This story is actually going to be a complete rewrite of my older story Hearts Will Go On. HOWEVER, while it has the same basic premise, this story will actually be nothing like HWGO. And the ending will be completely different.

If you haven't read it, disregard that!

ROSE

There are some things in life that you just can't truly recover from. Abuse. Death. Traumatic experiences. The pain never really leaves you, but you have to learn to live with it.

My father died when I was fifteen years old. He fell asleep one night and never woke up. I remember waking up to my mother shrieking for help and flying out of my bed without bothering to cover myself with a robe. I'd flown to their bedroom and found her hovering there with two of the maids, shaking my father desperately, begging him to open his eyes.

But it was too late.

Three days later, he was in the ground. My wonderful, loving, hardworking father would never sing silly songs with me again. I'd never hear him call me Red again. What I didn't know when he died was that Daddy had a secret. He was a gambler. In those days, those kinds of things were kept from the children…especially daughters. Daughters were only meant to look pretty and make good matches to further the family name.

We were a wealthy family, one of the most prominent names in Philadelphia. Old money. But, like all things, money runs out. And ours was gone, leaving us in near ruin. The house was taken and we were forced to live with my formidable great-aunt Victoria Dewitt, a sour faced woman who had probably never smiled a day in her miserable life. She wore her hair pulled back so tightly, it seemed to pull the skin of her face back and make her look almost alien. Everything I did and said displeased old Aunt Victoria. She despised my preference for reading, saying that too much knowledge can ruin a lady's disposition. She told me that my voice was not nearly sweet enough.

On my sixteenth birthday, I was introduced to Caledon Hockley. I knew who he was, of course. He was famous for three things. Being the son of one of the richest steel moguls in America, being a womanizer and being ruthless in his ambition to make more money.

There were thirteen years separating us, so I never really thought anything of him, other than he was slightly intense for my liking. There was something unsettling in his striking gray eyes that made me tend to avoid him. But, on the morning of my sixteenth birthday, I was informed by Mother that it was of the utmost importance that he take a liking to me. Being very young, I didn't realize she intended to marry me off to him. It became apparent, however, when I was put into a corset, something that I hadn't worn until that point. I wasn't a fifteen year old child anymore. I was a woman of marriageable age, and it was time for me to make an advantageous match, as my peers were wont to do.

"You must impress Mr. Hockley, Rose," Mother told me over breakfast, "He has expressed an interest in you after meeting you at the Christmas Ball last year."

"An interest in me? Why?" I'd crinkled my nose, not understanding her meaning.

"Why, Mr. Hockley is looking to wed. He's nearly thirty," She explained, sipping her morning tea.

"You mean, you intend for him to marry…me?" I cried, jumping out of the chair and wincing at how hard it was to breathe in the blasted undergarment they'd forced me into.

"Well…yes," Mother said, frowning, "To what did you think I was referring?"

"I don't know!" I exclaimed, "Yesterday, I was wearing a pinafore. Today, I'm put into this contraption and told I have to marry an old man!" Mother had laughed at this.

"An old man…oh, child…Hockley is in his prime. He's handsome. He has all of his hair. You should consider yourself fortunate," She insisted, sighing. "You know most girls aren't so lucky. Remember your friend Gertrude?" I cringed, picturing the paunchy, bald old man that she'd been married to only four months earlier. She was only six months older than I.

"But I don't love him," I'd finished lamely, pouting.

"You'd best put those foolish thoughts out of your mind," Aunt Victoria's harsh voice came from the doorway as she hobbled in, clutching her cane in her awful, talon-like fingers. "This isn't about love. It's about marriage. You have a duty, Rose. Your one purpose in this world is to make a good match. You will marry Hockley, and you will do it with a smile on your face." My mother nodded, meeting my eyes sadly.

"You must."

And so, that evening, when I was dressed in a green gown with my hair pinned at the crown of my head, I looked into the mirror and I didn't recognize the person I saw there. She was pretty, but she wasn't real. An attractive illusion…bait to lure in a buyer. It made me sick to my stomach, but I played my part and smiled at Mr. Hockley, taking his arm and allowing him to walk me into the gardens. It was unnerving the way his eyes roved over me, but I hid my discomfort and pretended that every word he said to me was the most interesting thing I'd ever heard.

