A/N: Here's the self-titled Chapter 7… because seven is too great a number to not give it in its full. So, thanks for the reviews, and I love Katie!
Chapter 7. This is Chapter 7.
The Titanic was continuing along on her course, which now hopefully did not include an iceberg. Katie's slight alteration of Titanic's intended course may be just what was needed to prevent the catastrophic event that loomed in the future. With Officer Lowe back in the wheelhouse, Katie gallivanted down a few decks to find Samantha, who was suspiciously backed against a wall, looking over her shoulder few seconds.
"So…" Sam whispered. "How'd it go?!"
"Well," Katie began, "If I was successful in my efforts, Titanic should be now heading about 3 degrees more South than before, so Captain Crunch should notice we are off course a bit, but when he corrects it, I doubt that he'll get us back on the track we were just on, so all in all, I think it was a productive little show we just put on."
Sam nodded. "Mini Silent Wave in Celebration of Katie Saving Titanic from Sure Death!" And then Sam held said mini wave. "But we can't be sure that anything is for sure," she concluded.
"Oh! The binoculars!" Katie exclaimed. Sam promptly shushed her. "Why are YOU being all paranoid?!"
Sam leaned in close to Katie and said under her breath, "He's after me."
Katie shifted an eyebrow. "Who?"
"J. Bizzle!" Sam whispered, looking down the promenade deck. "He's got a stick up his ass and I'm the one who put it there!"
"You've been doing that a lot lately," Katie observed.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," she replied, shaking it off. "But we need to go somewhere and discuss some sterf. I vote your cabin."
And with that, the two were off. The day was growing older with every step the pair made. Well, Katie was just taking ordinary steps; Sam found it necessary to stop at every corner and, umm, stealthily, make sure that Ismay was not coming.
"You'd think with him being all hoity toity and all, that he would have better things to do than watch your every move," Katie said, now showing her irritation with Sam's covert mission moves.
"Yeah, you would think!" Sam replied through gritted teeth. "But apparently I'm not upholding my reputation or standards or something…"
A deep voice resounded behind her. "I guess you WERE listening when I reprimanded you earlier." Sam slowly turned and saw none other than J. "Bizzle" Bruce Ismay strolling down the hall.
"Oh, great!" Sam exclaimed reflexively, rolling her eyes. Ismay's eyes narrowed threateningly. "Sorry," she shrugged. "That just came out naturally."
Ismay shook it from his mind. "Katherine-" Ismay said, looking at her. He once again was shocked at her appearance. She was, after all, wearing Ismay's son's pants and one of Cal's shirts… but Ismay didn't know that. "Aren't you… uncomfortable in those trousers?"
Both Katie and Sam looked at Ismay strangely, surprised that he had actually said that. "Umm… I'm gonna be over here, away from you…" Katie said, shying away, holding in her giggles.
Sam burst out in laughter, while J. Bizzle spoke loudly over her noise. "If you intend on being ready at that time, Katherine, you should go and begin to dress now... and preferably in an actual dress, rather than… whose trousers are those? They look like my son's-"
"OKAY!" Katie interrupted, not wanting Ismay to think any longer on the topic of her pants. "So, meet my dad at 5. Got it. Tata!" Katie turned and left in a hurry, Sam could tell she was giggling madly by the way she scurried down the hall.
Ismay turned to his own daughter (this title being used loosely, of course). "And YOU!" Sam shrank back under the shadow of this mustached man. "We have an array of things to discuss, under cover of closed doors, of course. But first-"
He led the way back to their cabins on B Deck much like it was Sam's final walk along Death Row with Ismay playing the role of Prison Warden. However, instead of heading towards their own cabins, Ismay lead her to another. He gently knocked on the ornate door, which was immediately answered by-
"Trudy!" Sam exclaimed, recognizing Miss Dewitt-Bukater's maid immediately. Ismay promptly quieted her with a whack from his cane.
"Good evening," Ismay said in his most debonair voice.
Trudy curtsied. "Mr. Ismay, come right in."
Ismay strolled into the room with purpose while Samantha hesitated for a moment in the hallway. What on EARTH was this all about?!
"Ah, Mr. Ismay! Here you are! And Miss Ismay, too!"
Sam froze. Her eyes widened. She recognized that voice… Oh, she recognized it, alright. She had only replayed his scenes on her Titanic DVD 7.9 billion times. Once again Samantha found herself intoxicated by Caledon Hockley.
Ismay said, "I hope you find her to be of some assistance, and not the hindrance she is the majority of the time…" Cal laughed, while Sam stood there, appalled that her father would say such things about her in front of Cal.
"I resent you," she said, glaring daggers at him. She didn't want him to think she was any weirder than he already thought. After all, during their first encounter Sam had suddenly forgotten how to speak English and walked sideways into a wall…
The room grew an awkward quiet before Ismay excused himself and left Samantha and Cal alone. She silently thanked her lucky stars.
Motioning for her to take a seat, Cal asked, "I'm sure you're wondering why your father brought you here?"
