Hello, dear readers.

Thank you to all those who read and reviewed the previous chapter - and also to those who read only, of course. I sincerely hope you enjoyed it, and that you also enjoy this one.

To reiterate something I said on the previous chapter's opening note, this story is an AU, and as such, some things about it will not be the way they were in James Cameron's movie. Further specifications on that point will be on this chapter's ending note.

Also, I will not repeat my disclaimer, as I already have it on the previous chapter, and with all due respect I find it suffices for the whole story.

Now, let us begin.

Chapter 1 – Arrivals and reflections

Southampton Docks, White Star Dock, Berth 44, April 10th, 11.30 a.m.

Clouds were clustered on the sky overhead, causing most of the sunlight to be barred from the ground below. As a result of that, not only was a noticeable amount of warmth that would be welcome on early April prevented from getting through, but a large shadow had been cast over the area, as if the powers that be intended to decrease the frenzy around the grand ship moored on Berth 44 through a lack of sunlight.

However, by the side of the RMS Titanic, the excitement and the flurry of activity were so intense as if the sky was cloudless and the Sun itself had chosen to cast its brightest light especially for them. People eager to see the ship's departure gathered by, while porters dutifully tended to the passengers' luggage, hopeful that their service would get them some extra income. Motor cars and horse drawn carriages forced the crowds to part, as passengers made their way into the ship through their respective gangways, and the occasional crewman tried to plow his way through to get to the source of his pay.

In the midst of all the activity, a black and white Renault Enclosed Limousine made its way toward the ship, followed by a Daimler-Benz the color of milky coffee with two trunks tied to its back and a plain-looking motor vehicle with its trailer full of luggage.

The cluster of vehicles was given a wide berth by all those who saw it, until it eventually stopped, less than thirty feet away from the Titanic's bow. The drivers slammed the hand-breaks on, and on the Renault, a tall man with an undertaker's dour look on his face, clad in a dark-grey suit and with a black bowler hat perched on his head, stepped down and opened the door, allowing the two maids inside the vehicle to get out – which they had some difficulty doing, thanks to the luggage they were carrying. Meanwhile, on the Renault, the driver's liveried assistant stepped down, opened the door on the car's left side, and held his hand out toward its interior.

From inside the vehicle, a slender hand covered in a white leather glove reached daintily into the assistant's hand. Then, a red-haired woman in a dark-blue two-piece woman's suit stepped out of the car, holding an umbrella of a color that matched the suit's in her right hand. Once outside, the woman – whose name was Rose DeWitt Bukater – stood straight and looked up at the mighty ship from underneath her round wide-brimmed hat, which was of a blue lighter than her suit's, and had a double bow of a blue that matched the suit's around its crown.

At first, Rose grimaced slightly as the strong – and rather unpleasant – smell of fresh paint coming from the ship reached her nose, but as soon as she caught proper sight of the vessel in front of her, her lips parted slightly, and a silent gasp left her mouth. Even though she was twenty-six years old, the sight of the Titanic made her feel a kind of awe she hadn't experienced since her childhood.

She had both read articles about the ship and heard extensive descriptions of it from one of her travelling companions, but it was only now that she got to see it up close that she agreed with one of the epithets given to it by the press: the Ship Of Dreams. With polished black sides, a superstructure as white as snow, and buff-yellow funnels with a black rim at the top rising toward the sky like pillars, the Titanic was a ship that looked more than beautiful enough to have come straight out of a dream. Even the overcast weather could do nothing to mar the vessel's impeccable look.

A slight tapping sound behind her cut off Rose's thoughts, and brought her back to reality more efficiently than a slap.

Feeling a hint of disappointment at being snapped out of her contemplation, Rose carefully composed her expression into one of cool indifference, and forced herself to remember the decision she'd made this morning: that no matter how impressed she was at the ship, she wouldn't let some people know about it.

After being reasonably sure she'd succeeded at her goal, Rose turned around to face her fiancée, Caledon Hockley, a tall man with dark-brown hair, wearing a suit of a similar color, and a matching bowler hat. Like she had done, he was looking at the Titanic, but in addition to the look of awe and wonder on his eyes, there was also a pleased gleam, as though he'd had any sort of role in how the ship had turned out to be.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," Rose said in a cool tone that matched her expression. "It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania."

