This was the original ending until I changed it. But decide yourself which is the best and let me know :)
May 1st 1912.
Caledon Hockley had been responsible for a lot of misery in his life, Jack was sure. But on his final afternoon in the office, before he and Rose were to depart for a warmer side of the country, the newspaper reported that Hockley was in Boston in business. Or so it was printed. There were also reports of his valet Spicer Lovejoy. Between the pair of them, they sent the gossip rags spinning and people ate it right up. As the papers were layered onto his desk though; he slid them straight into the waste paper basket. What would he care?
Hockley, now, could be about but he was almost a myth. Disappearing into the crowds as they waited for a lifeboat after Lovejoy had tried to capture Rose, but for what?
Now, though, sitting at the crack of dawn inside the study which had somehow been built from dust; the same desk where his uncle had been found lain, completely immersed into his work until the end. Outside as cracks of light came across the sky, Jack moved his hands across his face to awaken his senses and sign what had to be done for later on that afternoon, nothing else would matter but Rose Dawson; his wife.
At the second, the heavy door swung open and presented a figure which took him a few seconds to actually distinguish within the corridor of the dark office building but after a few blinks; he stepped inside as though it was his own property.
''Mr. Hockley.'' Jack's jaw tightened; his stomach clenched as the light cast across his face played frightening shapes across it.
''Dawson.''
''Take a seat.'' Jack offered, calmly and simply. He walked slowly around his side of the desk as he held out his hand to the leather upholstered chair opposite his own, for Cal.
''No. I want to see her.'' Cal's voice was low but firm. His eyes had darkened, the anger pent up seemed to be steaming out.
Jack clamped his mouth shut, breathing deeply as he collected his thoughts. He wore his usual tuxedo minus his jacket. He eyed up Cal's immaculate appearance and quickly sat at his desk.
''Well, I am afraid to disappoint you."
''Then, where is she?'' Cal demanded, his voice rising. His eyes had darkened, narrowed and they were almost threatening. Jack then realised that Cal would not give this up lightly. This was a time when Jack had no hired help nearby. The only option would be to telephone to a policeman but then he knew just what a can of worms this would open.
''Please, take a seat so that we can discuss this.'' He offered, continuing to approach the situation as though it was a business deal which was about to profit him greatly.
''No.''
Standing from the seat, Jack straightened out his shirt. He sighed; this was going to be more difficult than he had initially thought.
''Well, we still have the stubborn bite.'' His eyes narrowed. ''The last time I saw you, you tried to hurt my wife.''
The words must have stung Cal, but he didn't let on too much, aside from a slight wince. Today would have been the day Rose would have married him. Now, Jack realised, that was the reason that he was here.
''Yes, and if you do not let me see her then your actions from that night will be made known to everybody out here in this city which you call home, where you extend your business.''
Jack laughed at his threat. ''Mr. Hockley, that means nothing to me, nor to my family.''
''Maybe not. But I am sure it would cause a scandal. I hear you people love the gossip.'
Cal laughed as he held out his hand to demonstrate the headlines. ''I think them knowing about your behaviour would ruffle the feathers around here. Or at least satisfy the gossips. They might not believe me, call me a crazy fool but you know as well as I do just how much attention it would bring to you and your wife.''
''Then do it, for it would expose your pitiful behaviour as well. I should hold my hands up high to say that I protected Rose, but you, you were the one who wished to bring harm to her.''
Cal felt the anger bubble in the pit of his stomach. The threats niggled at him; of course, people wouldn't believe the gossip, but Jack knew just how to twist such things and he knew deep down that if Dawson so much as opened his mouth, then the rumour mill would start. He held back his words whilst he thought over just what course of action needed to be taken.
''What's wrong? Are you speechless?''
Cal shook his head. ''No, I need a drink.''
He went to the drinks cabinet as though it was his own and he opened the cabinet door as he pulled out a whiskey bottle before pouring it into one glass. Once it was poured, he held it in his hand, he wanted to sip it but he didn't just yet.
