Disclaimer: I don't own anything from the movie 'Titanic'

Chapter 1:

I stepped out of the carriage, staring up at the most massive thing I had ever seen in my entire life.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania."

Typical Rose. Never impressed.

Cal smiled. "You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about Titanic."

Rose pursed her lips slightly, turning back to the ship and examining it as she walked forward.

"It's over 100 feet longer than the Mauretania...and far more luxurious," Cal finished, helping my mother out of the carriage.

I walked alongside Rose. "Well, I'm quite impressed. It's massive, Rose."

Rose still didn't change her firm ideal. "Sure."

Our mother walked up beside me and we all walked toward the ship together, boarding with ease.

I looked up longer than I realized, and by the time we entered inside, my neck was already hurting. But I couldn't get over it. The ship was huge. The concept that it would float on water had be baffled and far more impressed than Rose would be with anything in her whole life.

I sighed when I stepped inside the well-lit, very luxurious deck.

England was lovely, but it was time to go home.

"Would you like any tea, miss?"

I smiled. "I'm quite fine, Trudy, thank you."

She nodded, continuing to help my sister unpack all of her things. "Was it this one?"

"No," Rose said softly, scanning through all of her paintings. "It had a lot of faces on it." She pulled out another one. "This is the one."

I looked at the painting, appreciating the art. "It's truly lovely, Rose."

She smiled at me over her shoulder. "Isn't it?"

I swore that those paintings she collected were the only thing that made her smile.

"Would you like all of them out, miss?" One of the maids asked.

"Yes. We need a little color in this room."

"I agree." I stood, walking over to one of the paintings and holding it up to the wall to see for sizing and what not.

"God, not those finger paintings again," Cal said, making his presence known. "They certainly were a waste of money."

"I think they're beautiful," I said quietly, knowing not to test anyone.

Rose sent a thankful smile my way. "The difference between Cal taste in art and mine is that I have some," She said in her soft-tone, not making it sound like a biting remark as her eyes were trained on the painting. "They're fascinating. Like being inside a dream or something. There's truth but no logic."

"What's the artist name?" A maid asked.

"Something Picasso."

Cal scoffed. "Something Picasso. He won't amount to a thing."

Rose shook her head lightly, walking into the other room with her paintings.

Cal pointed to me. "He won't. Trust me."

I nodded politely.

Dinner passed by so quickly. I was tired and didn't talk much. Rose and I mostly stayed quiet, only spoke when spoken to, never out of air. It was quite boring and I was ready for a good nights sleep. I even slept in until later than I should've the next morning, earning mother's glare the whole morning until she gave up in the afternoon.

I tapped my leg on the ground at the table. We had been aboard a full day and I had barely seen anything except the inside of the ship - which was not what I desired, but what I had to endure, and mostly likely what I would for a long, long while.

But we were having lunch with the shipbuilder and another man who I didn't care for, and we could not pass it up. So my mother, Rose, Cal, and my new favourite person, Molly Brown sat down for lunch together.

"She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in history," The man said, gesturing to the kind-looking man sitting across from Rose. "And our master shipbuilder, Mr. Andrews here...designed her from the keel plates up."

Mr. Andrews tried to maintain modestly. "I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's." He smiled a handsome smile. "He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale and so luxurious in its appointments that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is -" He tapped the table. "Willed into solid reality."

"Here, here."

The waiter came along, taking everyone's orders. In the mean time, Rose picked up a smoke.

I watched as my mother leaned close to Rose, holding back a snarl. "You know I don't like that, Rose."

Rose challenged her, blowing the smoke out.

"She knows," Cal said, taking the cigarette and putting it out.

I looked back into my lap, coughing rather awkwardly.

"The three of us will have the lamb," Cal said, looking at me. "Rare with very little mint sauce."

I nodded.

Cal smacked his lips, looking at Rose. "You like lamb, right, sweet pea?"

Rose put on a smile.

"You gonna cut her meat for her too there, Cal?" Molly asked, making me curl my lips to hold back a smile. She looked over at me, catching my discretion and chuckling. "Hey, uh, who thought of the name Titanic? Was it you, Bruce?"

Mr. Ismay didn't maintain modesty. "Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability...luxury, and above all, strength."

"Do you know of Dr. Freud, Mr. Ismay?" Rose asked, making all eyes snap to her. "His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you."

Molly smiled, Mr. Andrews started to laugh, and I covered my mouth just in time to disguise my laughter as a cough.

"What's gotten into you?" My mother asked Rose.

"Excuse me," Rose said quickly, standing and walking out.

"I do apologize," My mother said.

"She's a pistol, Cal," Molly mentioned. "Hope you can handle her."

Cal didn't find that so amusing. "Well, I may have to start minding what she reads from now on, won't I, Mrs. Brown?"

"Freud? Who is he? Is he a passenger?"

I had to leave to table before I almost laughed again. I put my napkin on the table. "Excuse me." I stood quickly, making my way out, finding Rose leaning over the deck that looked out onto another deck that looked out on the beautiful ocean.

I tucked a couple of my red, curly strands behind my ears, walking up to her and leaning beside her. "It's so wonderful, isn't it?"

Rose sighed heavily. "I can't do it anymore, Anna."

