Usual Legal Mumbo-Jumbo:
Alright! We all know the drill, so there's no need to go into a great deal of detail here. After all, disclaimers such as this are the literary equivalent of a speed bump at the end of your driveway. So let's just get through this quick and clean, and then move on to the reason that we're all really here.
Titanic is the sole property of James Cameron, Paramount Pictures, 20th Century Fox, and about a half-dozen or so other production studios who managed to snag a piece of that action back in the late nineties. I personally don't own squat, so if you're ticked off and looking to sue, good luck, 'cause you can't get blood from a turnip. I hope you hire an expensive lawyer and run up a huge legal bill, dip wad! (Gawd, being broke can be so liberating!)
Beyond that, anything not found in the movie or on the ocean floor could be construed as mine, I suppose. Although I'm sure there's some legal-eagle out there somewhere who would relish the opportunity to argue otherwise.
In short, the movie belongs to Jimmy Cameron, the profits belong to the studios, the Titanic belongs to the ages, this software belongs to Bill Gates, my kidneys belong to my bookie, and all your base belong to us!
Onward and upward…
~ Chapter One ~
Fire & Ice
It was late… Beyond late… Past the hour when the respectable people of sense and society had long since retired for the evening, leaving the shadows and crevices of the night to the disreputable denizens of darkness. Carpeted corridors that by day's shining light served as conduits for the cream of society's crop now stood eerie and empty, void of vibrancy of life that defined them. The cheerful chattering of ladies' gossip and businessmen's boasts was replaced by the oppressive sound of silence. It was the witching hour, with people of means sleeping snug in their beds, their last valued vestiges of consciousness long since surrendered to slumber's sweet embrace.
…With one notable exception.
The ticking of the clock on the mantle resonated through her ears like a mechanical hammer, pounding out its incessant cadence as she tossed and turned beneath the lightly starched sheets. Her thoughts were a swirling tornado of turmoil, banishing all notion of sleep as her mind grappled with the overwhelming circumstances before it. What was she to do? Betray her obligations? Betray her heart?
She sat up in bed, emerald eyes staring blindly into the darkness of the posh stateroom as she momentarily abandoned the quest for sleep. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated? It had all been so certain just a few days before, hadn't it? They would sail to New York, take the train to Philadelphia, and she would be married to Cal, just as had been planned for her. Granted, it would have been a marriage of misery, but she was expecting that fact, and had come to enjoy a sort of uneasy peace with it. After all, women of her station had been living with such arranged marriages for generations. Her mother and grandmother before her had endured such an existence. There was no reason that she wouldn't endure as well.
…And then she had met him, and everything had been turned so wonderfully upside-down.
Meeting Jack had opened her eyes to so many things. She now understood that there was far more to life than cotillions and high teas and the rules and restrictions of so-called society. She understood that life was for living: Not for the ambitions of others, or for the expectations of one's social class, but for one's self. There was a world beyond the servants and corsets and idle gossip and self-obsession that so defined her current existence: A world that was far wider and brighter than anything she ever dared imagine, and she wanted to be a part of it.
But alas, she could not… because of the other thing that meeting Jack had made her realize.
For she now recognized the truth of her existence: That her pampered life of privilege was in fact a great gilded cage, locking her away from the life she truly desired. All around her was beauty and the beckoning call of freedom, so tantalizingly close that she could almost taste them. And yet they remained just beyond her grasp. Her world was a prison, beautiful and bejeweled, but a prison nonetheless, and it was slowly strangling the life from her.
"They've got you in a glass jar like some butterfly, and you'll die if you don't break out." He had told her that afternoon in the gymnasium. "Maybe not right away, 'cause you're strong. But sooner or later the fire in you is gonna to go out."
But was she really? Was she as strong as he seemed to think she was? Did she have it in her to break away from everything she had ever known and strike out on her own? Did she have what it would take to blaze her own trail in life… to forge her own future? Jack may have seemed certain, but in her own mind she remained thoroughly unconvinced.
And what about her mother? For the sake of all honesty, Ruth's financial worries were well founded. Her late father had indeed left their family deeply in debt, the fiscal realities of which were becoming harder and harder to conceal. The danger of falling from the graces of high society was a very real one, and from their position it would be a very long fall indeed. It was a prospect that held her mother completely terrified, and even from her own relatively isolated position, the sense of dread and despair was nearly palpable.
