A/N: This is my very first fan fiction story, so please review! I'm open to constructive criticism, just please be kind! This is a Titanic story, but it's based on What Alice Forgot by Liane Moriarty. Also, the summary is heavily based on Moriarty's summary. I do not own either of these stories.

Enjoy the story!

Titanic had sank. It had sank. The unsinkable ship had sank. Rose kept repeating that in her head. It just didn't seem real. She looked at Jack, whose eyes had never looked so blue yet broken.

"Winning that ticket, Rose, was the best thing that ever happened to me. It brought me to you. . . and I'm thankful for that, Rose. . . I'm thankful.

"You must. . . do me this honor. You must promise me that you'll survive. . . that you won't give up. No matter what happens. No matter how. . . hopeless. Promise me now, Rose. And never let go of that promise."

"I promise." She said softly.

"Never let go." He repeated.

"I will never let go, Jack," She said. "I'll never let go."

Rose lay on her back looking up at the stars. "Come Josephine, in my flying machine. . . and it's up she goes. . . up she goes," she sang quietly.

Rose saw the lifeboat. "Jack?" she whispered, squeezing his hand

"Jack." she said again, but he still hadn't responded.

"There's a boat, Jack." She cried. "Jack?"

•••

Everything went black after that. Finally Rose woke up in a strange white room, completely disoriented. Judging by all the medical equipment, she was in the hospital. A young doctor with perfect black hair and beautiful blue eyes walked into the room. His eyes reminded Rose of Jack's, but Jack's were more beautiful.

"Welcome back, ma'am, you were unconscious for a few hours there." he said, smiling, "My name is Dr. Walsh. Can you tell me your name, ma'am? We could not find your wallet."

Rose stared blankly at the painting on the wall across from her - a painting of children holding balloons in a park. It was nothing like the paintings she had on Titanic - nothing like the pieces by Picasso and Monet that she loved so much.

Rose couldn't remember anything after being in the water, and she certainly couldn't remember how she got out of the water. Presumably, the boat she heard had come back for her, but not in time for Jack.

Rose longed for Jack, her love and savior who once again, put her needs above his own and saved her life. She would never be able to repay him for all of the wonderful things he had done for her. But she would try.

"Dawson. Rose Dawson." Rose said, still staring blankly at the painting. If Jack couldn't be there, living his life like he should have been able to, she would do it for him. She would carry his name and honor him. And it brought the added bonus of her mother and Cal not being able to find her.

"Wonderful," said Dr. Walsh, "do you have any family that we can call?"

That was a loaded question. Rose no longer considered Ruth DeWitt Bukater or Caledon Hockley her family, and her father was long gone. However, there was someone else: her sister, Emma. Sure, Emma DeWitt Bukater was only fifteen years old, but she would still be able to bring Rose some of her things from home, and provide her with some money to use until Rose could find a job. After all, she was Rose's best friend.

"Would you please call my sister, Emma DeWitt Bukater?" Rose paused for a moment, realizing that someone else could answer the phone - her mother, perhaps, "But please make sure you are speaking to Emma before sharing any information about my current condition."

"Of course, ma'am," nodded the doctor as he backed out of the room. Rose decided she might as well sleep. Maybe she would be able to see Jack again in her dreams. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to remember every detail of her prince charming's face.

Only a few minutes later, Rose heard footsteps outside her door and jolted awake, looking to see who was there. Startled, Rose gasped. It was Emma, her sister, but something was off. She was taller, had a fuller body yet narrower face, and had wrinkles around her eyes and the corners of her mouth. It was as if Emma had aged twenty years.

"Emma, what happened to you?" Rose asked, wondering if somehow her time in the freezing water caused some sort of brain damage.

"That's funny, I think I should be asking you that," Emma responded as she walked over to Rose and sat down by her bed. Rose noticed her voice had changed along with the rest of her.

"Seriously," Rose began, still disoriented, "you look a lot older than the last time I saw you."

"Well, I saw you two weeks ago, so I don't see that as a possibility. The doctor said you hit your head."

Rose stared at her sister, thoroughly confused, "That's impossible. Two weeks ago I was in Europe with Mother and Cal."

"What?" Emma paused, considering Rose's words, "Wait, Rose, what year do you think it is?"

"1912," Rose replied grimly, remembering all of the events that had unfolded in the previous four months, from her engagement to the horrible Cal to the death of Jack, her real soulmate.

Emma gasped, and ran out of the room. She returned after only thirty seconds or so, with Dr. Walsh.

"Rose, can you tell me how old you are, what year it is, and who's president?" asked the doctor.

Rose's voice quivered slightly as she said, "I'm seventeen, it's 1912, and the president is William Taft."

Dr. Walsh remained calm, before calling to the nurse outside, "I need a head CT!" he then turned to Rose, and said, "Ms. Dawson, I'm not sure how to tell you this, but the year is 1932. You slipped and hit your head in the supermarket, which leads me to believe that you have amnesia, causing your confusion and for you to forget the last twenty years."

Rose sat, emotionless, and muttered, "I'm sorry, what?"