A/N: ...Hey! Okay, I know how late it is that I'm posting this. I meant to update much, MUCH sooner but I was never satisfied with what I had written. The amount of drafts I went through to put this together is... unreal. Every time I wrote something out that I thought was a half-decent length, it just never felt right after giving it a read-through for editing. (I guess that qualifies for some type of writer's block...) I really tried to create something that would provide some form of closure, although the plot I decided to go with doesn't allow much of that.

So finally, here it is. Although much shorter than intended, I feel that this does justice to this book's ending and provides an appropriate lead into the next book (for which I intend on posting the first chapter within the next one or two weeks).

Chapter 25: How Far We've Come

In late autumn, one of Blythe Hamilton's colleagues, Mr. Chester Dickens, from the West end of L.A. contacted Jack about his artwork. He was very interested in Jack's style and his subject choice, and he thought it would sell well in his gallery. In no time, Jack had signed onto another contract for a collection due February, and needless to say, he was thrilled to start working on some more painting again.

Paul was growing up in a flash, just as was Matthew. They shared the same room, so when Paul grew out of his crib, he was sharing a bed with his brother since there was only one for the time being and they could both comfortably fit in the one they already had. Matthew was growing into a charming, talkative little boy. Paul seemed to be quieter in his disposition, and did not learn how to talk as early as Matthew had.

Sophia gave birth to a little girl that February and they named her Isabella. It was the happiest and proudest moment in Fabrizio's life, and he cried that day. As he gazed upon the form of his innocent daughter who seemed so tiny in his large arms, he swore to himself that he would do his best to raise this little girl right and to protect her from the cruelties of the world. She was the most precious thing that had happened to him and he thanked God for such a blessing. He now understood perfectly the feelings Jack had described to him a year earlier about fatherhood. His mother, Anna, was a proud grandmother: Isabella was after all her very first grandchild. She was ever thankful to be in America to be able to spend such joyous times with the only family she had left.

As the rest of the winter months passed and spring was blooming, life went on for the Dawsons and the De Rossis. Little Isabella was receiving much love and care from her parents and grandmother, as well as from the Dawsons. Once a week, Rose would bring her children over to Sophia's house with Nellie for a ladies day to socialize and talk about everything under the sun while their husbands were at work during the day. They all were growing into becoming very close friends. Nellie and Sophia even taught Rose how to knit, which was something Rose found she enjoyed once she got the hang of it. Jack thought it was funny: he remembered it as an activity his mother used to do when she got together with her friends for an afternoon. Bertha would join them but only on occasion because of the larger family she had to take care of.

On Friday, April 6th, 1917, the U.S. formally declared war on Germany. President Woodrow Wilson assured that the world must be made safe for democracy. Everyone was devastated for they all thought they could remain a neutral nation but now they were officially involved in the war that was ravaging the world. Among those in shock from the news were the Dawsons, De Rossis, Rundells, and the Finches.

That evening, Jack was tucking the boys into their bed. Neither of the two was willing to fall asleep yet, so Jack began telling them a story about one of his travelling adventures—an exaggerated version, nonetheless, just enough to please the wild mind of a child. Both boys were captured by his vivid imagery and animated storytelling. None of the three noticed that Rose now stood in the doorway towards the end of the story. As Rose admired the heart-warming scene, she thought of how sweet a father Jack really was towards his boys. He was just really good in general with all kids, it seemed. He had a special way with them. She gazed at him in awe at how he was able to pull the young boys right into the story with their full attention on him.

It was only but a few moments later that the little boys perceived their mother and glanced over in her direction at their bedroom doorway. Jack noticed both their eyes darting over past him at the same time and he turned to follow their gazes as he was telling them the story. A grin spread across his features when he saw her. Rose smiled back from the corner of her lips, and nodded at him to carry on, not wanted to interrupt. She walked in and sat by Jack on the edge of their bed and just observed and listened. Jack soon finished his story.

"One more, papa!" Matthew begged, tugging at his father's sleeve. It was evident he was not yet sleepy. On the other side, Paul was already fast asleep.

"I have to save that one for another night."

Matthew protested as Jack chuckled as he pulled their covers up to the boys' chins.

"Mama, sing the flying machine song," Matt asked his mother instead.

Rose smiled gently at him, brushing his cheek with her finger. One night, when he was just a baby, she just began humming that song to him out of nowhere. Since then, it had become the standard lullaby for the Dawson kids, among their favourites.

"Alright, but you have to close your eyes," Rose gently urged him. Like that, she hoped it would make a good trick to get him to fall asleep sooner. Matt easily complied: anything to hear his mother's soothing voice.

Come, Josephine, in my flying machine

Going up she goes

Up she goes

Balance yourself like a bird on a beam

In the air she goes

There she goes

Up, up, a little bit higher

Oh, my—the moon is on fire

Come, Josephine, in my flying machine

Going up, along, goodbye...

Rose ended her lullaby in a whisper as Matt had just dozed off. Rose leant down and kissed their each of her sons' foreheads, as did Jack in turn. When they left, they let the door open by a crack.

