...Flashback...

"I'm designing a new ship, sweetheart," I said, putting one arm around my wife's shoulders. I almost loved her, not purely, but almost. She was currently sitting and moping on the sofa in the grande parlor, sipping some champagne. I let out a long blow of air, not so keen on what she could say to me. We were always bickering and fighting with eachother these days.

"Do you know what it's going to be called yet?" my wife finally responded, looking up at me in the eye.

"No, I'm leaving the advertizing and the name-calling to Mr. Ismay," I told her, giving her a kiss on her forehead, "does that sound alright?"

"Why do you always leave it to Mr. Ismay to decide?" she questioned, as calm as a baby's breath.

"He's the big boss of the company darling," I sighed impatiently, "it's his job to do this."

"You should be the boss of your ideas," she replied, "you are a good man, you know."

I could barely see the sarcasm in what she was saying. She did not love me, nor did she even care about whether or not we would stay together or depart. Maybe she was always trying to make me feel uncomfortable with her, or just asking for a divorce. Then again, I did not want to divorce her. There may have been no love in our relationship, but there was always a lovely deal of friendship involved. If we got divorced, we would not stay friends forever.

...End Flashback...

"This very night with bated breath and muffled oar, without a light as still as death, we'll steal ashore. A clergy man shall make them one at half past ten, and then we can return, for none can part them then. This very night with bated breath and muffled oar, without a light as still as death, we'll steal ashore, a clergy man shall make them one at half past ten, and then we can return for none! None!" I sang merrily in my room, as I brushed off my old jacket that was covered in dust. Ofcourse, I could not see in any way possible why there would ever be dust in heaven. However, that must have been God's way of saying hello.

"Mr. Andrews, I found it!" I heard coming from my doorway.

"What the--" I jumped, "oh it's just you, Mr. Dawson. You scared me there for a second."

"Sorry, Mr. Andrews," he said, giving me a bow.

"Th-there's no need to bow to me, Mr. Dawson," I stuttered, taken aback from what he had done.

"Again, I'm sorry," he laughed nervously. "It's just that I found my drawings. You wanna see them?"

I nodded, and then walked over to him. He began to show me some gorgeous drawings of different people I had never met.

"Where did you draw these, Mr. Dawson?" I asked, seeing all sorts of nude women on each page. I then came across a familiar women, who I knew I had met somewhere. "Is that Rose, Mr. Dawson?"

"Why yes, it is," he smiled, obviously perked up from what he was seeing. I chortled at his response.

"Did Cal ever see this?" I asked again, remembering Cal's expressions towards her when I had told her that the ship would sink.

"Yes, I'm pretty sure he did," he sighed, "because I remember seeing a red mark on her face when she came to rescue me from the arms when I was arrested."

"That's too bad."

"I know, Mr. Andrews. She did not love him, you know."

"I noticed," I said with an awkward expression on my face. After all, I had never imagined Rose being drawn so unlike a porcelain doll. She just looked so natural, let alone attractive. I also could not imagine how Jack was feeling as he was drawing such a work of art. I could never see myself drawing my own wife or lover, because I did not think I could ever love at all.

I then saw a depressed look form on Jack's face. I really pitied him quite a lot, actually. He shook his head, and I figured that he must have wanted to leave. He had gotten better over the past ten years while we had been up here in heaven. He told me that Rose had married that Calvert man he had mentioned earlier, and that she popped out two kids already, Jack Calvert being the oldest and Ruth Calvert being the youngest. Jack knew that young Jack was his, but Rose never mentioned whose baby it was. Infact, she did not mention his name to Calvert period.

"I best be off, then," he told me, giving me a small nodd and a quick smile. I waved, and got back to my business. Infact, like what Jack was doing with his drawings, I was looking for something myself. A key, infact. It was actually the key my wife had given me just incase I did not come back for her. Ofcourse, I did not. I would have never left her if I had known this was going to happen in the first place. Infact, I had saved her life before all this...