HEARTS CAN BREAK
Chapter Twelve

Jack finished tying Rose's lifebelt straps as they leaned against the promenade wall. The song the band had been playing haunted him, in particular the last verse. They had even given up hope.

There in my Father's home, safe and at rest,
There in my Savior's love, perfectly blest;
Age after age to be, nearer my God to Thee.

The band had suddenly become silent. He shivered, not wanting to know why. Rose backed up a bit against him and he took in the scent of her--rose water and fruit--and kissed her hair. He realized she was shaking with terror. As he looked over the side of Titanic, he saw why.

Dozens of people were so terrified that they were throwing themselves into the water. The women's skirts billowed around their ankles as they shrieked in midair, landing with a horrible splash in the water. Droplets of ice rained on the ship's hull in the aftermath.

Rose looked at him, confused and needing an answer. No one knew what was going to happen when the ship went under--would she explode or just slip beneath the waves? Was it best to jump off now or go down with her? Her blue-green eyes shined like glazed jewels as she searched his face, determined that he would know what to do.

He didn't, not really. He had never been in a situation like this. As his eyes closed, he allowed his memory to drift back to just a few short hours ago. Was that all it had been? A sunset, a breeze, a ship crashing through the waves, soft tender lips against his...and then gentle orange light, a charcoal pencil, and the most beautiful woman he had ever known...a car, passionate kisses, the feeling of skin mingling with skin...

Unexpectedly, tears began to form in his eyes. He blinked them away, his heart tearing in two. It hurt. It hurt too much to remember and even more to forget.

He felt Rose's eyes on him again, and he gazed back into them. Love shined in both souls. Somehow he had to try. He searched his mind--not the water. The water would kill in minutes.

"We have to stay on the ship as long as possible," he yelled over the horrible sounds surrounding him--splashes and screams and shouts. "C'mon!"

Rose's expression of distress eased somewhat when she realized that there was still a way to survive. She clung to Jack's arm as he pulled her upwards, to the stars...

To the stars.

She tingled with the familiar rush that could only come from Jack's hands and lips as he stopped and held the railing to catch his breath. The deck was so steep now that he was finding it almost impossible to reach the stern.

He turned slowly and saw Rose gazing over the sea. She was remembering another place, another time. He didn't want to think about how badly her soul would be scarred after seeing such horror tonight. Softly, he planted a kiss on her cheek. She turned and, he could see, wanted badly to deepen it, but there was no time. Smiling gently, she allowed him to continue the ascent.

Around them, people milled in the smothering sickness of fear. Rose's heart pounded like a thousand drums. Nothing could be worse than this. Absolutely nothing. Not wars, nor bombs, nor death. Nothing could fill her with such terror that she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Her body was physically exhausted, but her mind was alive with the horror of the thoughts that raced through her body.

Mr. Andrews--would he survive? What about Jack's friends, Tommy and Fabrizio? He would be devastated. She knew how much Jack Dawson treasured his friends, especially Fabrizio, whom he seemed to have known for years.

And Cora...oh, Cora. Rose wept at the thought of such a small, perfect child in the icy clutches of the North Atlantic. She remembered the little girl's pink cheeks and round nose, her smile when Jack spun her around, her cute little words ringing through the air like bells...

Rose had only known these people for such a short amount of time, yet her heart broke at the thought of anything happening to these people, especially something as painful as death.

Jack.

As much as it hurt to think of the others, she could barely breathe at the weight inflicted on her soul at the thought of Jack. If he wasn't all right after tonight--she couldn't go on. She wouldn't go on.

The screams of the people around her heightened as her foot slipped on the deck, causing her to come back to reality. Jack was dragging her up the stern, which was continuing to climb higher into the velvet sky. They were almost there--

This time she completely lost her balance. Her expensive fabric shoe slid on a wooden plank. Panicking, she groped for Jack's arm as her feet were suddenly torn out from under her.

"Jack!" she shrieked. Her body dropped to the deck. "Jack!" She needn't have bothered. Before she could utter another sound, two strong hands grabbed her round the middle and hauled her over to the rail on the side of the ship. She found herself staring into those electrifying blue eyes, eyes that were now begging her to trust him.

She trusted him.

"Rose," he murmured. "Rose, are you okay?"

No, she wasn't okay. She wasn't okay at all. The world was falling from beneath her, and the ocean was the only thing below. Death was hovering in the air she breathed, and the only thing that her mind could register was terror. Pure, raw, painful terror.

She was about to say such when she felt him move closer to her. His body melted against hers, his thin white shirt pressing against the overcoat and dress. He held her steadily by the elbows, and deepened eye contact. In order to look at her more intensely, he flipped a blonde strand out of his face. Behind him, he was bordered with stars. All her fear melted away at his touch. Under it, there was only one thing--a will of steel to survive.

She nodded.

Jack smiled, heartened by her sudden strength. He was tired, but somehow, looking into her eyes, all traces of exhaustion vanished into thin wisps around him.

He looked for a moment below. His horrified mind was forced to register the pain of others--people flailing in the ice water and others splashing beside them. For the first time, he saw death--a still, lifeless body of an officer drifting in the gentle waves of the sea. He gasped sharply.

It would get so much worse.

He was suddenly shoved with a need to go faster and get to safety while he could. In a matter of seconds, the deck beneath him tilted more. He knew that the time was almost gone--the time of present and past to future and unknown. The terror that clawed at his heart in these moments was indescribable, and, to keep Rose from seeing his tears, he drove onward.

