Thank you so much for the love and reviews. I live and breathe this at the moment and intend for it to be a pretty long story, and am super excited and hope the differences between the movie and my version are embraced :)

Chapter three:

It was truly terrifying to see a young woman in such distress, dangling from the back of the Titanic, with just a dim light up above them. At initial glance, Jack had believed her to be a steerage passenger, lost or perhaps, erratic, judging by the breathing, suppression of sobs and the sounds of her feet but as soon as she had passed, with the fine silken threads of her gown trailing behind like a ghostly bride, he had known that the girl was certainly one of his peers.

For a woman, assuming unmarried, to be out on decks alone at night, especially with Jack around was surely enough to ruin her. Of course, to him, none of that mattered. The societal rule book was thrown overboard as soon as he had seen how she extended her arms out widely and sobbed into the seemingly dead night.

Approaching her quietly, so not to spook her, Jack ceased smoking his cigarette so that the smoke wasn't visible and edging his feet closer, until he could clearly see the back of her head and the luxurious long strands of copper red curls in a disarray about her shoulders, back and face. Her side profile was pretty enough, but it was after he had spoken and she whipped her head about to face him that he felt as though he had been whacked in the chest by his sparring partner; hard enough to wind him anyway.

As watery lined, beautiful green eyes focused to sharpen upon him. Jack's vision was more serrated than ever known. She. Was. Stunning.

Dishevelled? Yes. Upset? Very much so. Breath-stealing in vision? Absolutely.

With a dress torn over the shoulders and down, exposing the strains of her breasts upon the tightened tops of her gown, they heaved with the way in which she breathed. Erratic. Panicked, perhaps. Their gazes locked, luring him into her in a way Jack Dawson had never encountered, so much, that he almost forgot the girl was on the verge of suicide.

''Stay back. Don't come any closer.'' The girl's voice pierced through his ears, lulling him back into reality.

''Just give me your hand, I will pull you to safety.'' Jack extended his hand, taking a few shifting steps to her but then she fired back again.

''No, stay where you are. I mean it, I can so easily let go and I will do, so.''

The icy warning within her voice should have ceased him, perhaps he should have left her there to contemplate life—or death, whichever appealed the most to her. This was his first night above the maiden voyage and already, it had taken a drastic turn of which one couldn't comprehend. Taking a deep inhale of his cigarette, Jack indicated to her that he was to throw the last of it overboard, to gain closer inspection of her. Once he watched it disappear into a darkened abyss, he thrust his hands into his pockets.

Now, was the challenge.

''No, you won't.''

''What do you mean, no I won't? Do not presume to tell me what I will and will not do, how could you think that you know me?''

Her tongue was sharp. As sharp as her gaze had been. Falling under the icy spell of hers was bound for a disaster.

''Well, ma'am, I think if you truly wished to jump, then you would have by now.''

''How can I, when you're distracting me.'' She turned, her eyes bearing into him, full of such intensity. ''Oh, go away.'' Turning back to the darkened ocean below her, she was panting again; truly panicking or perhaps in a muddle.

''I wish I could, but I am involved now.''

Off the cuff, Jack removed his outer suit jacket and hung it over the bar of the rail.

''If you let go, then I shall be forced to jump in there after you.''

''Don't be ridiculous.'' She blinked, as though sobriety was hitting her fast. Or perhaps reality. ''You would be killed.''

''I am a brilliant swimmer. I can assure you.''

Jack loosened his bow tie, unravelling it before rolling it neatly over his hand and placing it atop his jacket as she watched incredulously.

''The fall alone would kill you.''

''Yes, it would hurt, I am not saying that wouldn't.''

As he unbuttoned his waist jacket, as slowly as he could to prolong their conversation and the need for her to see sense, Jack nodded with a glance down to the waters below.

''It's about eighty or so feet.'' Jack narrowed his eyes as she inspected the drop below. ''To be honest, my main concern would be water been so cold.''

After examining the icy depths, the girl pulled her eyes back to Jack, tilting her chin to raise it.

''How cold?''

''About freezing. A couple of degrees over, if you're lucky.''

Jack's waist jacket was now unfastened, and he slowly removed it, with her eyes intent on him the entire time. He would shiver, if adrenaline wasn't pumping through him so fast that he almost wished to grab her and pull her back to safety himself but knowing that was a risk to both, he would allow her to make her own decision. Needing a newer topic, to prolong their conversations, Jack plucked one from his mind.

''Have you ever been to Wisconsin?''

Her eyes widened in confusion.

''What?''