But that night when I went to sleep, I wished. I wished for a handsome prince to come rescue me like in the fairytales I'd loved so much as a girl. In one day, I'd been forced to grow up and face the ugly reality of the world. It wasn't fair…especially if you had the misfortune to be born female.

We became officially engaged almost one year later, after a long courtship. It was decided that the wedding would be put off for a year and that we would travel with Cal to Europe to oversee the opening of his father's factories overseas after attending the coronation of King George. Right before my seventeenth birthday, we boarded the R.M.S. Mauretania, a grand ship that took us to Liverpool. Mother had terrible sea sickness on that trip, leaving me with ample free time, when I wasn't accompanying Cal, of course.

To his credit, Cal was not unkind to me for the most part. He was commanding, true enough, and he did not tolerate defiance. You must understand, in those times, it was not unheard of for a man to hit his wife for speaking against him or displeasing him. Cal had been raised this way, and I will maintain that somewhere in him was good. He was generous to my mother and me. He doted on me, and there were times, I even imagined that I could learn to love him genuinely and make him happy.

Of course, there are things we weren't supposed to discuss. Cal had mistresses. It was common knowledge that he kept at least three women. There was even talk that he'd gotten one of them pregnant, but it would never be brought up in polite conversation. I'd only seen Cal angry a couple of times in our courtship, but those times had taught me that he was not a man to cross. It was on that first trip that I met Cal's valet, Spicer Lovejoy, a sullen, sour gentleman who had probably never smiled in his entire life. I remember thinking that he and my Aunt Victoria would get along splendidly.

My favorite part of Europe was undoubtedly Paris. The food and wine were wonderful, but my favorite thing was the absolute love of art in any form. We attended the Paris Opera. We went to the Louvre. It seemed like there were artists on every corner, trying to sell their works. I'd always been fascinated with art, even though I was hopeless with watercolors, much to Mother's dismay. The extent of my artistic talent was my eye for finding art, not making it. I used the allowance Cal gave me to buy paintings. If there was one thing I was going to enjoy in this marriage, it was going to be collecting art. Even though Cal thought my taste in art was lacking, he tolerated my passion and it gave me a purpose, however small.

In March of the following year, Cal told us that it was time to return home. It had been a grand vacation, but it was time to return to our lives in Philadelphia and it was time for us to marry and start having children before I was past my prime. At least that's what Mother told me. I couldn't imagine that I was past my prime at seventeen, but I didn't argue. It was always easier to just smile and nod. Cal told us that he'd bought tickets for us to return home on the grandest, most luxurious ship the world had ever seen. The R.M.S. Titanic. It was all anyone had been talking about for months, on the front page of the papers.

I didn't want to go home. Going home meant that it was all real and I was going to marry Cal and have his babies. I was going to be a high society wife, throwing grand dinners and pretending not to know that my husband was sleeping with other women when he didn't come to my bed at night. Of course, Cal was getting restless after almost two years. He made no secret of his desire to lie with me, and had taken to trying to coerce me into his bed at night. I could only hope that getting it all over with would sate him enough to give me some freedom. I still didn't really know what it meant to lie with someone. Mother had obviously never told me, and other than the crude explanation I'd gotten out of my hand maid Trudy, it was somewhat inconceivable to me how it all worked. I couldn't imagine loving anyone enough to want to do…that. Especially Cal.

The ship was terrifying. I'd never seen anything so enormous in my life. The only thing I could think of was that in four or five short days, we would dock at New York and Rose Dewitt-Bukater would cease to exist, replaced by Rose Hockley. I wasn't sure I would like her. I barely knew if I liked me. Seventeen is a confusing age. The first night was a blur. We ate dinner and I retreated to the safety of my bedroom, taking down my hair and massaging my poor scalp. I tried to remember what life was like before all this. When I was the chubby little girl in a frilly dress with bows in my hair. Mother had used to fret because I had a round face and my skin was so fair that I would burn almost at once. Thankfully, I'd grown out of that in my teenage years and the baby fat had matured into womanly curves. The roundness in my face was gone. But I still saw her there sometimes, the ruddy faced little girl who had loved to let her father tell her scary stories. I missed her. I missed him.

