A/N: With this chapter we finally wrap up Saturday on the Titanic. Which means, if you're keeping track, we're almost getting to the point where you should start to be worried...but not quite yet. ANYHOO, I'm not sure what to say about this except that it's fluffy and Jim made me cry. Because he's...you know...Jim. It bears mentioning that the next chapter might be a bit late in coming, since my show opens this week and I will basically cease to have a life as of...like...tomorrow morning. Which is alarming considering how little a life I already have. Ah well, them's the breaks. Enjoy!

Oh yes, and as always thanks must be paid to my lovlies LC, Vee, Cookies and Squishy for being the most consistantly wonderful people ever :D

Kate and Jim finally seemed to have run out of things to yell at each other. In fact, Kate was fairly certain that she’d run out of things to say, period. Shoving her hands into her pockets, Kate rocked back on her heels and looked up at the sky. It was a very clear night, and Kate thought that given enough time she could almost count the stars. Jim, obviously at as much a loss for words as Kate was, gave a light cough, drawing her attention back down to earth. He tugged the brim of his hat, gave Kate a quick, curious look and headed off towards the stern of the ship. When Jim realised that she wasn’t following him, he turned back and quirked one eyebrow. Kate shook her head, bemused, and trotted to catch up.

In a silence that somehow managed to be simultaneously comfortable and awkward, the pair made their way to the furthest end of the Poop Deck so that they were standing at the very stern of the ship. Jim propped his elbows on the railing and clasped his hands lightly in front of him, staring out into the night. Kate took up a similar pose on Jim’s left. For a long time nothing was said; they didn’t even look at each other. Kate watched the Titanic churning the sea in its wake, the wind blowing her hair around her face.

Pushing the loose curls back with one forearm, Kate leaned out over the rails and peered down into the ocean, trying to imagine the enormous propellers that were pushing them through the water. Jim tugged gently on her sleeve, “Mind ye don’t fall overboard then. I don’t much fancy havin’ te rescue ye.”

Kate made a face but obediently pulled back. Because Jim had broken the silence first, Kate felt it safe to talk again. She scooted closer to Jim so that their shoulders were almost touching and rested her chin on one fist, “So Jim Farrell,” she said, “Ye never told us what you’d want te be.”

Jim shifted to face her, “What’re ye on about now then?” He asked with a puzzled half-smile. He looked wary, as though afraid that she was about to launch into another tirade.

“When we get te America,” Kate explained, tucking her hair over one shoulder to keep it out of her eyes, “What is it ye want te be?”

“Christ Kate, I dunno,” Jim exclaimed, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably, “I told ye, I don’t think like that.”

Kate pouted, “Not fair, I told ye mine.”

“Aye, me an’ the whole third class,” Jim replied with a laugh. He leaned back against the railings, “Lady’s maid, right?”

“That’s right,” Kate said, prodding him in the chest, “An’ ye might think it’s not a good fit fer me, but that’s just ‘cause ye’ve never seen me work. Mark my words, I’ll be the best damn maid on the continent, people’ll be fightin’ te have me.”

Jim smirked, “Kate, I’m learnin’ fast not te doubt much o’ anythin’ you say.”

Kate beamed at him, then forced her expression back into something more serious, “C’mon now, ye must’ve thought o’ somethin’,” She wheedled, hands on hips, “What would ye be? An’ don’t say a fisherman, that’s cheatin’.”

“As I said, I’ve not really given it much thought,” Jim replied, scratching under the brim of his cap. He seemed to realise that Kate wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily, and so spent a moment contemplating the question. “Ye figure I could be anythin’ I want, aye?” Kate grinned and nodded, “All right then, an actor.”

Kate blinked, “What?”

“Ye heard me,” Jim said seriously, his solemn front betrayed by the persistent upward twitch of one corner of his mouth, “I’d be an actor. You know, in one o’ them new movin’ pictures like they got in the big cities now. Or maybe a poet,” He continued, grinning roguishly, all pretence abandoned, “Like that Yeats fella, aye?”

“Oh well now yer just makin’ fun o’ me.” Kate said, a mock wounded look on her face.

Jim smiled and shook his head, “Nah, I’m not. Not really.” He resumed his original position at the railings and tilted his head up to watch the star-dotted sky, “Maybe I’d build things,” he said, in a much different voice than he’d used previously.

Kate came up beside him, “Aye?” She said, glancing at him sideways. There was truth in this statement, unlike the first two grand proclamations, “What sort o’ things?”

“All sorts,” Jim replied immediately, not taking his eyes off of the sky, “Anythin’ ye could imagine. I’d start small though mind, little things as people need.” He flicked his gaze down to Kate for an instant, then looked away again, “I made me younger sister a table te do her lessons on once. It was a nice enough thing.”

