Rose Dawson's heels clicked against the stone pathways of the ancient city
as she walked back home. She stayed too long again today. Profesore
Angeluzzi had most definitely gone home by now and Fabrizio would be
worried. Dusk had settled in.
Rose knew where on the corner to stop on her favorite type of stone. It was the marker that told sailors how to get to brothels, in case they couldn't read the signs in Latin. It was shaped like the male organ. Even as an intellectual and grown women she still had to giggle. She wished people nowadays were a little more like the Ancient Romans–at least in some respects.
She wanted to get back to Fabrizio early that night so he would not be too tired. Looking at the "arrow" on the rock she thought of something to do that night, she smiled devilishly. It had been a week, but she had been busy. It would be a nice treat for them both after a long week.
Then Rose sighed. They were so sad, she and Fabrizio. They were so in love and yet so sad. Titanic had never left them, and she always wondered if Fabri was jealous of Jack. She did think about him sometimes but not as a habit. Some part of her still loved Jack and always would. Couldn't be helped. But Fabri was her life now and she loved him and would marry him and have his children and one day they would be so happy.
One of the many stray dogs that inhabited the city eagerly approached her. Since she first began doing excavation work in the ruins she and Principessa, the sandy, smiling mut had become immediate friends.
"Buona sera, signorina," she said, patting the dog's head. Principessa enthusiastically brushed her head into Rose's hand. "Time to go, my love," Rose reminded her. Prinicpessa whined. "Ah, such an overgrown puppy." The canine whimpered as her friend walked up the uneven stone streets to go home. Rose turned around and winked at the dog.
Rose sang to herself as she was accustomed to do when she was all alone. She loved especially to be alone in the ruins. So quiet despite the horror of 2,000 years ago–the liquid fire bursting and consuming everything. But sometimes she could feel it in the air, like she had been there, like she had felt the heat or heard the wailing in the streets. Maybe that's why she loved it. Rose had been on the horror of Titanic. Just like Pompeii with the whole world ending all around, only Titanic, for better or for worse, had survivors, she and Fabrizio included. Rose, like Pompeii, was quiet and calm now, save for occasional nightmares and passion throws with her fiancé, her body was all by still in her everyday life.
"All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep, saying 'where shall we shelter or where shall we sleep?' For the oak and the ash, they are all cutten down and the walls of Bonny Portmore are all down to the ground..." She loved that old Irish folk song for reasons she never knew.
She always wondered if she'd had a bit of the Celt in her, not just for her fire hair. She was born in Scotland prematurely while her parents were touring the British Isles, it was the only bit of scandal her mother and father ever suffered during their taintless lives, save for her father's gambling debts and his untimely death, falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. But that was all during the last year of her father's life.
"O Bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree..." she slung her knapsack over her shoulder and walked back home to her anxious fiancé.
***
"Fabrizio!" Rose scurried up the stairs to her to see her fiancé. "I'm home!" She found him sitting in the arm chair in their bedroom, staring at the city and the dormant volcano out their window.
"Buona sera, tesoro," she smiled and kissed him full on the mouth. He wasn't as reactive as she had hoped. He either responded passionately or nervously; he was much more conservative than she. Fabri could be quite traditional at times. Rose was always trying to break him with her liberal ideas. She had succeeded to a point, luring him into bed–succumbing to one's libido was better for your mental health, she would say. And moving in with him before they were married. Scandalous! "We'll starve if we can't split a rent!" Rose would argue, when she was practical she was forcefully so. It was hard on that level as well. Fabri was a Catholic. Rose cursed God on a daily basis. But damn it all, they were in love. What else was life about?
"Something wrong?" she asked. "You look like you haven't moved all day."
"Not all day," he said, "just all night." He twirled his cane. "God, I hate this damn thing!" He huffed, trying to keep his mind from one bad thing to another.
"Don't start that again. You can still walk, you're still a young man!"
"I don't feel like one. I'm lame, remember? I can't do anything like I used. I want to run again, not hobble like an idiot. How am I supposed to walk in our wedding?"
"What's the matter? Something happened today, didn't it? You looked like you just saw a ghost."
