A/N Big thanks to SapphireEyes06 & MirrorFlower and DarkWind for taking the time to review, i really do appreciate it. :) So Here's chapter 14, it's a bit longer than previous chapters i've written, but i hope you enjoy all the same. Please please remember to review, give your opinion! Thanks! :)

Chapter 14 Healing

The back door slammed loudly and my head shot up from the novel in my lap to the clock on the wall. It was 1:45 in the morning, and Rosalinda had finally returned home.

I decided to chance a glance in her direction, knowing very well that I would not like, or appreciate what I saw. I flinched inwardly as I took in my daughters appearance.

She had not been home in nearly a week again, and arrived home in the same clothes that she had left in. They were now stained with dirt, grass, grime, and it seemed various foods. Her fiery hair was pulled back in a very messy bun, and it was apparent that she had not washed, or combed her hair in a very long time. Her face was also extremely dirty, and her mint green eyes shone with… Joy? No, that couldn't be right. She was never joyful. Unless…

"Morning mummy! Where's Jack? I have some very important news for him!" Rosa slurred and stumbled over each syllable.

It was as I had suspected, she had been drinking heavily, and clearly was not in a sober state of mind. The cheerfulness immediately made more sense.

"Jack's not here Rosa. He has left for Europe, weeks ago already. You won't be seeing him again for a very long time." I told her. My voice rang out cold and harsh in the quiet room.

I knew I was being a bit unnecessarily harsh, but I did not appreciate her showing up home in a drunken stupor at nearly 2 am after not knowing where she had been for a week. It definitely wasn't the first time she had done this though, and it was getting very tiresome for myself.

Rosa stared at me, with no comprehension what so ever in her glazed over eyes.

I sighed irritably. "Go to bed Rosalinda. It's late." I ordered.

"You, you can't tell me what to do! I'm 19 years old, and I can do whatever I god damn please!" Rosa yelled angrily at me.

Yes, despite all odds, and popular opinion (from our unbelievably nosey neighbours) Rosa had made it to see her 19th birthday, which coincidently had been today.

I didn't respond, just pursed my lips, making it clear that my orders were not up for debate.

She glared at me for a few moments, then spun around on her heel and stumbled her way into the kitchen. She then clanged around in the cupboards until she found a glass. She filled it with water and took a sip, slopping it all over herself in the process.

She paused for a moment, and I continued to watch her intensely.

Suddenly, she burst into a fit of hysterical laughter, and threw her glass against the kitchen wall, it shattered, and jagged pieces fell everywhere. She continued to laugh, and laugh, as she turned back towards me. I could see the hurt clear in her eyes, and soon her hysterical laughter turned to hysterical sobs as she fell to the floor on her knees.

I watched her sit there sobbing, her head placed in her hands, then I slowly got up and walked over to her.

"Rosa, come on." I said softly as I helped her off of the kitchen floor, and lead her down the hallway to her bedroom. I then tucked in my sobbing daughter, and left her to sleep of the alcohol, hoping desperately that this was a turning point, and that I would actually be able to speak with Rosa civilly in the morning.

000

The next morning I was cooking breakfast when I heard a door creak open down the hall. I knew that it could be any one of my children awakening, but I hoped it was Rosa. I was hoping we would be able to talk in private, before anyone else was awake. To my surprise, and delight, it was her that had awoken, and she sauntered into the kitchen yawning.

"Good morning Rosa." I greeted her quietly as I set down some plates on the oak kitchen table.

Even though I had tried to speak quietly, she winced and a hand fluttered up to her forehead.

"God, I feel terrible." She muttered under her breath.

"Have a bite to eat. It will help." I told her, for I had my share of experience with hangovers.

She smiled slightly and nodded as she took a seat at the table.

"Then we need to talk." I added, more seriously.

Her smile quickly turned into a frown.

Once she had finished, and I had cleared away the dishes, we both moved over to the sitting room sofa. It was silent for a few brief moments as I wondered where on earth to start. I could see that she was waiting for me to start yelling at her again, as I had done so many times before, and believe me half of me wanted to do just that. But the other half of me wanted to talk civilly and figure out what had honestly been going on in my daughters head. I listened to that half as I began.

"Rosalinda Marie Calvert, what in this world has gotten into you? These past few months have been an unbelievable hell for me, and the rest of your siblings. We never know where you are, you don't inform me of any of the choices you're making." I paused for a moment. "Care to explain?" I questioned my eldest daughter seriously.

Rosa grimaced slightly as she opened her mouth to begin her explanation. "I'm so sorry mum. Unbelievably sorry, truly. It was just, when Jack left I was so hurt, I- I needed to do something to stop the pain, to stop the hurt, and I knew that alcohol would work. I knew it would numb my mind, and the pain, the unbearable pain…" Rosa trailed off.

