A/N: Wow, so...this is it. The end. it's actually kind of hard to believe it. I'm relieved on one level, because it means that I no longer have to worry about whether or not I'm going to be able to finish this beast, but on another level, I'm actually kind of sad. I wrote the first material for what would eventually be this story a year ago February, the first chapter went live last April...I mean seriously, this fic represents the work of over one year of my life. Which is sort of astounding to me. Mostly because, holy crap, I'm slow, lol. But also - this is officially my largest complete written work, including my various pieces of original fiction. The word document is 205 pages long. My previous longest story is 35. Holy crappity. Anyhoo, I can't really say anything about this chapter, but there are some important things to be said, so I give you this: A Dedication in Three Parts.

First, to my readers. To anyone to ever decided to give this story a chance, to everyone who put it on alerts, or left me a review, thank you thank you. Your support, even if it was silent, means a lot. Especially though, to three special ladies: Cookies - for coming into this fic somewhere around chapter 13 and embracing it totally, for your wonderful supportive comments and all-around heart-felt praise and encouragement, Vee - For reading this despite your tendency to stay away from fandoms you aren't familiar with, for reviewing every single chapter without fail, and not only that, but for giving me some of the the most helpful, insightful, ego-boosting comments that I have ever, ever had on a piece of writing, for letting me geek about my fav. Irish kids, and for being an awesome spell-check, and for always knowing what I was trying to accomplish, and lastly for my favourite Hedgehog for being, no joke, one of the key reasons that I ever got up the nerve to post this story, for being here quite literally from the moment I posted the first chapter right up until now, never failing to review and offer support. I couldn't have done it without you.

Second, to Peter Stone and Maury Yeston who wrote this beautiful musical in the first place, and the actors who brought it to life in the OBC - Jennifer Piech, Clarke Thorell, Erin Hill, Theresa McCarthy and Brian d'Arcy James (Kate, Jim, Mullins, Murphy and Barrett respectively). The characters you see in this fic would not exist if it hadn't been for these mind blowing performances. If I could ever meet any of them, I could die happy. For serious.

And last - to the 1517 people who lost their lives on the RMS Titanic, and the 711 survivors who had to live with that burden. I remember. This story is my small attmept to make sure that a few others remember as well.

Bitter April rain pounded the decks of the Carpathia as the ship approached the New York harbour, soaking any crewman or passenger who dared to venture out into the elements. Among them, Kate, not quite wet through to the skin but getting there. She stood against the rails of the forward Well Deck, peering through the deluge to try to catch her first glimpse of the place that would soon be her home.

"Kate, what in the name o' God are ye doin'?"

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Kate's mouth, but she didn't turn around, "I'm lookin' fer the Statue o' Liberty,"

Jim came up beside her and grasped her above the elbow, "Aye, an' yer gettin' soaked," he chastised her, attempting to steer her back into the shelter of the stairwell, "Yer gonna be landin' in New York with a ragin' case o' pneumonia,"

Kate made a face, but followed him out of the rain, "Ye find a crewman then? Someone as knows what's gonna happen when we get there?" She shook her head to dispel water from her curls, which were plastered in a sodden tangle to her face and neck.

"I did, aye," Jim said, blinking against the sudden spray of rain water, "Jesus Kate, that's cold,"

"Sorry."

He shot her a bemused look and continued, "Fella said we'd be pullin' in within the hour. They're unloadin' the rich folk first, o' course," Jim paused, his tone taking on a distinctly wry note, and Kate lightly tweaked his earlobe to prompt him to keep speaking. He twitched an eyebrow at her, but went on, "Third class'll be last te leave. It'll probably be good an' late by then."

"Ah well," Kate said with a sigh and a shake of her head, "It's not as though we've got anywhere te be, is it?"

"I s'pose not," Jim agreed.

For a few minutes they stood side by side without speaking, watching the rain fall. It was dark already, liable to be black as pitch by the time they actually pulled in to shore. In the distance a smudge of yellow light was all that indicated the approach of land. Kate stared at this refracted glow unblinkingly as though she was afraid it was nothing more then a trick of her vision, a mirage caused by the rain. It had been a week since she had last had a glimpse of anything but vast, endless ocean. It seemed like an eternity to her, a whole lifetime; so much had happened since Kate had watched the familiar shores of Ireland vanish into the horizon.

