Rose's POV

I sat huddled in the corner of the Third Class dining area, a blanket draped loosely around my shoulders as I sipped a bowl of hot soup, occasionally supplemented with a bite of bread. I I hadn't ventured far from this spot since we were rescued yesterday morning. It seemed safer to stay hidden away inside, in the warm, with food close by. Not that it was a very pleasant place to be. I was surrounded by nothing but grief and sorrow. My fellow survivors, the vast majority women and children, sat in various states of shock and horror. Some cried, some sought comfort in each other, and others simply sat in silence, staring into the distance. I felt as though I should be crying with them. I had suffered just as much. The Titanic had claimed the life of the only man I'd ever truly loved. But no matter how horrific the events of the previous night, I just couldn't seem to feel anything other than numb. I couldn't cry. I couldn't grieve. It was as though my heart was as frozen as the icy Atlantic ocean from which I had been pulled.

The energy it had taken for me to summon the attention of the lifeboat seemed to have drained me. I had not spoken a word to anyone after I was hauled aboard the lifeboat. I lay, almost completely covered in blankets, at the bottom of the boat. I barely paid attention to what went on around me. I vaguely listened to the argument which resulted in another boat being persuaded to go back into the field of bodies for one last search. I drifted in and out of consciousness until the Carpathia arrived in the early morning. Once hauled aboard, I was guided along with the steerage passengers to the appropriate area of the ship, and left to get on with things. I was a cold and damp, but nothing some hot food and rest wouldn't fix. Laying on the wooden raft out of the water had saved me from the worst of the cold. Just another item on the list of things I would never be able to thank Jack for.

I pulled myself to my feet and left the dining room. I needed some air. And a break from the crying. I walked along the deck of the ship, the sea breeze blowing lightly in my face. The overcrowded steerage deck was awash with the yet more survivors. It felt as though there were a lot of us - Carpathia was of course smaller than Titanic, and had already been carrying it's own passengers - but in reality, there were far less of us than there could, and should, have been. 178, I would later find out, Third Class passengers had survived the sinking. A shameful number.

I pulled my blanket up over my head like a scarf. I needed to conceal myself from anyone who might come looking for me - particularly Cal, if he had survived. Is it wrong to wish someone dead? Does it count if that someone is the lowest excuse for a human being you've ever met? My opinion of my former fiancée had never been particularly high, but after the events of last night, they couldn't possibly be lower. He was a coward, for trying to bribe his way off the ship (how else could his "arrangement" with an officer have been accomplished?). A cruel beast, for framing Jack for a crime he didn't commit, and intending him to die for it.

I sat to rest on the deck of the ship, surrounded by others. Suddenly, a painfully familiar voice reached my ears.

"You, let me through here"

Cal. I felt the shock of his voice in the pit of my stomach.

"Sir, I don't think you'll find any of your lot down here, it's all steerage"

The officer's remark did nothing to deter him. I dared not look round as I heard the sound of angry footsteps make their way along the deck. I pulled my blanket tighter around my head, shielding any stray red curls blowing in the wind. After several moments, I dared to steal a glance out of the corner of my eye. There he was. Caledon Hockley. His self-made luck triumphing again. Oh his suit was torn and water-stained, his hair was tousled and unkempt, but he was alive. When so many, Jack included, were not.

He paced the deck angrily, mercifully overlooking me. His infamous lack of patience took over, and he soon stormed off back towards the First Class section of the ship. During my final stolen glance of him, I saw fury, rage, and shockingly, perhaps a hint of grief. Perhaps he had loved me, in some sort of twisted way. I had read novels in which some men who were aggressively controlling of their wives, simply because they were scared of losing them. Perhaps Cal could have fallen into that category. I thought back to the early days of our relationship; he ad proposed to me in one of the most expensive restaurants in Paris, his eyes seemingly full of desire. He had charmed me, flattered me, put me under his spell. Nevertheless, it was nowhere near enough to persuade me that he was a man I was willing to go back to. It didn't take very long for him to turn, once he was certain he had me in his clutches. It started slow - politely but firmly insisting on what I wore, what I ate, what I bought (or rather, what was bought for me). Then it slowly escalated. Persuasion turned into threats, although he had never actually assaulted me until yesterday morning on the Titanic. It was startling to think of how quickly things had escalated since then. No, Caledon Hockley was not a man I would ever willingly put myself back into the clutches of. Not after Jack had given his life to free me from that monster. He was out of my life for good.