Fabri got up, supported by his fiancee. She wrapped her arms around him from the back as the gazed out their window. She kissed his shoulder and pressed her cheek to his back.
"Tell me what happened today. I know you too well, you won't escape me," she said gently as she clasped her hands over his, caressing his fingers. "There's nothing you can't tell me, darling man. I'll always listen."
"We had a visitor..."
"The rent isn't overdue. We payed it on time and on full."
"It wasn't the landlord."
"Who was it then? You're beginning to worry me."
"Do you want to sit down?"
"No, I'm fine here." Stubborn woman. Perhaps it was for the best. Fabrizio felt better saying it not facing her.
"Jack Dawson." There was a pause, then Rose abruptly pulled away.
"What?" she said in disbelief. "He's dead..."
"No, he's alive and he came by today. He found us."
"No, it can't be. Fabri, I saw him *die.*" She said, swallowing hard at the memory, they hadn't spoken about Titanic or Jack Dawson in over a year. And the nearer their wedding drew the more taboo the slightest reference became.
"You must believe me," he grabbed her hands, "if you love me you will believe me. He's alive. He's been living in Washington for the past four years with Tommy Ryan."
"Oh, my God..." Rose sat in a chair. Fabrizio felt very, very awkward.
"We should be happy, our friend is alive...I know it's strange."
"Don't do that to yourself. I love you," she said, looking directly at him.
"You don't need to remind me, just take everything in now, and talk about it later."
Rose frowned she didn't like being given orders even if he was looking out for their best interest.
***
Rose didn't sleep that night. Neither did Fabrizio and she knew it. They didn't say a word to each other after that or share their usual goodnight kiss. But she never turned to him in that sleepless night, though she knew he was right there. All she had to do was reach out for him, the man she loved and she would have safe haven. But tonight she felt more alone than ever.
As it was before, she and Fabrizio were together in their misery. Now that Jack Dawson had decided to waltz in and then right out of their lives the were alone again, even in the same bed, even in their impending marriage.
Rose knew Jack wasn't coming back. Perhaps, she thought he owed more to Fabrizio then he did to her. But she used his name, didn't she? Wouldn't he want to see her? She wondered what would have become of her if she hadn't been separated from Jack. But he *died!* She watched him disappear below the surface. Did the hypothermia make her delusional? Certainly she knew the difference a dead man and a live one! She must be going crazy. And why did she feel so angry that he left without seeing her? She felt betrayed. Of course, she would still feel emotion at what happened, but they had been living separate lives for years and she would love and marry Fabri. That was the end of it. Her heart beat faster and she sweat all over. It started with an ache in her chest that moved all over her body and took her mercilessly hostage. She must be going crazy. It was fine to care for Jack, but not to love him above her fiancé. Her stopped as she mouthed the word "fiancé." It wasn't like the same scenario hadn't happened before. But Fabrizio was different than Cal. Fabri deserved everything she could give him. And now she was still in love with Jack, she was now forced to admit. She loved the idea that danced in and out of her life more than the man that slept beside her. She hated Fabrizio for being jealous where he right should be. She hated Jack for taking away what she loved most about the life he had given her. But she hated herself above all.
She felt a certain jealously toward Jack as Fabrizio had all through their love affair. With Jack in the picture, Fabri was not the only man Rose loved. And with Jack in the picture, Rose was not Fabrizio's only best friend. From the gist Rose got Jack's best confidant was Tommy Ryan, so perhaps Fabri was doubly jealous.
A though occured to Rose that night that she tried in all her earnest to forget. Her friendship with Fabrizio had started in comfort and support, and had blossomed through complimenting personalities and mutual respect. But their passion... It was borne of mutual grief. They both knew such an intense and wild grief that no one else could match. Their love was grief.
The next morning she and Fabri continued their silence until after they had separately washed.
"He looked pretty healthy. A little stronger in the body than he was as a teenager," Fabrizio commented. He didn't need to say who this "he" was.
"Don't start," Rose said coldly.
"Why not? It's the only that could have ever come between us."
"You said it was the greatest friendship of your life," Rose reminded, half smiling, voice shaking, "don't let sharing a woman come between that memory."