''What do you want, Hockley? Revenge? My business. What?''
Cal shook his head; he poured the full glass of whiskey down his throat. He felt how it burned but it didn't affect him, he needed another before he knew he would have to reveal the full truth. He would need a bottle but he knew that would be foolish.
''I will not reveal that.''
''I am not playing around.'' Jack threatened, he was running out of patience fast. His adrenaline rising once more. He went to the door to leave but Cal shouted his name, calling him back. Jack's hand settled on the doorknob, shaking violently. Cal could see that he would erupt at any given minute and truth be told, he knew just what damage that he could do. Cal sighed, as he knocked back the rest of the liquor.
Jack slowly moved back to his desk. His jaw was tight; this was a deal he never thought he would be making, not with this person in front of him. Anger wasn't an emotion he should be acting on right now. He nodded, knowing what direction he needed to go in. This would seal both of their fates.
''I just want to see her one last time and then, then I will leave you alone. For good.''
Jack glanced at him, apprehensively. ''Why would I even let you anywhere near to her?''
Hockley stood, as quiet and as calm as could be, he stepped closer as though he was approaching a spooked horse. He wanted to make him rage, see just what he had in him but instead he stood behind his cowardly gun. A Colt. The one he had carried aboard the ship. How self-important Hockley believed himself to be.
Spying the Hockley crest upon the weapon, Jack smirked. '' I have to say that although today would have been your wedding day, but you won't be seeing my wife. So, take your threats and your gun to wherever you've hidden for these weeks.''
Hockley said nothing. His dark eyes didn't waver once. He just raised the gun further to Jack's head, stepping closer until the tumbler of whiskey smashed within Cal's hand before clattering to the floor as Jack stood abruptly and sent the gun flying out onto the floor. It was unclear if he had discarded it or shattered it with his own hands but there no was blood about to tell. It startled Jack, and when adrenaline flooded, he stood with a start ready to fight. With no warning, Cal came to Jack, with widened red eyes like a man who had not slept for months on end. There, within in eyes, a spark of fear crossed him. A flash that perhaps another man may not see but Jack was satisfied enough to take a note.
''Move out of the way.''
''No.''
In four strides, Hockley had reached Jack, but as Hockley extended his arms to perhaps clutch onto Jack's lapels there was something cold and metallic against Hockley's ribs, poking through his shirt. It startled him enough to stop in his tracks right there on the wooden floor. Silence flooded the room for a second until it dawned on him. the Colt was pointed to his ribs. Glancing up, he spied Jack's breathing, it was calming and steady. There was no other erratic person within this room but himself. Caledon Hockley. A gun pressed to his ribs.
''Will you listen now that I am the one with your damned weapon?''
Jack backed Hockley away from him, still aiming the Colt, with no intention of using the damned thing. Or even a clue how to. It was wonderful just how a man could have such power just standing behind the weapon. Jack thought on his feet, his mind severely clear despite lack of sleep.
''You will not shoot.''
''Will I not?'' Jack smiled. ''Want to test my theory or will you answer my questions?''
With a tense jaw, Hockley knew that he was cornered. The dark circles of his eyes narrowed, and Jack watched the cogs of his brain turn through a brandy induced haze. Hockley was predictable in one way, a man so limited in knowledge of the world and everything about it. They were wrapped up in cotton wool, seeing the world through rose tinted windows and fancy carriages. What utter nonsense that was. How could one think highly of oneself when they had experienced very little? When they were waited on foot, hand and mouth.
''I will.''
''If all you wish is to see Rose then you can turn about to go now. Your presence here isn't appropriate and neither is any relative or employee of yours.''
''Is that right? You think you're a smart guy.'' Hockley spat out, his mouth tight at the edges and his body swaying from either the adrenaline or the drink.
''No, Mr. Hockley. I don't think anything of myself, I think even less of you but I do love her.''
''And a life on the streets will be good?''
