A/N: I meant to post this a lot sooner, but I'm in the process of moving and lost track of time. So thank you for waiting so patiently! I hope you enjoy this final chapter.

Chapter Three: Part 3

A hand flew to Rose's mouth as she realized what she'd confessed. It was as if something heavy had been pressing on her throat, forcing the words she'd been hiding away to eject from her mouth. Both Cal and Ruth stared at Rose's startled eyes, mouths wanting to drop agape, but keeping their composure in spite of the shock.

Before anyone could say anything, Rose's initial shock crashed down into sobs. "I-I meant to tell you eventually," she cried to her mother, "but how I would… I couldn't imagine… It's been over a year and it still burns me."

"Oh, Rose." Ruth's voice cracked through her dry throat. "My darling, I had no idea…"

Rose found working especially hard the past couple of weeks. Nearly every day, she was becoming ill, having difficulty keeping any food down. She'd never called off from work, even during previous sick days, but the constant vomiting was becoming too much to bear. She made the difficult decision to stay home for a couple days and see a doctor, all helped by Will's urging.

Leaving the appointment with the news that she was pregnant was a blow to her already queasy gut. She was pregnant...with Jack's baby. She wasn't delusional enough to wonder for a second how that had happened, but the surprise was there nonetheless. She didn't even have a picture of Jack. Now she was going to have his baby?

"I remember I told Will later that day...and having to explain to him what had happened was…" She could barely do it now.

"I was on the Titanic." Rose gulped away the cracks in her throat. "I was sailing with...my husband. He died." It was the first time Rose had told anybody that her lover had passed, even if the truth was smeared a bit. "And I guess we… We're having a baby now." Just saying it made her stomach clench, and she bit back any more tears. "I guess this is really happening…"

"He comforted me, which was more than I could ask for in a friend at the time. Most people I knew before then – strangers, mostly – were piteous when they found out what had happened. Will was...kind. Sympathetic. And he said he wanted to help me in any way that he could."

"I really appreciate it." Rose, at six months pregnant, was grateful to have help with carrying her groceries. She could try to balance the bags around her protruding abdomen, but she was off-kilter as is.

"Here we are," Will said while entering the kitchen. Rose collapsed on the couch, her hand resting on her stomach as she took a couple deep breaths. "Feeling alright?"

"Yes." Rose massaged the kicks in her belly. "Just wanting this to end now."

Will grinned as he opened the fridge. "Only a few more months."

Despite being (or at least feeling) huge, and a moving baby inside of her, Rose still had a hard time believing she was pregnant. Maybe if Jack was there, and he was celebrating the news with her, things would have felt different…

"Come on," Will said as he offered her his hand. "You need to lie down somewhere more comfortable than this couch."

With Will's help, she didn't have to make that pathetic grunt that she often made every morning, climbing out of bed on her own. "Thank you," she said for the tenth time that day.

"How many times do I have to tell you you don't have to thank me?"

"He was very helpful to me during the whole pregnancy. I was actually writing a letter to him before…" She looked at Cal, who was now avoiding eye contact with her. A red flush of something – embarrassment, upset, anger – took hold of his face. "Anyway. On January twenty-first, I-I gave birth to a little boy... " She couldn't hold back the floodgate anymore. "I wanted to name him after…him, but the pain was still too much. So I named him after my father instead…"

"Charlie Jack Dawson." Rose cradled the little stranger that she'd created. So far, he had the exact same blue eyes as his father, a bright blue, inquisitive look. "That's his name."

"He's beautiful, Rose," Will said as he set a warm cup of tea on her bedside. "How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days." Rose sighed. Everything about her felt torn up, from her thighs to her head. Hours of pushing had been more unpleasant than she'd imagined. She sat up despite the soreness taking over her abdomen. "I think I just need to rest…"

As much as she didn't want to let go of Charlie, she had to let him rest, too. After all, it must have been just as exhausting to be thrust into an unfamiliar world where the voice you'd been hearing for months finally had a face to stare at. Charlie had only opened his eyes once before going straight back to sleep, his blue eyes locking onto Rose's for that split second. Just holding Charlie in her arms made the past nine months that much more real.

"I can hardly believe this is happening," Rose said as she let a hand caress Charlie's soft forehead. For a brief moment, she imagined Jack doing the same, feeling the same as she did right then. "He's not even here…"

"It's okay, Rose." Will came up behind her and placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "You'll be an amazing mother. I just know it."

