I don't own anything from the movie Titanic


2

I held my cue in my hand, staring down the deck at the deck shuffleboard laid out in front of me. I hummed, tilting my head.

"Come on now, Madeline, we don't have all day."

I turned to my aunt, giving her a very pointed look. "Have patience, please. I must be accurate."

My aunt Molly shook her head, letting her impatience get the best of her as she sighed loudly. How dramatic. Mr Andrews stood next to her, much more content than she. His tall body and handsome face were relaxed, seeming to enjoy the ocean breeze and warm sun. He was not a competitive man. He was too kind to be. He made for a nice person, but he would lose this game of deck shuffleboard for it.

I lined my cue up to the weighted disc, pushing just the right amount. It slid across the deck smoothly, stopping in the square labelled eight, the second highest score. "Ha!" I smiled widely, turning to my aunt Molly. "Eight." I looked to the man who was keeping track of our scores, making sure that he was writing it down, which he was. "Beat that, you two."

Aunt Molly sauntered passed me, seeming cocky. "Well, watch this, kid." She spent barely anytime preparing, and then she pushed her disc, knocking mine out of it's spot, now replaced with hers. She turned towards me, happy as a pig in mud. "How about that?"

I huffed, not hiding my disappointment. "I let you do that."

Aunt Molly took her place beside me. "I'm sure."

Mr. Andrews walked up to the board. "I do not know how I'm going to best you ladies. You're both very determined."

"That, we are," Aunt Molly admitted.

Mr. Andrews made his shot, the disc slowing at a seven. I wasn't sure if he really was so bad at shuffle, or if he was simply letting us win. Either way, I was okay with winning, whether if was 'fair and square' or not.

The very loud sound of a couple of men laughing caught my attention a couple decks below. I watched as the curly-headed man from a couple nights ago stood next to more poverish-looking men. They seemed to be having a grand time. And then they separated, and the curly-headed man leaned over the railing, pulling a cigarette from his jacket.

I walked towards the board, spotting the gap between the railing and the floor. All I had to do was push really hard. So I turned towards the board and pretended to survey what was in front of me. "Yes, well, my components, watch this!" I pushed much too hard on the disc and at such an angle that it conveniently slid under the and off the deck. I paused and waited a mere second until I heard the disc thump down on the third class deck.

The man taking our scores immediately reached for a replacement disc.

"Oh my," Mr. Andrews said, surely never seeing a guest do that before.

My aunt chuckled. "Very impressive, kid."

I turned towards the man handing me the new disc and I shook my head. "Nonsense. I'm at fault here. I will retrieve the disc." Before anyone could protest, I jogged toward the stairs, picking up my dress as I raced down the stairs. I went lower and lower until my most expensive shoes touched down on the third class deck.

The flooring was nothing to brag about, as it did not shine and creaked under my feet. It was the exact same structure as the first class deck, just less luxury and pretty things to look at. It drained my mood just being on the deck. But it felt nice to be closer to the ocean.

I spotted the curly-headed man leaning over the railing. First thing; he was tall. Second thing; he was handsome. Third thing; he was confused. I put on the most charming southern smile I had as I walked closer to him. "It's a shuffleboard disc."

He turned to me, cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth. He held the disc firmly in his big hands as he flipped it around, a thick Irish accent coming through when he said, "I know what it is, love."

I laughed. "My apologies." I walked closer, observing his light eyes and that hat on top of his head that could never contain the brown curls coming from his head. His hair looked soft and inviting, much like his face. The facial hair he had growing was just short and managed but not groomed properly. Still, he was more handsome than any other man I could ever recall meeting. I needed to know his name. "My apologies, Mr..."

"Tommy Ryan," he said quickly, taking the cigarette out of his mouth and sticking his hand out.

I slid my hand into his, the back of my hand facing up, preparing for the proper introduction. "Madeline Brown."

He just twisted my hand and shook it roughly. "Nice to meet ya."

I rubbed my wrist, still recovering from the harsh handshake. "I hope the disc didn't injure anyone. They can be quite harmful."

Tommy looked down at the disk. "Nearly took my head off." He looked down at me, eyes scanning over my face so quick that if I had blinked I would've missed it. "You should be more careful."

I took the disk from his hands carefully, still smiling. "Will do, Mr. Ryan."

He smiled. He was gorgeous. "Tommy's fine, love."

I took a step back, watching the sun shine behind him. He had me mesmerized. "And that's Madeline to you."

"My apologies," he said in his deep, rough voice. He was still smiling as I backed away. "Madeline."

"Don't be surprised if you see me coming back," I told him. "For the disc, I mean."

