There are so many brilliant movies out there that just inspire fan fiction and send plot bunnies into a frenzy. The challenge for this venture is to take a blockbuster movie and turn it into a Sparky fan fiction, using the plot as inspiration and adding our own twists and turns.
Authors Note (Hannah554): I love Titanic and I couldn't help but take my chance to sparkify it. I've added my own twists to the story but I've also kept some things the same, I hope you enjoy it!
People rushed by in a blur as he ran through the crowd, dodging and weaving his way passed all the people and shouting back hasty apologies to the people he bumped into. John couldn't remember the port ever being so busy; everyone had turned up whether to wave off their family or just to see the great ship. There was so much excitement in the air as this was a much anticipated maiden voyage - the ship represented promise in more ways that one. It stood in front of them, sitting proudly in the water and dominating everything. The word 'Titanic' there for all to see.
"Hurry up Ronon," he shouted to his friend who was running just behind him - he'd slowed down to apologise to the young man he'd almost knocked down - if they had any hope of being on that ship they had to be faster. He could see the docking ramp ahead of him, the wooden walkway stretching across the water to the lower levels of the ship. John adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder, hoisting it up higher so he could run faster. He almost flew up the walkway just as the crewman was about to close the door. He shouted to him, getting his attention just before the steel doorway closed.
"Do you have a ticket?" the crewman asked quickly, and John showed him both his and Ronon's tickets as the big man came running up the ramp behind him. The crewman nodded, gesturing for them to hurry onboard. John didn't have to be told twice. They didn't bother going to find their rooms, instead they went up to the boat deck, shimmying through the people to get to the railings and wave goodbye to England, to the life they were leaving behind there - they were going home.
The horn of the ship sounded, a deep and almost deafening sound signalling the departure of the ship. It started moving, slowly at first, the ship's engines having to drag the considerable weight of the ship. The noise both on the deck and in the docks below increased, people shouting and cheering. Within minutes Southampton port was behind them, in front of them was a vast ocean and across that was the new life that awaited them.
"We should find our rooms," Ronon said as he watched the land behind them moving away. John nodded his head and turned around once again having to manoeuvre himself through the crowd to get to the door. It didn't take them long to get lost, they wondered up and down identical looking corridors, the numbers on the doors didn't help to guide them, every corridor seemed to make the numbers jump from one place to another. John was sure there should have been some logical order to this.
"Excuse me," he asked the young woman that was walking by them; he'd had enough of this aimless wondering, there were better things to do on this amazing ships that look for his room. "We're kinda lost."
The woman gave them a friendly smile, tucking her light brown hair behind her ear. "That's okay, it took me a while to find my room as well, there seems to be no logic to the corridors."
"That's exactly what I was thinking," he told her, reaching into his pocket for his ticket so he could double check his room number. She took the paper from him and read the number herself, smiling once again.
"This is on the same corridor as my room. Come on, I will show you," she said, and John gave her a grateful nod following her as she headed back the way she had been coming. She started reading the door numbers to herself until she came to theirs. "Twenty seven," she read and the gestured to the door. "Here we are."
"Thanks, I could have spent hours trying to find my way around down here," John replied taking his ticket back.
"That's alright. I'm Teyla, Teyla Emmagan," she introduced herself holding her hand out to him.
"John Sheppard, the silent one is Ronon Dex," he told her taking her offered hand. She made the gesture to Ronon as well and with a moments hesitation he accepted it; he wasn't the easiest guy to get to know but he wasn't impolite either, especially to someone who had just helped them out.
"My room is twenty three," she told them gesturing down the corridor. "Down that way. Feel free to knock if you need anything. I'm sure I'll see you around."
Teyla left then, probably going to wherever she had been heading when she'd run into them. John opened the door and walked into the room that would be their home for the next few days. It was like any other room he'd been in; third class was always the same. Small, cramped, plain, uncomfortable beds with cheap, thin sheets and a rat cowering away in the corner.
"We have a room mate," John stated as he looked at the rat. Ronon scowled at the vermin stamping his foot near it so it ran off.
"I hate rats," he stated gruffly, opening the door so the rat could exit, glaring at it as he left.
