Disclaimer: I do not own anything to do with the incredible movie Titanic. Everything here, this story line, it's characters and anything else, except the actual ship, belongs to the fantastic James Cameron. I am merely turning it into a story, rather than a screenplay.

A/N: So here's chapter two. This was pre-written, which is why it's up so fast, the next one will definitely take a little longer to get up, but I'm working on it. Please review when you get to the end! Thank You!!

CHAPTER TWOKELDYSH

The atmosphere above the ocean's surface couldn't have been more different. There, drifting in the midst of the ocean, sat a small white Russian research vessel called Akademik Mistislav Keldysh, but more commonly known as Keldysh. As opposed to the dark murky world located just under the Keldysh, the afternoon sun beamed down on the little ship and all it's excitement.

As Mir Two was lowered into it's cradle by a large crane, the crew of Keldysh cheered exuberantly while the safe, dripping wet was carefully lowered onto the ship's deck by a cable.

Lovett excitedly bounded across the deck, closely followed by Bodine and a camera crew he had hired to capture his big moment. "Who's the best? Say it!" Bodine yelled over the noisy throng of workers, slapping an arm around Lovett's shoulder. Lovett smiled and shook his head. "You are, Lewis," he replied before looking back at the video crew.

"You rolling?"

The cameraman gave a thumbs up. "Rolling," he confirmed.

Satisfied, Lovett nodded to his technicians. Within seconds a loud saw was buzzing through the metal hinges holding the safe in tact. In order to work up the suspense, Brock began to speak to the camera. "Well, here it is, the moment of truth." He began, just as dramatically as he had been down in the submersible. "Here's when we find out if the time, the sweat, the money spent to charter this ship and these subs, to come out here to the middle of the North Atlantic, were worth it. If what we think is in that safe, it will be." He excitedly turned back to the safe, grinning wolfishly with anticipation at the little green box that could potentially change his, and his crew's, lives forever.

Brock nodded to a man in a bright orange jump suit, who clutched a fairly new looking circular saw in his gloved hands. The man stepped forward, powering up the saw. Behind Brock, Bodine, who had managed to get his hands on a bottle of champagne, popped open the bottle, spraying everyone in a mist of celebration. The sickening sound of metal on metal reached Brock's ears, but to the treasure hunter, it sounded like a chorus of angels.

"Okay, crack her open," Brock ordered another jumpsuit clad man. The man hooked an old rusty hooked chain to the front of the safe and pried the door open. The door fell to the deck with a loud clang that could hardly be heard over the sound of the men. Thick, brown, rusty water poured from the safe, bringing with it some old papers and notes. Brock moved closer, peering into the safe's muddy interior. He felt his stomach sink to the bottom of the ocean. Anxiously, he stuck his hand in the putrid thing, pulling more bits of paper and tossing them aside. His face fell as he pulled his hand out of the safe. "Shit," he muttered in disbelief. Bodine shook his head silently behind him. "You know, boss, this happened to Geraldo and his career never recovered," he stated bluntly. Lovett looked at him, trying not to believe a word Bodine was saying. The camera focused in on Lovett's face. "Get that outta my face," he said, swiping the lens away with the back of his hand.

Bobby Buell, a man with a rather large nose that had been cautiously covered in sunscreen, spoke to the investors of the necklace via satellite phone from the little lab deck. The little room was full of hustle and bustle as lab technicians carefully removed papers from the safe, carefully placing them into separate trays of water and washed artifacts from the stateroom, in hopes of preserving them.

"You send out what I tell you and when I tell you," Lovett yelled at the camera crew. He stood in the doorway, the crew cowering outside in the tight hall. "I'm signing your paychecks, not 60 Minutes," he reminded them before ordering "Now get set up for the uplink." The crew obeyed, returning to the launching deck.

Buell covered the phone with his hand and turned to Lovett. "The partners want to know how it's going," he said. "How it's going? It's going like a first date in prison, whattaya think!?" he hissed. Buell just shrugged offering the phone to him like it was a dangerous animal. Lovett snatched the phone from his hand instantly went cool. "Hi, Dave? Barry? Look, it wasn't in the safe," he raised his hand in an 'it's cool' manner, although the two partners could not see him. Brock waited for their response before he spoke again. "No, look, don't worry about it, there's still plenty of places it could be. In the floor debris in the suite, in the mother's room, in the purser's safe on C deck-" Brock babbled on and on, trying to please the men. He glanced around the room as he spoke, looking at the screens that were set up to the water trays. "Hang on a second," he said as he watched one of the screens.

Brock watched carefully as a pair of gloved hands sprayed a gentle stream of water on what appeared to be a pencil drawing. He gazed in awe at the picture, that despite being underwater for nearly ninety years, was still in excellent shape. It was a drawing of woman, posed nude with a sort of casual modesty. She sat on an Empire divan looking straight ahead, with a pool of light that seemed to radiate out of her eyes. Scrawled along the bottom of the portrait, Brock could just make out the date and initials. April 14, 1912, JD. But it wasn't the woman or the date that caught Brock's eye. No, it was what hung around the woman's neck. There, at her throat hung a necklace, that was cut into the shape of a heart. Brock stared at the hauntingly familiar necklace. But, no, it couldn't be the same one.

"Where's the photograph of the necklace?" asked breathlessly. Buell searched the pile of papers before him. He quickly shuffled papers around before producing a picture of The Heart of the Ocean.

Brock examined the black and white photograph, which featured a diamond necklace on a black velvet display stand, closely. He held it next to the drawing, examining every detail of the drawing's necklace and comparing it to the necklace in the photograph. "I'll be God damned," he breathed.

A/N: So, what do you think? Love it? Hate it? Like it? Despise it? A bit iffy? Want more? Let me know!! And as always, thanks for reading!!

-Lily Rose-