HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO

Written by Rebel Without a Cause
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

Where have all the good men gone
And where are all the gods?
Where's the street-wise Hercules
To fight the rising odds?
Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?
Late at night I toss and turn and dream
Of what I need.

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the end of the night
He's gotta be strong
And he's gotta be fast
And he's gotta be fresh from the fight
I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life.

Somewhere after midnight
In my wildest fantasy
Somewhere just beyond my reach
There's someone reaching back for me
Racing on the thunder end rising with the heat
It's gonna take a superman to sweep me off my feet.

Up where the mountains meet the heavens above
Out where the lightning splits the sea
I would swear that there's someone somewhere
Watching me.

Through the wind and the chill and the rain
And the storm and the flood
I can feel his approach
Like the fire in my blood.

The air was colder than ice on her bare skin, but she was numb to it all. No cold, no heat, no sensation would touch her other than the overwhelming sense of fear and doubt.

Violent self-loathing compelled her to run faster. Damn these shoes! She half-stopped, almost, to wrench them off her feet, but something told her not to or she would collapse into a heap on the deck.

The roar of the water was music to her ears. So much better than the stately music at dinner where all her family still was, oblivious to the fact that she was having a mental breakdown.

She wanted her own life. A life where she made the rules and she lived as she pleased, but she wasn’t allowed it. Her birth denied her that right. The injustice of it all made her want to scream with fury, but instinct and years of keeping her pain in silence stopped her.

The very fact that she wanted to scream and didn’t was all the more frustrating. It was a never-ending cycle of want, denial, and loathing. It would never end. Rose knew that. So she was going to make it end. Make it end before anyone would see and stop her.

She clambered up to the end of the ship, gripping the railing until her knuckles turned white. The water rushed beneath her and the ship swayed as the mighty propellers churned the water into white, frothy foam.

Would it hurt? She asked herself that a thousand times in the space of half a second. It might, but not near so much as living in a prison. Ah…she had the freedom that most didn’t, but what was common, normal, and sane for one person, she was denied. At that moment in time, she was quite sure the rats in the third class section of the ship had a better life than she did with all her money and fancy trimmings.

Very slowly, she swung one leg after the other over the white railing of the Titanic. It was with carefulness and slow-paced action that she turned herself so she faced the water and her arms leaned back to grip the white railing. Her heart thudded in her throat, each beat like the turn of the propeller.

She could not stop her teeth from chattering in the freezing wind. Gasping, she looked out at the rushing water beneath her. Could she really do this? Throw herself off this ship and drown? Or, most likely, freeze to death?

Better than drowning in Cal’s smoke and brandy, she told herself. She closed her eyes and prepared to let go.

"Wait!"

The voice startled her. Male, young, not someone she knew. Quickly, she had categorized it before she even turned her head over her shoulder to look at him. But as she completed the turn of her neck, she clapped eyes on a youth of no more than twenty-five years old. His blond hair looked almost silver in the strange haze of stars, the moon, and the light of the ship. His skin was pale, and she could see he was shivering, but he gave no sign of discomfort. His eyes, so like the ocean beneath her, were riveted on her, and on her alone. His gaze was powerful. It made her want to both obey and to throw herself off the railing and plunge into the icy water below.

"Stay where you are!" she called out. She wished she could have sounded more forceful, but all that she could hear in her voice was fear. And she was afraid. She wanted to stop, and she wanted to jump. Her mind was torn in two! But if the boy came any closer…

"Come on, now. Whatever the trouble is, I’m sure it’s not worth doing this," the boy tried to reason.

"Get back! How would you even know what trouble there is?" she snarled at him. Now she sounded angry, but wished she didn’t. For God’s sake, couldn’t she make up her mind?

The kid ignored her. "My name is Jack. Jack Dawson," he told her. "Just let me pull you back and we can find out what the real trouble is." He took two paces closer to her, reaching his hand out.

"Get back!" she shrieked. "Get back or I’ll jump!" Now fear colored her voice again.

"Hey, hey, easy now," Jack tried to soothe her. He pulled a final drag from the cigarette in his mouth. He gestured to the side of the ship and threw it over. But the action had brought him two paces closer, and he did not retreat.

"Don’t come any closer!" Rose warned again. "Just stay away!"

"Please, Miss, let me help you," Jack pleaded. "Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not worth throwing away such a pretty face." Rose whipped around to glare at him. He did not look embarrassed by what he had said, and held her gaze firmly.

"How do you know I wouldn’t jump anyway?" she retorted at him, unable to think of anything to say about his remark on her pretty face.

"You won’t," he said matter-of-factly.

"How do you know?" she persisted, angry now that he was dancing around the conversational point.

"You’d have done it already, me or no me, but here’s the thing, Miss. I’m involved now, and if you jump, I’ll have to jump in after you. That water is awfully cold, and I’d rather not have to go in after you." He offered his hand again. "Just come back over now."

"Get away!" she spat. She recoiled as much as she could without letting go.

"Fiery as that red hair of yours, I see," he commented. "That’s all right with me. All the better, because I would hope that spirit would see it’s not worth quenching."

She was both revolted and encouraged by his words. Did she dare trust him? What would change if she did? What would happen if she did as he said and came back to the safety of the deck? Go back to being her family’s pawn? Go back to being Cal’s slave? She shuddered and turned away.

