The docks milled about with people- poor, rich, foreign, local, women, children, men- and even some pets. Crates, cars and luggage added to the mess as passengers tried to make sense of the chaos.

Clara Reynolds sat in the cab of the car, watching the scene outside and scribbling notes into the journal on her lap. A stray blonde hair fell from its updo and hung in front of her face, only to be tucked behind her ear.

The car door opened quickly and the gray-haired driver offered a hand to help her out. "The luggage is all unloaded and ready to board, miss. Your aunt is waiting for you."

Clara graciously accepted his hand and stepped out of the car, fixing her hat when two feet were on the ground. A shadow loomed above; Clara looked up to see the RMS Titanic itself standing over her. She inspected the ship. The four smoke stacks were already billowing with gray clouds, ready to get a move on. Its sides were composed of steel from Reynolds Steel Incorporated. Despite the family obligation, Clara found the ship rather ugly. Titanic was painted a dismal black, white and red.

"Well ain't this a fine specimen?"

Clara turned to see her aunt, Molly Brown, join her. Clara snorted, "I wouldn't exactly say fine. Or specimen."

Molly laughed, "Not with that writer's mind you wouldn't. You'd come up with something better. Don't be too cynical now. If your parents catch on, they'll say you spend too much time with me."

Clara smiled, finally lightening up, "I could never spend too much time with you."

In fact, they had only spent a few days together. Molly had been vacationing across Europe when she caught word of her niece's boarding school dismissing early for the summer. She insisted on taking Clara back to Philadelphia to return to her parents.

That's what they think, Clara thought, clutching her journal to her chest. She planned on ditching the train ride from New York to Philadelphia and instead pursue a career as a reporter. Female reporters were slowly gaining more traction in the newspaper world, and Clara was anxious to join them.

Somewhere on the vast ship, a horn signaled an hour left before departure. Clara and Molly hurried onto Titanic, straight past the health inspector where the last leg of third class was standing.

Molly and Clara's staterooms were located on the starboard side of the ship, with windows looking out to the docks below. Clara stood by the window and she could perfectly see the second and third class decks. She took notes, observing the children kicking around a cloth ball, women holding babies and sitting on benches, and men smoking fat cigars.

"You'll have a better view if you go outside," Molly said from the doorway. "What're you writing down anyway?"

Clara closed her notebook mid-sentence. "Nothing."

Molly made an unconvinced hum. "You unpack. I've got to go figure out a luggage issue."

"We don't have all our things?"

"No, all of ours are here. But a bag that isn't ours was delivered." Molly nodded toward the bag in question.

"What's the name?"

"Can't read it."

Clara inspected the tag. The handwritten name was sloppy and smudged, but she could sort of make it out. "Something Ryan. Looks like Reynolds. That must've been the mix up." By the looks of the bag- dirty and weather-worn- it definitely didn't belong in first class. Clara's face lit up. "I'll return it."

Molly raised an eyebrow. "You know this something Ryan?"

"No… but I want to explore the ship. Didn't you say I should go outside?"

Molly gave in. "All right. But we have lunch with the Dewitt-Bukaters a half hour after we depart. Be back by then."

"Rose is here?"

Molly nodded, smiling as Clara squealed at the thought of seeing her childhood friend.

Clara weaved through people as she tried to find the owner of the bag. She ruled out first class as an option and headed straight for the lower decks. Odd looks were thrown her way as she made her way through the halls. Not that she couldn't see why, being a well-dressed woman carrying a ratty bag, but she did her best move quickly.

Clara was used to being the recipient of judgmental looks anyway. She was a young and healthy eighteen-year-old woman, came from a wealthy family and had a proper education, so why wasn't she married? There must be something wrong with her. It wasn't that she wasn't pretty; "the blondes go first," her mother used to say. Instead of waiting around for a suitor to find her, she convinced her parents to send her to boarding school in England where she could "really learn to become a lady and a wife." When really, Clara just wanted a chance to see more than what Pennsylvania could offer. Clara had met quite a few charming European men while abroad, but nothing equated to more than a few outings, chaste kisses and flirtatious looks across the room.

The officers in second class were polite enough to check their passenger list. No Ryan there. Clara sighed, third class it was, and she made her way down to F and G Decks.

If she didn't stand out in first class, she was a sore thumb in third. Eyebrows raised and comments were whispered.

Here goes nothing, she thought as she tapped a man's shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. Can you-"

The man interrupted her in quick Italian and Clara realized he couldn't understand her. And vice versa. Her cheeks flared red and she looked around. She couldn't tell who did or didn't speak English. Not the best idea, she thought.