I put my hand on her back, trying to comfort her. Despite being younger, I was always doing that; comforting her and her wild ways. "You know that we don't have a choice. It's Cal or we say goodbye to everything we have. You are the only thing that is keeping mother from falling apart, Rose. You're the only thing holding us together."

"It's not fair."

I stopped rubbing her back, placing my hand on the railing and giving her a hard look. "Life is unfair, Rose. That's never going to change. You will never get to take off your shoes or pull up your dress. You will never be able to voice your opinion without your husbands approval and you will never be able to feel free. It's just the way life is."

Rose's head snapped to mine. "And you're just going to let it be?"

"I know better than to wish for something that will never happen. I know my place. You should know yours."

Rose's hardening glance slipped past me, and her eyes stayed there.

I turned around, spotting three young, obviously poor men standing on the deck below us, staring up at the both of us. One of them - the one standing and leaning on the railing, smoke in between his long fingers - he looked up at me, making me feel suddenly warm. My brows furrowed. "How rude." I turned away quickly, trying to too pay much attention to them.

Cal came storming out, grabbing Rose's arm.

I walked back into the lunching room, knowing that I shouldn't have been listening in on the private matter.

Everything I said to Rose was true. I wished it wasn't. I wished we could've done all of those things, and what I said about not wishing for it was a blatant lie. I wished for it everyday. I prayed for it every night. I hated the same daily routine, the same people, the same conversations, the same thing every moment of my life. I couldn't stand it anymore, but I would because I had to.

So I went to dinner and I sat through the mindless chatter, and when it was over, Rose bolted for the ladies room like no other, leaving me behind with our mother.

"Annabelle..."

"Yes, mother?"

"I've been meaning to speak without about tour schedule once we get to New York."

I nodded; trying my hardest to pay attention to what I knew would be another boring conversation.

"There will be many men waiting in New York...many rich men."

I held in a sigh. "Mother, I wish not to do so."

"You will, Annabelle." Her hard gaze on me.

I tried not to glare, nodding stiffly. "Of course."

A man came running up to us. "Mrs. Bukater, it's your daughter Rose, she has been attacked -"

"Attacked?" I asked quickly. "Lead the way."

We ran out to the back of the ship, finding Rose wrapped up in a warm blanking, sitting down on the bench and shaking like a leaf. Also, a young man - one of them who was staring at us earlier - being cuffed by the master of arms.

"You -" I started forward, my dainty finger pointed at the man.

Rose grabbed my arm, shaking her head.

I kneeled beside her, holding her cold hand in mind. "What is it?"

"This is completely unacceptable!" Cal went on. "What made you think you could put your hands on my fiancée?!" Cal grabbed him by the collar. "Look at me, you filth!"

"Cal," Rose tried.

"What did you think -"

"Cal, stop. It was an accident."

That made Cal stop. And me. What was she talking about?

"An accident?" I asked.

Rose nodded toward me, then looking back at Cal. "It was. Stupid, really. I was leaning over and I slipped. I was leaning far over to see the, uh..., uh, uh, the uh..." Rose made a spinning motion with her hands, trying to find her words.

"Propellers?" Cal answered quietly, seeming just as confused.

"Propellers, and I slipped. And I would have gone overboard but Mr. Dawson here saved me. And almost went over himself."

"You wanted to see..." Cal started, not sounding too impressed before smiling out at everyone. "She wanted to see the propellers."

One of the men standing around coughed. "Like I said, women and machinery do not mix."

The master of arms turned Mr. Dawson toward him. "Was that the way of it?"

Mr. Dawson took to long to answer, but eventually nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, that was pretty much it."

"Well, the boy's a hero, then," Mr. Gracie said. "Good for you, son. Well done. So it's all is well and back to our brandy, eh?"

Cal put his arm around Rose, walking her away and I followed.

"Perhaps a little something for the boy," Mr. Gracie mentioned.

Cal stopped with Rose, hesitating like he didn't want to. "Of course. Mr. Lovejoy, I think a 20 should do it."

Rose chuckled, but not humorously. "Is that the going rate for saving the woman you love?"

Cal narrowed his eyes at her. "Rose is displeased. What to do? I know." Cal smirked, walking closer to Jack, but not too close. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening to regale our group of your heroic tale."

Mr. Dawson nodded, brows knotted together. "Sure. Count me in."

"Good." Cal smiled. "It's settled then." He turned back to use, snidely saying to Mr. Gracie, "This should be interesting."

I sealed my mouth, turing around and making our way back to our cabins.

I knocked on the door. "Rose."

"Come in."

I walked inside, sitting down behind Rose as she looked into the mirror at her vanity. "Rose...what really happened on the deck?"

She looked at me through the mirror. "Promise not to tell?"

I smiled lightly, holding out my pinky.

She spun around on her seat, wrapping her pinky around mine, then sighing. "I was hanging over to edge and he helped me up."

I nearly gasped. "Rose, you could've gotten yourself killed!"

"Ssh!" Rose hushed me.

"Why were you doing that in the first place?"

I saw her shoulder slump. "I don't have the slightest of clues, Anna. I must've gone crazy."

I switched seats to sit next to her on her stool, wrapping my arms around her. "I'm sorry for everything I said earlier. I didn't mean any of it."

"I know." She hugged me tightly.

"You know that I am always on your side, Rose. Always."

"And me on yours," She said, leaning away and holding out her pinky. "Always."

I smiled, wrapping my pinky around hers for the second time. "Always."