Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the movie that this fanfiction was written for, nor do I own any of the characters recognizable from it (however Aoife, Niamh, Saorise, Margaret and Fiona are mine), and I mean absolutley no offense to any of the actual crew and/or passengers of the Titanic.

Summary: Not in my wildest dreams or most horrifying nightmares could I have imagined the journey that awaited me when I first boarded the grand ship Titanic. In a matter of days my whole world was turned inside out and on its ear, never to be the same again. Never before had I felt so many emotions in such a short period of time; fear, sorrow and despair, and yet comradery, friendship, and even love. So quickly this new life was given to me, and just as quickly it was taken away.

Author's Note: Special thanks to ShadowsLight91 and Saphiranna for their excellent beta-reading skills.

Pronounciation Guide: Aoife is pronounced "Ee-fa", Niamh is "Nee-v" and Saoirse is "Seer-sha".

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always appreciated. .

April 5th, 1912 – 6:40am

I stood on that chilly mornin' in South Hampton outside the White Star Line shipyard... well, illegally inside it if I can be honest, leanin' against the cold brick wall of one of the tall buildings scattered across the long stretch of land. 'Illegally' is a harsh word, really; 'unwantedly' perhaps would be a better way of wordin' it. I saw no problem with my being there; I wasn't hurtin' anyone nor was I there to make mischief. But that mornin' when I'd risen to hear my Aunt Margaret talking about how the grand ship Titanic had made berth during the night, there was no way I was goin' to miss seein' it.

As I looked up at it that mornin', there was no doubt in my mind that it was as superb as the papers said it was; the largest ship ever built, the ship that couldn't be sunk. Famous before it had even made its maiden voyage across the sea. And it was right there before my very eyes.

The girls back home would never believe me when I told them of its grandeur, even after just seein' it from so far away. The way its black and red smoke stacks raised into the air, almost regally… a stark contrast to the pinkish colour of the early mornin' sky. If my eyes weren't deceivin' me, it almost shimmered as the first rays of light played upon its white rails, the sun reflectin' beautifully off the portholes.

Listen to me! Goin' on about it as if it were some man I was fawnin' over. It was just a hunk of metal after all...

Ah, who am I kiddin'? It was so much more than that. I had seen ships in my time, even been passenger on one large one once, one which took me from Ireland and my family and brought me here to my godforsaken home, if it could be called that, in England. But the Titanic... she was a sight to behold. And to think, in just five days she would be steamin' across the ocean; her lucky passengers hangin' off those white railings, hootin' and hollerin' as they bid their homes and families goodbye for the promisin' shores of America.

A cold breeze which swept down the alley behind me quickly called me back to reality as I observed the people already hard at work in the shipyard. Those dressed in White Star Line uniforms were sprintin' here and there far up on the decks, touchin' up the paint on the railings or cleanin' the portholes in preparation for the big voyage. There were men dressed in workin' clothes loadin' crate upon crate into the hatches of the hull – that bit down there was the hull, wasn't it? I didn't have a clue one way or another about the anatomy of the ship, except that the top half was meant to stay above water and the bottom half below it.

I wrapped my old, ragged shawl tighter around my shoulders as the breeze started to pick up, catchin' stray curls out of my braid and whippin' them into my face. A smile crept to my lips as I wondered to myself what it might be like to go walkin' up those metal walkways and step into that beautiful vessel. I wondered what it would be like to stroll around the decks, to see the coast fadin' fast behind me as Titanic sped me towards America and my family that had migrated there years ago.

I shook my head, and my inner voice almost mockingly reminded me, 'Yer never gonna get on a ship like that, silly girl. Yer auntie, aye, and yer cousin too, but not you. You'll be stuck at home, playin' Cinderella with the other housemaids... Oh Christ!'

I slapped my forehead and looked down at the empty wicker basket at my feet. I hadn't left the house that mornin' to gape and awe at the Titanic... I'd been given my chores for the day, and one of them was to stop by the market to pick up fresh vegetables for my Auntie's dinner that night. God forbid she step out into the market to do her own biddin'...

It was futile for me to wonder why she didn't; such an ornery old woman she was, she simply couldn't be bothered. Ah, the life of the society types!

