Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar: The Last Airbender or any of its characters nor do I own the Titanic and its storyline.

Summary: AU. Tokka. Based loosely off the Titanic. On the maiden voyage of the Avatar, two very different people fall in love. But society as well as luck is against them as they try to cope with it all.

Suki is really OOC because I didn't want to make an original character for this story.

He could tell that Katara was thinking about something, not really thinking, but mentally challenging herself with the problem, pondering over the solution, then deciding it was ridiculous and starting all over again, when he had entered his room and saw her waiting for him at the foot of his bed, a worried, hurt, and frustrated look etched upon her features. She had the specific face on—the one that could win her Pai Sho games because it looked like she was concentrating too hard, and it was also the face that haunted him whenever he thought of his mistakes. In a way she was like a living conscience for him.

"Where's Aang?" he asked nonchalantly, avoiding the fact that she had something more important to question. Hopefully, he thought wistfully, hopefully she'll forget whatever she wants to talk to me about. He, however, was not completely oblivious, though there were many an occasion that he was so clueless it was no longer funny. He knew that she was planning to talk to him about Suki. About how he was messing up their father's future. About the debts and financial problems.

Avoiding his gaze, she let her hands run over the posts of the bed, obviously admiring the craftsmanship of it all. She stood up, and answered lazily, "Oh, I sent him to our room. He knows I need to talk to you. He doesn't really mind. Aang's a sensitive and kind guy, and—"

"Okay, I get it!" Sokka interrupted her childishly, his tone similar to that of a young boy ready to put his hands over his ears to block out what he didn't want to hear. Just what he needed, more reason to worry. "And Suki?" he questioned slowly, knowing fully well that he should be the one who knew and once again putting on the false facade that he didn't really care.

"She's with a friend," Katara announced loudly, stretching her arms before crossing them across her chest. Her hip jutted a little more to the right, for her right leg had all the weight placed upon it, and her left leg was bent a little as her tanned mouth curved into a frown.

"Oh," was the single word that escaped his lips. Not able to think up anything intelligent, anything worth retorting, he stared at her helplessly. "What did you want to talk about?" He knew that the conversation could not have been put off, but at least he had saved himself for an extra minute.

"You know very well what I want to talk about, Sokka," she let her eyes pierce through his own, suddenly reminding him of the girl he had seen in the hall and causing him to look away quickly, which she hopefully took as a sign of retreat and not of a hidden agenda. When he answered nothing and the room remained silent, she produced a loud groan. "Sokka!" she screeched, hissed even. "What about Dad?"

Perfect, just perfect, she was guilt-tripping him into apologizing to Suki, which they both knew he didn't want to do. "What about him?" he asked, voice small, almost like he were the younger sibling. He did not like where this was going. Avatar help me, he mentally pleaded. Katara really is a human conscience!

"Sokka," she changed her tone to one more gentle. "When I went off to marry Aang, I knew I was making the right choice. I would never be able to fill in your place. The situation is too dire. When Mom died and Dad was so depressed he got into the gambling world, I immediately knew that Aang and I had to marry quickly. I knew that Dad was going to get into debt. Gambling isn't easy for anyone but the cheaters, and Dad being the honorable man he is, didn't cheat."

It was almost like she was repeating their entire history to him, trying to remind him of the hopeless situation he wanted so much to be out of.

"Now the debts need to be paid. Or they'll take away Dad's life. You don't want that to happen, do you?" her voice was mildly threatening but showed more concern for both of the men in her family's welfare rather than anything else.

"I know the story, Katara," he snapped defensively, angrily. "I have to marry Suki for the stupid money and get Dad out of debt. She's our last hope. Yadda yadda yadda!" He wanted to break something, anything. Just grab the closest object near him and hurl in to the floor until it broke into the thousands of unusable pieces that he wanted to be the problem. Broken. . . Gone. . .

She sighed empathetically and placed her hand on his shoulder, a small, sad smile on her face. "Apologize to her. You know it's for the best."

