Written by Sierra Crane
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
April, 1912
Cal scrambled about the Titanic,
searching for a way onto one of the lifeboats...searching in vain. No men
allowed. Only women and children. He watched helplessly as the wives and tiny
children floated away with tears in their eyes, and the husbands, brothers, and
sons stayed bravely behind, sacrificing themselves so others could live.
The ship lurched forward, and Cal
slid down the deck, slamming against the wall with a loud thud and a grunt. He
felt a sharp pain in his back, and then his head, and everything went black.
*****
"Come on, Rose!" Jack
grasped Rose's hand firmly as he struggled to reach the higher end of the ship.
Rose hung on, soaking wet and freezing, her flaming red hair was stuck to her
forehead. And then Jack turned briefly, long enough to see Cal slumped against
the edge, blood running down his forehead.
"Jack," Rose said
cautiously, "don't."
"I can't leave him
there!" Jack insisted. "Get higher, Rose. I'll be back."
"Jack--"
"I promise."
Jack let go of Rose's hand and
slid down the deck, trying to stay on his feet. He finally reached Cal's side
and shook him roughly. "Cal, wake up!" Jack cried. "Wake
up!"
Cal blinked and opened his eyes.
His voice was weak. "You..."
"Yeah, me." Jack pulled
Cal to his feet and slipped an arm under the man's shoulders, supporting him.
"Come on."
"What the hell...are you
doing?" Cal was barely conscious.
"We're going under!"
someone shouted.
Jack looked up in time to see
people flying from above, jumping and getting caught in the propellers. He
grimaced in disgust. "Cal," he said, "I'm getting out of this
alive...I promised Rose--"
"Rose." Cal laughed
bitterly. "Stupid whore--"
"Listen to me!" Jack
shouted. "We're going under, and I am not dying for you! But if we stay
close, we'll both make it out alive!"
Before Cal could reply, the ship
sank into the sea.
*****
Rose was dragged aboard the
Carpathia, shivering violently and mourning for her lost love. The sailors were
as sympathetic as possible, considering they were all rough old bachelors, or
boys too young to understand.
"Jack..." Rose
whispered as they put her down on a cot.
"Rose!"
Rose looked up as her mother,
Ruth, came in. She had never seen her mother look so frightened before. The
older woman's eyes were wide with fear. She held Rose's hand as if her daughter
was everything to her. "Oh, thank God you're safe," she murmured.
"Mother?" Rose looked
confused.
"I was so worried!"
Mother? Worried about me? Oddly enough, that fact brought comfort to
Rose as she drifted into a deep sleep. She woke up in the ship’s hospital two
days later. Ruth was still by her side.
"Jack," she said.
"Mr. Dawson?" Ruth
nodded slowly. "I haven't heard anything, Rose. The casualty list is going
out today."
"Oh, Jack..." Rose
wiped away her tears as two men stepped into the doorway.
One was tall, dark, and dashingly
handsome, an eerie expression on his face and eyes that held absolutely no
emotion. The other was shorter, blond-haired and blue-eyed. His young face was
lit up in a smile.
"Rose!" he gasped.
"Jack!" Rose ignored
her mother's protests and leapt out of bed, throwing herself into Jack's arms
and kissing him passionately. When she embraced him, she met Cal's cold eyes in
a long stare, and it was then that she saw the raw emotion...pain, confusion,
anger, love.
"I-I'm relieved to see you
survived, Rose," was all he said. And then he turned away.
Rose watched his back retreating.
The broad shoulders were slumped, but all she could feel was the warmth of
Jack's body against her. "I love you," he whispered.
April, 1931
"I thought I was going to be
ill!" Rose laughed as she and Jack rode away from the roller coaster. Jack
smiled and laughed with her, leaning over and stroking his horse's glossy coat.
"So did I," he agreed. "Come on. Let's check into a hotel. I'm
starved and exhausted."
*****
Rose and Jack made their way up
the stairs and to their hotel room. Late that night, Jack had just turned the
knob of their door when a gunshot rang out. "What was that?" Rose
asked anxiously.
"It came from that
room," Jack replied, pointing a few doors down.
Others scrambled out of their
rooms and into the room where the shot originated. Someone cried, "It's
Mr. Hockley!"
Hockley? Rose asked silently. Oh, no. Not Cal. She
rushed in and gaped in horror at Cal's body lying beside the window, blood
covering what was left of his face, his wife standing in utter shock and
despair.
"Cal," said Jack
simply.
Rose nodded, leaning against her
husband for support, unable to ignore the look of utter despair in Cal's eyes,
once so devoid of all emotion. This is my fault, she thought.
"Somebody call for
help!"
"No," Mrs. Hockley
said. "It's too late." She knelt by her husband's side and slowly
retrieved a picture from his coat pocket. Rose gasped a little and looked
away...it was her, looking glamorous in that old red evening gown, a diamond
necklace around her white neck.
"Another victim of the
Titanic," someone muttered.
"He never recovered from
that," Mrs. Hockley agreed.
"No." Rose went over
and touched Cal's forehead. It was still warm and full of life. "This
wasn't the Titanic...this was me."
The End.