Disclaimer: I don't own Titanic. Period. End of sentence. If I did, I probably wouldn't be writing this fanfiction right now...I'd be making it a movie! R/R!

Chapter 4: The Waltz

April 10th, 1912

Cherbourg. A beautiful city really; Ellen wished they could have boarded closer to the shore, but instead Titanic put down her anchor a mile away and ferried the passengers over. The first group of people she met was by far the most promising.

Mr. Emil Taussig was twenty-nine years old and an extremely tall man, six-foot-four at least, with straight, onyx hair and gentle brown eyes. His wife, Charlotte, was much shorter, around Ellen's height. Her darkly red hair was pinned at the top of her head, as fashion demanded, and contrasted brilliantly with the emerald green of her eyes. Youngest of the Taussigs was Marjorie, Emil's younger sister, whose blonde hair was pinned in much the same fashion as her sister-in-law's and with the same color, though paled in shade, of eyes. Lastly, her fiancé, Mr. William Hipkins, had a similar shade of hair as his betrothed, though his eyes had more of a hazel hue. All-in-all they were a very handsome group and much more pleasant to speak with than the rest of their class, though Emil and Marjorie's deep French accent made it difficult to communicate with at times. However, it was Charlotte's remark, on hearing Ellen's last name, that really intrigued the young brunette.

"Are you of any relation to George Whitehouse?" she asked almost immediately.

"He is my cousin," she had replied trying to hold back a grimace. She had never liked George. He made her feel an unpleasant stirring in the pit of her stomach. His amiable mask was all too visible to her eyes and, it seemed, just the opposite to the rest of the world. He simply oozed false charm. "May I ask how you know him?"

"Why, he is on board of course," Mr. Taussig spoke up. Ellen tried, with everything in her not to look stunned and somewhat appalled. Her cousin? On board? Why was she cursed with such sour luck? And why had Uncle Andrews not informed her? He would have been perfectly aware of his name on the manifest, so why keep it a secret? Her charming smile, however, did not falter.

"Oh is he?" she answered sweetly, "I wonder why I was not told?" The others may have been fooled but Thomas was perfectly aware of her slight aggravation at him. Perhaps he could see the fire in her eyes or, more likely, it was the pain he felt as she squeezed his arm, which was looped through hers, so tightly he wondered if it was really a five foot four girl that was gripping that appendage or a well built man instead.

"Perhaps it was a surprise?" Marjorie suggested excitedly, looking toward her fiancé who smiled merely affectionately in response.

"Well, I'm surprised alright. Did he say anything of me?"

"I remember him mentioning that he had a cousin who couldn't waltz," Ellen's face fell slightly at Charlotte's comment, "but he couldn't have been speaking of you." The woman in question smiled as though reassured, but in her mind she knew he must have meant her. She was only cousin he had. However she resolved not to let the comment get to her.

- - -

One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. Ellen counted her steps in her head as she watched her feet closely, her arms poised as though her waltzing partner was before her. She would get this dance down perfectly if it was the last thing she ever did. One, two, three. One, two, thr—

"It helps if you have a partner."

Ellen spun around startled and obviously embarrassed toward a very amused looking Harold Lowe.

"I-I—well I was practicing," she finally got out.

"Why?"

Ellen sighed, "Someone said I wasn't good at waltzing." His handsome young face broke into a smile.

"If you had a partner, it may be easier to practice." He put out his hand, offering it to her. Hesitantly, she reached forward and gently laid her slender fingers into his palm. She stepped forward quickly and positioned the other hand on his shoulder. He placed his on her waist.

"You know," she said trying to make conversation, "I've noticed that you know everything about me but I don't know hardly anything about you." It was true. She had practically divulged her entire life story but he was still a mystery to her; still, neither of them was looking at the other. Apparently, even though both knew the steps, they had forgotten what they were without watching their feet.

"Wait," he said, pulling his hands from her and stepping back a few feet, "stop!"

"What?" She stepped backward as well.

"Listen. Ellen…you're a girl."

"Thank you for that input, Harry. Without your help I might have never known."

"That's not what I meant."

"How else, may I ask, am I supposed to take that?"

He ignored her slightly offensive tone, "You're a girl, I'm a boy. You are supposed to follow, not lead."

"Oh," she said, his point dawning on her, "but I don't know—."

"Every time I make a move, do what I do. Instead of you showing me what to do, I'll show you." She nodded nervously.

"O-okay."

"It starts before the dance even begins. I step toward you—,"

"And so do I," for both, their actions mirrored their words. He smiled slightly.

"I place my hand here…" it went to her waist, gentler than she had noticed before, and sent a small shock through her body. She swallowed hard.

"And mine goes here," his shoulder.

"My hand goes up…"

"And I take it." She hadn't remembered her fingers shaking that way before. Luckily he hadn't taken off those black officer's gloves otherwise, she was sure she would have been very aware of every centimeter of that exposed skin. And then the steps began again. One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three. She wasn't counting to keep track of her movements anymore though. Now the action served a different purpose: to keep her mind off how very close to her he was. "So," she began again, her speaking serving the same purpose as before: to break the tension, "you never answered my statement."

"What statement?" he asked, question lingering behind deeply brown eyes.

"You know so much about me, but I know nothing of you."

"What would you like to know?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment, "Anything," Ellen answered finally, "anything at all."

