Never Letting Go, Chapter 1

[xtalleenx]

Title: Never Letting Go
Author: xtalleenx (ThexInvisiblexGirl on fanfiction.net)

Characters/Pairing: Edward/Bella, Jack/Rose, POVs alternating between Bella and Rose
Rating: PG

Summary: On a fine day in the middle of April, the lives of two couples are about to change forever.

** read the Prologue here.



Chapter One

"What the hell was that?" Her eyes flew around the unfamiliar room, all lavish carpets and fine upholstery. The room wasn't big, but it was strangely spacious. If she had to use one word to describe it, ancient would definitely be it. It looked as though it was ripped out of a book, or a museum. There were paintings everywhere; originals, by the looks of it. Even the lamps looked luxurious, and there was even a mini chandelier in the center of the room. Fire was cracking gaily in the fireplace. It was warm in the room, but she was still shivering. "Edward, what has just happened?"

He looked flustered; his dumbfounded expression made her stare at him in shock. She had never seen him so flabbergasted before. Nothing had ever taken him by surprise; he had always seemed so composed. Now he seemed as mystified as she was.

"I'm not... entirely sure," he replied slowly. He glanced around him, much like she had done only a short while ago. She could tell by the slight crease on his brow that he had no idea where they were or how they got there, but he was trying to place it. She watched him, too shaken to do anything else. Her fingers ran over the soft fabric of the sofa they were sitting on. Velvet, she thought, in rich burgundy. Old, like everything else in this strange room.

How did they get there?

And more importantly, where was "there"?

"We're on a ship," he said eventually, in what could have been a moment or two dozen afterwards. She shot him a dubious look, but he only nodded. "Yes. Listen carefully. Do you hear the humming of the engines?"

As he asked it, she suddenly became aware of the constant purring sound, blending into the background. She could feel no movement, though. And in this moment of distress, all her mind could focus on was hoping she would not be sea sick in front of him.

There was a flash of movement beside her, and when she next looked up, Edward was suddenly across the room, by what seemed like a doorway to a balcony. He spent a brief moment outside before he wandered back in and approached a desk on the other end of the room. He looked through the stack of papers he found there, his expression growing more astounded by the second. Her heartbeat hastened at the sight of him. "Edward, what? What is it?"

But she didn't think he even heard her. He was leafing through the papers - were they newspapers? - as though hypnotized. "Remarkable," he murmured to himself without looking up.

That's it. She could bare it no longer. She stood up, grateful for the steady floor beneath her feet, and crossed the room in four long strides. Standing next to him, she touched his shoulder. He flinched as though he hadn't even sensed her approach, which again was unusual. "Edward, talk to me. What is going on?"

Finally, he met her gaze. His expression was a mix of horror and fascination. "Bella," he said, his voice choked as though he was still coming to terms with whatever was going on. She thought his face seemed paler than they normally were, but she couldn’t tell for certain in the yellowish light. "I think I know where we are."

Before she could question it, he handed her one of the papers. Not a newspaper, she now realized, but an unfinished letter dated April 12, 1912.

April 1912?

"The Titanic."

She didn't even realize she had said it aloud until she heard her voice. And as though her own recognition was the only thing her mind needed, she started. To her complete horror, he nodded his confirmation, and she noticed how his fascination was making its way to panic. "I have to get you out of here. This letter is dated the twelfth and since the ship is still afloat I suspect it doesn't have much left until..."

She just stared at him as his voice trailed off, uncertain how he could be so calculating when she still hadn't figured out how on earth they got there. "Don't you think there are more urgent issues to attend to?"

"Issues more urgent than a soon-to-be-sinking ship?"

"We don't even know how the hell we ended up here!"

His eyes scanned the room once more, as though he had expected the answer to reveal itself. Her eyes followed his and a moment later, the answer had indeed revealed itself to her when something had caught her eye. There was something on the carpeted floor. She crossed the room again and knelt by the sofa. Her fingers were shaking when she picked up the object that caught her attention.

