Chapter two:

A view of the Titanic was visible from several blocks away, towering above the terminal buildings like the skyline of a great city. The steamer's whistle echoed across Southampton to signal that it was almost sailing time. The day although clear, was cooler than the usual April time but that hadn't stopped thousand cramming into the docks to wave their goodbyes.

Dockside was a tiny pub, where those either waiting to board or simply watch the ships maiden voyage sat to drink cheap ale. Inside sat Jack Dawson with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, his tongue played with it, rolling it about in a cocky manner. Jack was unshaven with rumpled clothes from sleeping rough in them for a few days but his attention was very much on the game before them. He was involved in a very serious poker game with two Swedes who he had met that morning in the pub. They spoke very little English and Jack found them to be very naïve when it had come to betting their two tickets aboard Titanic in their game. He could have humoured them and refused to play with such a grand prize at stake but they had very little trouble betting their ticket in a bragging manner. Now, the game was drawing to a close. Olaf, one of the Swedish men cursed. His brother Sven responded. Jack smoked cheerfully as the two men scrabbled over something in Swedish.

He was alone. As he always was. There was something about one's own company which was quite nice to have.

''Hit me again.'' He jauntily flicked the ash into a tray nearby.

Jack took the card which was offered and slipped it into his hand. Jack's eyes said nothing. This was his game. Olaf licked his lips nervously and refused a card. In the middle of the table sat coins of various origins, a pocket watch and some bills. Jack glanced at the pocket watch. It was five to twelve just gone. His eyes double checked the clock above the bartender's head. The game had gone on for some time, longer than he could remember. In front of him sat three emptied glasses of ale which he had consumed, enough to line his stomach for breakfast. The air about them was laced with the excitement of the ship's departure, but to Jack, none of that mattered.

''The moment of truth boys. Somebody's life's about to change.'' Jack narrowed his eyes at the boons before him, taking a last glance at the clock to ensure the time. Knowing he may as well have said anything at all and the idiots wouldn't have understood him, he slyly grinned.

Jack nodded to the youngest brother, who revealed his cards. He frustratingly flicked them away from him. ''Non.''

With a raised eyebrow, something flickering within Jack's belly. Excitement. An opportunity. Something about his life was about to change. He could feel it just there within his reach.

''Sven?''

The elder brother revealed two pairs. There was a cockiness about Sven, just as there had been the moment they had interested people to join them for a game of poker. Jack, who had been sat coolly, watching the way the steam from the ship joined the clouds within the sky with a pint of ale had his interest piqued when they had offered him a hand. Olaf, however, seemed to have now refrained his confidence and instead, glared at his brother, who had bet their tickets as well as the money and pocket watch upon the table. Jack had offered a few French coins and a couple of British pounds. That was all he owned in the world. So, of course had played. When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose.

''Uh oh, two pairs.''

Exhaling the last bit of his cigarette, Jack stubbed it out before carefully laying out his cards for the two Swedes to see.

''Full house boys.''

There was a sudden calm before the storm. Jack leapt to his feet, as the two brothers exchanged incredulous glances before comprehending just what had happened.

Jack whooped, as he took the last bit of his ale down in a champion manner before watching the horrified faces of the brothers before him.

''I'm going home!''

His whoop caught the attention of the bartender.

''You think you can make it aboard, mate?'' He pointed his thumb to the clock upon the wall. ''Titanic leaves for America in less than five minutes.''

''Shit!''

Jack turned, to collect his winnings from the table. Sheer luck was on his side this fine morning. Wasn't this what life being about? Taking those chances and ceasing them whilst you could. The collar of his shirt was clutched, and drawn forward by Olaf who raised his fist. Jack winced, closing his eyes ready to take a pound to the face when suddenly, Olaf turned to clout his brother instead and sent him flying from the chair on which he sat. Jack laughed at the sudden turn, as excitement danced about in his belly.

''Hey, there's two tickets, one of you could come aboard.'' Jack wafted it about, as a torment to the idiots for betting the tickets to begin with. The two brothers didn't hear him, as they squabbled about in their native tongue. Locating his backpack, with the entirety of what he owned contained inside, he started to scrape the winnings and collecting it in his pack. He put the pocket watch within his jacket pocket, feeling the weight of it inside and then he stuffed what was left into the bag before closing it and thrusting it over his shoulder.