She heard the thunk of boots hitting the deck and turned around to see that Jack was sliding off his coat as well. "Ever been to Wisconsin?" he asked. "I used to live up there, and my pa and I used to go out and ice fish in the winter. I fell through once. If I had been alone, I would have died. The cold is so bad, you can’t think. It’s like knives stabbing at every inch of your body, and there is no relief. All you can comprehend is the pain. That water there is probably just as cold, maybe a little colder, depending." He spoke in a nonchalant voice and shrugged his shoulders. "But I’ll still go in after you."

"Why in the world would you do that?" Rose asked, her voice clearly showing that she was annoyed.

"Because I told you already, Miss. I’m involved now," he said. "So, if you jump, I jump."

All this time, he had been getting closer to her. He was within reach. He could grab her, but he maintained his distance so as not to touch her.

"You’re crazy," she told him, not quite raising her voice, but not with a shrug of indifference, either.

"That’s what everyone says, but begging your pardon, Miss, I’m not the one hanging off the back of a ship here," he said quietly, trying to suppress sarcasm and failing. Now he leaned against the railing, right beside her. Rose looked at him, unsure of what to do. Fear won out in her heart at last.

She slowly turned around and Jack maneuvered himself in front of her. "Just grab my hand now," he said, offering it to her.

She took it and was surprised. His skin was warm to the touch, not cold like her own. His eyes suddenly seemed friendlier and less guarded than they had a moment ago. She was stepping up on the railing to get her legs over when suddenly her shoes caught the hem of her dress. She cried out as she slipped and started to plunge towards the roaring propellers of the ship.

Jack lunged out over the railing and grabbed her wrist. "Hang on now! Do not let go!" he shouted. Rose screamed for help, terror gripping her now. She had never been resourceful unless pushed, and right now, she had too much fear to think straight.

Jack knew that no one would hear her right now. They had to get out of it themselves. That’s how it had always been. Nobody was going to get him out of trouble. He had to do himself.

"Pull yourself up!" he shouted down. Yelling over the roaring engine was painful, but at this point, he didn’t care. "Grab the railing with your other hand and do not let go!"

Rose thrashed, lunged about, and finally her hand met the railing. She gripped it like death and held on.

"Now, haul yourself up!" Jack told her.

Terrified at letting go, but feeling the hold on her wrist getting looser, she did as she was commanded. She let go, seized Jack’s hand tighter, and reached for a higher bar. Once she had it in her hand, she looked at Jack.

"Good! Now, use your feet! Push yourself up!"

She scrabbled with her feet and tried to use her hand to grab another bar, but she missed. Her weight almost dragged Jack overboard. She screamed again for help, and this time, Jack could hear footsteps coming.

"Try again!" he yelled.

Rose fought with all her might, and this time, she heaved herself all the way over the top. She tumbled onto the deck, Jack rolling over her because he had not let go. When she looked at him again, she was looking into his amazed and shining eyes.

But now the sailors had come and Jack whipped his head up. Curses streamed in his mind, but he did not utter a word. He knew what this looked like. Him over her, her screaming for help. Jesus, he was in trouble now.

"Release her at once!" one of the men yelled. He rushed over and roughly seized Jack by the nape of the neck while the other grabbed his wrists. Another man in a black suit with dark hair came running over and helped the woman to her feet.

"What in the world made you think you could even look at my fiancée!" the black-haired man yelled into Jack’s face.

A set of handcuffs were clapped onto Jack’s wrists, but he did not struggle. He’d been in sticky situations before. He’d get out; all he had to do was get the girl to tell the truth. Would she? That would decide his fate.

Rose looked at her savior, then back at Cal. Her eyes flitted back and forth for a moment until they rested on Jack’s. He hadn’t hurt her. She should tell them that. It was time to stop keeping her silence.

"He hasn’t done anything!" she spoke up. "I was just leaning over the railing. I wanted to see if I could watch the propellers, and I slipped. Jack grabbed me before I fell into the water." She wondered if they bought it. It was almost the truth.

"Oh, really?" Cal asked. "Is that what happened?"

Rose nodded and Jack spoke. "That was all, just like she said."

"Ah…well, no harm then," the Master-at-Arms said. He released Jack’s wrist, who nodded thankfully.

"Thanks might be in order for your fiancé’s safe rescue," one of the men piped up.

Cal inwardly gritted his teeth but showed nothing of it. He reached into his pocket and pulled a twenty dollar bill out. "Much thanks," he said, handing it over.

Rose now hissed in her husband to-be’s ear. "Is that all I’m worth?" Her tone was angry and disdainful.

Cal looked at her with shock, then a glare, and then turned with a normal expression back to Jack. "As well, you might like to join us for dinner tomorrow evening," he said stiffly. Every word was bitter on his tongue. He’d be the laughingstock when this kid showed up at his table.

"Thanks very much," Jack replied. Cal was grateful to stalk away with the rest of the men, but Rose lingered behind for a moment longer.

"Might I be able to know my damsel-in-distress’s name?" he asked with a fake air of charm.

"Rose DeWitt Bukater," she said with a small nod. "Thank you."

She turned to walk away from Jack, but she felt that even after tomorrow night, it wouldn’t be the last time she saw him.

The End.

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