Folding her arms across her stomach, Kate said, "What d'we do now?"

Jim looked down at her, a frown creasing his features, "Right this minute?" He asked, being deliberately obtuse, "Or when we get there?"

"When we get there smart-boots," Kate replied, elbowing him gently in the ribs. She twiddled one of the buttons on her coat, "I never really had a plan ye know. I was gonna find a boardin' house, get a room fer m'self…but I s'pose that doesn't work so well now."

"That's what ye get fer goin' an' ropin' some poor sod into marryin' ye," Jim said, his tone utterly solemn. Only the slight crinkling around the corners of his eyes betrayed his teasing. Kate elbowed him again, harder this time. He winced, "I deserved that,"

Kate nodded, "Damn right ye did,"

All serious once again, Jim said, "I've got a friend there, made the crossin' two years ago. He'll get us settled, place te live an' all that,"

"And he knows yer…" Kate hesitated and cleared her throat delicately, "Still comin'?"

Jim gave her a tight-lipped smile, "Aye. I sent him a wire te tell him I was, Tuesday eve, when we telegraphed our families. He'll be ready fer us."

"Us," Kate repeated, scuffing her boot against the floor boards, "He knows 'bout me then?"

"Sure he does," Jim said. "Why, did ye think I'd want te keep ye secret?"

Kate shrugged. For the past four days she had been secure in her anonymity, knowing that there wasn't anyone nearby who would question her relationship with Jim. Now, faced with the prospect of starting a life together, she couldn't help but wonder how he would handle the curiosity and accusations that were sure to come flying at them from all directions. "It crossed me mind that ye maybe wouldn't know how te explain me te people,"

"Oh I've got a story all worked out," Jim replied, sounding unconcerned. Catching the suspicious look she was giving him, he smiled, "Sure, it's simple; I met this smart-mouthed, cheeky red-headed girl on the ship an' now we're gettin' married. Anythin' besides that's none o' their damn business."

It would forever be a mystery to Kate how, of every possible man whose life she could have stumbled into, she'd lucked into Jim. She shook her head, and rubbed the bridge of her nose, hoping that he hadn't noticed the way her eyes had just welled up. "Sweet talker," she grumbled fondly. Jim grinned at her, but Kate was distracted from further comment by a sudden commotion out on deck. Squinting out into the rain to see what was going on, Kate gasped, "Jim, oh Jim look!"

She had darted out into the downpour again before Jim could think to stop her. Kate could hear him cursing under his breath as he hurried after her. "Fer the love o' God Kate," he snapped, "Ye'd think ye wanted te catch yer death or somethin'"

Kate ignored him, "Look," she repeated urgently, pointing at something just beyond the Carpathia's bow, "There she is,"

And there she was; the Statue of Liberty. Obscured by rain and darkness it had taken longer for her to come into view, but now she towered before them in all her glory, the lady who would welcome them to their new home. Kate, staring up at statue, blinking rain water out of her eyes, felt suddenly very small.

"Isn't she grand?" Kate breathed, grasping Jim's arm. Several other passengers had braved the inclement weather to see the statue as the Carpathia steamed past. This small crowd, all with faces upturned, pointed and talked to each other in reverent voices. It was the first signs of hope that Kate had seen among any of her fellow survivors, and the sight made her voice hitch in her throat, "I wish…" she began, but found herself unable to finish the thought.

Jim knew what she was trying to say anyway, "Aye," he agreed, putting his arms around her shoulders and pulling her close, so that her back was against his chest, "I know. I wish they were here te see it too." There was no need to define the 'they' to which he referred.

Kate closed her eyes and leaned back against him. The rain had tapered off from the downpour of earlier to a steady fine drizzle that clung her hair and eyelashes like an overlay of the finest lace. She should have been cold, but she was not, wearing the safety of Jim's embrace like the warmest shawl. Kate could not recall at any point in her life being overcome with such a profound combination of sadness and happiness. The warring emotions boiled, chaotic, through her body, making it hard to breathe, or to hold her own weight. They would want me to be happy, she told herself, they would want me to be happy.