With a snigger that had hints of both hopelessness and disbelief, Cal – as he was more commonly known – said, "You can be blasé about some things, Rose, but not about Titanic." He slammed his cane into the ground as if to punctuate his sentence, and carried on. "It's over a hundred feet longer than the Mauretania, and far more luxurious. It has a squash court, a Parisian café, a salt water swimming pool, a gymnasium – it even has Turkish baths!"

Rose gave no reply. She was far too used to Cal's tendencies to boasting and exaggeration. And although most of what he'd said matched what she'd read about the ship, he'd exaggerated on at least one thing. The Titanic, at a length of 882 feet and 6 inches, was only 92 feet – and 6 inches, if one wanted to be exact – longer than the Mauretania, which was 790 feet long. Although the difference was considerable, it was not exactly the over a hundred feet Cal had claimed. But had he been deliberately exaggerating, or had he bothered to check the figures to begin with?

Unaware of Rose's thoughts, her fiancé turned his head to the one currently getting out of the car, and held his hand out to help her step down.

"Your daughter is far too difficult to impress, Ruth," he remarked as his future mother-in-law held his hand.

With a quiet laugh, Ruth DeWitt Bukater stepped down onto the ground, subtly smoothed any creases she feared her dark-olive dress may have gotten during the ride, and only then looked at the ship with wide eyes and an even wider smile, her overall expression strangely reminding Rose of what she felt a famished person would look at the sight of a feast.

"So this is the ship they say is unsinkable," she remarked in an approving tone, apparently deeming the vessel grand enough to fit her standards.

Cal gestured with his cane toward the vessel again, and proclaimed like a grand show's host, "It is unsinkable! God Himself could not sink this ship..."

A frown of discomfort started making its way into Rose's face at such a statement. Although she had no doubts about the Titanic's sturdiness, she had always been the sort of person to dislike exaggerations. The Titanic was still a human-made ship, and therefore could have room for errors, the same way it would certainly have room for improvements. But of course, Cal had to act as though his word was the supreme one.

Thankfully, before he could end his sentence in the exact manner he intended to, a raspy voice called, "Sir! Sir!"

Looking around at who had spoken, Rose saw a middle-aged porter approaching them, apparently pleased with himself at having to deal with such regal-looking customers.

Rose silently thanked him for the distraction, even as he informed Cal, "You have to check your baggage through the main terminal. It's 'round that way, sir."

As if that was his cue to practice a well-rehearsed gesture, Cal produced a fiver from the pocket of his dark-brown suit and slammed it into the porter's hand.

"I put my faith in you, good sir," he replied in a definitive manner. "Now kindly see my man."

The porter seemed about to protest, but as soon as he got a proper look at what he held, his eyes widened, and he quickly broke into a wide smile instead.

"Oh yes, sir. My pleasure, sir," the porter started thanking profusely, but Cal just nodded and turned away.

"If I can do anything at all to…" the porter tried to go on, but at that moment, Spicer Lovejoy, Cal's valet – the undertaker look-alike who'd come on the Daimler-Benz – gripped the man's shoulder like a thief pulling a passer-by into a narrow alley, and forcibly turned him around.

"Right," Lovejoy started commanding before the porter could say anything. "All the trunks from that car there, twelve from here, and the safe…" the rest of Lovejoy's instructions were lost as he got too far for Rose to hear him, but her eyes had no problem noticing the almost overwhelmed look on his face as the realization of how much luggage he'd have to deal with hit him.

Apparently, like on everything else, her mother and Cal had to go over the top with the amount of luggage they brought.

But before Rose could even feel sorry for the man, Cal again took her away from her thoughts.

"Ladies, we'd better hurry," Cal said as he snapped the lid of his watch shut and put it back in his pocket.

All too eager to board the vessel, Ruth immediately lead the way toward the gangway through which they were meant to board, but Rose let herself stay where she was, and it was only when Cal offered his elbow that she reached up to take it.