Rose laughed, though weakly due to her pain. Tears pricked at her eyes. "I have doubts." She sat back down on the bed, relieving her shaky legs. She tugged her robe closer around her body as she felt herself tremble. Will sat down next to her, grabbing a hand in comfort. "But thank you for being here. I really appreciate it."

"Of course." Will squeezed her hand. "That's what friends are for, right?"

"For a whole year, he was perfect, and all mine." She smiled thinking about Charlie's squished newborn face, how adorable he was even before his first smile. "Will lended me some money so I could spend some time off with my son." My son… Just saying those words was heavy. "I really believed everything was going to be alright…"

By now, Rose knew that she was living the life Jack had wanted her to have. She worked hard, yes, but now she had a family, no longer alone for as long as she'd live. After taking a couple of months off to spend her full attention on Charlie, she returned to her seamstressing position while a kindly neighbor from across the hall offered to watch Charlie for free, having grown closer to Rose since the birth of the baby. For being only two months old, Charlie had charisma, and no one was immune to his cute face.

Often Rose found herself resting with Charlie on her chest, his soft head in the crook of her neck. Even as he got bigger, they'd fall asleep like that, mother and child, and each time his warmth made Rose drift off with a smile. She'd wake up feeling more refreshed than she had in years, and all because of the baby supported in her arms. She'd then admire his button nose and miniscule chin, grinning at the thought of his smile. Brushing the top of his blond head with the back of a finger, she couldn't picture being luckier than she was right then.

On Charlie's first birthday, Rose wrote a letter to Jack. Yes, she knew he was gone and not coming back – but she was bursting with excitement for her child's special day, a year since bliss had arrived in her life, and she had to share it with someone. Dear Jack, she wrote with a furious hand, today is our son's first birthday… A year that has passed more quickly than any other in my life, though I wish more than ever that it will slow. I don't think I've told you before, but he looks just like you, Jack, from the eyes to the smile. Sometimes I imagine just how wonderful of a father you would have been…

Wet drops landed on the paper. As much as she had loved Jack, she tried to keep him out of her mind for her sanity's sake, though it was the most difficult challenge taking care of his lookalike every day. When she did think of him, she still cried, though her sobs were more quiet and peaceful, less wrenching and tearful.

Once she finished the letter and cleaned herself up, she sealed it and placed it in the bottom drawer of her desk. "Happy birthday, baby," Rose said while taking Charlie from Will's arms, his little face smeared with cake. Will could tell that her voice was congested, but he didn't say a word. Rose tapped the tip of Charlie's nose despite the mess it created on her finger. "My sweet baby…"

A couple weeks later, Rose was woken up by a cough in the night. Something phlegmy and rough, like a disease was taking root in the lungs. At first, she thought she'd dreamed it, but another cough rang through the hall. Sprinting out of bed, she burst into Charlie's room and found him awake, his face red and hot from the coughing that had now become nonstop. "It's okay, sweetie," Rose said while picking him up, her heart throbbing with each struggling breath. "It'll be alright…"

Ruth had a sickly sense of where this was going. Standing up, she pulled Rose out of her story and faced Cal. "You need to leave. This is…only something between the two of us."

After escorting Cal out and politely refusing any offer he might still make (who knew if his feelings were the same?), Rose closed the door behind him, pushing it until a little click was heard. Another part of her past was settled with, at least for now. She was grateful for her mother's decision to kick Cal out. The next part she had to tell made her knees shake.

Ruth accompanied Rose back to the couch, a supportive arm around her. "I called the doctor that night." Rose bit her bottom lip, shrugging her shoulders; the only way she could get through this story was if she brushed it off. "Within a few hours, he was, um…"

"We're sorry, but there was only so much we could do for your son."

Rose had been sobbing for hours, but she'd stopped when she couldn't hear the coughing anymore. In her heart of hearts, she knew that her baby was gone. But for a sweet, short second, she believed that maybe her gut feeling was wrong. "Oh… Okay." She wiped at her eyes, which were wrinkled in confusion. "Oh… That's fine, then. Thank you, yes. Thank you…"

The nurse looked at a shocked Rose with pity as the doctor came out of the room where Charlie had been struggling to breathe only a few moments before. It wasn't easy losing anyone, especially a child, but the doctor's grief was minimal in comparison to Rose's. "He's ready to be seen," he said before placing a comforting hand on Rose's shoulder. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Dawson."

Two years of growing someone great, and within a few hours, just like that… Charlie Jack Dawson was gone.

Hours after returning from the cemetery, where she somehow kept a dry eye despite looking down at her child's tiny grave, Rose knew she needed to relieve her heart of everything that had been weighing on it.

