Written by Jo
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
Rose clutched his hand tightly. This couldn't
be happening. Not after they'd come this far. No!
"There's a boat, Jack! Jack," she
whimpered. She gently laid her head on his hands. She had given up. Take my
spirit, she thought. I want to die. I want to be with you, Jack.
You promised, Rose. You promised me you'd
go on. Now, go, Rose, she could hear him, feel him say. Rose lifted her head and stared after the light. The
voice swimming in her head, the light sweeping back and forth across the
water--both made her feel as if she were in a dream world. A world of
nightmares. But she had to call the boat back.
"Come back!" she whispered harshly.
No, louder! "Come back! Come back!" They were too far away to hear
her voice. Rose looked down at him. She tried let him go. Their hands were
frozen together.
Rose gaped at her hand, frozen to his, for a
split moment. Then, she gently broke her hand away from him. "I'll never
let go! I promise!" she whispered, kissing his cold, dead skin. And she
watched as he floated away from her. Floated down. Down. Her only love was
consumed by the darkness of the water.
Rose mustered all the strength within her,
pushed herself off the piece of wood she had climbed upon, and half-swimming,
half-drowning, some how made her stiff limbs carry her to where First Officer
Henry T. Wilde bobbed, clinging to a board. No breath escaped his blue lips.
His eyes were shut. Rose grabbed the whistle from his lips and put it to hers.
At first, she could barely make any sound, but she blew harder and harder. Rose
blew furiously into the whistle. And she did not stop until she was hoisted
into the lifeboat, a heap of heavy blankets were laid on her, and someone
gently pried the little silver whistle from between her frozen lips.
*****
Rose sat up with a start, upsetting the cot
she was laying on. She gazed about, disoriented. Then, everything came back
with such a rush, she was forced to lay down on the hard floor. But she wasn't
alone. Not by any means. Everywhere she looked, all she could see were women,
and even men, weeping, crying, screaming. She had not shed a tear. Her entire
body was too exhausted. It was all she could do to sit up and numbly sip the
tea and soup she constantly found beside her cot.
"Are you all right, miss?" someone
asked from beside her. She struggled to sit up.
"Yes. Thank you, sir," she mumbled.
Rose noticed yet another bowl and cup beside her overturned cot once more. The
man seemed to blush as he saw her eyes rest upon what he had brought her.
"I'm sorry. I'm the one who's been
bringing you the soup and such," he said, assisting her as she struggled
to stand. "The doctor said you haven't got any frostbite, miss. Lucky for
you," he offered.
"Yes, lucky for me," she whispered
as she gripped the edge of the cot, trying to flip it back over. The man
reached out. Rose drew her hands back as he turned the cot over. She settled
down on it, and he handed her the tea. She looked at him.
"I'm Jack Calvert," he said,
smiling. That name--Jack. It struck such pain in her heart!
"Rose," she mumbled, offering no
more than that. He glanced at her questioningly, but pushed her no further.
"Well, Miss Rose, I suppose I should
move on. I'll leave you be," he said quietly. She watched as he turned and
walked to the next cot, offering another person tea and soup.
And Rose realized that in the few moments she
had spent with Jack Calvert, she had forgotten all her pain.
The End.