a/n: hey everyone ! i'm back from my vacation and i'm bringing you this terrible little one-shot that i randomly came up when i was very very sleep deprived. just kidding, lol. i've actually had this idea in the back of my mind for awhile now and i've finally had the guts to sit down and write the monster of a thing.
also, just a few housekeeping/random things:
1) the title of this fic is inspired by the song "i'll be seeing you" by: jimmy durante. it's perfectly heartbreaking and melancholy and while listening to it (along with "it's all coming back to me now" by: celine dion :P) i was wildly inspired and now here we are :P
2) unnecessary life update: i actually start college tomorrow so this might be the last little thing (even though this is over 3k words) for a couple of weeks at least. that is until i can actually sit down and finish the next chapter of "catharsis" (which i have not forgotten about). and don't worry, hopefully the wait will be worth it for that one :P
3) if any of you noticed i changed my pen name from "runawaysoultrain" to "heartsoftheocean" because fourteen year old me thought the other one was deep and poetic but now almost nineteen year old me is like "yeah you were dumb, maggie..." so just a head's up: it's still me writing the same lousy stuff, don't worry :P
4) as always, huge thanks to laurelle (addine995) for sitting through all of my weird ideas and whining while i was writing this thing :P you probably deserve a medal or something at this point :P
and well, i think that's enough of my weird rambling now... i hope you all enjoy this and if you do, reviews are always received with love xxxx
- maggie
June 1922 - New York City
"HOCKLEY TO CELEBRATE WEDDING ANNIVERSARY WITH MILLION DOLLAR PARTY AT THE PLAZA"
She didn't know why she was here.
There were thousands of vapid excuses dancing through her head as she tapped her foot nervously against the shining linoleum. All she had to do was pick one. Biting her lip, she tasted blood. She wondered to herself why she couldn't.
Was it for closure? Was it because there had been just a tinge of tightening in her chest as she had read over the article about him and his wife a bland morning a couple of days ago, knowing quite well that it could've been them celebrating "ten blissful years of marriage"?
Sighing, Rose stopped herself before knocking on the glossy office door in front of her. It wasn't too late to turn back. Even after traveling all this way it wasn't too late to run back to the elevator, pushing this stupid, impulsive decision out of her mind as she drove away in a cab, slipping back into gray existence of middle class living. She could forget him again, just as she had done countless times before.
It had been years since she had last seen his name in the papers. There had been the comforting thought that had flickered in her mind during some long, sleepless nights that maybe he had died, some horrible accident eradicating him from her memory once and for all.
Yet, here he was, his name printed in the newspaper she so fiercely gripped in her clammy, gloved hand. He had risen from the grave. And so had she.
Without another thought she pushed open the door in front of her. Taking a shaky breath she barged into the spacious office she had come so far to reach.
Moments ago she had prayed silently that perhaps he was in some big, important meeting with a client that couldn't be disturbed or that she had just missed him as he had slipped off to lunch. But he was here, as if out of a dream… Standing at the window, a neglected cigarette dangling from his fingertips as he calmly observed the city bustling beneath him. From what Rose could see he looked exactly as she had remembered. He had the same dark hair, the same statuesque build beneath his expensive, tailored suit… He had to be at least forty now. He didn't show it.
"Hello, Cal…" she said softly, her voice faltering just the slightest as his name escaped her lips for the first time in over a decade.
Broken from his trance, he whirled around to face her, his brows furrowed in exasperation. He had expected that air-headed secretary of his with another memo from his wife about color schemes and fabric choices for this ridiculous party. Of course it was all his father's idea. He knew how much he despised New York City with the bright lights, that newfangled jazz music pouring from every window, every street corner… Saturday wouldn't come soon enough. He ached to be back in Pittsburgh.
He had expected anybody else in the world. The woman, the ghost, standing in front of him was supposed to be dead.
This was all some sort of sick joke... It had to be some kind of twisted prank…
He had gone over the survivors list dozens upon dozens of times, keeping himself up night after night, driving himself mad with the hope that somehow her name would appear and she would come home...
Rose Dewitt Bukater had perished on the Titanic ten years ago.
