The Sea of Silver

A/N: Thank you for those who reviwed! This is my first Titanic fanfic and it makes me feel really good: five reviews in under two weeks. You guys really inspire me. I'm not quite sure how to spell Carpithia, so please forgive me if I made a mistake. Or Fabio- I am throughly confused if it's Fabio or Fabzio, or Fabsio, so I'm going with Fabio. Once again, if I made a mistake, please forgive me. It's pretty late at night. :)

Soundtrack: Between The Bars- Metric

Jack

The ship of dreams was just that, for Jack. A ship filled with impossible hopes and more of a future on the other side of the Atalantic. And Jack had accepted it in stride, smiling, grinning with Fabio, opening his arms out to the sea. And then, of course- he met her. The starry eyed, red haired girl wih hopes and dreams that girls of her class didn't usally have- hers courted freedom and love and life in itself. She was a free, vibrant, selfish, spoiled, brave, rash, and completely unusual girl. She had even tried to spit once. She had awakened something in him that had lied dormant in him. And he loved her for it. And then came that night, that smelled of smoke and salt and water. The ship had sunk. And he fell asleep next to her, fully aware that he might not awaken again. But, in that little moment, he had decided, that that was how he wanted to die. Next to her, clutching her hands, and that was all. He had fallen asleep under the influence of cold and the lure of the stars above him.

Even now, Jack is still scared. He is pretty sure he had died, or something close to it, because for a few moment he had been hovering above the stars, one of the stars, watching his cold body and Rose breathe rapidly while singing. Then he came to awareness and dove back for control, but his eyes were colsed, cemented shut by the ice clinging to his lashes. He had heard her speak, but almost as if he were under water and she was speaking to him from above it, and for the life of him he couldn't open his mouth to speak. He heard the soft sound of her crying, and then the pressure of his hands lessened and then he was floating. In and above the waves, and the water lessened the ice on his eyelashes. Moments after that boat picked up Rose and she fell asleep, he was in the boat next to her (swimming, like a marathon race runner. Or so it felt. He was still a little meddled). He held her while she was sleeping. And then they were seperated on the Carpthia, and he hadn't seen her again. He knew very well she thought he was dead, and he had no bigger wish then to prove her wrong, to hold her and kiss her okay, but he couldn't. He didn't even know were she was, how she was doing. If she was married. But she would have moved on- Jack wasn't that important. But the same could not be the same for him- Rose was everything for him. And she would always be. So losing her, for him, was equivilant to losing a heart or a lung or some other important organ: it hurt, and it hurt like hell. And it still hurt, when he moved or something that was the same vibrant red of her hair or green of her eyes. Or the tinkle of bells her laughter. Anything, really, even the sun. Or smoke and salty icy water. Or even the stars.

And now he's on another boat, heading back to Europe to find more people to draw and maybe help on ships- Jack's strong enough to help with that. And he has a cat, affectionatly named Silvie for his grandmother. He had honestly considered calling her Rose, but then he decided he hadn't said her name out loud in over three years. It would hurt, he knew. Like someone had ripped out his heart. So he had settled for Silvie, and she had settled into his heart. Between he still loves her- her memory and the taste of her lips, like salt and danger. She was too good for him, he keeps telling himself, that she doesn't deserve someone like him. And that God had driven them away from each other- but his heart still hurt. Jack knew what pain was. He's always known, ever since he'd seen that ring on on her finger symbolizing she'd belonged to someone else, other then him- Mr. Cal Hockley-

Rose

"Cal is on the ship. Repeat that again Molly- I'm pretty sure I've just turned hard of hearing."

Molly's throughly nervous now, Rose's cabin suddenly hot. She meets Rose's glare in the mirror. "He was, um, in the first class dining room when I passed it. I saw him. He was talking with someone who might've been his wife. I swear I didn't know, but Ruth isn't on the ship. I checked." She talks quickly, eager to get the words out in the fact that Rose's agner would subside. It does, but not because of Molly. Her mind has raced ahead. Cal had finally found a wife, and she still isn't married- any potential suitors are driven away by her wild, unhindered spirit, and Rose knows that no first class man would even so much as look at her anymore. A new beggining. They could start again. It's something that Rose wants. Not a relationship with Cal- an apology. And a new beginning as friends.

She finds him drinking wine and staring out over the sea, up out on the deck. She taps his shoulder, harder then nessecary, because her hands are shaking. His face relaxes into a smile when he sees her. "Rose!" He envelopes her in a hug, and she notices that he smells like wine.

"Cal Hockley. Who would've thought I'd ever see you again?"

