A/N - So, when I first started this story, it was written entirely from Kate's POV. It didn't take long for me to realise that something wasn't quite working. At about this same point Jim sat up and demanded to have his own say in things, so I decided to give it a go. Jim, I quickly discovered, is extremely fun to write, and has such a different voice then Kate that it's just great. I love him and I hope all you people do to.

More thanks must go out to LC for being an awesome reviewer. Thanks girl!

Disclaimer - No one here is mine except some miscellanious family members who get a passing mention in this chapter.

Jim Farrell had always prided himself on having a realistic view of life. He wasn’t the sort to waste time on daydreams or wild flights of fancy or anything else that was not firmly rooted in what was true about the world. Oh there had been the inevitable boyish imaginings back when he was just a small lad, but life had done a good job of breaking him of such foolish habits. Jim took life as it was, whether he liked it or not. What was the point of doing otherwise?

Even his ticket on the Titanic had been purchased for no other reason than sheer necessity. Jim didn’t harbour delusions of some bright and shining new world or the glorious new life that he was constantly hearing folks go on about. There was no new life waiting for Jim in America – there was just another version of the one he was living now. The fact was, Jim wouldn’t have even been there if the damn fishing boat he’d been working on the past five years hadn’t gone and gotten herself capsized. That had put Jim good and solidly out of work and, being that he was the only son in his family of six (not including his mother and the steadily growing number of grandchildren care of Clara, his older sister) that simply wouldn’t do. Jim’s mother had quickly taken it into her head that he ought to go to America, because Clara’s husband had a cousin who’d gone to America and he’d found good work straight away. And there was certainly no good work to be had in Dublin.

So, Jim had saved his money and paid his fare without complaint and without question because that was the sensible thing to do. Things were the way they were and Jim saw no point in fighting that fact.

As the Ireland pulled free of her moorings and headed out into the bay, Jim stayed well clear of the crowd that surged towards the railings to bid farewell to their homeland. He wondered bemusedly if all of those people had family standing on the docks, or if the vast majority of them were just bellowing for the sake of it. Shaking his head, Jim turned his back on the waving masses, and made his way to the forward deck of the little tender ship.

Jim would have traveled to America on pretty much anything that floated and not cared one way or the other so the fact that he’d ended up on the newest, fastest, and by all accounts, grandest ship in the world seemed a bit ironic. He had to admit to a touch of curiosity where the Titanic was concerned, however. It was hard to ignore all the talk, and Jim, for all that he would have claimed otherwise, still had enough boyish wonder about him to be suitably intrigued.

In another five minutes they would pull up even with the Titanic. The great ship loomed before the diminutive Ireland like an enormous slumbering animal. By all appearances she lived up to her reputation and even Jim could not suppress a touch of awe at the sheer size and majesty of the liner. He dropped his bag at his feet and gave a low whistle of appreciation.

The noise apparently startled the woman standing to his right because she jumped and clapped a hand over her heart, “Bloody…” She began, then cut herself off in surprise, “Well what d’ye know? Hello again.”

It was Jim’s turn to be surprised. Turning he found himself face to face with the red-head from the health inspection, the one with the impish grin. That expression was currently absent from her face and instead she looked rather bemused. Jim gave a small laugh, “Ye managed te get through the rest o’ yer exam without attackin’ yer poor doctor again I’ll take it?”

And there was the smile, the one that made her look as though she was thinking of something terribly amusing but would never actually say it out loud, “Oh aye,” She replied with a nod, “Though I expect he was glad te see the back o’ me.” She paused here and slanted a look at Jim out of the corner of her eye, “So, ye don’t want te wave goodbye te the Motherland then?”

“Ah no,” Jim replied with a wry twist of his mouth, “Last I checked the Motherland can’t wave back, so I didn’t much see the point.”

The woman made a noise of agreement, “Yer right there.” She turned her gaze back to the Titanic. They were close enough now that it seemed possible to reach out and brush the sleek black sides of the ship, though Jim knew that attempting to do so would result in nothing more than a plunge over board. “She’s a beauty, i’n’t she?”

Jim nodded in spite of himself, “Aye, that she is. Not that I have much te compare her to, mind.”

“No, me neither, but ye can tell jus’ the same.” The red-head replied matter-of-factly, and Jim supposed that was true enough. Tilting her head up to take in the full height of the ship, she added; “They call her the Ship of Dreams y’know.”

As a matter of fact, Jim did know – he’d read it in the papers back when the Titanic had first been completed and was still resting in the Belfast shipyard. Jim thought the title was the most ridiculous, saccharine thing he’d ever heard, nothing more than a gimmick to get people to buy tickets and he told the woman so, “Other than the fact that she’s shiny an’ new, there’s nothin’ more special ‘bout this ship than the next.”

If Jim had been expecting her to agree with him, he would have been disappointed. As it was, she didn’t exactly disagree either, just gave him a curious sideways look that made Jim feel uncomfortably as though she saw through every inch of his cynical façade. The corner of her mouth twitched into an oddly knowing half-smile, “If ye say so.” She replied evenly.

Sensing that it would be wise not to belabour the point, Jim changed the topic, “Who’re ye travellin’ with then?” He highly suspected that the answer was ‘no body’ but it seemed only polite to ask.