The tiny note of pride in his voice made Kate’s chest ache. She swallowed hard and looked up at him, trying to keep the extent of her emotions off of her face, “That so?”

“Aye,” Jim nodded. He looked at her again, as though he was deciding whether or not to tell whatever it was that was on his mind. “Ye know…I almost got into carpentry, when I was younger. I started workin’ at the docks when I was eleven, see? Doin’ small things, not on the boats yet. Me Da got me the job.”

“He’s a fisherman too, aye?” Kate asked, recalling that Jim had said something to that effect once before.

Jim nodded, “Was,” he corrected her, “He went down with his boat one summer when I was ‘bout sixteen. That was the same summer I almost got te learn the buildin’ trade. See, from all the helpin’ ‘round the docks I’d got good with tools, fixin’ things that was broke an’ all that. Anyway, this big-shot carpenter from London, he started hangin’ ‘round the pier, lookin’ fer boys he could hire te work cheap at his shop.”

Kate bobbed her head in understanding, “An’ he wanted you te work fer him?”

“More then that even, he wanted me te be his apprentice, said I had real talent,” Again here the quiet gut-wrenching pride, “But the thing was he couldn’t pay me, just give me room and board ‘til I was trained enough te make me own way. And we could’ve managed all right, except that…”

“Yer father died.” Kate finished quietly, “And ye couldn’t afford te go.”

“Aye,” Jim said. He paused a moment as though remembering, “I never even told me Mam that there’d been the chance; she was grievin’ enough as it was. Fer a while I wondered what might’ve happened if things had been different, hopin’ that maybe it could still happen, but eventually I just…stopped. There wasn’t any point ye see.” He smiled down at Kate, his expression wistful, “But Kate, I tell ye, I could’ve been somethin’.”

Kate wanted to cry, or throw her arms around him or both. This explained almost everything, everything about what it was that made them so different; for all that she’d had it rough, Kate knew she’d never been disappointed that way. She stared at her hands, blinking hard, “I’m sorry Jim.”

Jim shrugged, looking slightly embarrassed, “Never mind,” he said, clearing his throat, “But now ye know.” He gave an uncomfortable-sounding laugh, “’Sides, if I’m te believe you, I might still be able te try some day. Buildin’ I mean.”

“Of course ye can,” Kate said immediately, laying a hand on his forearm, “Jim there’s no reason at all why ye couldn’t.”

Jim made a disbelieving sort of noise somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, “Kate ye’d say the same thing if I told ye I wanted te sprout wings and fly te America.”

Kate accepted the teasing with a wry smile and elbowed him gently in the ribs, “Ah hah, very funny.”

They lapsed into silence again, each lost in their own thoughts. The only sound was the noise of the waves and the light, hollow sound of the breeze that lifted Kate’s hair from her shoulders and sent it fluttering gently around her face. Kate watched the stars that were spilled across the sky behind the ship, bright, unwavering and infinitely comforting in their familiarity. It was once again Jim who broke the silence.

“I’ve never told anyone that ye know,” He said, so quietly that Kate almost missed it.

Kate looked at him in surprise, “Well then,” she said with a small smile, “It’s about time isn’t it?” Jim gave a soft chuckle and shook his head. Kate nudged him with her elbow again, “No really, what were ye waitin’ fer?” she teased, trying to mask how touched she was by his admission.

Jim shrugged, “Someone who’d understand maybe,” He replied, “Someone like you.”

Caught off guard by this statement, Kate stared at Jim with her mouth hanging open for a space of about three seconds before regaining control of her motor functions and dropping her gaze to her hands. Kate inspected her nails for a moment and then, without really making a conscious decision to do so, reached out across the railing and linked her fingers through his. Jim gave her a startled a look that Kate, staring fixedly at the area directly in front of her nose, caught out of the corner of her eye. Just as Kate was sure that he was going to pull away, his hand tightened around hers and he returned to his inspection of the darkness beyond the stern, leaving their hands linked across the top of the rails.

It was incredible, Kate thought, how comfortable she felt. Despite how short a period of time she’d known Jim, despite the fact that they seemed to have spent more time causing each other grief than not Kate couldn’t think of a single place she’d rather have been at that moment then standing there on the deck of the Titanic with Jim’s fingers laced through her own. It felt right somehow, it felt like that was where she belonged. And though the thought was silly and sentimental and maybe even a little bit scary, Kate couldn’t shake it. She wanted stay that way, in that crystal-clear, perfect bubble of a moment, for as long as she could.