"He was my greatest friend...until I met you."
"Come over here and hold me."
"Are you angry he didn't see you?" Fabri asked, not moving.
"Yes, but I'll get over because I'm not going to spend my life with *him.*"
"It didn't stop you last time."
"Don't you dare!" Rose flared, "you know it's much different! Don't you dare say that! Don't you dare if our love matters to you! Don't compare it with anything! Especially *that!*"
"I want to hold you now, please, I couldn't take a fight right now." He held out his arms. Rose hesitated for longer than Fabrizio would have hoped. She awkwardly went into his arms. She came but he still felt rejected.
"I'm so sorry!" she cried. He led her onto the bed so two of them could lie down together.
"Oh, I love you," he held her tighter.
"I love you, too."
Rose buried her nose into his neck, letting her warm breath flow onto his neck. He needed to shave, she thought sweetly. Something about his neck, slightly unshaven, made her wild. Now it was all that calmed her. He mumbled to himself as she pulled her closer. He loved it when she pushed her nose into the nape of his neck. God, he just loved it. Nothing could comfort him more than knowing she was so close.
"Can we stay here all day?"
"You promised Profesore Angeluzzi you'd you go down and catalog those new finds on site," Fabrizio winced, betraying information he'd have rather forgotten. He wished he had forgotten Jack was immortal. He would never tell Rose. Never.
"I know. But I didn't promise him I wouldn't be late."
"You are the devil sometimes, Rosa."
"Yes, and the sinner can only benefit."
"You know he will be on our minds for a little while," he interrupted the new flow.
"I know. We'll survive it...like everything else." She lied a little, she wasn't sure who she loved more now. She hated herself for even considering it. "One day we'll be happy," she said, "one day we'll be so happy. One day we'll be so happy it will hurt and we won't know what to do about it. One we'll be so happy I promise." She closed her eyes and eventually found sleep.
***
It had been a week since Jack had come. Rose couldn't even get her satisfaction. She had never even seen him. That one day holding each other in bed was the only a temporary salvation for her and Fabrizio. Maybe it was only natural to feel hurt her former lover had not come to see her. Why wouldn't he see her? Well, he didn't tell her he loved her back, Rose mused bitterly at the memory.
Again, Rose had hid out in Pompeii as the day came to a close, pretending to be engrossed in her notebook so she could wander the ruined city by herself. She had been working there for two years, she needed to get over the childish fascination. It had been over four years since Jack and she'd just proven she couldn't get over that. Besides the fact that she'd also proven herself crazy by mistaking his sleeping body for a corpse! *But he didn't wake up!*
At that moment she was holding a flashlight over her notebook in one the rooms in the brothel. She could barely see she was so tired. She turned her attention from writing to her the paintings on the wall.
Once the depictions of sexual acts she'd been seeing for years bored her, she reached into her knapsack and pulled out the diamond necklace she'd been hiding for years. Just as she hid her love for her ghost, she hid the Heart of the Ocean. She trusted Fabrizio, she just didn't want him to know she still had it. But she would look at him all that week and there was something she couldn't pinpoint but she got the distinct feeling Fabri knew something she didn't. And it was about Jack. What was he, married? A hit man? What?
She shone the light on the diamond watching it shine and sparkle. It was so beautiful, so mocking. So mocking as if it really belonged to Cal and preferred his pocket to hers. As if she didn't have the right–to Cal's pocket money that she spent supporting herself and her future husband–the new one and educating herself. It really belonged, legally, to the Hockleys and it was no petty trinket at that. But she had it for longer; it meant more to her.
She thought if she could squeeze it hard enough she could make her hand bleed. Rose wanted to dash it against the hard walls of the ancient brothel on the Latin graffiti and sex paintings. She wanted to see it shatter into many pieces, burst and die. But diamonds are forever. She would wither and fade and die. And the Heart of the Ocean would remain unchanged. It was constant and forever. Rose, the person that lived and felt and thought and loved, was fleeting. It wasn't fair.
She put the diamond back in her bag along with her notebook. Fabrizio was here tonight. He wasn't in Pompeii as regularly as she. He had a hard time managing the cumbersome streets and buildings with his limp and his cane. He resented what Titanic had done to him. He was so ashamed of his lameness. He used to be so strong.