Or so he had thought.
Cal stared at her for a long moment, as if daring her to evaporate from him again… But she stayed put, little wrinkles collecting around her mouth as she turned her lips up at him weakly.
She had changed; the details he had so meticulously memorized in his mind during long nights fueled by liquor suddenly became blurry. She had put on some weight, her dress, while shorter than what she used to wear, was plain and modest. But despite the dark, tired bags under her eyes and the slight hollow of her cheeks she still exuded the grace and poise of a lady; her posture straight and her head high. She couldn't erase that no matter how hard she tried or how far she ran.
The picture Cal had so carefully preserved all these lonely years had become weathered, torn at the edges, the colors faded from the cruel trick of time…
But her blue eyes still held the same dangerous sparkle they always had when they had haunted him in his insomniac daze. No one else had a gaze so deep or so deadly. The ocean that had taken his siren away had washed her up on his shores once again. And he was sure to drown in her song.
"Y-you cut your hair…" he stuttered finally.
He cursed himself under his breath. He sounded like an idiot. He hadn't known what else to say.
Rose smiled at him from across the room, wrapping a finger around an absent auburn curl that had escaped from her manicured bob.
"I suppose I did, didn't I?"
Cal merely managed to grimace at her remark as he took one last puff from his cigarette, smashing into a nearby ashtray.
"I saw you were having a party…" Rose continued, "I'm just wondering if my invitation got lost in the mail…"
She smiled again, crookedly.
Cal knew she was joking. It was small talk. He was an expert at meaningless conversation, it was all he knew after decades of mingling with the same, shallow crowd...
But he couldn't help but feel the resentment buried deep inside of him begin to fester after lying dormant for so long...
He could remember the way Rose had spat in his face, running back into the arms of that filth…
He had told himself over and over again it was him he had been aiming for, him who had wanted to see crumbling in death, floating face down as his blood saturated the water around him…
But sometimes, when the aching inside of his chest was unbearable and his head was clogged with visions of that night, he wasn't so sure if what he was telling himself was the truth.
After all, he was a good liar.
A shadow crossed Cal's vision, as if suddenly the sun had gone to hide behind a cloud. He poured himself a drink. Taking a sip of brandy he tried to calm the dark storm of the past bubbling up inside of him…
"Well, that would be quite impossible I think…" he sneered finally, his voice a dangerous decresendo as he caught the eye of the woman standing across from him.
"Because, you see, before these last few minutes, I thought you had been dead…"
He watched as Rose almost shrank back from him as he smirked sinisterly in her direction; a signature of his she had long forgotten.
Turning her gaze to the ground, she whispered, almost hoping he wouldn't hear: "You wouldn't have understood…"
Cal laughed aloud, the dry sound ringing unpleasantly between Rose's ears.
"What?"
"You wouldn't have understood why I wanted to leave… Not like you would have let me out of your grasp for that long anyways…"
He grinned at her maliciously, "You're right... I cannot possibly fathom why you wanted to just run off to live in the gutters with that, that rat!"
"Jack… His name was Jack…" Rose responded, her voice growing louder, her temper beginning to boil only the way he could make it. "And he saved my life!"
Cal chuckled again, dismissing her as he shot back another drink.
"God, you should listen to yourself… Worshipping a boy you had only known for two days!"
"He gave me more in two days than you could've ever given me in a lifetime!" Rose replied, her tongue as sharp as it had always been.
Something like hurt flickered across Cal's face, his eyes flashing wildly with pride as he tried to mask the stab his ego had just received.
"So all of those gifts, those lavish vacations, those god awful paintings I bought you weren't enough? You cost me a fortune even though your name wasn't worth a cent!"
Rose stopped, her eyes wide, the words she was ready to fire, loaded in her arsenal, were suddenly lodged in her throat.
"Shocked, sweetpea?" Cal mocked, the old term of endearment leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "I was no moron, I was aware that you were in ruin, your name shattered. And yet I looked past it for you, Rose… I risked my reputation to be with you! I would've given you anything in the world and yet you refused me still!"
