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A moment is all it takes for one's life to change forever. For many, it was the moment Titanic struck an iceberg in the Northern Atlantic that freezing April night. But for high society Rose Dewitt-Bukater, it was the moment she met Jack Dawson. The moment their eyes connected on the decks, Rose felt a twinge deep inside. Instantly her eyes darted out over the horizon, but eventually they trailed back to Jack. His fierce blue eyes pierced her soul. He saw right through the façade to see who she really was underneath all the first class finery.
Jack. Jack Dawson. The words rolled around like tumbleweeds in her head. His name sounded sweet, like honey to bees, to her starving ears. Rose longed to hear Jack's voice; she yearned for his touch. The time Rose shared with him was little but precious. She clung to those moments now like they were her lifeline. Her memories, and a promise, were all that kept her from sliding into some dark place, that kept her hanging on to what little spirit she had left in her.
Very slowly, the fire that Jack loved about her was going from flames to embers.
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The very moment Rose stepped off Carpathia's gangway onto New York City's docks, cameras snapped in her face. Family and friends of the passengers crowded her, searching for loved ones. Rose ducked into the crowds, blending in the best she knew how. She couldn't deal with the prying reporters and staring eyes. It was as if the eyes of people with lost loved ones were asking her why she was here and their loved one was not. Everyone would be full of questions, demanding answers.
'I can't believe this,' Rose thought as she watched the rest of the Third Class passengers descend the gangway. 'Even in a tragedy like this the bastards are still worried about social status and rank.'
Near the edge of the crowd, a shiny black Renault trimmed in gold stood in all its glory, waiting for its passengers. Rose watched from the shadows cast by one of the city's many skyscrapers. From the masses emerged Caledon Hockley and Ruth DeWitt-Bukater. Rose pressed herself against the brick building, willing herself to become invisible. As far as her former fiancé and mother were concerned, Rose DeWitt-Bukater had perished on the Titanic. Rose Dawson was alive and well. If a caterpillar could become a butterfly, if the unsinkable ship could now be lying at the bottom of the Atlantic, would it really be so hard for Rose to transform into somebody else?
No, Rose decided. It was possible.
Rose stayed in the shadows until the massive crowds began to thin. All the crew were ashore now and had gone.
"Rose!"
Rose's head jerked around when she heard her name being called. For a moment she was fearful that her mother saw her. Her pumping heart slowed when she saw it was Molly Brown who came calling. Rose peeled her body off the side of the building as Molly approached.
"Good heavens, child! You look a positively terrifying sight," said Molly, trying her best to imitate the other First Class passengers.
"Mrs. Brown, I thought you would be gone by now."
"I stayed aboard until everyone else descended. My language skills were a major helpful asset, I wager. I'm waiting for my son to arrive. Why aren't you with your mother and fiancé?" wondered the fellow survivor. Molly occupied lifeboat 6, the same as Ruth, Rose's mother.
"Oh no. Please don't tell them you have seen me. My mother thinks me to be dead and if you please I wish to keep it this way," pleaded Rose.
"Your secret is safe with me, honey," Molly promised. "Your mother never went out of her way to make me feel comfortable and accepted. If I never see Ruth or Cal Hockley again, God help me it will be too soon."
"Thank you, Mrs. Brown. This means the world to me."
"Call me Molly. Are you staying with anyone?"
"No. The only people I know are associated with Mother and Cal."
"That settles it. You'll come with me. I have plenty of room to spare."
"I couldn't…" Rose began.
"Yes, you can. I can offer you a place to hide from the media, the questions, and the rumors surrounding all of this. It would be an honor if you would be my guest, Rose."
Finally Rose agreed. Molly noticed the Dawson boy was no where to be found. Surely he hadn't deserted Rose after all they went through? The only acceptable answer Molly could think of was the worst possible one. She concluded it would be best to wait and let Rose talk about these matters in her own time.
Molly's son, Lawrence, arrived at the docks as the rest of the crowd dissipated into the city, leaving only those with nobody there to meet them and nowhere to go. Mrs. Brown tucked Rose's arm into her own as Lawrence escorted the two of them to their waiting vehicle. On the way to the Brown residence, Rose was mostly quiet. She watched out the window as the streets and buildings of New York City gradually melted together. She tried to think of things other than Titanic, but everything led back to Jack somehow. Molly chattered away about her home, keeping the subject of Titanic in the distance. They would hear enough of that in the weeks to come.