Written by Doug Kuhlman
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

Rose turned to Jack. In a confident air that left Jack no other option than to continue conversing, she asked, "So, where will you go from here? Will you be doing more drawings?"

Jack shrugged. "Probably. Mainly I need to show Fabrizio..." Noting Rose's puzzlement, Jack quickly explained. "He's my best friend in the world. He's from Italy and he's never been to America before. Anyway, I want to show him the sights of America. I might even try to get back to Wisconsin." Jack felt tiny cold claws caress his back at the thought of returning to his parents' graves, but he had promised himself to try to return there someday.

Rose had nodded along with his nebulous plans. He discovered that he wanted to get to know more about her, too. "So..." He paused briefly. "What about you? What do you want to do when we reach New York?" He tried to subtly accentuate the word "want" in his question.

Rose, apparently, missed the hint. She turned to him with a frustrated grimace. "Weren't you paying attention?" Some of her earlier indignant ire was starting to reassert itself. "I'm getting married." She waved the ring in front of him again, as if to prove her statement.

Jack nodded patiently. "Yes, I was listening. But I didn't ask what you are going to do, I asked what you wanted to do." This time the emphasis was stronger. Rose still didn't seem to quite understand where he was leading. It wasn't lack of intelligence that caused her confusion; it was sheer unacquaintedness with the territory to which the question referred. Jack elaborated for her benefit. "If you could do anything in the world, anything, what would it be? Don't be logical. What does your heart want to do?"

Rose looked uneasy for a brief moment She reexamined Jack--even more closely this time, if that were possible. He felt her eyes probing him, seeking to see if he could be trusted. Making the statement sound like a question (or vice versa), she said, "Promise you won't laugh." Jack nodded quickly, curious what she would like to do. "Well, I would like..." Here she trailed off, obviously uncertain of herself. After a deep breath, she tried again. "I want to be an actress."

Jack could feel Rose studying him intently. It seemed like part of her wanted to find a fault in him, find him laughing at her, so she could decry him as just like everybody else--freeing her to stay completely within herself. Another part seemed intent on keeping him nearby.

He really could not see her performing, but he didn't want to make the mistake of laughing, either. As a smoke screen to buy himself some time, he asked her, "Like on a stage?"

Rose seemed to think about this a moment. She shook her head. "No. I want to be in those new moving picture films."

She'd given him the time he'd wanted, but it hadn't helped. The thought of this upper-class prima donna making the effort necessary in an artistic profession--putting in the long hours of hard work, discovering bruise after bruise, getting rejection after rejection--was too much. He chuckled lightly. "You wouldn't last two days. There's no hot water and hardly ever any caviar."

Rose flashed hot in anger. She turned on her heel to face him, for they'd begun strolling again. "Listen, mister..." She was so irritated, she didn't quite know where to go from there. "I hate caviar!" Jack, who had sobered rapidly in the face of her sudden change of humor, had to struggle to keep down a new set of laughter. Of all the ways to respond, she picked the one niggling point. She came back to her senses a little and continued in a better vein. "And I'm tired of people dismissing my dreams with a chuckle and a pat on the head." She glowered at him.

Jack felt guilty for his reaction. He still couldn't quite picture her making the necessary sacrifices, but he didn't want to fall into the same mold the others in her circle had. Looking straight into her eyes, without a hint of condescension, he apologized. "I'm sorry." She didn't look convinced, but he was sincere. "Really...I am." He didn't even have to use his well-oiled poker face; it was simply a fact.

After a few moments that had Jack's heart pounding unnaturally hard for a reason he was unable to fathom, she seemed to accept that what he was saying was the truth. "Well, OK." They resumed their stroll around the deck, no longer uncomfortable with the other's presence.

After a few steps, Jack asked another question. "Why don't you just do it?" He sort of understood why she didn't, but he wanted to hear her explanation. What was easy for him wasn't necessarily easy for her.

