April 11, 1912

The morning sun brought warmth, and amazingly good lighting as Max sat on a lounge chair on the promenade, the charcoal pencil in his hand moving in strokes as he sketched in his book, his mind drifting back to the events of the night before.

He had gone to bed with the image of the beautiful siren who had nearly fallen into the water, a woman who's name he was kicking himself for not catching. He was certain someone had called out to her and caused her to stumble, but there had been no one when he and the man she called her brother had finally pulled her back onto the deck.

It was strange. The mysterious voice, the man she called 'brother' who didn't speak with the same inflection she did, and the woman who's name he did not know.

He shook his thoughts away, looking up and finding the couple he had been sketching had moved on, likely heading for the lounge.

But there, there she was.

She hadn't seen him yet, taking in the sunrise. Her hair was pinned back, loose curls framing her face and blowing in the ocean breeze.

He watched her for a moment before calling out to her.

"Miss?"

She turned as she heard his voice, thinking it sounded just like….

"Mister…Eisenhardt, right?" She asked as her green eyes, dear God those eyes, fell on him.

He nodded. She remembered.

Blast it all, Max. She remembered your name and you didn't ask for hers. You idiot.

"Correct. I must apologize, miss, but I did not get your name."

She smiled a little. "My name's Anna Marie, Mister Eisenhardt." She spoke with that American Southern twang to her voice.

"Anna Marie…" He seemed to test the name on his tongue before motioning to the lounge chair next to him. "Would you care to join me?"

She took notice of the sketchbook in his hand and walked closer to him. "Are you an artist, Mister Eisenhardt?"

"I'm not very good at hiding it, I'm afraid." His dry response as she sat down.

She chuckled slightly. "May I?" She held out her hand for his sketchbook.

He passed over his book, and she flipped through the pages delicately. Each page revealed a new sketch of someone new, in places she had never been.

"Wow….these are incredible…."

"I wouldn't necessarily call them incredible, but thank you."

She looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. "You're not good at this acceptin' compliments thing, Mister Eisenhardt."

He laughed at that. "Please. Call me Max. And I can take a compliment just fine."

"Uh huh." She handed the book back to him. "Ah'm serious. You're very talented."

"Thank you."

"See? Was that so hard?" She teased.

He couldn't help the smile that came to his face. "Fair point."

There was a pause before she spoke again. "Ah know ah told ya this a couple times already, but…thanks. For helpin' me out last night."

"You're quite welcome. I'm glad to see you are not too terribly shaken by the experience."

She shook her head. "Nah, ah'm fine, thanks to you and Kurt."

"Kurt is your….brother, yes?" He tried not to sound skeptical when he said it.

"Yes. We're not actually related, but he's still family." She explained. "We grew up together, in an orphanage."

His facial expression changed to one of empathy. "Oh. Forgive me for prying."

She shook her head quickly. "Oh no, ah take no offense, really. Kurt and ah….we been attached at the hip for about, oh, eight years now? Don't know where ah'd be without him, to be honest." She smiled as she spoke of her brother.

"In the icy waters of the Atlantic, for starters." He quipped.

She laughed. He found it a rather melodic sound.

"Okay, ah deserved that." She admitted.

He quite liked seeing the way she smiled.

"May I ask…how did you end up in an orphanage? What happened to your family?"

"Ah was born and raised in America, but my parents both got real sick, and when they died, my mama's sister brought me across to Ireland to live with her. Well, to say she and ah didn't get along was an understatement, so she shipped me off to an orphanage, and that's where ah met Kurt." She concisely explained.

He wasn't sure how to describe his feelings at what she had just told him. Flabbergasted was a word that came to mind.

"Didn't get along. That was her reasoning for sending you to an orphanage?"

"Sounds really silly, ah know. But she would get real mean, and finally, one day, ah got mean right back." She shrugged. "It is what it is."

He uttered a word in German under his breath that he thought she couldn't hear, but she had an amused expression on her face. "You said it, not me."

"Forgive me, that was very crude."

"Nah, ah've heard far worse, believe me." She smiled.

"So….why the journey back to America? Are there other relatives waiting for you?"

"Ah've got a distant cousin off somewhere in Virginia, ah think. But goin' back ain't about that. My brother….he's never been to America, never been anywhere but the orphanage or wherever we laid our heads for the night. Ah wanna give him that dream, ya know? The dream that everythin' is possible in America, no matter where you're from. Everybody gets a chance. Ah want to show him every beautiful thing this great big land has to offer."

She realized she was rambling, and caught him staring at her. She chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Ah'm sorry….ah didn't mean to get all philosophical on ya…."

"It's quite alright. You want your brother to have the same equal opportunity as everyone else who graces the shore of America. It's a beautiful and noble dream, Anna Marie."

She smiled and raised a brow. "And what about you, Max? What's a well-to-do man like you doing on the Titanic, headin' to America?"

"My reasons are a bit more mundane, I'm afraid. A business deal of sorts."

"Ah see."

"I like your reason a lot better."

"Well, maybe once your business deal is completed, you can do a little explorin' of your own. We might cross paths again one day."

"It's a rather big country, I hear. What are the chances that you and I would just run into each other at, say, Yellowstone?"

"We met on a ship, Max. Anythin' is possible."

She found him intriguing. This man who was clearly wealthy, well-off, who had every reason to avoid someone like her. But he seemed so….different. He didn't speak down to her, he actually seemed to enjoy their conversation, even if she could tell there was a bit of austerity to his presence. He seemed both outside of his element, yet seemed most comfortable with speaking to her. It was odd, but not unwelcome.

She bid him farewell after their chat, finding it interesting that despite being part of the stiff upper class, he enjoyed nature and art, two hobbies that she was sure he did not get to indulge in often. She saw the way his icy blue eyes would warm, the way he would smile slightly when she told him of all the places she wanted to show Kurt when they got to America.

She rounded the corner, not knowing that Remy LeBeau had been watching the exchange from afar.