''Who knows. Perhaps freedom will make her happy rather than caged into a world full of horse shit. Full of hypocrisy, misery and fantasy. A life which entails caring what others think of you, more than you think of your own wife, your own family or friends. Feelings mean nothing, only the way others treat you. How rich or how poor. How beautiful they look. Value of house, of vehicles...'' Jack laughed, taking a long exhale. ''It's pathetic go.''
''So now you intend to shoot me? Right here in the middle of your study?'' A knowing smile crossed Hockley's lips; one which seemed to be of complete satisfaction. ''How would you explain that?''
''How would you have explained it, huh? Or would you not have used it?''
Hockley's silence was golden.
''I wouldn't waste the bullet. Not on you.'' Jack lingered for a moment; his hand as steady as ever. ''I have shot horses out of kindness back home on the farm, to put them out of their misery, but I would never be kind enough to do that to you.'' In his mind, he searched for an urge to kill. An urge to end the man's life. There was none. With Rose, there had been a peace he had found within her that one never knew would even exist. The urge to break his jaw, and maybe a couple of ribs, however, that was more than appealing.
''I suspected.''
That was a threat, Jack noted. The gun would not be loaded or perhaps he hadn't pulled the trigger far enough to release the bullet.
Hockley's reputation was already in tatters. His life spread all across the newspapers of the land and yet, he felt the need to come out of hiding to finish off the finish of something and suddenly his hand came to Jack's neck to squeeze it there. The hatred glowed arraying from the pure evil of Hockley's eyes to the clasp upon his neck. Jack wanted to fight but now wasn't the right time to act. He had nothing but his own will. His own instinct of which he had lived with since his days as a young boy.
''You-you seem to think that killing me will save your honour?'' Jack spluttered.
''It will help me immensely.''
He laughed but it came out as a splutter.
''Go ahead then. Do what you wish with me. Finish me off.''
The latter was a taunt. A taunt which he knew couldn't be followed through for all along. He was there to scare, to squander and to help. Not to kill. He wasn't a man with the ability to end a life just like that. He had proved so now. Jack had the man right within the palm of his hands.
''Cowardly bastard.''
As the large wooden door opened, a flourish of tapestry came into sight followed by the red of her hair.
Rose.
Damn her to find them.
Gone was Jack's reverie of thought...the train which was ensuring all his instincts were indeed correct.
Now, Jack just needed to get rid of him.
''No!'' Rose screamed. ''Let him go, please.'' She pleaded as she attempted to pull Hockley away from Jack but he simply lifted his hand, catching her left cheek and sending her tumbling unexpectedly backwards. She fell back against the desk, struggling to find her balance. Her eyes glanced about to find something to aid her next attack but there was nothing. Jack was red, lifeless or so it appeared.
Until something in him seemed to flip. Laying hands upon his wife was the red which Jack saw. A knee in the stomach was all it had taken for Hockley to be sent flying back and tumble over the desk to the floor just beside Rose, who shifted aside quickly, pulling her light travelling day dress with her.
''You can fight with me, toy with me, but you do not lay your hands on my wife.'' Jack took her hand in his, pulling her to his hard and still body. She felt safer there.
Hockley steadily found his feet, his breathing ragged. The silken and velvet suite of which he wore was torn in various places.
Rose pressed herself against Jack so tightly, he felt her shudders but he wouldn't allow her to feel the fear any longer. The anger inside of him had boiled over way too much. Hockley reached forward to retrieve the gun which Jack had taken from his grip and thrown on the floor out of the way. He aimed to go for it but Jack lunged forward knocking it from his grip and the smug look was soon wiped away from his face. Rose screamed as her husband was hit; laced into. It was almost slowly happening before her eyes.
Jack felt the blood trickle from his nose from the punch. There wasn't much hatred behind that. Wiping the stain away, he smiled. This wasn't a fight worth having. Again; he lunged for Hockley knocking him into the table and throwing him over it in one swift move. The grace and fluid of his movements were a reminder that this was for Rose. This was the battlefield for him. Rose watched with wide eyes as she watched her husband in a way she had never seen before. He was cat-like, in another state of mind as though he had flicked a switch to ensure he felt nothing. His hand came up, holding Hockley by the throat against the wall with his throat and he could only move his eyes. He knew what it felt like. This was exactly what he had done to him. The revenge could be served here; Jack Dawson could kill him. Was it worth the effort?
