*Chapter 1*

Realization Hits

"OH MY GOD!" Zipper shouted as she looked at her hands. They were covered in fine, white silk gloves. Not the tattered one she wore to the show. But new, beautiful, elegant gloves. She raised her hands to her hair, no longer spiked. It was done up, in a bun on her head. She gasped again.

Then she felt the tight pain in her stomach. She lowered her hand, and realized there was a metal corset beneath her clothing. When she turned her gaze down. She saw magnificent cream colored gown, covered in sequins.

She ran her fingers over the fine material of the dress. "What's going on?" She asked in disbelief. Was it a dream? She questioned herself. She pinched her arm hard, and felt the stabbing pain. She new she was awake.

Zipper looked forward. A glass window was between her and a driver dressed in black. She was in a car, she quickly assessed. A very old car.

She raised her hands to the latches at the top of the vehicle window.

"Excuse me. But where are you taking me?" She asked. Her voice trembling slightly.

The driver laughed, as he steered the car around several people in the streets. "If you don't know that, miss. Then something is seriously wrong."

Miss? No one ever called her miss.

"Well we're here." He announced, leaving his position behind the wheel. He opened the door beside Zipper, and extended his hand.

She reluctantly took it and stepped from the car.

"Your parents are waiting for you in New York, miss. Enjoy your voyage." He said. He turned to go back to the car.

"Driver? Where am I?" She asked again.

Again he chuckled. He pointed towards what seemed to be the sky. Only more at an angel. She turned in his gesture's direction.

Her eyes became wide with disbelief. "No. No this isn't happening." She clasped a hand over her mouth. "This is some sort of trick. This isn't happening."

"Aye, it is, miss. Now I must go. And you must hurry. Frank is in the car behind us. He'll take care of you on your journey."

"Frank?" She asked. She couldn't take her eyes off the breathtaking sight before her. "Who is Frank?"

"You're watcher, your father hired him." He replied a bit annoyed by her questions.

"My father is dead." She spat back. Her father had died in a car crash nearly ten years ago.

"Miss, perhaps you should see a doctor, once you get on board." The driver said worriedly.

"Oh, hell no. I ain't getting on that ship." She replied absently. She wanted to. That much was true. Everything she ever wanted was happening.

"Miss Michaela. Watch your language. Your family would be furious." Another gentleman stated.

She turned to him. He was an older gentleman. Graying hair, and a beard. Cold, stern, brown eyes.

"Frank?" Zipper asked.

"Michaela. We really need to get moving." Came his reply.

Why is he using my birth name? He hated her real name.

"My name is Zipper." She said in a low monotone.

"Mr. & Mrs. Rosenberg hate when you use that dreadful nickname. Now come." Frank held out his arm.

She looped hers through. Knowing that there was nothing else she could do.

"Sir, you'll have to check through the luggage terminal." A officer dressed in black, said tapping Frank on the shoulder.

"I trust you." He handed the officer a twenty dollar bill.

"Yes, sir. Rooms sir?" He asked.

"B-58 and 60." He replied with a nod.

They continued their walk. "Isn't she marvelous?" Frank asked looking down at Zipper.

She still hadn't let it sink in. She was here. This was Southampton. And this was the RMS Titanic, sitting in the Atlantic ocean. Waiting for her passengers.

How could she? This was unreal. It was scary. But above all, she was deeply excited. No one here to tell her not to be obsessed. She would get her chance to see the real Titanic. But how would she get home. So many things plagued her mind, as Frank walked her up the sloping walk-way.

He led the way down a long corridor. "Here is our staterooms." He said, opening the door.

"My room is over there." He pointed to the room across from them. "And there's yours." Of course it was the one on the opposite side of the sitting room.

Her mind swarmed with visions from the movie. Visions from actual pictures taken in 1912.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm off to look around a bit." Frank said.

Zipper waved a hand dismissively. Then walking to her room, she wondered if this was a trick. A simulation of some sort. When she pushed open the door, her breath caught in her throat.

It was simply breathtaking. Gold trimmed everything. The bed was layered in fine blankets and sheets. She walked over to the vanity. Placing both hands on the polish wood. And for the first time she was able to see herself as she was now.