After not nearly enough time, however, Jim shifted position pointedly, breaking Kate out of her musings. He gently, and with apparent reluctance released her hand, cool air taking the place of warm skin against her palm. “It’s gotta be gettin’ awful late Kate,” He said, slanting a glance at her that was almost bashful, “Ye ought te get te bed.”

“’S’all right, I’ll stay here.” Kate replied lightly, shrugging one shoulder.

Jim gave a short laugh and threw her a mildly exasperated look, “Well I was plannin’ te turn in m’self,” he said raising one eyebrow, “But if ye want te stay up here alone, God knows I can’t stop ye.”

Kate felt her cheeks grow warm. She tucked a stray curl behind one ear – a fairly futile gesture considering how much of her hair had come loose – and attempted to appear nonchalant, “Oh. Well. That’s another story then.”

“Hmmmm,” Jim said by way of reply, a knowing smile flickering across his features. He nodded towards the stairs, “C’mon then, I’ll walk ye to yer cabin.”

“Jim, my cabin’s practically on the way te yer cabin,” Kate reminded him playfully, “Ye can hardly help but walk me.”

Jim made a face, “Well ye could appreciate the gesture at least,” Kate laughed and Jim held out one arm, “Are ye comin’ or not?”

Looking at the offered limb with some surprise, Kate hesitated for a split second then said, “Aye, I’m comin’,” and looped her arm through his. “Ye get caught in the women’s section of the boat an’ there’ll be scandal though,” she added with a sly grin.

Rolling his eyes Jim said, “I’ll risk it.”

They made their way, arm in arm, back down to the Well Deck, then past the General Room and Smoke Room to the main staircase, chatting about pleasant nothings. Kate told him about her home in Ireland and how her father had built her a tiny loft bedroom above the kitchen when she’d turned thirteen to save her the indignity of sharing a bed with her brothers, and Jim told her about his sisters and how the second youngest Lily was the smartest person he knew, and how the middle-girl Annie was hopelessly shy and how Elizabeth and Josephine and Clara would have taken Kate on as a new best friend. It wasn’t heated, meaningful talk like they usually seemed to gravitate to, but it was nice, Kate thought, it was nice.

Kate tried very hard not to read anything into it, ignoring with great difficulty the warmth of Jim’s body, the secure feeling of his arm linked through hers and the renewed conviction that somehow, with him, she seemed to fit. She told herself that Jim would have behaved this way with any woman, because he was a gentleman and that’s what gentlemen did. Even though a stubborn, hopeful inner voice persisted in telling her otherwise, none of Jim’s behaviour had anything to do with the fact that it was her he was with. That really was too much to hope for.

They seemed to arrive at Kate’s cabin door in a woefully short amount of time. She wished she was roomed further astern, or down a few more levels, just so the walk might be prolonged a bit more. Still, Kate kept her face neutral, as though she wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed about how quickly they had reached her room.

“Well Jim Farrell,” Kate said cheerfully, reclaiming her arm with carefully concealed reluctance, “I don’t know if I can thank ye fer a pleasant evenin’, but I s’pose I can thank ye fer an interestin’ one.”

“That’s fer sure an’ certain,” Jim replied in a dry voice. He looked at her thoughtfully then added, “Though I think I could probably thank ye fer more besides.”

Kate blinked, not sure what to make of the comment, and inclined her head quizzically. Jim smiled, not exactly at her but more to himself, Kate thought. Then, quite unexpectedly, he reached out and brushed a few loose strands of hair out of her eyes, tucking them carefully behind her ear. His fingers lingered against her cheek for just a fraction longer than necessary before he seemed to remember himself and pulled his hand back. Kate stared at him, completely speechless.

For an instant, Jim seemed on the verge of saying something important, but instead he just shook his head, “Well…g’night Katie.”

He had never called her that before and Kate, still off-balance from the memory of his touch, was powerless to stop the smile that spread across her face at the sound of the pet name. It sounded so easy on his lips, as though there was nothing out of the ordinary in him calling her that.

She’d evidently taken too long to respond because Jim gave her a quick farewell nod said, “See ye tomorrow,” and turned to walk off towards the men’s dormitories.

Snapping out of her momentary stupor, Kate called, “Jim!” He turned back to her, eyebrows raised in question, “I…” Kate searched for the right words, but couldn’t find them, could not even settle on what it was she wanted to say, “Never mind. G’night then.”

Jim smiled at her, walking backwards a few paces to keep her in sight. Finally he turned and ambled away. Kate watched him go, feeling oddly disconcerted. Then, with a sigh and a bemused shake of her head, she let herself into the darkened room and shut the door behind her.