Instead, he lifted his foot kicking in the stomach and winding him sending him flying backwards against the wall knocking the large gold mirror from the wall and it smashed over his shoulders and cutting his arms as it fell. Jack could taste the blood but he wouldn't give up yet. He would fight until the very end. Hockley lay out, blood covering his face and his suit, running downwards onto the carpet onto the expensive furnishings which were now meaningless.
Hockley found his gun there on the floor and shakily he got to his feet and this time he aimed it at Rose. She was the one he wanted, after all. She was the cause of all of this. Her. The root cause of all of these problems.
''It is all because of you.''
Rose knitted her brows together.
''The cock teasing adolescent who couldn't take the right man to the alter.''
''I chose right.'' She fired back.
He turned to Jack who he knew was behind him. A snigger came but it didn't last long.
''There is no use in prolonging this.'' Jack stood cool, square and soft. Like a pan of water at boiling point. Rose stood at the side of Jack, almost united, like one. The girl showed no fear, not when she was beside the man, she had the belly flutters for. He wanted to laugh at them with pity but he knew not to show any form of emotion to the pair of them. This would have been their day. The day which she would belong to him; forever.
Now, Caledon Hockley stood alone. Truly alone. Once he had been a part of a family greater than God.
He wanted that still. He had worked for that status.
Jack stroked his fingers over Rose's hand, Hockley watched it, back and forth, back and forth, in a slow rhythm and by the look of Rose's breathing, Jack was bringing her comfort. There would be no comfort for him. It was laughable but he didn't find it funny one little bit. Then out of nowhere, he was pushed over the edge. His body stiffened as he ran to Jack, about to break him apart from Rose. To see them together was infuriating; the damned caused of this entire scandal.
Jack whispered something to her then, and she caught it as though he had said it to her loud and clear. ''I love you.''
Rose felt her stomach drop, as though she was floating in mid-air. She didn't dare look up. Jack's widened eyes answered her unasked question and then the truth were revealed as they heard the gun go off. Not once. But twice.
Rose screamed, her body shaking. She felt as though she had been hit by a horse at full speed, thrust mid-air into something she couldn't control. Jack's hard body seemed to relax as his hands came up about her shoulders in a small comfort. His fingers were torn apart, his face and hair splattered with the blood which he had shed once more; all for her.
Rose was never meant to witness this but the truth was, it was never going to be less than gruesome. Behind Hockley's smoking Colt, he sank downwards and then became a heap. Rose blinked completely unaware until she turned to see Charlie Thompson in the open doorway with a shotgun and a stunned face. Turning, she felt how her own arm was dragged down to the floor along with her body and— Jack's.
''Jack-'' she cried, pushing her face into his neck and breathing him in.
''It is over.'' He whispered quietly, as he seemed to shudder. ''That is all you need to remember.''
Rose placed her hands over her face. She shook her head. ''That-that-" She managed, her entire body succumbing to the shudders of shock with him. "That could have been you."
"I-I" Jack tried to say something but Rose almost crushed him.
''Did he get you?''
''I anticipated this to happen.'' He grasped both of her hands in his. She was in so much shock, she struggled to face him. He shook her hands in an attempt to rid her of the deep surprised state.
''You were not meant to see the extent of this, my darling but just remember, remember us.''
She nodded. ''Yes.''
''We knew that he would come for us.''
''Y-yess,'' she stammered. ''But-you'll, you'll be all right.''
Charlie came to press a shirt to Jack's stomach, where for the first time, Rose saw was completely soaked through red. She wanted to scream. To punch. To lash. But there was nothing. Her husband had been shot by Cal. Rose blinked through unshed tears as she glanced about the study. It was once a fully upholstered, enchanting room littered with the collections of Jack's life, his business. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.
