Written by Georgiaish
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
It was cold. So cold! It made
Lake Wissota seem boiling in comparison to what he was feeling right now. Pain,
pure pain. The cold was inescapable and excruciating as it tore through his
thin clothes and soaked through his skin.
He looked up at Rose, who was
lying half-conscious on the door, still clutching his hand. It was the only
warmth he was feeling, and it was still cold. His heart broke as he saw how
helpless she was, and how he knew it would be the last time he ever saw her. He
was going to die in this ocean. He knew that, and accepted it. Rose would live.
That was reassuring enough for him.
It was quiet now. The only sound
he could hear was the gentle lapping of water against the door and Rose’s voice
hoarsely singing a familiar tune. His body was numbing and Jack welcomed the
warm sensation burning in his torso.
He closed his eyes and let the
image of Rose disappear from his view. She would live through this, tell her
story to generations yet to come. Live life for the both of them and when her
time came, they would meet again at the clock.
He imagined what it would have
been like to live a life with Rose. It would have been happy, no doubt.
He and Rose walked
hand-in-hand down the beach, half-watching the merging colors of the setting
sun and half-watching the two children who were stumbling around in the sand
about five feet in front of them.
Jack smiled contentedly at how
his life had turned out.
He and Rose would have had at
least three children. They would have lived in Santa Monica, beside the beach,
where it was warm. Maybe it wouldn’t have always been easy, but he knew they
would have made it through tough times purely because they had each other.
Maybe…
He could no longer feel his
limbs, and he knew his time was rapidly running out. He never would live a life
with Rose. How he was longing for his father’s strong hands to pull him to
safety like he had done all those years ago on Lake Wissota.
"Today, my boy, I’m gonna
take you ice fishing! The lake completely frozen over. I saw it a few minutes ago!
Come see for yourself!"
Richard Dawson, dressed in
what seemed like all the clothes he owned, burst though the front door of his
home and spoke as enthusiastically as a young child to his ten-year-old son,
Jack.
"Really, Pa?" Jack stared
at his father, who was getting his ice-fishing equipment out of the cupboard.
"Really, really, Jack!
Now, come on!" He dashed past his son to the door and eagerly shoved his
big feet into his shoes as Jack rushed to do same.
Soon after, they were cautiously
treading on the lake, only about ten feet from the shore.
"Now, Jack, be careful of
the thin ice and we might catch some pretty big fish. Okay?" Jack nodded,
not paying any attention to his father as he put his fishing pole together.
Jack stepped back to get some bait--and straight through some thin ice. He was
under before he could open his mouth to scream.
The cold ripped through him in
an instant, and his limbs went to stiff. He stuck his arms up and tried to kick
his legs, to no avail.
Suddenly, strong hands gripped
Jack’s wrists and pulled his arms out of the water, followed by his head and
torso.
Jack coughed and shivered in
his father’s embrace. The cold was like nothing he had ever experienced.
Until now. How cold he had been
then, how he had had someone to pull him out of the water. Jack gave Rose’s
hand a slight squeeze, hardly noticeably as a final tear slid down his cheek
and disappeared into the abyss of the ocean.
"A boy, Mrs.
Dawson!"
"Ice fishing, son!"
"The Dawson place! It’s
ablaze!"
"My name is
Fabrizio."
"I can see America
already! Very small, of course."
"Rose DeWitt
Bukater."
"I’m flying, Jack!"
"To the stars."
"No! Not without
you!"
"I love you, Jack."
"Never let go."
Now all he could do was wait.
Wait and cry for what could have been.
The End.