A small noise, almost a sigh, almost a sob, slipped unchecked from Kate's throat, and Jim looked at her sharply, tilting her face towards his so that she could see her better. "Katie," he said, dismay flickering across his face, "Yer cryin',"

How he could tell the difference between tears and the rain drops that streaked her cheeks, Kate didn't know. She wiped her face with the damp sleeve of her coat, "I s'pose I am," she said, "But not fer the reasons ye think,"

"No?" Jim asked.

"No," Kate shook her head, adamant. She chewed her lower lip for a moment, trying to find a way to explain. Her grief for Mullins and Murphy and Barrett was deep and still-painful, and though she would bear the scar of it always, the wound was not mortal, and slowly it would heal. Had, indeed, already begun to heal. And this, the hope that welled up inside her at the sight of the statue and the glow of the shoreline was the proof that Jim had been right, that things would get better. "I'm cryin' because we made it Jim. We're here,"

That was the gift they'd been given, and Kate's tears, for once, were not for the absence of her friends, but rather for the fact that they had wanted her to be happy, and somehow, when she looked beneath the layer upon layer of sorrow and regret and broken dreams, she was. Or at least, she would be, eventually. And that was enough for now.

Jim, for his part, seemed to grasp her full meaning, because he nodded and smiled, and stroked her cheek, "We're here."

Kate returned the smile, then moved away from Jim for a moment, looking contemplatively towards shore. Jim followed, coming up beside her but neither speaking, nor touching, just waiting for her to tell him what else was on her mind. Kate was silent for a long while, and when she finally spoke, what she said was, "Fred,"

Jim's features folded into an expression of pure bafflement, "Sorry?"

The corners of Kate's mouth twitched once, signalling her amusement at his confusion, but otherwise she remained perfectly serious. She turned to face Jim, one hand moving to rest in its habitual place just below her waist line. "If it's a boy," Kate said, smoothing the material of her coat across her belly in gentle reminder, "Fred."

If she had punched in him the nose and thrown him overboard, Jim would not have look so thunderstruck. It was hard to say precisely what had had such an effect on him. It could have been the fact that she had finally decided to broach the topic of the baby in direct terms, instead of as a vague, abstract idea that they could worry about later. Or, it could have been the name.

"Fred," Jim repeated. His voice was strangely muffled, as though he was speaking around a wad of cotton, and the muscles in his jaw and neck were working furiously. Jim cleared his throat, "Short fer Frederick I'd guess,"

Kate nodded, "That's right," she said. She picked a piece of fluff from the front of her coat, where the material had begun to pill, and felt inexplicably shy. "I thought that'd be… I thought that'd be proper. Then his second name'd be James, after you. Does it suit ye?"

It took several moments before Jim was able to reply. When he did, his voice was still tight, but he seemed to have gotten a hold of himself otherwise. "It's perfect," Jim said, taking both of her hands, "Frederick James…"

"Farrell," Kate finished firmly, "He'll have yer name or none at all,"

This brought a smile to Jim's face, a lop-sided, goofy grin that Kate had never seen before; he looked like a little boy, and the sight made her giggle in spite of the solemnity of the conversation. Jim lifted each of her hands to his lips and kissed her knuckles, "I like the sound o' that,"

"Sort o' fond of it me own self," Kate agreed, beaming at him.

Jim kissed the end of her nose, "And if it's girl? Ye'll want te name her Katherine I s'pose."

Kate laughed, a little ruefully, "Ah no, the last thing this world needs is another Irish Kate," she said, "Mullins an' Murphy'd agree with me on that." Kate allowed herself a small, sad smile at the mention of her friends, "No, if it's a girl we'll think of somethin' else. 'Sides, it's prob'ly a boy. They run in me family ye know."

"Oh aye? An' what does that make you then?" Jim inquired, his eyebrows raised.

Kate aimed a kick at Jim's ankle, which he dodged, "I'm serious! An' it's not just that; I think it's a boy. Just a feelin' I have,"

"All right fine. Lord knows I'm not gonna argue with ye once ye've set yer mind on somethin'," Jim said with good-natured exasperation. He put his arms around her again, "So, wee Fred is it?"