It was then, in a moment, with so much clarity gained that he watched with razor sharp eyes as a young woman shifted past the window, covering her head with a navy and green plaid shawl and a sadness which saddled the depths of her. It was a split second of which he saw her, just dart past. One blink she would be missed. Gone. Red curls spilled from the front of her shawl, and it was the colour of fire which had caused his breathing to just stop one second as some kind of heat scorched him on a tepid April day. Silence drowned his ears, as though there was only one focal point and he had been startlingly stopped right there, like a dazed rabbit in a dazzling light. He hadn't noticed how his breathing had paused or his heart accelerated. It was only as the deafening sounds of the public house dribbling back into his senses that he blinked to see her gone. The Titanic sat in all of her glory, waiting for him to board and to take him onto another adventure. This was luck. His own, beautiful luck. The appetite to run to the ship was gone. The excitement to experience the most luxurious liner which would ever cross the Atlantic. Riding in high style with the swells, as he had said earlier. About him, punters cheered and drank their ale, the two Swedes continued to squabble as they banged their fists upon the now empty table. The tavern owner called to Jack once more.

''Hey, mate. You got about a minute.''

A minute.

A whole minute.

His heart was still racing. His destiny was waiting. He was going home. To America. After three years. Jack Dawson had left a boy and would return a man. Why wasn't he running to the damned ship? His feet were stuck, caught in a net and the only thing upon his dense and fogged mind was her. That run. She moved with a purpose. She was clouded by sadness. Plagued. A heavy heart dragged his feet toward the exit to make his egress and greet the Titanic.

It now felt as though boarding that ship would take him to the pits of Hell. To his death. Away from what felt as though was a heavy burden pulling at him and that was her...

Calling. Urging.

Jack laughed suddenly, to himself, no one else. He shook his head and nodded to the bartender in a response.

He was going home.

Time ticked but he had stopped again.

''Change of plan, guys.'' Jack slammed the tickets back down onto the table, interrupting the Swedes from their continued quarrel. ''If you can make it aboard, you can have them.''

Gaping at him incredulously, and not fully comprehending Jack's English, the brothers squabbled to collect their belongings but this time, Jack wasn't present to see. This time, his feet propelled him forwards and outside the public house, he made a turn – right at the door, away from the ship of dreams and towards an unknown destination. It was a decision he had not made before. A sudden change in his own demeanour which if he wasn't so clouded by his own determination then he would no doubt be questioning his own sanity. Perhaps he had been alone for too long. He had picked up companions here and there; they lasted any length from two hours to six months but would always part ways. That was the beauty of living life the way he did, for there was never any need to please another person but himself. If he starved to death then so be it, he would die happy. Some days he would make enough money to eat for a week, some days he would struggle to even find water to drink and bathe. That was where companions helped now and then, if they had enough food to share then they would, enough money to buy him a pint of ale and a dance from a pretty girl in Paris then even better. Jack Dawson was scattered dust which collected for just a second before it would go where the wind took him. A fortunate man to have travelled across Europe. His story was unique from stalking the ships at New York Harbour until he was lucky enough to stow himself away aboard for five days. Working his way from place to place on freight liners or tramp steamers. Where he could find one, the beach was his pillow and the sea his blanket.

The ocean was what enthralled him the most. Perhaps that was his mother's influence; a girl so determined to see the ocean she had ran away at the tender age of sixteen with his father, they never reached the next town before her father found her and forced her back into Eau Claire. They settled in the neighbouring town of Chippewa Falls and married right away and Jack arrived the next year. There was never time or money to so much as hope to vacation anywhere and so, she would make do with Lake Wissota and walked there daily each day with or without her son until she died. His own father had taken him ice fishing there, showing him the ropes until he had fallen in about a year before his folks died. He never went back there.

So, once he was orphaned at fifteen, what had been left for him to do in that small damned town? Everything he cared about most in the world was gone; his parents, his house and his belongings. In his parents' deaths, he found a freedom which wouldn't have existed if they had lived.

Jack shoved his way through the throngs, completely uncertain of the girl's destination. Hell, she could have even boarded the ship now. The ship which he would have been able to board, which he had travelled to see that morning specifically wishing to witness a slice of history but that now couldn't appeal to him less. if he stopped for a second, he would have been concerned of his own demeanour but the only concern he had to was to ensure that she was all right. It had been the haunted look of her eyes; the ones he had seen for a split second but enough to enthral him for a lifetime. He hurried on, that sight propelling him. Following the end of his nose was what either got Jack in trouble or he found something unforgettable. His senses had taken him out West after his parents died and that was where he found the ocean for the very first time. Dipping his toes into the water felt exhilarating and-

There was a flash of navy and green plaid in the crowds. The people cheered and shouted in numerous languages, pushing forward to gain a better glimpse of the ship or loved ones. Some were crying, others completely in awe. It was difficult to navigate through the pushing and pulling, and Jack kept his eyes on the last place where he was sure to have seen the blanket. It was through an adrenaline filled second that he pushed himself past the final few throngs and out past several horse drawn carriages and motorcars. Once away from the crush, he allowed himself one final glance back to what could have become his destiny to return home. A moment in history which would never be given again and a chance he would never have in his life. His heart wasn't even heavy, but filled with a determination like no other. Turning quickly, he almost skidded through thick mud until he pulled himself out onto the dusty road ahead and darted between factories. It was the only exit from the docks so he was sure she would have gone this way.

