Before we begin, I'd like to thank those of you who have either reviewed, favorited, and/or followed this story. I'm so happy that it's being enjoyed! I'll respond to those who left reviews at the end of the chapter :)
I forgot to mention in the last chapter that I know "Rose has a sister" has been done before. To be honest, I just wanted to see what would happen if I wrote one of my own.
This story will contain a mixture of what's in the final film, snippets of the deleted scenes, a few things from the uncut script, and some original material.
I would also like to note that I've researched what life was like during this particular time period. If I've missed anything in the historical sense, feel free to correct me. I want to make it as realistic as I can. Also, some of the material will be slightly changed in order for what I have planed to work. (As Sid the Sloth would say: "Don't spear me!")
Side Note: I'm not entirely sure if I've done justice for Tommy's accent. I'd like to apologize in advance for any major screw-ups I've made with his vocabulary.
Disclaimer: I don't own Titanic. James Cameron does.
Enjoy!
"She is the largest moving object ever made by the hand of man in all of history," explained Mr. Ismay, the Managing Director of Titanic.
There was a smile upon his face, letting all who shared the same table as him know how proud he was. It was as if, Caroline noticed, he had been the one solely responsible for it being built.
What an amusing thought: Ismay building Titanic from the ground up!
She couldn't imagine how a man of such high standings would dare get his hands dirty in order to create such a majestic beast of a machine. In fact, she could hardly believe that her family and herself had been invited to join him for lunch. But, she supposed, Cal had his ways. If he wanted something badly enough, he'd go after it until it was obtained.
Introductions had been made close to twenty minutes prior, allowing all members of the party to know who they had the pleasure of dinning with. Aside from Mr. Ismay, there was Mr. Andrews. He was the one responsible for the ship's design. Though not the most talkative, he came off to Caroline as kind and humble. In fact, he reminded her a little bit of her late husband. Mr. Andrews was the first of the newest acquaintances she warmed up to. Molly Brown was the only other woman, and she wasn't shy even in the slightest. She was loud and let everyone know pretty much anything that crossed her mind. (Caroline could tell from the way Mother looked at Molly that she didn't like her at all.)
"Our master shipbuilder, Mr. Andrews here, designed her from the keel up," continued Mr. Ismay, indicating towards said Irishman.
It was quite clear that Mr. Andrews didn't enjoy the amount of attention he was receiving. "Well, I may have knocked her together, but the idea was Mr. Ismay's. He envisioned a steamer so grand in scale, and so luxurious in its appointments, that its supremacy would never be challenged. And here she is . . . ." Mr. Andrews then slapped the table, starling Caroline. He sent her an apoptotic glance, which she returned with a reassuring smile. Having seen this, he continued speaking. "A marvelous ship, willed into reality."
There was a look of displeasure plastered on Molly's face, as if something had upset her. "Why're ships always called 'she?' Is it because men think half the women around have big sterns and should be weighed in a tonnage?" she wondered allowed, drawing different reactions from those who listened to her.
"That's a rather crass thing to say, Mrs. Brown," remarked Caroline as some of the others laughed at Molly's joke.
"Oh, what's with the 'Mrs. Brown?' Go on right ahead and call me just plain old Molly, kid."
"Right. Of course, Mrs. - I mean, Molly," said Caroline, having caught herself.
There was now a smile that was a mixture of amusement and pleasure worn by Molly. "Now, that's more like it."
Having been caught up in the moment, Caroline let slip, "Maybe the reason why ships are called 'she' is because it's an example of men setting rules their way." She instantly realized the mistake she had made. Blushing in embarrassment, Caroline quickly said, "I apologize. I do not know where that came from."
The others might have found it good fun, but if there was a single person who didn't, it was her mother. She may not have any control over Molly, but she did have enough of it over Caroline. She didn't want to spend the rest of the day on her mother's bad side.
Seeing the younger woman's discomfort, Molly added, "I think I could agree to that, youngin'."
Despite herself, a small grin spread across Caroline's face.
While this occurred, Rose had decided to take out a cigarette and even went as far to light it. There was a look upon her pretty face, the kind that was both blank and rebellious. It was as if she did not care that it was improper of her to do so in public.