''Well, they have some of the coldest winters. I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls and when I was a kid, I went ice fishing on Lake Wissota-'' Off catching her looks of absolute bewilderment, Jack motioned in a circular motion with his finger and then imitating a fishing rod by casting his arm over his shoulder. ''Pardon me, ice fishing is you know where you chop a hole in the ice and then-''

''I know what ice fishing is.'' She snapped, her eyes closing in irritation. Good, Jack was targeting the intended audience. Suddenly, this was no longer about her need to jump from a moving ship and her focus was on his terrible tale.

''Sorry, you just seem like, you know, very much an indoor girl.'' He leant against the rail, almost right beside her. ''Anyway, I fell through some thin ice and I am telling you, water as cold as the one down below in this ocean, it will hit you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe,'' he found her eyes, shining in the dim light, her trembles were almost shivers, her shoulders heaving as she breathed, ''you can't think.'' His gaze penetrated hers, and he was sure that he could read something deep in the depths of her eyes. ''At least not about anything but the pain.''

Ripping his eyes away, turning them to the depths of the black below, Jack unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and started to roll up the material to his elbows neatly, exposing his toned forearms.

''That's why I am not looking forward to jumping in there after you, but like I said, I don't have a choice.''

The girl furrowed her brow, narrowed her eyes and squeezed them closed, as though trying to make sense of this. Of the man before her. Jack even contemplated his own sanity as this point. If he was caught out here, barely dressed then he would have ruined her reputation for sure and probably his own, as well, not that he mattered much, he was already only a half-breed of some kind to society.

''I guess that is why I am hoping you will come back over the rail to get me off the hook.'' Placing his left foot upon the lowest rail, Jack pulled off his short gaiters shoe, and let it drop to the ground with a thunk and repeated it with his right. Now, he was dressed in just his shirt, trousers and socks.

''You're crazy!'' The girl raged at him, and with an adolescent huff, she turned back to the ocean, extending her arms out once more before trying to control her breathing.

''That is what everybody says, Miss.'' Jack inched ever so slightly closer to her, so that in the brisk Atlantic wind, her scent washed over him and it almost paralysed him to want to sample it more. ''With all due respect, I am not the one hanging off the back off a ship here.''

Giving her a few seconds to collect her thoughts, Jack ever so slowly extended his right hand out to her, almost as though he was about to rein in a scared horse.

''Come on, give me your hand, you don't have to do this.''

The girl uttered something, ever so quietly, but then her hand was slowly reaching over to meet his and then—it was in his. Dainty. Fragile. Soft. Feminine. Slowly, she then turned, using the rail to guide her. Jack watched her feet, so that her heels wasn't about to catch upon the beads of her gown.

Glancing up the length of her, Jack was aware of her shivers. Of how she trembled. How erratic her breathing was. Her eyes now, fully upon him filled his entire universe.

''I'm Jack. Jack Dawson.''

With his hand still holding onto hers, Jack introduced himself, with a slight smile.

''Rose. Rose DeWitt Bukater.''

''Wow, that you may have to write down for me.''

She laughed. Slightly. And his heart fluttered about.

''Is that short for anything? Roseanne, Rosemary...''

''No, just Rose. A single rose, the only flower which can draw blood.'' The vulnerability within her soft voice, in comparison to the stark shrill of when he had first encountered her was vast.

''Well, then, Rose, I am pleased to meet you.'' Jack tapped his shoulder. ''Place your other hand here, come on, let's get you this side of the rail.''

Rose's shaky left hand landed atop his shoulder, and through his thin evening shirt, Jack could feel the ice of her touch. As she raised one foot to propel her, suddenly, he was jerked to the rail as her heel became caught in the netting of her dress and she slipped. He slammed up against it, and was almost winded as though a bull had struck his chest. Buttons flew from his shirt, the collar had ripped as her grasp of his shoulder had increased and now, his entire chest was exposed to the cool bite of the breeze and then, there was Rose, dangling eighty feet above the Atlantic Ocean, having nearly took him with her after all, but now, he was her only anchor to life. To the ship. To solid ground.

Rose had screamed. So much that it had pierced the entire night and his own heart as her body had plunged down towards the ocean.

''Help me, please, help me.''

Perhaps, now that Rose had decided to live; death was suddenly very frightening.

Despite his own accelerated heart, Jack breathed out steady. ''Listen to me,'' he squeezed at her hand, to ensure that she stopped thrashing. ''I have got you.''

It wasn't enough. Rose tried to use her feet to climb up the hull but it was no use when she was in such shock, swaying and thrashing. Jack's grip on her was going to slip, and then she would fall to her death. He squeezed onto her hand as hard as he could, and she glanced up at him with such terror in her eyes.