"My book," she murmured, holding up Jane Austen's Sense and Sensibility for him to see. Of course, it had to be that. She faintly remembered Edward reading to her from it a moment before the darkness hit. But how...

"It would have made sense…" She started; she didn’t realize he had moved again, but he was suddenly there, kneeling on the floor next to her. "Except for one thing." Gently, he took the book from her shaky grip and observed it, first its front cover and then its back. Then he held it for her to see. "This is not your book."

She could see what he meant now, that she was looking at it more closely. It looked nothing like her tattered paperback. This one was the real deal, a very early edition wrapped in old leather, with a velvet bookmark peeking about a third into the book. She had seen books like that in Carlisle's extensive library.

"What do you think it means?" she asked, slowly tearing her eyes away from the book.

He looked at loss. "I don't know." Then confusion turned its place to panic again. "I don’t know if we have time to figure it out."

She had seen him scared before, but not like this. And she was scared too, but for a whole different reason. "We need to find a way out of here, fast. We need to find a way to get back. If my dad gets home tomorrow morning and I'm not there because I'm stuck in another frigging century…" Her voice trailed; she let out a shaky breath. It was a scenario she didn’t want to think about.

"Believe me, I am not willing to appear worse in your father's eyes than I already do," he said, chuckling darkly. "Perhaps if we go up on deck, we could try and find out more details about... our circumstances."

He took her hand and swiftly pulled her into a standing position. She looked down on herself, then at him. They were both dressed in jeans and modern-looking shirts. If they were right and they had somehow time-travelled into a different era, then they didn’t look exactly inconspicuous.

She didn’t even have to mouth her concern. Following her eyes, he nodded. "You're right. I'll see if I can find us some other clothes. Stay here."

"What? No, I'm not - "

But he was gone before she could even finish.

xoxox

She was alive. That was all she knew for certain. She remembered a turbulence of some sort, so intense it had knocked her over. Whereas she was sitting down before, she was laying face down now, by the feel of it. She was still panting by the force of the fall, the hit, or whatever it was. She thought she might have lost consciousness, but she could still hear voices -  were they birds? - and so she figured it probably wasn't the case.

There was a groan nearby. She frowned. It was unlike the gay chirping that seemed to be surrounding her. This sound was deeper, more human somehow, and closer to her ear. She could feel the echo of it reverberating against her still heaving chest, almost as though it was coming from underneath her. Then a second groan resounded, followed by a slight movement, and she started into complete alertness, blushing scarlet when she realized Jack was laying on a patch of grass and she was sprawled on top of him.

Wait a minute... A patch of grass?

It was this odd piece of information which distracted her from the awkward position they had found themselves in. He didn't comment on her crashing him, nor did he try to push her off him. She could feel his chest rising and falling as though he, too, was breathless. The heat in her cheeks intensified. She got off him, trying very hard to avert her gaze.

She knew she was supposed to question their circumstances, but it was their surroundings that caught her attention first. They were outdoors now, so it was much brighter than the sitting room they had just left, but not entirely, as though it was overcast. She blinked several times to force her mind into focus. The sun didn’t hurt her eyelids, so she assumed it wasn’t midday, but possibly anytime around dusk. They were in a wood of some sort; she noticed thick vegetation not very far off. They seemed to be all alone in this strange place.

He sat up and looked around him as well. She expected to find a sign of recognition in his gaze, but there was none. Instead she found confusion and it made her uneasy. She thought he had known anything about everything.

"How did we get here?"

She chuckled darkly at the uncertainty hidden in his query. "I was hoping you could tell me."

She wasn’t frightened. It was a strange realization, considering she had no idea where they were, but she felt rather calm and quite curious. She stood up, somewhat unsteadily at first, and looked around the perfectly shaped circle, surrounded by trees on all sides. She traced the outer lines of the circle in slow, even steps, seeking for a trail leading back into the woods. If there was a way out of there, it wasn't an obvious one.

"It's pretty here," she smiled tentatively as she returned to sit by his side. There was awe in his expression; it caught her off guard. Suddenly she felt extremely self conscious. "What?"

"You're not panicked."