Relief washed over me once Cal had finally left the deck. Left to my thoughts once again. I stared around me blankly, not looking at anyone in particular, until a strangely familiar face appeared across the deck. It took me a while to even realise that she was vaguely familiar, but indeed she was. A pale young woman with silvery blonde hair. Her porcelain face was tear stained, her blonde hair shielded with a blanket worn the same as mine. She sat alone, her knees pulled to her chest as she sobbed. It was the woman I'd seen dancing with Jack's friend, Fabrizio, the other night at the steerage party. Helga, I think her name was. The sight of her alone with her grief awoke some sort of feeling inside me. I wanted to help her. We were barely acquaintances, but the tiny ounce of familiarity in this sea of hell around me offered a tiny crumb of comfort.

I silently got to my feet and walked slowly across the deck towards her. She looked up as I sat down next to her, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Helga?" I asked, my voice quiet and bland from under-use.

She nodded timidly, thinking hard as she worked out who I was.

"Rose?" she finally asked, her crying subsiding a little.

I nodded in reply, allowing the corners of my mouth to crease into half a smile - the closest to a happy reaction I could muster.

An awkward silence followed, neither of us sure what to say. Slowly, I put my arm around her shoulders.

"I'm glad you survived" I finally said. It was all I could think of.

"Uh..." Helga replied awkwardly. "English... no?" she said slowly.

Ah. She doesn't speak English. Well this was a bit awkward. How had she gotten so close to Fabrizio in such little time when she didn't speak English?

"Oh... I'm sorry" I replied, thinking for a moment. What was her surname again? I was sure she had told me when we met briefly at the party. Dahl? That was a Norwegian name, wasn't it?

"Norsk?" I asked tentatively. Amazingly, her eyes lit up slightly. She nodded pleased to finally understand something.

Aha, a breakthrough! By some happy coincidence, one of my governesses as a child, Greta, had been Norwegian. It was all the rage to have a European governess in Philadelphia at the time, and, ever the one to impress, Mother wasn't going to skip the trend. She was my governess for the longest of the several I'd had growing up. However, Mother grew tired of her eventually and had her swiftly replaced, much to my dismay. Greta was my favourite of the governesses, and she had taken pleasure in teaching me her own language, once she found me a willing and eager pupil. I thoroughly enjoyed learning, and grasped the language quickly. I think the excuse to speak her mother tongue reminded Greta of home. And as long as my French didn't suffer, Mother didn't mind me learning it. My governess's friendly and fun approach to teaching meant that I now understood Norwegian rather well.

"Hvor er Fabrizio?" she asked me, reaching out to squeeze my arm urgently.

My smile faded.

"Jeg vet ikke" I replied quietly.

"I don't know"

Helga's face fell. Fresh tears formed in her eyes and she buried her face in her hands to hide them.

"He is dead, I'm sure" she sobbed. I forced my brain to remember the Norwegian words I hadn't used in a good few years to piece together what she was saying.

"My parents too, are dead, I'm sure. We made it to the deck before all the boats were gone, but we were separated in the crowd. An officer persuaded me to get into one of the last boats. I looked and looked but my parents were gone"

I felt truly sorry for her. I wished there was more I could do to comfort her, but the most I could do was put my arms around her comfortingly. We sat huddled together in silence for a while, sharing our mutual grief, until we were interrupted by one of the ship's officers, taking names for the list of survivors.

I paused before answering. I couldn't give my real name. The survivors list was surely the first place Cal would continue his search for me. No, I needed another...

"Dawson" I found myself saying. "Rose Dawson"

He thanked me with a nod and left us.

Taking Jack's name felt like the right thing to do for several reasons. Firstly, it would provide me with a disguise to hide me from Cal, should he turn to the lists in search of me. Secondly, it was the only way I had left to connect myself to him. If I couldn't have Jack, I would remember him with his name. Rose DeWitt Bukater had died on the Titanic. Rose Dawson was a new person, and she intended to make each day count.

Hello :)

I hope this chapter meets your approval :) I thought the idea of having Rose's governess teaching her Norwegian would be an interesting way to open up Helga's character, as it's made pretty clear originally that she doesn't speak English, as well as providing further development for Rose. I haven't seen this idea done before, so I'd appreciate any thoughts you may have on it. Also, I apologise if there's anything wrong with the few Norwegian sentences in this chapter, or any to come. I myself have no knowledge of the language and am relying entirely on Google Translate xD Now to start on Chapter Three.

Ciao :) x