There seemed to be a ticking clock in the periphery of my mind chanting five days…When I woke up the following day, it was taunting me. In five days would begin the pre-wedding festivities. First, a formal dinner with Cal's father. Then, a wedding dress fitting. Meetings with lawyers and bridesmaids and florists. I couldn't believe it was all happening. That prince had never come to rescue me and now I was going to be trapped in the tower forever, doomed to a shallow life of endless fluff. Nothing I ever did would matter. Nothing would ever change. And I didn't know what to do.

So I panicked.

At dinner that night, when the gentlemen retreated for cigars and brandy, I claimed a headache and retreated to the bedroom. My corset seemed too constricting, making it hard to breathe as my mind raced and the harder I tried to catch my breath, the worse it got. By the time I opened the door, I was practically wheezing.

"Trudy!" I called, praying she was nearby, but there was no response. Frantically, I tried to reach back to unbutton my dress, but those dresses were not made for quick or easy removal. They were for fashion not convenience and I realized I was even trapped in my own clothes. "Trudy!" I called again, near tears and becoming angry, tearing at the dress, wondering if I could rip it off. I wrenched the necklace from my neck off, breaking the delicate clasp and ripping pins from my hair. "Trudy!" I cried, heaving. My eyes burned as I struggled to take in air. When she never came, I flew into madness, tossing things off of the vanity and screaming in frustration, sobbing. I was going to die in that damned dress and nobody would even hear or care.

That's when it hit me. The perfect escape. I could slip out unnoticed and just let myself fall into the water and slip away. I'd just close my eyes and think about Daddy and fall asleep…and I wouldn't have to marry Cal. They'd probably look for me, but they'd get over it. Cal would find another girl. Mother would live comfortably with Aunt Victoria and I wouldn't be sold off. Being seventeen, I was slightly dramatic, but at the time, it felt like the only solution. So, blindly, I ran.

I paused to look down at the roiling waters below, wondering if it was going to hurt or if it would be instant and I would just float into oblivion. Numbly, I climbed the rails and held tightly, closing my eyes and trying to find the will to just let go. I had almost worked up the courage, when a voice made me start violently.

"Don't do it."

Panicking and more than a little embarrassed, I'd called back, "Stay back! Don't come any closer!" I turned to look back and saw a man standing there, not much older than me. I figured if he thought I was insane, he'd leave me to it.

"Come on," He inched toward me like someone trying to approach a rabid dog, "just give me your hand. I'll pull you back over."

"No, stay where you are! I mean it! I'll let go!" I turned back around, trying to show him I was serious. He presented the cigarette he was smoking to me and threw it off the ship. I tried to watch it fall, but it was so small, it was lost before it was even halfway to the water. He gave me a challenging, cautious look, putting his hands in his pockets.

"No you won't."

"What do you mean 'no I won't'?" I asked indignantly, "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do! You don't know me!"

"Well, you would've done it already," He shrugged.

"You're distracting me!" I snapped, "Go away."

"I can't," He returned resignedly, shaking his head, "I'm involved now. You let go and I'm gonna have to jump in there after you." This was a mess. I was supposed to have just gone quietly and no one was supposed to notice. Now this obnoxious fool of a boy was going to spoil everything.

"Don't be absurd," I argued acidly, "You'd be killed."

"I'm a good swimmer," He assured me, grinning.

"The fall alone would kill you," I pointed out, feeling a twinge of panic at the thought.

"It would hurt," He conceded, "I'm not saying it wouldn't. Tell you the truth, I'm a lot more concerned about that water being so cold." I had no answer for this as my eyes fell to the water below, angrily lapping at the bottom of the ship.

"How cold?" I finally murmured. That's when I noticed he was removing his boots. He shrugged again.

"Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over. You ever, uh," His eyes shifted, "You ever been to Wisconsin?"

I stared blankly at him. "What?"