"Well it probably hates you now too," John replied dropping his bag on the bottom bunk of the bed. Ronon swung his onto the top bed, the bag half flying through the air before landing on the bed with a thud. John rolled his eyes, "Do you always have to show off?"
Elizabeth thanked the young steward for his help in bringing her things to her room, declining the maid's offer of helping her unpack. She waited for them to leave before she did the job herself. She preferred to do things herself despite the insistence of certain people that many of the tasks were below her. Her room was beautiful, she couldn't deny that, the decoration and detail in everything was amazing and the lamps that were placed strategically around cast a warm glow over the entire room. It still felt like a prison to her; the Titanic was an amazing vessel but she couldn't see it as anything more than a prison ship transporting her to an entire life of imprisonment.
She opened the first suitcase taking out the dresses and hanging them in the giant wardrobe near her bed. They were fine dresses, all of them designed to make whoever wore them look more beautiful, more elegant. The few suits she had were next, they were travel clothes more than anything else but she couldn't very well leave them in the hotel, as much as some of the horrible garments asked for it.
She was just about to move onto the second case when there was a light knock at the door, the person responsible for it not bothering to wait for her to respond before coming in. The woman that entered managed a half sincere smile, gliding into the room in one of those elegant dresses that made it seem like she was floating around rather than walking. She closed the door behind her, frowning at Elizabeth when she saw her unpacking her own things.
"There is a reason people are employed to do these tasks for us Elizabeth," the woman chastised gently but there was an undertone of exasperation in her voice. This wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation and she doubted it would be the last.
"I prefer to do it myself Mother, if people did everything for me then I'd spend my entire life sitting around doing nothing, it would be incredibly boring," Elizabeth replied, brushing her hair away from her face.
Her mother sighed. Melinda Weir was a proud woman, too proud sometimes but she had become too accustomed to this life. "Elizabeth, sit down," she instructed and after a moment Elizabeth did as she was told perching herself on the edge of the huge bed whilst her mother did the same beside her. "I know things have been difficult recently, losing your father has made life hard for us but that will change after we reach America, after the wedding."
She was really beginning to hate the constant reminders, "I know Mother."
"Simon is a fine man; he will make a good husband for you," her mother continued. "Not to mention secure both our futures."
"I know," Elizabeth repeated.
"Good," Melinda said, standing back up and reaching a hand out to her daughter. Elizabeth took it, standing up beside her mother who smiled more genuinely. "Now, allow the maids to do their job, I feel like taking a walk out on the deck, let's see what this fine ship has to offer us."
She knew arguing would do her no good, it never did, so instead she nodded her head and followed her mother out of the room. She gave the two maids - that her mother sent to unpack her things - a small, grateful smile as they passed her.
The music from the band filled the room. They weren't provided with any sort of entertainment down in third class so they had made their own. Several of the passengers were struggling musicians, making their money playing on street corners and hoping for the best. Some of them had joined together to make their very own third class band, a job they seemed to be thoroughly enjoying. The rest of the passengers were either dancing or drinking, in some cases both at the same time and those were the ones making a mess of the room. The noise from people talking and laughing almost rivalled the music from the band. Third class might not have much but they knew how to throw a party.
John drank the last of his beer putting the glass down on the table before holding his hand out to Teyla; he'd had enough of sitting still. "Dance with me," he requested and Teyla smiled accepting the offered hand and standing up with him. The music was upbeat, fast and loud and as such the drunks that were attempting to dance were bumping into everyone, including them, so they called it quits after a while and returned to the table where Ronon was trying to out drink a fellow passenger. Teyla sat next to him, grinning as both men put their empty glasses down and another passenger provided them with two more.
Ronon's competition looked a little nauseous, even sat down he was swaying a little from side to side while Ronon just grinned and reached for the next glass. John knew his friend well enough to know that he was completely drunk, but it would be a few more glasses before he'd be out of the contest; the other guy wasn't going to hold out so long. They both managed to empty their glasses and were once again provided with another, but before either man could take them Ronon's competition leaned over to the side of the table and vomited.
