A/N: Hey everyone! This is my second story, and I'm excited to be writing it. I will continue updating "Escape from Death" while writing this as well.

Another thing I want to mention is this is not a crossover with the movie. I'm going to try and make it as accurate as possible. Enjoy!

April 10, 1912 Southampton, England

"And this is your room, sir."

Arnold Shortman entered his stateroom. It was more extravagant than the one had on the Mauritania. It had wooden wainscoting with ornate wallpaper. The floors were carpeted with intricate designs. In one corner was a decorative, mahogany bed with fresh linens. A small table with chairs stood in the center of the room.

"Marvelous," Arnold said while taking in his surroundings. "Are all first class rooms like this?"

"Yes, sir," the steward replied. "With the exception of the parlor suite rooms. They have several rooms, including a sitting room and a private promenade. It is recommended more for larger parties, sir."

"I see. Regardless, this room will more than suffice."

Just then, there was a knock on a door on the side wall. The steward opened it to reveal Arnold's valet in the adjacent room.

"How are you enjoying your room, Gerald?" Arnold asked.

"Most exquisite, sir," the valet replied. "I have never lived in a more beautiful place, sir."

"Very good." Arnold turned his attention to the steward. "You may leave now."

"Yes, sir." The steward bowed and left. Arnold turned towards Gerald.

"You can be yourself, now," he said with a grin.

Gerald let out a sigh of relief and relaxed his shoulders. "I'd thought he never leave. It's hard being so proper."

Arnold chuckled. "I know what you mean, but you must do what you can to help your family. How are they doing, by the way?"

"They're doing very well. They appreciate you and your family for giving me this position. They have been able to keep their house and my mother and sister no longer need to work in the factories."

"Good to hear," Arnold said. "The factories are not suitable for workers. I have seen firsthand what can happen there, and I must say, it is quite horrifying how they're treated."

"God damn! How long is this piece of metal?" a voice boomed in the hallway. Arnold groaned, immediately recognizing the owner. "I'm not paying good money to get a workout!"

"I guess the Pataki's will be on board, as well," Gerald stated, rolling his eyes. Arnold nodded as he sat down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm guessing that means his wife and youngest daughter are accompanying him?"

Arnold's heart fluttered at the mention of the youngest Pataki. He looked up at Gerald, trying to maintain his composure. "It would be surprising if they weren't."

"Just perfect," Gerald scoffed. He began to pace around the stateroom in a huff. "Not only do we have to deal with the rudest millionaire known to man, but we have to deal with her daughter, the biting shrew!"

"She's not all bad, Gerald," Arnold reassured. "I know there is some good in her."

"You appear to be the only one who believes that," Gerald commented, stopping in his tracks to look at his employer. "Honestly, Arnold, the whole family is dysfunctional! The man's a brute; the wife's is a blatant alcoholic, not matter what they want to say. The elder daughter lives in her own little world, and to top it all off, Helga has a sword for a tongue!"

"Gerald," Arnold stood up and stared sternly at his friend. To say he was annoyed about the situation was an understatement. "I will not have you speak in that manner about Miss Pataki. No matter how she may act, she is above your position, and therefore, demands respect."

"Yes, sir," Gerald muttered sarcastically. He knew he was in a better position than most people in the same occupation. He had an employer who was compassionate to his staff and their families. Overall, Arnold was a good man to everyone. On the other hand, Arnold always seemed to run to the shrews' defense, and it had Gerald wondering if there was something more. "If I may be bold to ask, are you sure you don't fancy her? You always appear to come to her aid whenever someone says anything negatively about her."

Arnold was unsure how to answer. He has never told anyone his feelings towards her. It wasn't so much that he worried how others would perceive it, but rather if she would accept him. But Gerald's opinion meant a lot to him, too, and Arnold knew how much Gerald abhorred her. Simply put, Arnold didn't feel comfortable talking about it to his valet and confidant.

In general, Arnold never liked when anyone would talk badly about a woman, but he absolutely detested when someone would gossip about the young Pataki girl. It wasn't her fault who her parents were. Sure, she would be blunt, maybe even offensive, but he knew there was something special about her. Something he found stimulating.

"Let's go to the boat deck and watch the ship sail off," Arnold suggested, trying to switch topics.

Gerald knew something was going on. He had an inkling, but he didn't want to push his luck. On rare occasions he has seen Arnold get mad, and he certainly did not want to be on the receiving end of that rage. "Yes, sir," he replied, appeasing Arnold.

The two gentlemen walked out of the room and into the corridor. They walked past several rooms when they came across a petite maid carrying multiple boxes. Arnold saw who it was and softly smiled.