Rose only felt at home in two places: with Fabrizio and in the ruins of Pompeii. Her particular favorite place was the brothel. She couldn't tell why. Perhaps it was the irony that she'd cosy up by herself to do academic work on a bed that saw so many bare Romans. It also saw molten lava swallowing it. She wondered morbidly if anyone died in there while "working." They must have.
She decided she was cold and wanted Fabrizio so she left the little brothel room, and then the empty brothel completely, walking on the road. It was dark now. What time was it? Eight?
Rose stopped when she heard footsteps. They weren't awkward or accompanied by a cane. Couldn't be her man.
"Profesore?" she called no answer. "Gino? Vito?" she called for her colleagues. No answer.
"Alo? Fabrizio!" She was instinctually nervous now. She ran into a house looking around, something was very wrong. She ran through the house and into the enclose yard. No one.
She turned and ran down the streets calling out. Something was making her panic. And it was something she couldn't explain. But she'd *heard* somebody. Yes, just like she saw Jack Dawson die.
As she passed the temple she saw strangers. Looters. Robbers. God damn it. She hid inside the temple until their voices faded, she crept through the city desperately looking for her friends, especially Fabrizio.
Then heard Fabrizio's yelling, angry and panicked. Up the road, she saw his figure, lurching forward and propped on his cane in such a way that his right arm was completely straight and pressed directly to his side. He moved forward, dragging his bum leg like dead weight.
"Bastardo!"
She saw the new men, four of them and her heart started beating wildly, praying they would just steal and go. She was about thirty yards down the road from them.
"Fabrizio!" she called out to him.
He turned around just to see her one last time before the deafening sounds of bullets ripped through the air and through Fabrizio De Rossi's limp body.
Rose released a primal scream and ran toward him in a frenzy. A second round of bullets came at the just the right time to bring Rose down on top of Fabrizio.
After one anguished howl, dropping to her knees, she lay silently with her cheek resting on the back of his shoulder. And then the night was silent in Pompeii save for the scrambling heals of a few faceless men.
Rose knew where on the corner to stop on her favorite type of stone. It was the marker that told sailors how to get to brothels, in case they couldn't read the signs in Latin. It was shaped like the male organ. Even as an intellectual and grown women she still had to giggle. She wished people nowadays were a little more like the Ancient Romans–at least in some respects.
She wanted to get back to Fabrizio early that night so he would not be too tired. Looking at the "arrow" on the rock she thought of something to do that night, she smiled devilishly. It had been a week, but she had been busy. It would be a nice treat for them both after a long week.
Then Rose sighed. They were so sad, she and Fabrizio. They were so in love and yet so sad. Titanic had never left them, and she always wondered if Fabri was jealous of Jack. She did think about him sometimes but not as a habit. Some part of her still loved Jack and always would. Couldn't be helped. But Fabri was her life now and she loved him and would marry him and have his children and one day they would be so happy.
One of the many stray dogs that inhabited the city eagerly approached her. Since she first began doing excavation work in the ruins she and Principessa, the sandy, smiling mut had become immediate friends.
"Buona sera, signorina," she said, patting the dog's head. Principessa enthusiastically brushed her head into Rose's hand. "Time to go, my love," Rose reminded her. Prinicpessa whined. "Ah, such an overgrown puppy." The canine whimpered as her friend walked up the uneven stone streets to go home. Rose turned around and winked at the dog.
Rose sang to herself as she was accustomed to do when she was all alone. She loved especially to be alone in the ruins. So quiet despite the horror of 2,000 years ago–the liquid fire bursting and consuming everything. But sometimes she could feel it in the air, like she had been there, like she had felt the heat or heard the wailing in the streets. Maybe that's why she loved it. Rose had been on the horror of Titanic. Just like Pompeii with the whole world ending all around, only Titanic, for better or for worse, had survivors, she and Fabrizio included. Rose, like Pompeii, was quiet and calm now, save for occasional nightmares and passion throws with her fiancé, her body was all by still in her everyday life.