With the deepest breath she could take without calling attention to it, Rose started walking alongside her fiancée after her mother, her umbrella in her free hand. Behind the three of them her maid, Trudy Bolt, and her mother's maid, Alice Roberts, while Lovejoy stayed behind to make sure the luggage was loaded onto the ship.

All around them, everyone Rose could spot seemed utterly taken by the ship. The crowds gathered alongside it stared up in awe as if to get the feeling caused by the sight of it infused into their beings, while the passengers who had already boarded were gathered on the promenade deck of their respective class – easily identifiable by the passengers' clothes – and gazing onto land as if they too wanted to drink in the sight of it as well as possible before leaving. The only exceptions were the first class passengers, of whom there weren't many on deck as of now, as there was still some time before they had to leave, and most of them were certainly trying to get acquainted with the ship in the meantime.

Ever so slowly, the Titanic seemed to grow in front of her eyes – but instead of becoming more eager to be aboard it, Rose found herself wishing she could just detach herself from Cal's arm and turn away from all of this. No matter how beautiful, luxurious, or big the Titanic was, it would be a ship where she couldn't escape the reality of her engagement, which was already looking more of a binding than the marriage of most couples she had met.

Yet again, she wished she'd just had the strength and bravery to turn down Cal when he'd proposed to her, or the stubbornness for not to have been guilt-tripped by her mother into not breaking off the engagement. Even though there had been a time when Rose would have, albeit begrudgingly, accepted to get married to sort out a predicament she and her mother had been going through, that problem was more than solved by now, and both Rose and her mother would have been more than able to live their lives as they wanted if they had so chosen.

But her mother wouldn't have Rose living any life other than the one she'd outlined for her – and whenever Rose had tried to go against that, her mother had always managed to guilt her into remaining tied up.

And now, with Cal as her fiancé, breaking free didn't seem like an option even if her mother suddenly accepted Rose's dreams.

A silent sigh escaped Rose's lips, right as, right ahead of her, her mother finally stepped onto the gangway that would lead them into the Titanic. Upon getting there, Cal stepped onto it himself, and Rose raised her foot to do the same. But before the sole of her shoe could touch down on it, she let her foot hover there, as a sudden hesitation came to her.

Noticing that, Cal stopped as well.

"Sweet pea?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

Rose stayed where she was, her foot still hovering there. Now that she was right by the Ship of Dreams, she couldn't help but to feel that stepping onboard it would lead her into a very bad one.

"Please, don't hold us up," Cal remarked, pulling her forward by her elbow, and causing her to trip on the gangway's edge.

Thankfully, Rose managed to put her umbrella ahead of her to steady her fall. Her hat slipped a little bit on her head, but that was nothing compared to what could have happened if she hadn't managed to stop her fall.

"Are you alright, miss?" she heard Trudy call worriedly from behind the luggage she had in her arms.

With some difficulty, Rose righted herself up, but before she could say anything, Cal replied, "She's fine."

Unable to turn around in an inconspicuous manner to answer the question herself, Rose pushed her hat back on her head, setting it on its proper position. Unfortunately, the gesture caused her to catch sight of her mother, who had turned around to see what the commotion was about.

She didn't seem like she would speak, but Rose effortlessly read the message written in her expression.

"Move along, Rose. It's inappropriate to stand there blocking other people's paths."

Somehow managing to get surprised at her mother having another of the reactions she so much expected, Rose slid her arm back into Cal's elbow, and kept walking up the gangway.

As she did so, two thoughts came into her mind.

The first was that, all of a sudden, the gloomy skies over their heads seemed somewhat more appropriate.

The second was that, even though this was the Ship of Dreams, she already knew her crossing on it wouldn't be exactly dreamlike.

On the port side of the Titanic's forecastle, 11.50 a.m.

His hands clasped behind his back to compose a more proper look of a supervisor, Henry Wilde walked around the area of the ship assigned to him until after the departure, his keen eyes searching for anything out of place or flawed in any manner, or for any crewman who appeared to be sleeping on duty. As much as he hadn't found anything of the sort during his previous inspections, he knew it did no harm to keep looking, and it could actually do some good, as it was far from unheard of for flaws that had avoided a number of inspections to be suddenly detected after yet another one. And while at this time, any imperfection serious enough to affect the ship's departure was likely to be one that could not be corrected in the time they had left, Wilde was nothing if not a man who took his duties as an officer seriously. He'd never have become Chief Officer otherwise.

