Jack read the last line of Rose's letter and took a long look at the picture she had sent with it. He sighed. His drawing sure didn't do her justice. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

"Is that your girl, boy-o? She's a looker." Tommy Ryan, a young man with curly blond hair and a mischievous grin stood behind him, taking a look at the picture as well.

"She's not my girl...she's just a girl I met before I was sent here. She's kind enough to let me write to her since I don't have anyone else," Jack shrugged, placing the picture back into the envelope it had came in. He didn't want to give too much thought into Tommy's enquiry. After all, Rose still was engaged. She was just kind enough to do him this favor while he was away.

"Well, if I were you, I'd hurry up and make her my girl. Give yourself someone to fight for, someone to return to, yeah?"

Jack smiled in reply. He liked that idea, but again. Rose was engaged. He couldn't possibly woo her away from the man through letters. Could he? Chuckling, he shook the thought from his head. He was pretty sure that it would take a lot more than letters and sketches to get a girl like Rose. A lot more that he simply couldn't accomplish from where he was.

"As much as I'd like the idea of returning home to a girl like Rose, I'm not getting my hopes up," Jack sighed, stuffing the letter away. "It's enough that she agreed to exchange letters with me."

"Well that's one hell of a start," Tommy gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder before continuing on to wherever he was going, leaving Jack bemused.

That Tommy was one funny character. There were two people he found himself gravitating towards. Tommy Ryan and Fabrizio DeRossi. The three of them had all became fast friends and had been inseparable practically since orientation. The two men were funny and fun loving and the three of them complimented each other nicely. Jack hoped that all three of them came out of this war in one piece. They were good men who had so much life to experience. None of it should be threatened by this war, but it was, which pretty much sucked. But what could one do, but roll with the punches and what time one had left count?

At a loss at what to do next, he decided to return to his tent and reply to Rose's letter. He settled down onto his cot and pulled out the pen and a pad of stationary that he kept in his knapsack and began to write, stopping every so often to think of what to say. He didn't want to seem pushy and clingy, yet he didn't want to seem standoffish and unwilling to share information either.

Dear Rose,

I recieved your letter and picture and I must say that my drawings don't do you justice. You are even more beautiful than I remember. I know that must be inappropriate to say to an engaged lady, but I always believed in honesty and your beauty is an honest fact. Maybe someday you can pose for me and I can draw you as you actually are. For now, I'll try again to capture your beauty, from the picture you had sent.

My friend Tommy saw your picture and assumed that you were my girl, waiting for me to come home. Don't worry, I sat him straight and told him that you were a just a girl kind enough to allow me to write to her. He thinks that maybe you could be the girl I come home to, but I have no illusions. You have your fiancee and I may not even make it out of Vietnam. But if things were different...if you were free...and survival was guaranteed...I do believe that I would definitely like to come home to you...or a girl like you anyway.

But ignore those musings. Things are what they are, and your friendship is more than I can ask right now. Just knowing that there's someone in the outside world willing to read my badly written letters...it means more to me than I could ever say.

Enough about my inward musings, they're boring anyway and I do not want to bore you. I should tell you more about this place, or at least about the guys I've met here. Guys like Tommy Ryan and Fabrizio DeRossi. Both of them are great guys. Tommy is from Ireland and Fabrizio is Italian, both of them had moved to the US when they were children and are quite proud to be fighting for this country. So far, they are great guys. They're funny and interesting and keep me from dwelling on the fight to come too much. I think you'd like them. I will sketch pictures of them and send them along with this letter.

You don't have to write back, Rose. I know that it is probably inappropriate for you to do so, but I again thank you for allowing me to write to you.

I will leave off here, for now. I will write again. I hope things are going well for you. Remember, make each day count. Life is too short not to. I'll write to you again, the pretty red head girl with the ribbon in her hair.

Sincerely yours,

Jack Dawson

...

Rose fought back a yawn as she eyed the dessert that the waiter had sat before her. It was another date night with Cal, and the boredom she felt seemed worse than ever before. Staring at the chocolate cake, her apppetite gone, she again wondered if there was something wrong with her. Cal was tall, dark and handsome and one of the richest men in the city. He was considered a great catch for any young girl. Rose should have considered herself lucky to have gained his affection, even though she had no idea how she had accomplished such a feat.

Yes. She was one lucky girl...even though she felt anything but lucky. In fact, she felt cursed. Cal was not the knight in shining armor that her mother liked to claim him to be. Sure, he wa handsome and and could buy her anything she could want. But he was also creul, selfish, thoughtless, and boring. There was nothing he cared about more than his reputation. Well, she'll take that back. There was something that he cared more about than his reputation. Money. Money and staying out of the war.

"I told father that we should make this war work for us. That there is no sense in allowing Hockley steel to miss out on the money to be made during the conflict. The competition is getting rich. Why can't we. It's only fair, don't you say sweetpea?" Cal looked at her expectingly, sure that she had been hanging on his every word, unaware that Rose thought that this was the most boring conversations of all conversations.