He put his cigarette between his lips. "See you soon then, Madeline."

I gave him one last look - flirtatiously. I turned around, walking towards the stairs, feeling warm inside. I noticed my body finally relax. Talking to Tommy Ryan got me all worked up and I hadn't even noticed. When he looked at me, I just couldn't help to get excited. I wanted to know him better. I wanted to see him again, but my mother said a desperate woman is a single woman. Quite contradictory to her desperation to find me a husband.

Either way, I would listen to her advice. I wouldn't pine after a man I just met - or any man for that matter. Even if Tommy Ryan was alluring in every sense and the pull from me to him was strong, I would keep my distance and let it work out itself.

But if it didn't work itself out in the next day or two, I didn't mind breaking the rules.


The dining room was of the utmost elegance. It was clean and classic and white everywhere. The intricate detailing of the ceiling above me was a wonderful white, as were the arches and the pillars and that walls. The servers were dressed in all white, the tablecloths were white. It was all very pristine.

I sat at a big, white table, with my aunt Molly on one side of me, and another moustache-having man on the other. Mr. Andrews was across from me. Rose and her mother and Cal were a couple of seats down.

My conversations spread across the entire table, though the ones I most enjoyed surrounded me quite closely. My aunt Madeline and Mr. Andrews and I were having quite the conversation about our shuffleboard game earlier today when Rose suddenly stood, spinning around and walking away.

You could see it on her face - when she was sitting there and whens she stood up and stormed off; that she didn't care about a single thing anyone was saying. She looked deep into her own mind, not paying any attention to the world surrounding her. Then again, maybe she didn't want to.

The whole table fell silent. A second or two later I stood. "Excuse me." I slowly made my way away from the table, heading towards the doors of the dining room.

"Excuse me, miss." A server stopped me, looking confused. "Can I help you with anything?"

"I just need some fresh air." I smiled, walking out of the dining room and out onto the deck. The air was much colder at nighttime. I held my arms around myself, feeling my self shiver lightly, as I was not dressed to be outside.

I looked around, seeing that far ahead of me Rose was running, pushing past anyone and everyone to get to god knows where. I sighed, not feeling up to running. I walked quickly, trailing her. I lost sight of her somewhere in between bumping into a couple on a stroll and almost tripping over myself.

"Rose?" I called out, walking around the first class deck another two times. It was only the same people doing the same things. I was throwing myself through a loop. She wasn't on the first class deck.

I moved down to the second class deck, asking a couple of people if they had seen a frantic, pretty, redhead around in the last fifteen minutes. No one said much of anything, usually ending in a harsh 'no'. I took a couple loops around the second deck before heading down to the third class deck.

In the dark, there was less beauty in the water. It was now just a dark abyss, so that now all I could focus on was the crushing sound of the rushing water below. It sounded terrifying.

I leaned away from the railing, tightening my arms around myself. As I turned around, my eyes stuck on the water below, I bumped into a tall body. "Oh!"

His big and strong hands attached themselves to my small shoulders, steadying me. And then he smiled down at me. "Back already? I'm afraid I don't have another disc for ya, love."

I looked up at his beard and then his nose and then his eyes. My eyes locked onto his and I felt myself smiling. "Tommy Ryan." I took a breath, composing myself. "I didn't loose my disc this time. I've lost a friend."

One of his eyebrows rose above the other. "Which friend of yours would come down to the third class deck, huh?"

My smile turned to something of a smirk. "Are you implying that I'm being dishonest, Tommy?"

At the sound of me saying his name, his smile widened. "Nonsense. I wouldn't do such a thing." His hands fell from my shoulders as he took one small step away from me. "Lost a friend, huh? Who are we lookin' for?"

"Do I look in need of assistance?"

He subtly looked me up and down. "You seem capable. But I have good eyes."

I walked past him, picking my skirt up to ensure that I didn't embarrass myself by tripping over my dress - something I was exceptionally good at doing. "That, you do." I suddenly didn't feel as cold, his tall body blocking the cold air from hitting me. "What else can you brag about?"

"Where do I start?" His voice was rough and his steps were loud, somehow making more attractive. You would never find a man like him atop. Maybe that was why he intrigued me so. "I'm fantastic at poker."

I laughed. "Is that all?"

"And arm wrestlin'." He blew smoke from his mouth, then looked to me. "Wanna go?"

My brows furrowed. Where could we possibly go? "Go where?"

He laughed loudly - a wonderful sound. "I meant, do you want to arm wrestle with me, Maddy?"