"Need help, lass?" someone from behind asked.

Clara turned to see a man raising an eyebrow. He wore a bowler hat on a head of brown curls and a cigarette flicked between his lips.

"You speak English?"

"With a hint of Irish." He smiled and sure enough, spoke in a thick Irish accent.

Clara sighed in relief, "Thank goodness. A bag was delivered to my room and it isn't mine."

"Happy to help, lass." He stretched a hand out. "Tommy Ryan."

Clara's eyes widened. "It's you!" Tommy gave her a weird look and she shook her head. "Sorry. I mean," Clara quickly shook his hand, "Clara Reynolds."

Tommy squeezed her hand. "What did you say before?"

"I just meant, it's you. On the tag." She motioned toward the luggage.

Tommy raised an eyebrow and looked at the tag. "No kidding. Didn't even realize I lost my only thing."

"You don't have another suitcase?"

"You're not from around here, are you?"

"Is it obvious?"

Tommy and Clara exchanged a smile. A horn blasted from a deck above them. Clara took that as the signal for lunch. "I should go."

Tommy nodded. "Thanks for returning my bag. Have a good sail, Clara."

"You too." Clara smiled, politely excusing herself and heading back to her deck. She made careful note on how to get back down, though. There was too much on the lower decks not to write about.

Tommy watched Clara go. He tried not to be too disappointed in realizing he'd likely never see her again. She had one reason for coming down to the lower decks, and now that it was taken care of she was probably returning to her fiance, laughing about how he only had one piece of luggage and he was an Irishman for goodness' sake. Tommy took a long drag of his cigarette. At least he could take comfort in knowing her fiance wouldn't have been bothered to look through his third class clothing. Tommy sighed, wishing her well.

Clara hurried back to the A Deck, debating with herself if she ought to change before lunch. She was already late, but changing would delay her even more. Plus Molly had told her specifically to be on time. Clara looked down at her outfit; it was the same thing she'd been wearing all day while traveling. It was a pretty dress, though, and she hadn't mussed it up too badly. Yet. She decided to continue for the dining room.

Fortunately, it seemed that Molly had just met up with the Ruth and Rose Dewitt-Bukater, so Clara's tardiness was hardly noticed. She caught Rose's eyes and the two young women rushed to hug each other. It had been, what, five years since the two had spent time together? While they had brief passings at various galas and fundraisers back home, all too soon Clara moved abroad and suddenly the communication ceased.

"How was your time at school? I'm sure it was wonderful getting a chance to learn away from home," Rose asked.

"It was magnificent! I hadn't realized the history behind it before I got there. It's where the royal family has sent all their daughters before getting married."

The conversation felt fake for what they used to talk about. Clara knew Rose would much rather talk philosophy, literature and art, as would she. But Ruth's careful gaze on the two of them forced them into small talk.

Ruth smirked at Clara. "And is it royal fashion now to wear travel attire while dining?"

"Mother," Rose warned.

Clara ignored the comment and turned the conversation to Rose. "I hear you're engaged now. Who's the unfortunate soul who has to keep up with you?"

Rose stiffened for a moment then forced enthusiasm, "Oh you'll never believe it. Caledon Hockley."

Clara studied Rose's face, trying to find the appropriate response. Cal's father, like Clara's, was a steel industry giant and the two families had known each other for years. They kept up niceties as best as two competing families could. Clara despised Cal, but marrying into his family was a good move for Rose. "Well best wishes to you two."

As if summoning him from the devil himself, Cal arrived and offered an arm to escort Rose. He noticed Clara and gave her a stiff nod. "Ms. Reynolds, I had no idea you would be joining us on this journey."

"Likewise to you. I was just congratulating Rose on your engagement. I'm sure the wedding will be the finest event New York has yet to see." Cal was already walking away with Rose in tow before Clara could finish. Clara glared at the back of his head. The exchange lasted almost as long as the one with Tommy Ryan, and Clara already liked Tommy more than Cal. But that wasn't a difficult feat to master.

Molly nudged Clara and the two of them followed along to their table. They sat with Ruth, Rose and Cal, as well as two other men who had a hand in building the ship, Bruce Ismay and Thomas Andrews. Both men worked closely with Clara's father, so the connection was a nice break from the tension between Rose and her family. The conversation buzzed around the mechanics behind Titanic, all things Clara had heard before. She let her eyes wander the dining room, taking in the fine details of the chandeliers and crown moulding. She caught Ruth's eye, silently lecturing her about tuning out the conversation. Clara fought to roll her eyes. Ruth wasn't her mother. If anyone was out of place it was Molly, having yet to fully understand the subtle dynamics of first class society.