Not wanting to cause a scene, their mother leaned in towards Rose and whispered in a threating tone of voice, "You know I don't like that, Rose."
Rose simply turned towards her and slowly blew a puff of smoke into her face. The look their mother wore was near pure rage. Caroline didn't understand what her little sister was thinking. She knew that Rose and their mother did not get along well with each other, but she was smart enough not to greatly upset the latter.
"She knows," said Cal as he pulled it out of the stick it had been placed in. He then proceeded to stub it out.
Caroline felt bad for her sister. However, she knew that Rose was aware of what would most likely happen if she did so in front of everyone.
Why did she do it, then?
Maybe it was for attention? Possibly. It would explain how she had been acting the past few days.
By this time, the waiter had arrived. When it was Cal's turn to order, he stated that both he and Rose would have the lamb. He even had the nerve to then ask her, "You like lamb, don't you, sweetpea?" It was as if he was talking to a toddler who was incapable of making their own decisions.
The faux smile Rose gave him as a response was enough to make Caroline feel anxious. Things could end up going bad if Cal wasn't careful with what how he approached her.
Molly, noticing this, leaned across the table and teasingly asked, "So, you gonna cut her meat for her, too, Cal?"
Cal was obviously not pleased by the older woman's remark. Even if her denied it until his skin turned blue, his face was a dead-give-away.
This didn't phase Molly in the slightest. She immediately turned her attention on everyone in the group. "Hey, who came up with the name 'Titanic?'" A sly, knowing look crossed the first class woman's gaze as a huge smile made an appearance. "Was it you, Bruce?"
Mr. Ismay took the flattery very well. His chest even puffed up a fraction of the way. It was as if the naming of the ship was the most crucial part of its design, one that someone only as great as he could take on. "Yes, actually. I wanted to convey sheer size. And size means stability, luxury, safety, and above all, strength."
Caroline's head titled slightly to the right, lips now drawn into a thin line. It always puzzled Caroline how a man's ego could be so easily inflated. She knew that Molly knew what she was doing. To be honest, it was smart, if only a little cruel. It was an easy way to keep the conversation going, no matter how self-absorbed it may eventually become.
Rose decided to speak at that exact moment. "Do you know of Dr. Freud?"
Caroline's widened gaze shot in her sister's direction. She had a feeling where this would go, and it would not end well for anyone.
"His ideas about the male preoccupation with size might be of particular interest to you, Mr. Ismay."
Now she'd done it.
Molly and Mr. Andrews muffled their chuckles of amusement, Cal and their mother wore similar looks of shock, and Caroline couldn't prevent an internal groan from banging inside her head.
Caroline watched her mother hiss something at her sister in a whisper from the other side of the dinning table. This caused Rose's already emotionless pair of lips to twitch in irritation. "Excuse me," she managed to get out before leaving, her napkin now resting atop her plate.
As Rose stalked away, Caroline could see how mortified her mother was by Rose's actions and statements. Cal looked as if he was fighting to keep himself calm. She had a feeling that one of them were going to go after her, and she had an even stronger feeling that it would only make things worse. Before either of them could follow suit, Caroline said, "Please, excuse me. I'll go after her."
She was careful to make sure she acted proper, not wanting to upset Cal and her mother any more than they already were. As she passed Cal, she felt him gently grab on to her arm, indicating for her to bend slightly downwards. "Make sure," he whispered so quietly that Caroline needed to strain her ears to hear him, "that you both return before our meals arrive."
The young woman merely nodded her head before exiting the café.
Rose wasn't anywhere indoors, so that only left one other place: the decks. Sure enough, Caroline immediately found her sister.
"There you are," she said in greeting once she stood beside the railing that Rose had placed herself in front of. "We're missing you at lunch."
Without looking her older sister's way, Rose asked in a cold tone of voice, "They made you follow me, didn't they?"
Caroline shook her head. "No one made me. I came on my own accord." She rested her hands on top of the railing, eyes set on Rose. "Care to tell me what caused you to act so rudely?"
"You're not Mother," Rose said after releasing a sigh of irritation, "so don't act like her."
