A/N: This is only chapter one, and I do have two more chapters already written. And if I can find the time, inspiration, and hopefully some feedback, I'll do my best to continue the fic. :) I hope you enjoy.

YOU, ALWAYS

CHAPTER ONE: An Absolution

April 15, 1912

The bright light cut sharply through the darkness, and Rose's heart leapt into her throat. She rolled over onto her stomach slightly, squeezing Jack's hand. His fingers were numb and cold. "Jack," she squeezed his hand again. "Jack." Terror gripped her heart. He had to wake up. He couldn't be dead, not now, not after everything they had been through. Not now that help was so close, that this icy hell would end. He couldn't die.

Jack's beautiful eyes fluttered open, a weak smile making his lips curve upwards slightly. "Hey…" he croaked.

Rose smiled despite the situation, as relief crashed over her much warmer than the Atlantic waves had, and tightened her grip on his hand. "There's a boat Jack," she murmured. The light of one of the men's flashlights was starting to pass. "Come back!" she called, her voice hoarse.

"Come back!" Jack joined in, but it was no good. Their voices were too weak to be heard across the icy water.

Rose looked around at the dark water and all the frozen bodies, feeling sick to her stomach. You're gonna die an old, old lady… Not here, not like this, not this night, do you understand me? She refused to die here; to let either of them die here.

As the boat passed, she caught a glimpse of glistening metal: the whistle, frozen to a man's lips only a few arm-strokes away.

"Jack, I need you to swim Jack," she whispered to him, and with difficulty, removed his freezing hand from her own. She tipped herself into the water, the iciness seeping into her bones, into her very soul, freezing her from the inside out. If she had thought she had been cold before, it was nothing compared to this.

Jack realized what she was doing and moved after her. His movements were sluggish and heavy – unlike Rose, he didn't have a life-vest – but the feel of her shaking, cold hand in his was his strength as they padded towards the dead man with the whistle.

Rose reached him first and pulled the whistle from his lips and blew hard. The metal was cold and bitter against her tongue, tainted with human flesh, but the sound was shrill and loud. With Jack's hand still in her own, Rose blew furiously.

"Come about!" the man on the boat hollered, and the light found their faces, and Rose knew they were saved. It was that realization that made her adrenaline fade, and her strength collapsed in on itself. Only the floating piece of wood kept her from her body from giving out on her, and Jack's misty breath in her ear, and her freezing fingers tightly clutching his. His hand felt like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to the earth, her body so exhausted and drained, both emotionally and physically.

Strong, warm hands lifted her out of the water, and Rose felt her hand slide out of Jack's. Her body went limp like a ragdoll as the men helped her onto a bench. Blankets were draped over her shoulders, but the cold didn't fade away at all until Jack was brought into the boat beside her. His hair was thick with icicles, freezing to the touch, but Rose still brushed it back and kissed his forehead gently.

"I thought I lost you, for a second," she said, her voice thick with tears. Jack, though visibly exhausted, opened his arms and allowed Rose to curl up in them before he took blankets from the men.

"I told you I was a survivor," he said tenderly, kissing the top of her soaking hair and tucking a few curly wet strands behind her ear. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, and she rested his head on his chest. Faintly, she could hear his steady heartbeat, and for the first time since the ship had hit the iceberg, she felt like she could breathe.

"I love you Jack," she whispered again. Before it had been a goodbye – she could still remember the determination that had settled over Jack's features, the promise they had made. I'll never let go. She had every intention of keeping it, forever.

Jack's teeth chattered, but he still smiled for her. "I love you Rose."

The boat joined the other survivors after almost an hour, as the sun started to burn away the night. Warmth washed over her as the sun hit her face, with Jack's arms wrapped around her, Rose felt her body begin to thaw. The screams of the drowning people, and the deadly silence that had followed were still trapped in her mind – Rose suspected it would always be there. But, at the very least, she had Jack.

She snuggled closer to him, burying her face in his neck. Her flyaway hair tickled his nose, not that Jack minded. The quivering of her body was another beautiful reminder that they were both safe and alive.

"Hey," Jack shifted slightly, craning his neck to get a better look over her head. "I can see the Carparthia."

Rose turned over, and sure enough, she could see the gray hull of the ship on the horizon. The sky was slowly turning blue, hardly a cloud in the sky. It hardly seemed like only four days had passed since she had boarded another ship, the Titanic, since she had met Jack. It felt like a lifetime ago, and a life she was glad to leave behind.

