Paint Me A Brimingham, a titanic fanfic

A/N: I do not own Titanic or Paint Me A Birmingham by Tracey Lawerence... Also I'm not out of retirement.. I just got inspired.

Jack Dawson had absolutely nothing to do today, not that that was anything new for him, but today was a very special and sad day all wrapped up in one. Today was the fourth anneversary of the Titanic , the day that his Rose told him she loved him and the day that he lost his Rose to the freezing ocean.

So he decided he pay hommage to the love of his life. Since he couldn't go to the actual Atlantic ocean, seeing as he now lived in Santa Monica, he took himself down to the pier. He had planned to rent a horse for the day, little did he know Fate had other plans.

He was sittin' there, his brush in hand
Paintin' waves as they danced, upon the sand
With every stroke, he brought to life
The deep blue of the ocean, against the mornin' sky

"That's real good work there," Jack said as he came across a man stationed at a bench on the board walk painting the ocean waves as they rolled in and lapped against the sand.

"Oh, thanks, boyo. I never did get to see the ocean much back 'ome," the man said as he turned to look at Jack. Between the red hair and the slightly faded accent it was obvious to Jack this man had been born and raised in Ireland.

"I wish I could paint like that. I used to draw, just haven't had the heart lately," Jack said watching the man. He rembered all to well the last time he drew, the subject of his drawing was forever etched in his mind.

"That's a damn shame."

I asked him if he only painted ocean scenes
He said for twenty dollars, I'll paint you anything

"Do you only paint ocean scenes?" Jack asked. He'd suddenly thought of a perfect way to honor his Rose and also garuntee that he never forgot her for one second.

"Say, for about five dollars, I'll paint ye anything ye want." the man said as he carefully removed his finished picture from the easel and set it on the ground next to Jack's feet.

Could you Paint Me A Birmingham
Make it look just the way I planned
A little house on the edge of town
Porch goin' all the way around
Put her there in the front yard swing
Cotton dress make it, early spring
For a while she'll be, mine again
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham

"Could you paint me a white farmhouse? With one of those porches that go all the way around? " Jack asked.

"That don't seem like much.. You want anymore details?"

"Maybe you could add a woman with red hair in a front yard swing? Could you make it look like late April?" Jack knew how desperate he sounded, but if it meant having Rose back for a while, he didn't mind.

He looked at me, with knowing eyes
Then took a canvas from a bag there by his side
Picked up a brush, and said to me
Son just where in this picture would you like to be
I said if there's any way you can
Could you paint me back into her arms again.

"Boyo, where would you like me to paint yerself?" the man asked as he reached into his bag and pulled out a blank canvas, all the while shooting Jack one of those looks that seemed to say he knew exactly what he was going through.

"If ya could I'd greatly appreciate it if you could put me... in her arms?" Jack asked letting the last part come out in whisper. He wasn't embarrssed, just sad. "It's been four years since I've seen her. God, what I wouldn't give..." he added in his mind.

"Sure, Son." the man offered a small smile.

The two men didn't say anything to each other for what seemed like an eternity.

"Anything in particular you want her to be wearing?" the old man asked breaking the comfortable silence.

"Could you paint her in a white sundress?" she said she loved the informality of them.

"You got it,"

Paint Me A Birmingham
Make it look just the way I planned
A little house on the edge of town
Porch goin' all the way around
Put her there in the front yard swing
Cotton dress make it, early spring
For a while she'll be, mine again
If you can Paint Me A Birmingham

The man finished the painting and handed it over to Jack to inspect the final product.

"Thank you, sir. I don't think you understand how much this painting means," Jack stated pulling his last five dollars out of his pocket and handing them to the man.

"You keep the money. I don' need it. I hope you find what you're looking for, kiddo," the man said as he packed up his bag.

With that, Jack headed back to his apartment so he could sleep before having to get up early to work at a local butcher shop in the morning.

He had just unlocked his front door and set the painting on a table just inside the door when he heard a pericing sheirk from the street. He turned to see a little girl, no older than three, standing in the middle of the street with a car racing toward her.

Before Jack even knew what he was doing he darted out across the road, scooped the little girl up in his arms and made it safely across the street as the car went on about it's way. He was vaguely aware of the mother yelling "Oh my god, Josephine!" in the background. He had just a few seconds to examine the girl and think "God, this girl looks so familar," before the woman headed his way.

"Thank you!! You saved my baby! She means the world to me," the woman sounded distant to Jack because all he could think about was why the little girl seemed so familar. "It's like I should know her. I've held her for all of five seconds and I already feel like a father to her... the age is all wrong for her to be Cora, right?"

"Jack Dawson!!" the woman yelled and Jack looked up to see his Rose standing not two feet away.

"Rose? Is that you?" Jack asked waiting for himself to wake up to the sound of his alarm blaring as was the norm when he finally got to this part of his dream.

"Yes, it's me. Now will you put down your daughter so I can tackle you without hurting Josephine?" she asked impaiently.

"My what now?"

Oh Paint Me A Birmingham