Clara paid minimal attention to the conversation. A waiter came around to take orders, and it was hard to ignore the sour look Rose gave Cal as he ordered for her. Molly moved the conversation back toward the ship, and Ismay explained the reasoning for the name Titanic.

Rose raised an eyebrow, "Are you familiar with Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay? His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you."

Clara coughed into her napkin to hide her laughter. Molly and Mr. Andrews also tried hiding smiles, while Cal and Ruth looked at Rose in horror.

"My God, Rose. What's gotten into you?" Ruth asked.

"Excuse me." Rose abruptly stood up and walked out of the dining room. The table fell awkwardly silent and those at other tables turned to watch her leave. Molly chortled and made a comment about Cal's control over his fiancee. Clara smirked, knowing how little he knew about Rose's spirit.

Clara blotted the corners of her mouth with her napkin and excused herself from the table. Ruth was clearly horrified that she was also leaving until Clara clarified she was checking on Rose.

The first class deck was fairly empty, so Rose was fairly easy to spot leaning against the railing looking over the lower decks.

Clara placed a hand on Rose's shoulder, causing her to jump. She turned with her jaw set, ready for an argument, but she relaxed upon realizing it was Clara. "I thought you were Cal."

"I'll try not to take offense to that."

Rose laughed. "It's good to have a friend here." Clara was positive it was the first time Rose had genuinely smiled while on the ship.

"You mind telling me why you ran out?" Clara asked.

The smile disappeared. "I can't take it, Clara. He's awful. You already know that. But he treats me like I'm his freshly caught game, showing off his trophy to the rest of the world. I can't do it."

Clara nodded, not exactly knowing how to respond. She stole a glance at Rose. Everything about her was so… firm. You could see the sadness in her eyes and the rigid anger in her jaw. "Well I know something you can do." She paused, waiting for a sign to continue. The corner of Rose's mouth twitched upward, and Clara remembered making up stories as a child and telling them to Rose excitedly. She wondered if Rose was thinking that, too. "You can enjoy the time you have unmarried on this ship. I'll help you. It'll be like old times except now we have new places to hide."

"Until my mother finds us and forbids us spend time alone."

"Your mother hates me."

Rose rolled her eyes. "She only hates you because I like you."

The two women burst out laughing. Clara glanced at the decks below. A blond boy sat on a bench with two other men. His friends spoke to each other while he looked up at Clara and, more specifically, Rose. Their laughter must have caught his attention.

"And maybe you'll find someone more worth your while." Clara nudged Rose and gestured to the boy. "Someone like him."

As Rose turned to see him, the other two men looked at the women, too. Rose shook her head. "I could never do that, Clara."

"Why not? What's the difference between a third class fellow and a rat like Cal?" Rose gave Clara a dirty look and ignored the comment. Clara looked back at the men and recognized one of the other two as Tommy Ryan from earlier. He caught her eye and tipped his hat in response. Clara waved back as subtly as she could, but nothing got past Rose.

"Do you know him?" Rose asked.

Clara racked her brain for an explanation. It was embarrassing that Clara went down to the lower decks and although Rose would understand the situation, word would get out and rumors would start. "No… just… I guess they saw us looking at them."

They heard footsteps approaching and glanced back to see Cal. "Oh God," Rose mumbled before remorsefully letting Cal steer her back inside.

Clara made a move to follow, but not before looking back to the lower decks. Tommy grinned, lopsided from trying to keep his cigarette in his mouth. Clara smiled back before walking away. She thinks of her next chance to escape to the lower decks and write, maybe running into a certain Irishman while at it.

A/N: After a looooong time away from dear old FF, I'm back. I recently moved and in that process found a handful of notebooks where I wrote all kinds of scenes for this story and others, so on a quick burst of inspiration I decided to sit down and actually write something. This is my first Titanic story, and I've tweaked the timeline just a bit for the first day. I didn't realize until today that the lunch where Rose and Jack first see each other took place on the second day and I had already written all of this. For the sake of not altering it too much, I kept it as is. I also won't write Tommy's accent. It just gets too hard to keep up with and I'm sure you all can hear it in your head anyway. Hope you enjoy and hopefully this kick of inspiration stays with me for more than just this first chapter.