"Of course," She made herself smile, not wanting to state her true opinion of the war and his ability to make money off of it. Not wanting him to know that in her opinion, they shouldn't even be in Vietnam at all! That it was wrong and it was wrong that young, interesting young men like Jack Dawson were forced to fight while men like Caledon Hockley made a profit while they hid behind their ivy league walls! Talk about fair...

Sighing, she shook the rant from her head, knowing that there was no use in dwelling on it. If she spoke her mind to Cal, not only would there be a problem with him, but with her mother as well. Ruth had made it loud and clear that Rose was to be the well brought up lady that she had been trained to be.

It was another thirty minutes of listening to Cal rant on about his school and his coming responsibilities before Rose was finally allowed to go home. Tolerating a quick peck on the cheek, Rose bidded Cal good bye before making her way up to her room, relieved that another date with the man was over. Honestly, she didn't know how much more she could take. She would have ended it months ago, but everytime she even hinted at the possibility of breaking up with Cal, her mother would again lament about their financial situation and how she wished that they weren't going broke. That it was the kindess of Caledon Hockley that helped them keep some semblance of their old life. That without him, they would be destitute and Rose should be more grateful to the man who had deemed her worthy of his attention. It was like Ruth had some kind of radar.

But it was going to have to end soon, or else Rose would be trapped in a loveless marriage, something that she definitely didn't want.

Stepping into the house, she wasn't surprised to find her mother waiting up for her, probably wanting to hear all of the morbid details, but Rose was not in the mood to share. She had a headache. All she wanted to do was go upstairs and go to bed and forget about the last four hours of her life that she'll never get back.

"Rose," Ruth stepped into her path, a bright smile curving her thin lips. "How did it go tonight? Did you two finally set a date? Tell me you did..."

Rose sighed and rolled her eyes, wishing that her mother would stop pushing this...unholy union. "No, we did not set a date, mother. Cal just talked mostly about his school and taking over his father's business, once again. That seems to be all the man can talk about."

"Rose!"

"Calm down, mother. I'm just telling the truth."

Ruth sighed, exasperated. She just didn't understand her daughter at all! Any other young woman in their situation would be happy and grateful to garner the affections of a well to do young man like Caledon Hockley! He was their salvation! But oh not her daughter! As always, Rose had to be difficult when it came to doing what was best for what was left of their family.

Sensing another lecture on the way, Rose headed for the stairs, feeling her headache gettiing worse. "Mother, let's not do this now. It's been a long, eventful evening and all I want to do right now is go to bed. I do have work in the morning."

"Very well then, go. I was just curious about how your evening went."

Rose reply to that. She just turned and went upstairs, hoping for the rest of the night to be a peaceful one. One where she didn't have to think about Cal or of her situation at all. To be honest, she tired of all of it. Sometimes, she was tempted to just leave. Walk away from it all and never look back.

Placing her purse on her desk, her eyes fell onto the white envelope with the return address of an army base. She couldn't help the smile that appeared just at the sight of it. Jack. He had written her again. All ready, the evening was looking a lot brighter.

She picked up the letter and opened it as she sat down on the edge of her bed. She read the letter, her heart pounding at his words. She sighed. If things were different, if she was free and his survival was guaranteed, he wouldn't mind coming home to her. She was worth coming home to.

Was he worth waiting for? Even if his survival wasn't guaranteed?

Remembering his beautiful smile and his lovely eyes and how he made her feel during their short conversation. Looking at the drawings he had sent her...she had to say that yes. He was worth waiting for...even if he never did return. If things were different...Rose would wait. She'd wait for him forever.

A part of her was scared of that realization...that she had actually met a man that she didn't mind waiting for...a man that she felt was worth any and everything. She had never thought that she would find someone like that...but she had, but she was engaged to that horrible Hockley and...and Jack may not come back. He may be killed in the line of fire. She could fall in love with this man and it would all be for not.

She had the worse luck it seemed. She was rushed into a loveless engagement, just to be in danger of falling for a young man who was off to Vietnam.

But what if he didn't die? What if he survived and returned? What if she decided to wait for him after all, Cal and her mother be damned? What if he came back to her and she could have the life that she had always wanted instead of the one that her mother planned?

Dare she risk it?

Looking at Jack's sincerely yours, she felt that she wanted to. She wanted to wait for Jack. But should she admit it? Should she write back and tell him that he did have someone to come home to, so he better fight to stay alive?

Maybe.

God, this was crazy...but that was why she trusted it. Trusting the crazy...it had never lead her wrong before. She didn't think it would now.

Placing the letter back into the envelope, Rose returned to her desk and sat down and picked up her pen and stationary and began to write, feeling that she was taking her future into her own hands once again.