Falling into the Ship of Dreams (Jack Dawson love story)

Not from here...

Fabrizio looked, did a take... And Jack, curious, followed their gaze to see... Avery, coming toward them. The activity in the room stopped... a hush fell. Avery suddenly felt self-conscious as the steerage passengers stared openly at this princess, some with resentment, others with awe. She spotted Jack and gave a little smile, walking straight to him.

He rose to meet her, smiling.

"Hello Jack."

Fabrizio and Tommy were floored. It was like the slipper fitting Cinderella. Though, they did not fail to see that little something twinkle in her eyes as she tried her best not to look at anyone else in the room. Was it... grief? Sadness? Pain? Why would she feel such things for these people who were considered by ants at her feet.

"Hello again," said Jack, smile still on his face.

The seventeen year-old girl felt her heart clench. "Could I speak to you in private?" She had to fight the urge to gag; she hated speaking so properly, especially in an accent she'd never had.

"Uh, yes. Of course. After you." He motioned her ahead and followed. Jack glanced over his shoulder, one eyebrow raised, as he walked out with her, leaving a stunned silence.

Jack and Avery walked side by side. They passed people reading and talking in steamer chairs, some of whom would curiously glance at the mismatched couple. He felt out of place in his rough clothes, though a little less when she noticed she didn't seem to mind it.

"So, you got a name by the way?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence, which had settled upon them for different reasons.

"Ave— Rose. Rose... De...Witt... Bukater."

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Are ya sure? 'Cause you don't seem..."

"I'm sure," she quickly replied, an edge of curtness in her tone. "Rose DeWitt Bukater," she repeated, as though to not forget it again.

Both eyebrows raised now as he took in the name. "Well, then that's quite a moniker. I may hafta get you to write that down."

There was an awkward pause.

Avery cleared her throat. "Mr. Dawson, I—"

"Jack."

"— Jack... I feel like such an idiot. It took me all morning to get up the nerve to face you."

He smiled. "Well, here you are."

She let out a small chuckle. "Yeah— I mean, yes," she quickly corrected herself, making sure she could pour in a much Britishness she could muster into her accent. "Here I am. I... I want to thank you for what you did. Not just for... for pulling me back. But for your discretion."

"You're welcome, Rose."

Avery sighed. "Look, I know what you must be thinking," she said, fighting back a frown. "'Poor little rich girl. What does she know about misery?'"

Jack shook his head. "That's not what I was thinking. What I was thinking was... what could have happened to hurt this girl so much she thought she had no way out."

God, if only you knew, she thought, feeling even more miserable than before.

"I... It's a long... a very long story."

Jack gave her a curious look, then shrugged. "I have time."

She swallowed hard. "No, you really don't wanna— want to know." She bit her lip as she watched his face grow more and more curious. "And I am almost one hundred percent sure you will think I am crazy and won't believe a word I am saying," she added.