Written by Jill Ayers
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

Jack walked down a side street, his eyes staring straight ahead. He wasn't wandering around aimlessly like he…well…like he had since Titanic. Since the night he had lost her, lost Rose. It had been a twist of fate, really. The ship's suction had pulled them apart as it went beneath the icy waves. He had surfaced and called her name as loudly as he possibly could. But a man, the same man who had spilled beer on her two nights before, had pushed her down, back down into the water. She had not come back up.

So, he had found himself clinging to a piece of driftwood, but he hadn't really cared if he survived or not. All he could think about was what he had abandoned Rose to. His will to live was gone. Ironically, he did survive. One of the boats did come back. Strong hands had pulled him in. He had been too weak to offer any resistance. He had been too weak to say that they should save Rose, not him. All he could do was pray that she had survived.

She had not. As soon as he had recovered from his hypothermia well enough, he had checked the list of survivors. Rose DeWitt Bukater wasn't on it. When he saw that, Jack had done something he had not done since his parents had died in a fire five years before--he had cried. That had been over two months ago. Today was June twenty-sixth, her birthday. He wanted to say good-bye to her today. He wanted to release himself from the guilt and pain he had endured, even though he knew it would never go away.

That was why he was in Philadelphia. He had scraped together enough money from doing odd jobs to come here. To see her one last time.

He walked until he came to the cemetery where the man had told him that all DeWitt Bukaters were buried. He clutched the single red rose he had bought as he went inside. Her grave wasn't hard to find, and he went directly to it.

He knelt before her grave. "Rose, I miss you." His voice broke. "Why did you have to leave like this? Why?" He started sobbing again.

He paused to compose himself. "I loved you, Rose. I loved you more than anything in the world. I'm sorry I never told you."

"It's all right. I know, Jack. I always knew."

Jack turned. It couldn't be. Rose was dead. Yet it was her. She was standing just a few feet behind him.

He stood slowly, his whole body shaking. "How?" It was the only word he was capable of forming.

She took a few steps towards him. "After the man pushed me down, I swam farther than even I knew I could. I found what was left of a table and held onto it. A boat found me. When the Carpathia officer asked my name, I told him Rose Dawson."

Jack regained his strength as she said the last sentence. Rose Dawson. She had taken his name. The thought filled him with pure, unadulterated joy.

He moved to her until she was less than an inch away. "This is unbelievable. It's just too crazy to be true."

"I know. That's why I trust it." She smiled, apparently remembering the last time she had said those words.

He could contain himself no longer. He pulled her to him, their lips finding each other after too long apart. He had almost forgotten how good she tasted to him. He wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon.

They finally broke off the kiss. "So, how'd you get to Philadelphia? You still live here?"

"No. I live in an apartment in New York. I won my train ticket in a very lucky poker game."

Jack was stunned. Rose had actually played a game of poker. The same thing that brought them together once had brought them together again. In a cemetery of all places! Then again, he had met her when she was trying to kill herself. Fate sure did have an interesting way of doing things.

"Jack, what are you going to do now?"

"I think a better question is what are we going to do."

"I don't know. I haven't found a place to stay. I just came here to visit my father."

"Rose, I checked into a hotel for a couple of nights. It's not much, but I would you like to stay there."

"I'd like that."

She laid her head on his shoulder. He held her tight as he ran his fingers through her hair. He moved his hand down and stroked her gently, luxuriating in the feel of her skin. He looked down at her. Her hair was in a terrible tangle, and her clothes belied her new station in life. Despite all this, she was still that beautiful, fiery woman he had fallen in love with. The woman he would love for eternity. She was his Rose. His beautiful Rose. From now on, nothing on earth could come between them.

The End.

Stories