Rose Bukater, having dropped her mother's name of DeWitt after the sinking of the RMS Titanic, sat in her dressing room after her first night as an actress at a minor playhouse in Manhattan, New York. She was desperate for love, but only from the man whom had taught her how to love. Jack Dawson was a man of many things. He was a talented artist, he had a wonderful way with words, he had an astounding history – at least, to Rose – and he had the sweetest, kindest heart. He was so brave, and he loved her so much that he died for her the night that Titanic sank. They were separated as soon as the ship had gone under, and Rose was sure that he'd died. She regrets having found a door to float on while her sweetheart was probably somewhere in the Atlantic freezing to death. She wished that she had been the one to die instead of him. She sighed, wishing she was in her beloved's arms at this very moment, but knowing it wasn't true.

"If only," she said to herself often, though people she said it in front of never understood, for she had never told a soul. The only living people who knew of her secret love were her ex-fiancé, Caledon Hockley and her uptight, selfish mother, Ruth DeWitt. She now lived with her father, Joseph Bukater in a wealthy neighborhood of Manhattan, New York. Her father held the title of 'wealthiest man in Manhattan', for he and his business partner, Henry Sherman owned a car company that build and sold popular car brands, like Renaults, Oldsmobiles and Prowlers. This company had given both Bukater and Sherman plenty of wealth to last them and their offspring through their entire lives.

Her mother, Rose had heard, was now working as a seamstress, exactly what she had told Rose that she'd never wished to do again. Ruth was not always wealthy, she was a poor girl from Philadelphia who went into an arranged marriage with Joseph in the late 1800s. They then had Rose, and then divorced soon after. Ruth had refused to let Joseph take care of Rose, so she took her away to Europe for the proper schooling. In Venice, Italy, Rose was forced into engagement as well at the age of seventeen to Caledon Hockley, a very wealthy man from Pittsburgh who needed a wife to gain his fortune. Ruth wanted this because she was running low on money from her divorce from Joseph and wanted more.

Rose felt tears stinging her eyes as she remembered the last time that Jack had held her. That sweet, wonderful, blonde-haired, blue-eyed man from Wisconsin had touched her soul in a way that no one else had, and she was grateful. Grateful that she had Jack to love her, grateful that he still loved her, even from Heaven. She felt his love grow stronger and stronger with each growing moment, and the more she felt it, the more she longed for him. She was desperate to be with him, desperate for the his touch, holding her tightly in his arms, desperate for the touch of his kiss on her lips, a kiss that warmed her body and her soul and that she treasured most, desperate to hear his voice saying 'I love you', words of which he had never uttered before. She loved him so much and wished to hold him one more time, but she knew that would never happen again.

Suddenly, a knock was heard at the door, and Rose was ripped from her thoughts at the rudeness of a man whom had entered the room with a vase full of red roses that covered his face. Rose turned around and glared at his rudeness.

"These are for Miss Rose DeWitt Bukater," said the man.

"It's just Rose Bukater, now," growled Rose angrily.

"My apologies, Miss," said the man. He set down the roses and Rose looked at his young face. He appeared to be a young man with dark eyes and light brown hair. He smiled at her as he handed her an envelope with her name written in calligraphy. "A man by the name of Dawson asked me to give this to you." Rose shuddered at the name, her eyes going wide as she took the envelope carefully.

"Uh… um… uh… thank you…," Rose told him. The man nodded to her, placing his cap back on his head and retreating from her dressing room, closing the door behind him. Rose waited until his footsteps died away before tearing open the letter and reading it to herself:

'My dearest Rose, how wonderful an actress you are! I came to see it tonight and was fascinated by your talents. I am glad to see that you have carried out your dreams and left that horrid witch of a woman behind. I have so many things to say to you and yet, so little space to put it. How I wish we could be together, how I wish I could hold you in my arms, I could kiss your lips and I could tell you I love you. I love you dearly and there isn't a thing that could change it. Tell me, Rose, do you love me, too? I can feel your love pulsating and I am counting the moments until we are together. I love you desperately, and I will see you soon, My love. – Jack'

That was it? After four months of being apart, this was all that her beloved had to say to her? He was alive, and she was upset with him. But he loved her… he actually loved her… Oh, but she was desperate to hear him say it, in his loving and caring voice. Where was he? He had to be here in New York, but she didn't know where. She wished to write a letter to him, but she had no knowledge of how to get it to him. So she rested her head on her vanity and cried.

…

The next day, Rose sat with her good friend, Lynette Shreefer, an Irish woman whom she had met on the RMS Titanic when Jack had brought her below decks. Lynette has thankfully survived, as did her young, five-year-old daughter, Cora. Lynette's first husband had died on the ship, but on the rescue ship, Carpathia, she had met an Irish man named Martin Shreefer, whom she had married last month. She was currently pregnant, having Martin's first child.

Rose was four months pregnant herself, only with Jack's first child. The couple had made love in the back of a Renault, owned by the Carter family. Now, four months later, Rose was showing definate signs of pregnancy, and she was grateful that this child was Jack's. If it was a boy, she had planned to name it after him. If it was a girl, well, she hadn't exactly thought of what to name it if it were a girl. Now that Jack was alive, that she was sure he was alive, she longed for him even more, and wanted him to be with her when her – no, their - child was born.

Lynette owned a small pub in Manhattan across from a large stage known at the time as Broadway. Rose longed to be an actress at Broadway, because a lot of greatly famous actors and actresses that are now in moving pictures got their start there. But for now, she stayed at the minor playhouses and views Broadway from Lynette's pub. Her pub, A Keg of Irish, was very popular for third class men in Manhattan, and often sold home-brewed beer that Lynette and her husband brewed themselves.

Rose had told Lynette about her letter from Jack and had to return home, so she bid Lynette farewell and stood up. Suddenly, her eye caught sight of a man with messy blonde hair. She couldn't see his face, but she felt a sudden urge to go to him. She didn't listen to it, for she believed that Jack would not come here. She sighed, thinking once more about making her way to the man, but decided against it, leaving the pub peacefully.

Jack looked back just as Rose closed the door behind her and caught a glimpse of her lean redheaded figure, but like Rose, he didn't believe that she would come here. He turned back around to the table and took a sip of his beer.