I bent to pick up the basket and gave Titanic one last, longin' look. Perhaps someday I'd be the one boardin' a ship like that, and ole' Auntie Marge would be the one wishin' and hopin' for a way out of her life.

'What cardinal sin does that fall under?' I wondered to myself as I hurried away. 'Wrath or envy?'

I finally stumbled into my Aunt's painstakingly over-decorated foyer about two hours later, my arms overflowin' with five dresses I'd picked up from the tailor's and a basket filled to the cusp with all manner of vegetables.

"Niamh! Niamh? Saoirse? Anyone?" I called, lookin' around for someone to help me as I used my hip to close the front door behind me.

"Why aren't you coming in the back way?"

I looked up to the top of the staircase to see my cousin Fiona come saunterin' down slowly, apparently none too concerned about my unsteady state.

"Could... Could ye give me a hand there, Fiona?" I asked, still tryin' to hold the heavy basket and the dresses steady. She passed right in front of me on her way to the sittin' room, lookin' offended that I'd even dared to ask.

"Of course not," she scowled. "What do I look like to you, Aoife? A maid?"

She raised a defiant eyebrow at me and before I had the chance to respond –or make it to a clear surface to set the parcels down on, for that matter– the woven basket slipped from my grasp and fell, landin' with a thud on the cherry wood panelin' and sendin' its contents rollin' in all directions across the floor.

"Now you've done it," she scoffed, and walked into the parlour as if nothing had happened. I watched her go, disbelievin'.

"Don't look so surprised," Saoirse said as she rushed in from the dinin' room, immediately crouchin' down to help me clean up the mess I'd made. "You actually thought she'd lend a hand?"

I shook my head down at the brown-haired girl kneeling before me as she picked up a dilapidated cucumber. "Why should she? It's not like it's her food that's rollin' around on the floor or anythin'." I gave her a wink before I went to set my Aunt's dresses in her bedchamber. When I returned, Niamh, the other housemaid was helpin' Saoirse pick up the last of the vegetables.

"To rinse them or not to rinse them, that is the question." She wriggled her eyebrows at me as she inspected a dented tomato.

I laughed at her usage of one of Mr. Shakespeare's quotes and shook my head. We could be workin' on our feet from dusk till dawn and she'd still manage to find the energy in the evening to curl up with one of his books or plays.

As the three of us headed back towards the kitchen, Saoirse cradlin' the basket of slightly bruised vegetables in her arms, she remarked, "It's not as if we don't keep that floor clean enough to eat off of in the first place."

I nodded my agreement, and grabbed my apron off the back of the kitchen door as we entered.

"Where were ya, Evie?" Niamh questioned me as she propped herself up against the wooden counter. "You've been gone an awful long time."

I shrugged my shoulders as I tied the white strings of the apron behind my back. "Ah, I was detained."

Saoirse snorted from her place at the counter, unloadin' the basket, and Niamh raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What'd you do?!"

I chuckled in response. "Not that kind of detained; distracted, I mean."

"Well say what ya mean, Evie girl. I was picturin' you bein' held in Scotland Yard." Saoirse kept a completely serious face as she said this, but Niamh and I laughed heartily.

I moved to help her start preparin' some of those veggies, but she shook her head at me. "I almost forgot to tell you, Evie, your Aunt wanted to see you in the tea room as soon as you got in."

I grimaced. Nothing good ever came from one of my Auntie's talks.

"It seemed pretty urgent," added Niamh with a quick nod.

With a deep breath, I turned on my heels and headed back out the kitchen door and towards the tea room, mutterin' under my breath for the girls to wish me luck. The last time Aunt Margaret wanted to talk to me, I got a stern tongue lashin' for havin' run off with the son of one of her society friends during a dinner party.

Now before ye get yer mind in the gutter; we didn't do nothin' but talk, but Aunt Marge would hear nothin' of it.

I gently pushed open the door to the tea room at the back of the house, the end that let in the most sun through its large, pristine windows. There she sat in all her glory, wearin' an almost embarrassingly ornate rose-coloured gown, sittin' perched delicately on one of the arm chairs in the corner. I straightened my posture and slowly entered the immaculately decorated room.