Sam sat upon the couch while, once again, Cal's presence had muted her. Wait… was she dreaming this again? Sure, the other times, her reveries were of her own accord, but she was the first to admit that sometimes her imagination got a little crazy. She couldn't deny it after that whole flying psychedelic muffin fiasco she had imagined after prom… but, uhm, anyway, it was very likely that this whole situation was dreamed up while Ismay was busy chastising her for Lord knows what. She eyed Cal up and down. Surely, this wasn't a dream. He never looked this good in her head.
"Samantha," Cal said, sitting down next to her. "Will you do something for me?"
"Anything," she breathed, once again turning the idea of this being an illusion in her head.
"My fiancée, Rose… she just doesn't seem to be the same since we've been on the ship. She's been particularly melancholy lately," he stated.
"And you don't pretend to know why?" Sam suggested airily, looking up at him, completely enamored.
Cal furrowed his brow. "Why, yes, actually… I haven't the slightest inclination of what the matter is. Which is why I'm asking for your assistance. You're her age… If you could just keep an eye on her, see if you can figure out what it is and if I should be concerned-"
Cal's charming voice was interrupted as Ismay came strolling through the cabin door, clenching some type of fabric in his hand. It was obvious that he was unhappy; his face was the color of an eggplant.
"J. Bizzle, you've got to take it easy- you'll give yourself an aneurism!" Sam said turning to face her father. Her eyes found the fabric in his hands and she let out a gasp when she recognized it. Great, her dad was standing in the doorway, about to have a royal conniption, waving a shirt she stole.
"Mr. Hockley, I do believe this is yours," Ismay said, handing the now utterly confused Caledon his missing button-up shirt.
He looked questioningly at Ismay, who gestured to Samantha, who quickly tried to peace out. "Yeah, about that…" Sam began, slowly heading back to the couch as Ismay closed in on her. "Funny story, actually…"
"Enlighten me," Ismay suggested but his tone clearly hinted this was closer to a demand.
"Well," Sam inhaled, "Katie and I were gonna have this huge monstrosity of a squash battle, only we can't play squash in dresses, I mean, come on, we can barely WALK in dresses, so she had some pants I had taken from Henry and I had some pants that I took from George and so we had the pants but then we realized that we needed shirts so we went pilfering and borrowed some of Cal's because he's got a bajillion shirts and they all smell wonderfully." Her breath was fully exerted with this outburst. Both Cal and Ismay stood there, a bit more than simply dumbfounded. "Yeah, so you can have your shirt back…" Sam concluded. "Now, if you'll excuse me gentlemen, I have to go dress for dinner." And with that, she left.
Meanwhile, Miss Andrews was being angrily stuffed into yet another dress. As her maid was lacing up her back, Katie swore right there, right then she would never ever ever EVER wear a dress on her own accord. Not even her wedding. She would wear pants. But not a dress. Anything but a dress.
"Alright, Miss, you're all dressed. Your gloves are on the nightstand," her maid stated before exiting the room. Katie picked up the silk gloves with disgust and threw one against the wall just because she could.
When there was a knock on her door, Katie thought for a split second the wall was fighting back, but no, it was just Pops at the door.
"Hello, dear," Andrews said as Katie opened the door for him. "Ready?"
Katie shrugged and began into the hallway. The lone white glove on the ruby carpet caught Andrews' eye. He leaned and picked it up, giving it to his daughter. "Katherine- your glove."
"Oh, I lost the other one…" she trailed off, quickly grabbing the so-called missing glove off the night stand.
Andrews raised a brow. "What's in your hand?"
"Nothing…" Katie replied, slowly backing away from her father.
"Show me!" Andrews demanded.
"No, it's nothing-" Katie said frantically as Andrews approached her. In her final acts as a desperate man, she turned around and did the only thing she thought to do: she stuffed it in her mouth.
Now, her mouth full of genuine Chinese silk, Katie opened her palms to her father, who could only shake his head. Ismay and Samantha, on their way to dinner, passed by Katie's open cabin door and walked into such a scene.
Sam took one look at Katie and lost all self-control in fits of laughter. Ismay took one look at Katie, as well. "That looks like a small animal in your mouth. Spit it out," he responded with distaste.
Katie let out as much of a grunt as she could then pushed the glove out of her mouth. All Andrews could do was shake his head.
"Well, Thomas, if your daughter is so hungry as to eat a glove, I suggest we best be on our way to dinner," Ismay stated. And with that, they were off to dinner. Katie and Sam could only hope that their efforts earlier in the day would make up for the second half.
Over dinner, they discussed the binocular scenario.
"We'll find some binoculars!" Katie simply said under her breath. The quiet chatter at the dinner table masked their intrigues well.
"It's Friday. Iceberg is expected in T minus 3 days and closing," Sam whispered, moving her pieces of lamb across her plate. "We're on the Titanic. If the officers can't find the binoculars, how are we gonna find them?!"
Katie sat back in her chair a moment, thinking. "We'll, like, recruit people and we'll sweep the whole ship…"
Sam guffawed at the suggestion. But then she too sat back and did some thinking. "…It could work…"