What Hurts The Most
Disclaimer: I don't own Titanic, Rose, Jack, or Cal. I would want to own Jack, though...tee hee hee...Anywho's I wouldn't want to own Cal. -Shudders- I don't own the title, since it's used by Rascal Flatts. I only own Sarah and this sorry excuse for a plot line.
A/N: Okay, this is my first fanfic. Please be nice! I will gladly accept constructive criticism and ideas for future chapters. I know this first chapter is a little boring (aren't they all?) So, with that being said, here's your first chapter, kiddies!
Caledon Hockley looked around the St. Katherine's Orphanage. He saw all the children running around, dressed in ratty clothes. A child with blonde, curly hair ran past his feet, squealing as another child chased her.
The orphanage was obviously too cramped for all of these small children. The wooden floors were run down and not the dark brown that they could have been. The stairs looked even worse. He imagined that they were musty and probably starting to mold.
A painting of a boy fishing in a boat hung by the stairs. A boy hunched over at the foot of the stairs, about fourteen years old, looked up at Cal. Cal realized that this boy bore a strong resemblance to Jack Dawson.
God, no, not back to the Titanic again, Cal thought. He wanted to forget everything on that happened on that voyage. How his beautiful fiancee who he loved, Rose DeWitt Bukater, left him for Jack Dawson. He thought about her everyday, her fine, porcelain-doll like features. Her fiery red hair, dark blue eyes, fair skin and full red lips. She was as beautiful as they came in his mind. No one could be more beautiful than Rose. But what if they had waited just one day later to go onto Titanic? Would she have been Rose Hockley?
Yes, he thought. She would. We'd be living here in New York together. We'd have been married. She would have been mine.
But no, that little bastard named Jack Dawson had to ruin everything for them. Well, more precisely, he had to ruin everything for Cal. All Cal got out of the deal was a naked drawing of Rose and an empty heart.
Were they still alive? Cal could have sworn that he saw Rose get out of the boat when they arrived that night in New York a few months ago. He half thought he was delusional, but he thought he really did see her.
Cal had to remind himself why he was here. That's right, he was here to adopt a child. Preferably a little girl. Since Rose was no longer with him (and he knew he was never going to find another woman), he thought he could at least adopt a child and help it. Maybe, if he was lucky, she would bloom into another Rose.
Cal walked down the hallway and knocked on the door that said "Sister Amy". He waited for a few moments until a nun with slightly wrinkled skin opened the door. She seemed to be about forty years old. Red roots poked out subtly of her black hat. Clear blue eyes scanned him over.
"Can I help you?" the woman asked.
"I'm Cal Hockley. Are you Sister Amy?" Cal asked.
"Yes I am. Oh wait, we've been exchanging letters, haven't we?"
"Yes we have," he said smoothly.
Sister Amy smiled and stepped aside. "Come in! It's so nice to finally meet you in person!"
Cal walked into her office. It was a little stuffy. The walls were a dirty yellow, papers scattered on Sister Amy's desk they were blown there by the wind. He sat down in a wooden chair on one side of her desk.
"I'm so glad you've considered adoption, Mr. Hockley," Sister Amy said. She sat across from him and crossed her legs.
Cal smiled. "Oh...I just think it's good to help someone. You know, give them a head start on life."
Sister Amy smiled. "Well...that's very generous of you."
I know, Cal thought.
"Can I get you anything to drink? Tea?" she asked.
"No, no, that's alright. I'd just like to get started on the adoption as soon as we can."
Sister Amy got up from her chair, walked over to a cabinet, and looked for a folder with Cal's name on it. She sat back down and opened it, scanning the letters that Cal had sent her over the past few months.
"It says here that you want a little girl, Mr. Hockley," she said.
"Yes, if at all possible. Daddy's little girl, you know."
Sister Amy smiled, almost as if she was remembering that she was Daddy's little girl. "Do you have a specific age group that you'd like to look into?"
Cal paused, then said, "The younger the better. Maybe under one year, if possible?"
She nodded, then stood up. "If you could follow me upstairs, I'll show you our little ones."
