Hey, guys! I know, I know, I haven't updated in over a month. With school starting, volleyball literally every day, and a ton of homework, I really hadn't thought about it at all! I made this chapter extra long to try to make up for it. This is the final chapter! All the suspense is over! Well, there's still the epilogue and author's note left, but still. ANYWAY, don't forget to review! Thanks, and enjoy! :)

Jack wandered the streets of New York, wondering where he could have gone wrong. What about his confessions of love were so unappealing? Both Rose and Lizzie had fled when he told them how he felt.

Except Rose came back for you, said a meddlesome voice in his head. But there's no sign of Lizzie, now is there?

It had only been a few hours since he had last seen her, yet he missed her already. Her perfect green eyes, her long blond curls, her demanding yet sweet personality...he crumpled onto a bench in Central Park, hating the world.

Yet he couldn't seem to get her out of his mind. She had shown him the entire city just a few days ago, so everywhere he went, he remembered going with her. She had looked relaxed and happier that day then she had ever looked with Brock...why had she chosen such a heartless man over Jack?

That's it, Jack. He told himself firmly. You're leaving. You can't stay here and wallow in self-pity. You're going to go back to their apartment, get your stuff, and take the next train out of here. At this point, he didn't care where it took him, as long as it was a one-way ticket.

Jack slowly began the long trek back to their apartment. He got a few inquiring looks on the way, as if people were trying to figure out where they had seen him before. "Mommy, mommy, it's the frozen man!" one kid shrieked excitedly, pointing a fat finger. A few people looked up in interest, but Jack merely responded, "No hablo Ingles. Que pasa?" They looked away in disappointment, continuing to walk in the haughty-yet-purposeful way that only New Yorkers could pull off.

Eventually, Jack reached Brock and Lizzie's apartment. He wondered bitterly if they would be getting married anytime soon, and just hoped that Brock didn't become physically abusive like Cal had been. Not even pausing to think about what he would do if they were home, he reached for the door handle.

"Jack!" an anguished cry echoed down the hall. He looked up to see none other than Lizzie flying at him, lugging a ratty suitcase over her shoulder, her face streaked with tears.

"What..?" he started to ask, but before he could complete the question, she leapt into his arms and he was muffled by her hair.

"Oh Jack, I'm so sorry about before! I was out of my mind, not picking you right away, Brock got drunk and went insane, he wrecked the apartment and I just grabbed some of my things and ran, but then I realized you might come back here and I had to warn you-" she paused for breath and looked up into his eyes, panting.

"I ran all the way back here to find you, I didn't want Brock to hurt you...Jack, let's just run away! Right now! It doesn't matter where we go, let's just get away from all the pesky reporters, the publicity, everything! That is, if you...if you still want me," she ended uncertainly, looking down at her feet.

Jack thought about how she had broken his heart and run back to Brock, causing him endless hours of anguish...But then he thought about how she had shielded him from the reporters pesky questions and prying eyes, how she had stuck up for him when no one else had, how she had run all the way back here to protect him from Brock, and how he had loved her since the minute he saw her.

"I just have one question," he said slowly. Lizzie waited apprehensively. "What's the fastest way to the train station?"

Her face broke into a smile. He started chuckling, and suddenly they were both laughing their heads off. "C'mon," Lizzie choked, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes and grabbing his hand. "Let's go!"

Brock's POV

Brock woke up with his cheek pressed against the cold hardwood floor. His head ached terribly, and all his limbs felt like jelly. "Jesus, I hate hangovers," he mumbled, getting up to look for an aspirin.

Suddenly, he noticed his surroundings, and stopped dead, mouth agape. It looked as though a tornado had swept through their kitchen. Dishes of food were smashed on the floor, the kitchen table was lying on it's side, and a Bloody Mary was spilled everywhere, remnants of it slowly dripping from a shattered crystal glass. The scariest part of all of it, however, was that Brock had no recollection of this whatsoever.

"Lizzie?" he called, trying to stop his voice from quivering. "Babe? You here?" He realized that no one was here apart from him and the mangled remains of their dinner.