"I'm going to make some tea, how about you?" Rose asked, making her way down to the kitchen.

"Sure, I'll have one," came his reply.

In the meantime while waiting for the water to boil, they put away the dry dishes. Once the kitchen was cleaned and things were put in their proper places, they went over to the parlour room. Rose was curled up next to Jack sipping her tea.

"I was just thinking," Rose began after they had been sitting for a few minutes.

"Hmm?"

"You're such a good father to the boys, and I don't tell you often enough."

Jack looked at her curiously, wondering in what way she meant. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, well you know... just your way. You're so kind and patient with them. They look up to you, Jack."

The corner of his lips curled slightly; he could not hide how pleased it made him to hear that. "I only do my best—the way my pop treated me. I try to live up to what he taught me."

"Well, I for one think that you're the best father any child could have," Rose reassured, patting his knee.

He responded by smiling softly. After a sip of his tea, Jack spoke. "I'll tell you what, as a mother, you remind me of my mother."

Rose's face lit up, "Really?"

"Yeah. I remember she would sing me to sleep and kiss me on the forehead 'goodnight'. She was by my side in an instant whenever I had a nightmare. She just knew. She had so much love you give—like you," he kissed her temple.

They sat in silence for a moment, occasionally sipping out of their cups, each lost in thought. Then Rose spoke up, "You miss them, don't you." It was more of a statement.

"Hmm?" Jack glanced over, suddenly pulled out of his thoughts.

"You miss your parents."

"Well, you know," Jack leaned forward, setting his empty cup on the coffee table. "It's been almost ten years since they died. Sure, I miss 'em."

"In the years that I've known you, you never really do talk about them."

He clasped his hands together and leaned on his knees, "What's there to say? Not much—they died when I was fifteen and that's all there is to it."

Rose frowned at how quickly he was dismissing the matter. "But you were so young." She had heard this story from him on a couple occasions, but he never at all spoke of it in too great detail, which she understood. She just was trying to figure out how he turned out so... normal considering all he went through.

"Yeah," Jack leaned back, threading his hands through his hair, "and there was nothing I could do about it. Things happen in life and you're forced to grow up."

Rose considered this. In some ways, perhaps she wasn't so different from Jack, she thought. Her childhood was robbed from her as was Jack's. She had desperately craved a real relationship with her parents, and even more so with her mother. Jack lacked any real parental figure during his most important teenage years and that must have hurt him. Rose knew that deep down he craved to have had his parents during what she thought to be the toughest years for a boy growing up into a young man. One thing she could say is that Jack was wise beyond his years.

"I don't think about that day. They left me with all they taught me in the time that we had, and that's something I hold dear to me and carry with me every day," Jack nodded to himself in affirmation of his own statement.

Then again, Rose thought, he was more fortunate than she for having had parents who taught him meaningful things—things that really only mattered in life.

"I do miss them," Jack continued. He shook his head slightly, "Sometimes I think about them, and I wish to God they had lived to see me now." There was a tinge of sadness is his voice, coming from the back of his throat. "But that's destiny... I think." Rose looked at him, urging him to elaborate his deep statement. "If I had not set off in the world at fifteen, I would have never met you," he finished as his eyes met hers.

Rose was amazed at his strength and how grounded he was as a person after all he experienced at such a young age. He knew so well who he was and what he believed in. That was what struck her about him when she first met him. She was proud of who he was as a person. Setting her empty cup down, she took his hands in hers and looked him in the eye. "And if they could see you know, they would be proud," she told him sincerely.

Jack smiled softly, grateful that she thought so too. "I know," he murmured. "They would have loved to have grandkids," he spoke up. "And they would have loved you."

Rose smiled back at him as he squeezed her hand before kissing it. It meant so much for her to hear that.

"Do you ever think about your parents?" Jack suddenly asked.

"Sometimes. I never really got to know either of them very well. But I always did feel closer to my father than my mother, until he passed away."

"How 'bout your mother?"

"Now and then, yes I think about her." Darkness then swept in her eyes. "And I still can't bring myself to forgive her for all she put me through, in spite of the time that has gone by... But Jack, you know that story," she looked at him, wondering why he was asking about her when he knew very well how she felt about her mother.

"Yeah, but you know... she is alive—the only one out of our parents. Don't you ever wonder about her?"

"Oh," Rose sighed, "I suppose she's still living a lavish life. She would have found some way to stay in that world."

Jack chuckled, "You think so?"

"I don't doubt it. It would have killed her to become anything less." She then added with humour, "You should have heard her. She was always reminding me of how she would end up a seamstress if I wouldn't marry Cal. To her, that was the end of the world." Rose paused, appearing thoughtful. "I kind of felt for her, though. She lived in luxury her whole life; she could never adjust to a lesser lifestyle. In a way, it was my feeling sorry for her that kept me engaged to Cal." That—and my fear of breaking free, Rose thought to herself. Until I met you.

Jack grinned lopsidedly, "I still can't wrap my head around how the person you are came out of a society like that. Like I said before, you got mailed to the wrong address." Rose laughed at the familiar echo of his words.

