1897

Fifteen-year-old Caledon Hockley sighed with boredom. His father had dragged him to this stupid little town in order to show him how to make business deals. He excused himself to go to the bathroom.

When he stepped back into the sunlight outside the building after leaving the toilet, which was absolutely disgusting, he heard a child's wail. He turned to see a little boy of about five tumble over his own feet and fall on the floor. Cal sneered in disgust as the boy promptly burst into tears. Cal's own father would never have allowed such weakness. He would have dragged Cal off the floor and told him to shut up. That was the only way to teach boys how to be men.

However, the child's sobs were irritating him and so he walked over and pulled the boy roughly to his feet. "Shut up, will you?" He demanded harshly.

"You're very mean!" The child pouted. Cal rolled his eyes.

"What's your name?"

"Jack Dawson." The little boy said proudly.

"Jack!" A woman's voice called. Cal looked up to see a woman rush towards them and scoop Jack into her arms, wiping his tears. "Thank you so much for looking after him, sir." She said, looking up at Cal, who even at the age of fifteen, was an impressive six feet. She hurried away.

12th April 1912

When Cal rushed out to the deck, he first saw Rose being comforted by a crew member and then turned his attention to the man being handcuffed. He hid his surprise as a memory flashed back to him. Cal scrutinised the young man carefully. Yes, it was definitely him, the little boy from Wisconsin. Jack Dawson. Now he'd be about twenty, Cal supposed. And he had had the audacity to attack Cal's fiancée, Cal thought furiously.

15th April 1912

Cal walked around the deck of the Carpathia, desperately searching for Rose. There had been a moment when he thought he'd found her but it was just another woman with red hair.

A steward with a list of names walked past him. "Sir! Is that a survivors list?" The man nodded.

"You looking for someone, sir?"

Cal nodded "Rose Dewitt Bukater."

The man looked through his list then shook his head sorrowfully "I'm sorry, sir. She's not here."

Waves of grief crashed over Cal, overwhelming him. Rose… His knees buckled and he grabbed the side of the ship to steady himself. "What about Spicer Lovejoy?" The man checked and then again shook his head. Cal felt a tinge of guilt. He had sent Lovejoy to his death. He regretted it but the grief did not swamp him, like the news of Rose's death had.

There was one last name he had to try. Not because he wanted him to be alive, quite the opposite actually, but he had to know if that gutter rat who'd killed his fiancée, his darling Rose, had survived. "Jack Dawson?" The steward checked his list and then looked up, relieved to be able to deliver some good news at least. Or what he thought was good news.

"Yes, sir, he's on the list." Cal's blood boiled but he forced himself to fake a relieved smile.

"Thank you, sir." He walked away, not entirely sure where he was going. He wandered aimlessly, his thoughts focused on Rose.

A little while later, he saw a familiar man standing with his back to him at the rail. Jack Dawson. He strode towards him and grabbed him by the shoulder. Cal was shocked when he saw Jack's face. the laughing optimistic young man of only yesterday was gone. The pain on Jack's face almost made Cal turn away. The only thing that made him able to face Jack was his own pain and grief.

"What happened to Rose?" They both flinched at her name.

"Why do you care? You woulda rather seen her dead than with me." Jack snarled bitterly. At his words, something in Cal snapped and he grabbed Jack's collar "Don't you ever say that, Dawson. I was angry and it was you I wanted dead."

"I wish you'd got your wish." Jack snapped.

"You didn't answer my question. What happened to her?" Cal demanded. Jack stayed silent. Why should he tell Cal what had happened to her? He didn't even deserve that.

"If you don't tell me, I'm going to assume that you killed her." Cal threatened. Jack's face twisted in fury "I would never hurt her! Unlike you."

Cal ignored the last part "Well if you won't tell me, what else am I supposed to think?" Jack knew he was falling into a trap and he didn't care.

"There was a door, in the water, there was only room for one of us, so I stayed in the water."

"Jack, you have to try again! Please!" Rose begged. Jack shook his head.

"I won't risk your life Rose."

"But you'll risk your own?" Rose countered.

"Your life is far more important to me than my own, Rose."

But Rose wouldn't give in. In one quick motion, she slid off the door back into the frozen water. "Rose! Get back on the door, please." He pleaded with her.

"I'll get back on when you do. You jump, I jump, remember?"

"You get back up first, and then I will." Jack promised, knowing there was no other way to get her back on the door, out of the water. Satisfied, Rose dragged herself back onto the door and gingerly Jack followed, hanging onto the very edge of the door until he was sure it was stable. Then he wrapped his arms around Rose, pulling her close to him, to protect her as best he could. But he couldn't protect her from the cold. She shivered despite his desperate attempts to keep her warm. It killed him that she was in this pain to be with him and that there was nothing he could do.

"It'll be alright, Rose, it'll be alright." He murmured comfortingly.