The elder of the two had to fight back the snapping remark she wanted to let loose. Now was not the time and place for an argument. Instead, she looked away from Rose. "I merely only came out here to -" She trailed off from whatever she had planned on saying.
Caroline had noticed a trio of men gathered near the edge of the third class deck. One of them was a tanned-skin man with pitch-black hair, a good-humored smile covering his face. From a distance, it looked as if he was possibly of Italian decent. Beside him sat a blonde-haired man. There was something resting in his lap, which Caroline assumed was a collection of paper. He was intently staring at something in wonderment, as if he was seeing daylight for the very first time.
She followed his line of sight, and eventually landed on -
"Rose. I think you have an admirer."
This caused her sister to sneak a quick peek at the person Caroline was attempting to discreetly indicate towards. Just as fast as she looked at him, she looked away . . . and then she looked again, this time a bit more lingering.
Now looking straight-ahead, Rose added, "So do you."
One of Caroline's thin eyebrows shot towards her hairline. Sure enough, when she looked back down at the group of men, she noticed that the third one was giving her a look similar to his blonde-haired companion's. This difference with his, though, was that he was even easier to read. He looked shocked, as if he couldn't believe what he saw, his mouth forming an 'O' shape. It seemed as if he'd made a teasing remark and was now regretting it. A white stick (a cigarette, no doubt) was resting between a couple of his fingers, streaks of smoke floating in the air before disappearing into the sun.
Forgetting her mother's warning about staring, Caroline locked eyes with him. She noticed that he was a rather handsome gentleman, his blonde locks curly and hidden beneath a brown top hat. There was even some stubble growing on his cheeks, and . . . .
Wait. What am I doing?
She quickly looked away . . . but the temptation to look again was beginning to grow the longer she remained where she was. In hopes that she'd have a chance to get away, Caroline asked Rose, "Will you come back with me? It will only be a little while longer, and then we can take all afternoon to stroll around the decks."
When Rose didn't respond, she tacked on, "You know that Cal will come after you next if you don't, and both you and I know that is the last thing you would want."
Whether it be from the threat or not, Rose angrily turned and began to make her way back indoors, leaving her sister behind.
Rather than keep it locked-away, Caroline released a heavy sigh. She wished that her sister would stop acting so reckless. More than anything, she wished she knew what was going on inside of her mind. She knew what it felt like to have her family's financial burden and future resting on her shoulders. It had happened to her once before, and now it was happening all over again.
I can only hope that she'll open up to me.
And as Caroline began to follow her sister, she finally caved and glanced back over her shoulder. She was surprised to see the third man still gazing up at her.
Once lunch had passed, Caroline became upset when Rose dismissed her when asked if she wanted to take her up on a stroll.
She's just in a bad mood, Caroline had to remind herself. Once it passes, she'll be back to her old self in no time.
However, the young woman couldn't shake the feeling that this would not be the case for a very long time.
All she could do was hope that Rose wouldn't drown until this particular storm passed on by. And it was that very thought that made Caroline feel uneasy. Her little sister could completely lose herself, and she would be completely helpless in saving her dear Rose from the horrors she was about to be shoved straight into.
So the one thing she did to keep herself from being consumed by her anxiety was read, just as she had done countless times in the past when something greatly distressed her.
She only returned to her room for a moment to retrieve the novel that rested by her bedside before she set off in search of a place outdoors to read. However, this was much easier said than done. She could have sat on one of the many deckchairs, but they were either occupied or beside someone who would most likely push to share a conversation with her. So Caroline kept on moving, her attention set on finding the perfect place to enjoy her book.
It was near the place she'd found Rose earlier that same day that she began to have some luck. There was hardly anyone at this part of the deck. The only ones who seemed to take advantage of this were the third class passengers and some second class voyagers. There might have only been a couple or few who would be considered first class nearby.
Though there really wasn't anywhere left for her to sit, Caroline knew she had found the right spot.
She stood in front of the railing, opened her book, and began to read. It didn't take long for her to become completely immersed in the dark, inky words. They allowed her to forget that she was standing rather than sitting, forget that the breeze lightly blew some of her red locks across her face, forget that she was on the grandest ship ever built, forget all the horrible things that had happened to her, forget what waited for her in America. The only thing that mattered to Caroline was the world she had been transported to. A world full of adventure, freedom, and excitement.