Rose made a moue. Jack noted that even a sour expression on her face was lovely. A nearby man saw her discomfort and started to walk towards the pair to assist her in dealing with what, in his mind, was surely an uncouth ruffian. A quick glare from Rose and a shake of her head dismissed him before he'd taken more than two steps in their direction.

That distraction alleviated, she tried to answer Jack's question. "You don't understand..." She trailed off, obviously uncertain of how to continue. Jack agreed with that sentiment. Indeed, that was why he had asked the question in the first place. He was hoping for a fuller explanation. Just before he prodded, she stated, "It's just not that easy."

Obviously, no more was forthcoming. Jack liked to think he knew when to probe and when to be discreet. The latter was so obviously called for in this situation; even he couldn't mistake it. So he simply nodded. He did not understand. He probably never could. Again, the abyss of the difference in their lives gaped menacingly.

Before he could stop himself, he'd opened his mouth again. "So..." he said. He didn't know where to go from there, though. He wanted the conversation to continue, and Rose's body language strongly hinted that she had the same hope. However, neither of them knew what direction to take the conversation.

He paused to try to take stock and understand his emotions. Why was he yearning to spend more time with her? Certainly, she was beautiful--a striking face and an alluring body, but he'd known many attractive women. She was intelligent and interested in him, but that was also not completely foreign to him. Something, though, just seemed to draw him in and not let him go.

Jack forcibly pushed those thoughts aside to try to find a new topic. After a few seconds, a pause long enough to be noticed, but not so long it was uncomfortable, he succeeded. "So, Rose, you've heard about my childhood some. How did a rich, sophisticated girl like you end up..." He thought about continuing with "so unhappy" but reconsidered--the previous night was still too fresh in his mind. So he concluded with "here on Titanic?" It sounded a little ineffective to him, but at least it was a question.

Rose smiled, but it faded as she shook her head. "It's a long story."

Jack grinned back. "You got somewhere to go?"

Rose laughed at that. "No!" Heeding his motion to continue, Rose started to tell her story.

"Cal and mother and I are returning from a shopping trip in France. Mother insisted that Cal take us here so I could get the latest fashions to wear 'while on his arm at the upcoming events'"--Rose's voice had taken on a nasal tone that Jack could only assume was a none-too-flattering imitation of her mother's. "So, I've just come from Paris as well, although I'm sure you got to see more of it than I did."

She paused for a breath. In the space, Jack asked another question. "How did you meet Cal?"

She grimaced slightly. "Well, while I was at finishing school--learning how to walk, talk, eat, dress, and everything else--mother arranged for Cal's father, Mr. Nathan Hockley, to learn of my unwed, unpromised state. They contrived a dinner meeting so that the four of us could 'meet'. I felt like I was just on display! But by the end of the evening, I was somehow engaged to marry Caledon. Mother and Mr. Hockley set it all up."

"Mother didn't care about Cal or Mr. Hockley. She just saw the big dollar signs surrounding 'Hockley Steel.' I begged her to not make me do it. I really wanted to go to a university and learn more about...well, about everything! But she wouldn't hear any talk like that. We had quite a row, let me tell you. Ever since Dad died..."

They continued walking, as Rose paused awkwardly, a little embarrassed by how much she had said. Jack had been watching her with amazement. He was getting quite a tale. She had alternated between talking intently to him and seeming to be off in her own, secluded world. The other thing that struck him was the way she never used her mother's name, using the term "Mother" almost as a swear word occasionally.

The statement about her father, on the other hand, seemed to throw her some. She visibly calmed herself, squelched her grief, and steeled herself to continue. The last part of her astounding tale was certainly meant for Jack, as she looked into his eyes as she spoke. "Since he died, mother and I have fought frequently. He was the one who kept the family going. I miss him so much. And mother changed after his death, too. She got even colder. We barely know each other any more."