Teyla screwed up her face in disgust looking slightly nauseous herself now as she chose to look at Ronon's arm instead of the man still spewing his guts up on the floor. Ronon was declared the winner. The big guy stood up, throwing his arms in the air and cheering for himself. John clapped half heartedly, he'd seen this before, there weren't many people that could out drink Ronon. After several claps on the back Ronon was given one of the two drinks that had been brought for the competition as a celebratory drink and he downed it faster than he ought to have.
Teyla appeared next to John with two drinks handing one over to him. He hadn't even seen her leave the group. She smiled at Ronon who was swaying a little on his feet as he high fived someone - despite how much alcohol he must have had he was still handling himself pretty well.
"I think this is the most lively I have seen him all day," she stated, and John nodded his head.
"He's the brooding type," John shrugged. "He's better once you get to know him and if you get a load of alcohol into him well... I think you can see for yourself."
"I can," Teyla agreed laughing as Ronon attempted to high five another man, one more drunk than him and the two missed each other almost falling over. "Come on, I want to dance," she told him putting her drink down. "I was considering asking Ronon but now I think that might be a bad idea."
"Probably," John replied downing the rest of his drink before following after Teyla. There were times when he wished he could be someone else, someone with the money to do what he wanted, to sleep in a room that didn't have a rat scurrying around on the floor looking for any signs of dropped food. Then there were times like this when he remembered the good side to being third class; there was no pretence down here, nobody pretending to be something they weren't and damn it, they knew how to have a good time.
The band was playing in the corner, some quiet melody that fit perfectly with the richly decorated room. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling casting light over the reds, beiges and browns the dinning room had been decorated with. The light bounced off the shiny silver cutlery, spots of it dancing across the walls as they were moved. Voices could be heard chattering away in calm, quiet tones, the occasional laugh at someone's joke or story, usually at someone else's expense. Elizabeth feigned a smile as her mother told some story that everyone else seemed to find funny but she was simply bored of.
"Does this chicken have lemon in it? I'm very allergic to lemon, it could seriously kill me," the man sat to her right said. The waiter assured him that there was no lemon in the chicken before walking away and Elizabeth was sure she heard an exasperated sigh coming from him as he passed her chair. Beside her the man continued to stare warily at the chicken. "I'm sure I can smell lemon."
"You always think you can smell lemon Rodney," Elizabeth pointed out, "It's rarely actually there."
"That's not true, a few months ago there was lemon on the chicken I ordered at the restaurant despite their insistence there wasn't. If I hadn't made such a fuss about it I could have died that day," Rodney reminded her. He exaggerated that story more and more every time he told it, she was sure it was going to become a story about an epic battle one day.
"How's your work coming?" she asked him, cutting him off before he could start to retell his tale once again. "You were working on something, you were excited about it."
"Ah yes, the new engine design," Rodney stated making Elizabeth sigh. She knew he was going to start an explanation of his work and the genius behind it, but it was better than listening to the restaurant story again. "Well, it's coming along very well, there are a few adjustments to be made before we're able to construct and test a prototype but I have a lot of confidence in the basic design."
"That's fascinating Rodney, really," a blonde sitting opposite him at the table said sarcastically, "but I don't think Elizabeth is actually interested in the specifics of it."
"I doubt she would have asked about it if she weren't interested and besides Laura, I don't remember you being invited into this conversation," Rodney pointed out as he decided his dinner was safe to eat and shoved a fork full of chicken into his mouth.
"I'm sitting at the table Rodney, that invites me into any conversation being held at it," Laura replied as though she was talking to an idiot and not a genius. Beside Laura her husband turned his attention from the conversation he'd been having with someone else to intercede in the latest fight between Rodney and Laura, preferably before it could turn into a fight - these two were exceptional at creating a scene that many of the people here would find unbecoming of first class passengers.
"Laura love," Carson began cutting of Rodney's retort, whatever it had been. "Why don't you tell them what we discovered about the lifeboats today?" he suggested and Laura looked at him for a moment before nodding in realisation.
"Oh yeah, that. There aren't enough life boats for everyone on board, probably only half," she told them, her argument with Rodney already forgotten.