His feet fought against the tilt of Titanic as a determination to save Rose captured his mind in resounded love. Every step he took was for her--for her beautiful self, inside and out, her long red curls, soft blue- green eyes, creamy skin, silver laugh...and the fire that flamed within her, that made her his Rose.

"Hail Mary, full of grace..." Rose turned to her right and froze. A priest who was a passenger aboard Titanic stood on a metal tool fixed to the ship's deck. He held the hands of the hopeless others who were clustering around him, some falling to kneel and pray, some groping for something to hang onto, all focusing on the Father.

"Be with us sinners in the hour of our death. Amen."

When Rose heard the Father say this, her body felt like a pool of water. In the hour of our death...it hadn't really occurred to her that she might die tonight. She was sure that the water wouldn't dare kill Jack or herself, knowing that they needed to be together for today and eternity.

But then she remembered that the sea had no heart and no feeling for love or death.

She clung more fiercely to Jack's arm, trembling. It was as if there was no way to escape--she was being smothered. He was watching the priest like he was spellbound, afraid, amazed, and sad all at once.

Little did Rose know, Jack was remembering his own small church in Chippewa Falls, the little five-roomed white-washed building in which he had spent every Sunday with his parents. He could still see his father; tall, strong, and handsome in a rough kind of way, and his mother, small, loving, and tender...he missed James and Anna Dawson more than he had in a long, long time. Then, in his mind's eye, he saw flames, a fire, leaping and burning into a million different shapes on the fine green grass, jumping up to the black sky. Then the screams... "Jack? Jack? Where are you?"

Why was his mind torturing him with these memories? He had felt guilty for five long, damned years and had heard those shrieks every night in his dreams...with two exceptions. Last night and the night before, all he had dreamt about was Rose DeWitt Bukater. It had been eternal bliss, feeling her against him, kissing those soft lips, thinking up things that he had thought would never happen.

He remembered those dreams coming true just hours before. His heart was thudding like a drum at those memories that seemed so ancient and yet so unexplored that he was overcome by unfairness. It wasn't right for love to be given so openly and then snatched away.

No! It wasn't going to happen that way. He wasn't going to let anything take Rose away from him like Pa and Ma. Heaven help hell if Satan tried to interfere. He was hers and she was his. They were one now and for eternity.

"C'mon," Jack murmured, trying to break out of his thought for Rose. Even if it was just for Rose, he needed to survive. Every step he took made the future.

She followed him, tears starting to stream from her eyes. Her body was screaming against every move she completed. It hurt. She was so tired. So tired of death and dying, of blood and sacrifices, of pain and hurt. Why couldn't this night be over?

For a second, she allowed herself to entertain the possibilities of giving up. Heaven...that didn't sound so bad, did it? It was then that she remembered that she was thinking the same way she had on the night when she almost considered suicide.

No, Rose was not ready to die yet.

"C'mon!" Jack yelled as he finally grabbed the rail on the stern of the ship. They were at the complete top of Titanic. Gasping for breath, Rose threw herself against his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around her and hold her safe. In that moment she felt as though maybe, just maybe, everything would be all right. She clutched at his shirt to hang onto him tighter. He was her foundation, her soul. If he was strong, she could be too.

Somehow she managed to glance to the right of her. There, with tears shining in terrified eyes and blonde hair sticking to pale cheeks, hung on a girl that looked so familiar...if only Rose could put a name to that face. Her breath was coming in thin, ragged gulps. Rose managed to smile at her. It would be okay. It would be fine.

Helga. The realization hit Rose like a stone. It was Fabrizio's friend from the third class dance. Her name was Helga and she was from Northern Europe somewhere. Sweden? She knew that Fabrizio and Helga had been starting to fall in love. Where was he?

She looked around desperately and could see nothing. A fear as white and chalky as her skin arose in her throat. If he wasn't with Helga, he couldn't be alive. Fabrizio would never leave Helga.

The night of a thousand stars, a thousand deaths.

Shivering, Rose pressed herself closer to Jack. She looked around, remembering Titanic as the majestic, mighty ocean liner that glided across still water hours before.

Jack was staring around him, terrified. He didn't know if he could possibly stand it anymore--the screams were boring into his mind and driving steel nails into his heart. God, he wanted to get out of here. Anything to get out of here. The desperation began to claw at him. He was overcome by a ferocious need to grab at his throat, to jump off of Titanic, to get his death over with. His mind was focusing only on the pain, the pain that would cut through his skin and bone to his soul--

"Jack!" He looked down and saw Rose against his body. It was a miracle, in the midst of chaos, to have his senses take in the sight of her. Her curls were blowing around her face and tangled with salt, but they still gleamed that fire shade that they always had. Her lips were still luscious curves of red. Her eyes, those pools of emeralds and sapphires, were searching his for a reassurance, any reassurance at all.

"This is where we first met," she murmured, her face breaking into her beautiful smile. It stunned him, what she said. He hadn't been paying attention. But he looked and saw she was right. This was where he had first spoken to the girl he had already fallen in love with. She had looked like a distressed angel sent down from heaven. In his mind, he could still see her--her red silk, black-beaded dress snapping around the rail in the wind, tears streaking her cheeks, windblown locks billowing across her face. Now she was that same troubled saint, but now she was looking deep into his eyes like she trusted him. He knew she did. She was so innocent, so beautiful.

If there was one thing Jack Dawson had ever known, it was at that moment. He knew that he loved her. He knew she was putting her life in his hands. And he knew that he would cross heaven and earth a million times just to save her from the ocean's depths.

With new determination, he pulled her closer to him and kissed the top of her forehead.

Chapter Thirteen
Stories