She considered his comment, which was more a statement of facts than a question. Then she slowly shook her head. "No, I suppose I am not."

"From some reason I expected you would be in hysterics."

"What can I say? I just keep surprising you."

He laughed darkly. "That's for sure." They shared a smile. "Seriously, though. What happened? There was a thud and the next thing I know, we're..."

"Here," she completed, blushing faintly at the thought of how they had found themselves here.

Her forehead creased in confusion. There was something behind him, something small and rectangular that wasn't in correlation with the sea of green that surrounded them. His gaze followed hers. He reached out behind him and brought the thing - a book in some form - between them to inspect.

"What is this?" she asked, leaning closer. It looked like a book, but it was unlike any book she had ever owned. This one looked almost like a notebook. Jack's fingers fluttered over the cover, tracing the words that made out the title of the book and its author. But that was impossible. She recognized them. It was the same book...

"It's the same book we have just talked about."

She blinked as Jack's voice reflected the thought that was slowly forming in her mind. Although she knew his observation was correct, she couldn't help but question it, question herself. "It can't be. Mine looked completely different."

Her father had taught her that books should always be treated with respect, that each and every one of them was sacred. And yet, the first class girl inside her couldn't help the slight contempt she felt towards this notebook-like volume. It looked so frail comparing with her own hidden copy. She carefully leafed through it, holding her breath as though its pages would break beneath her touch. For a moment, she just stared at the words as though hypnotized. She recognized the opening paragraph and several o the passages that followed. The coincidence seemed too remarkable; somehow it was the same book.

"Whoa, hold on a second, stop!"

"What?" she asked hurriedly, startled by his frenzied order.

He smiled sheepishly, as though sorry for frightening her, and gently took the book into his own hands. He flipped quickly back to the second page where there was a list of some sort, and some strange marks. He traced his fingers along one of these lines, his eyes widening in shock with each move of his fingers. She leaned over to get a better look.

Published in Penguin Popular Classics 1994.

"Impossible," she murmured. "This is 1912. April 14 1912!"

"Not according to this book, it isn't."

But that must mean they must have... what, travelled in time somehow?

"But how did we..."

She couldn't even complete her query, as absurd as its answer was. The silence of the forest was interrupted by a sound of crashing against dry leaves and branches on the forest floor. Her frantic eyes met his.

She began to regret her dismissal of his jokes earlier. Now she was panicked.

xoxox

She didn’t know how long she was standing alone in that sitting room, but it didn’t matter. She was surprised at how collected she had been. She half expected the tears to start at a much earlier stage, but she didn’t even feel close to crying. Her recent near-death experiences, be it by James or the Volturi, had definitely put things into perspective. She laughed humorlessly at the thought.

Sighing, she crossed the room towards the doorway to the balcony. It was a private deck, she could now see, with very few pieces of wooden furniture and some nice flower arrangements. She didn’t linger there to admire them, though. It was so cold she wasn’t even tempted to look over the railing and make sure the ocean was truly out there. She went back inside and leafed through the papers on the desk again, hoping they would provide her with a clue, any clue, as for what happened.

She turned at the sound of a rustle. Edward was standing a small distance away from her. Her breath caught at the sight of him. His jeans and tee shirt were gone; he was now dressed to the nines in a tux. It fit him quite well, but he looked uncomfortable.

"You look dashing," she smiled bashfully.

He smiled meekly in reply, but didn’t contradict her, although he seemed to have wanted to. "By the looks of it, this is a first class stateroom, lucky for us. We will manage to blend in nicely wearing these and it will come up handy in case…"

He didn’t complete the thought, but she knew what it was anyway. In case the crew would be bringing out the lifeboats. She knew the story well. Most of the survivors were known to be first class.

She walked over to him and reached for his hands, hanging by his sides. Lacing their fingers together, she looked up at him. "We don’t know what day it is. It might as well be the thirteenth, in which case we still have one more day to try and find a way out of here."

"But what if we don’t, Bella? What if we're about to hit that iceberg in five minutes from now?"