With a scoff, Rose rolled her eyes, legs trembling with the itch to run out the door, letting him win this battle if it meant she could just get away from his smug face…
"You haven't changed a bit, have you? Still seeing love as something you can buy…" She paused, narrowing her gaze, letting the poison she had bottled up for years corrode whatever could have been left between them. "You could have never given me what I truly wanted…"
And the then he exploded, smashing his decanter on the floor, shards of glass shattering around them, liquor splashing her dress.
"You never told me what you wanted! I tried Rose, I wanted to understand you but you would never even look at me!"
"Yet you could slap me and shoot at me with a gun?"
She saw the lethal flicker of anger in his eyes, the way his knuckles were turning white... She had pushed him to his edge. Trembling with fear she wondered silently what he would do to her. Everyone thought she was dead anyways. Perhaps he would finish the job for good.
Glaring daggers, Cal advanced towards her, his voice thundering throughout the office, "I was jealous! That boy showed up and you fell in love with him, you were so infatuated with him, someone you didn't even know! While I had been trying for months on end to get you to speak to me! I loved you, Rose! Did that even cross your selfish, little mind?"
It hadn't. Rose felt her stomach turn.
"After the sinking I was never the same, all I could think about was you and how somehow it was all my fault that you were gone, rotting away at the bottom of the ocean because I made you so unhappy that you would rather die for a stranger than to be my wife!"
Rose waited for him to continue, for him to strike her, knocking her to the ground, backing her against the wall, leaving her bleeding and bruised as he done before when she couldn't keep her mouth shut.
But he stayed put, watching her, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his dark eyes filled with something she couldn't quite place…
Tears. Without a second further they were silently falling down his face, wetting his cheeks… The sorrow and the pain that had been bottled up all those years spilling out…
Rose was rendered speechless. He was Caledon Hockley… Ruthless, cunning… One of the most powerful men in the world…
She wasn't supposed to see him this way... No one was… She wasn't supposed to be the thing that made his walls come crumbling down…
Subconsciously she found herself stepping towards him, her hand touching the side of his face, her fingers caressing his jaw, still slick with his tears…
Before she could think his lips were on hers, his arms embracing her, devouring her with an insatiable hunger she knew that only she could satisfy…
For the first time in what had felt like an eternity Rose felt the fire inside of her igniting, the flames on her her tongue as she kissed Cal with a passion she had long forgotten she possessed, her hands finding their way around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting him more than she had ever wanted anything… All those years of adventure, keeping Jack's promise… She had never realized how alone she had really been… She had never realized the one person she had truly loved she had hid from…
Pulling away, she could see the desire and longing simmering in his gaze.
"I'm sorry…" she whispered, her breath ragged, hot against his cheek.
The edge of his mouth flicked upwards, claiming her lips once again.
In that moment she knew that he was sorry too.
xXx
He hadn't been able to see much before. But now that Rose's clothes were violently strewn across the floor of his hotel room along with his own she was exposed to his lustful gaze as they rolled around on his bed in a frenzy to devour one another, a tangle of limbs that couldn't stop yearning.
He had been right. She had changed.
Her curves had only become fuller; more tempestuous with time, her perfectly sculpted legs that had previously been hidden beneath stuffy skirts long and smooth as they wrapped around him desperately…
Her body wasn't as he had remembered it: frail and unyielding. She was no longer the defiant teenager who had reluctantly given him her virtue after too many glasses of champagne. But a woman. A woman who wanted him, needed his darkness just as much as he needed her light.
And he relished in the fact as he made love to her, kissing her lips, her neck, every inch of her beautiful skin, craving the feeling of her flesh slick with sweat against his, hearing her moan his name again and again and again…
She wanted him. Not Dawson, not a life hiding from her past in the shadows… But him, even after all of the terrible things he had done to her, the things they had said, the scars they had left…
She had come back. And, somehow, that was enough.
xXx
"You know you could stay here...With me..." he said, basking in a moment of spontaneity.
Caledon Hockley was anything but spontaneous. Rose raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"You heard me…" He grinned, propping himself up against a pillow.
