Disclaimer: I no own Titanic, nothing else to it. I want to own it, I don't, and I'm gonna go cry now. Ignore the sobbing girl in the corner! Alright, Chapter 3! I hope you like it…

Chapter 3: Sailing Day

April 10th, 1912

Thirteen days, that's how long it had been since March 27 when the officers had boarded Titanic. Fourteen, if she included the day she met them. Yes, Ellen had been counting. In addition, she had spent almost every hour of those days with them and their captain. After spending so much time with only one group of people, it was to be assumed that their dynamic was pretty much set in stone. In fact, she felt as though she'd known them for a lifetime instead of just a few prolonged weeks.

Captain Edward Smith had become a sort of third grandfather, spoiling her and complimenting every small achievement she made. It had been unexpected at first but she quickly grew accustomed to it. As long as she wasn't going anywhere that could be potentially dangerous, she had a feeling there was nowhere on the Titanic that she wouldn't be allowed to visit, unlike most passengers. Captain Edward, she noted, didn't seem to have the ability to be truly angry with her.

After him were the officers. Henry Wilde, William Murdock, and Charles Lightoller were like uncles but not in the way she viewed Thomas Andrews. They were older, wiser, but were still ready and willing to tease her if the opportunity was presented. Ellen would pretend to be angry with them for such behavior but, in all honesty, she reveled in it. What a sharp contrast they were to Herbert Pitman and Joseph Boxhall, who seemed to want nothing to do with her. It didn't bother her though; she was quite aware that not everyone was going to like her. And she wasn't too fond of their 'no-nonsense' attitude anyway.

James Moody, on the other hand, was her brother; there was no disputing that. They quarreled like siblings, they discussed like siblings, he protected her like an older brother and she watched out for him like a younger sister. If anyone asked if she loved James Moody the answer would undoubtedly be yes; he was the closest she'd ever come to having a sibling.

And then there was Harry. She couldn't really decide what relation he was most closely akin to. She wouldn't deny that she was attracted to him, and, she feared, maybe more. He was absolutely perfect in her eyes, as passionate about the sea as she was. He was the only one she had ever felt truly and deeply comfortable with, the only one she'd ever told why she wore a diamond angel on a silver chain around her neck. Ellen recalled that moment with perfect clarity.

- - -

March 31st, 1912

Titanic's trials were to commence on Monday. It was Sunday. In all actuality, the fitting out in question would end up being postponed a day due to high winds, but Ellen didn't know that at the time. All she knew was that it was raining and she loved the rain. While Uncle Andrews, Captain Edward, and all of the officers stood in the first class smoking room discussing the events of the next day, Ellen Whitehouse slipped away. With quick familiarity, the young girl made her way to the bow.

She cleared her mind; let all her thoughts run together in the falling rain. Her hands gripped the cold, wet metal of the ship's railing as small beads of water cascaded down her skin. The droplets falling from the sky were soft but thick, drawing intricate patterns on every surface. It was a beautiful melody they created as they fell equally on metal and wood alike, not caring about the difference in strength or price.

"You like the rain?" asked a familiar voice from behind her. Harry. She didn't need to turn to know that it was him. She nodded, unable to speak for a brief moment. He was silently examining her; Ellen could feel it. "Why do wear that necklace all the time?" the young officer spoke up finally. The question took her by surprise; she hadn't been expecting him to say that. Spinning quickly to face him, Ellen sighed deeply. Vaguely, she registered how very attractive he looked when he was wet. Mentally, she shook the thought.

"You don't want to know," the brunette told him with a roll of her eyes.

"If I didn't want to know, Ellen, I never would have asked." Much to her displeasure, he made a valid point.

"I've never—" she paused nervously, "I've never r-really talked…to anyone…about it."

Harry looked at her with interest as though expecting her to continue. Ellen sighed again and looked out away from him. If she was going to tell this story, there was no way she'd be able to do it while looking him directly in the eyes.

"About three years ago," she began, "my mother passed away. I-I remember…that she had been sick for a long time and…the physicians, they said they-they couldn't…do anything. She would just lie there and…look so helpless…so pale," her eyes teared at the memory, "and I, I felt so…inadequate, useless. All I could do was stand there and…watch her waste away," she paused, letting her voice strengthen. "One day, she called me into her room just to tell me that she didn't want me to take her necklace. She said…that she wanted me to move on and not dwell in the past. If I owned that piece of jewelry…she thought it would be a constant reminder of her absence. And she didn't…want that for me. Her telling me that though…I knew she was saying goodbye…because she didn't think she'd have another chance. I couldn't stand that thought. I couldn't stand the idea of her not being there. I told her no, I told her she wasn't supposed to say goodbye yet, that she would get better. My mother had always wanted to be apart of this ships maiden voyage and I told her that she had to live at least long enough to join me. But she-she just…shook her head and looked away from me, said she was tired. I got up from that wooden chair and went straight to bed. I hadn't slept in days so as soon as my head hit the pillow, I just died.

"The next morning, when I woke up…everything was so dark, so still, so quiet, as though even the floorboards were afraid to squeak…and I just—I just knew. No one had to say even one word, because I already knew. I told everyone that I just needed…one more minute alone with her. They all left, and for a while, I just…stood there, hoping beyond all hope that she was just asleep. But she wasn't. At first, I thought about just walking out the door and telling them I was done but…that necklace. Any memory I had of her, she was wearing that necklace. So I took it. Fastened it around my neck and no one ever knew the difference." She stopped, still looking off into the distance with a dazed expression. Even now, the rain was coming down, harder though, and Ellen could feel Harry's eyes on her, scrutinizing her features. But, for whatever reason, she didn't really mind that much.