Confirming his hunch, she replied, “Just me an’ my own self. You?”

“No one,” Jim said. He gestured over his shoulder to where most of their fellow passengers were still either waving like mad things or else staring wistfully at the steadily retreating shoreline, “An’ none o’ yer family came te see ye off?” Jim couldn’t imagine leaving one of his own sisters all by themselves to weather the chaos of the docks and boarding procedures.

The young woman shook her head, “Said g’bye te all o’ them yesterday mornin’. It’s easier that way. It’d be a waste o’ time and money fer all o’ them te parade down here just so I could blow ‘em kisses from the boat.” She shrugged, “Besides, I do just fine on me own.” Jim detected just hint of forced bravado in this last statement, and she was further betrayed by a notable tightness in muscles of her jaw.

Something about that small trace of vulnerability endeared her to him. The fact that she was still standing there steadfastly refusing to start weeping or carrying on when clearly she’d just left behind everything and everyone she loved was highly commendable to someone like Jim. He himself had managed to pry himself away from five openly bawling sisters without getting so much as misty eyed. It wasn’t that he wasn’t going to miss them – because he would, terribly so – but it would not have done them, or him, any good to give in to the lump that had been in his throat the whole time he was saying goodbye, nor would it have changed the fact that he had to leave.

For a moment, the pair watched in silence as the Ireland drew up alongside the Titanic, getting into position for the gangways to be lowered. Next to the monolithic ocean liner, the Ireland must have looked like a rowboat to people watching from shore. Jim watched crewmen amassing to help with the transferral of passengers and goods and wondered how much longer it would be before they were allowed to finally board. The sudden realisation that, within the next hour, he would actually be onboard the finest ship in the world and on his way to America caused an unexpected lurch in the pit of Jim’s stomach. He mentally chastised himself for getting worked up, but still couldn’t help but feel a touch anxious.

There was a light tap on Jim’s shoulder and he turned to find the red-headed woman staring at him in a mixture of concern and amusement, “Ye all right there?” She asked, raising one eyebrow, “Yer lookin’ a touch peaky.”

“I’m fine,” Jim replied curtly, feeling as though he’d been caught doing something foolish.

The other eyebrow curving to match the first, she said, “All right then.” And let the matter drop. Picking up her small suitcase the young woman nodded towards where the Ireland’s crew was fussing with the gates and added, “Looks like we could start gettin’ ready te board.”

Jim looked to where she had indicated and nodded his agreement, “Looks like.” He shouldered his own bag then added, somewhat hesitantly, “D’ye need any help then? That is… findin’ yer cabin an’ all?”

She grinned at him and shook her head, “Ah no, not me. I’ll be fine.” She assured him, “There’s a couple o’ girls I met earlier, alone like me; think we’re all gonna look out fer each other. In fact, they’re prob’ly wonderin’ where I’ve got te.”

“Yer sure?” Jim asked. The fact that she was by herself and the fact that she was the first passenger he’d spoken to made Jim feel oddly responsible for the girl.

“Oh aye,” She said, still grinning. “But thank ye very much fer the offer.” Despite the ear-to-ear smile, Jim could tell that she meant that sincerely. “And I’m sure I’ll be seein’ plenty of ye later.”

Indeed. Jim had no doubt whatsoever that they’d be spending more time in each other’s company – after all, the ship was grand but steerage was steerage. There were only so many places a lowly third cabin passenger could sequester themselves. That and Jim had the sneaking suspicion that this young woman wasn’t the type to go about unnoticed. Jim watched her trot away, suitcase swinging merrily at her side. It wasn’t until she’d disappeared into the crowd, that Jim realised he’d forgotten to ask her name.

Nonplussed, Jim shook his head and huffed a small laugh wondering how he’d failed to get such a simple detail. He was forced to grudgingly admit that the excitement of boarding day must have gone to his head. This fact was disconcerting to Jim and he scowled at the Titanic’s black hull.

Jim reminded himself firmly that there was nothing to be excited about. Sure it was a big new ship, but seven days and that big new ship would be sailing away back to Britain and Jim would be once again trying to find work in one godforsaken slum or another. Ireland or America, it made no difference – that was a poor man’s life. So what was so rutting exciting?

“Ship o’ bloody dreams my arse.” Jim said as though saying it out loud might reaffirm his opinion on the matter.

Nobody aboard the Ireland seemed to share Jim’s grim outlook; the passengers chattered amongst themselves in voices bright with hopeful anticipation. Pushing past Jim on their way to the gangway, they raised flushed faces to the April sky and gasped in wonder at the Titanic, pointing and exclaiming and exalting in the sheer glory of her existence. Jim sighed, adjusted the bag slung over his shoulder and joined the flow of traffic. People would cling to whatever scrap of hope got them through the day, Jim supposed, but he knew that that kind of dreaming just let you down.

Even so… Jim paused for a moment and lifted his gaze to the Titanic’s gleaming white superstructure, shielding his eyes against the glare of the sun. After a second or two he looked away and went to take his spot in the line. She was a very grand ship. The ship of dreams, perhaps not, but very grand.

Jim didn’t see the harm of conceding on that particular point.