AN: So, went on my trip, wrote 10,000 words on my notes app on the various flights and in the hotel room. Just can't help myself I guess.

After lunch Mother retired to the reading room while I set off again for the officer's mess. This situation needed to be handled quickly. The engines were running smoothly, the ship pulling away from Ireland at a fast clip. So much so that whatever breeze there was was offset by the wind of our passage. Fortunately it was blowing towards me, so i was spared the ignominy of having to pull my hair away from my face. I approached the officer's mess, glancing through the window. It was only Will, more than likely he had just gotten off his watch and was helping himself to some much needed food.

I strode in, closing the door firmly behind me and reaching over to draw the shade. I then sat across from him, his eyes bulging. I kept myself composed, holding onto some resolve deep down. "We need to talk."

"Miss Dalian, this is not the place." He set his fork down. "Nor the time."

"I needed a private place." I set my jaw, drawing in a firm breath. "I am going to tell you what happened that night and why you are nothing like that man."

"You do not need to."

"I do Mr. Murdoch, and you will listen." I drew in another breath, trying to calm the inevitable quiver in my voice. "It was three years ago, at a party for some opera or some other artistic endeavor. I will admit to having drunk too much champagne, and I thought Zachary Reichster to be nothing more than an annoying acquaintance, but not a threat. So when he offered me a cigarette, which I had never had before, I followed him to a hallway. It would be a fun story to share, an illicit smoke while the debutantes batted their eyes." I could feel the damn wrenching in my chest, my voice warbling. "He then attempted to draw me further on, to a bedroom, his hands going ... everywhere. It was only by grabbing a candelabra and striking him with it I was able to escape. I ran to my parents, and have done my best to avoid the cad but he inevitably rears his ugly head."

"Damn it," I muttered as I could feel tears pricking at my eyes, "I always do this."

There was a scraping against the floor as Will pushed his chair away, coming to sit beside me. I felt his hand on my back, rubbing it gently. "You don't have to say anymore."

I sniffed, trying to force the tears away. "No, I do. You have been kind to me and I do not want you to think in anyway you are like him. What you did was nothing like that." I quickly pulled out the handkerchief, wrapping it around my fingers. "I had intended to give this to you, a peace offering, but would you mind if I used it?"

"No, here," He took it from my hands, gently wiping at whatever tears had escaped. "That was a great cruelty that man did to you."

"Yes."

We sat in silence, him folding the handkerchief up and putting it in a pocket. "How old were you?"

"Twenty-two."

"So that would make you twenty-five now."

"Yes, and you?"

"Thirty-nine."

"Married?"

"Once, she passed four years ago. Cholera."

I saw his eyes begin to tear. I placed a hand on his arm, squeezing it. "I'm sorry."

"I try not to think about it much."

I struggled to find something to say. "I imagine distraction from your thoughts is rather easy here." I reached over to grasp his hand, finally free of his gloves. "So many things to attend to."

Will wrapped his fingers around mine, the skin rough even after the protection of his gloves. "Yes, there is much distraction with a ship of this size." He pointed towards the clock on the wall. "I have to set those clocks every morning."

"All the clocks on the ship?"

"Every one."

"You must be quite fast to set every clock each morning."

Will chuckled. "Hardly, the master clocks are in the bridge. Once I change them every clock onboard changes with them."

We settled into a companionable silence, his hand still grasping mine. I leaned back in my chair. "So what else do you do every day? Can't all be talking to first class passengers."

"Well, I stand watch. I wind the clock each morning, as I said. We measure the water temperature every two hours, receive messages, and a hundred other things. Oh, and we deal with nosy passengers." He laughed a little, looking at me. "Nothing like you of course, some idiot invented a lottery based on how many miles are traveled on some steamer awhile back and it's all the rage. They try and weasel hints out of us. And what's a day like for you?"

"Oh it's quite boring, all teas and dinners and did you see who where and with what."

"I imagine a lot of clothing changes."

"Yes, heaven forbid you wear a tea dress to a dinner party." I laughed, trying to cover my mouth and be polite about it.