Taken all together, it was just too much to deal with. So many questions… So many considerations… And no matter which path she chose, it seemed that someone close to her would wind up being irreparably hurt in the process. Her position was untenable, but it was still hers, and sleep or not, the coming of the dawn would not itself bring the change she so desperately craved.
She needed more information, she finally concluded after several agonizing minutes of sitting alone in the darkness. She needed something else to go on: A fact or circumstance whose weight would tip the scales of determination in one direction or the other. A "deciding factor" was what she required.
Returning her crimson locks to the pillow, she beckoned sleep once more, somewhat reassured by the plan that she had made. It may not have been the decision that she desired, but at least a path to that decision was now clear: Following the morning's breakfast she would go below decks and spend the day with Jack, or at least as much of the day as she possibly could. Then, after a full day of having experienced his world in all its unrefined glory, she would decide. It would be a momentous decision… one apt to irrevocably alter the course of her entire life. But it was nonetheless necessary, and she alone would be the one to make it.
…One way or another.
The faint glow was all but invisible as it slipped a few ethereal tendrils beneath the wooden door and into the corridor beyond. Even if a passer-by had been present to see it, the chances of such an observation being made were miniscule within the confines of the brightly lit passage whose white walls and planked floor banished all other forms of illumination from their midst.
But within the darkened pantry room, the story was very different. The ghostly glow filled the cramped space, reflecting off the polished copper cylinder of the freshwater cistern and bathing the pine-fronted cabinets with its eerie blue hue. In the corner, the lone occupant of the room sat huddled on a pile of soiled linens, staring intently at the source of the glow, his attention seemingly transfixed by the flickering aura before him.
Suddenly, a faint knocking on the door startled his concentration, causing him to nearly drop the object of his attention. Cursing to himself, he reluctantly turned his gaze too the door and wondered who this unwelcome intruder could possibly be.
He didn't need to wait long to find out.
"Hey now, Jackie. Are ye in there, laddie?" A familiar voice called out from the far side of the door.
"Right here, Tommy." He sighed in annoyance. "C'mon in. It's open."
The door swung open to admit the owner of the thick Scottish accent, momentarily flooding the small space with light, forcing him to squint and shield his eyes. Somewhat mercifully, Tommy closed the door behind him, plunging the closet-like room into darkness once more.
"Fer' the love of Saint Andrews laddie, what th' 'ell are ye doin' sittin' 'ere in the dark?" he asked perplexedly, noting what had become a regular facet of his companion's strange behavior as of late.
Jack responded with an annoyed grunt.
"There's nobody here but us right now, you know." He pointedly observed. "You can drop the whole Highlander shtick."
There was a long pause as both young men considered this statement.
"Alright, fair 'nuff." Tommy shrugged, crossing his arms and leaning up against the door. "But my question still stands. What the heck are you doing in here? Have you volunteered to be a pillowcase or something?" He gestured to the pile beneath his friend.
"I was just checking on a few things." Jack grumbled in response, turning his attention back to the device in his hands.
"Uh-huh. Just like you've been 'checking' on things almost every night since we left Southampton." Tommy observed with growing irritation. "Do you even know how big of a risk you're taking with this little obsession?" he asked. "Granted, I appreciate the fact that you've at least got the good sense to sequester yourself. But this door doesn't even have a working lock. Someone could waltz right in at any moment. Do you realize what it would mean if that were to happen?"
"Listen, it's no big deal!" Jack defensively responded.
"No! You listen, Jackie!" Tommy shot back, stepping forward and snatching the object of Jack's attention from his hands. "Do you understand what this thing is?"
Jack looked at Tommy as though he had just asked him what color an orange is.
"It's an iPhone… Obviously!" he sighed in exasperation.
"It's a machine with no moving parts!" Tommy corrected. "Now I think we should both pause to let that little fact sink in for a moment, because according the understanding of the universe that these people have, this is supposed to be a physical impossibility. It's something that cannot exist, according to their comprehension of reality. They've got no concept of what a transistor even is, let alone an integrated circuit. They're just now getting used to vacuum tubes, for cryin' out loud! Heck, it was only fifteen years ago that they even discovered the electron! Now can you even begin to imagine the collective freak-out we'd see if this sort of technology were to be suddenly dropped in their laps? To us it may only be a child's plaything, but to them it's a one-way trip straight through the looking glass!"