It was near the end of the book when she heard someone call out, "You know, you're going to hurt yourself if you stand like that any longer."
The trance Caroline had been in was broken. Now startled, she let out a gasp as she leapt into the air. However, she didn't realize that she'd lost the grip on her book as she did this.
A thump met her ears, which was soon followed by someone giving a grunt of pain.
This sound drew Caroline's eyes downwards until she saw . . . a man. A third class passenger. The man whom she had locked sight with earlier that afternoon. And he was tenderly rubbing his head, his hat resting against his side.
"Oh my goodness! I'm so sorry, sir!" she managed to meekly to apologize. "I didn't mean to hurt you!"
He waved the hand that held his hat in her direction, face still titled downwards as he tried to relieve the pain that must have still clung to his skull. "S'alright, s'alright."
The man had an Irish accent, and it wasn't on the light side. Each and every syllable he pronounced was heavy with it.
I'd be very shocked if he claimed he wasn't an Irishman, Caroline thought to herself, wide and unblinking gaze still fixed on the man below her.
By this time, he had stopped rubbing his sore spot and gingerly placed the article of fabric atop it again. He then took a deep breath before noticing something lying on the deck. It was Caroline's book, messily splayed about. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the condition it was in. She could see that some of the pages were creased and bent in angles that made her cringe, and even noticed what looked like a scratch or a dent on one of the cover's edges.
My poor novel.
She watched as he picked her damaged possession up and made sure that the crinkled pieces of paper were as flat as they could be before carefully closing the hardcover. Now looking at her, he held the object up in the air. "I'd give it back to you, but I can't leave me part of the ship."
It took her a moment to realize that he was right. Third class passengers were not allowed up in the first and second class areas, unless they received an invitation from one of said ticket holders. She could have done just that, but she was in such a daze from what had occurred that she gave an "Of course" before slowly making her way down to his level. She checked over her shoulder to make sure no one noticed her doing so. When she concluded that she wasn't being watched, Caroline opened the white gate, closed it, and made her way down the stairway until she reached her destination.
All-the-while, the man whom she'd dropped her book on kept his eyes trained on her. She knew that he was examining her, as if he was trying to figure out what kind of being she was. It made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Caroline had many potential suitors and other members of high society look at her in a similar way. Over the years, she'd learned to let it not get to her. If she hadn't, it would have made her feel even more uneasy when someone did such.
She kept her eyes focused on the ground as she carefully took back her book, which she hugged to her chest like a security blanket. "Thank you."
There was a moment of silence before the man decided to say, "You don't like that, do you?"
This comment caused her to look up. "What do you mean?"
"You don't like people lookin' at you like a thing in a museum."
Caroline looked back down at her feet. "I don't believe that anyone does."
"But you more than anyone."
"I wouldn't necessarily say that."
"Then why won't you look at me?" The way he stated this let Caroline know that he knew he was on the right track, as if he was close to figuring out who she was. But there was also a hint of curiosity laced in his question. It was as if this was the only thing preventing him from reaching his goals.
She was now close enough to realize how real he was. From afar, the draw she felt towards him wasn't as strong as it is was this very moment. It was as if being near him made it harder for her to look and not look at the same time. He had begun to awaken something in her, something her mother wouldn't approve of. Caroline knew that it was because of this that he was dangerous. It was strange yet familiar all at once. She'd only felt such things a few years before she met her late husband. And these were feelings she knew she wasn't allowed to posses.
"It's like you pointed-out earlier: I don't like being examined like I'm a thing in a museum." She had been blunt, but she was at a point she could make things worse by not answering him or moving the conversation along by being truthful. It is why she chose the latter of her options. Caroline gave him a small smile. "But it is something that I have grown accustomed to over the years. All I can do is to try to not let it get to me."
This brought out a side grin from the man, his gaze swimming with unspoken apologies and a hint of wonderment. "You're somethin' else, you are. And I should be sayin' sorry for lookin' at you like that. I should knew better than anyone else not to."
