Chippewa Falls, 1912

Four nights in a row Jack had been tormented by dreams and flashbacks of his forgotten life. Not only the memories of Titanic returned to him, but also moments before that. He had just come from Paris when he and his friend Fabrizio found themselves among the Brits. He had met the Italian three months previous somewhere in an alleyway in the South of France. He was totally pissed and Jack made sure he went back to his residence safely. They had been inseparable ever since. The two enjoyed the capital of love like the bachelors they were, visiting every brothel they could find. All the women had a soft spot for the young American, they couldn't get enough of him. But Jack only wanted to put the life on paper. Draw the realistic and also painful parts of the lives of all the women. He of course indulged every once in a while, but soon was done with the whole city as barely anyone appreciated his art.

Jack was sitting at the dinner table, reading every page he had written carefully through and reliving the moments as his eyes scanned over the words. He had won his ticket after winning a game of poker. The room he slept in together with Fabrizio and two Swedish men was nothing he had seen in his life before. The room smelled brand new, the sheets were fresh and crisp and there was enough light coming through the window. Not having eaten a proper meal in weeks, the dinners on the ship tasted like a king's meal. Then as he sat on the deck, there she was. The image of her face in his mind sparked something within him. A certain sensation of desire could be felt. She had even told him they had something together. Only, Jack couldn't make up yet if it was a desire for the puzzle he was trying to put together or in someway for her. The door suddenly shot open behind him and he quickly put away his notes. Mrs. Hughes entered together with Mr. Hughes in his wheelchair fast asleep and Jack stood up to help the old man inside. Mrs. Hughes sighed and wiped the sweat off her face. She looked tired, the heat of the summer not helping a single bit. Jack felt sorry for her. She was always busy with taking care of her family that she had no time for herself.

"Why don't you go out tonight," Jack suddenly said, "Won't there be a motion picture in town at eight?"

Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "That is really kind of you, Jack, but I simply have no time."

"Nonsense. I will cook for you tonight and when Florence gets back we'll take care of Mr. Hughes."

After a while of convincing she finally gave in to his idea. Florence was beyond thrilled for her mother when she arrived back from the pub. She had helped her put on her favorite dress and said that she ought to stay away for as long as she desired. There she went, like a little girl walking alone to school for the very first time. Later that night, as Jack was sitting by the fireplace, Florence came walking down and took a seat of the couch beside him. "Father is finally asleep." She sighed in relief.

"That is good."

Florence's eyes met his and she smiled. "You are looking much better than you did yesterday, Jack." Her hand moved towards his face and she put a loose strand of his hair behind his ear. There was a moment of silence between the two before Florence put her lips onto his. The kiss soon became more intense and passionate and both their breathing became heavy. Tracing his lips down her neck and onto her collarbone, she started to loosen the buttons on his shirt. He pulled away.

"Florence, are you sure?" He simply asked. She nodded her head. She wanted him close to her, for once wanting to be the only thing on his mind. Just both of them together sharing a magical moment of intimacy. He stood up, took her hand and led her towards his shed where they would be completely alone. Butterflies were unstoppably flying through her stomach. He took off his shirt and pants before slowly helping her out of her attire. Florence took a deep breath, not knowing what to expect or what to do. But as he laid her down onto the bed and slowly entered her, she felt safe in his arms.

He had seldom seen a sky so full of stars. They looked like shimmering diamonds lightning up the darkness of the world around him. As he blew the smoke of his cigarette from his lips he heard a fast pace of footsteps in the background. Soon, a shadow rushed towards past him. When he sat up he could see it was a woman in a glittering gown running towards the end of the ship. Why would someone be in such a hurry during this time? He thought to himself. Not trusting the situation he stood up and slowly headed into the same direction. As he came closer he saw the woman climbing over the railing. Her hair was blowing in the wind and she remained still. It was her, the same girl he saw on the deck the other day. He was now close enough and let out his hands.

"Don't do it." He said. She turned around, her facing lit up. She looked scared, confused and her eyes were full of tears.

"Stay back." She commanded the stranger man, "Don't come any closer."

"Here just gimme your hand, I'll pull you back over."

"No! Stay where you're at. I mean it, I'll let go."

"No you won't." His heart was pounding in his chest, yet he remained calm. He didn't want to upset the girl any further, afraid she in fact might let go. But something inside him told him that she never would let go of that railing. It was an impulsive act. A cry for help. He starting simply chatting to her. He didn't care that she looked annoyed he simply had to help her.

"You're crazy."

He leaned a bit more towards her, trying hard not to laugh at her remark.

"That's what everybody says , but with all due respect, miss, I am not the one hanging off the back of a ship here. Come on. You don't want to do this. Give me your hand." Finally, she unfastened one hand from the rail and reaches it around toward him. Jack reached out to take it, firmly. Rose started to turn. Now that she has decided to live, the height is terrifying.