She tightened her grip on Jack's hand, quickly finding him again as she was helped onto the Carparthia. The wooden deck seemed uneven under her feet, her legs wobbling, while she waited for Jack to board the boat too.

The survivors in the lifeboats – Rose did a quick sum in her head – maybe 1000 or so, probably less, had already settled onto the deck. Quite a few women were in the Steerage deck, mostly anxious mothers with tired children. There were a few men, but Rose didn't spy any of Jack's friends, Fabrizio or Tommy Ryan among them. She swallowed hard. Only when the survivor's lists came out would they be able to know for sure, but the hallow feeling in her was sure they hadn't survived.

Rose and Jack holed up one on of the benches, letting the sun warm their faces. New clothes would be brought out as soon as possible, but for now, allowing them to dry naturally was their only option.

"You know," Rose said slowly. She was still trying to reclaim the proper use of her voice. "It's been years since I've worn a dress without a corset."

Jack leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss. "Made it much easier to take off," he murmured in her ear. Rose flushed, slapping his arm lightly. She laughed, and it felt like such a beautiful, foreign thing to do when only hours ago she would have been willing to die in the freezing cold water, unable to hold onto hope, only a promise to the man she loved and thought she had lost.

But they were here now. They had a future she had started to think was impossible.

"You're still shivering," she noted, her smile fading and her eyes growing soft with concern. "You were in the water for so long Jack." Her voice shook.

Jack placed his forehead against hers, cupping her face with his hands. "Hey, I'm here now, right?" he said gently, giving her a tiny smile. "I'm alright. You're not gonna lose me. Nothing on Earth can come between us, alright? Not Cal, not an iceberg, nothing. You jump-"

"I jump," she finished, and smiled. She knew he was right, but she also knew her fears about losing him wouldn't fully go away for a long, long time. "We should both probably go down to the infirmary, there should have some medicine to help." Rose hoisted Jack to his feet, his legs wobbling. Despite feeling very weak herself, Rose slung his arm over her shoulders to help support his weight.

"Thanks Rose," he muttered as she helped him down the stairs below decks. It felt so strange to be on a boat, in a way, with the gentle rocking of the waves. Rose could easily feel the ice cold water washing over her and she had to pause halfway down the stairs to catch her breath. Jack's brow furrowed, eyes shining with concern. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," was all Rose managed to say. "Just… memories, of the sinking." She didn't have to elaborate; she knew Jack understood. He had always understood her better than anyone she had ever known.

Jack nodded, and then they reached the infirmary. It was a large room, with beds spread out in all directions. A few people were lying in them, and Rose could see some Titanic survivors recovering. Survivors. She wondered how many had died. Hundreds of people had been in the water, but just how many, Rose wasn't sure. She bet at least half the people on the boat hadn't made it, but it still felt surreal to think about.

"How may I help you?" a nurse asked, a plump middle-aged woman, and the silver nametag pinned to her apron read Debbie.

"We were on the Titanic, and my…" Rose trailed off. What exactly were she and Jack? They were far past courting, but they weren't engaged at all. All she knew was that they were going to start a life together, and he was the only man she ever wanted to be with. But they had never really discussed it, or if they were going to get married; Rose had just assumed, and Jack had never said anything against it, but never anything for it either…

"Husband," Jack supplied, and Rose's heart swelled, feeling a rush of affection for him. "We were in the water, well I was, for a while and figured we needed something to catch anything before it starts."

"Very smart sir," Debbie said, smiling.

"Call me Jack, please," he requested, and Debbie nodded. Rose thought back to the first conversation she and Jack had had, after he had saved her from committing suicide.

Mr. Dawson-

Jack.

"And Rose will be needing something too," he squeezed her hand, and Rose smiled at him. Husband. She quite liked the sound of it. And Rose Dawson had a nice ring to it, didn't it?

She and Jack followed Debbie over to some of the beds with white sheets and metal frames, side by side. "These can be yours. I'll be back in a jiff with some medicine, and a change of clothes for the two of you." She bustled away, while Rose took a seat on her bed, and Jack sat beside her.

"So, husband?" Rose whispered, barely able to contain her smile. Jack ran a hand through his floppy hair.

"Well, yeah?" he said, sounding slightly nervous. "I mean, I'd like to be, I know everything's been happening so fast and we still have a lot to figure out but…"

"I want to marry you Jack," Rose told him, placing her hand over his. Jack looked at her wide-eyed, his face breaking into a grin.

"Really?"

"Really." She leaned into him, and he wrapped an arm around her waist. "Besides, I've been thinking, we need to make sure mother and Cal can't find us, right? So if I give my name as Rose Dawson on the survivor's list, that problem with be solved."