He left the office, following Sister Amy. The boy that looked like Jack Dawson was still hunched by the stairs. Cal felt like hitting him, even though he knew that wasn't the real Jack.
Still serves him right though, he thought. Jack steals Rose...MY Rose...I hope he died when the Titanic sank. He deserved it.
They went up the stairs, then down a long hallway. Cal saw more younger children playing with wooden toys in their bedrooms. He saw the older children reading and talking to each other.
At the end of the hallway was a room of cribs. Babies were laying down. He walked into the room. It was painted light green. A relaxing color for babies, he guessed.
"Well, here we are. These are our youngest," Sister Amy whispered. "Go ahead and have a look."
Cal looked at the first one. It couldn't have been older than four months. A tuft of blonde hair came out of it's pale head. He smiled softly and looked at the others. He was starting to go soft and actually care for something. He actually thought they were...cute.
He peered over at a baby who was about five months old. Brown hair spouted from it's head. It was sleeping on it's back, hands curled up into little fists. It had a glowing, cherubic face that he thought only it could possess.
He must have been looking at the baby for a long time, because Sister Amy came up and started telling him about it.
"This is Sarah," she whispered.
He grinned. "She's adorable." He looked at her longer. "What else do you know about Sarah?"
She walked to the foot of Sarah's crib and pulled out a few sheets of paper hanging from it. Cal realized that all the cribs had information attached to it.
She handed the folder to Cal. He opened it and looked at the information on the baby in front of him.
He found out that her parents were originally from England, but had to give her up because they couldn't afford her to take care of her when they came to America. Both parents lived in Brooklyn. He found out that her mother was a seamstress and her father made machine parts for miscellaneous things.
He skimmed through most of it until Cal found her birthday: April 15th, 1912. That was the same day that the Titanic sunk, that his only chance of surviving was taking some random child with him and pretending that it was his.
Ironic, he thought.
"You wouldn't happen to know when Sarah was born, would you?" Cal asked Sister Amy.
She looked at the papers, then flipped to the other page with her birth certificate. "2:20 AM."
2:20. The same exact time that the ship went down. A chill went down his spine. This was obviously an omen to get Sarah.
"This is the one," Cal said decisively.
Sister Amy raised her thin, red eyebrows. "Really? So quick?"
"Yes. Sarah is the little girl for me, I believe."
She smiled, then walked out of the room, passing another nun. "Sister Mary, could you please get Sarah ready to be taken away? Mr. Hockley is ready to adopt her."
The woman known as Sister Mary nodded, then went into the room with Sarah. Sister Amy and Cal walked back downstairs to sign the adoption papers.
"Would you like to get your wife, sir? I'll be glad to just wait. She does have sign the papers after all," Sister Amy said.
"Actually...my wife couldn't be here today," Cal said.
"We can wait for another day. You are married, right?" she asked.
"Well...I was. My wife passed away a few years ago," he said softly, eyes diverted to the floor. Cal was a good liar, and he damn well knew it. He could get anything with the way he lied. And that now included Sarah.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Mr. Hockley," Sister Amy said.
Cal shook his head nonchalantly. "Don't worry. She's in a better place."
Like the arms of Jack Dawson are better than the arms of mine, he thought bitterly.
She was quiet after Cal had spoken. She pulled out the adoption papers and handed him a pen. "You can sign that. Just skip your wife's part."
Cal skimmed through the papers and started signing. The silence between them grew more and more loud.
"If you don't mind me asking...what was your wife's name?" Sister Amy asked.
"Rose," he said softly. "Died of a fever. God rest her soul."
He could see it in her eyes that she felt sorry for him and to ever have brought anything up. He knew he was a great actor. He inwardly have himself a pat on the back.
"Well, sir, here she is. Little Sarah Hockley," Sister Amy said, after the papers were all signed.
Cal took Sarah into his arms. Those big brown eyes held all of the potential in the world. She knew he would look just like him. She'd grow up to be the most beautiful girl in all of Brooklyn, maybe in all of New York.
Sarah's eyes met his. Even though there was no blood relation, their eyes were the exact same color. Her glowing skin made her look like an angel.
She's my angel.
R/R! It's only polite!