Rated: PG

Please, Mr. Dawson." Sam Roberts pleaded with his boss not to fire him. "It's Christmas Eve! I can't afford to lose my job right now."

Jack sighed and rolled his eyes in his head. They were all like that. He called them idiots. His business had to be run right--he could not afford to have any more mistakes. He owned his own art museum. It was one of the most popular ones. Morons like this guy were not going to ruin it for him.

"You are fired, Sam!" Jack yelled before a brief smile. "That'll teach you to be on time on your next job, huh?"

A folder went flying to Sam's head, and Jack let out a slight laugh. "Now get the hell out of my office!"

After Jack literally kicked Sam out of his huge office, he went to his desk and drank his brandy quietly. It was December, 1930. Jack rubbed his eyes, trying to make the voices inside of his head go away. Why would he still be thinking about that night? That was over eighteen years ago...it was all over now. Gone. Rose was gone.

The phone rang, and Jack picked it up. "What!"

"Mr. Dawson," the man on the other line began. "We were wondering if you would like to donate money for some poor children..."

"Charity?" Jack asked with disgust. "I don't have time for this. Call the main office, and talk to them. It's their job down there to make sure I don't get phone calls that waste my time."

"Listen, Mr. Dawson," he tried again. "We know you will come around..."

"Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do!" Jack said. Then, he realized where he had heard it before. He suddenly began to shake, and he hung up the phone without even saying good-bye.

As he took another drink from the glass, he heard a knock on the door. He sighed, and he said, "Come in!"

The door knocked again.

Jack was getting even angrier. He got up out of his chair and opened the door. "What in the hell do you want?" Then, he took a deep breath when he finally noticed who it was. The man standing in front of him was Caledon Hockley.

"Hello, Jack," he said smugly. But, it was not the Cal Jack remembered. Jack was almost sure that he had read in the newspaper that Cal had committed suicide last year. Then he noticed how bad Cal smelled, and what he looked like up close. He looked like he had come from the grave. Wait a minute...

"I think I need a drink," Jack said, trying to convince himself that this was some horrible nightmare.

"It's no dream, Dawson," Cal muttered, reading Jack's mind. "Yes, I am from the dead. From hell, actually."

"Big surprise." Jack laughed slightly, despite the situation.

"And if you don't shape up soon, you will be here someday." Cal walked around Jack in a circle, studying him. "Wouldn't you like to go to heaven? And maybe be with Rose?"

"Rose?" Jack's face lit up. "You know where Rose is?"

Cal laughed. "Listen, Jack," Cal said. "I'm gonna show you something." Cal snapped his fingers, and suddenly they were both on the Dawson farm.

"Oh, my God..."

"Yes, Jack," Cal said. "The year is 1900. Let's go see what's happening inside." They walked up to the big farmhouse and crept inside.

Jack saw his parents, both sitting at the dining room table, finishing their Christmas dinner. "Where could Jack be?" his mother asked. "He promised me that he would not be late again."

Jack smiled. "Mama, I'm right here! Can't you see me?" Jack waved his hands in front of his mother's face until Cal pulled them away.

"Jack," Cal started. "Don't you get it? They can't hear you nor see you. This isn't even real...we're just traveling down memory lane, okay?"

Still a little confused, Jack watched.

Eight-year-old Jack Dawson walked through the front door. "Where have you been, young man?" Mr. Dawson asked. "You were supposed to be home nearly an hour ago. Where were you?"

Jack looked shy. "I was down at Rick's house...we were playing, and I forgot to..."

Jack's father slapped him, hard, across the face. The older Jack jumped and still remembered how that had felt. "When your mother says seven o'clock, it means seven o'clock. Do you understand, Jack?"

"Yes, Pa."

"Now get to bed!"

Cal got Jack's attention again, and he took them back to Jack's office. "Well," Cal said. "I'm off. Be expecting your second Christmas visitor in one hour."

Jack, a little drunk, waved good-bye. He sat down in his big office chair, and slowly drifted off into sleep. He woke up about sixty minutes later. Someone was shaking him. Someone wanted him awake. It was someone with a deep accent.

"Fabrizio?" Jack asked, not believing his best friend was standing right next to him.

Fabrizio smiled and hugged Jack. "Not all ghosts are evil, my friend."

Jack smiled. "Are you gonna show me some more memories?"

"Kinda," Fabrizio replied with a smile. "Come on."

Then, they were in a house. A house Jack did not recognize. It was a mansion. It looked like a king could live there. Then, he heard her. He heard that beautiful voice he hadn't heard since 1912...Rose.

"What do you need now, Cal?" she asked, coming into the room.

"Where is Fred?" he asked in a hurry. "I need to know where my son is at all times!"

"See," Fabrizio whispered. "This would be Rose's life if she would have never of met you. If she would have never boarded Titanic." Jack watched the scene play out. Would Cal still be treating her bad after all of this time?

Cal punched Rose. "You're a rotten mother."

"No!" Jack screamed, but could not run to help Rose. It was no use.

"Remember Jack?" Fabrizio asked. "They're not really here."

"Come on," Fabrizio said. "Let's get you back."

As they entered Jack's office again, Fabrizio said good-bye. "You will have one more visitor before the night is over."

Jack nodded and watched his friend leave.

He hadn't even realized that he had passed out on the floor. But, when Jack woke up, he was not there anymore. He was on a ship. But not just any ship. It was the Titanic. He was on the grand staircase. He turned to look and saw her smile at him.

"Hello, Jack," Rose said sweetly.

"Rose?" Jack asked, unable to move.

Rose came closer. "They sent me to talk to you. I've been watching you live for us..."

Jack's heart almost stopped beating. She had seen his evil life? What must she think? He still loved her...did she love him? Jack felt her hair and kissed her. He wanted to do that for eighteen years. She smiled.

"I know you are a good person, Jack Dawson," Rose said. "You can change. If not for everyone else, do it for yourself."

"I've wanted to change Rose, really," Jack replied. "But...I found it hard knowing I would never see you again."

"If you change your ways Jack," Rose said, staring him in the eyes, "we will be together forever. Don't you want that?" Jack nodded and kissed her again. He wanted that more than anything.

"Live for me, Jack. Live for us."

Jack woke up the next morning in his bed. Had it all been a dream?

It was Christmas. He smiled for the first time in eighteen years. He was actually happy to be alive. Happy to be able to live a life for him and Rose. To be able to give something back to the woman who had given him so much.

After throwing on some clothes and a warm coat, Jack ran down to the museum. "What is everyone doing at work?" he asked his employees. "It's Christmas! Everyone go home, and don't come back until after the New Year. That's an order!" He finished with a smile. "Merry Christmas!"

The end.

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