"I have something to tell you, Will. I was never married. The baby I'd had… It was all out of wedlock. But I kept it a secret because... because… I didn't want the world to treat him any differently just because of my choices." The baby… Charlie… He was just there a week ago. Where had he gone now that his body had been placed in the barren earth?

If Will was shocked by her confession, he didn't show it. His heart, though, grieved all the same. "He would have made a fine young man."

"Yes, he would have." Tears rolled down Rose's cheeks, one after the other. "Just like his father."

"He was all I had left of him." Rose's voice was quiet, ghost-like, as she neared the conclusion of what had been causing her so much suffering and loss. "I lied to protect him… but I guess none of that matters now."

A moment of silence encased them, broken only by Rose's voice, cracking with grief.

"I loved him so much," she sobbed, breaking only to take a breath in to avoid passing out. Her hand curled up at her heart, which felt like it was shriveling as she continued, "And I just can't see how all of my love wasn't enough to keep him with me."

Later, once composed, Rose handed Ruth a photo of her holding a smiling baby Charlie. "I carry this with me everywhere. You can probably tell the edges are worn. But this is the only photo I have of him."

The night of Charlie's funeral, Rose had a peculiar dream. She imagined that Jack was there in the room with her, resting on her bedside while holding a photo of Charlie. "Rose," he said in a voice that held too much substance to be fake. "Hey."

"Jack." She sat up, rubbing her eyes just to be sure he was really there. "What are you–"

"I'm not actually here, Rose." The sorry look in his tear-filled eyes proved that. "But after today, I needed to come see you."

"Oh, Jack…" She could feel the fresh batch of tears pressing on the back of her eyes. "I'm so sorry. I didn't–"

"Don't apologize," he said, stopping her in her spiral. "You did nothing wrong, Rose. It wasn't your fault." He looked down at the photo he clasped in his hand. "It was just his time, just like it was mine."

The room echoed with Rose's cries. "Do you– do you see him?" she asked, hand at her heart as if she was trying to keep it from breaking into pieces.

"Yes," Jack said. When he reached out to grab her hand, it felt warm, real. "He's with me now. I promise I'll take good care of him – until you can be with us."

A pause. "You'll be alright, Rose. Trust me."

The next few weeks passed by in a blur. Soon, six months had passed, and Rose wasn't anymore uplifted despite Jack's reassuring visit in her sleep. In fact, she got fired from both of her jobs, unable to show up to work most days.

"Rose, I think you need to leave New York," Will told her one day as she wiped down the counters of the bar on her last day, only partly paying attention. "It's not safe for you here anymore."

"I guess I came back here because…I needed some place to call home again." Rose glanced at Ruth, who was now sitting directly next to Rose, holding her hand. "But now you know exactly what happened these past three years...and why I decided to come back."

She had failed at living the life that Jack had promised her. Without him, though, she guessed the entire scheme was bound to fail in the first place. She'd lost his child and her livelihood; aside from Will's friendship, there was nothing keeping her in New York anymore. Walking through the city had become a painful reminder that her son was no longer with her. Where else was she supposed to go? To Santa Monica, to live out more dreams that were once promised? No, nothing held the same gravity anymore since Charlie had died. Even thinking about Santa Monica only gave off a weak flame, the pier something she'd wanted to share with her child more than on her own.

Rose stood up and walked, legs no longer trembling, to the foyer, taking a deep breath. She'd said it all. Her eyes drifted downward as her vision blurred and her shoulders fell down, defeated.

"Rose?" Ruth stepped from behind, interrupting what could have quickly become a mournful spiral.

Rose kept her back turned."Yes, Mother?"

Ruth took a few steps closer to Rose, her hand hesitating over Rose's shoulder before falling down. "You'll be alright, dear."

You'll be alright, Rose, Jack's voice echoed in her head. Maybe he was right; she'd bared her secrets and survived. Nothing was kept buried down anymore. For once, a glimpse of a smile drifted over her face. "I know."

A/N: I got so excited writing this story, I didn't realize I didn't have a way to end it until, well...until I got to the ending and was left with a blank. Needless to say, I'm not the biggest fan myself of how I've decided to wrap up this story; certainly, if I think of something I like better, I'll edit it and let you all know. But I want to hear from you: what did you think?

Thanks again for reading this dreary piece, and I hope to post again soon! (I do plan on posting the Butterfly in a Glass Jar sequel this week, but if I don't, just know that life is a bit hectic right now as I move. Certainly by next week I will post, if not this week.)