Think, Brock, think! he commanded, sitting down and rubbing his face vigorously with his hands. Then, as though he had been hit by a tidal wave, the events of the past twenty-four hours rushed over him.

Arguing with Lizzie, yelling at Jack, hearing Jack confess his love, getting drunk, and...with horror, he realized who had demolished the kitchen and drove Lizzie out of the house.

"What have you done, Brock?" he whispered. Hastily pulling out his phone, he checked the time. 7:18. He felt a moment's relief...until he saw the two letters next to the numbers. AM. It was 7:18 in the morning. He had been passed out the entire night.

Brock dashed to the door and yanked it open, preparing to scour the entire city for Lizzie, not caring that his clothes were rumpled and dirty or that he smelled like alcohol. Before he could figure out where to go, however, he noticed a note pinned to the door. Noticing Lizzie's handwriting, he eagerly ripped it off and held it close to his face.

Dear Brock,

I'm so sorry that things didn't work out for us. I really did love you, you know. But things hadn't felt right between us since Jack showed up, and last night's episode was just a little too much.

Jack and I have boarded a 10:00pm train. If the reporters ask (I know you want to know what to say to them, seeing as publicity is all you care about), just say that we eloped and are currently traveling the world, and would appreciate it if they respected our privacy. Also, please tell the team of oceanologists that I am resigning.

I know you were drunk last night and didn't mean any of it, and there are no hard feelings, I promise. But next time you want to marry a girl, try to care about her a little more, and fame and fortune a little less. Please don't try to find us. Again, no hard feelings, and I wish you the best of luck in life. Good-bye.

Love, Elizabeth

Tears dripped steadily onto the paper that was shaking in Brock's hands. There was no possible way to find them now. She was really gone. His eyes roved over the paper once again. Love, Elizabeth. She only used her full name with acquaintances.

In a daze, he dressed and got ready for work, as if sticking to his normal schedule might somehow make her reappear. He took the subway even though it was a longer ride, because he couldn't stand to see the empty space in the parking garage where her car had been.

"Morning, Brock!" Josh said brightly as Brock walked into the hustle and bustle of the work room. "You and Lizzie got things all worked out about Jack's interview, then?"

At this, the mention of such a trivial little interview that had ultimately led to their fight and the breakup, Brock couldn't hold it in anymore: he burst into tears. In order to avoid the stares, he retreated to his office and crumpled to the floor behind his desk, knocking the picture of him and Lizzie off of the wall.

There was a tentative knock at the door. "Brock?" Josh's apprehensive voice came from around the corner. "Uh, is something wrong?"

Brock took a deep breath, stood up, and glared at Joshua with all the bravado that he could muster. "Lizzie left, that's what's wrong. She eloped with the damn frozen man. They took a train out of here and they're never coming back." He could no longer keep his composure, and burst into noisy sobs again, hunching over his desk.

"Oh, man," Josh looked stunned. "This...this is huge. What will the reporters-"

"I DON'T CARE WHAT THE REPORTERS WILL SAY, JOSH!" Brock roared. "This is my life we're talking about here!"

Josh was quiet for a minute. "Well...maybe you should take some time off." Brock looked up at him skeptically. "No, I'm serious! You've worked at the same place everyday for way too long. You're a workaholic, buddy! Go see the world, have some fun, and when you're done with that, find a woman who appreciates you and settle down. Lizzie's probably very happy right now, and you deserve to be, too."

Brock gave him a watery smile. "That's probably the smartest stuff you've ever said, Josh." He thought for a minute. "Alright, I'll do it! I'm resigning officially. I deserve to have some fun."

He walked out of the office without a backward glance, pausing only in the main part of the building. People were poring over a diagram of a ship. He continued on his way, but continued to look back at the ship until he exited the building. It was the ship where all of this had started, nearly a century before, and it was in a research lab dedicated to the ship where everything ended.

The Titanic.

Don't worry, there's an epilogue. I wouldn't just leave it hanging like that! The epilogue and author's note will be up sometime within the next week! I would do it tomorrow, but I have a volleyball game that's an hour away, so I doubt I'll have time. Thanks for sticking with me till the end, guys! And don't forget to review, as it's one of your last opportunities!