I halted just before I reached her and waited for my presence to be acknowledged. I awaited being rebuked for my tardiness or assigned to some menial task for the day. As if I didn't have enough to do, with the laundry list of things she'd instructed me to complete before sundown!

But as I stood there, I noticed that her eyes weren't focused on me. They were starin' out into space, looking at nothin' in particular really, just gazin' at a spot on the floor. I cleared my throat, hopin' to catch her attention. Still, nothin'. I leant forward, notin' the rise and fall of her chest – "Just to be sure", I told myself – and looked at her leathery face. She still didn't acknowledge me.

"Aunt?" I asked finally, takin' another step forward. With that she finally snapped out of her reverie, and turned her face to me, her expression of tranquility fading away to annoyance.

"Are you just getting in?"

Bloody hell! I thought. She tricked me! To think, I was worried about the ole' bat!

I cocked an eyebrow at her, and nodded my head. "Yes, I had a hard time locatin' some of the vegetables you requested for your soup at the market..."

She waved a frail-lookin' hand at me, lookin' disinterested. "Sit down, I need to speak with you."

When I hesitated, she repeated herself.

"Sit down, child."

I complied and took a seat across from her on a stuffy chair, straightenin' my apron on my lap.

When Aunt Margaret opened her mouth, I expected her to get right to the point, but instead I heard, "I thought I told you to throw that ratty thing out!"

I looked down and saw what she was pointin' a bony finger at: my shawl, hangin' loosely now from my elbows. I looked up at her and replied, "It was my mother's, Auntie. You know that. I'll not be gettin' rid of it, thanks."

She muttered somethin' about 'obstinance' under her breath and shifted in her seat. She never was too fond of anything of my mother's, not her shawls nor her children. The two women were so different; my Ma was a kind woman, short in stature but hearty with warm brown eyes and an encouragin' smile. Auntie Margaret however was tall and gangly, what was considered fashionable by all means, with skin so pale she could have been mistaken for a ghost in broad daylight.

Aunt Margaret's thin hand reached up to trace the outline of the ungodly large gem which hung around her neck, as she began to speak. "You know already that your cousin Fiona and I will be traveling to America on the 10th..."

"On Titanic's maiden voyage, of course." I couldn't stop myself from grinnin' as I said it; the vision of the great ocean liner materialized in my mind at the mention of it.

Aunt Margaret didn't look too pleased about having been interrupted but continued on nonetheless. "Niamh will be making the journey with us. Fiona practically insisted upon it; she claims no one can tie a corset quite like Niamh..."

A smile pricked the edges of my lips up. Niamh did have a flare for makin' sure the well-to-do women 'round that house had a hard time breathin' in them corsets. She'd always say that it was her way of evenin' out the universe. But, as happy as I was for Niamh about her gettin' to go to America with my Auntie and my cousin, even if it was just as a maid, I couldn't help but wonder why not me? I had family there, after all...

"... And you have family there, after all."

I couldn't quite decipher whether I had heard my thoughts or my Auntie's voice, they were both sayin' the same thing at the same time. I snapped to attention and asked her to repeat that last bit.

Aunt Margaret was again annoyed at my lack of attention but repeated herself anyway. "What I was saying was that I had planned on Saoirse joining us also, but I thought that perhaps you would be a better choice. You work faster, are less outspoken, and... well, your mother did run off with your brothers there when she dumped you off here with me. This would be a time for you to... reunite with them."

I was completely taken by surprise by my aunt's words, so much that I barely heard the words "dumped you off here with me" and concentrated more on the fact that I was bein' given a chance to go to America!

Aunt Margaret blinked at me and averted her eyes. "Aoife, close your mouth. You look like a trout."

I shook myself out of my stupor and asked, "You... You really mean it? You want to take me to America?"

"Wanting has nothing to do with it. I told you, you're a fast worker, and I can't have anyone dillydallying about. Fiona and I will be in the company of some of the richest, most powerful people in the world, and we must be looking our best at all times. You will cater to our needs, should you choose to accompany us. And, well... I thought that perhaps you might... er... enjoy it." She forced the word 'enjoy' out as if it were poison, but quickly added, "If you don't want to go, fine."