"Aye," Kate confirmed, lacing her fingers across her stomach. It felt strange, to be suddenly thinking of this baby, which had for so long been nothing but a dreadful secret, as a real person, with a name and a future. It made Kate's mind spin. "When he's old enough te understand," she said, her tone much more serious than before, "We'll tell him how he got his name. That way, he'll know the story too, 'stead o' just us. That way, they won't really die, d'ye see?"

Jim tightened his hold on her, and rested his chin against the top of her head, "Nothin' could honour 'em more Kate. Nothin' in the world." Kate shifted so that she could wrap her arms around his waist, snuggling as close as she could against his side. For a while they stood like that without speaking, content to merely be in each other's presence, watching the rapidly approaching shoreline. Eventually, Jim said, "Ye know we really ought te go inside an' get dried off. Don't know 'bout you, but I'm plumb soaked,"

Kate had hardly even noticed the rain – now no more than a fine, cold mist – for the past half hour. She pouted, "I want te watch the dockin'," she said. Jim immediately opened his mouth to protest and Kate, with a smirk, waved him quiet, "I know, I know, I'll catch pneumonia."

"Well ye could," Jim said tweaking her nose, "You an' that sassy smart mouth o' yers."

"Me an' my sassy smart mouth are gonna give ye a good kick in the pants Jim Farrell," Kate replied, pulling away from him and heading for the entry to below decks, "But just fer you I'll go,"

Jim rolled his eyes and did his utmost to look annoyed, but was unable to keep the smile off his face. When he caught up to her, she grinned and laced her fingers through his. Hand in hand they disappeared into the ship for what would likely be the very last time.

It was nearly two hours later that the call came for third class passengers to proceed to the gangway. Kate, towelled dry and with a warm cup of tea in her belly, had returned to the decks long before, to watch the proceedings. It was so strange to be stationary, to longer feel the ocean breeze moving through her hair and clothes, or the rumble of the engines beneath her feet. Kate had not realised how used to these things she had become. For some reason, the solid permanence of land intimidated her now.

Jim, hearing the call from the megaphone, emerged from below decks and hurried towards her. He was carrying a bundle in his arms and he handed this to Kate saying, "Our turn now Katie. What's goin' on down there?"

"Not much anymore," Kate said, taking the bundle. It consisted of a grey woollen blanket, heavy and warm, stenciled with the Carpathia's name. It was wrapped around Kate's nightgown, and a moss green shawl that had been another donation from one of the other passengers. These three items, plus the clothes Kate currently wore, were all the possessions she had in the world. Everything else, the small things that she had chosen to make the journey with her, lay down at the bottom of the Atlantic. "It's near deserted now, 'cept fer the dock workers an' such,"

When the Carpathia had first pulled into port, the docks had been crawling with people. Family members, government representatives, White Star and Cunard officials, reporters, doctors, and simple busy-bodies had been hours in the rain, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the liner and her grim cargo. Kate had pitied the poor souls who had been forced to disembark in the midst of this chaos of shouted words and jostling bodies. She was glad that most of the crowd seemed to have dispersed long ago.

"Guess most of the real important people've left now," Jim said with a wry smirk, "Them that's better fer news an' all,"

Kate made a noise of dismissal, "An' all the better fer us I say. It was like a bloody riot down there fer the first while,"

Jim nodded, and for a moment the pair of them did nothing but stare wordlessly at the docks, the first American ground they would step onto. Jim tugged the peak of his cap and tapped his knuckles against the railings, an anxious gesture that made Kate wonder if he'd done it before, on the fishing boat, when he was watching a storm brewing on the horizon. "Well, s'pose we go then?"

Mouth suddenly bone dry, Kate opted not to speak. She nodded and smiled, feeling the muscles in her face strain, and, tucking her blanket under one arm, followed Jim to where the third class were getting ready to leave the ship.

It was impossible not to notice how pitiful and bedraggled they all still were, and how very weary. Kate wondered how many of these people had family or friends, or someone waiting for them. Did they have a place to go, somewhere warm for the night? Or were they like she would have been if not for Jim, alone, destitute, with nothing to claim but the clothes on their back and nowhere to go that would make them feel welcome? Though she had promised herself that she would not think about it, Kate couldn't help but wonder what this day would have been like if things had happened the way they were supposed to. It should have been all sunlight and smiles and glorious excitement, not this.

