AN: Thanks for all the great reviews and criticism! I love hearing what my readers think of my writing. This is my first fanfiction, so I admit I was surprised at all the good comments! Oh, and sorry I took so long to write! I wanted to make it as interesting and emotion-stirring as I could, especially at the end.
Rose looked at Michael from across the table over a cup of steaming coffee.
"So, Rose," he began. Rose braced herself for the question. "Who did you lose on Titanic?"
She gulped. "My, er, mother, fiancée', and a good friend," she said, not telling the whole truth. She had, indeed, never seen her mother again, nor did she see her former-fiancée, Caledon Hockley, after their near-confrontation on the rescue ship, and she did lose Jack, in some ways the closest friend she'd ever had, and much more. But for some reason, she didn't tell that to Michael.
In an attempt to comfort Rose, Michael leaned across the table and put a consoling hand over top of hers. "I am very sorry," he murmured, looking as if he meant every word. Although her mind was screaming at her, Rose couldn't help feeling a warm, tingling sensation when Michael had put his hand upon hers. Not nearly as strong as Jack's touch, but still...
She shook away the thought. Never let go. Never.
"Thank you. It... It means a lot to me," she responded.
They were seated in a cozy yet temporary hotel room. He was only planning to stay, Michael had explained, a couple of days. "Setting out for the horizon; going wher'er my feet decide to take me," he had said. He reminded her of Jack.
Changing the subject, she asked, "And what do you do for a living, Mr. Calvert?"
Michael smiled. "I'm into the arts. I play the fiddle and the guitar and the flute." Jack would've liked him. Rose took a sip of her coffee. "Fascinating," she replied enthusiastically.
"And you, Rose?"
Rose was unsure how to answer his question. "I... make each day count," she recited, planning out her next words. "Freelance. I pick up side-jobs here and there when I need them, but I was a... wealthy girl before Titanic, and I still have a good bit left. In the meantime, I just do what I care. I love waking up in the morning, not knowing where I'm going to wind up. I figure that life is a gift, and I don't intend on wasting it." Jack's presence was overwhelming her. She didn't know where the words came from, but she recognized them, and stuck to them.
Michael nodded, seeming deeply impressed. "Well said, Rose. Very."
To be truthful, technically, she hadn't had any money from her past days. What she did have, however, was the Heart of the Ocean, which she'd sold soon after discovering it. It had held too many harsh memories, she'd decided. With the diamond sold, Rose had enough cash to last her a lifetime, even living on the highest standards.
But living wealthy previously had changed Rose. She preferred low-profile and comfortable, which was just fine to her.
They talked until sunrise, until the pot of coffee was long gone. They conversed about Titanic, obviously, though Rose tried to avoid that subject, and about their interests and hobbies, careers, dreams... The topics were endless.
Finally, Rose had to stand up. "I really enjoyed this," she smiled. Michael, too, rose from his seat. He took Rose's hand and kissed the top of it delicately. "And I, as well," he agreed. "Good day, Rose Dawson." He bid her farewell.
She had her hand on the doorknob when she had a sudden urge to turn. "Mr. Calvert—Michael—I was wondering if, perhaps, you'd like to do something like this, sometime?" she found herself saying. Michael chuckled. "Of course, Rose. Say, this Wednesday? Meet me here?"
Rose nodded. "Sure. Thank you, Michael." She felt as if she'd finally found some comfort in the world after Jack.
"It's a date! See you then!" At Michael's words, Rose's heart fluttered slightly.
She brought herself to open the door, and stepped out into the hallway. As she made her way back to her own room, a block away, she couldn't help thinking.
Never let go. That's what she had promised to Jack. She'd vowed to Never let go. And she hadn't planned on doing so, ever. But, then, why had she felt that sensation of utter happiness and security while talking to Michael Calvert, a man whom she'd just met that morning? Why had her heart fluttered when he'd said "It's a date!" It only meant an appointment; a meeting, not a true outing with a lover, not at all.
A wave of guilt overwhelmed her, surging over her like the Atlantic waters surged over Titanic as the Ship of Dreams took its last breath. No, she scolded herself. No, you must not... You must not put yourself in this position, Rose! For some reason, her conscience seemed to take on the voice of her mother.
And, while her heart had possibly fluttered, it did not soar beyond the clouds as it had when Jack had held her hand, or clutched her waist delicately as they were "flying" over the ocean...
"I've changed my mind."
"Do you trust me?"
"I'm flying!"
"Come, Josephine, in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes..."
And their last words spoken to each other, as they clasped each other's hand...
" I love you, Jack."
"Don't you do that, don't say your good-byes. Not yet, do you understand me?"
"I'm so cold."
"Listen, Rose. You're gonna get out of here, you're gonna go on and you're gonna make lots of babies, and you're gonna watch them grow. You're gonna die an old... an old lady warm in her bed, not here, not this night. Not like this, do you understand me?"
"I can't feel my body."
"Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me... it brought me to you. And I'm thankful for that, Rose. I'm thankful. You must do me this honor. Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose, and never let go of that promise."
"I promise."
"Never let go."
"I'll never let go, Jack. I'll never let go."
No. Certainly not Michael.
Again, her conscience; her mother's voice, You must not put yourself in this position, Rose! This was the only time she would actually oblige to make an exception for her mother's commands.
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