"Pfew." He let out. Once their eyes met both their universes seemed to fill to an extend neither one could have ever imagined. "I am Jack Dawson."

"Rose DeWitt Bukater."

"I have to get you to write that one down." He chuckled.

She was overcome by vertigo as she shifted her footing, turning to face the ship. As she started to climb, her dress got in the way, and one foot slipped off the edge of the deck. She plunged letting out a piercing shriek that could be heard throughout all the decks. Jack, gripping her hand, was jerked toward the rail, but he was determined to save her.

"I've got you. I won't let go."

The dreams didn't scare him anymore, yet still startled him. His eyes shot open. He was laying flat on his back, a shiver running down his spine. It was the same routine. Grabbing the notebook from underneath his pillow and start writing. Writing until his hands would physically hurt. He then looked at his watch that was on his nightstand. It was already past eleven in the morning. Florence was also gone, but by the position of both the pillow and duvet she had spent the night beside him. He shook his head, trying to get himself back into reality. This had to be how the personally met during the voyage. He had to have had pulled over. Did they start talking after the situation?. He opened the door and walked towards the house where Mrs. Hughes and Florence were having breakfast together. They both had a sparkle in their eyes but due to completely different reasons. Her night of leisure had done Mrs. Hughes really good. She seemed to have more color on her face and couldn't stop talking to the kids about everything that had happened. Jack sat down beside them and smeared some butter onto a piece of toast. He could feel his fiancee's eyes burning onto him. It was still a look of pure desire.

"Well, children," Mrs. Hughes interrupted their moment, "We have to hurry if we want to get to church in time." Before one of them could respond, something in the corner of his eye caught Jack's attention. It was a shadow, but when he turned his head towards the window it was her whom he saw. She stood still, her hair hanging loose, the wind letting it slightly blow in her face. She simply smiled at him, looking radiant in the morning sun. It also seemed as if she started to speak to as her lips moved slowly, but it was impossible to hear.

"Rose." He suddenly said out loud. The two women looked at the window, confused for they saw nothing there. As Mrs. Hughes came back into the room after having opened the front door she said: "She must have simply walked by, Mrs. Mayfield is not here."

Pittsburgh 1912

"Is that in anyway unclear?" Rose looked up from her notes at the old woman. Her name was Mrs. Brandon, a former teacher at a finishing school. Having also worked as a Housekeeper in New York she knew everything about being a well presented lady of the house. Cal had hired her for private lessons and she would spend hours on end in the stuffy library of Mrs Hockley's house. It felt just like the old days when she would have her school lessons back at home. Rose never really cared about many subjects her education held, apart from the cultural aspects. The old woman stared at her from over her spectacles. She smelled as dull as she looked. Rose knew she was pale but compared to Mrs. Brandon she found herself amongst the greek gods. Her hair was tightly pulled back into a bun, her full figure tightly fitted into her black dress. Rose shook her head. "No I understand it."

"Good. Now that was it for the day. I'll see you again tomorrow morning."

Rose nodded her head and watched her leave. Before the old hag was completely disappeared from her sight, she turned around one last time. "You know you should be really thankful your husband arranged this for you, miss. You don't want to be seen as a failure next to the other women of society who have their affairs in order."

"My God." Rose groaned when she was finally alone. Then the door closed behind her and Meredith walked in with a fresh pack of cigarettes. Rose's eyes lightened up and took it gratefully out of her maid's hands. She opened the window and the two stepped onto the little balcony. The nicotine relaxed her muscles as she could see her hands trembling with rage. Rose looked at Meredith, whose cheeks were burning. She laughed and pinched one of them slightly. The young girl was clearly in love. She has been spending every spare moment she had with Mrs. Hockley's footman. It was nice to see her happy after everything she had been through.

"You don't have to hide it from me, you know." She laughed.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Meredith, even a blind person can see you are head over heels in love with him."

Meredith shrug her shoulders. "I don't even know what it's like to be in love. How does it feel. How do you know?"

Rose took a moment to collect her thoughts. She took another drag from her smoke and turned her head back to her maid. "You just know," she caly spoke, "Everyone always tells you that you get a feeling of butterflies all over your stomach, which is in a way true. When you are not around and you think of that person there is a sense of longing which indeed can be felt in your stomach. But when you are with that person, everything just feels calm. You feel relaxed like it's always been that way. The two of you just are." She thought of when she made love to Jack in the backseat of the car. Everyone had always told her that sex was a painful and in someway a sinful thing to do. But when he touched her body that night, their souls melted within each other and they became one.