"Well," he continued, "they have some of the coldest winters around. I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. I remember when I was a kid, me and my father, we went ice fishing on Lake Wissota." I had no idea how to even respond to this. "Ice fishing is, you know, when you—"

"I know what ice fishing is!" I growled, rolling my eyes. The boy seemed to hold back a laugh, making me want to slap him.

"Sorry," He grinned, "You just seem like, you know, kind of an indoor girl." When he saw I was not amused, he went on, "Anyway, I, uh, fell through some thin ice and I'm telling you, water that cold," He nodded toward the ocean, "like right down there…it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe. You can't think…at least not about anything but the pain. Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in there after you." He raised his eyebrows at me, shrugging resignedly. "Like I said, I don't have a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the railing and get me off the hook here."

I glared at him. "You're crazy!"

He chuckled. "That's what everybody says, but with all due respect, Miss, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship here." He smiled, and I felt my determination dissolve, sighing in defeat. "Come on. C'mon, give me your hand. You don't want to do this." Swallowing my pride, I took his hand and slowly turned around on the rail, turning to face him. I was sort of surprised, staring down at the stranger with blond hair hanging in his eyes. He was very young, but something inside him was older. There was wisdom in his light blue eyes, perhaps even sadness lying beneath his optimistic exterior. I felt like I knew him.

"Whew!" He exclaimed in relief, grinning. "I'm Jack Dawson."

"Rose Dewitt-Bukater," I countered, making him chuckle in amusement.

"I'm gonna have to get you to write that one down." I couldn't help myself, I laughed. If there were people like this in the world, then maybe it wasn't such a bad place to live. Even if I had to marry Cal, I could find good friends.

That's when I fell. And for a moment, I thought it was all over. It wouldn't matter that I'd chosen to live, because I was going to die anyway. I realized that I could never have killed myself, because no matter how bad things seemed, they weren't worth dying for. And I didn't want to die. Not like this. But that stranger did not let go of my hand, he fought it and somehow, he found the strength to pull me up and over the rail and I got to live to see another day.

That was when everything changed.

That prince I'd been wishing for was right in front of me, dressed in rags. I'm not sure if I fell in love with him that night or if it was the following night when I snuck down to third class with him. Or maybe it was when he walked me back to the First Class entrance and we sang, both of us still full of energy even after the exertion of dancing for hours.

"Come Josephine, in my flying machine going up she goes! Up she goes!"

We'd reached the door and we'd stopped walking. I reluctantly removed his jacket and handed it back. "Well, here we are," I sighed.

"Right," He nodded as his smile faltered slightly.

"I don't wanna go back," I admitted, pausing briefly, before looking up at the night sky, so clear and brilliant in the middle of nowhere. No smog or city lights to pollute it. "Look," I murmured, "It's so beautiful."

"Yeah," He agreed, eyes turned upward. We probably looked like two small children, enchanted by something so many people took for granted. But I didn't care what we looked like. It was the happiest and saddest I'd ever felt. All at once.

"So vast and endless," I observed, twirling around one of the ropes on deck. "We're so small! My crowd…they think they're giants…but they're not even dust in God's eye."

"You know, there's been a mistake," Jack smirked, looking me in the eye, "You're not one of them. You got mailed to the wrong address." I laughed, surprised and flattered. The last thing I ever wanted was to become a vapid, insipid imbecile like so many of my friends had. It was the best compliment I'd gotten in a while.

"I did, didn't I?" I giggled, noticed a flash of light fly across the sky and gasping. "Look!" I cried excitedly, "A shooting star!" I'd never seen one before, but it seemed appropriate that I would see one here, standing with Jack Dawson. My only real friend in the world.

"That was a long one," Jack added, still looking up. "You know, my Pops used to tell me, every time you saw one, it was a soul going to Heaven." I looked at him for a moment, seeing that sadness I'd detected the night before. I held back the urge to hug him, because I knew. I knew exactly what he was feeling. The emptiness of losing my father still gnawed at me constantly, taunting me. It didn't seem right that he'd been gone for three years.