With her final words, she bowed out of his room and departed into her own, leaving Sokka to think about what his problems really were and if there were any other ways to solve them, which, unfortunately, there weren't.

--

Her eyes were practically shut at that point. She was really tired, sleepy, exhausted, all forms of the word. She still felt dizzy and weak from the motion sickness from the rocking of the Avatar. She wasn't in the mood of getting up and retreating back to the room of the idiots. The only good thing, the only positive side to it all, was that she was already at a bench—one that took a damn long time to find, so she wasn't easily going to surrender it to any lucky weasel-monkey who passed by. She stretched out her legs as far as they could go, which sadly wasn't much and took up only three-fourths of the bench, and rested her head on her right arm and her left hand flat upon her stomach.

Her headache-migraine was gone, thank the spirits, but she couldn't help but feel a lingering, nagging pain. One that just refused to go away because it wasn't real. One that would never leave until she came up with a real answer. One that needed time to be solved. A question, a problem, that needed answering. That needed a solution. She needed to come to terms with it herself, even.

Why had she blushed? More so, why had she bothered staring? And even more of something worth wondering, why him?

It was a simple question, really. Her mind was just making a huge deal out of something stupid and small. But it was nagging at her. Elbowing, twisting, demanding, poking, asking, pleading, begging to be answered. Why, oh why, had she blushed?

She had never before met the stupid man, that was for sure. Hell, she still hadn't met him. All she did was stare. A lot. And she didn't really know what he looked like because he was too far away to be distinguished from her impaired eye vision. So she wasn't even sure that he looked decent. Yet all she did was stare. What did he do to make her stare at him? What did he do to make her blush? What made him so damn special?

She had found the bench and had been ready to rest upon it when something had caught her eye. How that something had, she didn't know, but it had happened and she couldn't control it. And that something was going to come back and haunt her, she had known it. Fate just never went her way.

It was probably the fact that the passing boy had seemed upset. His sadness was obvious, searing through him and somehow getting deep into her, piercing through her stomach and digging itself into her curious, wondering gaze. As he had passed, she could feel the tears he must have shed, feel the desperation in his soul, feel an argument getting into her head as it had him. She didn't know how he could have been so upset, but he was. There had been something. . . Something about that boy that had caught her attention, and once it had, she couldn't let it go.

And he had sensed her staring! Sensed her stupid staring! And he had turned around to see what she was doing. It was obvious he was planning on yelling at her and asking why she had been looking at him so intently, but something about her must have caught his attention too. And from there, she had no intention of letting go of his gaze. Though she couldn't tell what he looked like, what color his eyes were, or any other detail like that, she had no intention at all to let go. She could tell he was surprised, probably a little scared, but not willing to be the first to let go of their 'eye battle'.

His gaze was almost as intent on her as hers had been on him. People had passed by and distorted their views of each other, no doubt wondering why the two people from completely different worlds had been looking at each other with something different from disgust and anger and hatred.

He had been the first to let go. Of the gaze, anyway. Whatever had been upsetting him had jumped back into his mind and was back to haunt him like he was haunting her now. That strange man had turned and left, shaking his head almost with. . . Disgust? Frustration?

And still she hadn't stopped looking at him.

Why had she been looking at him in the first place? There was nothing special about him, that was for sure. Now she was permanently being haunted, plagued by this so-called man who had the decency to stare at her like she had him and then walk away in a huff like nothing had ever happened in the first place. He was not worth it. Not worth her time. Not worth her gaze. Not worth her energy of thinking about him.

But she knew she was going to continue concentrating on him. She was always going to question herself about what had happened. She was always going to wonder what had been plaguing him and what had caused her to feel a sudden empathy for him. She was always going to wonder about him.

She rolled over on the bench, so that she was on her side, so that her back was to the back rest of the bench. So she could stare out into the open and think.

Think about what made her blush and stare at him. He was a first-class passerby, for Spirit's sake! He had done nothing—ABSOLUTELY NOTHING—to make her stare.