"Hmmm, well I ran away when I was fourteen."

"Whatever for?"

"My father wanted me to be an apprentice but I was not going to work for anyone for nothing…I wanted to get paid for my labor."

"Seems like a silly reason to run away, Harry."

"It was, but it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Did you ever go back?"

"No, of course not."

"But why?! If you have seen the error in your ways why haven't you gone back?" Harry looked back at her sadly. "Are you too stubborn?" he didn't answer but the confirmation was in his eyes. She nodded quickly, moving on, "And after that?"

"I worked as a ship's boy on Welsh coastal schooners for about ten years, then I got my Second Mate's certificate and two years later my First Mate's certificate." She was quiet, not wanting to ask the question screaming in her mind.

"What's the matter?" he asked. Why did she have to be so easily read? She looked up, not with her head but with her eyes, and she couldn't help but give him an honest answer.

"Why haven't you gone back to your family, Harry? They were probably worried sick."

"I can't, Ellen."

"You can't," she began with an edge to her voice, "or you won't?"

"I just can't," that angry tone had grown contagious.

"Harry—."

"You don't know what you're talking about Ellen." She found it slightly strange, somewhere in the back of her mind, that they could still continue the waltz calmly even though both were steadily growing more irritated at the other.

"Temper, temper," she reprimanded bitterly.

"Well, what do you know about it?"

"I know that you should never take advantage of the family you have, or one day you may wake up without them!"

Understanding burst into his eyes, softness returning quickly after it, "Ellen," no one had ever said her voice with so much meaning behind it before, "I'm sorry."

"No," Ellen replied with a sigh, "I'm the one who should be sorry. I never should have gotten so angry at you."

"Your right, it is your fault," he told her jokingly.

"Now I wouldn't go that far, Harry," her face bloomed into a smile. The steps had come to a halt for a moment, but now they began once more, only this time, as Ellen took that first step forward, her foot gracefully caught the hem of her satin dress and sent her entire body falling forward. She would have thought that twenty-one years of wearing the exact same kind of dresses would have prevented such mishap. However if Harry's hands, which were securely fastened around her elbows and the only thing keeping her from tumbling face-first into the wooden deck, were any indication, she had obviously been wrong in her assumption.

After recovering from the suddenness of the accident, that particular tension in her stomach seemed to fade into amused laughter mirroring that of the man holding her up. She tilted her head upward only to have her giggles die once more. One inch. That's how much space stood between Harry's lips and hers; she had no doubt about that measurement. One inch. He seemed to have noticed as well. Her deeply brown orbs flickered restlessly between his eyes and mouth with silent but quickened breath. Butterflies were wreaking havoc in her stomach and she was caught between wanting him to kiss her and wondering if it would get him into trouble. She had never been in a silence so deafening, even the ocean's roar had been drowned out.

"I—," Ellen began, cutting herself short and letting out a deep breath. "It's late. I should probably—." He nodded nervously, cutting her off.

"You must be—," his voice was as whispery as hers.

"Yes, I am. And you should—."

"I will." It took them both a moment to move as they had said they would. Neither wanted to, but neither would admit that. He pushed her to her feet with more care than was really necessary and took a step backward. With hands clasped in front of her daintily, she stared at the floorboards, embarrassed.

"Your uncle will be worried about you," Harry told her suddenly. Ellen merely nodded in response before turning sharply and heading off in the direction of the staterooms. She really was tired.

"Harry," she had stopped walking now.

"Yes, Ellen?" he inquired from behind her.

"Thank you for the dancing lesson."

"Your welcome," looking over her shoulder she could see him smile, "I just hope you can keep your balance next time."

Laughing lightly, she answered, "You're not the only one."

- - -

Ellen headed down the elaborately decorated hallway in the direction of her room, however, before going to bed, she, as always, stopped by Uncle Andrew's suite to say goodnight. Poking her head through the open entryway the young woman was not surprised to see her uncle meticulously going over the corrections he thought needed to be made on the ship he was aboard. She doubted anyone would notice them in Titanic's later voyages but she didn't think it right to spoil his fun.

"Uncle Andrews," she called, gaining his attention, "I came to say goodnight."

He smiled good-naturedly before replying, "Goodnight Ellen. I will see you in the morning." She nodded with a grin and began to continue her walk toward her suite. "Oh, and Ellen," she heard him call before she had moved a mere two steps away. She looked back into the stateroom, "We're having lunch with Mr. Ismay and some other passengers tomorrow."

"I'll be there, Uncle."

With a mischievous smile he continued on, "I know Mr. Lowe is a very handsome man, but try not to be late, would you?"

Her cheeks blushed lightly, "I will try." Without waiting for anymore of his teasing, she turned and walked to bed. She didn't know how well she would sleep though, for even while she walked though Titanic's luxurious halls and into the Georgian styled room only one thing, or rather, person, plagued her mind. Harry. She plopped into bed with a sigh; it was going her be a very longnight.

A/N Alright so there you have it! Chapter four! I hope you liked it. Oh and a side-note: I went back and put in dates for chapters 2 and 3. I'll be doing it that way for the rest of the story just to make it less confusion...of couse I'll stop when I get to the sinking because that might be a tad tedious. I also changed the color of the officer's uniforms in chapter 3 because when i watch the movie again I realized they only look blue sometimes. Ok I'm done rambling now! REVIEW...no flames though...