There was true horror reflected in his eyes. She squeezed his hands, her eyes burning with questions. "You didn’t read all those reports," he whispered, closing his eyes as a memory hit. "Learning about it from books and documentaries doesn’t compare to the real thing." He opened his eyes and his eyes met hers. "I read people's testimonies for months after the ship sank. I was fascinated by their stories, as one would expect a boy of twelve. But the truth of the matter was that these were no mere stories. They were true accounts told by true survivors, and they were chilling."

There was no sound for a long moment. She couldn’t think of anything to say to comfort him, and he was still trapped in a long-gone childhood memory. Then, a moment later, he shook his head. The distress in his eyes lifted ever so slightly. "There are several dresses on the bed in this room over here," he said, gesturing to a door behind him. "I think they might be slightly bigger for you, but they will do. Choose whatever you like. Look the part. I'll wait here."

"Okay," she said slowly, hesitantly. As much as she knew it was necessary, the thought of putting on someone else's clothes unnerved her.

"Bella," he stopped her when she was about to walk passed him, laying his hand gently on her arm. "See if you can find a coat in the wardrobe. If you can't find one I'll come and help you. We'll come back for it later, if…" His voice trailed ominously. He looked truly terrified and so she didn't question his request. He had tended to overfret when it came to her safety, but in this case she thought it was better not to doubt him. She nodded and walked into the room.

The bedroom was as lavishly furnished as the rest of the suite. She had to remind herself that she didn't have time to look around and that she must focus on the task at hand. Look the part, Edward had said. She crossed the room towards the bed, where four dresses awaited. They were all sophisticated looking, ones she had yearned to wear since she had become familiar with the world of Austen and Bronte.

She found herself drawn to a dress in lavender and ivory, made out of layers over layers of what she thought was chiffon. It might not keep her warm, but the vain part of her just couldn’t resist it. The dress didn't look too complicated to wear and she was secretly grateful for that. She wouldn't know how to handle a corset, and she wasn't sure what Edward's response would be if she asked him to help her. She kicked off her shoes, shed her jeans and tee shirt hurriedly and put on the dress. Although it was a bit loose around the bust, it fit her well and showed off her narrow waist.

She was tempted to wear her sneakers again, but quickly gave up on it, knowing they would raise a few eyebrows. She stuck her feet in lavender-colored slippers. They were slightly bigger for her and far too girly for her taste, but they would have to do. She pulled the elastic band out of her hair, letting it fall against her shoulders. It was the best she could do, under the circumstances. There were several jewelry boxes open on the dresser. She chose a pearl necklace and a matching bracelet at random, hastily putting them on. She felt strange messing with some other girl's clothes and jewelry, but she kept reminding herself she had no other choice.

Although she was anxious to join Edward, go upstairs and explore, she couldn’t help looking at the mirror before she left the bedroom. She could barely believe it was her reflection staring back at her. A giggle escaped her; she couldn’t help it. She allowed herself another brief moment of vanity; she liked what she saw.

Edward was hunched over the desk as she reemerged into the sitting room, but he looked up as soon as she walked in. For a moment, he just stared at her jaw dropped. Then a small grin curled on his lips as he slowly approached her. "Perfect."

Her cheeks colored instantly. She lowered her gaze, her hand slipping along the soft fabric of the dress. The light in this room was dimmer, giving the fabric a kind of a pearly glow.

"This is exactly how I have envisioned you."

At the look of surprise in her face, he chuckled. "I've often wondered how you would look in the world I have come from. This comes pretty close to what I have had in mind. It suits you. It's as though you were born in this period." He walked over to her, gently took her hand and brought it to his lips. Too soon, though, his eyes darkened ever so slightly, refocusing on the mission in hand. "We will have to come up with a story."

"A story?" she echoed uncertainly.

"This is a very small enclosure. In voyages such as this one, people tend to know everything about everyone. They would remember not seeing us before, but more importantly, they would wonder who we are. A beautiful young woman is bound to raise questions," he said, making her blush again.

"So what will it be? Are we on our honeymoon?" she looked up at him, batting her lashes. To her enormous relief, it made him laugh. For just that moment, he seemed to forget about the imminent sinking of the ship.