What seemed like years later, Jack felt the light of a torch on his face. A lifeboat had come back, Rose was gonna be alright. He didn't give a thought to his own survival. Jack moved his face from where it was buried in her hair and turned her face towards him. Fear sliced through his heart when he saw how still and pale she was, her eyelashes covered with ice. But she wasn't dead, she couldn't be dead. "Rose, there's a boat!" He whispered. No answer. "Rose!" He shook her gently. Still nothing. "Rose, please, wake up, please!" Jack begged her but her eyes didn't open and he couldn't see the frosty cloud of her breath. She was gone. The truth hit him all at once, like a knife ripping into his heart and he howled in agony. "No!" Rose was gone, her fire quenched by the icy waters.

Jack buried his face back in her scarlet curls sobbing with no intention of attracting the attention of the lifeboat. There was no point to life without Rose. He couldn't live in a world that she was not in.

But his howl had been heard by the men in the lifeboat and they rowed towards him. Jack took no notice of them, too destroyed by his grief. One man saw him move though and they grabbed his shoulders. He tried to fight them, but the cold had stolen all strength from him. "No! Please, I can't abandon her, I promised her she'd be alright! I love her! No!" Jack cried, but all that came from his throat was a strangled whimper. He clung to Rose but despite his struggles, they pulled him into the lifeboat away from Rose.

Tears dripped down both of their faces, the pain of losing Rose destroying them both. Jack turned and walked away. They had nothing more to say to each other.

15th April 1916

Cal staggered into a bar, desperate to forget. Memories of Rose, Rose laughing, smiling, dancing shouting, crying whirled through his head. And worse still were the imaginings he could see of her frozen, cold, dead. "Forgive me, Rose." He muttered, sitting down on a bar stool, and slamming down money on the table for a drink.

"I think it's a bit late for that." His head snapped up and there was Jack, watching him through drunken eyes.

"You." Cal narrowed his eyes.

"Me." Jack looked almost the same physically as he had four years ago but everything else about him had changed. He was no longer the cheerful young man on Titanic, but he wasn't quite the same man he had had been on Carpathia either. He didn't sit up straight anymore, instead he sat hunched over his drink, which clearly wasn't his first. He had never recovered from Rose's death four years ago. Neither had Cal, but he had never known Rose as well as Jack had. Cal wasn't sure whether or not he was jealous of this, seeing the state Jack was in.

Cal had thrown himself into his work after a month, but Jack hadn't had any work to distract him from his grief. He had clearly spent the last four years in bars just like this one. Thinking that though, Cal couldn't see Jack trying to forget his grief, he could only see Jack drowning in his grief.

"What are you doing here?"

"I wasn't aware this was your bar, Hockley." His voice startled Cal a bit, in its slightly slurred, hopeless tone.

"This may come as a surprise to you Dawson, but I don't own the world."

"Really? I was under the impression you did."

"What happened to 'make each day count'?" Cal gestured to the half empty – Cal had never been an optimistic person, well maybe he had been with Rose, but those times were long gone- glass in front of Jack.

"Rose died." They both flinched. "I have nothing to make it count for anymore." Jack saw the ring on Cal's ring finger. "I see you got married. Rose was so easy to replace for you, wasn't she?" He hadn't lost his ability to see people, he knew that wasn't true, but he was angry, and he didn't care.

Cal glared at him "I don't expect you to understand. I had to marry, to carry on the Hockley line. You've never had those kinds of expectations on you."

"No, I haven't." Jack shook his head. "But I still know I could never marry again." He said contemptuously.

"You were never married to Rose. I came closer to marrying her than you ever did." Cal lashed out. Jack narrowed his eyes at him "I didn't marry her legally, but I did."

Something inside Cal twisted at the reminder that Rose had loved Jack far more than she had ever loved him. This time, he was the one to turn and walk away. As he did so, a photo of Rose fell out of his pocket. Jack snatched it up from the ground.

15th April 1922

Cal stepped out of the building during the break in his business meeting. He sat smoking for several minutes gazing at nothing in particular, just gazing out on the park. Without realising he watched a blond man lying, unconscious Cal assumed, face down on a bench.

The man had caught someone else's attention, an old man who hurried over to him. The old man shook his shoulders, gently at first, then with more urgency. When he got no response, he turned the man over. When Cal saw the man's face, he got a shock as he recognised him. Dawson.

His lips were blue and his eyes were closed. As Cal watched, the old man held in front of Jack's mouth to see if he was breathing. But Cal could see the truth from where he was. Jack was dead. Dead from hypothermia, exactly ten years after Titanic. The irony was not lost on Cal. The old man shook Jack's shoulders one last time in one last attempt to wake him up. It was futile.

I always win, Jack, Cal thought but then shook his head. Wherever Jack was now, he was with Rose. Jack had won.

The old man had gathered a few other men to carry Jack's body away. As they did, a piece of paper fell out of Jack's jacket pocket and fluttered to the ground. During its fall to the ground, it turned so for a second Cal saw that it was a photo of Rose. It was the photo that he had lost six years ago when it had fallen out of his pocket. Cal lunged forward and picked up the photo. He hesitated for a moment and then ran after the men carrying Jack's body away. "Wait!"

They turned to look at him in confusion. "This fell out of his pocket." He said as explanation, holding out the photo. One of the men took the photo from him and placed it back in Jack's pocket and then closed the pocket to prevent it from falling out again. He nodded his thanks to Cal and then they walked away.