"All the birds in the forest they bitterly weep, saying 'where shall we shelter or where shall we sleep?' For the oak and the ash, they are all cutten down and the walls of Bonny Portmore are all down to the ground..." She loved that old Irish folk song for reasons she never knew.
She always wondered if she'd had a bit of the Celt in her, not just for her fire hair. She was born in Scotland prematurely while her parents were touring the British Isles, it was the only bit of scandal her mother and father ever suffered during their taintless lives, save for her father's gambling debts and his untimely death, falling down the stairs and breaking his neck. But that was all during the last year of her father's life.
"O Bonny Portmore, I am sorry to see such a woeful destruction of your ornament tree..." she slung her knapsack over her shoulder and walked back home to her anxious fiancé.
***
"Fabrizio!" Rose scurried up the stairs to her to see her fiancé. "I'm home!" She found him sitting in the arm chair in their bedroom, staring at the city and the dormant volcano out their window.
"Buona sera, tesoro," she smiled and kissed him full on the mouth. He wasn't as reactive as she had hoped. He either responded passionately or nervously; he was much more conservative than she. Fabri could be quite traditional at times. Rose was always trying to break him with her liberal ideas. She had succeeded to a point, luring him into bed–succumbing to one's libido was better for your mental health, she would say. And moving in with him before they were married. Scandalous! "We'll starve if we can't split a rent!" Rose would argue, when she was practical she was forcefully so. It was hard on that level as well. Fabri was a Catholic. Rose cursed God on a daily basis. But damn it all, they were in love. What else was life about?
"Something wrong?" she asked. "You look like you haven't moved all day."
"Not all day," he said, "just all night." He twirled his cane. "God, I hate this damn thing!" He huffed, trying to keep his mind from one bad thing to another.
"Don't start that again. You can still walk, you're still a young man!"
"I don't feel like one. I'm lame, remember? I can't do anything like I used. I want to run again, not hobble like an idiot. How am I supposed to walk in our wedding?"
"What's the matter? Something happened today, didn't it? You looked like you just saw a ghost."
Fabri got up, supported by his fiancee. She wrapped her arms around him from the back as the gazed out their window. She kissed his shoulder and pressed her cheek to his back.
"Tell me what happened today. I know you too well, you won't escape me," she said gently as she clasped her hands over his, caressing his fingers. "There's nothing you can't tell me, darling man. I'll always listen."
"We had a visitor..."
"The rent isn't overdue. We payed it on time and on full."
"It wasn't the landlord."
"Who was it then? You're beginning to worry me."
"Do you want to sit down?"
"No, I'm fine here." Stubborn woman. Perhaps it was for the best. Fabrizio felt better saying it not facing her.
"Jack Dawson." There was a pause, then Rose abruptly pulled away.
"What?" she said in disbelief. "He's dead..."
"No, he's alive and he came by today. He found us."
"No, it can't be. Fabri, I saw him *die.*" She said, swallowing hard at the memory, they hadn't spoken about Titanic or Jack Dawson in over a year. And the nearer their wedding drew the more taboo the slightest reference became.
"You must believe me," he grabbed her hands, "if you love me you will believe me. He's alive. He's been living in Washington for the past four years with Tommy Ryan."
"Oh, my God..." Rose sat in a chair. Fabrizio felt very, very awkward.
"We should be happy, our friend is alive...I know it's strange."
"Don't do that to yourself. I love you," she said, looking directly at him.
"You don't need to remind me, just take everything in now, and talk about it later."
Rose frowned she didn't like being given orders even if he was looking out for their best interest.
***
Rose didn't sleep that night. Neither did Fabrizio and she knew it. They didn't say a word to each other after that or share their usual goodnight kiss. But she never turned to him in that sleepless night, though she knew he was right there. All she had to do was reach out for him, the man she loved and she would have safe haven. But tonight she felt more alone than ever.
As it was before, she and Fabrizio were together in their misery. Now that Jack Dawson had decided to waltz in and then right out of their lives the were alone again, even in the same bed, even in their impending marriage.
