A/N: Recently, I have been overly obsessed with "Titanic". I will admit that I have only seen the movie twice (so there might be some mistakes), but I am in love with it so much right now. So to fuel that obsession and do something useful with it, I figured I write a fanfic. Overused title I know, but I couldn't think of anything else. I'll change it as some point. Enjoy :)
My Heart Will Go On : Chapter 1
So I'm sure you've all heard my story. Jack Dawson, the third-class gutter rat. The struggling artist from Wisconsin and who traveled the world without looking back once. I was a free spirit kind of guy which appeared to always have more pros than cons. I was also the total opposite of her, and I'm not talking about our societal statuses. I'm sure you were told that Jack Dawson died in the sinking of the Titanic on April 15th, 1912. That I died of hypothermia with my beloved Rose by my side? But what if I told you I didn't die. What if I didn't die with the unsinkable ship that night?
April 21st , 1912
Jack
I sat on the steps outside of an Irish pub in downtown New York with an unlit cigarette held between my lips. I forgot how alive this city was. How it never slept. Although, I will admit it was nothing compared to Paris. People are alive there in Paris. At this point, I had spent my last bit of change on some gin, although I quickly began to regret it once I realized my sketchbook was long gone with the ship. I had nothing to do with my hands now and all I wanted to do was draw her face before I couldn't remember ever detail of her body. The blinding color of her eyes.
God, I couldn't believe it had only been a little over a week since the world stood still once the papers flew off the press. I'm sure Mr. Imsay is kicking himself right now. He is the bastard who brought us all down after all. I'm not that kind of guy to hold grudges though. They're not worth my time. I don't like to blame people for mistakes they couldn't fully avoid. But Caledon Hockley on the other hand, I hope that bastard rots in his own filth.
It was hard to believe that even I made it out alive. I thought I was gone the moment I lost sight of Rose beneath the icy water, but I kept fighting for her. Even though I nearly died with the ship that night, I don't regret a moment of it. I don't regret winning those tickets over a game of poker and I don't regret almost getting eaten alive by those upper-class pigs more than once. I don't even regret losing all feeling in my body while treading in the Atlantic because if I wouldn't have met her if none of it had happened.
Call me pathetic, but I was in love the moment I laid eyes on her red hair and pale complexion. I only knew her for three days and I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. She was such a trapped spirit. She had so much potential, but everything, including those silly death traps called corsets, held her back. What I would give to see her face again. I nearly gave my own life for her to be happy. I would have if they hadn't found me nearly frozen to death in the icy waters.
They pulled Rose out first after she thought I was dead. I had lost consciousness by that point, but something about the shrill of a whistle in the dead of night could wake a man out of his sleep, maybe even out of death. They pulled her out first and I felt my heart suddenly begin to beat again. She was going to be alright, I kept telling myself. She didn't need some street rat like me holding her back. Because of me, she was able to finally break free from the clutches of society. I thought I had done my job. But even if God had planned for me to die in the wreckage that night, something in me wouldn't let it happen. Even though I wanted her to live on without me, I wasn't going to let it happen.
I tried to make as much noise as my frozen limbs would let me since my throat was so dry and coarse, I couldn't speak a word. But I splashed around as much as I could and they finally noticed me, but my Rose didn't. Her mind was long gone. She was already looking towards the future, wondering what her next move was once she reached the Carpathia.
I felt so ashamed I couldn't find her while we were on deck. I searched every room and deck, but I couldn't find her. I even thought she might have been taken to a different ship. When I first asked if Rose DeWitt Bukater was on the list of survivors, they said there was no one by the name of DeWitt Bukater other than Rose's mother, Ruth. I felt my heart sink. Where could she possibly be? She had to be on this ship somewhere, and I couldn't go to her mother with questions. She would find some way to keep Rose from me. I thought about talking to Mrs. Molly Brown, but I felt like it was too risky to be getting involved with the upper-class, even if Molly had been so kind to me while we were on deck.
It wasn't until the next day, after we had reached New York Harbor, when I checked the list again for myself (I resisted the urge to cross off Hockley's name from the list) when I found my own name and right below it was another Dawson. Rose Dawson. I couldn't believe my eyes. I felt myself choke up a bit and I had to force back the tears of happiness. I couldn't believe it was possible to love her as much as I did, and her new name proved that she loved me back just as much. But as much as I loved her, I could have screamed at her for not checking the list one more time. I was right there, right above her just waiting for her to find me.
A week later and I'm still in the same pub I first found myself in once stepped on dry land. If you had been on a ship for three days, watched the ship sink before your eyes, almost froze to death, and lost the love of your life, you too would need a drink of gin.
