October 28, 1929

"Cal," Rose greeted coolly to the man standing beside her. Caledon Hockley looked over to her, a sad, pained expression on his face.

"Rose," he greeted, trying not to let his emotions get the best of him. "It's been a long time."

"Seventeen years," she said. "How did you find me?"

"They ran an article on you. So I see you're an actress now," he said rather awkwardly.

"Yes."

"And you're married. Congratulations." She stared ahead.

"Thank you. I saw you got married as well. They ran an article in one of those tabloids. Your wife, she seems like a real doll."

"I believe the term is separated," he noted glumly.

Rose took a breath and breathed out. "Look, I know what you want to say, but first, you need to listen to me."

She turned her head to him for a moment before turning back to the boardwalk at the beach. The children weren't out of school yet. The men were still in work. The women were inside with their friends or at garden or book club meetings. They were virtually here alone.

"You suffocated me. You smothered me. Whether or not I was born in that first class world, I didn't belong there. I needed to make my own way, discover who I was."

"I know," he said softly, "and I'm sorry." She nodded.

"I am too."

"In the end, the money, the fortune, it didn't matter. It's all gone anyways. I've lost everything. I lost you, I lost my family, I lost my fortune, everything." Rose's jaw dropped.

"Cal, I-" He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter. This is the last time you see me. I just needed closure from this chapter of my life before I move on. I don't expect you to forgive me, I just need a chance to explain myself." Rose nodded to him and the forty-seven year old continued, "I regret what I put you through, Rose. It's haunted me all these years. I was jealous and selfish and stupid, thinking I had the world at my command, and in the process, I lost you, nearly killed you, and I have regretted that every day of the past seventeen years."

Cal sighed, running a hand through his hair, "Your mother," he continued, "she remarried, he was well off, a middle class man. He is an editor at the New York Times. She's alright, most of the times. Somedays when I saw her, she is lost in every way possible. She talks as if you are right there in the room and she thinks your father is still alive. On other days, she is completely aware of what happened. The days after we docked, she cried for hours every night. She blamed herself for you not getting in a lifeboat. We've thought you were dead for the past seventeen years!" he shouted, slamming his hand against the boardwalk railing, "We've thought you were dead and we tried to move on with our lives but we couldn't. Do you think any of us were so stupid to believe your little lie about wanting to see the propellers? Did you think we would believe such a thing when you had shattered your hand mirror and your pearl necklace was found by your maid all over the floor? Didn't you think that after some rational thought, it was clear that you tried to jump off the ship?"

Rose looked down at the sand below, then out towards the Pacific. "I'm sorry," she said softly, "I felt like I was drowning." She sadly laughed at the bad irony of that statement. "I felt like I was in the middle of everyone, screaming and screaming and no one could hear me. And then I could see my entire life, talking to the same people about the same mindless chatter and I just needed to escape and then I was at the flagpole at the stern of the ship and suddenly, not even the Titanic was big enough." She stared ahead, a pensive look on her face. "I would have jumped too. All I had to do was close my eyes and step forward and if I was lucky, I would have just drowned. I might have gotten caught in the propeller blades and been torn apart and-"

"Stop!" Cal screamed, unable to take it, "Please, just stop it!" he begged her. He begun pacing in a big loop as if trying to walk away, but couldn't.

"Jack said I wouldn't have. I don't know. I still don't know," she said. She looked at the once millionaire beside her, "Face it, Cal, we wouldn't have been happy together. In the long run, we would both had been miserable. I would have suffocated in First Class society and I would have dragged you down, not to mention destroy your image."

"Did you ever love me?" he asked softly, calming down to stare at the sea once more, "Or was I just a way to pay for your father's debts?"

Rose frowned, glazing out to the sea. "Did you ever love me?" she countered, "Or was I just a way to inherit your millions?"

Cal nodded, finding his answer in that. He looked as if he was going to say something, but decided against it at the last moment, turning and walking away.

"I did love you," Rose's answer came and Cal turned back, walking back to her, "I was going to tell you too, before that night I almost jumped. My point of life changed. When you first came into my room that night, I thought that maybe that there was still hope for us."

He looked down, taking her hands in his. "I wanted to give you the world." He looked up from the ground into Rose's gray eyes, "I wanted to make you happy, but whatever I did, it seemed to produce the opposite effect. I did love you; I still do and I am eternally grateful for our short time together, even though I didn't deserve it. It's something I will cherish forever." Cal leaned into her, and at first she thought he was going to kiss her. Her eyes closed, waiting for his lips to meet hers, but instead, she felt them touch her cheek, lingering for only a moment. His face stay beside hers for a moment, long enough for her to hear him whisper, "Goodbye Rose."

He pulled back from her, looking at her once more, as if memorizing her. For the first time in seventeen years, his face and his mind we at peace. Rose watched her ex-fiancé stare at her with utter and complete love and adoration and for the first time in a long time, she finally felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"Goodbye Cal," she whispered as he stepped away, his hands dropping hers. He turned again and Rose stuck her hands in her pocket, her eyes widening. "Cal, wait!" He turned and she pulled the Heart of the Ocean from her coat pocket. "We're well off, better than most. You need this more than I do. After all, it is yours." She told him, putting it in his hand. He shook his head, sticking the diamond back into her hand, closing her hand around the fifty-six carat stone.

"No, it's yours. I gave it to you. Keep it, sell it, do what you want with it, it's yours, Rose, yours. I'm not royalty anymore, but you," he said, taking in her well put together appearance, "you will always be royalty, to your family and whatever man you're with." A tear rolled onto her cheek and Cal brushed it away gently, as if he were afraid she might disappear. "Goodbye sweet pea." Her breath caught in her throat at his old endearment for her, despite the fact she had always hated it.

"Goodbye Cal." With that, he turned and walked away, down the boardwalk, back to the train station.

November 1, 1929

Rose opened the newspaper and dropped it the minute she did, her husband, John Calvert catching the paper and holding his wife steady.

"What is it? What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked her. Tears formed in Rose's eyes.

"I can't believe he's dead," she whispered, staring at the article on the paper. It read 'Caledon Hockley commits suicide after losing fortune.' The article continued to tell how he had put a pistol in his mouth after returning from California. His children are fighting over his estate. It detailed how the loss of his fortune was just another bad event that happened in a long chain of events. At the end of the article, it explained that his funeral would be held on the fifteenth.

"I want to go," she whispered to John, "Please. I know it's insane, but I need to see and-" she broke off with a choked sob. John Calvert nodded. He felt bad for his wife, that once she had finally made peace with her old friend, he killed himself. Rose felt bad for lying to John for all these years, about what had happened, about the Titanic, about Cal and about completely omitting Jack. Nevertheless, John would take her.

And somewhere from heaven, Jack and Cal had come to terms with what had happened on the Titanic, and decided that in death, they could be not quite friends, but associates of sorts, bonding only over their mutual love of Rose Calvert née Dawson née DeWitt Bukater, and were now watching over her.