Notes: First of all, my apologies for the delay between this chapter and the last. I had to go away for two weeks on short notice and since returning I've been playing catch-up with everyday things. I have been so anxious to resume the story but had to wait until I could give it my undivided attention.

I also want to mention that even though I do not proclaim my story to be historically accurate, there are certain things I was making an attempt to be accurate with: believability and certain people involved in the true story. I mentioned a "Captain Rostrom" of the Carpathia, only to discover after I had written two chapters mentioning him that I had misspelled his name. The Captain's last name is really spelled "Rostron". I apologize for the error. For continuity purposes however, I will continue to refer to him as Captain Rostrom in this story.

Chapter 7

Caledon Hockley sat at a secluded table in the corner of the first class smoking room absently sipping a glass of brandy, replaying the events of the previous evening over and over in his head. Oddly enough, few of the recollections had to do with the actual sinking of the Titanic. All he could think of was Rose and how she had embarrassed, betrayed, and hurt him. She had the nerve to bring Jack into their suite, the two of them brazenly strolling in arm in arm. The drawing she had left for him in the safe. He bit his bottom lip and clenched the glass in his hand until he thought it might break. That piece of filth, this poor gutter rat whom she had only known for a couple of days had seen her naked while he could barely do so much as lay a hand on her without protest! The thought disgusted him.

What was it that was so special about Jack Dawson? Nothing from what he could tell. He had no money and not a place to call home. What could possibly be so appealing about that? How could Rose have thought this man could provide for her? He could almost accept it if she had fallen for someone else, someone of stature equal to his own, but not someone like Jack. To make matters worse, he had just discovered that Jack had survived the sinking and there was no sign of Rose anywhere. She had not been discovered with him and she was not aboard this ship. At least he couldn't find her if she was. He pulled a cigar from his pocket and lit up, puffing away as he pondered the possibilities. Yes, maybe Rose was indeed somewhere on this ship. As much as he wanted to believe that Jack was a selfish coward, he knew deep down that given the choice Jack would have surrendered his own life for Rose. He would have first seen to her safety, then his own. He had asked the crew of the rescue ship to send a message to her on this ship. Had he seen her off into another lifeboat? A wry smile spread across his face as he realized that was probably exactly what happened.

Yes, he was confident that Rose was somewhere on the ship and he was determined to find her. He would not lose her to Jack again. She would never know he survived. Before he even realized it was a possibility she was still alive, Cal intended to make the rest of Jack's life a living hell. Keeping the two of them apart for eternity was sufficient enough.. He put out his cigar in the ashtray and reached into his pocket for his wallet. Tucked away safely inside was a picture of Rose. He would find Rose with the help of everyone aboard and a hefty cash reward. Not to mention that necklace he thought as he recalled stuffing it along with a wad of cash into his coat pocket which he had draped over her shoulders shortly before they began boarding the lifeboats. Yes, everything that was precious to him would be retrieved before they made it to New York.

Rose and Delia spent another couple of hours carefully combing the decks of the Carpathia without any luck. Delia couldn't help but take notice at how peculiarly Rose was behaving. Granted she had probably just lost her husband, but Delia had an overwhelming feeling that Rose was hiding something. Or maybe hiding from something...or someone. She became increasingly paranoid each second and insisted they take a break every few minutes, then she would retreat into a corner and just eye the crowds of people as they walked by. She was hesitant to ask for assistance.

"Why do people keep staring at us?", Rose insisted angrily.

Delia just smiled. She knew exactly why. "Rose, calm down. I suspect they're just a little curious, that's all. Partly because they recognize you as a survivor, but also because they probably think we are twins". She reached out to Rose and with the tips of her fingers raised her chin up, coaxing Rose to look her in the eye. Rose had been too preoccupied before to notice but the two girls could very well have been twins. They were just about the same age and height though Rose was maybe an inch taller. They both possessed the same magnificent curly red locks though Rose's hair was slightly more red where Delia's was slightly more orange. For the first time, Rose also noticed that Delia spoke with a slight Irish accent and the tiny light brown freckles that decorated her cheeks and nose was another nod to her heritage. Other than that, they were identical.

"Good gracious!"Rose put her hand over her gaping mouth. "Wow...i-it's incredible!". Delia just chuckled and nodded in agreement. Rose seemed somewhat relieved, and amused, by this new realization, but still constantly looked over her shoulder as if she had felt some evil presence sneaking up behind her. She looked absolutely terrified.

"Rose", Delia began but before she could finish her sentence, she saw Rose gasp in horror before springing to her feet and running back below deck. Something or someone had frightened the hell out of her.