Caroline let another smile slip. At least he had confessed, and even apologized. But, then again, she wasn't one who could get mad at those who stared. Her mother liked to remind this to her on a regular occasion. "It's perfectly alright, Mr. . . ."
"Ryan. Tommy Ryan. You?"
"Caroline DeWitt Bukater."
Tommy let loose a chuckle, which caused the corners of his eyes to crinkle. "Jesus, that's a mouthful."
"Yes, I suppose that it is."
Before either of them could say anything else, a voice from above interrupted them. "Excuse me, Miss." Both Tommy and Caroline looked at who'd spoken. It was Mr. Lovejoy, Cal's personal valet. He came of as serious as ever, everything about him indicating that he was ready to do what needed to be done. "I have come to remind you that there is a dinner you should begin readying yourself for. Your mother and Mr. Hockley have asked me to escort you back to your suite."
"Thank you, Mr. Lovejoy. I shall be up in a moment," assured Caroline.
It was then that he seemed to notice the man standing next to her. He sent him a look, one that reminded her of what someone would wear when deciding how to get rid of vermin.
Not wanting to make things more uncomfortable than they already were, Caroline quickly added, "Mr. Lovejoy, this is Mr. Ryan. He was kind enough to help me retrieve my novel, which I had accidently dropped onto his part of the ship shortly before you arrived."
She didn't know if this made things better or worse, but she felt as if she should have tried. The last thing she wanted was for someone who had been helpful to be given no more than a glance of dismissal, as if he wasn't worth the time.
"Charmed, I'm sure," was Mr. Lovejoy's flat response.
Noticing the older man's subtle-yet-not-subtle way of stating that he could care less, Tommy blew a puff of smoke from his cigarette before giving a sarcastic, yet polite, "Likewise" in response.
Knowing that there was nothing left to say, Mr. Lovejoy reminded her that it was time to leave.
Caroline gave a quick nod of her head before turning her attention back on the Irishman. She held out a hand. "Thank you again, Mr. Ryan."
"Tommy," he corrected her as they shook hands. "You can call me Tommy."
"Thank you, Tommy. It was a pleasure to have met you."
The smirk that she couldn't prevent from making an appearance was enough to make him shake his head in amusement. "Likewise," he said, this one more sincere than the one he gave Mr. Lovejoy, "Miss DeWitt Bukater."
Of course, she couldn't help but bounce back, "Caroline."
Another side grin of amusement, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Likewise, Caroline."
She gave him one last smile before joining Mr. Lovejoy. And when she glanced back over her shoulder, she noticed that Tommy was still looking at her. Just as he had earlier that same day. Only this time, she was brave enough to give him a quick wave. And this time, he waved back.
I was board the other day, so I began sorting my OCs into Hogwarts Houses. I feel as if Caroline would be in Ravenclaw. She obviously values knowledge and has a great thirst for it. I also feel like she's kind of creative, too. Oh! And I even thought about which Disney lady she's most like. I think she's most like Jane Porter. Both of them like to read, learn, and even have a sense of duty as to where they "should" belong in society. Hmmm. Maybe Caroline will listen to her heart and chose what truly makes her happy, just as Jane had? I guess we'll have to wait and see ;)
This chapter was probably not my best grammar and punctuation-wise, but I tried my best. When I have the time, I'll go back and see what I can fix. However, this probably won't be until I've finished Shooting Stars.
Child of Music and Dreams: Can I say that you have the coolest username EVER!? As for whether or not Jack and Tommy will survive, you'll honestly just have to wait and see. I have an idea as to what I want to happen for the ending, but that could easily change. So, to be honest, I'm not even sure what'll happen to them. (Sorry I can't give a better answer.)
Paul Walker's Mistress: Yay!
ZabuzasGirl: Thanks! I'm suffering a huge writer's block for A Twist. Shooting Stars is honestly an exercise to help me regain my muse. It's helping, but I still have a long way to go.
and
Team Wingless: Your review made my day :) I do own Titanic (the VHS - my favorite way to watch it - and DVD). I usually leave a disclaimer at the beginning of my work. I'm glad you like how Caroline is being portrayed. And the film was released in 1997 (oh my gosh, I feel old).