Sometimes, I found myself subconsciously drawing her face on a napkin while sitting at the bar. The first time the bartender caught me doing this, he told me I could sell my drawing for a dime a piece to make some quick cash. The second time, he asked who she was. At first I didn't know what to say, but even after I thought about it for a second, the only thing I could say was that she was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I even promised him that I would find her again. Although, he made a point of pointing out that I wasn't going to find her sitting around in a pub, waiting for her rich ass to show up. But I didn't know where to start looking. I wanted to go knocking on every rich looking house I came across looking for her, but I started to lose my motivation after every door I knocked on was slammed in my face. I guess people didn't care about true love.
A soft rain began to fall as I finally lit the cigarette I had kept between my lips. The smoke immediately calmed my nerves, but I knew that no matter how many cigarettes I smoked, it would never bring me closer to finding her. I let out a sigh and pulled myself off the concrete stairs. Come the morning, I would start searching again. Find a job or run some errands to make a few bucks and sketch a few pictures asking if anyone as seen this girl. By the end of the week, I would find her and she would finally warm my still frozen heart again. And by the end of the month, we would be married if I played my cards right. Because I had played them right once before when first won the tickets to the Titanic, I knew I could play them right again.
April 17th, 1912
Rose
I realized there was no point in crying. Crying wouldn't bring my Jack back. Nothing could bring him back. I had cried so much that I must have dried myself out like a prune. I sat alone on the pier watching the ships come in while the afternoon sun hung directly above me. I still wore Cal's jacket, the torn dress that had once been soaked with frozen seawater, and a scarf tied around my head to cover my red hair. The "Heart of the Ocean" felt like a thousand ton brick in my pocket, but I couldn't bring myself to cash it in. I would either get a fair sum of money for it to start my life over, or I would draw them a direct link to where I was. I wasn't ready to take my chances just yet.
I had been in New York for two days now and I still hadn't found a place to go, nor had I even begun to think of place I could go. Time seemed to stand still since Jack was all I could think about. I thought that if I left the pier and walked around the city for a bit, my thoughts of Jack would cease enough for me to think. But I quickly realized that I didn't matter where I went, he was all I would think of. I thought of his striking blue eyes and his childish grin that made everything feel so real. I even thought of the way he touched me and how I would give anything to get those moments back. I thought of his positive attitude and began to wonder why it was always those who had so little were the ones who loved life the most.
But when I wasn't thinking about Jack and his positive outlook on life, I was thinking of the person he allowed me to become. He says that I saved myself, but I know it was him who saved me. I was no longer Rose DeWitt Bukater, the rich helpless girl from Philadelphia who had nearly died while on the Titanic, but rather Rose Dawson, the independent, tobacco chewing, spitting champion, refused-to-ride-side-saddle woman. I wouldn't have become anything if it hadn't been for Jack giving me the final push that I needed to break free. I thank God that it was Jack who pulled me up from the side of the ship. If it had been anyone else, I like to think I would have jumped and let myself drown in the icy sea. I would have been better off dead if it hadn't been for Jack.
But no matter how happy I was as a completely transformed woman (despite the constant heartache of losing Jack), I no longer had a name of wealth so no one wanted who they saw as a "widowed nobody" living with them. I couldn't go home to Mother no matter how homeless I was. She would immediately force me back into a corset and dragged me to more fancy dinner parties as she searched for a suitable husband. Or even worse, she would drag me back to Cal. Like I didn't have a suitable husband already, I kept telling myself, but that beautiful lie wasn't a reality at all. I was never married to Jack, nor would I ever be. I was completely alone.
I had never felt more alive in my entire life than I had during those few days I spent on the Titanic. While we sailed on the high seas, I felt completely invincible. I felt that nothing could stop me from being who I really was. If I wasn't for Titanic, I would never have found out who I really was. I was Rose Dawson whether the rest of society liked it or not. I didn't belong at those fancy dinner parties and I didn't belong to any man who didn't love me. I was going to live my life the way I would have with Jack. Jack would always be who I would live for. But even if I did have this perfect life in mind for myself, I didn't know where to begin.
Jack told me to make every day count, but it seemed all too impossible if you didn't know where to go. But then again, that was how Jack lived his life. He never knew where he was going and things always turned out in his favor.
I watched the tide rise and fall on the sand of the beaches below and on the ships anchored in the harbor. It wasn't until the sun began to set and Lady Liberty looked as if she was settling down for the evening herself when a name other than Jack's rang in my head. Molly Brown. She had slipped me her temporary address before she was swallowed by the Big City.
I wasn't ashamed to admit that I felt that Molly could have been more of a mother to me in those few short days then my own mother ever had been. And I knew that if I talked to her, she wouldn't rat me out to my mother or Cal. She would keep me safe until I figured out where I was going. I felt for the slip of paper in my pocket where it sat weighed down by the "Heart of the Ocean". The necklace was a reminder of what I needed to do. For Jack. I took a deep breath and left my bench for the closest phone booth.
A/N: I don't know how long this fic is going to be, but I'll be switching between Jack and Rose's POV. Hopefully you enjoyed. More will be up soon enough (hopefully).