"I like that," I concurred, "Aren't we supposed to wish on it?" He looked down, meeting my eyes. I swallowed, feeling slightly nervous. It wasn't like the nervousness I felt with Cal. It was almost like an excited nervous. It felt like hope.

"Why?" He asked, smiling down at me, "What would you wish for?" I wasn't sure how to answer this. If he'd asked me the night before, I'd have wished for an escape. Now, I wasn't sure. Everything was different, standing in front of this boy and wondering what it would be like to have his arms around me. What it would be like to kiss him. I'd kissed Cal, of course, but it wasn't exactly what I would consider romantic, never mind the fact that he terrified me. Hiding my utter terror, I touched his shoulder and muttered a good night and fled. It was a cowardly thing to do, but I did.

I paid for my fun the next morning. Cal was furious. His valet had followed me and had reported back to his master like a good little lap dog. It was enough to scare me into following his orders. I wasn't sure if he'd retaliate against Jack, so I didn't challenge him. I resolved to forget Jack and focus on my duty. Whether or not I liked it, this wedding was going to happen. I was going to marry Cal and Jack was going to return to Chippewa Falls or wherever he decided to go next. And that was just the way it worked.

What I didn't expect was for him to come after me. He cornered me during our afternoon stroll and while I was absolutely terrified, I was also thrilled that he cared enough to come after me.

"Rose," He said, staring down at me, "You're no picnic, alright? You're a spoiled brat even, but under that, you're the most amazingly astounding, wonderful girl—" He shook his head, "Woman that I've ever known."

"Jack, I—" I began uncertainly, but he stopped me.

"No, let me try and get this out," He pleaded, "You're ama—" Another shake of his head, "I'm not an idiot. I know how the world works. I've got ten bucks in my pocket. I have no—nothing to offer you and I know that." He had no idea how wrong he was. "I understand. But I'm too involved now. You jump, I jump remember? I can't turn away without knowing you're alright. That's all I want."

"Well, I'm fine…" I lied. I wasn't fine. I was dying. "I'll be fine. Really."

"Really?" He sounded skeptical. "I don't think so. They've got you trapped, Rose. And you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong…but sooner or later, that fire that I love about you, Rose…that fire's gonna burn out."

I felt like he'd punched me in the gut. It took everything I had not to double over. "It's not up to you to save me, Jack."

"You're right," He agreed seriously, "Only you can do that." And then he was gone. But it wasn't over. I went after him. I fell hard as only a very young woman can fall and in my mind, my future started to change. I saw a new life forming. Perhaps I wasn't meant to live as a society wife. Maybe my purpose in this world was not to make an advantageous match. Maybe fate had put me and Jack Dawson on the Titanic for a reason. Maybe happiness wasn't too far out of my reach.

Fate is a cruel, cruel thing.

Twelve hours later, Jack Dawson was gone forever and I was lying in a lifeboat, staring up at the sky, waiting for the Carpathia to rescue us. My only consolation was that I had escaped Cal, even if it meant giving up my mother. I would let them believe that I had perished on the ship and I would start anew. I had a promise to keep. Some love affairs last months. Years. Decades.

Mine lasted for two and a half days. And then, he was gone.

But I wasn't alone. I didn't know it, but Jack had given me one more thing. In January, I gave birth to a healthy red haired girl. I thought I'd known love in my life. I loved my parents. I loved my cat. I loved Jack Dawson…brief though it had been.

But none of that compared to the love I felt for the person I'd given life to. We'd spent our time together. I'd felt her move. I'd spoken to her. I'd wondered what in the world I was going to do with her. She terrified me, but I love her more than I'd ever loved anything.

"What is her name, Mrs. Dawson?" The nurse asked. I looked up, realizing every decision I made from this moment on would affect this girl's life. Even her name. For a fleeting moment, I sorely wished for my mother, who always seemed so sure. How could I be responsible for this girl when I barely knew how to care for myself? What would Jack have named her? Jacqueline? Too cliché. Molly? She didn't look like a Molly to me. I briefly considered Grace, but the sound of the nurse humming to herself, made me look up.

Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes! Up she goes!

"Her name is Josephine," I heard myself say, looking down at the infant. "Jo."

"Very good, Ma'am."