It was the summer of April 10, 1912. The magnificent mega-structure towered over the terminal buildings like a skyline of the city. The Ship of Dream's pristine white contrasted with the crisp blue of the Southampton Sky. The English air buzzed with the sights, sounds, colours and movements of an energetic nation, eager to witness the Ship's long-awaited departure.

From amongst the crowd, a sleek white Renault pulled up to the wharf. A uniformed driver scurried out of the car, eager to release the car's most precious cargo: A sullen raven-haired café au latte teenaged beauty. Lady Calliope Iphegenia Torres… Soon to be Lady Calliope Iphegenia Sloan.

The heels of Callie's royal blue oriental-silk ballet flats clicked against the pavement, as Callie stepped out of the Renault. Slipping a single gloved hand around her father's arm, Callie glanced upwards, appraising the Titanic with cool unimpressed eyes.

"Frankly Papa, I don't see what all the fuss is about. It doesn't look any bigger than the Seattle-Grace," she commented.

Carlos Torres chuckled, "You can be blasé about some things, Calliope, but not about Titanic. It's over a hundred feet longer than Seattle-Grace, and far more luxurious. It has squash courts, a Parisian café… even Turkish baths."

Callie shrugged indifferently. Carlos threw her a meaningful look, "Come now, Calliope. As your father, I am willing to put up with your challenging behaviour, but it is my hope you'll be a proper lady in the presence of your wonderful fiancé."

"Please, Papa. He couldn't even be bothered to get here on time. So much for wonderful fiancé," Callie replied sourly.

"It's unreasonable for you to expect him to constantly be at your beck and call. He works hard to provide for you, Calliope. I'm sure he's busy finalizing a business deal, or making some important calls," Carlos chided.

"More like Booty Calls," Callie snorted derisively.

By now, Carlos's patience had been worn quick to the bone. With reddened face and flaring nostrils, he grasped his daughter roughly by the elbow. "Do you have any idea how wealthy Sir Mark Sloan is?! He is this family's only hope-"

Carlos paused mid-sentence, as he caught a glimpse of his savior hurrying towards the wharf. He hastily released his grip on his daughter, and she rubbed her arm gingerly, glaring at him with impunity. Taking a deep calming breath, Carlos plastered a fake smile for the man who would save them with his infinite riches.

"Sorry I'm late, Sir! Was held up with… Y'know, work stuff," Mark huffed, flushed and hassled. Callie crackled with rage, as she caught a whiff of lavender-perfume on his blazer.

Carlos grinned tightly, "Ooh no, not a problem at all! We all have to make a living, don't we, Son?"

Callie cringed at her father's brown-nosing use of the word 'Son'. Mark planted a quick kiss on Callie's reluctant cheek. "So, how's my little Lady?" he inquired brightly.

Callie scowled at Mark. Turning on her heel, she picked up her suitcase and trotted towards the Titanic alone. Mark and Carlos hurried after her.

"Ohhh Calliope is displeased, what to do? What to do?" Mark mocked.

Carlos sighed deeply, "Just give her some time, she'll come around."

From within the mouth of a smoky dingy pub, Olaf, the heavyset Swede smacked his contemporary across the head with the back of his hand. Arizona clapped her hands over her mouth, giggling like a schoolgirl. Jackson Avery shook his head, bemused.

"You bloody idiot! I can't believe you bet our tickets!" Olaf quarreled in Swedish.

"You're the one who pissed all our money away! I told you not to underestimate Blondie, here!" Sven snapped back.

"How was I supposed to know some life-sized Barbie could play cards?!" Olaf shot back, throwing Arizona a scathing look. Arizona winked at him cheekily.

"Din Kuksugar hora," Olaf muttered bitterly.

Sven turned to Arizona, soaking in her image. "Maybe we change bet from tickets to better prize?" he said in English.

"Fuck off. Sven here, offered two tickets for the Titanic, and that's what we'll get if we win," Jackson argued.

Sven glared at Jackson, "We not talk to you, we talk to the girl!" Sven turned back to Arizona, grinning greasily at her. "What you say, Princess? I promise you can have me if you win bet! Okay, lil' lady?"

"Pfft. In your dreams," Arizona scoffed. "A deal is a deal. No backing out now."

"You heard the lady," Jackson laughed.

Sven shoved the table, irritably. Olaf muttered a string of Swedish profanities, some of which included obscenely racist slurs against Jackson. The first Final Call for the Titanic's departure sounded. A single crisp trumpet sounded across the morning sky. Arizona rubbed her hands together, glancing eagerly from one face to the next.

"The moment of truth, boys! Somebody's life's about to change!" she squealed.

Sweat coursed down Olaf's beefy red face. Sven breathed loudly, and Jackson chewed on his lips nervously. Jackson and the Swedes put their cards upon the table with shaky hands. Arizona held her cards against her chest. A wicked grin spread across her face, as she toyed with the boys.

"Let's see… Avery's got niente. Olaf, you've got squat. Sven, uh oh… two pair… hmmm," Arizona appraised.

She turned to Jackson somberly, "Sorry Avery."

Jackson's eyes widened, "What?! What've you got? Did you just lose my money? Fuck!"

"Sorry, you're not gonna see your mama again for a long time…" Arizona said, slapping a Full House on the table. "Cause we're going to America! Full house boys!" she shrieked.

Jackson grabbed Arizona around the waist, dragging her into a tight hug, "Fuck yeahh America! Here we come!" he yelled, as the pair jumped up and down on the spot.

The table exploded instantly into a whirlwind of Swedish cussing, swearing and shouting. "Din inavlade kuksugare! Horunge! Din fula fan! Din mammas ackliga fittkuk!"

Arizona hastily dragged the money and the tickets towards her, "Quick, Avery! Open your bag before they crack our skulls open!"

Jackson quickly obliged, and Arizona hurriedly shoved the goodies into his bag. Olaf the fat angry Swede threw himself across the table, attempting to grab a fistful of Arizona's shirt. Sven landed a heavy fist Jackson's way, and Jackson ducked just in time.

Olaf huffed and puffed, his face red with rage, "You leeedle shits! We're going to-"

"AMERICA!" Arizona and Jackson yelled, high-fiving each other, as they pumped their little legs out of the dark dingy pub.

With all their worldly possessions in two tattered shoulder bags, the youngsters sprinted towards the pier. They tore through the milling crowds of waving loved ones; shoved past languid gentlemen puffing on cigars; leapt over piles of luggage; wove through sweaty loitering workers. Bursting out of the pier, they raced toward the third class laneway at Deck E. They arrived at the bottom of the ramp just as Officer Mercer was about to shut the heavy steel door.

"Wait! We're passengers!" Jackson yelled. Flushed and panting, he waved two tattered tickets in the air.

Officer Mercer sighed, "Fine. Come aboard."

The pair hurried inside, as Officer Mercer shut the door. The third and Final Call for the Titanic sounded, and the magnificent ship pulled out of the wharf, ready to set sail. Jackson hoisted Arizona onto his shoulders, racing along the ship's third class corridors. Seated on Jackson's shoulders, Arizona pumped her fists into the air, singing at the top of her lungs.

"They won't see us waving from such great heights! 'Come down now,' they'll say!" she crooned. She pinched Jackson's cheek affectionately, "Sing with me, Avery, my man!"

"But everything looks perfect from far away! 'Come down now,' but we'll stay!" the eccentric pair of best-buds chanted.

Run - Snow Patrol

Light up, light up

As if you have a choice

Even if you cannot hear my voice

I'll be right beside you dear