"What will you do now that we've had our little discussion here?" Will asked, glancing towards the clock. It was getting on in the day, soon enough there'd be a bugle call for dinner.

"Change my dress and listen to some discussion at dinner I suppose," I said, standing and brushing out my skirt. "Father has arranged it with this steel tycoon heir."

"A possible match?"

"Hardly, he's bringing his fiancée and her mother."

"You sound so thrilled." I could feel the sarcasm dripping off his voice.

"To be quite honest, Will, I much more enjoy our discussions than those I will have at dinner."

"You haven't even had those discussions yet, how could you know?"

"Believe me, if you had to sit through even one of those dinners you'd understand."

He chuckled, "I have occasionally had to endure one. I know what you mean. If you do not mind me asking, have any of those club boys you've spoke of come calling recently? Anyone of your set you fancy?"

I blinked, mind whirring. Was he interested? In me? "I have not found any of them to my liking."

"And your parents have not pushed for you to make some match to advance yourself? Or themselves?"

"My parents married for love, and my father has a large enough fortune that he has told anyone suggesting a match of that nature to walk away. I have been afforded a great many opportunities by the results of his work and I would not see it squandered by those spendthrifts." I had thought about this before, and had often been asked this question by the other society girls. They thought it was funny, the only thing one should love about their husband was the size of his account.

He stood, bringing the handkerchief up again and gently brushing at any remaining tear tracks. "You've got a good head on your shoulders then."

I watched him fold it up and tuck it into his sleeve. "Thank you, Will. That's, that's not something I hear from men very often."

"Will you still arrive early tomorrow?"

"If that works for you."

He gently gripped my hands, a slight pressure that set my heart to fluttering again. "Then until the morrow, Anastasia."

"Until tomorrow, Will."

Soon enough I was ensconced in some new dress, chiffon and beaded net over a beautiful light gray silk. I was escorted into the dining saloon by Father, Mother on his other side. My white silk gloves were bunching at my elbows, and I kept reaching over to tug them up. Father steered us towards a table, nodding at the occupants. I recognized Cal Hockley, a scandal magnet if there ever was one. The pale red haired woman next to him must be his fiancee. I tried to catch her eyes and smile, but she seemed to see right through me.

"Ah, the Dalians. A pleasure to see you once again." Cal said, rising to shake Father's hand. "My intended, Rose DeWitt Bukater and her mother, Ruth." He gestured towards the red haired woman and an older woman across from her.

"My daughter Anastasia," Father replied, handing me down into a chair. "And my wife, Ruth."

"Well, we are a matched pair then." Mrs. DeWitt Bukater replied with a slight laugh. "Rose, don't be rude, greet our guests."

Rose, her face blank, looked up. "Hello." She was pretty in a pale way, tender blue eyes and a peaches and cream complexion. Her dress set her complexion off wonderfully, beaded black tulle over red silk.

Mrs. DeWitt Bukater pursed her lips. "Please excuse her, she has been rather melancholic lately. I imagine she is nervous about her wedding, it will be so soon after we dock." She turned to Mother, "Do you suppose you could come up from New York? The invitations have been sent but you should be able to be fit in with no issue."

A waiter dipped in front of Mother, filling her wine glass and giving her a moment to respond. "If you wire me the date when you arrive I'm sure something can be arranged." The other Ruth at our table smiled widely at that and began discussing wedding preparations with Mother, not understanding that Mother had effectively sidestepped agreeing to anything. More than likely all Mrs. DeWitt Bukater would receive would be thoughtfully worded letter expressing our regret at being unable to attend, and perhaps a flower arrangement.

I watched Rose throughout dinner. She ate without tasting, spoke when spoken to, and hardly did anything without some kind of initial input, like a machine. When Cal leaned over to speak to her she gave short answers, shorter than she gave to anyone else. When I heard that her bridesmaid dresses were being done by Lucille, Lady Duff Gordon, I tried to draw her into conversation. "Her creations are rather interesting. Did she give your bridesmaid dresses a name?"

"What?" Her voice was quiet.