She gazed into the mirror, almost in a shock. Her eyebrow ring, gone. Lip-ring, gone. Her hair was it's natural vibrant brown that it had been before the blue hair dye. Her eyes shown brightly with the a blueness that matched the ocean. She no longer wore the black contacts, she had when she was in the band. She peeled the white gloves down her arm. Revealing pale white skin. Not a single tattoo. Every single one vanished. As if by magic.

She was lovely. A vision. Even she knew this. She had never much liked her looks before. But now. Dressed in this fine gown, her hair done up perfectly. She looked like a million dollars. Then she realized that's probably what all this costs.

She stared at the reflection of the necklace that hung around her slender neck. A fiery red stone. A ruby, she new instantly.

A sudden knock at the door roused her from her dream state.

"Sorry to intrude, Miss Michaela. But your baggage has arrived." A steward dressed in a white uniform. So familiar to her, spoke from the doorway.

It was steward Barnes, from the movie. She knew it had to be him. But he was fictional. Wasn't he? She didn't know. At that moment all she could think of was confusion.

"Fine, bring it in." She managed to say. She watched as the steward motioned to two other men to start bring in her bags. Then a woman dressed in black with a white lace apron, came in. Zipper quickly recognized the outfit as that of a maid's.

"I'm Missy. I'll be your personal maid. Just ring for me, whenever you need anything, miss." She said smiling. "May I help you unpack?"

Zipper slowly nodded. Heading over to the bed. Missy had already flung open the first suitcase.

Zipper's breath caught in her throat again, as she saw the items Missy was bringing out. Such fine things. Dresses. Hair clips with diamonds. Jewelry boxes. At least a dozen of them. Nightgowns. Which were flowing to the floor. How could she sleep in those? She asked herself. Thinking back to the t-shirt and undies which had always suited her fine in 2003.

She glanced at a wall calendar. A red flag with a star in the center. The White Star Line emblem, she knew instantly. She walked closer to the hanging calendar. The year in a swirly type was printed at the top. 1912. Her hand went to her mouth again.

Missy walked over to her. Gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Yes, it sure is a glorious day isn't it?" She asked. Thinking that Zipper's surprise was because of the grand voyage not the year.

"Missy, leave me for now. I think I need to lie down." Zipper said calmly. Fighting back the urge to cry, shout, scream. Everything at once.

"Of course, ma'am." She nodded a bit, then exited the room. Quietly pulling the door closed behind her.

Zipper sat looking around. "They call me Michaela. It's my name. But why am I here?" She asked herself quietly.

Just then she felt a shudder, a small movement that she knew all to well from her research. The engines had started. Started to drag her on Titanic's maiden and terrible voyage.

A sick feeling enveloped Zipper. "My, God. I'm really here. I'm really here. I have to get home."

She desperately searched her mind for all possibilities of getting home. She couldn't find any.

She stood and departed the room. She walked down the hall, towards the lifts. She knew the layout perfectly. Every deck, every cabin. Everything. She was thankful of that much, at least.

She took the lift up to boat deck where she got out. She walked out into the warm April sunshine. Thousands of people littered the decks. She looked over the railing to the steerage class. Poor souls. She thought to herself.

She looked out over the blue water. A bit saddened. But still so utterly overjoyed she didn't know how to act. She was in her dream world. She always wanted this. Now she had it. But something inside her felt questionable. As it would for anyone.

"Traveling alone, miss?" A almost familiar voice asked from behind her.

Colonel Archibald Gracie stood, with a wine glass in hand.

Zipper slowly turned to him. "I'm here with an escort, chosen by my father."

He nodded. "Very well. I'm Archie, and who might you be young lady?" He asked.

He lifted her hand to his mouth and gently kissed her bare knuckles.

"Zip-" She started. Then thought better of it. "Michaela Rosenberg. Pleased to meet you Mr. Gracie."

He looked at her skeptically for a moment. He had not told his last name yet. But she knew it of course. She knew everything about this doomed ship and her passengers. Fictional and actual.

"Well, I know your family well. And the pleasure in meeting such a fine young lady, is all mine." He nodded, chuckling a bit. As he always did. "Excuse me." He departed. Leaving her alone in this mass of people.

She leaned back over the rail. She knew they would be stopping in Cherbourg, and that's where one person would be. That she was dying to meet.