But she had. And, though she and the spirits may be angry. . .

She wanted to do it again.

--

"I think I can choose my own food, Suki," his voice was harsh and angry, his face red and his eyes fired up.

"But, you know I don't like that you eat so much meat! Poor baby animals are being killed for our dinner!" she defended herself, tone of voice rising.

His eyebrows squinted together for a brief second before his entire face contorted with anger. "Well I'm me! I should be allowed to make my own damn choices!" he shouted furiously.

Katara and Aang glanced at each other nervously from across the table, both aware that other parties from around the dining hall were staring at them. The fight that Sokka and Suki were having was gaining them too much unneeded and unwanted attention. They had to stop before the head commander of the ship would make plans to kick them off.

"Suki?" Sokka called out softly, hoping with all his heart that she would not answer, that she wasn't even in the room of the Jinsu Family. He felt his voice crack a little. "Suki?" His hand rapped lightly on the door of the room two doors away from his own room. The corridor he was in was no longer crowded with people, and the lights were all off. The only illumination of the chamber he was in were small candles lit at each end of the hallway.

Shrugging because it was his fifth try and there still was no answer, he turned to leave. There was really no point in him staying and trying to apologize to a closed door, and he needed sleep after all. Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants, he slouched off.

"Sokka?" a quiet voice squeaked out, sounding sad and like it had just been crying. "Is that you?"

Spinning around quickly, he came face to face with his fiancée, and he felt surprise and shock well up inside his stomach when he stared at her. It looked as though she had been crying, for her emerald-clad hand was hastily wiping tears off of her still heavily made-up face, and her eyes were red and puffy. Long lines of her real skin color shone through in the nighttime light, and he felt instant pity and regret for yelling at her during dinner.

"You think I don't give you freedom, is that it? I let you parade around in that stupid attire, don't I?" she snapped back furiously.

He felt something in him crack, "What's wrong with the way I look?"

She didn't sense that it was the moment for her to keep quiet or hold back insults. She didn't sense that whatever she told him was going to be thrown back at her harder. "Do you think I like having to walk around with you when you don't care about how society can see you? They don't see you like you're handsome, Sokka. They all think that you're poor and lazy because your hair is never combed back right and is always in that ridiculous ponytail. They all think that you have no style because you wear that blue tunic and dress pants all the time. I'm tired of it, Sokka! I hate having to be talked about because people don't think twice about me. They all assume that because you aren't dressed up, that I never will be. I hate it!"

Her outburst caught her breath, and she momentarily had to clutch her chest and breathe in deeply before she could remain somewhat calm again.

Sokka frowned, looking down at his attire before looking at her in the eyes. People from all around the dining room were standing up to stare at the couple and the waiter was slowly backing away from the table rather than putting down their food.

"Yeah, it's me," he murmured to her, his hand automatically extending to caress her cheek, his thumb wiping away any stray tears falling from her gray eyes, which were glazed with more oncoming tears. Yes, he was definitely feeling remorse and guilt for his shouts at dinner.

"What do you want? To yell at me more?"

He had experience with Suki when she was like this plenty of times before. She would cry and pout for a long time, at least until he comforted her and gave her promises of their future together and would talk about how jealous other wealthy classed citizens would be when they attended her wedding. He would spin long tales of how much money she would be able to spend and of what fanciful gifts she would be receiving from both him and the guests. Her tears would cease and she would stare at him with such innocence it made him wonder why he didn't enjoy spending time with her, and then, she would smile. He would bury his head into her hair and smile himself, whispering about how much he was sorry, begging, pleading for forgiveness, and then kissing her lightly on the forehead.

Her mood would have been healed and fully restored back to its regular, arrogant self, and she would stand up and brush the dust off of her skirt like it was weakness to sit on the ground. Then she would start talking about how much money she was planning on spending on a new dress or asking him questions about how she looked. He would immediately drop all thoughts of pity and smile falsely, nodding with the hopes that she would just change, then following her out to do whatever she wanted.

