Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
Rose gently caressed the wooden frames--the black and white memories of days gone by--of promises surely kept. Having just divulged the story of her Jack to Brock Lovett, she was in her room aboard the Keldysh--about to go to sleep, now that the Heart of the Ocean was also in its final resting place. She ran her finger over a picture of her family--she, her husband John Calvert, and their two gorgeous daughters--a photograph taken in 1930. Rose would always love that family--those faces--but in some way, she felt disconnected now, as if they, by somehow knowing, had released her. She was the only survivor of that picture, and she felt a sense of closure on that life. Her life with John had been one of contentment and virtue, love, yes, but so different from...
Jack. Jack had engulfed her heart through all of her years. He'd always been there, whispering softly in her ear. Holding her hand when he remained the only one who could comfort a sorrow. Jack was INSIDE her, so wonderfully a part of her. He was always at her side; she could always feel HER Jack kissing her, his soft lips against hers eternally. And in a way, it might have been a betrayal to John, but, no, Jack wanted her to live on, learn to experience everything she could. Rose knew that John had always known--known that there was something, or someone, in her past, keeping her from divulging her soul completely. He knew her soul was always promised to someone else, but he did not mind. He and Rose had had a wonderful, full life together, offering each other the love and support they both needed.
Rose sighed, about ready to lay down. She was a woman of one hundred one years, and most definitely had a lot to ponder. But out of her whole life, out of every day she lived, every memory, Jack Dawson remained the climax of her life. She loved him with all of her heart. She still did. Their love progressed over every hour of every day. Jack had saved her, body and soul. He had found her, and loved her, with all he had. And in the three short days that they had known each other, Jack had handed her a new life; he had painted a passion inside of her--igniting it forever.
The love they shared was the only soul-consuming love she had, and ever would, experience. He was her soulmate, the one person she was destined to meet and love forever. But, unfortunately, fate had stepped in twice. She would relive it all, though, just to know him, just to have his warm body imbedded in her memory, just to know that he had been in her life. A life that she would not even have had without him. Rose's emotions came flooding back that night on the Keldysh--she hadn't gone over all this every night--she knew something was about to happen...
Well, anyway, one thing that she hadn't told Brock, or Lizzy, was that she'd talked to Jack often, late at night, in her dreams. She'd seen him several times. Right after the sinking, she'd felt his presence at night. One dream always had struck her as the most vivid--not even a dream, a fact, a reality.
It happened a few days after the sinking, in New York. She was staying in a boarding house--miserable and alone, not yet having the strength to face the world. That's why Jack came that night--to make HER a promise. It was about two o'clock in the morning, in her cramped, small, empty, and mostly cold room. Her window was closed to the cold air--the stars shone through so brightly...she was crying, and cold, and she'd never forget the way it felt to see him--he seemed to appear in the small doorway--so beautiful. He walked over to the bed and lay down, frantically pulling her into his warm arms. He'd held her so close, so tight. She held on for dear life, crying into his shoulders, so happy to be next to him again. They'd almost melted into one--it was so real. Then he'd pulled his head back, his deep blue eyes possessing a truth, a love.
He locked his gaze onto hers.
"I love you, Rose," he'd said that night. "Rose, you've got to live...Rose, I'm sorry I left you--I...Rose, live for me, for us, for what we could have been." He'd smiled, and she'd smiled then for the first time in three days--since the sinking.
He'd then brought his hands to her face, caressing it softly.
"I love you, Jack," she'd then whispered back hoarsely. "I'll keep my promise, Jack. It's just so hard...I want you here..." Jack hadn't been able to take it any longer. He leaned in, pressing his lips urgently against hers, igniting that same fire she'd felt only days before. She'd never forgotten the taste of his mouth that night, in that dream--so warm and soft, so comforting. He'd then snuggled back to her, grasping her once more, trying to warm her up. He buried his face in her hair, crying into it.
"Rose, I want to be with you too...God..."
His rough hands ran over her, trying to create a picture, she'd guessed. He moved his lips to her ear. She'd melted as he whispered these words to her.
"Rose, meet me at the clock. Meet me at the clock. I'll be waiting for you, I promise. That's my promise. Just keep yours first, Rose...never let go...never...I love you, Rose...at the clock..." His wet, warm lips had lulled her to sleep, and when she awoke the next morning, it was imbedded as a beautiful dream into her mind. A meeting she'd held to and clutched her whole life--just like every single minute she'd spent with him. From then on, she'd known he'd be waiting for her, and sometimes, especially in the last few years, she'd just wanted that time to come fast, but she'd also known that before she died, and they met again, she must tell their story. And now she had. She knew it was time, and rejoiced in the splendor awaiting her in just a little while...
Her old eyes now rested on a photo--the one of her on a horse, on a certain pier, roller coaster in back. She was the only one who could see Jack, on the horse with her, holding her tight. He'd lived on through her--their love had conquered all. It had had no boundaries--no limits. It had found them, and never left. As she pulled the covers up, she thought of perhaps, the most physical, vivid memory she had of him...the Renault. He'd been so gentle, so loving, so wonderful. As they had made love in that car, he had freed her, cemented her new life, just as when he drew her. But at that time, he'd still thought he'd be able to live it with her. He had shed so many of her skins--shown her real, tangible love. She smiled to herself, as she fell asleep...
She drifted to sleep, and then...it wasn't sleep at all...it was real, reality. This was happening, not like a fuzzy dream, but...she looked down at her hands. They were young, and perfect, and pale. She was seventeen again. She walked down Titanic's halls, as they shed their grit and scum for good. Vibrant and bright light entered those halls once more, this time permanently. Hard as it was to explain, she really was seventeen again. Old skins, old things, were just GONE--nothing was holding her back--nothing.
A servant smiled, and opened the door for her, the grand room once again fresh and clear. Lines and rows of people she had known on that voyage waved and smiled, from ALL classes--there was no longer a dividing line.
And just beyond them...the staircase, and...Jack leaned against the top of the case, back turned, waiting for her, looking at the clock. He'd kept his promise, just as she had kept hers. Rose anxiously started up the steps, and Jack turned. He smiled, and Rose did too. He held out his hand for her...oh, his hands...
Rose pulled herself up to him, their hands already intertwined at her waist. They smiled childishly at one another. Rose hesitantly moved her lips to his, and Jack stepped forward, pressing his warm mouth to hers. There it was...that fire...that same beautiful magic enveloped them. Their hearts beat once more together, soaring, far above the stars. Rose knew this was it--forever, this was where she wanted to be--in these arms, this body next to hers...always.
They had never been apart, no, not at all. Time as we know it had not passed--Jack remained merely twenty years old, Rose a tender seventeen. A thunderous applause broke out among the levels--they could love one another openly now. Nothing had to be hidden anymore. Jack smiled inside. Finally, Rose was back, where she would always be now, physically. He pulled her tighter, deepening the kiss, his hands on her hair. Rose was Rose Dawson once more, Jack was...oh, God, Jack...words could not possibly do justice to that moment when Jack and Rose reunited--physically--in heaven--real...so real.
What happened next?
A physical, tangible, real, eternity.
An eternal love we all dream of...
Eternity had finally beckoned them both back, together, at last.