A hocking sound interrupted the girls' conversation. A car came driving onto the property and stopped at once. Quickly throwing her cigarette away, Rose watched as she saw her mother getting out of the vehicle. She had totally forgotten that today was the final fitting of her wedding dress. Ruth looked up and waved slightly at her daughter who felt her stomach drop.

Chippewa Falls 1912.

She waited patiently for Jack to give her a goodbye kiss and head off to work. The house was empty and she felt a sudden urge to get some facts straight. Waiting a few minutes longer until she was sure he was far away enough and would not be coming back until the end of the day, she collected all her courage and sneaked towards the shed. Knowing he would have locked, she got hold of the spare key and made her way in. It looked perfectly clean. His bed was made up, his clothes perfectly folded up onto his dresser. It even smelled nice.

"Where to begin?" Florence muttered to herself. She had to move things around, yet put it back in the exact same way. Of course she felt guilty about her act, but for her own good she needed answers on his strange behaviour. He had been well for one day, making her believe he had come back to his senses. After the night they had slept together he was acting off again. Picking up a bible next on his nightstand, she accidentally dropped it. A she kneeled down to grab it, she turned her head and quickly realised she has stumbled upon a gold mine.

It was a collection of drawings, scattered all over the floor underneath his bed. Taking a closer look, Florence took the papers, sat down onto the bed and observed the pieces of art one by one. There was a similarity between all of them. As she picked one up, her eyes widened by the sight of people drowning, or grasping themselves onto something adrift in the waters. Next up was a boat, but not just any boat. It was a perfect replication of the Titanic going down between the waves. Florence's hands were trembling, utterly confused by all of it. Before she wanted to leave the room a few pieces of paper fell out of the collection onto the floor. Picking them up she looked straight into the eyes of a young woman about her age. Her hair was curled, half up half down with a butterfly clip in it. She looked serious, staring right in front of her. It wasn't the only drawing of the girl, there were more than ten.

"What on earth…" It wasn't only his drawings, but also articles from the newspapers about the Titanic all cut out and held together with a paperclip. One picture caught her attention. It was the same girl he had drawn.

Caledon Hockley, Pittsburgh's Steel Tycoon together with his fiancee Rose DeWitt Bukater at Pier 54

"I'll be goddamned."

...

Jack decided to walk an extra round before heading back home to clear his mind. It was the same route he used to often take when he was a young boy. Passing his childhood home, he stared over the fence where he saw Mrs. Mayfield hanging up laundry. She turned and waved when she saw his silhouette through the bright light of the burning sun.

"Mrs Mayfield, how are you doing?" Jack walked through the gate towards her.

"I am fine, dear. Listen I just put on the kettle. Would you like a cup of tea?"

He nodded his head and followed her inside the house. Putting a cold cloth in her neck, she realized it was simply too hot for the time of the day to do any form of work.

"There are simply too few hours in a day to get anything done." She complained and poured the two a cup. Jack thanked her and gratefully took a fresh piece of lemon cake her daughters had made. The freshness of the fruit simply melted on his tongue.

"Congratulations on your engagement by the way." She smiled, but soon raised an eyebrow when he simply nodded and looked away for a moment. He saw the worry and confusion in her eyes and asked her what she was thinking.

"Nothing, Jack." The sound of her voice sounded soft but somewhat stern. It was a way of speaking his mother would often do as well, "It's just that when I look at you I can see there is so much going inside your head. You are not trying to compensate your relationship right?"

"Why would you say that?"

"Let me tell you a story. When my father died, my mother was heartbroken. She didn't know how to deal with herself. So she clung onto the next best man that came by. They married within two weeks. It was only later we found out he wasn't a kind man. I am not saying that Florence isn't a nice person, because she absolutely is, but is there someone else you are trying to forget?"

Jack looked away for a moment, trying his best to hold back his tears, but it was simply impossible. She triggered the right spot for him to burst out crying and spill out the truth. She felt horrible seeing how hurt he was. Mrs Mayfield kneeled down next to him and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ears. She put her hand on his back and rubbed it to try to calm him down.

"What's going on, Jack?"

That's when he told her everything. About the past five years that had totally vanished from his mind. How his hometown was this only place he could clearly remember and only went back because he wanted something to hold on to. Then after the accident last week, everything slowly started to come together. Nightmares tormented his sleep. He started to remember his travels and the ship. Her. Rose.

"I just see her everywhere. She's been haunting my mind."

"Come here, darling." She pulled him into a hug. "Is there a way you can contact her?"

"I don't know." He wiped the tears from his face and took a sip of his now cold tea, "I bet she is probably already married by now."

"Isn't there a way you can find out?"

"I don't know." He shrug his shoulders like a disheartened child.

"Listen," Mrs. Mayfield took his hands in her, "this Rose will help you find your Rose, but you have to get frank with Florence first. She is a lovely girl and deserves to know the truth."