Disclaimer: I did not create the idea of 'Titanic' and claim no credit or merit for the initial idea. I am not held liable for and refuse to get involved with anything that will get me in legal trouble.


TITANIC

Chapter One: Because we will make it through the bitter cold

The icy water bit down deep into his skin, but he would keep holding onto the numbing metallic door and he would keep a smile on his handsome boyish face, as long as it kept her at peace. The glow of the silver moonlight made it difficult to differentiate whether their skin was ghostly and almost blue, because of the harsh, freezing water or simply because of the reflection of the moon.

Jack tried to curl his fingers, almost to check if they were still attached, but his phalanges had already stiffened, keeping him glued to the door. He glanced at the sleeping mass on top of the door; she was beautiful, even when frozen. The wind allowed her fiery red curls to dance lightly against her ivory neck which now had a pale blue tinge. Sighing, he remembered the warmth of her skin against his, the way that the caress of her hair against his clavicles a few hours prior had caused the blood to course fiercer through the veins that mapped out his body. There were many girls that he had had before Rose, but none of them quite cured the itch like she had. Smiling, he remembered how 'proper' she had been at first, turning her nose up at him even while she dangled on the edge of the ship, threatening her life. It usually had not taken much for the infamous Jack Dawson to break past the prim and proper exterior of a woman, but Rose had put up a little more of a fight.

Rose wasn't like his usual girls; she was funny, stubborn and driven. She was also the first person to ever pay him for sketching a portrait, in both a monetary and a physical fashion. Jack stifled a laugh as he remembered the way she stood before him and shrugged her fancy robe off of her narrow shoulders, wearing nothing, but 'the heart of the ocean' around her neck, the ridiculously huge stone rested against her throat. He had sketched her as she had asked, like one of his French girls, but this time he had to resist the burning desire in his gut, urging him to drop his art utensils to the floor and ravish this angelic being before him with his own hungry anatomy.

In the storage compartment on the ship, they had finally gotten the opportunity to physically unite. Her skin had been warm and welcoming, the kind of heat that reminded him of summer afternoons, back when he was a child. The air was cool, but in the car, things were just heating up. Mist had clouded up the windows from his panting and her heavy breathing, Rose held her hand against the window, absentmindedly, as if she was uncertain of the great beyond, but it was already too late and she had succumb to him.

But all of what had happened hours earlier was merely the past and now here they were, stuck in the middle of the ocean. The abyss of black water that they were floating in claimed the lives of many others that were aboard the Titanic. Jack watched as tired women and weak children were pulled deep beneath the waves.

"Will no amount of human sacrifice ever please you? "He whispered in anguish at nobody in particular, managing to exhale shallowly. Jack watched through the weight of his heavy lids as the white cloud from this exhalation ascended slightly, before vanishing

Jack gave in and allowed the shaky hands of sleep to grab hold of him and send him off into a much needed slumber.

A few hours later he was woken up by a violent force gripping his thin upper arms and a bright, near heavenly glow illuminating his face. He rubbed his eyes, little ice crystals were stuck to his golden eyelashes. The two scrawny men that were lifting him by the arms pulled his equally as scrawny body on board a small lifeboat. The boat was packed with at least ten other people, of various ages and social status'. Jack was forced into a seated position and carefully looked at each passenger up and down, to try and see if Rose was aboard. He smirked when he saw a small filthy boy in tatty clothing (much like his own) sharing an expensive velvet cape with a wealthy looking man in a black suit.

"I guess when there is a crisis, social hierarchy becomes meaningless," he thought to himself.

Jack suddenly noticed the face of a beautiful woman amongst the passengers. Porcelain skin was accompanied by wet, fiery red curls that were plastered against her heart shaped face. Jack felt as though he had been punched in the chest when he realized she was his Rose. Without allowing another moment to pass, he sprung to his feet, rocking the small boat and causing an eruption of tired complaints from the passengers, he took her by the hands and a smile crept over his lips as her large sapphire eyes met his. Dropping to his knees, he cupped her cold face in his capable hands and hungrily kissed the soft cushion of her scarlet lips.

"Are you quite done?" A stern voice from behind the young couple grumbled.

Jack looked at the old man with the ore and shrugged. In silence she collapsed into his arms and the faint heat from her body radiated against his. The wind was harsh on them, but Jack was just so consumed with happiness that it mattered not. In the distance they could see tiny life boats bobbing in the velvet black ocean, they looked like the seeds that a young Jack Dawson had once scattered on partially frosted soil, while helping his ill mother tend to the neglected garden.

Rose straightened her back up, returning to her usual upper-class disposition.

"Sir, where exactly are we going?" She enquired with her 'proper English' twang.

The elderly man with the ore and button up suit shrugged at her, but then smirked hopefully.

"We can only pray that God's mercy will grant us sanctuary on this new island."

Rose sighed and brushed a curl from her brow and returned to the thermal embrace of her lover.