"Pardon me," the maid squeaked, not seeing who was in front of her.

"My apologies, Phoebe," Arnold replied, catching a box that was about to fall to the ground.

"Thank you, sir," Phoebe replied. She followed the hand that held the box to its owner's face and gasped. "Mr. Shortman! I was unaware you were going to be onboard."

"It was a last minute decision," Arnold explained. "Business called for me to return to New York, and this was the first ship heading that way."

"I understand, sir," Phoebe nodded. Then she saw the man standing next to Arnold and her face lit up with joy. "Hello, Gerald. It's lovely to see you again."

"The pleasure is all mine," Gerald bowed. Phoebe giggled at the gesture. "I am certain we will be seeing more of each other the next few days."

"I'm sure we are," Phoebe agreed. The weight of the boxes seemed to be getting heavier as time went on. "If you excuse me, I have to get these boxes to Miss Helga's room before they all fall to the floor."

"Miss Helga is here?" Arnold asked a little too enthusiastically. His reaction had taken the two servants aback, but they both had an idea of why he did.

"Yes, sir," Phoebe replied. "She is staying with her parents and sister in one of the parlor suite rooms. I believe she will be on deck later of for the departure."

"Will you be up there?" Gerald asked.

"Miss Helga is allowing me to roam the halls and explore once I finish," she explained. She wanted to stay, but she could barely hold on to the boxes anymore. "Excuse me." She passed by them and headed for the parlor suite. Gerald looked back at her and had a goofy grin on his face. Arnold took notice of this and concocted a plan.

"Gerald, I believe that Phoebe will need some help navigating around the ship," Arnold suggested. "I ask that you accompany her and help her find her way."

Gerald looked at him in confusion. Arnold knew Phoebe was smart and that she would find her way around the ship faster than he ever could. But he was not going to miss an opportunity to be around Phoebe.

"If that is what you request, sir," Gerald answered. He gave a slight bow and headed towards the Pataki stateroom. Arnold shook his head in amusement and headed towards the deck.

"Can you believe the way he was acting? I swear, people would believe we are stowaways in fancy clothes."

Helga Pataki sat at her vanity with her head in her hands. Her head was pounding after her father's outburst earlier. Even though they were frequent, it didn't change how embarrassing it was to have everyone look at them like they belong in an asylum.

"I may have some information that might make you feel better," the maid said with an invisible smirk on her face.

Helga looked at her, doubting anything she said could possibly make her feel better. "What is it, Phoebe?"

"I was fetching some more of your wardrobe when I saw Mr. Shortman with his valet," Phoebe tried to hide her giddiness. "Apparently, he is needed back in America and bought a last minute ticket."

Helga's eyes widened. "Arnold is on the ship?" Her heartbeat increased and she almost swooned before shaking her head. "Why would I possibly care if he is on board? How is this news supposed to make me feel better?"

"I'm sorry, miss," Phoebe said. She chuckled to herself, knowing that Helga was thrilled about this news. Phoebe knew of her affection towards Arnold, and she could see that Arnold had some fondness for Helga. It was quite frustrating that they insisted on hiding it from one another.

"It's quite all right," Helga waved off, adjusting her hat so it was slightly skewed. "And I told you countless times to call me Helga when we are alone."

"Right, sorry mi- Helga," Phoebe corrected herself.

"Do you know where my mother is?" Helga asked, abruptly changing topics. Phoebe knew she was finished discussing Arnold, but not because Helga was tired of talking about Arnold. She was fearful of admitting her true feelings. And so, Phoebe followed her employers' silent command.

"I'm afraid she's already passed out on the bed," Phoebe admitted. Miriam managed to drink a whole bottle of gin before boarding the ship. It was not uncommon that Miriam would drink herself to sleep, but starting this early in the day was ridiculous.

"Of course she is," Helga sighed, rubbing her temples. "I guess we will just have to tell everyone she is sick. Again."

"Of course, Helga."

Helga stood up. "Well, I'm bored here. I'm going to leave before Olga comes in, crying about how wonderful everything is. Or Bob starts complaining about how the parlor suite is too small. You have been excused to do as you please."

"Thank you, Helga." Phoebe followed. The moment they stepped outside, they ran into Gerald.

"Hello, Miss Pataki," Gerald managed to choke out. "Mr. Shortman requested that I escort Phoebe around the ship to help her to navigate her way."

"He did, did he?" Helga smirked. Although she couldn't stand Arnold's valet, it was obvious that the two servants fancied one another. "Well, if that is what Mr. Shortman requested, then I will not be the one to get you into trouble."

"Thank you, miss," Gerald replied, giving a slight, stiff bow. He extended his elbow to Phoebe, who wrapped her arm around it. As they walked off together, Helga stifled a chuckle and left before anyone from her family could spot her.