In the end, however, this inspection followed the rule of all the previous ones. Nothing had been out of place as far as Wilde could see, and all the crewmen seemed fearful enough of getting his attention trained on them to be lazy.

Some satisfaction flickering through him at the fact everything was going fine, Wilde stopped, and gave a look around, thinking that maybe it would be better to stop for about half a minute before taking one last turn around the forecastle. He knew as an officer that it was far too easy for one to get caught up in monotony when doing the same thing for too long – most notably on bridge watches – and while Wilde had never been the sort to easily succumb to that, it was better not to take any chances.

After all, this had been a busy day so far. First he'd needed to get his sailing report done and delivered to Captain Smith at 07.30 a.m. Then, half-an-hour after that, there had been the Board of Trade muster, which had consisted of one last, very thorough inspection of the ship to make sure it was seaworthy – which it had been in the Board of Trade's eyes. Now, about ten minutes before departure if his estimations were correct, he was at the forecastle, inspecting the crewmen in charge of the local moorings and of the hawsers connected to the tugboats that would pull that part of the ship – with Lightoller assisting him.

That detail made this task the worst of them all. No matter how many rules and orders had dictated that he and Lightoller had to get along, Wilde couldn't help but to think it was a rather bad start for a voyage to have to work alongside Lightoller, an opinion which was shared by the Second Officer.

But, as both men remembered what Captain Smith had told them on the previous day, neither had thought about bringing it up when the task of supervising the hawsers and moorings at the forecastle had been assigned to them both, and simply tended to the duty with all the devotion they could muster. Fortunately, that duty didn't necessarily involve frequent interaction between them, and it had been no problem for Wilde and Lightoller to get to a verbal agreement that they would just work independently and speak up if they noticed anything wrong. However, during the few free moments he hadn't spent inspecting one of the crewmen's work, Wilde had already traded more glares with Lightoller than he cared to count – and certainly more than what had been advisable.

But he was only human after all. From the first time he and Lightoller had met, both had disliked each other with every fiber of their being. And although Wilde had occasionally wished it wasn't that way – he'd never been the sort of man who liked being engaged in hostilities – he'd never been able to start an attempt at changing things, or to even give some serious consideration to the idea. It could be seen as childish, and it was most likely stupid, but like he'd told Ada Murdoch the day before, he just didn't like Lightoller, period.

Kind of like with this ship.

Even if the press was going on and on about how wonderfully luxurious and sturdy the Titanic was, and even if it was virtually identical to the Olympic – with which Wilde had no problem becoming comfortable, in spite of all the things on which she differed from the other vessels' where he'd worked – he had felt apprehensive about this ship from the moment publicity had started to give more attention to it. The feeling had only increased when he had first gotten the suspicion that he would have to go on board of it, and now that he was officially part of the crew, even if only for the maiden voyage, that feeling was stronger than ever. Thankfully he'd been perfectly able to forget about it whenever he had to devote his attention to whatever duties he had to tend to, but it was far too easy for his mind to go down that path if he didn't have anything else to keep it busy with.

Perhaps it would be easier if he felt he could talk to others about it, but Wilde told his thoughts about the ship to almost no one, as he felt people could find him an idiot for having misgivings about the ship that was so praised by everyone who knew about its existence. So, he had done every possible effort to look as calm about the ship whenever the subject was brought up in conversation, and on the few occasions anyone had asked why he 'looked that way', he had calmly stated that the interloper was seeing things. He had even taken the care to speak highly of the Titanic on the letters he'd written to most of his family members – though with them it was because he didn't want to leave them worried should he actually get to travel on the Titanic, not because he was afraid they would find him crazy for talking about his misgivings.

In the end, his sister had been the only one to whom he had opened up on that matter, but it had done less good than he would have liked. She had been as wonderful as always, listening to him attentively and treating his comments like things to be considered – in short, she had been the same wonderful elder sister she had always been. But she hadn't really agreed with him. She had simply said that he was seeing too much into things, and that the only reason why he didn't like the new ship was exactly because of how she was an improved Olympic, and the way that likened to havingall the sure statements about the Olympic's sturdiness extrapolated to new levels, and how part of that related to not one, but two occasions in his life, which had taken place very closely, and had also involved a good amount of reassuring about a bright future that in the end hadn't been meant to be.

