TOGETHER TILL THE END
Written by Jessica Rose
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

December 18, 1912

5:59 PM

Stepping off the platform of the Chippewa Falls train station, Rose Dawson looked around.

"So this is where he grew up," Rose thought. "This is where my Jack lived."

Jack. The word hit her like a hammer. It had been eight months since his death, but she still mourned him like it had happened yesterday.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered, "I love you so much."

Then she started walking down the dusty dirt road towards a restaurant called Final Draft. Maybe she could find some answers there.

*****

Opening the door to the restaurant, Rose looked around for someone she could talk to. She spotted a man counting change at a counter and, after drying her sweaty palms on her skirt, slowing her breathing, and fixing a smile on her face, she walked toward him.

"Hello," she said.

The man looked up at Rose and smiled. "Well, hello there! How may I help you?"

Rose struggled to stop herself from shaking as she spoke. "Yes, I was wondering if you knew a Jack Dawson?"

The man smiled even wider. "Well, sure I do! He's an excellent worker, I must say...hey, Jack!"

Rose practically fainted when Jack walked out of the back room.

"J-Jack?" she was able to stammer out. "You're alive?"

Jack's face had started out soft, but now it looked like hard steel, his normally laughing blue eyes a cold blue.

"Um, Mr. Robinson, is it all right if I talk to Rose outside?" The man nodded and Jack walked outside, Rose following.

"Oh, Jack, I've missed you so much!" Rose threw her arms around Jack's neck, but Jack took them off his neck and placed them by her sides.

"Jack, what's wrong?" Rose asked, feeling the tears spill down her cheeks. "What did I do?"

"You left me to die that night, Rose." He said it simply, without any emotion.

"What? No, Jack, I thought you were dead!"

"Well, have you ever heard of checking for a pulse?" He was sitting down now, tracing a stick in the ground.

"Thanks to you, I can't move my left hand, which means no more drawing. The only thing I'm good for is stocking shelves in the back room of Mr. Robinson's restaurant."

Rose stood paralyzed. She had done that?

"W-well, Jack, I'm so sorry. I didn't know. Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't want your sympathy!" he snapped. "Why did you come here, anyway?"

And he got up and ran down the dirt road. Rose sat sobbing into her hands. "What have I done wrong?" she cried aloud. "What did I do?"

She didn't notice how long she had been crying until she looked up and saw that it was dark, a light mist falling over everything. Rose sighed and wiped her eyes. Then she started up the dusty path to the house Jack had went in. Maybe she could tell him she was sorry. Maybe he would forgive her...and turn back into her Jack, the Jack she knew and loved.

*****

Stepping into the dusty, damp house, Rose looked around for Jack. She saw a light underneath what looked to be a study, so she went inside. Walking in, she saw Jack sitting in front of a fire, smoking a cigarette. She approached his chair and tapped on his shoulder.

"What do you want?" he growled, looking up at her with malice on his face. Rose felt her lips begin to tremble, but she held it back and started yelling.

"For you to stop this! To stop acting like...like Cal! Like because you're hurt, no one matters! Well, let me tell you something, Jack, I came here to find out more about the Jack Dawson I love, but instead I find a person who says he's Jack Dawson, but how could he be? The man I knew never, ever acted like the spoiled, selfish child you're acting like." And with that she turned and ran out of the room.

Jack sat speechless. For once in his life, he didn't know what to say. But he did know one thing. He did know Rose was right. He was acting like a child.

"You left me to die...because of you...it's your fault...what do you want..." His words to Rose rang in his head. Had he really said those things to her? My God, no wonder...

"I have to find her!" he thought. "I have to find her and tell her I'm sorry."

Jack walked around the house, looking for Rose. He stopped outside the dining room when he heard low sobbing, and muffled whispers that sounded like, "Jack hates me, he really hates me." Jack's heart broke when he heard this. Hate her? She thought that?

"Rose," he said softly, opening the door and walking toward her.

"Rose." He put his hand on her shoulder and spoke softly to her. After a while, the sobbing changed to sniffling.

"Jack," Rose said, in a scratchy voice.

"Yeah?" he asked. "Rose, look, I'm so sorry, about what I said, it was just...I guess I was looking for someone to blame for Titanic, and you were it. I didn't mean it Rose, and I don't hate you. I'm so, so, so sorry. Forgive me?"

Rose turned to face Jack. She studied his face, the way he looked at her, with love and care. He looked like Jack, her Jack, again. She broke into a smile, and said, "Oh, Jack, I forgive you." Jack smiled and held her in his arms.

"I love you, Rose," he said, softly.

"I love you, too, Jack," Rose said, running her hand up his chest. "I love you, too."

The End.

Stories