"Nadine, be careful with that! It's very expensive!"

"Sorry, Miss Lloyd." Nadine came into the room carrying multiple hat boxes stacked on top of one another, obstructing her view.

"If anything is destroyed, it is coming out of your wages!" Rhonda screeched. She took her hat off and placed it on the vanity. She looked around her elegant room, and she was less than impressed with what she had.

"Yes, miss." Carefully, she sat the hat boxes down on the table, without any of them falling.

"Now, go help with Miss Sawyer's belongings," Rhonda waved her away. "When you are finished, come back and put mine away."

"Yes, miss." While it would make sense to finish in this room before going to the next, Nadine knew better than to question her employer's demands. She curtsied and left the room.

Rhonda looked around in disgust. "I guess it will have to do," she muttered. "I don't understand why it has to be so small." She waited a few minutes before opening the door to her suite room. She stalked the hallway before she found a handsome steward exiting one of the rooms. She found her most recent prey.

"Excuse me, can you come here?" she asked politely.

"Yes, miss," the steward obliged, entering her room. She closed the door behind them and had him sit in one of the chairs. Rhonda sat next to him, with a mischievous look on her face.

"My name is Rhonda Wellington Lloyd," she introduced. "My father is a very wealthy business owner currently living in New York. He has given me £400 for this trip, and you are how I want to spend it."

The steward looked at her confusingly. "I'm sorry, miss, I don't understand."

"I'm looking for a young man to accompany me whenever I desire," Rhonda explained while looking at the table, attempting to be coy. She then looked up to the steward. "I am offering this position to you."

The steward had a state of shock on his face. He was absolutely flabbergasted by her request. "Miss, I don't believe this is appropriate. I am merely but a steward."

"I know the money I am offering you can change your life," Rhonda persuaded. "You can go into any job you desire, or repay a debt if you have one. It is entirely up to you. Just know this will be for only the duration of the trip and there must be discretion."

The steward pondered for a moment. Never before had a woman, especially one as beautiful as Rhonda, offer money for his company. Then he thought of the money. It was more than he made a year on the White Star Line. He could certainly use it. He would be risking his career, but that amount of money was worth it.

"I am at your service, miss," he bowed his head, smiling a gorgeous smile at her.

"Splendid!" she beamed. "You shall receive your money at the end of the trip. What is your name?"

"Thaddeus Gammelthorpe, miss," he answered. "But most people call me Curly."

"What a unique name," Rhonda said. Just then, there was a knock on the door. Thaddeus stood up immediately and opened the door. A redheaded woman entered the room, ignoring the steward.

"Rhonda, I have some oh so wonderful news!" she squealed. "I just ran into Olga Pataki and she invited us both to luncheon with her."

"Wonderful indeed, Lila," Rhonda agreed. Her attention went to Curly. "I will let you know if and when I need you again." Curly bowed and left.

"There is just one problem," Lila mentioned, then lowered her voice as if she were afraid anyone would hear her. "Olga asked us to invite Helga if we find her."

Rhonda groaned. If there was one person that she loathed, it was Helga. She couldn't understand how a woman could be so outspoken and rude. "That certainly won't work," she concluded. "We will simply have to find someone else to fit that seat."

"I did see Gerald Johanssen in the corridors," Lila mentioned with a sly grin. "Which means Arnold Shortman is on board."

Lila used to not think much about Arnold until he took over the family's hotel business and inherited the family fortune. Ever since, Lila had been trying to figure out a way to make him hers. The problem was she had never formally met him.

"Is that so?" Rhonda asked. She knew Lila wanted to be with Arnold, and she may now have a way to get them together. "I think I just figured out who can fill that seat."

"I oh so believe you and I are on the same page," Lila grinned, with a glimmer of mischief in her eyes.

"I have to say, going through that health inspection really bites," a tall man complained.

"Boy howdy, that was rough" a shorter man agreed. "But America wants an inspection for all emigrants before entering the country. And I must say, I'm happy about that. The thought of lice on this ship creeps me out." He shuddered at the thought.

"Where's the saloon? I'm hungry!" a larger man whined, causing heads to turn to the trio.

"Harold, you're always hungry," the short man reminded Harold. "Come on, let's go find our room."

The three men traveled through the maze of third class, finally finding their room. Inside was a man with red hair, making his bed on one of the bottom bunks.

"Hi there!" the redhead said. "I'm Eugene Horowitz. I'm originally from Ireland but I've been working in England for the past five years. I think we are going to have such a great trip! Who are all of you?"

The trio looked at Eugene with mouths agape. What had they gotten themselves into?

