Disclaimer: I do not own any original plots by James Cameron or history.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
As the weeks began to pass, Rose's appetite grew along with her stomach. She found work as a waitress at the little café Harry took her to that first day. And, just like she suspected, he remained by her side throughout all of it. He came over more frequently now, nearly everyday.
On some days, Harry was dreadfully tired. He woke long before the sun and worked until it sank into the ocean. He came to see Rose nonetheless, no matter how exhausted or cranky he was. Rose had a way about her; something Harry gathered she inherited from her father the way she talked about him. She could make Harry feel at ease and make all the sorrows and harrows of the day wash away so he wouldn't give them a second thought. He liked that quality about her, loved it even. Harry found himself growing increasingly fond of Rose, more and more each day until it reached the point where he couldn't bare going a day without seeing or speaking to her. She and her forthcoming child were constantly on his mind. He'd made them the center of his life. Though the baby obviously wasn't his, Harry couldn't wait for the child's arrival. He wanted to help Rose raise he or she when the baby came.
Rose entered her ninth month of pregnancy, her sixth month in California. She knew the baby would be here any day now, but still the young woman pushed on. Rose wanted to get in to work as much as she could. She knew money would be tight after the baby came, even with the money she saved up. She sympathy for the baby. He or she would never know its father like she had. Rose's father William was the first person in her life to understand and love her for who she was. Ruth always wished Rose would be something she wasn't. Rose often thought of her mother in the early days after Titanic, but rarely now. What was she doing now? Was Ruth still mooching off the Hockley family? Ruth DeWitt-Bukater was alone in the world; but she belonged with people like the Hockleys. Her daughter did not. Rose was right where she belonged. She was sorry Jack wouldn't be there to support and believe in their child like her father was for her. Rose knew Jack would have enjoyed raising a baby. Their child would never personally know his father. The thought broke Rose's heart. She would see to it her child had a father, however, and she saw that sort of figure in Harry.
Harry traveled into town one afternoon to visit with Rose on her brief lunch break. He smiled when he saw her through the front window, shuffling back and forth on her tired, swollen feet. She was at the counter now, adding up a ticket, when Harry surprised her from behind.
"Surprise!" he whispered in her ear.
"Harry! I wasn't expecting you until later!"
"I wanted to surprise you. Are you on break?"
"Give me just a moment."
Harry settled himself at a table near the front window, basking in the sunlight that streamed in. He watched Rose as she checked on a few more customers, offering them more coffee or warm chocolate. Finally she poured two mugs of the hot liquid before joining Harry.
"How is work?" she wondered.
"Slow today. Are you almost through?"
"Yes," Rose nodded. "Albert is allowing me to leave early on account of my appointment this afternoon."
"Hopefully one of your last, huh?" Harry and Rose both smiled.
"Harry…" Rose began. "Would you help me raise this child? I realize it isn't your own and it may seem awkward at the beginning. I'll understand if you don't want too. I just don't --"
"Rose, nothing would make me happier"
The two of them chatted about the baby until the both of them reluctantly returned to work. Rose departed from the café early in the afternoon. She opted to walk to her doctor's office, despite her tired feet, located a mere five blocks away. She tucked her hands into her coat pockets, setting out on her journey. Along the way Rose thought about how cold it would be in New York at that time of early. Early January in Santa Monica, though there was a distinct chill to the air, was no worse then the Big Apple would have been on a brisk fall day. Soon, her thoughts drifted to Molly. Rose wondered how she was getting along. Just fine, no doubt, as Margaret Brown was a woman who could bounce back from anything almost in an instant. The last time Rose heard from her friend was in the first few days of December, when she received a lovely gift and birthday card from her. Rose's eighteenth birthday came and went. Harry's surprise to her of a small cake and a book she'd been longing to read as well as Molly's gift were the only positives. Beyond those tiny things the day was just like any other. Jack surely would have been twenty one by now. Rose thought about him so often,. She questioned in her mind if he was a winter baby like herself and their child both were. Jack never did tell her his birthday. Tears rolled down Rose's cheeks when she realized yet again how little she had actually known about Jack Dawson. Yet what she learned about him in those few short days was enough for her to know she wanted to spend the rest of eternity with him.