Unless she was still within the crowds...

Jack wanted to take a spin to check, but there was no time. Instinct told him to follow the road and so he did, with a pounding heart thumping so heavily that he could feel it over the top of his feet on the pavement. The town centre looked full with celebratory functions and banners of the British flag. Rushing past, there was a narrow road which led down past several rows of houses and it was there, pressed against a doorway which was slightly back from the road was where he found the figure.

Her.

Jack ceased at the entrance to the first row of houses. Beneath the shawl, tendrils of red hair fell into her face and shielded his vision of her fully. Having only glimpsed at her face for less than a second at the time of her passing the public house window, he had completely been enthralled by the sadness which lined her features. Even though her delicate face had been a blur, there was something startlingly beautiful and yet flawed about her. He was a man who would never be able to find out but her presence pulled at him. Enough to leave tickets to America aboard the Titanic. Christ, he was stupid.

There had never been a time when a woman had captured his attention so well, not the extent of this. Running his steady hands through his hair, he reached to his jacket pocket and pulled out the watch which he had won at the poker game and examined the handsomeness of its face and at a later date would try to figure out some kind of history. Beyond that, he pulled out a cigarette and dangled it between his lips before striking a match to light it. The rush followed...

Perhaps winning that ticket would have been the best thing that could happen to a guy like him. It's not like doors opened to men of his calibre every day. Turning back was now not an option, the ship was gone taking the Swedish brothers with it. He should like to stay in Southampton another day or so, there had to be another ship bound for any other destination, one which would be large enough to sneak onto and become lost within the passengers and their luggage.

Jack inhaled and released the smoke from his lungs, knowing he should leave the girl there, with the knowledge that she was all right, and away from the crush and pull of the Southampton crowds. He moved to go, to leave her there before he was captured even more by the way that she was moving but she turned and darted out into the road and went on her way with a quicker pace than before. There was something tentative of the way that she moved, with a straight stance and yet, as she struggled to carry a simple thing such as a suitcase, he narrowed his eyes and paused for thought. This was not a woman accustomed to this environment, perhaps. Perhaps a lady of some sort. The rest of his cigarette was smoked in a hurry and tossed away to the street as pure instinct took over once more and this time, Jack ensured he was sneakier about his approach. It was almost like approaching a spooked horse; if she heard one crack then she could flee. The continued determination of her walk led her out of his site in one blink.

She was gone. As though she had vanished. Blinking several times, Jack Dawson was suddenly alone once more in the middle of a strange town. There were multiple directions of which the girl could have gone. His pounding heart refused to silence, and he stopped dead in his tracks. The world seemed to have suddenly gone darker, a little colder and after adjusting his bag upon his shoulders to the other side as a stiff breeze came to knock his senses flying about the place. Just last night he had slept beneath a bridge up this way, he was sure of it. Passed a few alehouses and some sort of green grocer's corner shop and a butcher with the fresh rabbits hung outside waiting to be purchased. Life here was full of the amenities needed. It seemed to be a community. Perhaps one very much like the one Jack had grown up in. The one he would have returned to aboard Titanic...

What would Jack Dawson's plan be now?

Taking slower but wider steps forward, he went toward the ale house, perhaps venturing that way he could drown his sorrows in several more pints before finding some place to rest his head early to be back at the docks the next morning to ascertain which ship was sailing where and if there would be any way to sneak aboard.

Did the bitter sting in his stomach feel like regret at giving up tickets to simply follow a lady he had seen for a split second? No, it felt deeper than that. Like a wound almost. A scratch that had to be itched but either he couldn't reach or it was too sore to touch. His heart started pounding again, and it took a minute to realise that he had left the pub behind and was now at a clearing of the houses. Then, he heard it-

-a muffled but curbed sound. Like an animal. Or a woman.

Jack's head shot up, his eyes darting about to determine the direction of the kerfuffle and then he was there, his legs taking him down a long alley which opened up beneath the bridge where he had slept just the night before.

A couple of adolescents had clutched onto a lady by the wrist, and the other around her mouth and were dragging her backwards with feeble attempts to either steal or harm.

''Hey, take your hands off her.''

The tallest looked up from beneath a dirty cap and smirked, revealing no teeth. He was older than a teen, perhaps early twenties. Perhaps bigger than Jack Dawson was. Perhaps larger than he should be involved with.

But he was involved now.

''Yeah, what will you do, mister?''