((Alright, so I'm actually not entirely sure how long this story is going to last. I guess it depends on the reviews I get. It's up to you guys, as long as I have the slightest bit of a muse I'll keep going. So just tell me.

Disclaimers can be located on the first chapter. I don't like repeating myself much...
Glad you all liked the names of the horses. Couldn't resist that one.))

He had nearly forgotten what this was like. Riding at top speed, just a horse and you, the wind whipping past as you barrelled along the beach with the clean air in your face. It was one of the most relaxing and yet exciting exercises man could ever seek out. Feeling a laugh bubbling up to his lips for the first time in far too long, he let it rip from him, though the sound of it was lost on the wind. Not even this, however, took the thoughts of her from his mind, and the laughter died away all too soon.
"Whoah now, girl, easy, easy." He murmured comfortingly to the horse, stroking the sleek chestnut coat. "Easy there."

From where he had positioned himself the beach stretched almost eagerly before him, as if calling him to ride along it's sands. In an eerie moment an equally spooky thought flitted breifly through his mind for it was almost as if fate itself beckoned him forth. And when fate beckoned Jack Dawson, he wasn't usually one to refuse. Fate had handed him a Titanic ticket and the love of his life, after all. Then again, both had been ripped from him in far too short a time. Shaking his head, he took off again, letting the wind whip as many thoughts as possible from his mind. He needed a few less thoughts nowadays.

Not far ahead of him, the warm sun glinted off a duo. A young woman, sitting astride, and a pure black horse. There was no hat on her head, and the sun glinted strongly on her bright red hair as it had once glinted off her hair on the deck of Titanic. He couldn't say his heart hadn't leapt at the realization that the woman's hair was pure red, not the mottled brown found more often. However, his heart had settled, for there was no way, none at all, that she had survived. He remembered only slipping from the door he had been holding onto, and by the time he emerged Rose had gone. Frantically he had forced his raw and frozen throat to croak her name, but to no avail. There was no reply. Swimming frantically he grabbed hold of the whistle round the neck of the dead officer, blowing with all the air left in his lungs until a single lifeboat came and someone lifted him from the water. Next came the Carpathia, and avoiding all he knew. Fabri and Tommy were nowhere to be found on the list of survivors. Rose's name wasn't there, even little Cora was gone. Gone, everything gone.

Had he lost his ability to draw as well, he would have gone into complete depression.

A swift, soft breeze ruffled the red curls she had bound back just that morning into a neat, sleek ponytail though by now the neat and sleek bit had dropped away from the sentance. The wind had whipped strands from the hair tie and they now hung loosely about her prettily flushed face. Flushed from exhiliration and the all too rare feeling of happiness. From behind came the faint sound of laughter, and a set of new hoofbeats. Twisting in her saddle, she found herself looking over a distance long enough to blur the face, but short enough to see that it was a young man on a horse of brilliant chestnut coloring. Gaining quickly on her, threatening to take the lead.

She stopped for a moment to ponder the random set of her thoughts. This was no race, and yet here she was acting as if it were the most important thing to keep moving, to race whoever this was to the undetermined finish line. She ran the leather of the reins through her hands, feeling the it slip along against the skin of her fingers, the same pale, long fingered hands she had always had. Checking behind her once again, she turned as she realized the anonymous rider had picked up speed, and, at the moment, was literally not over three feet behind her. Turning abruptly before she could pick out any distinguishing features, she urged the horse forward.

Racing. They were racing, he realized with a jolt as the young woman glanced behind before picking up speed, turning so quickly he couldn't even tell vaugely what she looked like. Grinning at the concept of a race, he leaned over the horse's neck.
"C'mon Rose!" He said with a grin. The mare tossed her head, eyes fixed on the horse ahead of her. Jack realized immediatly what she had been trained for. A racehorse indeed.
The sound of her name on a familiar voice startled her, and she turned again, glancing over her shoulder at a chestnut horse, and a lowered head of shaggy blonde hair.
Jack?
This thought she dismissed immediatly. Jack was dead, she knew. Frozen down in the depths of the Atlantic with the Titanic and all the others in the floating graveyard of a wreckage site. Catching her breath, making sure she wasn't about to slip from the saddle with the false alarm of recognition she urged the horse on.
"Let's go, Jack! Come on, Jack, ol' boy, let's go!"

It was his turn to jump. Twice was his name uttered on a voice so hauntingly familiar, from the lips of a face he recognized with a jolt as the woman turned.
Rose.
He didn't care how impossible it was, his Rose was there in front of him though she didn't seem to recognize who was on the horse behind her.
"Rose! Rose!"
Desperately his voice called, and he nudged his heel into the horse's side. "Rose!"

Calling to the girl now, not the horse, he urged the mare as gently yet urgently as possible, leaning flat against the horse's neck.

For the third time she looked over her shoulder, for her name had been called three times on the voice she had dismissed earlier. There was still no way in the world it was Jack, and yet...and yet.
She didn't get to finish her thought, for at that instant, Blackjack spooked at some horse horror, and she lost her grip. With a yell she fell from the saddle, though it felt as she fell from the sky, landing in sprawled heap on the sand as Blackjack anxiousley stood over, snorting and bending his neck to look at the woman that had fallen from his saddle.

"ROSE!" Jack bellowed, leaping off Rose the horse before running to the Rose who had fallen. Plummeting to his knees, he brushed the hair from her face, feeling his breath catch as he looked down at her.
"Come on, Rose," he whispered, running a hand through her hair. "I already lost you once, I can't lose you again..."