"I was reading in La Mode Illustrée about her gowns, she has given each a name. Has she named your gowns?"

"Oh, yes. The Joy of Helen of Troy upon Seeing Paris."

I giggled. "A bit theatrical, don't you think?" Rose slowly blinked, then sipped from her glass. That was the extent of our discussion. Dinner was interminable, the men ordering an extra round of brandy and scotch before they even adjourned to the smoking room. Around halfway through the round Rose, stood, asked for and was granted her mother's permission to leave.

I could have sworn I saw tears in her eyes.

My mother and I excused ourselves to the writing room. It was a feminine retreat, yellow and blue silk chairs clustered around dark wooden tables while potted palms stood watch. Paper and pens were spread over the tables and a Royal Mail box was attached to a wall. A large set of bookcases took up a wall, the books free to borrow for passengers a sign informed. Mother had sat down to write a letter and I had begun to look through the books when a shrill laugh cut through the silence.

"Ruth! Oh, it's been too long!" Samantha Reichster's voice was high and bubbly, almost girlish. A few other ladies were following her in, champagne flutes clutched in their hands.

"Samantha, it is so nice to see you again." Mother kept her voice calm, her pen still moving on the paper.

"Oh, just a moment." Samantha said, turning back to the door. "Zachary! Look who's here!"

My hand started to shake, and I quickly grabbed whatever book was nearest to calm it. I dropped into a chair, trying to hide myself behind a palm. I fumbled at the pages, gloves hindering my movements. Finally I managed to get it to stop, finding myself looking at a diagram of an African hippo. I ducked my head, studying the figure intensely. I heard him enter, "Why the Dalians! What a pleasure!" Footsteps, muffled by the carpet. "Ruth, you look as stunning as ever." The muffled sound again, closer now. "And 'Stasia, still burying yourself in your books, eh?"

I looked up, seeing the green eyes and slick black hair of a handsome man, the lips that made most of the girls swoon at the mere thought of kissing them. I could feel my own lips tremble, "Hello, Zachary."

"Oh come now, is that all you can say to an old friend?" He reached over and plucked the book from my hands. "An Inventory of African Species? My God, we must get you over to the concert before you turn into a bluestocking!" He carelessly threw the book onto a table, reached over and pulled me up. "It's just beyond the lounge, I'll escort you. You know Lady Duff-Gordon is there, I'm sure she has on one of her creations. Can you imagine what she must look like when she wears someone else's clothes? I can't imagine she ever did, probably designed her own diapers."

"Zachary, please." I muttered, "I don't want to go to the concert, I was hoping for a quiet night."

"Oh, Zachary, why don't you show Ruth the new tango you picked up in France before you two head off?" Samantha called out, having settled with her ladies onto a settee. Her bouncing black curls bobbed back and forth as she shook her head at me. "You must let him lead you my dear, it's so fast but quite beautiful when done correctly and Zachary has practiced it for so long. He has always said that you are his favorite partner for the tango."

"Oh, mother, you know 'Stasia is my favorite partner for all dances." He said, pulling me forward. "I was so disappointed to hear that you had quit Paris a week before we arrived. I had thought to take you to the Ritz and dance the night away. But now is just as good."

Mother stood. "It's not necessary, I'm sure we will see your dance at some point."

"Oh Ruth, please come here. Watch them!" One of Samantha's friends called out. I tried to stop, to pull myself away but his grip was strong and he quickly pulled me up against him. Even without music he kept excellent time, my feet stumbling while his were sure in guiding us around a clear area. His fingers dug into my waist, and I had to grab at his shoulders to stop from falling as I instinctively tried to pull myself away. We moved quickly, and I could hardly catch Mother's eye. I actually couldn't see her until Zachary stopped, his hand moving farther down from my waist in some finishing move that sent me leaning far away, only supported by his hand.

"Wasn't that marvelous, Ruth?" Samantha said, applauding. "I hope you were asking that stewardess for some more champagne, I'm out!" That set off a loud round of laughter, all of her friends agreeing and asking that more drinks be brought. Mother had resumed her seat at her writing table, her head down.