Rose wiped her eyes dry with the sleeve of her coat. She yanked open the hospital door roughly, suddenly in a different mood. But when she stepped into the waiting area, her pain became joy as she learned what was waiting.
"Rose Dawson! Don't you have any common sense left, young lady? Everyone knows very well a woman as far along as yourself should not be out of bed, let alone walking around the city by herself!"
Rose was ready to curse the person who was giving her a speech something similar to what her mother would have said, but when she saw who delivered the words a great smile crossed her lips.
"Molly Brown! What are you doing in California?"
"What am I doing here? Really, Rose, you'd think I didn't know anyone out here the way you talk!"
"You didn't come out here just to see me, did you? How did you know I'd be here?"
"Dr. Watson here is in contact with Dr. Mercer. "
"Oh, really? How did that come about?"
"Let's just say a little birdie."
"Does that little birdie go by the name of Molly?"
Margaret Brown laughed her huge booming laugh. "You caught me! You never said too much about the child in your letters, just some dashing young man. I had to know how you were coming along."
Rose's cheeks turned the color of her fiery red hair. "My apologies. Harry's helped me a great deal since I've been here. I really do owe quite a bit to him. I'm so glad to see you, however."
" As am I. Let's not keep Dr. Watson waiting, hm?"
Dr. Watson told Rose what she was longing to hear. He couldn't be one hundred percent positive, but he was almost certain that her child was well on its way to entering the world. In fact, he would be surprised if she wasn't back in the hospital by the end of the week. Molly was excited to hear the news. She was shocked by how large Rose was at first. The last mental image she had of the teenager was of a slim figure in a much-to-large dress the day she left for California. Now she would be here for the arrival of Rose's baby! Molly was fairly certain Rose wouldn't let her offer a penny, but Molly would make up for that in other ways. She was, after all, a mother herself, and knew how to handle these things.
When Rose's appointment ended, the two of them caught a taxi back to Rose's apartment. Harry was there waiting for her, but he hadn't anticipated her bringing along company. Rose introduced her best friend to the man she was so very fond of. Mrs. Brown instantly saw why Rose became so attached to Mr. Calvert. He looked strikingly close to Jack Dawson. Their features were so similar… if Molly didn't know better she would have swore that Harry Calvert was Jack Dawson's long lost brother. Harry prepared dinner for the three of them while the women chatted, catching up on the latest between the two of them. Over supper, Molly complimented Harry on his wonderful cooking. Rose smiled, thankful that the two people who meant the most to her at that moment were both together finally and acting as though they known each other for years. After dinner was over, Molly offered to clean up so Rose could tell Harry how her doctor appointment went. She'd put off the subject, but a curious Harry wanted to know how things went.
Before Rose could go any further into detail about her visit with the doctor, she felt a sudden sharp pain in her side. She let out a small yelp like a scolded child and clutched her abdominal area with both of her hands. The look of pain on her face worried Harry greatly. He flew across the short distance between him and Rose and was at her side before Molly could blink. The dishes were left in the wash basin unnoticed as Molly joined the two of them on the sofa.
"Rose, honey, what is it?" wondered Harry.
"I…it hurts…." was all she could choke out. "S-s-so bad!"
Harry frantically passed his eyes from Rose to Molly… searching her face for answers. Mrs. Brown checked all of Rose's symptoms, nodding to herself. Harry watched her doing so.
"W-well? What's wrong with her?"
"Rose is going in to labor, Harry."
"Shouldn't we get her to see a doctor?"
"She'll never make it in her current state! No, you must go fetch him. My man and my car are both downstairs. Tell him to take you."
"Can't I send someone for him?"
"No, you must go. Hurry, Harry!"
The young man sent a worried glance in Rose's way before hurrying off. Margaret tended to Rose. When the young girl was calm enough to speak better, she told Molly she had something to tell her.
"Molly, you must not speak of Jack to Harry."
"Why not, Rose?"
"Harry doesn't know anything about him, beyond the fact that he is the father of my child and he is gone. But please, don't say anything!"
"You must tell him. He has a right to know."
"I know…. I-I just can't tell him. Not yet. Please, Molly? I'm asking you as a friend."
"All right. Not a word about Jack Dawson to Mr. Calvert."
"Why the formalities?" questioned Rose, with a slight smile on her face.
Molly chuckled at Rose's ability to make light of the situation. "You remind me so much of myself at your age. Not a word of Jack to Harry. Okay?"