I pulled my eyebrows together, a look of confusion placed upon my features as I listened, and tried to understand, but I couldn't. I could not quite grasp why Jack leaving had hurt her so much more than anyone else. I opened my mouth to ask her this question, which was nagging at my brain, but she seemed to read my thoughts.

"It hurt me so much more than the others when he left mum. Because not long after dad died, we shared a particularly emotional conversation. He told me, and assured me that he would never leave. I told him I was afraid of losing everyone that I had ever cared about after dad passed, and he told me that no matter what, he would always be here. But he was the first one to leave. The one that I cared about most, and the first to leave." Rosa explained, answering my un-asked question.

A tear escaped from my eye and slid silently down my cheek as I remember the passing of my late husband Charles, and then of the night my Jack had died. Froze to death in the below freezing temperatures of the North Atlantic Ocean.

I realised at that moment that there was an absolute truth to her statement, 'the one I cared about most and the first to leave.' My Jack Dawson, the one that I had loved and cared about unconditionally with all of my very soul and being was one of the first major losses I had ever suffered. (Along with my father.) Charles had been the second love of my life, and he too was gone now.

I looked at my daughter then with new eyes, nothing but love and understanding in my expression. She, like I had lost a father so young. Now she had lost a brother too. Not loss in the exact same sense of course, but he had promised to always be here for her, and he clearly wasn't now.

"I understand completely, darling. The ones that we care about the absolute most, the ones that we would die for ourselves are usually the first to leave us. That's just how life works." I told Rosa softly.

She looked at me, a hint of anger reflected in her mint green eyes. "Well, life is stupid." She replied flatly.

"I agree. Life can be stupid, and unpredictable. But we just have to learn to take life as it comes at us, and make each day count. You never know what hand you're going to get dealt next." I said. I smiled slightly, and chuckled, remembering when Jack had given that exact same speech that night to my class of people at the first class dinner, nearly 33 years ago. I remembered how handsome he had looked that night, with his hair slicked back, and in that tux Molly Brown had lent him. His bright blue eyes had shone with delight as I made my way down the grand staircase in my evening gown, and he had kissed my gloved hand gently…

"Mum?"

I was snapped out of the memory, pulled back into the present day. I gave myself a moment to pout. The past had been so much better! I had been young, and beautiful. (Not that I didn't consider myself to be beautiful now, and not to sound self centered, but I was clearly aging. Nobody stays young forever.) Jack had been alive, and we had been so happy…

I looked at Rosalinda apologetically.

"I know mum, you're right. I know you have had your experience with loss, and I take your word for it. I'm sorry mum, for the loss of the man, and the life that you wanted, and I'm sorry about my rebellious behaviour. I will never behave in that manner again, I promise. I just snapped. Now that I've talked about it though, I think I can begin the healing process." Rosa said to me.

I smiled kindly in response to her words. "Thank you Rosa, for your sympathy. If you ever need to talk, I, and anyone else in this family would be here to listen."

She nodded, "am I forgiven then?" She asked me curiously.

"Yes, for the time being."

She smiled nervously at that. "I'll try my best not to get into anymore trouble."

"Good, I'm glad."

She glanced at the clock on the wall then. "Oh shoot! I need to go. I'm late, my shift started 10 minutes ago!" Rosa exclaimed rushing from the room to change into her waitress uniform and grab her keys.

"Bye mum! I'll be home right after my shift, I promise! I love you!" She called to me with a smile. The first genuine smile I had seen placed upon her face since the week before Jack had left. A smile that actually touched her eyes.

"See you later darling!" I called back as I heard the front door slam.

The healing process would be a long, slow road. But it had in fact begun, and I was quite relieved to say the least.

0000

The house was quiet that afternoon, it seemed that every one of my children had made plans on this beautiful Sunday. It was April 15th, the anniversary of the sinking, and my first born son's birthday.

I called him and left a quick birthday message on his machine, telling him to return my call once he got the chance.

I spent the rest of the day with my Jack, my lovely Jack Dawson, back in the halls of Titanic. I relived my ocean of memories, memories so clear, that sometimes I forgot they weren't really happening, that I was no longer 17, and that Jack was no longer here.

I longed for my Jack. For his touch, for his face, I couldn't wait to see him once again, at the grand staircase.

Of course, I would never commit suicide, I could never possibly do that to my children, or to Jack. He had told me he would look after me, and make sure that I died an old lady, warm in my bed.

I could do nothing but wait. Wait for my eternity with my Jack Dawson.

I still had a long wait ahead of me I knew, but I could do it, and I would do it. For Jack.