He couldn't blame her for trying to reassure him, and he at times actually thought there was some truth to her words, but no amount of comfort would make him change his mind about the Titanic. In the end, like he had told Murdoch the day before, he'd mostly accepted this job because his children would surely be incredibly happy if he got to be part of the Titanic's crew for her maiden voyage, and without even coming down in rank.

Not for the first time, Wilde wished he was already Captain. That way, his children would be much happier for sure. And indeed, if things had gone the way they were supposed to, he would currently by in command of a White Star Line steamer – most probably the Cymric, or, if he was lucky, the Oceanic. But just before he'd been assigned to a ship, the problems caused by the coal strike that had started in January had started increased, and the ship he was meant to have captained – whatever it was – had met the same fate of so many others, and been laid up until further notice. At first, that had simply lead to Wilde remaining on the Olympic for an undetermined amount of time, but shortly before leaving Southampton on her, he'd been told to stay behind, and then directed to the Titanic, And now, after almost a week of doubt whether he would part of its crew or not, he would have to sail on it – which was among the things he'd have wanted the least.

Just another side effect of the coal strike, in a way.

Still, even with his dislike of the ship getting in the way, Wilde managed to recognize on moments of serious thought about the matter that he had ended better off than many over the course of the coal strike, which had led to an ever increasing number of vessels to end up tied alongside docks over the four months of its duration, and lead to something like 17,000 men – an amount made up by stokers, trimmers, firemen, greasers, stewards, and seamen – ending up without a job, and in many cases, to end up homeless either, as their landlords gave them eviction notices without a moment's thought or sympathy about their financial situation.

And the worst part was that, once the strike was finally sorted out – which had happened exactly a week ago – it had done no more than stirring up a huge amount of tension on both sides of the conflict and creating innumerable problems for those initially meant to benefit from it, while hardly bothering those in the upper classes, like the people who would travel first class on this ship. After all, the miners were part of a world that the wealthy upper class had no idea existed, and did not understand at all.

Not that Wilde assumed he had a total understanding of those workers' suffering – after all, he'd never been a miner himself – but he'd been to the boiler rooms of several ships, and seen the sort of work performed there, which was at least enough to have a modicum of an idea of how hard it was. He imagined working in mines had to be much worse, considering the lack of light and ventilation, the temperature at over 100ºF, and the danger of being killed by an explosion or a landslide. And for most of those lucky enough to make it through all those things, death normally came in the way of some lung disease before the age of fifty.

Wilde was not a man who would shudder at the thought of it, but he was one who felt the workers did deserve something more than what they got for providing for so much of society. But for the wealthy few who had the power to actually make something about it, none of that mattered. They couldn't understand why the miners were protesting at all, and ultimately chose not to think about it.

And, he couldn't help but to think, the Titanic had been built mostly thinking about the wealthy few that could afford travelling on it.

Wilde could feel his apprehension about the ship starting to escalate into near-dislike for high society, but then, with a forceful grunt, he stood as straight as he could, and drove those thoughts away. The Titanic was a ship he didn't like, and it was indeed something conceived mostly for wealthy people, but it was also his newest assignment. And like all assignments he'd had before this one, he'd do nothing but to take it seriously.

Nodding to himself at that decision, Wilde started walking around the forecastle again, to carry out what he was quite sure would be his last inspection of the area before the ship left port.

Well, this is it for the first chapter.

I honestly hope you enjoyed it, but I do acknowledge that there were a lot of things that most attentive readers probably picked up on and that may have prevented them from fully enjoying this chapter.

As this concerns both Titanic history buffs and fans of James Cameron's movie, I'm going to separate my explanations about the topics I feel may have bothered some people in two lists.

The first, as I'm writing a fanfic about James Cameron's movie, will be about the points that don't agree with what we see in the movie.

1) About the overcast weather I describe, yes, I am fully aware that in James Cameron's movie, the weather is sunny, with the only visible clouds being fairly scattered through the sky. However, I made it overcast, because that is the way it was on the day of the real Titanic's departure, and as this is an AU, I figured it was permissible to do that.

