Disclaimer: I do not own Titanic or it's characters. I am just using them for my own amusement
Brock Lovett stared at the wall in his cabin morosely. It had been seven months since that fateful day when Rose Calvert nee Dawson nee DeWitt Bukater had climbed aboard the Russian research and salvage vessel The Keldysh and had torn apart everything he had thought he had ever known about the legendary ship Titanic. Rose had thrown his world off kilter and he was no longer sure if he was doing the right thing.
While it was true that before, he had cared nothing for those who had survived, perished and their living descendents, Lovett had always known that what he was doing was going to be controversial. Despite public outrage he had gone ahead and secured the biggest and most well equipped boat he could find and had gone to find the diamond that had been known as "The Heart of the Ocean", against major criticism from within maritime archaeology groups and the advice of some, namely his ex-wife. He just didn't like being told what to do and was never particularly bothered by such a petty thing as ethics.
But now his mind whirled. Questions that had been asked of him that had never seemed important, were now constantly on his mind. Was it ethical to be scavenging the ship and digging up a past best laid to rest in peace? What was his search for "La Coeur de la Mer" really going to prove? That he was an exceptional and hard working archaeologist, out to discover the true mysteries of Titanic? Or that he was nothing more than a vulture, a scavenger, only interested in money and fame?
He recalled the look on Rose's face when he had talked of the diamond. It had been a look of filled with pain. Pain and pity, like she had known that the search would yield nothing and to chase this dream would be too painful. Titanic had always been a story to him. It had never occurred to him once in the months prior to Rose's arrival that what he was doing was wrong and painful to those concerned.
But in the few minutes that Rose had begun to tell her tale, he had been hit with the painful truth. Titanic was not just a story. It had been life. People had lived and died on this magnificent ship. Tragedy had struck everyone on that fateful night in April 1912. And here was the living proof sitting not 10 feet away from him, recounting those agonizing last few hours for him. Through her retelling he had suffered along with her. He had felt her pain and it all became suddenly real. That was when the unsettling feeling had spread through him. All he could think was am I doing the right thing?
He sighed. This was all he had been doing lately. Thinking. And sitting in his cabin brooding over ethics. Since when had he cared about ethics? There was only the hunt for the treasures buried deep beneath the ocean in the hull of Titanic and ethics had no place in that world. Lovett knew that there were other researchers and treasure hunters eager to dive Titanic and plunder it's holds. Perhaps they would have better luck?
No. Lovett shook his head. He did not want others to come and devour the ships' secrets. He wanted those for himself. Titanic was precious and deserved to be handled delicately. She would yield only what she would allow him to. Brock now respected the great ship and those who had perished on her. Not every one had his new perspective. They seek only money and fame.
If he was truly honest with himself, each new discovery thrilled and filled him with more awe and respect every day. Each day he grew closer to understanding Titanic and unlocking her mysteries. He likened himself to Howard Carter in his race to unlock the tomb of Tutankhamen. He snorted in amusement as he imagined himself dressed as an Indiana Jones type, brandishing a bullwhip, lying in a MIR submersible as he navigated the perilous deep of the Atlantic Ocean.
"Brock?" The low voice at the door startled him. Lovett pulled himself out of his thoughts and turned to the door. Lewis Bodine, the technical whiz for the Titanic mission stood nervously at the door, his large frame filling the doorway. "Phone call for you. Seemed pretty important." Lovett nodded sharply, and turning back to the wall, resumed his staring, dismissing him instantly.
Bodine sighed and shook his head. He was used to Brock's moods now. Bodine and Lovett had been friends for years and Bodine thought he knew Lovett pretty well. They'd shared everything – from their first joint to girls and everything in between. Bodine prided himself on his knowledge and ability to know what his friend was thinking. However lately things had changed. Brock had turned more introverted and no longer participated in the banter that normally flowed freely between them. Bodine worried about his friend. It seemed that no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to pull the other man out of his self induced funk.
He stared at the other man, wondering for the third time that day how to reach his friend. "Brock?" He tried tentatively. There was no reply. "Hey, Brock? Dude? Buddy?" Brock looked up again, irritation now clouding his eyes. "What?" he snapped. Bodine raised his hands in a calm-the-hell-down kind of way and said, "Whoa, hey! Just the messenger boy here! Though I don't know why the hell Tony sent me up in here, botherin' your lazy ass." In fact Bodine knew very well why Tony the site manager had sent him up here – no-one else dared even enter Brock's office for fear of incurring his all too frequent tempers.
"Yeah? Well what the hell do you want?" Lovett said gruffly.
"I don't know what the hell's the matter with you. I ain't even gonna try knowing. Anyway, you ungrateful bastard, you gotta phone call. A pretty damn important one too, so get your ass moving. If you ain't gonna get up you know I have no problem dragging your skinny ass down there." Brock sighed and resignedly got up, knowing Bodine would make good on this threat. He walked out the door heading in the direction of Tony's office, no word of thanks to Bodine who raised an eyebrow at his attitude.
"Yeah." Bodine sniffed. "Thanks would be nice. Bastard."