"It was very nice, quite fast." Mother spoke calmly, although I could see by the set of her jaw she was furious.

"But that's not all, and I know how much you love to waltz, 'Stasia dear, so I learned this one too." Zachary said, pulling me closer. "It's quite easy, just follow my lead." He moved his face closer to mine, his voice dropping to a whisper. "God, you're a vision. And that dress, so becoming." I was suddenly aware of the relatively low neckline of the dress, and the fact that this close he could see right down to the very last bits of skin on display. "Just, follow me love. You know I'd never let you fall."

"Zachary, please, I am very tired."

"You weren't tired at the Vanderbilt party when we shared that cigarette, and that was at midnight. I've seen you dance until six in the morning."

"I haven't been sleeping well on the ship." I lied, feeling my skin crawl as his hand moved down my arm to grip my hand. His fingers wound between mine, their grip strong and sure.

"Oh 'Stasia, you don't lie well, you know that." Zachary dropped his head down, "Now, one, two, three. One, two, three." His voice rose as he began to spin, pulling me along with him. The graceful waltz, my favorite dance, now felt disgusting as he reversed and stepped closer to me. I moved away, but he followed quickly, and reversed again as he pulled me closer. My stomach roiled as he laughed, "So graceful, isn't she Mother?"

"Of course, Zachary. You two always did make a good match for a waltz." Samantha called out, before turning to her group and beginning yet another round of gossip. "Have you heard what the Fishes are planning for Easter? She's got something with that Lehr of hers planned out."

I felt myself miss a step, stumbling into him. I tried to move back and he held me in a grip of steel. "I'm sorry, I tripped."

"Oh, it's no problem 'Stasia." He replied, stepping up against me so he was practically pressed against me. "Like I said, I'll never let you fall. You know that, don't you? After all, what's a little stubbed toe between the two of us? You're usually so light on your feet, must not have expected to be dancing tonight. Or am I to assume that you've finally fallen for me?"

"I just tripped, Zachary. Now please, I am tired."

"Surely one more round?"

"No, please let me go." I said, tugging against his grip.

"Come on, the concert should be starting soon." He acted as if he didn't hear me, instead pulling me along as he moved towards the door. "We'll get a seat up close, and maybe we can show off our new dances for everyone. I'm sure you'll have all the other girls jealous."

The door clicked as someone from outside opened it. A familiar voice, a Scottish brogue lilting against the words slightly, spoke. "Pardon me ladies, I just wanted to ensure that you have everything you need." Will had entered the reading room, his hand held in his hands by the shining patent leather brim. I tried to say something, but all I could feel was Zachary's hands and my voice died in my throat. Will couldn't get me away from him, not without some incident.

"Please, more champagne!" Samantha called out, not even bothering to look at who was standing there.

Will looked over, his face calm and composed as he saw Zachary and I. "And you, sir?"

"We're going to the concert, if you'll excuse us." He replied, tugging me along.

I will gladly admit to the fall being completely intentional, but my foot actually turning was not intended and I quickly grabbed at my ankle. "Oh!"

Will was kneeling next to me in an instant, "Are you alright, Miss?"

"I think I have turned my ankle," I panted, and quickly summoned some weak cry of pain when he brought his hand up to gingerly touch it. I only had to add a little onto it, it really did hurt. "Please, do you think you could help me back to my cabin, sir?"

"Help her up and I will see her to the concert, and then to her cabin." Zachary said, reaching out a hand.

"Sir, I actually fear we may have to summon the ship's doctor. I would not want to keep you from your entertainment." Will replied, gently probing at my ankle. I gave a whimper, pressing my hand to my forehead as if I might faint.

"Really Zachary, go enjoy the concert." I tried to summon a weak smile. "I'm sure this man will be able to help me."

There was a sudden flutter of feminine movement coming from the couches and chairs that had been commandeered. A flurry of chiffon and lace descended as the ladies gathered around, their hands reaching out as if to offer some comfort without actually touching me.

"Oh Anastasia!"

"Sweetheart, does it hurt terribly?"

"You poor dear, please sir, summon the doctor straight away!"

