Written by Sierra Crane
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.

April, 1912

Cal scrambled about the Titanic, searching for a way onto one of the lifeboats...searching in vain. No men allowed. Only women and children. He watched helplessly as the wives and tiny children floated away with tears in their eyes, and the husbands, brothers, and sons stayed bravely behind, sacrificing themselves so others could live.

The ship lurched forward, and Cal slid down the deck, slamming against the wall with a loud thud and a grunt. He felt a sharp pain in his back, and then his head, and everything went black.

*****

"Come on, Rose!" Jack grasped Rose's hand firmly as he struggled to reach the higher end of the ship. Rose hung on, soaking wet and freezing, her flaming red hair was stuck to her forehead. And then Jack turned briefly, long enough to see Cal slumped against the edge, blood running down his forehead.

"Jack," Rose said cautiously, "don't."

"I can't leave him there!" Jack insisted. "Get higher, Rose. I'll be back."

"Jack--"

"I promise."

Jack let go of Rose's hand and slid down the deck, trying to stay on his feet. He finally reached Cal's side and shook him roughly. "Cal, wake up!" Jack cried. "Wake up!"

Cal blinked and opened his eyes. His voice was weak. "You..."

"Yeah, me." Jack pulled Cal to his feet and slipped an arm under the man's shoulders, supporting him. "Come on."

"What the hell...are you doing?" Cal was barely conscious.

"We're going under!" someone shouted.

Jack looked up in time to see people flying from above, jumping and getting caught in the propellers. He grimaced in disgust. "Cal," he said, "I'm getting out of this alive...I promised Rose--"

"Rose." Cal laughed bitterly. "Stupid whore--"

"Listen to me!" Jack shouted. "We're going under, and I am not dying for you! But if we stay close, we'll both make it out alive!"

Before Cal could reply, the ship sank into the sea.

*****

Rose was dragged aboard the Carpathia, shivering violently and mourning for her lost love. The sailors were as sympathetic as possible, considering they were all rough old bachelors, or boys too young to understand.

"Jack..." Rose whispered as they put her down on a cot.

"Rose!"

Rose looked up as her mother, Ruth, came in. She had never seen her mother look so frightened before. The older woman's eyes were wide with fear. She held Rose's hand as if her daughter was everything to her. "Oh, thank God you're safe," she murmured.

"Mother?" Rose looked confused.

"I was so worried!"

Mother? Worried about me? Oddly enough, that fact brought comfort to Rose as she drifted into a deep sleep. She woke up in the ship’s hospital two days later. Ruth was still by her side.

"Jack," she said.

"Mr. Dawson?" Ruth nodded slowly. "I haven't heard anything, Rose. The casualty list is going out today."

"Oh, Jack..." Rose wiped away her tears as two men stepped into the doorway.

One was tall, dark, and dashingly handsome, an eerie expression on his face and eyes that held absolutely no emotion. The other was shorter, blond-haired and blue-eyed. His young face was lit up in a smile.

"Rose!" he gasped.

"Jack!" Rose ignored her mother's protests and leapt out of bed, throwing herself into Jack's arms and kissing him passionately. When she embraced him, she met Cal's cold eyes in a long stare, and it was then that she saw the raw emotion...pain, confusion, anger, love.

"I-I'm relieved to see you survived, Rose," was all he said. And then he turned away.

Rose watched his back retreating. The broad shoulders were slumped, but all she could feel was the warmth of Jack's body against her. "I love you," he whispered.

April, 1931

"I thought I was going to be ill!" Rose laughed as she and Jack rode away from the roller coaster. Jack smiled and laughed with her, leaning over and stroking his horse's glossy coat. "So did I," he agreed. "Come on. Let's check into a hotel. I'm starved and exhausted."

*****

Rose and Jack made their way up the stairs and to their hotel room. Late that night, Jack had just turned the knob of their door when a gunshot rang out. "What was that?" Rose asked anxiously.

"It came from that room," Jack replied, pointing a few doors down.

Others scrambled out of their rooms and into the room where the shot originated. Someone cried, "It's Mr. Hockley!"

Hockley? Rose asked silently. Oh, no. Not Cal. She rushed in and gaped in horror at Cal's body lying beside the window, blood covering what was left of his face, his wife standing in utter shock and despair.

"Cal," said Jack simply.

Rose nodded, leaning against her husband for support, unable to ignore the look of utter despair in Cal's eyes, once so devoid of all emotion. This is my fault, she thought.

"Somebody call for help!"

"No," Mrs. Hockley said. "It's too late." She knelt by her husband's side and slowly retrieved a picture from his coat pocket. Rose gasped a little and looked away...it was her, looking glamorous in that old red evening gown, a diamond necklace around her white neck.

"Another victim of the Titanic," someone muttered.

"He never recovered from that," Mrs. Hockley agreed.

"No." Rose went over and touched Cal's forehead. It was still warm and full of life. "This wasn't the Titanic...this was me."

The End.

Stories