It's been three hours since Rose stepped off the Carpathia onto New York ground in the pouring rain, looking up at the grand Statue of Liberty. Three hours since she proclaimed herself to be Rose Dawson. The whole journey to the shelter seemed comatose, she must have been ushered by a group of other survivors all heading the same way. A car horn snapped her out of the trance and she suddenly became aware of the creaky bed she had been sitting on and the city that was visible outside the small square window. She had always heard that New York was the city that never slept, and it seemed very true. Buildings and signs illuminated the streets that depicted the hustle and bustle. News must have gotten out by now, they must have heard of the shocking debacle. A sharp ache stabbed through her chest when the images flooded her mind, a sensation that would become very familiar every time she thought of him.

Jack. Jack did not survive. He wasn't here with her. It suddenly seemed like a few moments ago that they had held each other, their arms wrapped around each other, kissing each other. She had told him she would get off the ship with him and in the time and space of those few moments imagined the adventures and the days together after Titanic would dock, the days that would now never come. He had been saving her since the instant they met, till his very last breath, making her promise she had to survive. In that precise moment it didn't seem like she could move forward or function in any way.

She had survived, but she didn't feel alive. It wasn't fair, why did someone as kind and so full of life and joy have to die? She cringed when she thought of the last word. It still didn't seem to register that he was actually gone, torn apart from this mortal world. Tears started to sting her eyes and she realised she was shivering. She laid her head on the pillow and pulled a blanket over herself. The thought of death surfaced the memory of Jack's blue face as she tried to tell him the boat came back, his frozen hair, his body floating to the bottom of the ocean after she let go of his hand...

No. That is not how she wanted to remember him. Shunning those disturbing images, she thought of how he looked on the day they were on the ship's promenade. The golden sunlight on his face, the wind blowing through his golden hair, his goofy smile and the passion in his blue eyes when he spoke about his sketches. She would keep Jack's promise, she would somehow live the full life he had envisioned for her. But tonight she would allow herself to cry, to mourn, and to remember him. As tears streamed across her nose dampening the pillow, she soon fell asleep to the gentle pitter patter of the rain hitting the window glass.

The sun shines on Santa Monica Pier, Rose looks over her shoulder to see the hoof prints the horse has made in the sand. Jack runs up to her from where he's been soaking his feet in the water and smiles at her. She smiles back, giving him a look that says "see, I can ride a horse this way". He pats the horse, then holds her hand and he begins to walk with them as the horse slowly takes Rose forward along the beach. For as long as the dream goes on, they look at each other.

In the early morning of April 15th, 1912 at New York's St Vincent's Hospital amidst the chaos and commotion, Jack awakes with a jolt after a dream about Rose and Santa Monica Pier.

A/N: Hello! This is the very first story I'm publishing on here. It's my favourite film and my first OTP. Sorry if I am sloppy on any of the details, sometimes it's hard to find everything through Google. I know this first chapter may seem very pensive, but there's a lot of dialogue and action in the coming chapters! Reviews and comments much appreciated :)