April 10, 1912

Anna Marie sat at a table at a bar next to her brother Kurt, cigar smoke in the air as she hid her hair under a cap. She could feel the stares on her, but she didn't care much right this moment. Women were rare to see in the pubs in England, but they mostly let her be if she had a male counterpart accompanying her.

Not that ah really need 'em. Ah can handle myself, thank you very much.

Right now, she was focused on the card game Kurt was playing currently, an intense game with a very lucrative prize:

Two third-class tickets aboard the Titanic.

She held a set of cards in her hand, watching the two Swedish men who were sitting across the table from them, each of them fighting for the chance to board the Titanic.

Kurt had a cigarette in his mouth, and the man sat closest to Anna Marie was nursing a glass of whisky, as the other man uttered something to him in his native tongue, his body language indicating that he wasn't happy.

Probably givin' him an earful about bettin' their tickets.

"Well, moment of truth everyone…." Kurt broke the tension. "Someone's life is about to change." He looked at her. "Anna?"

She slowly put down her hand. "Nothin'." Kurt seemed disappointed but gave her a small smile.

"Olaf?" The man next to Anna Marie folded, showing no cards as well.

"Sven?"

The man wearing a hat put down his hand. "Two pair."

Kurt had a look on his face. "Two pair." He looked at Anna Marie. "Sister, I'm sorry."

Her face fell. "Kurt, no, you bet everythin' we had-"

"I'm sorry." He cut her off. "You won't get to see your friend Betsy for a long time."

There was a pause as his words sank in.

"We're going to America! Full house!" He slammed his cards on the table with a loud yell.

She let out a shriek of delight, and they were hugging each other.

"Oh my God! We did it! We're going to the States!"

Kurt grabbed the tickets off the table, and was in the middle of grabbing the money off the table when he was stopped by Olaf's hand, and words uttered in Swedish with an angry look on his face as his fist raised in the air.

Just as Anna Marie was about to pull Kurt away, Olaf changed direction, and punched Sven in the jaw, knocking him backwards, the entire bar erupting into laughter.

Anna Marie hugged her brother. "Ah'm goin' back! Ah'm goin' home!"

"I'm finally going to America!" Kurt exclaimed.

"No, lad." The barkeep said from across the room. "The Titanic is going to America." He points at the clock. "In five minutes."

Anna Marie and Kurt both stared, wide-eyed, at each other, and uttered the word at the same time.

"Shit."

They grabbed their stuff, the money, the tickets, and made like mad people to the ship.

Max Eisenhardt stood in the center of his stateroom, watching as possessions were unloaded and placed around the room: paintings and clothes and things that held more monetary value than sentimental. He had insisted on carrying what was important to him: a briefcase carrying pencils and paints, the hidden passion of the cold and aloof businessman.

"God, not these finger paintings again." The voice of his business partner, Charles Xavier, came through a doorway, a glass of champagne in his hand. "Why did you waste your money on these again, old friend?"

Max simply raised a brow. "The difference between your taste and mine, old friend, is that I have some. I find the paintings fascinating."

One in particular caught Charles' eye. "What's the artist's name again?"

"Picasso."

"Picasso? You can't be serious. He'll never amount to anything, mark my words."

Max rolled his steel blue eyes. "Oh, do shut up, Charles. I didn't buy them for you, now did I?"

"God, I hope not. You know better than to gift me with art, Max."

"No, you would rather I sign off on your lavish spending on Moira that you don't want me to know about."

A chuckle. "That was one weekend, and I can't believe you still hold it over my head."

"And I will continue to hold it over your head until you are cold in the ground." A rare, sly smile.

"Speaking of women…." The ship staff brought in a safe. "Um, put it in the wardrobe."

Max's eyes glanced at the safe being carted into the room. The items inside were of significant value, mostly legal documents. Life insurance policies, last will and testaments. But there was also a highly valuable item safely tucked in the safe.

The Heart of the Ocean.

"I still can't believe you found it."

"I told you I would find something that would impress Miss Michaels."

"But it's so gaudy Charles. I'm tempted to have it cut down further." Max had a disapproving look on his face.

"You will do no such thing, Eisenhardt. That is a priceless diamond, once owned by King Louis-"

"Yes, yes, I know the God-awful history of the thing, no need to repeat yourself." Max dismissed him in an annoyed tone. "But I suppose it will be up to her to decide."

"Cassandra Michaels is the type of woman to wear the Heart of the Ocean with pride, Max. She is an heiress after all. Nothing but the best."

Max didn't make any remark, busying himself with anything but the conversation at hand.

She felt free.

They had made it onboard with seconds to spare, their bags carrying all they owned. She couldn't believe their luck. The Titanic was setting sail for New York, and they were onboard.

Finally.

She had dreamt of this moment for years. She hadn't been home to America in 10 years, not since her parents had died and she had been sent to live with her aunt in Ireland. The last ten years had been tumultuous to say the least, but she had found one good thing.
Kurt, though not her blood, was her brother in name, and had been by her side for most of the last decade. She dared not think about what her life would be like without him.

They settled into the bunks, and had gone exploring the Titanic, marveling at the size and grandeur of the ship.

Now, standing on the boat deck, she felt as if a weight had been lifted. They were going to America.

She barely heard the voice calling behind her over the wind.

"Long time, no see, chère."

She felt dread in her stomach. She knew that voice.

Ah, hell.

She turned to see a man who was familiar to her, one that she had hoped to never see again.

"Must be fate that we are onboard together, no?" He smiled.

God, she hated that smile. He was so sure of himself, so sickeningly charming.

"Ah would hardly call it fate, Remy. Mere chance is more like it."

"Oh, come now, chère, at least look somewhat happy to see me."

"That would imply that ah'm actually happy to see you, which ah'm not. Now if you'll excuse me-"

She went to move past him, but he grabbed her arm.

"Now now, don't be gettin' all upset, chère. I was just tryin' to be friendly is all."

She arched a brow and looked up at him. "You said the same thing when ah caught you with Belladonna. How is she, by the way?" She asked in a condescending tone.

His face changed to one of surprise and she was able to pull her arm away from him.

"Thought so." She walked away from him, absolutely annoyed now, when she should be happy to be on this ship.

Screw you, Remy LeBeau.