"Thank you, Molly."
About half an hour after he left, Harry arrived with Dr. Watson in tow. Molly burst through the bedroom door, ready to curse up a storm for Harry taking so long.
"My apologies, Mrs. Brown. I was dining with my wife this evening when Mr. Calvert informed me of Miss Dawson's current state."
"Thank you for coming, Dr. Watson. Miss Dawson is in the bedroom." Margaret showed the doctor into Rose's room. Harry wasn't invited. He, instead, paced Rose's living room nervously. He bit his lip, ran his hand through his shaggy blonde hair several times. Before he knew it the hours began passing, slowly at first, but he busied himself with the dishes. When they were dried and put away he found other various chores Rose had yet to do. Her small apartment was thoroughly cleaned before Harry even realized he cleaned the entire thing from ceiling to floor. With nothing left to do, Harry's mind soon wandered to Rose's soon-to-be born child. Harry ventured into his or her room. Would it be a girl? Would it be a boy? He meant to ask Rose what she thought she would have, and what she wanted to name him or her. He'd been so busy, it slipped his mind more than once. Rose did the child's room in neutral colors. It was more furnished then her own room, which contained only her bed, a night stand, her dresser, and the bench he bought her. Rose, Rose, Rose… her name sounded like sweet honey to his mind. He could see himself spending the rest of his life with her, if she'd let him. He knew she wanted to do many things with her life yet, and he didn't object to any of it. Many people thought a woman with ambitions ought to stay at home in the parlor entertaining guests, planning out dinner menus, and practicing her needlework. Rose had a fire in her, a fire that sparked his own. She wanted to go experience things before she settled down in one place. She was so young… only eighteen but Harry loved her. He thought some people used the word too liberally. In his twenty-five years the only woman he found himself saying the words to was his mother years ago. Rose was different from other women…
A sudden outburst in the bedroom next door shook him from his thoughts. Following shortly Harry heard a loud cry.
"Harry?"
He hurried into the living area, where Molly was waiting for him. He stood there, his face a pale white, his hair tousled, his shirt wrinkly.
"You look like you just survived a wind storm!" Molly's laughter filled the room.
"Can I see her? How's the baby?"
"She wants to see you." Molly stepped to the side, allowing for Harry to enter the bedroom. "See for yourself, hm?"
When Harry stepped into the bedroom, Dr. Watson was just placing the last of his medical tools into his bag. He found Rose lying in the simple bed she found at a used store. In her arms, wrapped tightly in a white blanket, was a little bundle. She grinned at Harry. He stepped closer, but at the same time kept his distance. Rose held out her hand for Harry.
"He's just a baby. He won't bite."
"He?"
Rose nodded. "Mmm-hmm. It's a boy, Harry!"
Rose pulled the blanket back a bit from the child's face so Harry could see. A small round face was underneath.
"He looks so peaceful… he's beautiful, dear."
"What's his name, Rose?" wondered Molly. Rose looked at Molly, almost afraid to see 'that' name in front of Harry. She had to get used to it, however, because she would be saying it nearly every day for the rest of her life.
"Jack. Jack Thomas Dawson."
"What a good, strong name for such a little boy. You've got a name to grow into little man," Harry told him. He sat beside Rose and the baby on her bed, now more comfortable around the both of them.
"Thomas was my father's middle name," Rose said. "And after Mr. Andrews, of course."
"That's wonderful! Truly!" exclaimed Molly. Mrs. Brown had been as fond of the shipbuilder as Rose. She was heartbroken when she heard he had perished with his beautiful floating palace. "I'm sure he would be honored to have your child named after him."
"I miss him… and my father," stated Rose.
"I'm sorry they were both taken away, Rose, but you have a beautiful little child here now with you to take care of and to love. He will always love you, no matter what."
"He will, won't he? He's so beautiful… he looks like…" Rose was about to say the baby looked like his father, Jack, but couldn't in front of Harry.
"Who? Who does he look like?"
"Like me when I was a child, from what I've seen in photographs."
Harry kissed her forehead. "I'm sure he does. You did good, Rosie."
Molly decided that moment would be the best time to take her leave. She said goodbye to the over-joyed youngsters, promising to come back the next day when Rose was rested and her child was more awake.