''I have got you, Rose. I will not let go.''

Jack's gentle tone seemed to calm her enough to listen especially the use of her given name so directly as though they were thoroughly familiar and acquainted. Panic wouldn't help, but calmness of the situation, no matter how severe it was.

''Now, pull yourself up, come on.''

Using his entire strength, Jack pulled her hand, instructing Rose to place her free hand on the lower bar to pull her weight up, and then her feet to climb up, to clasp onto anything which she could to enable herself to be higher and then, once she was hunched about the lower bar, Jack used both of his hands to clutch onto anything which he could to pull her to safety.

''Come on, Rose, you can do this.'' Jack encouraged, quietly, so to not panic her.

Jack grasped at her shoulders, her waist and her gown and then finally, once Rose was at a high enough level to put her arms around his shoulders, and fasten them tightly around the base of his neck, Jack drew her upwards, sliding her body over the rail in one smooth but shaky haul, as he turned to stand Rose upon the decks, finally exhaustion gave in and his own legs buckled and sent them both crashing to the floor of the deck, panting with such adrenaline it was frightening.

Rose was trembling below Jack, as his body covered hers. His hands at her waist, her hands still clutching onto his shoulders fiercely as though her life still depended on it. Jack felt her shudders, smelled how close her scent was, her breath and then, for one serene moment, drawing himself away in order to examine her; their gazes were locked together in an intense reverie. Those wide, shining eyes, raked over him; the way which his shirt had torn open, exposing his chest, his hair was no doubt dishevelled and now hung in his eyes, and then, Jack, in turn, allowed himself to see how her erratic breathing caused her breasts to press to his thin shirt, her pumping heart could be felt beneath him and it matched his own in acceleration. The tears flowed freely, and for a maddening moment, he was bewitched enough to almost reach up to wipe them away and croon excessively just how she would be all right now. That he wouldn't let her go-

-until they heard fast and certain footsteps approaching.

Quickly, Jack moved to a stance and pushed his feet into his shoes, donned his waistcoat and then, extended his hand to Rose. At that moment, Quartermaster Rowe approached them, his face austere.

''Who goes there?''

Upon seeing Jack, his features softened. There would be less trouble if the disturbance was a gentleman, no doubt.

''It's all right.''

Jack helped Rose to her feet, assisting her to a stance and catching her waist when her legs almost buckled. To protect her modesty, Jack draped his outer coat across her shoulders and pulled the lapels to a close to ensure that her décolletage was not exposed.

Once he was stood next to them, Quartermaster Rowe tilted his head to Rose.

''I heard a scream ma'am.''

''Yes, there was an unfortunate incident, but Miss. DeWitt Bukater here is unharmed.''

''Yes, I-'' Rose stuttered, clutching to Jack's hand before he slowly led her to a wooden bench nearby. ''I was leaning over the rail, to see the um-the um-''

Jack raised his eyebrow, glancing to Rowe, then to Rose. ''The propellers?''

''Yes, the propellers, and I slipped. I would have gone overboard but Mr. Dawson here saved me, and then he went over himself.''

Rowe's concern disappeared as fast as it had arisen. ''Was that the way of it?''

''Yes. The lady is correct, as she speaks the truth.''

Jack felt Rose's pleading gaze upon him to confirm her story and so he would. They had a secret together.

''And, you feel well? No harm has been done?''

Rose shook her head, fast. ''No, I am well, thank you.''

''Well, if all if well, then I shall return.'' He paused a moment, seeing Jack's out of place hair, and raised a brow. Perhaps you should require a brandy fetching, Mr. Dawson?''

''No, thank you. I shall just assist Miss. DeWitt Bukater back to her cabin.''

''Very well.''

With one last check upon the damsel, Rowe returned and disappeared into the darkness of the well deck.

Rose must have felt Jack watching her, head bowed and clutching the lapels of his outer jacket. Her beautiful red hair parted in an instant and her icy gaze pinned him, once more.

''What were you doing out here so late alone?''

Jack was taken aback by her shrill question. The tone of her voice was suddenly sharp again. Luckily, he was amused.

''Pardon me? I am not the one who was about to go swimming with the fishes.''

''What were you doing? If anyone, any other person had seen us then we could have been exposed for-'' she couldn't finish, and Jack only hoped that she didn't insinuate what he believed her to be.

''Rose-''

''We were flung, you atop me, scarcely dressed! You removed your clothes-''

''-to make a point.''

''And, I would have been completely ruined.''