I didn't remember giving him permission to shorten my name to his liking, but it didn't matter. I liked it. I liked hearing his own version of my name come out of his mouth so much that I didn't care to mention his informality.

I held my head high. "A lady does not arm wrestle."

"And a lady doesn't come down to the third class deck, yet here you are." Tommy stopped in front of me, blocking my path forward. He looked confused, very much like the first time I saw him. He seemed to be thinking deep in his head, which made me think he was unaware of just how close he was to me. "What're you doin' down here, love? Why not let her find her way on her own? Why come down to this grimy deck to find her?"

I took the tiniest of steps back, just so I had room to breathe and respond. "Believe it or not, Tommy Ryan, I don't find the third class deck grimy. I find it interesting - a change of scenery, if you will."

Again, he came closer. "And how many of your people share those thoughts?"

"Likely just the friend that decided to hide out on your deck," I answered, feeling his breath of my face. He smelt of cigarettes all over, especially his breath. It was all I could smell as he came even closer. I didn't mean to, but my hand flew up to his chest to ensure there was a decent amount of distance between us. My hand on his hard chest made my breath catch in my throat and I suddenly didn't mind the nearly nonexistent space between us. I looked up at him. "I -"

There was a scream. And then another. The cold air was filled with a panicked girl screaming and a panicked man yelling. Rose, I assumed.

"Where -"

Tommy grabbed my hand, tugging me forward. "The back of the ship."

We started running, him much faster than I. It was only a matter of seconds before I tripped over my dress, and that I did. My face bounced off the hard floor and I groaned quietly. Tommy picked me up quickly, like I weighed nothing to him. He touched my forehead, his fingertip causing a great deal of pain.

"Ow!"

He let his hand fall. "You've got a nasty cut there, love."

I touched my forehead, pulling away to find blood. I huffed, feeling annoyed at myself to let that happen. "My goodness, I -"

He cupped my face, angling my head towards a dim, hanging light next to us. "Shouldn't be so bad. Just give it a good clean and you'll be -"

Another loud scream. "Help, please!" Rose sounded in great distress. She sounded scared. It was the kind of scream that wrapped around your bones and made you stiff and cold. "Help! Please! Please, help me!"

I ran past him, making sure to hold my dress up this time around. I ran and I ran until the screams seemed louder and closer. When I made my way up a very small flight of stairs to reach the very back deck, a couple of guards were running ahead of me, yelling at a man standing beside Rose.

I rushed towards Rose. Her hair was big and messy and her face was red, very contrast again her cold and pale skin. I helped her up, then seeing her face, covered in tears. "Rose, by heavens, are you all right?"

She just shook violently, trying to form a sentence but couldn't.

"Fetch the master of arms!" One of the guards said.

I wrapped an arm around Rose. "Let's get out of the cold, ok?" She nodded and I led her not inside, just under a sheltered roof with walls - someplace to block out the wind. I asked for a blanket, which was given to me in a matter of seconds. I wrapped it around her tight, rubbing her arms hastily. "Warming up?"

She barely nodded.

In a matter of minutes, the blonde-haired, baby-faced man was being cuffed and my oh so favourite person Cal was marching up to us. "What happened?"

I stood straight in front of him. "Your concerns should be placed elsewhere." I gestured to Rose, who looked small and scared wrapped up in her blanket.

Cal pushed past me, inspecting every inch of his fiancee. He glanced over his shoulder at me. "Why are you here? Never mind. What happened?"

I looked at the blonde-haired man. He was small in stature and skinny. He didn't looked malnourished, he just seemed small all over naturally. His hair looked soft, although he could've used a good haircut, as it seemed in his face. His face - it seemed kind. I couldn't picture his looming over Rose, with the intent to do something bad, though that was the picture that was painted right now.

Cal didn't wait for my response as he delve into a world of madness. "This is completely unacceptable!" he yelled. He marched over to the man. "What made you think that you could put yours hands on my fiancee?" He didn't give him time to respond. He grabbed the front of his shirt. "Look at me, you filth!"

"Cal," Rose warned.

Cal shook the man again. "What do you think that you were doing?"

Rose got up quickly, running over to the two men. She placed a hand on Cal. "Cal, stop." She pulled him away. "It was an accident."

Cal stared at her in disbelief, much like myself. "An accident?"

"It was," she defended. Rose had the smallest of smiles on her face as she chuckled, seeming embarrassed. "Stupid, really. I was leaning over and I slipped." She paused, giving everyone just enough time to stare at her in confusion. "I was leaning far over to see the...uh, uh, uh, the uh, uh -" She motioned with her hands.

Cal leaned in close. "Propellors?"