The tall one was the first to speak. "I'm Stinky Peterson. This is Sid Gifaldi and Harold Berman. We are all from Yorkshire but wanting to go to America to try and make a better life."

"Yeah," said Sid. "We know that it's the land of opportunity and we wanted to get a piece of it."

"Do you have any food? I'm hungry!" Harold complained once again. The other two rolled their eyes while Eugene was taken aback.

"I think I may have some bread and jam," Eugene said. He went to get his suitcase before he tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground. "I'm okay."

"You know what, we're going to just head to the saloon," Sid said, motioning to the door. "Come on, guys."

"Oh, okay, I'll see you later!" Eugene waved from the floor.

The three were down the hallway before someone finally spoke.

"This is going to be a long trip," Sid said.

"I'll say," Harold agreed. "How did we end up with an Irish klutz as a roommate?"

"Do you think this ship has any lemon pudding?" Stinky asked. His two companions stopped and looked at him, trying to figure out where lemon pudding went with the recent conversation. Stinky looked back at them. "What?"

Helga rested her arms on the rail, looking at the docks of Southampton. This will be the last time she will ever see England. She can see the people waving goodbye, but she knew none were directly to her. If anything, England was excited to see her leave.

"Hello, Helga," a male's voice said. Helga looked over to see the object of her affection standing next to her. She decided to try and be polite to him.

"Hello, Arnold," she replied.

Arnold looked at her with concern. "No insulting names? Are you feeling well?"

Helga rolled her eyes. Apparently being polite wasn't going to work. "What do you want, Football Head?"

Arnold smirked at the nickname she had especially for him. He used to be insulted, but he grew to be quite fond of it. "I heard you were on the ship and I wanted to come and say hello."

"Which you have already done, and yet, you're still here," Helga retorted.

"Must you be so difficult?" he asked with a slight hint of playfulness in his voice.

Helga turned to face him directly. "Would you prefer me if I weren't?"

"Not at all," Arnold smiled. Helga's heart was beating rapidly. Did he really like when she spoke like that? Helga smiled back softly.

"Arnold, darling!" The two blondes looked over to see Rhonda walking with another woman. It took every fiber in Helga's body to not groan at the privileged princess. "How good to see you again! I didn't know you were sailing on this ship."

"It was a last minute decision," Arnold explained. He then motioned to the blonde next to him. "I'm sure you remember Helga Pataki."

"Of course. I thought that was your father I heard earlier." Helga scowled. She cursed her father and Rhonda under her breath. But Rhonda wasn't finished. "How is your mother?"

"Sadly, she is feeling under the weather," Helga lied, attempting to keep her voice calm. "Sailing excursions tend to make it worse."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Rhonda said. Helga knew he was lying, but kept her mouth shut. "Silly me, I'm being so rude. Allow me to introduce my traveling companion, Miss Lila Sawyer. Lila, darling, this is Arnold Shortman."

"A pleasure to meet you, Lila," said Arnold, extending his hand out to her.

"Oh, I'm ever so sure the pleasure is mine," Lila chirped in a sickeningly sweet voice, placing her gloved hand in his. "I'm oh so certain we are going to get along well."

Helga rolled her eyes. She knew girls like this. They appear sweet, but she knew to keep them at an arm's distance. Sadly, for someone as polite as Arnold, she knew Lila was going to crush him.

"Arnold, dear, would you honor us with the pleasure of accompanying us to luncheon when we sail away?" Rhonda asked. "Olga Pataki will be joining us as well, and I'm sure she would love to see you again."

"Um, sure, I guess," Arnold fumbled. He really didn't want to, but his upbringing prevented him from saying no.

"Marvelous! We shall see you then." The two girls walked away. Arnold sighed in relief. Helga giggled at him.

"What's so funny?" he asked, still flustered at what happened.

"You are," Helga replied, trying to hold back any remaining laughter. "You looked as if she was handing you a death sentence. Although, you are also dining with my sister, so it might as well be one."

"Why do you dislike your sister so much?" Arnold asked. He heard Helga talk about Olga before, and she never had anything positive to say.

"I don't dislike her," Helga defended. "I dislike what she represents. Women like her insist on being perfect and happy all the time, and that isn't life. If everything were perfect, it would be boring. Sometimes, it's the imperfect parts that are the most beautiful."

"That is so poetic, Helga," Arnold said in awe. Never before had he heard a woman talk that way. He liked it.

"I've had some practice," she said nonchalantly. He was just about to ask her how when the ship's horn blared, indicating the departure from the dock.

"Well, I guess this is farewell to England," Arnold said, waving to the people below.

"And hello to sailing on the Titanic."