? Now she knew where she heard the name, but was it the same man? Only one way to find out. "As in Titanic's Fifth officer?"

Harold nodded now his turn to look a bit taken aback by her suddon knowledge. "Yes, one in the same. Titanic sails in two days."

Suddenly a lot of the questions that buzzed in Kayla's head had become answered. She knew where she was, she had an idea of when, but all she needed now were the how and why. With the when and possibly where answered, she felt she could relax slightly from her rather tense position. A lot could easily be explained, though the how and why would have to wait. Logic told her this was a dream, but having the ability to physically feel puzzled her. Was it even possible to feel things in a dream? Or, had she died and been reborn in another time and place? That second thought had come out of no where leaving her to conclude she had been watching way too much Sailor Moon on youtube.

"Want to tell me how you ended up on the docks in the middle of the night?" Harold asked bringing up a subject Kayla hoped to avoid just a little longer.

"If I knew, I would have told you, or would have gone home. Truth is I wasn't even sure where I was. I thought at first I was near the beach." Kayla admitted deciding to be honest for a change. Not that she had anything to hide. Far from it, she defiantly had a lot she probably should be, but wasn't. She honestly couldn't remember. Perhaps she had allowed her sugar to get too low. That would explain the confusion… right…? Generally, but perhaps she blocked a lot out. She didn't even know at this point.

"You mean you don't remember why you were wondering down there?" Harold questioned not quite sure he believed her.

Kayla nodded. "yeah… everything is kind of a blank. I last remember fighting George off… then it was cold… in the middle of summer.

Harold couldn't help but think that perhaps this woman escaped from a hospital, or something. Though based on what he could see it would have to been some time ago. A majority of the markings he could see looked rather fresh, which meant whoever this "George" was, he must have done something to her recently. "Do you have any family or friends I could contact?"

Kayla had to think for a minute. According to history, Titanic sailed from Southhampton on April 10th 1912 nine years before her mother and eight before her father were even born. Which meant she had no friends or even siblings that existed yet. "No… I don't. Just… George, but…."

"…and, he was the one who hurt you?" Harold asked. He was trying to get her story straight, all before he left for work in a few short hours. He didn't know if he could take her with him, and he refused to turn her out on the street with nowhere to go, and no friends or family. He didn't want to accept that her only alternative was possibly returning to that man who had hurt her so deeply.

Kayla gave him a confused look not sure what to think at this point. In all honesty her anger for George's behaviors hadn't dissipated like it normally would have, and she found she didn't miss him nearly as much. But, could she really leave all of what she had ever known behind? Had she already? Though she still wanted to believe this was some bazaar dream and any moment now she would wake up back in her apartment either in bed or on the couch. However, she couldn't shake the feeling no matter how much she wanted this to be some strange dream world it wasn't. She readjusted herself so she was lying on the couch the strength to remain sitting while feeling like a bug under a microscope leaving her.

In all honesty, Harold didn't know what he was going to do with her. As she stretched out in front of him, he could clearly see just how serious it had become. The fear of letting her go, only to find out she had been killed ate at him. Mind set, he was determined to take her with him no matter what the costs. "Try and get a couple more hours sleep, we have an early start in store for us." Harold begun not sure how to break the news. ."You're going on the grandest ship in the world bound New York"