Mother cut through them. "Please ladies, I am her mother, I will handle it." She walked over, and I sniffed loudly. "Sir, please take her to her cabin and summon the doctor. Zachary, I am afraid I will have to insist on her resting. I hope you enjoy the concert." Her smile was brittle when she turned to him, and he quickly made some flustered remark and left the room. Will helped me up, and I stumbled into him when I tried to put weight on my foot.

I mumbled an apology, but he waved it away. "Not a problem Miss, let's get you moving."

He supported me quite well, without having to throw my arm over his shoulder but merely holding my arm in a firm but gentle grip and letting me lean on him. He was perfectly professional, nodding to those who saw us and giving our deck to the lift attendant. I managed to hold everything together until we exited the lift. The passageways were deserted, only a steward making his way past us. I could feel my breathing getting ragged as his footsteps faded, and as soon as they were gone I fell apart.

I did not cry. I did not shed tears or bawl my heart out. I merely felt my confidence crumble and my limbs begin shaking uncontrollably. Will reached over, grabbing my other hand. "Anastasia, what is happening?"

I couldn't speak, could only try to draw breath, but it felt like I was choking. Like Zachary's hands were still on me and were slowly choking the life out of me. I couldn't stand, and Will quickly threw his arms around me and lifted my feet off the ground. My head was on his shoulder, and I could feel him breathe. But I couldn't, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. He continued on, and I heard him open my cabin door and suddenly I was sat on the bed with him in front of me. "Anastasia, breathe." I pulled in a breath, wheezing. My lungs wouldn't open, and I couldn't stop shaking. God, it had almost happened again. What was wrong with me? Why did I stop dancing? Why didn't I scream? I'd swore if he touched me again to scream, to hit him. Why hadn't I done it? Why, why, why? Will gripped me, running his hands up and down my arms. "You need to breathe. Talk to me."

My voice trembled. "He-he was there. I didn't, I didn't do anything."

"You couldn't." His voice was calm. "Your mother explained it quite thoroughly to the stewardess she sent to fetch me. He was forcing himself on you again. It wasn't your fault."

"I told him I didn't want to, I didn't want him to whirl me around." I drew in another breath, and another. "But he just kept going. And he wouldn't listen. I didn't want to dance, I didn't, I swear." I gulped down air, crossing my arms over my chest and bending across my lap. I didn't know why, something to make me feel secure. I felt the bed settle down beside me.

"Shh," Will had sat down, running his hand up and down my back. "He's a bastard is what he is."

I burst out laughing, rather hysterically. "Will, really?" It was just so absurd to hear him curse like that. I tried to sit up, a slight twinge in my back making it difficult to move quickly.

"It broke you out of it." He gave me a crooked smile. "Now, let me take a look at your ankle." He knelt down, gently unbuttoning my shoe and he suddenly stopped. His hand had moved up my leg slightly before he stilled. I had shivered at his touch, the fluttering in my heart not having a thing to do with my now slowing breath. He glanced up at me and quickly looked away. "Could you, um, roll down your stocking?"

I blushed, leaning over to roll it down. I hadn't thought of that, and he would have had to reach far up under my skirt to find the garter. "There. Sorry."

"Ah, well. It doesn't look too bad." He set his whole attention to my ankle. It was slightly red, but not bloody. "No swelling, and it doesn't feel broken." He pressed his fingers hard against it and I winced. "You should be alright by tomorrow."

I let my skirt back down, smoothing it. "Tomorrow then? Morning, outside the bridge?"

"I was thinking breakfast, if you'd like. I could come here and escort you."

I smiled at him, looking into those clear blue eyes. "I would."

"Then I bid you a good night, Anastasia." He tipped his cap, then stepped away. The door shut softly behind him, and I made my way, slowly, over to the private bath, and turned the hot water on. It took time to fill, but it also took a good deal of time for me to unbutton my dress and remove the rest of my clothing. I settled down into the hot water, reached for a bar of lavender milled soap, and set myself to scrubbing. And scrubbing.

I still felt dirty when I crawled into bed.