''Then, perhaps I should have let you fall to your death, huh?'' Jack raised his voice above her.

''But there was no need to remove your coats, your shoes-''

''It made you listen to me.''

''But my reputation-''

''Is intact.''

Suddenly, maddened with the fact that Jack had answered every single question, every accusation she had thrown toward him, Rose thrust herself to her feet, so sudden and abruptly that she almost lost her footing once more and her vision blurred. A pair of hands were at her waist before it cleared and Jack was in front of her again, mere inches from her face and to Jack, it all went cloudy.

''My God, you're infuriating.'' Jack whispered, lost within the depths of her innocence. ''Miss. DeWitt Bukater, I would not allow any body to believe that I had laid my hands upon you. I would not tell anyone the truth of tonight for it is our secret.''

Rose trembled beneath her gown. Beneath his touch. Her lips quivered. Her eyes searching. Perhaps they looked for the trust, or for a reason that he was lying, but being a man who would forever wear his heart upon his sleeve, Jack only gazed back solemnly.

''I-I trust you.''

There, an affinity of some sort had been arranged, unwillingly, unknowingly.

''Good.'' Jack allowed his hands to release her waist and instead, came up to steady her using her left hand. There, he found a sizable diamond. Dazzling. Bright enough to make even those with visual impairment blink back to clarity again.

''I shall walk you back, to your fiancé.''

The final word left a bitter taste within Jack's mouth, like metal or another foul chemical. Silently, Rose started towards the First-Class entrance in a fast-paced hurry and Jack, collected his bow tie and quickly doctored it to appear formal, at least the best that he could with discarded buttons, until he retired to his bed to try to forget what would indeed be an unforgettable night.

The walk back to the warmth interiors of the ship was silent. Jack could only stay a step or two behind Rose as she attempted to neaten her hair, brushing her fingers through it and pinching at her cheeks for colour and swiping away any last tears which had fled from the emotional, tidal wave of an evening. Every minute or so, she would catch a small glance behind and it was at the B-Deck corridor that Jack walked beside her, with his hands at the base of his back and he could hear the faint strings of the band, the smallest of chatter and Rose's heels clattering on the wood of the floor and then it muted at the carpet, when he could make out how her breathing had returned to regularity aside from the occasional sigh.

Coming to an abrupt stop outside B-52, Rose appeared to collect her thoughts, linking her fingers and began what appeared to be a troubling sentence before the stateroom door opened-

''Dawson!''

There, stood at the threshold of the suite was Caledon Hockley. A tightening began in Jack's jaw, and he darted his gaze from Rose to her apparent betrothed; the one who slid Jack's coat from her shoulders and shoved it into his arms as though it was soaked in poison.

''Darling!'' Rose was flushed, just as startled as he was. ''I was about to introduce Jack Dawson.''

Cal nodded, glancing down his nose through onyx eyes. ''Yes, Dawson and I are acquainted. Now, it appears, you are, too. Look at you, you're a fright-'' Cal removed his own lounge jacket and draped it across Rose's shoulders. ''Come on inside, out of the way of prying eyes, dear, what happened to you?'

''Yes, Mr. Dawson was of some assistance to me. I almost went overboard, whilst looking at the propellers.''

Rose's deep gaze ushered Jack to finally speak. ''Yes, fortunately I was there to stop her falling into the water.''

''Well,'' Cal narrowed his eyes, with a light smirk, ''heroic indeed.''

''I was very lucky that Mr. Dawson was here to assist, darling.'' Rose stepped over the threshold of the door into her suite, and Jack watched how Hockley's hand came across her waist, gripping her to him and pinning her in place. His jaw tightened to the point of pain.

''Yes, well, I am glad you're safe, Miss. DeWitt Bukater.'' The green of her eyes was even lovelier under lamplight and Jack nodded before growing even more tangled within her web. ''I shall bid you goodnight, Miss, and Mr. Hockley.''

Turning he made his egress down the corridor of which he and Rose had returned back up just a minute or two earlier. His jaw unclenched just a little but now, madness sunk in. She was Hockley's fiancée. Of all people Jack knew was the epitome of the devil in this world Hockley was one of them.

''Oh, but Dawson?'' Hockley's voice stopped him dead in the centre of the corridor and it took a moment for Jack to turn. Rose was stood, wrapping in her fiancé's lounge coat still, and with Hockley beside her. ''Perhaps join us for dinner tomorrow evening to regale our group with your heroic tale.''

Despite a burning rage, a deep hatred and all other sirens telling him to turn about and simply leave, he didn't. He accepted.

''Sure, count me in.''