"Propellors! And I slipped." She said it so simply, as if she wasn't so shaken up just moments ago. "And I would've gone overboard, but Mr. Dawson here saved me and almost went over himself!"

It sounded true, the way Rose was telling the story, but the dishonesty in her eyes, as well as the look on Jack Dawson's face made me wonder what else there was to be told. Just as such, it was none of my business. And I was all but too pleased that Rose was standing safely on the deck rather than somewhere in the deep, dark waters below.

Cal looked at Rose as if she was a child. "You wanted to see the -" He looked away from her, painting a smile on his unfriendly face, and turned to everyone else. "She wanted to see the propellors." Cal tried his hardest to laugh.

A man standing nearby - head of security I presumed - started up. "Like I said; women and machinery do not mix."

The man holding innocent Jack Dawson turned him around roughly, looking at him with intimidation. "Was that the way of it?"

Jack turned to Rose, looking at her and her only. "Yeah," he said simply. "Yeah, that was pretty much it." Nonchalant and carefree. He, like Rose, seemed all of the sudden unbothered by the events that preceded.

The same man with the so wise advice about women and machinery spoke up once again and I found myself tempted to roll my eyes. "Well, the boy's a hero then!" The first thing I had ever enjoyed hearing coming out of that mans mouth. "Good for you, son. Well done. So it's all's well and back to our brandy, eh?"

The handcuffs unshackled and I walked closer to Jack Dawson, sticking out my hand. That time I stuck it out vertical and I locked my wrist firm in preparation for the handshake I knew I would be getting. "Madeline Brown."

He shook it with a certain gentleness. His long fingers wrapped around my hand. The delicateness was only something I had ever known in a true artist. "Jack Dawson."

"Maybe a little something for the boy?" I heard to my left. Cal and Rose were walking away, without so much as a thanks.

"Of course." Cal stopped and turned to Mr. Lovejoy. "Mr. Lovejoy, I think a twenty should do it."

Rose chuckled a humourless chuckled. She was unimpressed, as she always was. "Is that the going rate for saving someone you love."

I pressed my lips against each other, feeling the laugh come up my throat. Though it did not escape, I rose an eyebrow at Cal when his eyes met mine and I couldn't help but smile at the slightly embarrassed look on his face.

"Rose is displeased." He turned back to her, pursing his lips. "What to do?"

Something out of the ordinary - out of the box. Something that was meaningful and time-consuming and a dream come true.

Cal walked over to Jack Dawson, a neutral look on his face, heavy in his steps. All the men moved with him, like magnets. "Perhaps you could join us for dinner tomorrow evening...to regale our group...with your heroic tale."

That would do it.

In true fashion of Jack Dawson's lack of polite social skills, he responded with, "Sure. Count me in."

"Good." Cal seemed satisfied with himself. Most likely because he knew Jack Dawson would be embarrassed to show up amongst so many established people. What would he wear? How would he act? After all, you cannot bring a knife to a gun fight. "It's settled then."

Again, like magnets, all the men walked away, to wherever the fastest way to get to first class was.

I turned to Jack Dawson, wanting to ask him the very question since I shook his hand. "Do you like to draw? Paint? Anything of the such?

Jack was hard to read. I couldn't tell if he thought I was prying or genuinely interested. It was the ladder, though he didn't seem to know it. "Draw."

I nodded, offering the kindest smile I could muster. That was the one facial expression that came naturally. It was one I never had to fight to put on. "You have an artist's hand, Mr. Dawson. I'm inclined to bother you one sunny afternoon for a portrait."

His brows furrowed. "But you haven't even seen my work -"

"Is that a no, then?"

"No -" He shook his head. "I mean yes." He nodded then, his floppy hair finding its place when his head stopped moving. "I can draw you."

I sighed happily, starting to step away. I did really want a portrait, just the sea and I, but Jack Dawson also intrigued me. Speaking of people who intrigued me. "Oh, Mr. Dawson?"

"Jack is just fine." He seemed less stiff. He even smiled a slight bit.

"Jack," I corrected. "I've seen you speaking to a certain curly-headed Irishman by the name -"

"Tommy Ryan?"

I smiled widely suddenly and uncontrollably. "That is the one. Would you please give him my thanks for tonight. His ears and eyes were much beneficial to me."

Jack nodded, turning his lanky-like body to the side, hands sliding into his pockets as he leaned against the wall. He seemed comfortable there. "Sure."

"Thank you." I nodded, picking up a hefty sum of the dress, making sure to actually lift it off the ground this time around. "I'll be seeing you at dinner tomorrow night then, Jack."

He nodded. "Tomorrow night."