Rose knew Jack wasn't coming back. Perhaps, she thought he owed more to Fabrizio then he did to her. But she used his name, didn't she? Wouldn't he want to see her? She wondered what would have become of her if she hadn't been separated from Jack. But he *died!* She watched him disappear below the surface. Did the hypothermia make her delusional? Certainly she knew the difference a dead man and a live one! She must be going crazy. And why did she feel so angry that he left without seeing her? She felt betrayed. Of course, she would still feel emotion at what happened, but they had been living separate lives for years and she would love and marry Fabri. That was the end of it. Her heart beat faster and she sweat all over. It started with an ache in her chest that moved all over her body and took her mercilessly hostage. She must be going crazy. It was fine to care for Jack, but not to love him above her fiancé. Her stopped as she mouthed the word "fiancé." It wasn't like the same scenario hadn't happened before. But Fabrizio was different than Cal. Fabri deserved everything she could give him. And now she was still in love with Jack, she was now forced to admit. She loved the idea that danced in and out of her life more than the man that slept beside her. She hated Fabrizio for being jealous where he right should be. She hated Jack for taking away what she loved most about the life he had given her. But she hated herself above all.
She felt a certain jealously toward Jack as Fabrizio had all through their love affair. With Jack in the picture, Fabri was not the only man Rose loved. And with Jack in the picture, Rose was not Fabrizio's only best friend. From the gist Rose got Jack's best confidant was Tommy Ryan, so perhaps Fabri was doubly jealous.
A though occured to Rose that night that she tried in all her earnest to forget. Her friendship with Fabrizio had started in comfort and support, and had blossomed through complimenting personalities and mutual respect. But their passion... It was borne of mutual grief. They both knew such an intense and wild grief that no one else could match. Their love was grief.
The next morning she and Fabri continued their silence until after they had separately washed.
"He looked pretty healthy. A little stronger in the body than he was as a teenager," Fabrizio commented. He didn't need to say who this "he" was.
"Don't start," Rose said coldly.
"Why not? It's the only that could have ever come between us."
"You said it was the greatest friendship of your life," Rose reminded, half smiling, voice shaking, "don't let sharing a woman come between that memory."
"He was my greatest friend...until I met you."
"Come over here and hold me."
"Are you angry he didn't see you?" Fabri asked, not moving.
"Yes, but I'll get over because I'm not going to spend my life with *him.*"
"It didn't stop you last time."
"Don't you dare!" Rose flared, "you know it's much different! Don't you dare say that! Don't you dare if our love matters to you! Don't compare it with anything! Especially *that!*"
"I want to hold you now, please, I couldn't take a fight right now." He held out his arms. Rose hesitated for longer than Fabrizio would have hoped. She awkwardly went into his arms. She came but he still felt rejected.
"I'm so sorry!" she cried. He led her onto the bed so two of them could lie down together.
"Oh, I love you," he held her tighter.
"I love you, too."
Rose buried her nose into his neck, letting her warm breath flow onto his neck. He needed to shave, she thought sweetly. Something about his neck, slightly unshaven, made her wild. Now it was all that calmed her. He mumbled to himself as she pulled her closer. He loved it when she pushed her nose into the nape of his neck. God, he just loved it. Nothing could comfort him more than knowing she was so close.
"Can we stay here all day?"
"You promised Profesore Angeluzzi you'd you go down and catalog those new finds on site," Fabrizio winced, betraying information he'd have rather forgotten. He wished he had forgotten Jack was immortal. He would never tell Rose. Never.
"I know. But I didn't promise him I wouldn't be late."
"You are the devil sometimes, Rosa."
"Yes, and the sinner can only benefit."
"You know he will be on our minds for a little while," he interrupted the new flow.
"I know. We'll survive it...like everything else." She lied a little, she wasn't sure who she loved more now. She hated herself for even considering it. "One day we'll be happy," she said, "one day we'll be so happy. One day we'll be so happy it will hurt and we won't know what to do about it. One we'll be so happy I promise." She closed her eyes and eventually found sleep.
***
It had been a week since Jack had come. Rose couldn't even get her satisfaction. She had never even seen him. That one day holding each other in bed was the only a temporary salvation for her and Fabrizio. Maybe it was only natural to feel hurt her former lover had not come to see her. Why wouldn't he see her? Well, he didn't tell her he loved her back, Rose mused bitterly at the memory.