2) I am also fully aware that in James Cameron's movie Rose is 17 years old, but I took the liberty to age her a bit in this AU, for reasons that hopefully will become obvious as the story moves along.

3) For those with a sharp eye for the characters' outfits, I know that none of the costumes I had the characters wearing - except possibly Lovejoy - are the ones they wear in James Cameron's movie, and that Rose's outfit I describe in this story is the most dissimilar in color from the one she wears in the movie. However, some research I made revealed to me that travelling was a very dirty business in 1912, and although the Titanic was most certainly clean, as it was a new ship, all the characters would have to get through several dirty areas before stepping on it, and so would wear dark colors that might hide eventual smudges. So, I did my best to give their outfits colors suggested by pictures of the time. I honestly hope that, mostly in Rose's case, I managed to convey an alternate outfit similar enough to the one she wears in the movie - and enjoyable enough for those who give importance to costumes they picture the characters wearing. And for those who noticed, I mentioned Rose carrying an umbrella instead of a parasol because, with overcast weather, it'd make more sense if she was afraid of rain than if she needed to protect herself from the sun - although in theory, umbrella and parasol may be considered as different words for the same thing.

4) I know that in the movie Ruth is never shown as having her own maid, and it's most probable she doesn't have one at all and settles for having Trudy tending to her as well. The only hint we get about the possibility of Ruth having her own maid is at the scene when the passengers are mustered, and Ruth directs both Trudy and another nameless woman back to her cabin to turn the heaters on and make her a cup of tea. Of course, that other woman may also have been a stewardess, which is impossible to tell for sure, mostly because both Trudy and that other woman are wearing coats over their uniforms, and so uniform comparison is not helpful toward determining whether that other woman is a personal maid or a stewardess. But regarding this story, I can only say that I took another liberty regarding the financial situation of the DeWitt Bukater women, and that as a result of it, I felt it would be appropriate enough for Ruth to have her own maid. There will be a deeper explanation of said change in the DeWitt Bukaters financial situation in a future chapter.

Thank you for reading this first list. Now, for those with doubts about historical points addressed in this story, this second list is for you.

1) The real Henry Wilde, Wilde did start April 10th by gettting a sailing report done, and having it delivered to Captain Smith at 07.30 a.m. There was also a Board of Trade muster, which started at 08.00 a.m., and although I don't know how long it lasted, it is known that around sailing time Wilde and Lightoller were at the forecastle inspecting the crewmen tending to the hawsers and moorings - so it's possible that they were there for some time before, and also that they gave some looks at the hawsers and moorings themselves.

2) It is also known that Wilde did not like the Titanic, as he said on a letter he wrote to his sister on April 11th that he 'still didn't like the ship' which most likely meant the dislike came from before he actually became part of its crew. At the same time, he really wrote a letter to his nieces Norah and Edie (his sister's children) on April 7th, where he spoke rather highly of the Titanic - but it seems plausible that he only said so for not to have them worried, the same way it is possible that he wrote more letters to his family members before the Titanic actually left.

3) The real Henry Wilde was indeed meant to be captaining his own ship by late March/early April 1912, but the coal strike lead to that ship being laid up. I didn't manage to conclusively figure out whether the ship he would have captained, but my research revealed it was most likely to be the Cymric, although it is also possible that it was the Oceanic. In the end, I found the better decision was to have Wilde himself also being unsure about which ship he would have captained. On a similar matter, I had him preferring the Oceanic because that was the biggest ship, and most likely also the grandest ship out of the pair.

4) Regarding the figures and dates I mention about the coal strike, it really started on January 1912, and it really lead to the firing of 17,000 men of all the groups I mentioned. And of those, most of them did get evicted by their landlords. Or at least, that's what the research I made told me.

Well... this is only the first chapter (not counting the prologue) and yet I already have such a lengthy author's note. Boy, do I hope they don't get longer with every chapter I update...

To anyone who may have had the bravery to plow through this until the end, thanks a lot for doing so. I sincerely appreciate it.

Thanks a lot for reading both this chapter and these notes.