"Yeah, I know! I know!" Jack relented, throwing his hands up in resignation. "I get what you're sayin'. It's just that… well… Things are kinda complicated right now."
"Well enlighten me then." Tommy begged, leaning back against the door once more and spreading his arms wide in askance. "Lay your problems at the feet of the master."
Jack sighed heavily. He was reluctant to be sharing such information with anyone, but given the corner he was in, (both literally and figuratively), he didn't seem to have much choice.
"It all started the other night when I was looking at pictures of shoes." He began to explain.
"Wondering what to wear the prince's ball, Cinderella?" Tommy smirked.
"Oh, that's not what I mean and you know it!" Jack shot back. "It's when they find shoes on the bottom…"
"Yeah, yeah… I know the story." Tommy waved off the explanation, leaning forward to glance at the screen in his hand. "When a body decomposes at depth, the tannic acid in leather acts as a preservative, so after a while the only thing left to mark the spot is the shoes and the belt and stuff like that. It's poignant, but it's hardly a reason to go all Imelda Marcos on us." He looked down at the digital device and studied the image with curiosity.
"Or Liz Taylor, for that matter." He added with a raised eyebrow. "Although I gotta admit, this is a rather impressive piece of ice you've got here. Say, what do you suppose a rock like that goes for in this day and age?"
"Gimme that!" Jack snapped, lashing out and grabbing the phone back from Tommy. "And at the risk of seeming rude, why don't we both agree to just stop talking about this and leave it alone, huh?" Jack shot back defensively. "Think we can do that?"
"I'd love to Jackie, but there're bigger issues at stake here." Tommy sighed, gingerly massaging the bridge of his nose. "And just for the sake of making sure we're all on the same page, this wouldn't have anything to do with that upper-deck gal you met Wednesday night, would it?"
Jack's downcast grimace was all the answer Tommy needed. He sighed and crossed his arms, leaning back against the door as he contemplated how many times in the past he'd seen this very same movie play out. It was always the same script, he'd learned over the years, and it never seemed to have a happy ending.
"You knew the risks of this mission when you accepted it, Jack." He softly offered after several moments of silence. "They told us about it during the briefings… The dangers of becoming emotionally involved in the subject."
"Yeah, I know." Jack forlornly sighed. "And I really thought I was ready for all that. But then I met her, and well… Things just sort of happened to happen."
"It's a chance we all take, doing this sort of work." Tommy also sighed, staring philosophically at the ceiling. "It's a strange experience, walking amongst ghosts like this. Knowing the numbers… knowing what's about to happen. But in the end, the mission has to come first. We're not here to change history… At least not without a damn good reason. Our job is to simply learn the finer details of the story and all the other stuff that the history books have left out. We observe, document, report, and get the hell out of Dodge when it all hits the fan."
"Thanks, Tommy. I appreciate the sentiment. I really do." Jack admitted with a shake of his head. "But I hope you'll understand when I say that it really doesn't make me feel any better."
"No, I suppose it wouldn't." Tommy shrugged, regaining his feet and turning toward the door. "But that's the reality we all face, whether we like it or not. We're only observers in this world. Not participants."
"Thanks just the same though."
"Don't mention it." Tommy grinned through the shadows between them. "You can take a few more minutes if you want, but try not to be too long. I meant what I said about someone walking in."
"Don't worry. I gotcha." Jack smiled in return. "I'll be done in a sec."
With a final glance, Tommy opened the door once again and with a quick check in either direction, stepped out into the light. Closing things securely behind him, he left his friend alone in the dark with his thoughts once more, his only companion a technological marvel that did not yet exist.
Racing up the cast-iron helix of the firemen's staircase and bursting through the hatchway onto the forward well deck, they laughed as though their mirth would never stop. The thrill of posing for his drawing… of being chased through the ship by Lovejoy… of seeing the shocked faces of the firemen and trimmers as they raced through the boiler rooms… of giving themselves to each other in the back of that sedan… of only narrowly escaping discovery in such a compromising position… of finally emerging into the fresh and frigid night air once more… It was all so invigorating. Even intoxicating, one might say. It set their spines to tingling and left both of them feeling more alive in this one moment than either thought they had ever been before. Instinctively, they found their way into each other's arms, breathing in the sumptuous mixture of salt air and each other's scent. This was truly living life in the moment, and they each silently prayed that this particular moment would never end.