Again, Rose had hid out in Pompeii as the day came to a close, pretending to be engrossed in her notebook so she could wander the ruined city by herself. She had been working there for two years, she needed to get over the childish fascination. It had been over four years since Jack and she'd just proven she couldn't get over that. Besides the fact that she'd also proven herself crazy by mistaking his sleeping body for a corpse! *But he didn't wake up!*
At that moment she was holding a flashlight over her notebook in one the rooms in the brothel. She could barely see she was so tired. She turned her attention from writing to her the paintings on the wall.
Once the depictions of sexual acts she'd been seeing for years bored her, she reached into her knapsack and pulled out the diamond necklace she'd been hiding for years. Just as she hid her love for her ghost, she hid the Heart of the Ocean. She trusted Fabrizio, she just didn't want him to know she still had it. But she would look at him all that week and there was something she couldn't pinpoint but she got the distinct feeling Fabri knew something she didn't. And it was about Jack. What was he, married? A hit man? What?
She shone the light on the diamond watching it shine and sparkle. It was so beautiful, so mocking. So mocking as if it really belonged to Cal and preferred his pocket to hers. As if she didn't have the right–to Cal's pocket money that she spent supporting herself and her future husband–the new one and educating herself. It really belonged, legally, to the Hockleys and it was no petty trinket at that. But she had it for longer; it meant more to her.
She thought if she could squeeze it hard enough she could make her hand bleed. Rose wanted to dash it against the hard walls of the ancient brothel on the Latin graffiti and sex paintings. She wanted to see it shatter into many pieces, burst and die. But diamonds are forever. She would wither and fade and die. And the Heart of the Ocean would remain unchanged. It was constant and forever. Rose, the person that lived and felt and thought and loved, was fleeting. It wasn't fair.
She put the diamond back in her bag along with her notebook. Fabrizio was here tonight. He wasn't in Pompeii as regularly as she. He had a hard time managing the cumbersome streets and buildings with his limp and his cane. He resented what Titanic had done to him. He was so ashamed of his lameness. He used to be so strong.
Rose only felt at home in two places: with Fabrizio and in the ruins of Pompeii. Her particular favorite place was the brothel. She couldn't tell why. Perhaps it was the irony that she'd cosy up by herself to do academic work on a bed that saw so many bare Romans. It also saw molten lava swallowing it. She wondered morbidly if anyone died in there while "working." They must have.
She decided she was cold and wanted Fabrizio so she left the little brothel room, and then the empty brothel completely, walking on the road. It was dark now. What time was it? Eight?
Rose stopped when she heard footsteps. They weren't awkward or accompanied by a cane. Couldn't be her man.
"Profesore?" she called no answer. "Gino? Vito?" she called for her colleagues. No answer.
"Alo? Fabrizio!" She was instinctually nervous now. She ran into a house looking around, something was very wrong. She ran through the house and into the enclose yard. No one.
She turned and ran down the streets calling out. Something was making her panic. And it was something she couldn't explain. But she'd *heard* somebody. Yes, just like she saw Jack Dawson die.
As she passed the temple she saw strangers. Looters. Robbers. God damn it. She hid inside the temple until their voices faded, she crept through the city desperately looking for her friends, especially Fabrizio.
Then heard Fabrizio's yelling, angry and panicked. Up the road, she saw his figure, lurching forward and propped on his cane in such a way that his right arm was completely straight and pressed directly to his side. He moved forward, dragging his bum leg like dead weight.
"Bastardo!"
She saw the new men, four of them and her heart started beating wildly, praying they would just steal and go. She was about thirty yards down the road from them.
"Fabrizio!" she called out to him.
He turned around just to see her one last time before the deafening sounds of bullets ripped through the air and through Fabrizio De Rossi's limp body.
Rose released a primal scream and ran toward him in a frenzy. A second round of bullets came at the just the right time to bring Rose down on top of Fabrizio.
After one anguished howl, dropping to her knees, she lay silently with her cheek resting on the back of his shoulder. And then the night was silent in Pompeii save for the scrambling heals of a few faceless men.