She only scoffed, closing her eyes as she rested her head on his chest. .
"Rose, I mean it," Cal continued as he traced his finger along her back in contemplation, "We could start over, the two of us..."
Rose finally met his gaze, her lips pursed in practicality. "And what about your wife? The one you're so 'blissfully' married to?"
"My wife doesn't love me, she loves my money." Cal mused flatly.
"Well what about your children then?"
He frowned. "I'm sure they'd be alright without me."
"Even your daughter?"
Cal paused, tilting his chin up to look at Rose, offering her a weak smile in defeat. She could see right through him.
"I'm not losing you again." he stated, his eyes hard as he stared at the woman next to him, using every last ounce of energy in him to remember the smallest details about her in that moment: the way her flames of hair were splayed across the pillow in graceful waves, her eyes beginning to droop, falling to the temptation of sleep…
She yawned. "Well, I hate to disappoint you but I have a train to catch in the morning."
Cal felt his heart drop, his breath catch in his throat…
"Where are you going?" He whispered, tried to hide the panicked shake in his voice.
To him? To be a whore to a gutter rat?
Glancing at him, Rose smiled softly, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek, her lips grazing the rough shadow of stubble along his jawline. "It doesn't matter, I'm here now…"
"That isn't enough." he sighed, swatting her hand away.
"Cal, please-"
"I love you, Rose." He blurted suddenly as he pushed Rose off of him.
He had never said those words aloud to a woman, the fear gnawing inside of him that she would see him for the weak excuse of a man he truly was… He felt as if the air had been sucked from his lungs, the spacious suite suddenly much smaller than he remembered. He had never felt so exposed, so helpless…
"You can't leave again, I won't let you…" he continued, his words quaking with desperation.
She only stared at him, unblinking. He needed her to say something, anything…
He could feel the bitter taste of bile rising in his throat. He needed to vomit.
'I'm not going anywhere…" she whispered finally, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself on top of him.
As she kissed him again, wanting him again, he silently ached that the night would never end.
xXx
The morning light streaming in through the window was only just a hazy glow when Rose opened her eyes again. It couldn't be much past dawn.
Turning to face Cal she found he was still asleep.
She couldn't help but smile as she gazed at him, the way his chest rose and fell peacefully, his eyes darting behind the lids every couple moments as he basked in his dreams. She was almost tempted to run her fingers through the soft tufts of hair that were falling in his face, bury her head in the crook of his neck, losing herself in the comfort of his familiar scent, never leaving him again…
But before her fingertips could graze his skin she pulled herself back, remembering who she was and why they would never work no matter how hard they tried.
Sighing, she sat up, carefully pulling herself out of the bed, retrieving her clothes from around the room where they had been scattered in their lust-fueled tryst.
Buttoning up her dress, her eye fell on a notepad on a nearby desk. Quickly, she wrote out a note, an apology; as if breaking the heart of the man who truly wanted her could be forgiven…
Grabbing the rest of her things, she looked once again at Cal laying tangled in the blankets they had shared blissfully hours ago in their intimacy. She felt her step falter as she made her way to the door, her own chest feeling as if it was going to collapse… Tears fogging her eyes, she willed herself not to cry.
Suddenly, in the back of her mind she heard a familiar echo of a rhyme, something her mother had once told her when she was a little girl in a moment of peculiar tenderness:
When you love something you set it free. And if it comes back to you, you know it's meant to be.
And in that moment Rose knew why she had come where she had, willingly ending up falling into the arms of the one man she thought she despised, betraying every instinct…
He was one place where she had felt like she was home, where she could rest from wandering aimlessly to try to find warmth, looking for the next adventure that would trick her into being alive…
With Cal she didn't have to think twice, she didn't have to force herself to feel…
She knew she loved him. She wanted to scream it from the windows, tell every person walking by that she loved Caledon Hockley. She wanted to revel in the one truth she had always denied herself.
But that was why she had to leave. She couldn't. She would only bring him misery as she had done before. And he had to find that out on his own.
Turning away, she opened the door. Taking a shaky breath she walked away, taking with her the last remaining shards of her heart.