"Suddenly the idea of marriage is appealing to you."

"No," she pouted. "But you will probably refuse to even hold my hand otherwise." She might have been born in the twentieth century, but she knew enough about the time he had come from to be sure of that.

He shook his head. "We can't pretend to be married. Neither of us is wearing a ring, and I refuse to do something as vile as stealing someone's wedding band, not even for this purpose." His forehead creased, and he looked deep in thought for a moment. "We could come up with some engagement story if you can find something that resembles an engagement ring in that bedroom. Or…" He flashed a devious smile at her. "We could say you're an orphan and that your recently deceased father has assigned me, his assistant, to escort you to your grandparents' mansion in America."

He made it sound so easy. Coming up with stories like that was born out of necessity in his new existence. It had become a habit for him. She wondered how many times he had done this before. She knew it wasn’t a game, that a good enough lie would ensure their safety. Nonetheless and despite herself, she found herself enjoying it. "Can't I be an orphan and your fiancée?"

"Sure," he laughed softly, reaching out for her cheek. "See if you can find a ring."

She pressed her cheek to his hand and thought of the sight they would make on deck, glamorous and youthful in their borrowed (she refused to think of them as stolen) evening clothes. Sudden confidence rushed through her, keeping her off guard. She stood on tiptoes and wrapping her arms around his neck, pressed her lips to his. Although he kissed her back, his distraction was apparent. She pulled away slowly, but kept her eyes locked on his. "Everything is going to be okay," she told him.

Now she just had to tell herself that.

xoxox

"What was that?"

The tremor in Jack's voice didn't go amiss by her. It only increased her terror. Surely if Jack was questioning something, something must be very wrong.

The sound was growing closer, and there was certain steadiness to it. This made her realize they might be footsteps, but of whom? Who would cross such thick vegetation so purposefully, and what for?

She didn't have to wait long to get her reply. The trees parted and a figure stepped into the meadow. A small boy, she thought at first. Only as the figure moved closer, she realized it wasn't a boy at all, but a petite woman whose hair was cut short. She couldn't do much but stare at her for a moment. She looked her own age, give or take a year. She had never seen a girl with hair so short before, not to mention one who was wearing trousers.

The strange young woman seemed equally surprised to find them there. "Where are they?" she enquired in the prettiest voice she had ever heard. It was sweet and had a bell-like ring to it. But it wasn't the only striking feature about her; nor was her short hair or unusual attire. It was her eyes which were the most unique. They were mesmerizing. For a moment, she forgot they had been asked something.

Jack seemed equally affected by the stranger. "There is no one here," he replied.

The strange girl-woman seemed at loss, as though she was expecting a different answer. "Where are Edward and Bella?"

"It's just us," she said once she found her voice again.

"But where are… how did you... I didn't see..."

"And who are you, exactly?"

She seemed startled by Jack enquiry, but only for a moment. And as though she had suddenly realized they were dressed quite differently than her, she blinked and shook her head. "I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you. My name is Alice Cullen, I... I live close by."

She didn't know what it was; instincts, perhaps, but she sensed there was something strange about the woman's reply. Before she could put her finger on it, though, Jack spoke again.

"I'm Jack Dawson. This is Rose DeWitt Bukater. This may sound really odd, but would you mind telling us where we are?"

Once again, it was difficult to know what the stranger was thinking. It was a moment before she replied. "You're near a small town called Forks in the state of Washington, and the year is 2006."

She blinked. Surely she had misheard her. "I beg your pardon?"

"You'd better come with me," said the stranger. Alice. "I'm not sure how you got here, but I know someone who might."

Her eyes met Jack's, and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. He seemed to be thinking what she had. No matter how they got there, they wouldn't be able to find their way back by themselves. They didn't know this Alice Cullen, but if she could help them in any way, perhaps they should simply trust her.

She stood up resolutely, and Jack wordlessly followed. Then, with uncertainty and hesitation, they left the meadow and followed the stranger into the depth of the forest, towards the unknown.