"No."

"I wish I could say the same about you, but I can't. You're so damn vain and arrogant! Sometimes I just want to smack you in the head! You're beautiful, Suki, but you live on compliments. You can't stand it if no one tells you that you look good. And I always have to tell it to you! What am I, an accessory?" he should have stopped there, but after her shocking revelation, he couldn't hold back anymore.

"You poke and prod at your face that's covered in that messy goop that you think is making you pretty. Well, heads up, brainiac, you're not getting any prettier or any younger." Suki's eyes were filled with tears by his last statement, and the crowd of people watching all had their mouths open in wide 'O's'. Gasps were heard from across the room, including from Katara and Aang, who were getting up and sneaking away from the table.

"Your over-sized head is always in front of the vanity mirror, you know that? Do you ever bother doing anything other than covering yourself in make-up and insulting other people?" he emitted a loud, sardonic laugh. "They made the mirror just for you, I'll bet. They even named it after you. 'Vanity'. All for the vain little brat."

He gulped uneasily, nervously, then used the hand that wasn't on his wife-to-be to rub the back of his neck as he looked up at the ceiling. He was praying to the spirits for the strength to go through with the apology, to lie about how he felt about her just to comfort her, to lie just so that his family would be out of debt, so his father would survive.

"Well, what is it, then?" she snapped, demanded. He looked at her strangely, giving her a look that screamed, 'you're supposed to be sad'. At his gaze, she immediately looked down and let tears re-form in her eyes.

"I want to apologize."

"You. . . You. . . You Jerk!" Suki shouted, tears streaming down her face. Knowing her role of a woman, she buried her face in her hands and scurried from the room, her sobs and footsteps still heard from the echoing corridors.

Everyone in the dining room had heard their loud outbursts and arguments. They all were staring at the man from the Water Tribe like he was a monster for treating a woman like so. Their glares were piercing into him, and their hushed whispers drove him to insanity.

"Apologize! Apologize!"

He felt his heart snap as a picture of his father conjured up in his head. He could see Katara shaking her head in the distance, her arm around her husband protectively. He could still see Suki fleeing from the room. He could still see. . .

"You do?" she whispered quietly, looking up at him with shining eyes.

"Well, yeah," he told her gently, pushing all other thoughts aside and looking at her, trying to love her. "I was, and I quote, 'a jerk'." He had wanted to imitate her voice, but he knew she would have taken it too seriously and would have ended up crying even more.

She giggled a little before swatting at him playfully, weakly. "You were, weren't you?"

He nodded with an empty grin, "Mmm hmm. And I can promise you this: I didn't mean anything that I said at dinner today. I must've smoked too many pipes or something. You are as beautiful as. . . as. . . . " He looked around for something to use as a good simile. "Ah! As beautiful as my tunic is blue."

Suki smiled and wrapped both of her arms around his chest, burying her face into his oh-so-familiar clothes. "Thanks."

There was a silence.

"Let's just go to sleep. It's late and we're both tired."

--

Toph shook her head and clutched nervously at her stomach, letting the pertubed wave of nausea try and pass. She was not, not, NOT going to get motion sickness on the Avatar.

Umm, this was basically a filler. I know it's a bit early to be doing that, but this chapter is already well over three thousand words, and I want all of my chapters around the same length. Plus, what I was going to add to the next part would have made this have another two thousand or so words, and that's a bit too long for what I normally write. (Plus, it's kinda hard to keep your place in reading something so long.)

Anywho, the next chapter will have all the fun stuff in it. For those of you who remember or watched the actual Titanic movie, it's the part with Rose and suicide and twenty bucks. -dances- I'm so super psyched to be getting that up.

Well, erm, that's all for now. I have nothing else to say. Or do I?

Questions, comments, or concerns? Lemme know! No flames, please. Any and all criticism is welcome.

-Sophia

Chapter finished: March 10