"That concerns you?" a man sitting a little further down the table questioned. Jeremiah usually kept himself to himself but when he did speak he sounded like one of the most pompous people she had ever met. He was on the Titanic with both his wife and his mistress. The wife, Teresa, was completely unaware of the affair her husband was having. Maria was a family friend, someone Teresa had known since childhood and that was probably where Teresa thought her involvement with the family ended. The two women were sat next to each other at the table enjoying a friendly conversation. "This ship has been built to withstand whatever might be thrown at it out here, it is almost unsinkable. The life boats are on board simply because it is regulation; they are nothing more than clutter on the deck."
"Almost being exactly the point," Laura replied.
Jeremiah rolled his eyes. "I have no patience for you people with a doom and gloom view of the world."
"And I have no patience for..." Laura's comment was cut short by Carson's hand over her mouth for which Elizabeth was relieved, she was sure that most of the people at the table wouldn't appreciate Laura's more colourful personality.
"Elizabeth, you haven't touched your food," the man on her left pointed out and she turned to him with a smile that she hoped didn't look as forced as it felt. Simon looked from her plate to her; it wasn't so much concern on his face as mere questioning.
"I just don't have much of an appetite today, I haven't quite got my sea legs yet," she told him knowing he'd buy the sea sickness excuse. Her mother had spent the first hour of their time on the ship looking pale and nauseous; it wasn't a stretch to say that Elizabeth would have it as well.
"I'm sure you'll feel better after a good night's sleep." he stated taking her hand in his and running his thumb over the engagement ring he'd placed there a month ago. He studied it proudly; the diamond was big enough to stand out but not so big that it got in her way, unlike the one Jeremiah's wife was wearing which even after wearing it for seven years she still knocked about.
John almost lost his footing when Ronon lost his, most of the man's weight coming down on him and if it hadn't been for Teyla on the other side of the big guy he might have actually fallen. Between the two of them they were dragging his drunken ass down the corridor toward their room. Ronon was mumbling something to himself but John couldn't even have guessed at what it was. It hadn't taken long after the drinking competition for the alcohol to hit Ronon and even then he hadn't been ready to call an end to the night. Now, it was the middle of the night and John and Teyla were dragging him through the ship. He was probably going to pass out as soon as he hit the bed and he'd have one hell of a hang over in the morning.
"I can't believe how much he drank," Teyla stated, her voice showing the strain she was under, and John took more of Ronon's weight.
"We did try to tell him," John replied. "Which means we get mocking rights tomorrow."
"Good point," Teyla said as they finally reached the room, she let go of Ronon and opened the door stepping to the side so John could bring Ronon in. He dropped him on the bottom bunk even though Ronon had claimed top, there was no way he was going to get him up there even with Teyla's help.
"Alright, I'm going to my own room now," Teyla told him tiredly. "I will see you in the morning; don't use up all the mocking before I get the chance to join in."
"I'll make sure I save some for you," John said and Teyla nodded, smiling as she glanced at Ronon's half unconscious form and then left.
"She's pretty," Ronon mumbled and John rolled his eyes, trying and failing not to laugh.
"Yes she is," John replied. "And nice too, you might try being more sociable tomorrow."
"We're gonna be in America in a few days," Ronon said randomly changing subject. "Things will be better there."
"Let's hope so," John stated, it was the whole reason they were on this ship. To John America was home. He'd been born there, he'd spent the first few years of his life there until his parents had moved to England in the hopes of starting again. It hadn't worked out and they'd both died still trying to make it. His mother had gotten sick and died when John had still been a kid. John's father had tried moving again, they'd been to France for a while as well as a few other places that they hadn't stayed in long enough for John to remember them. They'd come back to England only for his father to be killed in a work accident as he tried to earn some money at a construction site.
Ronon snored, a sure sign that the big guy had fallen asleep and that John was going to get very little of it. John had known him since he and his father had moved back to England, when he had been just ten years old. Ronon was an orphan. He didn't even have any memory of his parents and he'd spent most of his younger years sneaking out of the orphanage. John's father had half taken him in, he and John spent their days causing trouble while his father worked whatever job he could get at the time.
He had no problem with his roots, his past had made him who he was and even though there were times when he thought it would be nice to have more than a few pence or dollars or whatever currency he was living in, he had no problem with his life. He accepted that he was third class; he made the best of everyday. The Titanic was carrying him to his knew life; hopefully America would have some adventures for him.