''This was our freedom.''
There were no cold shivers. His stomach was settled. Easy. The damage was already done and this had been the final battle of victory. Justice was finally served. For Rose.
His wife.
Rose Dawson. The woman who he had dared to tease after a chance meeting. The one he had been unable to remain away from. The woman who challenged him, changed him and enabled him to feel love and to be loved in return for the first time in a lonely, young man's life.
''Freedom,'' she repeated, clinging to that word.
''Yes.''
Jack grasped onto Rose's hands, stroking her face and he kissed her forehead just once. Her eyes closed, inhaling his scent and she was taking back to the first night back aboard a ship which laid beneath the coldest waters. The evening which had changed the course of her life.
Forever.
''This isn't the end for us.''
Her eyes remained closed as she repeated his words, remembering them, ''the end.''
''Promise me, that you will go on.''
''You'll be with me, you'll see.''
Charlie pressed onto his stomach as hard as he could.
''Go find some help!''
Charlie nodded, dazed. ''I will be back, my friend.''
Rose watched as he went to the door and pressed the wound but Jack winced, his breathing coming and going in patches.
''Jack, you cannot go, not now. We have-we have to go to Santa Monica, remember that pier and I don't know where I could possibly go without you, so lets keep your focus until-'' Rose realised that she was talking. Too fast. His face was pale. His eyes struggling to focus and then, it hit her like a train full force. Loosening her grip on his wound, she pressed her mouth to his cheek, with his head resting upon her knees she smothered his face with her lips.
''I-I wish-''
''Don't wish.'' Rose pressed her finger to his lips. ''Wish nothing. Change nothing.''
He tried to say more but she just kissed him. Felt his breathing; the rise and the fall and how it fell shallower. How his chest struggled. All the while, she held onto the man who she had fallen in love with as what was left of his soul slowly left his body.
''I-I-''
''Stop, shh. Charlie will be back soon.''
''No-'' Jack winced, his voice a whisper. A single tear fell from his right eye, trickling down onto Rose's lap and soaking into her dress. It was that which caused the most painful curl to hit her stomach as realisation came. Dawned. Slowly crept to her body. Jack was dying.
''L-live on.'' He urged, his fingers barely squeezing hers.
''But I cannot. Without you.''
A smile came, knowingly but fading off. ''Yes you can.''
''Don't leave me. Not now.''
''I never—never will.'' He was struggling. His voice faded off.
''God, I love you.'' She pressed her tear soaked lips to his, almost taking his last breathe as she went but he managed one more to whisper in return.
''I love you.''
And then, in a staggered way, he drew his last rise and fall. His eyes looking into hers until the very last.
Rose Dawson recalled no more after that.
Epilogue:
February 14th 1914.
Dear Charlie,
It has taken me too long to write, and for that I am truly sorry. Upon leaving Boston, I had discovered to be carrying a child. The baby was born a year ago today and I have named him Jack, for his father.
Having lost my mother and my husband in just a matter of days, I needed time to heal before I wrote this letter to you.
Jack is very tall, with blonde hair and blue eyes. A smaller version of his father, and I am very gifted to be his mother.
As Jack's widow, I received a letter of condolences from the senator and was reassured that Jack was to have been honoured with a gold medal for his bravery. The medal, as I instructed, was to be sent to you for safe keeping.
I have settled in a place in Ojai. The weather is warm and the sun sets late and rises early. I need to feel that to heal my heart, to raise my son and to be strong enough to return to Boston someday to visit you. The truth is that knowing a man for just three weeks was a lifetime for me, and to know that I was loved. That Jack was loved and our son is cherished. Jack gave me clarity. The clarity which I had needed for so long. He gave me life. Freedom. And a child.
I now here that war will be coming soon to Europe. Between England and Germany. Would America be involved? Another thing to worry us all. Will there ever be any peace in this world? I have to hope that there is. I just have to.
Love,
Rose Dawson.