Part 1
Rose
Rose didn't remember being plucked from the water, or the hours (three she was told) she spent waiting half frozen in the lifeboat. She only remembered waking, ice cold still, upon the decks of the Carpathia. And she was alone.
A week ago she would have revelled in this. She was no one, she was free. But now she felt heavy and empty and like perhaps there had been a mistake and she was meant to drown. She drank the brandy without wincing and ate the bread offered to her and spoke to no one.
When the ship docked, some reality crept in. She wasn't the only survivor of the great ship to find themselves suddenly alone in New York City, destitute, widowed, orphaned. Crowds of people had arrived to help the survivors, or perhaps to look for someone they had lost. Rose avoided them, avoided everyone, just wanting to get far far away from the harbor.
While Rose had always had a romantic inclination towards a penniless existence, she wasn't really sure where to begin or what that looked like. She thought of Jack, drifting from place to place, not a care in the world. Would she ever truly be that free? They could have had that together, but she didn't dare to think of that now.
She stuck her hand in the heavy black coat for the hundredth time that day. Her fingers closed around the diamond, and brushed the stack of bills beside it. She didn't want to spend hismoney on anything. But then, she didn't want to sleep on the streets.
For hours she wandered the city unsure of her future, too numb and tired to really let any of the sadness creep in. Night fell and she found herself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Her legs felt strange and the solid ground beneath her still felt alien.
On a whim, she entered a dimly lit bar and tried to sound confident as she ordered a beer. There were men and women here who looked like the kind of people Jack would befriend, the kind of people Jack would know how to talk to ( though who couldn't Jack talk to for that matter.).
It was strange to think that people still sat and smiled and drank beer and spoke about cheerful things. That people still could fall in love and still hold hands and whisper secrets to each other in the dark. Some did speak of the Titanic, but as if it was far away, a fantasy. No more real than heaven or hell. They were safe, dry, alive. She felt her throat closing.
She rented a room upstairs using Cal's money. It didn't look like much, but even if it had, she wouldn't have noticed. She had refused the clothes offered to them on the Carpathia and therefore was still wearing her blue dress. It smelled like salt water.
She stared out the window of her room as the city lights twinkled on and off. She was only seventeen but felt like she was one hundred. How could she be reborn so old? It struck her then, surviving, hard as it had been, was really the easy part. Now she had to live.