"No no no no no!" I felt as if I were about to burst. "It's not that at all, Auntie! I... I've always wanted to go. I just... don't understand why you're offerin' this to me now…"

With a heavy sigh, she looked at me again, stickin' her nose in the air as she said, "If you would stop being an interruptive nuisance for one single moment, honestly, I could tell you! You are expected to work the same as you are here, to assure that myself and Fiona are properly attended to at all times. There is also a condition which must be adhered to if you are to join us..."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. O'course there was a condition. There was always somethin' with that woman, I'm tellin' ya.

"You will not address me in public as 'Aunt Margaret'. I am to be called Mrs. Addisson in the presence of... well, anyone while aboard that ship. You will also at least pretend to be a proper young woman on our voyage. You will speak, dress, and act like a woman accustomed to serving others."

"Am I not?"

"If I were your employer and not your aunt, I would have released you years ago due to that attitude, Aoife O'Malley. Understood? And it's that attitude that is not to rear its ugly head while we are on the Titanic. Is that clear?"

A small smile crept to my face, but I did my best to hide it. "Yes ma'am."

"Also, I will address you as 'Evie', not Aoife while in public."

I furrowed my brows at her last statement. "Why?"

Aunt Margaret shifted her eyes, and said in a tone of voice that left no room for further discussion, "Because I said so. Now," she continued on, her voice airy and conversational, "if you choose to make the return journey after we've docked in America, that is entirely up to you. If so, yet another ticket will be provided for you..."

My mouth again fell agape, and my brows shot upward. Not come back?! She was givin' me the option of not comin' back? She was basically taking me to America, granted I had to be a good little maidservant on the passage there, but she wasn't insistin' that I return with her?!

It wasn't like I hadn't earned it in my thirteen years of livin' with Aunt Marge and Fiona, while workin' to earn my keep. I had, ten times over! But the more I processed the thought, the more it seemed that there was somethin' terribly amiss with this situation. Aunt Marge, though not all together as bad as I sometimes made her out to be – she had taken me in after all – was not a charitable woman, nor was she someone who would do somethin' kind without the prospect of somethin' in return. Take my goin' to live with her, for example. She wouldn't've done it had I not been an extra pair of hands to help out 'round her house.

I asked her, "Is there somethin' wrong, Auntie?"

"Why do you ask?" She looked uncharacteristically skittish at my question.

"Well..." I thought over my wording carefully. "Not that I don't believe you want a maid... eh... someone to help keep you all fancy lookin' while yer with yer mates," I shied away from the word 'maid'; I didn't have the strength to get into the 'You're not my maid, simply my... helper!' debate with her again. "But... is there somethin' else you need to tell me, about why you want me to accompany you?"

Her eyes looked about ready to pop out of her skull as she exclaimed suddenly, "I attempt to do something kind for you, and you regard me with suspicion?!"

I leant back in my seat, my eyes widenin' at her outburst and said, "No, no, Auntie, I didn't mean that; I just..."

"Have I not done enough for you? Taking you in, putting food in your mouth, putting clothes on your back?"

I arched an eyebrow but decided not to push my luck. "No, Auntie, I'm grateful..."

"Well it isn't as if you try to act like it. Now please... escort yourself out."

"Aunt Margaret..."

"Now!"

I hesitated but stood up. I watched her sit, stone-faced, as I exited the room and closed the door softly behind me. There was definitely somethin' askew with the way she was actin'; there were too many little pieces of the puzzle that weren't fittin'. Why she couldn't have called me by my given name like she always had before? Not once had she ever called me Evie. Or why had she nearly burst when I expressed some doubt about her motives?

I shook my head as I started walkin' back towards the kitchen. I began to shake off Aunt Margaret's odd behavior and let the thought of my impendin' journey wash over my. Somehow, I wasn't able to concentrate on the gnawin' feelin' of suspicion that had risen in my stomach. I was goin' to America on the Titanic, and I was goin' to see my family once I got there to boot! A grin spread over my face as I went to find Niamh and Saoirse to tell them the news.