But there was no sense in dwelling on that. However it had happened, however wrong absolutely everything had gone, they had still made it. They had made it. And that was thing that really mattered. Kate stood up straighter, determined not to walk into her new life with her head bowed. It wasn't until the ramp clicked into place on the docks and the gate was opened that the full impact of what was about to happen hit her.

Very soon, in literally a matter of minutes, she would be stepping off of this ship onto the ramp, then off of the ramp and into a world that was unfamiliar, chilling in its indifference, and absolutely nothing like she'd imagined. On the Titanic, it had been easy to act like she was ready for anything, to blunder forward with heedless bravado, daring anyone or anything to tell her that she was wrong. It had been easy then to think like that, so much easier to be brave when standing between two other girls who were just as scared and unsure as she was.

But those girls were gone, and that blind self-assurance was gone, and that whole wonderful perfect world that she had dreamed up was gone, and she was just Kate. Just one frightened girl in a strange place that did not care two ways what happened to her or not. And for one terrible moment, Kate was sure that she couldn't do it, that there was no way that she was going to be able to walk down the ramp and into that vast unknown place that was now her life.

"Kate?"

But of course there was Jim, Kate thought. Jim, who was safe and familiar and steadfast, the rock she could anchor herself to. Jim, who would not let her be alone.

"I'm fine," Kate said, and to her ear she sounded as though she believed that, "I'm fine." She took a deep breath, and began to move, small steps, hampered by the pace of people ahead of her. She thought that she might be trembling, but Kate lifted her chin and tried to remember what it had been like to be brave. She had come this far and she would not give up now. There were too many people counting on her.

At the top of the ramp, Kate hesitated for only a moment, which was almost one moment too many. There was a part of her that wanted to run away, run and hide and forget that she had ever even heard about this so-called New World. But she forced herself to keep walking, to put one foot in front of the other, because that was the only way to make it from second to second: to keep going, to keep pushing ahead.

Kate almost made it. It was as she approached the bottom of the ramp, literally one stride's difference between being on the gangway and being on dry land, that she stopped, frozen in place as though someone had turned her to stone. Kate swallowed, knowing that she had to move but suddenly, this close to the end, unable to make her body obey her commands.

People at the back of the line began to mutter impatiently, and a bewildered looking crew man gestured for her to keep moving. Kate, her folded blanket clutched to her chest, stared at him, feeling ridiculous, feeling terrified. She could not make her legs work.

Jim, who had been walking directly behind her, came immediately to her side, "Katie, what's the matter?"

Kate looked up at him blinking hard, "The next step I take I'm off the boat," she said quietly, her voice quivering and hoarse with emotion, "the next step I take I can't turn 'round and come back, I can't change me mind. There's so much I have te do, there's so much that's gonna happen." She hugged her blanket harder, and swallowed, "I'm scared Jim,"

"I know," Jim said. He took one of her hands, gently unhooking her fingers from the material of the blanket, "But we're gonna be ok. You told me we'd have te remind each other, aye? Well, I'm tellin' ye now: you an' me, we're gonna be just fine,"

That was all she needed to hear. Kate closed her eyes, took a deep breath and nodded. She believed him. They would be fine. They would get married, and she would have the baby and they would raise their family and be the people that they wanted to be. They would remember how they got there. They would make everyone proud. "Yes," she said, "all right,"

Jim smiled at her, "Good girl," he turned so that they were shoulder to shoulder on the ramp, keeping firm hold of her hand, "We'll go at the same time, aye? When yer ready,"

It was time, Kate knew, time to move on, time to let go. Letting go did not mean forgetting. She would go on, always, always remembering. Mullins, Murphy, Fred Barrett, so many had died, but Kate was still here, and she was their legacy. She would live, and through her, so would they.

Kate squared her shoulders, set her jaw and nodded once, "I'm ready," she said. Jim gave her hand one final squeeze. She squeezed back, hard, and they stepped forward, together.

End.