It had been almost five years since the last time he had uttered those similar words to her. Five years, she thought her herself, amazed at how the time seemed to have flown by and how very little had changed between them, but so much had changed in the world surrounding them. A dark shadow seemed to sweep across her features as she recalled the news that had shocked her earlier that day. She quickly pushed it out of her thoughts for the time being.

They sat in each other's company for the rest of the evening, talking about any random thought that would cross one's mind, but mostly they sat in silence just enjoying each other's presence.

After some time, the silence of deep thought was cut by the sound of Jack yawning and him scratching his knee though the fabric of his pants. Suddenly, he stood, and turned to her as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Gettin' late," he mumbled.

"Are you headed to bed?"

"Yeah," he sighed restfully. Then, he held out is hand out to her, "You coming up too?" She took the hand he offered as a response

The one topic they tried to avoid all night since the news had first struck them earlier that day had once again resurfaced in their minds after everything else was said and done for the night, and they were up in their room changing.

Since the war broke out in 1914, they heard news about it here and there. But they began to hear more and more of it especially in the recent year, and it was now becoming overbearing. Quite frankly, neither of the two wanted to hear about it or talk about it anymore. However, after today, the matter was now impossible to ignore.

After she was done changing and brushing her teeth, she lay back in the bed and risked breaking the ice. "There's no use avoiding it any longer, and you know it just as well as I do by now." Jack flinched as she brought up the subject, and hesitantly resumed folding up his shirt. "America is at war." He let her words sink in. Neither of them thought they'd ever see this day. When he did not say anything, Rose felt she needed to add more. "Jack, you do realize what this could mean for us... don't you?"

"...I know," he quietly answered after a pause, with some resignation in his voice.

"What are we going to do if the U.S. imposes a draft?" Rose then asked worriedly. Jack slipped on his night shirt as he glanced at her when he sensed the fear in her tone. "I couldn't bear to lose you," she quietly as tears began to brim her eyes.

"Hey," he said soothingly as he made his way to sit by her on the bed. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head against his chest, and he wrapped his around her shoulders, laying his chin atop her head. "You're not gonna lose me. I won't let it happen." After Rose did not respond, he pulled away to gaze into her face. "Look, we can't live in worry." Rose gulped back her tears that threatened to fall as she stared back at his face. She knew he was right. "We just have to keep living day by day, and keep making it count. No matter what," he put his forefinger beneath her chin and looked deep into her eyes and whispered, "we'll be alright."

"I hope you're right." They held each other for a long while until she spoke again. "What is it about this time of year?" Jack knew she was referring to the disaster they had survived, and the U.S. entering war, all in the month of April.

"I don't know." Jack did not know what else to say; for the first time, he was at loss for words to say anything to console her. All he managed to do was to squeeze her in his arms and to kiss her hair.

They remained embraced as they both drifted off into a distressed slumber. The future that had once seemed so bright and optimistic, and now they could only see it filled with fear and unknowing of what else life could throw at them. In spite of everything, they still maintained a sense of hope, knowing that after all they had already been through in their journey together, they were doing just fine.

Looking into the past, they found no regret, but satisfaction in what they had managed to accomplish. It would be nearly five years since their paths crossed, changing their lives forever, and they admittedly still felt the same about one another since when they first met. Above all else, that was what remained of importance, especially in times where they would need each other most as they would learn to find out.

[To be continued...]

A/N: I have to apologize for this pitiful excuse for a wrap-up (I'm not the best at endings). I know how patient most of you have been! Thanks for the wait, and I hope this was more-or-less satisfying. As my closing statement and last author's note for this fiction:

So, four years later and here we are: finally finished. I realize that's long and kinda pathetic, but a lot has happened in my life over that time (haven't we all heard this one before…). It doesn't really bother me that it's taken so long, so I don't feel ashamed. I'll tell ya what, though: I first started writing this story for myself. I kept writing it for that same reason. But I'll admit that sharing it with others and getting reviewed for it was a bonus!

I thoroughly enjoyed writing Titanic: A Life Journey. Although there are some bits and quips I feel I need to change (and have actually grown into disliking a whole lot), I would say that for the most part, I'm proud of how it turned out. [Yeah, sure, maybe I'll change some of that stuff I'm not happy with in the future. For now, I'll leave it as is.]

My thanks to everyone who read this story, to those who put it in their favourites and/or alert lists, and most importantly, to those who reviewed it. In all honesty, your reviews truly fuelled my story in that reading them gave me the drive to keep writing it all this time, as I've said before.

"Where do we go from here?", you might ask. Let me direct you to my profile page for further info on the second instalment on what I hope will be a three-book series. I'm so stoked for the sequel—I have a lot planned! I wrote a lot of the content at the same time I was writing this story because I kept getting so many ideas. Anyways, keep an eye out for it... It'll be riveting!

Lastly, you should put me on "Author Alert" so that you know when it is that the sequel gets posted, if you're interested.

And any final comments, overall/general remarks about my fiction... please review! One last time, at least! :D

Until next time.