Wrote this a while ago, and just stumbled upon it in my folders, hope you like it:)

She watched her daughter walk away, an icy cool in the young woman's eyes.

"Rose" she called into the night air, but the call was ignored. She saw Cal chase his betrothed into the throng of people.

She knew the man had no chance in getting her affection. She knew Rose was going after that third-class scum. She knew her daughter had fallen in love with her saviour. But she hoped Cal would at least catch her, and put her on a boat.

Her daughter was the only thing she had left in the world.

As they watched the propellers lift out of the water, she prayed that Cal had managed to find Rose. She would even be thrilled to find her alive with that Jack boy. As long as she found her alive.

The people on the decks were running in sync, away from the rising water. As they ran, Roses words rang in her ears. 'Half the people on this boat are going to die.'

Those were the people, the unlucky many who were going to die. From the distance they were at, she couldn't tell first from third class. They were all just one, one large, condemned entity.

Deep inside of her, she knew Rose was a part of that entity.

When Molly had tried to convince the officer to turn back, she had wanted nothing more than to support her. She knew that the other woman was right, that they should help the people in the water. There was plenty of room on the boat.

But she held her tongue. She couldn't risk seeing Roses body floating in the water. She knew that if she saw her daughters eyes void of life, just staring up into the sky, that she would put an end to her own life.

She died in a much different life than she had lived before Titanic. She had spent the rest of her days in just slight luxury. The items that had remained in England had sold for just enough to keep her going, but she would have fallen even more if it hadn't been for Molly. The woman had rented her a room, and constantly 'forgot' to ask for the payments.

A nagging in the back of her head had constantly reminded her that if she had still had Rose, they would have had to get jobs.

She hated that nagging.

But, she had died happy. Although in debt to a woman she had once looked down upon, and significantly lower in class than she had ever been in life, the picture she hid under her pillow kept her joys up.

She had found the picture in a newspaper article in the twenties. The woman in it was a famous actress. She had recognized the face immediately. The pale skin, the curly hair, the deep eyes. The name just added to the joy. Rose Dawson.

She died knowing her daughter had survived the Titanic.

How was it, please review and let me know:)