Chapter 1

The world seemed to be spinning. Faster and faster and yet he could do nothing to stop it. He could hear voices around him, mumbled noises that made no sense. Different languages, shouting, screaming and crying seemed never ending. But yet he couldn't open his eyes. Nothing could drag him out of this abyss that he felt he was falling into. Everything was dark and eventually the noises started to drift away. He felt so far away from everything, so detached until finally everything went quiet.

That was three months ago. It was now almost the end of July 1912 and Jack Dawson had lapsed into a coma just hours after he was dragged from the icy waters of the North Atlantic. So far he had defied doctor's beliefs that he could even survive after spending so long in the freezing water but somehow he was still alive. Clinging to life but alive nonetheless. Now lying in a hospital bed in the heart of New York, his doctor was at his bedside as he had begun to show signs that he was ready to wake up. A young nurse who had been looking after him had summoned the doctor just moments before as she had spotted movement from behind the young man's eyelids. It was faint, but it was definitely there. They spent the next few hours watching over him until he finally opened his eyes. His nurse was taken aback as she finally caught sight of the baby blues which had been hidden up until now. They darted around the room, clearly trying to take in everything around him. She watched him intently, staring into those blue orbs which were almost the colour of the very ocean which almost claimed his life.

"Son?" The doctor finally spoke, breaking him from his concentration. He turned his head slightly on the pillow until his eyes met with the doctors. "Do you know where you are?"

Jack shook his head slowly. He had no idea where he was. No idea how he had got there. No idea what town he was in, never mind the country.

"Do you know your name?" the doctor was hopeful he would know this. As he had been pulled from the water, he had no documents on him and the hospital had no way of identifying him. No one had been looking for him but judging by the clothes he had been wearing, the doctor wasn't overly surprised. It was quite possible that no one was even aware he was on the ship and if he had known anyone on board, it was likely that they hadn't survived. Judging by the stories the doctor had read in the paper, he knew that there was a high number of deaths in the steerage section of the ship.

Jack tried to speak but the dryness in his throat and over his tongue prevented him from doing so. Realising this, the nurse grabbed a small cup and filled it with water. She took it over to him and held it to his lips as he slowly took a drink from it. After clearing his throat again, he attempted to speak once more.

"Jack." He murmured. "Jack Dawson."

"Do you know how you got here?" The doctor motioned for the nurse to leave them as he sat down in the chair at the side of Jack's bed. Jack shook his head again. "What's the last thing you remember Jack?"

Jack closed his eyes and desperately tried to think back. What was the last thing he remembered? Losing his family when he was 15? Travelling to Europe? Meeting Fabrizio? Yes, that was it. The last thing he remembered. He opened his eyes again and stared at the doctor. "I met my friend Fabrizio. I was in Rome. We were planning on heading to England." Jack explained as much as he could but he knew it was unlikely he was in either England or Italy given the American doctor sat before him. "Where is Fabrizio? Is he here?" Jack suddenly asked.

The doctor shook his head. "No Jack. I don't know where your friend is. Do you remember coming back to America?"

"I'm in America?" Jack felt so confused. The last thing he remembered was making plans with Fabrizio. They had said goodbye to his family in Milan and made their way to Rome. Once they had got there, they were planning on heading to Paris before finally going to England.

"Yes. You're in New York."

"How did I get here?" Jack asked.

The doctor suddenly stood up and lifted a newspaper which was sitting on a table at the other side of the room. It was printed the day after Titanic sank and the doctor had kept it to show any of the patients he was treating who wanted to read about it. It looked as though the doctors fear for Jack was right. He knew the risks that Jack could face once he woke up from his coma and short term memory loss was one of them. Jack had been able to tell him about his plans and life from several months ago but given the look on his face when he handed him the newspaper, it was clear that Jack couldn't remember anything about the disaster.

"That's awful." Jack finally said after reading the front page. "But what does this have to do with me?"

The doctor raised his eyebrows and sat back down beside Jack. "Son, you were on that ship."