"I'm traveling to Paris- a potential buisness oppertuinity. After the Titanic..." he trails off, looking dejected, then starst again, "Say...did the tr- I mean, um, Jason, or what's-his-name survive? Are you married to him?"

Rose swallows the lump down in her throat. If he were here, he would've laughed or slugged Cal in the face. She shakes her head slowly. The lump returns with each wag of her head. There it sticks. "No..um...he died."

He's appearing to ignore her. "Jack!" he exclaims, delighted at finding the answer. Rose's vision swirls sickeningly about her head, and then she stares very determinedly at a star above Cal's left ear. It hurts worse then she thought it would- like it was Jack himself who thrust his hand into her chest and curled his fingers about her heart, and then with his beautiful smile, proceeded to rip it out. She holds a hand to her chest, and only then does her hearing return.

"Rose? Rose? Sweetpea? You look faint. Do you wish to lie down?"

It's his affectionate name for her- sweetpea- the name that she's always hated with passion. "My name is Rose," she manages to get out. "Not Sweetpea." Right before her vision goes black, she smells paint and sees two large orbs of green eyes. "Of course," she thinks she hears someone whisper in her ear.

o.O.o

Jack

Jack had found Silvie in the grungy streets of New York, prowlin about his legs and batting at his pencils. Jack could paint as well as sketch, and he did it almost as often as he drew. It cost fifty cents more to be painted, but Rose had only wanted to be sketched. Silvie was a New York City cat through and through, even stealing the little bits of Jack's food when he left it unattended for those short periods of time. Once, when he went after his food again, she'd then went so far as to bite him in the ankle. Then he'd decided he needed to go to Paris- New York City, for some reason, the girls here reminded him of his Rose too much. She was somewhere, he had known, but not his anymore. And then after sketching a certain one legged prostitute again, she'd given him a ticket. "A customer gave it to me. But I like this city too much." And after pecking him on the cheek and hopping out of the room, she'd slammed the door behind her. That was a lie, Jack knew. She wished as much as he did to leave the memories the city had caught for him. But he'd accepted it.

And now, smoking a ciggerate outside the deck, there's a familiar voice that Jack would've recongnized anywhere- Cal Hockely. "Rose? Rose? Sweetpea?" He travels to the side of The Mermaid to see a pale, skinny girl with red hair (nowhere near as bright as Rose's, Jack thinks with a pang) sagging in Cal's looks up at Jack, then down at Rose, then at Jack again, and seems to put two and two together. But two and two of what, Jack couldn't possibly know. He doesn't know her, and he pretty much hates Cal's guts, and so therefore is suprised when Cal doesn't pull a gun out on him. "She's fainted" is all he says though, so Jack puts aside his loathing for a later time and helps to bring her to the infirmary.

A lady, stout, with curly brown hair and a hat set at a jaunty angle, rushes ino the infirmary with a gasp and and shriek of surprise. She doesn't notice Jack, or Cal for that matter, and instantly rushes to Rose's bedside. Then she notices her vistitors. She glares at Cal first. "You," she gasps, face going pale. Jack feels a rush of confusion- the lady knew Cal. With her purse, she threatened and all but threw Cal out. Then she turned to Jack, chest heaving.

There's a tight, tense moment while the lady stares at him with wonder and Jack simply stands there, feeling uncomfortable. "You," she says faintly, but she doesn't raise her purse or try to beat him, so he continues to stand there. "Jack- Jack! It's me- Molly!"

And he remembers her now- the lady who'd lent him her son's suit, the only one who'd aided him. A person who knew Rose, once upon a time. A far away time, when the ship wasn't sinking and Jack wasn't miserable. Hoarsely, because his throat and tonuge didn't want to work, "Do you know where Rose is?"

She gestures to the occupied bed.

It is Rose, so he sees- the hair has darkened somewhat, but she also lost weight severly. She has the slightly shruken appearence of someone losing wieght who wan't meant to, bags under her closed eyelids and cheeks an extreme pale. He wants to hold her (I'll kiss you again between the bars where I'm seeing you) kiss her okay, kiss away her tears, but he can't. Her hand strays towards his, even in sleep. He pulls his hand back.

"Don't tell her I was here," he says to Rose's almost politely slumbering face, and with a glance that a tortured man might've given to Molly, he's gone.

Rose

She awakens when the door slams, to Molly's pale face. "Molly?" she says groggily, and she smiles at her. Molly returns the smile, but she looks like she's seen a ghost. "Whazdamdder?" she says, because sleep is clutching at her again. "You've just scared me, that's all," she says to Rose, but Rose feels as if Molly is maybe hiding something from her.

A/N: I lknow. Jack is a pain in the a**. I know this. But I thought it'd be romantic. Review!