"When this ship docks, I'm getting off with you." Rose managed to say when she finally caught her breath.
Jack simply looked down at her with a grin that was part euphoria and part amazement.
"This is crazy." He flatly stated, the steam of their collective breath forming a gossamer halo around them.
"I know." She replied. "It doesn't make any sense. That's why I trust it."
It was then that she noticed a faint change in his smile. It was something that would have perhaps gone unnoticed under any other circumstance, but in the dim starlight she could tell that it was there. A certain sense of reluctant apprehension had found its way into his eyes, and its sudden appearance chilled her more than the freezing air ever could. Silently, she began to sense that the man she had so recently and readily given her heart to might not be all that he seemed.
"Jack! What's wrong?" she asked apprehensively, almost dreading what the answer would be.
"It's nothing, really." He hemmed in a most unconvincing manner. "It's just that, well… there's this thing, and… ummm…"
"Jack?" she looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Whatever it is, please tell me. I can handle the truth, but I can't handle you keeping something from me."
The sudden shift in her lover's mood was nothing short of nerve-wracking, and his reluctance to divulge any reason for this was shaking her to her very core. What sorts of dark secrets could he be hiding? Was there another woman? Was he a thief? A wanted criminal on the run from justice? Was she simply a mark to him? A patsy? A mere tool for him to use and then toss aside once she had served his purpose? How could a man who seemed so warm and genuine be so cold and cruel?
And why did he keep casting those apprehensive glances toward the bow?
"I only wish it was that simple, Rose." Jack finally sighed, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. It was a detail that did not go unnoticed, and it sent her already inflated fears into overdrive. Her gaze dropped as her very soul seemed to assume the worst.
"Who is she?" Rose softly asked, staring blindly down at the deck.
"What?" Jack asked, surprise evident in his voice.
"Just tell me her name!" She shouted, raising her eyes to meet his as she desperately blinked back tears, not wanting to believe the conclusions that her mind was currently forming.
"No! No, no, no… It's nothing like that!" Jack exaggeratedly waved her off. Of all the conclusions the she could have jumped to under the circumstances, that was the last one he would have anticipated.
"Then what is it like, Jack?" she demanded, her voice growing more shrill and frantic by the second. Her structured and stoic upbringing had taught her how to cope with many an unpleasant circumstance, but her own Jack keeping secrets from her was something that she simply couldn't deal with.
"It's just that… well…" His gaze fell, his shoulders slumped, and he released a heavy breath through pursed lips: The sure sign of a man who knew he was beaten.
"It was supposed to be a simple assignment, you know." He sighed in resignation. "Just watch and learn and leave at the appropriate time… Straightforward and easy-peazy. But then lo and behold one night I decide to go up on deck for a smoke, and you come along, and well… suddenly the whole thing gets turned sideways and it all becomes so wonderfully complicated."
"Well that's certainly good to know." Rose panned with an accusatory glare. "Now would the kind sir from the state of confusion mind skipping ahead to the part where he makes sense?"
"I'm not supposed to be here, all right?" he blurted out in frustration, relieved to have finally released such a weight from his chest, and yet at the same time terrified about the potential can of worms he had just opened.
When Rose's only response was unflinching silence, he took it as a cue to continue.
"I'm not like you, Rose." He began to explain. "I'm different, and I don't mean in a social sense. I'm from a different place… different than anyone else on this ship. And I know it sounds incredible, and you'll probably think I'm insane for even saying this, but…" His mouth suddenly slammed shut as he realized that he had no idea how to explain the situation. What was he supposed to do? Come right out and announce that he was a man from the future? That he had come back in time to witness one of the greatest human tragedies in history as if it were some elaborate Vaudeville act? He might as well tell her that he was a space alien from the Andromeda Galaxy. Both assertions would be equally well received, he figured.
"Look, the details aren't really important." He quickly redirected, casting another expectant look toward the darkness beyond the forecastle deck. "Just trust me when I say that something is about to happen, and when it does, I need you to promise me something."
"Jack? What's going on?"
"Just promise me, alright? Promise me that when it happens, you won't wait. Not for me… Not for your mother or Cal… Nobody! Promise me that you'll find a boat as quick as you can, get in it, and stay there. That you'll follow the instructions of the crew and you'll stay safe. Please, just promise me that!"