"That'd mean cutting ties with everyone you knew," Jack said slowly. "Are you sure you want to?"

Rose kissed him softly; his lips still felt cold, but Rose felt a surge of warmth anyway, lacing her fingers through his before she pulled away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life. There's nothing back there for me. I don't care about money, or anything… except you. You're all that I want. I want you, always."

Jack tightened his grip around her, pulling her closer and kissing her hair. "So, since you're taking my name, you want to make it official?" he smiled. "You'll have to wait to get a ring, though."

Rose kissed his fingers. "I don't even need a ring. I have you."

"Ah yes," Jack beamed at her, "but I need some way of warning off men who might try to steal you away. You're quite gorgeous, you know." Rose blushed; it was the first time Jack had really called her beautiful. "And I suppose you're worried about all those women who'll come to flirt with me too," he puffed out his chest, drawing a giggle out of her.

"Not really," she teased, running her fingers through his hair. Jack pouted, and she giggled again. "Jack," she laughed, and then coughed. Her throat was still too sore. "I'm alright," she squeaked out, when he looked at her in concern. "I'm sure your throat hurts too, you did a lot more talking than I did."

"I could hear you singing though," Jack pointed out. "It was the only thing keeping me awake, near the end." Rose wrapped her arms around him in a hug, gently cupping his cheek with her hand.

There was a quiet cough and the lovers broke apart to see Debbie standing there with two cups of brown liquid. "I hope I'm not intruding on anything," the nurse apologized.

"Not at all," Rose assured her. Debbie handed over the cups of medicine. "Thank you Debbie." Rose wrinkled her nose as she took a sip; it tasted disgusting, like some very rich caviar liquefied, which she had always detested. Jack looked similarly displeased by the taste.

Debbie gave them sympathetic looks. "I know the stuff tastes nasty, but it'll do you some good in the long run. I've asked a doctor to come take a more serious look at both of you, you could have gotten hypothermia out in the water and the sooner you catch it the better. The doctor will be along later this afternoon, but for now you can do what you want. There's a dining hall up on deck, and until New York everything's free for the survivors, if you're in the mood for some food."

"I think some rest will be good for us," Rose said. Her body had been running on nothing but adrenaline since the Titanic had begun sinking, and the night prior she had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning at the third class party. She had never felt more exhausted, yet more awake, in her entire life.

Debbie nodded. "Probably for the best, Miss Rose. They're taking names up on deck for the survivor's list, should I add yours and your husband's?"

"Jack and Rose Dawson," Jack answered. "Thank you Debbie. And if you wouldn't mind showing us the list once it's complete, that would be very kind of you." Debbie gave them a quick smile before going up the stairs. "You know," Jack said once Debbie had left, "she kinda reminds me of Molly Brown."

"I can see what you mean," Rose agreed, stifling a yawn. "It's probably the accent."

She and Jack moved towards one of the nearby screens to change behind into the new clothes Debbie had brought. They were simple and white, made of low-quality fabric - probably the cheapest thing Rose had ever worn - but it was a relief to be out of their damp clothes. Rose hadn't even realized she was still wearing Cal's coat, and slipped it off and shimmied out of her gown, leaving them on a nearby chair to dry. Now that they were out of danger, and for now at least, being safely taken care of, her body was giving in to how tired she was. "I hope you don't mind moving to the next bed over?" Rose asked, once they had come back to their beds. "I can't bear the thought of moving another inch tonight."

"We could just share?" Jack offered. "I don't think Debbie would mind, and in her eyes, we're husband and wife and it wouldn't be too cramped… If you're comfortable with it, that is." Jack looked at her for consent.

Rose pulled the covers and slipped inside, patting the space beside her. "I've never woken up beside someone before," she confessed, as Jack joined her. "You?" she added hesitantly. Jack had told her he had never had any love affairs with any of the French girls from his drawings, but she still had to wonder about his past lovers. Deep down, she knew it didn't really matter, and all that mattered was that he was with her now, but you couldn't blame her for being curious.

Jack shook his head. "No. I've courted girls, in the past, but I was always traveling too much to have anything serious… You're my first and last Rose." She rested her head on his chest, feeling warm and safe, able to make out his heartbeat, pounding like a beating drum, strong and steady. It was a relief to hear it, like a lullaby from childhood, a much happier time.

Jack wrapped his arms around her, pulling the blanket over her more up to her shoulder. "I love you," she murmured.

He kissed her forehead. "I love you too."