She again took stock of the situation, glancing around at the other milling passengers. No one else had seemed to notice the baring of her soul. She turned away from Jack and started walking again.

Jack's mind was whirling with the faith she'd shown in him, with the story she'd told, with their similarities, with everything that had happened that day. He still couldn't get over the way that she was sharing those things with him, after their so-very-brief acquaintance. He wondered how many of those things she'd even admitted to herself before. Being the recipient of such trust awed him more than a little, but it also made him want to protect Rose.

The other very surprising thing was how difficult her life really seemed. She really had had a difficult life. Sure, many of the circumstances weren't really beyond her control, but the death of a parent, as he knew from experience, really threw a lot of things out of kilter.

She interrupted his brief ruminations. She sounded out of breath with shock at how much she had shared with him. "Well, that's enough about me. I want to hear a little more about you. How does a poor person," she said the phrase with obvious relish, "get to Paris from Wisconsin? It is such a long ways."

Jack smiled. "You do want a long story, don't you?" As she nodded, he tried to organize his thoughts a little. "Well, after my parents died, I just couldn't stay in Wisconsin. I'd always heard about the great life in 'California'," he said with an obvious drawl, "so I headed out that way--well, I tried to, at least."

"The only job I could get at first was helping to harvest corn. Husking corn has to be one of the worst ways to spend a day." He shuddered a little at the memory. Rose reached out to touch his hand, calming him and encouraging him to continue. Once he got past the shock of feeling her skin next to his, he did so. "Going west was next to impossible, so I just went whichever direction my feet took me--as long as it was away. I worked south down to Kansas, where I spent some time harvesting wheat. I spent almost a year in a little town called McPherson helping set up an oil refinery, before I found a ride headed west."

"That got me to Wyoming, where I spent some time just walking around the Rocky Mountains. I hooked up with a guy named Hank there. He had some big ideas about finding gold and getting rich. I signed on to help and that got me to California. After a few months of panning for gold, though, and finding nothing, I skipped out on him and headed back north."

He checked Rose for signs of boredom, but she seemed interested in his life, nodding at the appropriate times. She seemed to be experiencing it vicariously through him. Of course, he was glossing over most of the unpleasant details--like nearly starving while going almost two weeks without food, and getting chased by some of Hank's other "friends" while he escaped that situation.

They stopped their walk and leaned against a railing. The majority of the afternoon was gone. It seemed only minutes had past since lunch, but the position of the sun and Jack's stomach let him know time had not stopped while they conversed--despite the way it seemed. He knew, though, that supper was still a while away. He wondered how we was going to get back down to the steerage dining hall for a moment before he remembered that he was going to dine in style that night. With Rose's companionship, it held significant promise.

Now, though, he continued his autobiographical narrative. "I stopped in Oregon and spent some time there as a logger. It was hard work, but I think one of the foremen knew my story and took pity on me, because he almost handed me the job and enough money to get some clothes and some food. Plus, I never seemed to have to work quite as hard as some of the other guys. Eventually, though, he headed north towards the Cascade Mountains in Washington. He wanted me to go with him, but I wasn't interested in heading any further north, so I signed on with a different boss. That was a mistake 'cause then I had to try to do a full day's job."

"That got to be too much work, so I went down to Los Angeles, to the pier in Santa Monica, where I sketched portraits for ten cents apiece." He paused longer than normal here, because Rose looked like she had something to say.

She did. "Why can't I be like you, Jack? Just head out for the horizon whenever I feel like it." At that moment, the horizon was a full orange, the dying light of the sun still softly supreme to the ship's lights. She turned to face him, a new light glimmering in her eyes. He'd seen that gleam before, but only in people who liked to take risks. Rose didn't strike him that way, but her words were "Say we'll go there sometime...to that pier...even if we only ever talk about it."

Jack's thoughts were a maelstrom after this statement, but one thought kept echoing through him--from the arch of his foot to the ends of his tasseled hair. When had he and Rose become "we"?

The End.

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