Disclaimer: I don't own Titanic, or any of the characters.

Note: This takes place after "Letting Go" and after "First Impressions". It's not necessary to read them, but it's just to give you an idea of the timing. This is after Jack's death, and during Rose's new life.

…

Ship of Dreams

…

I can still smell the fresh paint. The china had never been used. The sheets had never been slept in. Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams, and it was. It really was.

But dreams were only fleeting moments when the lines between fantasy and reality were temporarily blurred beyond recognition. The Ship of Dreams had sunk, and her dreams had died with it. When Rose woke up every morning and opened her eyes, the line separating the two worlds was firmly solid.

There were rare moments though, when her dreams seemed to leak into her conscious mind, and she would see a glimpse of his tanned skin in the shadows of an empty room, or a flicker of blue in her husband's brown eyes that made her own eyes well up with tears. She had done her best to move on, and reluctantly fulfilled Jack's final wish for his sake rather than her own. She had a new name - Rose Dawson Calvert – and a new life. But she would sometimes slip up and introduce herself as Rose Dawson, or write checks from Rose Dawson, or sign letters with "Love, Rose Dawson". She never called her husband Jack, though. It would be a disgrace to his memory, something which Rose had never been able to let go, simply because our memories become a part of us, just as they had become part of Rose Dawson. Or, rather, a part of Rose Dawson Calvert. Rose wasn't sure exactly who she was without Jack.

Rose was giving her young daughter, Lizzy, a bubble bath. Ruth had never indulged Rose with such simple childhood pleasures when she had been young, and Rose wanted Lizzy to have the childhood she was deprived of- a happy one.

She was lathering Lizzy's hair with shampoo, being careful not to get any in her daughter's delicate eyes, while Lizzy played with some toys in the soapy tub. She was playing with a little plastic tugboat, and suddenly submerged the boat under the water, making loud booming noises and splashing the water where the toy was floundering in the water.

"The boat's sinking, mommy," Lizzy giggled and pointed at the tubboat, pleased with her games.

Rose stopped rinsing Lizzy's hair as she began to panic. She had never mentioned Titanic to her daughter- or even her husband. But she caught sight of the plastic toy, resting underneath the bubbly surface of the bathtub, and mechanically returned to rinsing Lizzy's hair.

"I see it, Lizzy," Rose said weakly, and when she closed her eyes, she saw the Titanic sinking, in all it's glory, to the bottom of the Atlantic.

"Help! Help!" Lizzy imitated in high pitched cries. She moved her arms as if she were drowning and burst into another fit of giggles. Rose felt like she had been stabbed in an unhealed wound, and accidentally let some shampoo seep into Lizzy's eyes.

"Ow! Mommy!" Lizzy cried, abandoning her games. Rose quickly pulled Lizzy out of the tub and wrapped her tightly with a towel. Lizzy shivered as her skin came into contact with the cold air, and said with her teeth chattering, "I'm so cold, mommy!"

And suddenly, Rose felt very cold as well as she remembered the subzero temperatures, the water around her turning into ice, freezing her in place…

"Mommy?" Lizzy asked, looking confused as her mother's eyes inexplicably filled with tears. "What's wrong? Did you get soap in your eyes too?"

Rose shook her head. "No, Lizzy," she said softly, "I didn't. Now run along and finish getting read for bed, okay?"

"Okay," Lizzy said, sounding disappointed at the prospect of going to sleep, as all children are.

Rose was left along in the bathroom, and moved to empty the bathtub. Her eyes lingered on the tugboat, which had been slowly sinking, until it finally hit the bottom of the tub. It was clearly visible now that most of the bubbles had dissolved, and Rose gingerly reached in and brought the little tugboat to the surface. Water leaked out of a tiny hole on the side that was meant to control the air pressure inside the boat, so that when children squeezed it, it would automatically re-inflate. Rose wondered incredulously why someone would purposely build a ship with a hole. She yanked the plug out of the bathtub and watched the water spiral down the drain until it was empty.

In bed, next to her husband, sleep eluded Rose yet again. Every few minutes or so, she would shift her position, until sleep took mercy on her troubled mind and released her from reality.

In her dreams that night, Rose was on the Titanic. It had not sunk yet, and was still very much afloat and in one piece. The staircases were magnificent, the carpeting was soft underneath her feet, and the sun shone brightly. She wandered out to the deck, and scanned the horizon. There was not an iceberg in sight.

"What took you so long?" a familiar voice asked.

Rose whirled around, and there was Jack- his skin tan, his eyes blue, his smile wide – just the way she had fixed him into her memory.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Rose said, "I was having a nightmare."

Titanic was called the Ship of Dreams, and it was. It really was.

End

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