- - -

April 10th, 1912

It was sailing day. The Titanic was finally setting off and Ellen was more than a little excited. She had been out on the sea with the ship before, for the fitting and her short voyage from Belfast to Southampton, but both times, there had been no passengers. She may not have enjoyed most of their company, but without them, the ship just didn't feel complete.

She joined in their sending off, waving at the crowd below even though there was really no one for her to wave at. She supposed the point was more about tradition than an actual goodbye. Besides, the elation of the crowd was contagious; it was nearly impossible, unless you were a part of the crew, to stand on that deck and not scream your farewells, whether in tacit gestures or jubilant words. Those in first class would severely frown upon her if they had seen how closely she mingled with steerage.

It went by quickly really. One moment, they were on board waving ecstatically and the next they were filtering back to their rooms. Not Ellen though, she had an odd stirring in the pit of her stomach as she stared back at the retreating shoreline from her place near Titanic's stern. She couldn't quite decipher it, that sensation, almost as though that strip of land was calling her back, desperately tugging at some invisible rope around her waist without much success. She shoved away the emotion, not understanding or desiring its presence.

"Ellen," said a familiar voice from behind her. She didn't respond, in fact she barely heard it, "Ellen," her uncle said slightly louder. She turned around, giving him a questioning look. "Are you alright?" Andrews asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Fine," she reassured him with a small smile. How long had she been out there? The shoreline was gone now and sun was quickly following it. Had that feeling really made such an impact?

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," Ellen took his arm and began walking back toward the first class entrance. "You worry too much. How did you find me anyway?"

"This is the officer's promenade, you should know that. Moody and Lowe spotted you from the bridge but couldn't abandon their posts."

"Am I so unlucky that both are on duty at once?"

"I thought you liked the officers, Ellen."

"I do. That's the problem; if they are both on duty at the same time then there will be four hours, several times a day, when they will leave me alone with only the first class passengers to entertain me."

He laughed lightly, "You need not worry, it's only until the passengers from Queenstown have boarded." She smiled approvingly.

"So how many people, may I ask, shall I be forced to meet?" He shook his head with a small smile before, without answering, opening the door and pulling her into "the battle zone." By the looks of the crowd, it was going to be a long night. And the travelers from France and Ireland hadn't even arrived yet. She sighed heavily before putting on her most charming smile.

- - -

Those hours of introduction, if it had even been that long, had been the most prolonged, the most boring of her entire life. Sadly, she wasn't done yet but she did have a short break. It would be around half an hour before the passengers from Cherbourg came aboard so she quickly retreated to the bow, her most beloved space on the entire ship. Night had fallen over Titanic, bathing it in a blanket of deep blue, the moon and her handmaidens reflected in the endless ocean.

"Well you certainly look glum," James informed her as he came to stand against the railing, "who died?" She glared back at him.

"Every first class person on board, and if they haven't, they certainly act that way."

"I bet you fit right in," he told her sarcastically, pulling out a cigarette from his pocket.

"That's a laugh," she looked at the cylinder of paper and tobacco he was currently lighting with disgust. "Why do you smoke those?"

"I think you've asked me that about fifty-two times now," James said, smoke pouring from his lips as he spoke. She'd bet anything, he timed that deliberately.

"You're being overly dramatic."

"I've been counting."

Ellen rolled her eyes jokingly, "Well even if you were right, it's not like you ever answer. So let's make it fifty-three: why do you feel the need to smoke those?"

"Because it bothers you."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"Why do you tease poor Ellen, Moody?" asked a very distinctive Welsh accent. Ellen turned around to see Harry, in the same black uniform as James, looking at her, instead of the man he was questioning, with a charming smile. She smiled back.

"I live to annoy Ms. Whitehouse." The young girl's eyes reluctantly left Harry's.

"You know I hate to be called that," she informed him.

James looked down at her innocently, "Do you? I had no idea."

"Actually," Harold said suddenly, "I was sent to tell you that you're needed back at the bridge. We're about to set anchor."

"So you didn't just come for the pleasure of my company," Ellen asked with playful disappointment.

"No," he told her with a sigh, "that was just an additional benefit." As she gave a good-natured chuckle, Moody dropped the barely used cigarette over the railing.

"And now you pollute the fish with that ash?" Ellen exclaimed in shock. He looked at her in astonishment.

"It's one cigarette! It only occupies a centimeter of water in the ocean. I don't think the fish will know the difference."

"You don't know what could happen." With a roll of his eyes, James pushed himself from his leaned position against the railing. Her mind quickly changed its course as the other officer began to leave as well, "I will see you tomorrow Harry, won't I?"

"Of course, I'll make a conscious effort to find you."

"Will you forget?" she asked, uncertainty lingering in her voice.

"How could I ever forget you Ellen?" She couldn't help but smile, inside and out, at that remark.

"G'night Harry, g'night James."

"G'night," Moody threw over his shoulder.

In a soft voice Harry finally replied, "G'night Ellen."

I hope it's not too cheesy! Tell me what you think, just press the little review button and perhaps…something…cool…will…happen…

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