"I promise." She timidly squeaked, suddenly aware of her own heart hammering away within her chest. She didn't know exactly where Jack was coming from with all of this, but it was leaving her as frightened as a little schoolgirl. He seemed to be operating from some vast and hidden knowledge about things that were yet to be, and whatever event was about to hit them loomed absolutely enormous in his assessment.
And that simple fact left her more terrified than she had ever been before.
"Good." Jack confirmed her commitment. "Now I'll be needing to get below pretty quick here, but you remember what you just promised, okay?"
"What's happening, Jack?" she begged through unshed tears. "Please tell me. Just tell me what's going to…"
Her emotional plea was abruptly interrupted by a faint sound that drew her attention skyward. It started as a low rumble, like the roll of distant thunder. But its intensity quickly grew to a crescendo of sky splitting proportions. With a great roar the source of the sound streaked unseen through the darkness overhead, leaving a dull and ground shaking rumble in its wake, detectable both by ear and by the throbbing pulse it left in the pit of one's stomach.
Dropping her awe-struck gaze from the sky, Rose turned her eyes toward Jack, just in time to see his face change... Not to an expression of curious bewilderment as one might expect, but to one of stoic resignation.
"Jack?" she asked again, her anxiety of the moment growing ever greater, if such were even possible. "What does all this mean?"
"You remember how I said that when I met you, things became wonderfully complicated?" He asked matter-of-factly, squaring his shoulders to face the bow and taking a committed step in that direction.
"Yes." Rose tentatively replied.
No sooner had the word traveled across her lips then the sea before them erupted in light. From a point dead off the bow and a mile beyond, a great roiling fireball surged upward from the glassy surface, its sun-like glow reflecting off the mirrored ocean to illuminate the frozen crags and ramparts of the massive iceberg from which it had miraculously sprung.
For all those who witnessed it, the reaction was stunned silence. Never before in all their lives had anyone laid eyes on such a sight. It was as if the sea itself were erupting in front of them, and moments later, when the massive shockwave rolled across the deck, Rose added her own startled yelp to the crack of the explosion and the tattle-tale rattling of the foremast straining against its stays.
Only Jack seemed unfazed by it all. Standing like a statue against the night air, his blowing hair and stern expression gave all the impression of a person for whom such spectacles were an everyday occurrence.
"Well it means that things just became extremely complicated." He replied, his once cheerful voice filled with nothing but the weight of determination and serious intent.
Author's Notes:
Well it looks like there's not a whole lot to discuss here. Most of this stuff is pretty self-explanatory, and the stuff that isn't is that way by design. (Hey! If I didn't keep a little mystery in this relationship you might grow bored and stop loving me!)
But before we go any further with this, it's only fair to point out that I'll be dumping a whole heaping helping of arcane and technical mumbo-jumbo in your laps with the coming chapters. Historical trivia is something of a hobby of mine, and the Titanic is a subject that holds so much fascination for so many people. So as this story progresses, and I repeatedly embrace my inner geek, I'll be using these notes to explain some of the more obscure references.
If you should find yourself in want of more information than that, then you've obviously got WAY too much free time on your hands, but you're also more than welcome to look things up on your own. It's called "Google" folks, and it's your friend!
And speaking of obscure details that nobody gives a flying rip about…
Famous Footwear: The whole thing with the shoes is a very real facet of the wreck site today, and one of the more haunting remnants of the disaster. A thorough survey of the debris field will reveal hundreds of such relics at varying distances from the wreck itself, spanning virtually all classes, genders and ages. They function as a sort of morbid reverse headstone, marking the exact spot where the body of a particular victim came to rest in the hours after the sinking. There is no way to identify the owner, or know anything about them beyond their gender, class and approximate age. The only thing that can be said for certain is that they were there, and that the point in question is their place of eternal rest.
So obviously we have something of a severe twist on the traditional tale here. Jack Dawson is in fact far more than he appears, and now his secret is out. (More or less.) How will he and his companions deal with the situation now that their cover has been effectively blown? And how will the people of Edwardian society react to the knowledge of men from the future walking among them. Let the grand-scale freak out begin!
And for those of you trying to arrange your schedules in advance, my plan is to release a new chapter for this story every three to four days. Mark your calendars!
Remember to leave a review and receive a reply: That's still the best deal you're gonna find on this site folks... or your money back!
'Till next time!
Nutzkie…
