This is my first Titanic fan-fiction, so please, don't hate too hard :) Please, please, please write reviews. I realize this bit is very short, but I still need to get some homework done ;)
And yeah, I don't own Titanic, nor do I own any of the characters within the film. Though I do, in my own mind, own Jack Dawson... As well as Leonardo DiCaprio. I have my dreams. Pipe down.
But anyway! Please, please write reviews, or favorite this, or... Or whatever the last one was! Follow! The more reviews I get, the more I'll be inspired to write. Though I'll be giving the first chapters just for free :P
Stepping off the boat, into the crowds of mourners, she looks around. The ground felt softer than England's soil. As if it is being sentimental. Her heels leave an imprint in the dirt as she continues walking down the path, up ahead to where she can see a clear platform. She relaxes her shoulders, praying that no one helps her as she makes her way over.
Rose Dawson takes cautious steps, blinking her dry eyes as she relapses back into a memory. A memory she can't help but allow to surface as she finds herself settling into a calming silence as the crowds embrace the ones who are still there for them. If they have anyone at all.
Ruth watched the crowds running around near her sides. Some would press into her and she would make a sharp comment under her breath.
Molly Brown is being kinder, helping to get a reluctant woman aboard a boat. The older woman is sobbing, latching her fingers tightly onto her husband's sleeve. Rose immediately thinks of Jack. Jack… She left him to fend on his own down there, didn't she? Is it her fault he may die now?
Blinking, she turns to look at Ruth as she speaks, "Will the lifeboats be seated according to class? I hope they're not too crowded-"
"Oh, Mother, shut up!" Rose snaps, nearly alarming herself by the tone of voice she has managed to capture through the fears. "Don't you understand? The water is freezing and there aren't enough boats… Not enough by half. Half the people on this ship are going to die."
Someone laughs bitterly into her ear and she glances to her side, her eyes landing on Cal. "Not the better half."
And the realization hit Rose harder than before, when her mother was making sharp comments on the walk here. Jack is third class. He doesn't stand a chance.
Another rocket bursts overhead, bathing her face with white light.
Rose pushes the palm of her hand onto her chest. She can remember exactly what she had said next, though she doesn't want to remember it. Any of it. Perhaps it sounds a bit too harsh, but she can't bare breaking down in front of all these people. Her eyes are stinging from crying so often on the Carpathia. She can no longer take it.
She feels a hand on her arm, someone tugging on her coat and… And saying her name. How could someone know my name? Rose DeWitt Bukater died in the sinking of the Titanic. I am Rose Dawson. His last name is all I have left of him.
"Rose. Rose, do not ignore me. You don't have that privilege, damn it." A harsh voice mumbles from behind her. It stands out quite clearly. It's Cal.
"You unimaginable bastard." Rose whispers, her voice dangerous, yet somehow very fragile and weak.
"Come on, Ruth, get in the boat. These are the first class seats right up here. That's it, come on." In seconds, Ruth has managed to climb into the boat and sit down. Molly looks around for more people before getting in herself. "Come on, Rose. You're next, darlin'." But Rose refuses. She shakes her head, taking several steps back.
Ruth gaps at her daughter, the mere stubbornness she is portraying only stunning her for a short second. Anger reaches her face as she stretches out a hand. "Rose, get in the boat!" She yells, and Molly touches Ruth's shoulder gently.
"Goodbye, mother." Rose says as Cal grabs her arm, but she pulls free and continues walking back into the crowds. Cal proceeds after her, catching her arm tighter this time. She winces, glancing down at his hand as she attempts to shake it off to no avail.
"Where are you going? To him? Is that it? To be a whore to that gutter rat?"
"I'd rather be his whore than your wife." Rose mutters and Cal clenches his jaw, squeezing on Rose's arm to pull her forward and towards him quickly. He tries to send her quickly towards the lifeboat, though it clearly has no affect.
Rose shakes her head, fighting off Cal's grip in the only way she can. Do what Jack taught her. She spits in his face. He releases his hand to deal with the momentary distraction, scrubbing at his face to remove the spit. But she's already gone. Running off to hunt down Jack. Her Jack.
She snaps back to reality as the same, familiar hand tightens on her arm. Rose bends her neck to get a better view of Cal, and directly behind him she sees Ruth DeWitt Bukater. "It… It said you died. The lists. You weren't on them, Rose."
And she can't help but smile proudly. She didn't use 'DeWitt Bukater', of course she didn't. Why would she be that stupid? She used 'Dawson', the last name of the man she loved – loves.
"Perhaps you skimmed over my name, mother. It's nice to see you again too." She drags her arm out of Cal's grip, a plan already forming in her head. She will run, run and never look back. Caledon Hockley and Ruth DeWitt Bukater will be her past. And sadly, Jack Dawson will be too.
She's nearly gone. Nearly hidden by the crowd as she starts to quickly move away from Cal and her mother. Until six words stop her in her path, force her to freeze and stare at the ground. Her body numbs, her mind goes blank. Tears slip down her cheeks.
"Where's that gutter rat of yours?"