Woah! It's been a while. Sorry I haven't been here in forever! I'm going to start writing again now that the college search is over and summer is almost here. Thank you loyal watchers!!

"To Whom it May Concern,

In your honor, the White Star Line will be holding a memorial dedication on the 15th of April. This service will honor those lost in the disaster, and honor those who risked their lives to save yours. All surviving passengers of the RMS Titanic and the crew of the RMS Carpathia are invited to attend, along with your families. Please fill out the attached RSVP slip and forward it…"

"We've received five more today."

"Alright Wilson, give 'em to me."

"Sylvia, Hockley, Dawson, Gardner, and Ballard."

"Mommy!!!"

A bundle of pink barrels through the door and buries itself in the arms of its mother.

"What, darling?"

"Look what I found! It's an arrow head."

A brown rock, caked with dirt, is produced from the pink padding. "See? See?"

"That's great, honey. Now you need to do me a favor. I need you to go upstairs, change your clothes, and gather a couple more for me to pack. We're going on a trip!"

"But there's no way this company can be run without you!"

A short man in a suit was chasing after a taller man in a suit. The short man stops short as the tall man turned abruptly.

"If you are not capable of running this business while I'm gone, then why am I keeping you here? Hmm? There's a nice spot open in the Packing Department…"

"No, sir. That's not necessary, sir. I can do it, sir. I promise, sir."

"Good. Now, I will only be gone three days. If I come back and find this factory in shambles, I will know whose ass to move to the Packing Department….or fire."

"Yes, sir."

"All of your efforts that night are greatly appreciated. Without you, I would not be here, nor would most—nay, all—of the Titanic passengers here. So, thank you."

And with that, the Titanic's officers filed off the stage. The remaining of the ballroom is released for dinner and everyone rushes to the buffet table.

"Mommy!"

"Yes, darling?"

"What's that?" she points to a plate on the table.

A man's voice answers, "That, sweetheart, is shrimp. Would you like one?"

The child gags, and then giggles. The man smiles at her.

But the mother seems disturbed. "Come along, Catherine. We're holding up the line."

She dodges the man and moves to the next table. But the man follows right behind her, cutting the obviously third-class man that moved behind the two girls.

"You know, Rose, it's been a long time. Eight years, in fact."

Rose stiffens, startled at his voice being so close again. She grabs Catherine's hand, saying "Come along, you have enough food."

But the man still pursues. "Rose, you cannot keep running. Now that I know you're alive, I will keep finding you. How many Rose and Catherine Dawson's are there, anyway? Hmm? Especially in New York."

She turns. "You bastard. And you wonder why I hate you."

Now it was the man's turn to stiffen. Was that the glimmer of tears in his eyes?

Rose sighs. "I…I don't completely hate you. But you are a bastard!"

"I—"

"Cal. Why are chasing me? It's been eight years. We're over."

"No. That night will never be over for me. Or you."

Rose plants herself right in front of Cal, close enough to smell his aftershave….just like she remembered it. "If Catherine was not here, I would slap you across the face right now, I hope you know that."

"Rose, all I want to do is talk."

"Is that so?" Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes. Rose. Trust me."

And he held out his hand.

To be continued….