Rose...
"Jack..." Rose cried once more, as her silent tears dropped down to the waters below. "You jump, I jump. But I didn't jump this time... I
told you I would never let go of your promise, and you told me I would survive. I did survive, my dear... but I don't know how long I can
survive without you. I don't know if I will ever get married, or if I will make tons of babies like you said I would. I miss you, Jack... but I
don't know if I can hold on any longer..."
Her heart pounded, as she continued to shiver in her wet dress which she had only worn that one night after Jack sketched her. Wait...
the drawing! That son of a bitch Hockley kept it in the safe. Shit... I will never see it again, she screamed inside. "God damnit, I
hate that wretched man!" she exclaimed angrilly. "I wish I could just be on the ship once more... even if it happens after I die. I want the
Titanic to be my heaven. Please, just let it be my heaven. Please, God, this is what I beg of you! I don't want to see any clouds and angels
and all that bullshit. I want to see Jack, and no one but Jack. I just want to see him one more time."
Feeling miserable, Rose crashed. She felt her body tumble down to the floor, her head dizzy and her body frozen. Then, she felt
something hard pressing against against her head, as though someone had thrown a rough ball at her. Instantly, she fell unconscious, and
began to dream horribly.
"Jack? Jack!" Rose shouted as she ran down the ship known as the Titanic. Her heart was thumping against her ribcage, and she
was wearing a new, elegant dress that she had never worn before. She did not know exactly what she was doing on the Titanic
and it was nowhere near the point of sinking. She had noticed that the ship was docking in New York City, so maybe she was
looking for Jack in order to get off the boat with him.
She kept running, bumping into all sorts of people in her way. Her mother, Cal (who had tried to stop her, ofcourse), Mr.
Andrews, everyone she had known except for Jack, who was apparently searching for her, too. "Rose!" she heard, coming from
behind her.
"Oh Rose, thank God I've found you," Jack gasped, catching the shortness of his breathe. Rose felt his arms caressing her body,
the warmth of his body overcoming her. It was such a wonderful thing, having her lover beside her as though she was his
childhood sweetheart.
"Oh Jack, I thought I had lost you too. I love you Jack!" And with that, Rose and Jack began to kiss passionately, her cherry lips
locking onto the unimaginably soft texture of his own lips. She had completely forgotten about the real world, where the Titanic
had sunk and had left Rose and Jack alone in the cold alongside numerous amounts of cadavers, including the officer who had
the whistle that Rose had blown on.
The next thing she knew, however, she heard gunshots firing from behind her. Apparently, Caledon Hockley had gotten Mr.
Lovejoy's pistol, and had aimed for Jack, but had hit Rose straight into her spinal cord. "Jack!" she cried weakly, as two
officers rushed over to pull the bullet out. But, it was too late, and Rose's head began to spin. the light around her was blurring,
and she could no longer see Jack. It was the end for her love, and the end of her life.
"Rose! Rose, no! Don't be dead!"
Quite a few hours later, Rose felt a burning sensation on her cheeks. Apparently, a young man was slapping her silly, as she was coming
out of her faint.
"Miss! Miss!" she heard an easily recognizable voice shout against her ears. Rose's heart lit up inside of her, and with that, she opened her
eyes instantly. For a second, she thought it was Jack, but instead it was a bloody officer. Oh how she thought that anyone could have
been Jack, for he stood out amongst the crowd. However, he was the only person Rose ever wanted to see in the first place, so anyone
else who came in the way... was basically history.
"Miss, are you alright? Could I get you some tea? Anything for that matter," the officer said with his strong English accent. Rose just
pushed him off of her, and glared at him as though he were a wet dog shaking itself out in the sun.
"No! I'm fine," Rose shouted, feeling somewhat guilty for having gotten on the Carpathia in the first place. Then, she sighed, for she
knew that being rude to an officer from the ship of dreams--as people called it, atleast--would not get her anywhere. "I'm sorry, sir, I
really am deeply sorry. It's just that... I lost a loved one on the ship--not just any old loved one, but I mean the man I trully loved above
all--and he's the only one I want to see right now, but I can't... he's dead. I'm sorry, but I just want to be left alone right now. I hope you
understand. The only thing I want to do now is to go to Santa Monica and think of him everyday, which I will. Thankyou for your time,
sir, it's been a pleasure."
"Oh, it's alright..." the officer sighed, taken aback from the young woman's reaction, "you've been through so much trauma, seeing as we
had found you in the water at all. You must have lost him in the water... but I do recall finding a man thinking that he had lost his own
woman."
"Oh really?" Rose said, looking enthusiastic about what this man could be saying. "What did he look like? Blonde hair, strikingly blue
eyes, not so much on the posh side of life?"
"Why, yes, actually," the officer said.
Rose's eyes brightened up in response to the kind officer's word. "Is he here right now on this ship?"
"I believe so."
Jack...
"Rose is dead..." Jack sobbed, the words still burned into his mind, "Rose is dead... and it's all White Star Line's fault!"
Jack, still bawling horrificly, grabbed a small ball beside him, and launched it across the boat. It hit a woman's head, but he was to
nonchalant to even go over there and help get her out of unconsciousness like what one of the officers was doing. She was obviously one
of the people who had been rescued in the water, for she was clearly bundled up in plenty of blankets. If that woman had been Rose, he
would have immediately gone over and apologized for doing such a thing to her.
"Oh Rose, why? Why did you have to leave me?" Jack shouted into mid air, getting down on all fours.
His heart began to thud through his ribs, his skin beginning to sweat heavily, as he collapsed onto the ground. Then, he realized
something--what had happened to his drawing? His only picture of Rose DeWitt Bukater, not lying in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
He thought he would have kept that wonderful, erotic drawing for the rest of his life, but not it, alongside his love, were stuck in the
Titanic never to be found.
Then, an idea popped into Jack's head--"I need... to write... a letter," Jack slowly announced to himself. Then again, how would he find
any form of paper without his book of sketches? Then, he had yet another idea! He would have to beg an officer for some. The nearest
officer just happened to be turning away from the woman who had fallen before, of whom had then walked away from the officer.
"Sir! Sir, do you have any paper on you? I need it," Jack pleaded, running over to the humble officer. "Please, I need to write a letter."
The officer turned around and smirked, as though he had seen a homeless woman whoring herself to a rich man. "For who?"
Jack was taken aback at the officer, of whom he thought was edging his nose into his own business. "For... a friend back at home. To tell
him I was alright," Jack said, feeling as though he was the best liar of whom God had ever made--aside from Hockley, ofcourse.
"Why, ofcourse, I do have paper. And a writing utensil, if you please," the officer sighed, handing a small scrap of paper and a blunt stick of lead to him.
"Thankyou, sir, thankyou very much," Jack responded happily, then edging towards his bench on the ship. He slowly sat down on the ice-cold seat, and began to write thoroughly.
'Dear White Star Line officials,
Let's get something straight... For starters, it was an honor to have gone on the R.M.S. Titanic for the past few days, but that's
not what I am here to talk about. What I'm writing to you about is your lies about how such a ship was supposedly "unsinkable"
and very much on the sturdy side of life. Well, you were wrong. Because of you, from what I have counted, 1500 people have
died because of an ice berg that defeated your word. Only 700 people, and seven out of those 700 including myself, had been
saved from such a tragedy.
Now, I myself have met Mr. Andrews on the ship. He was a dear to my love, who had died in the waters by the way, and he
really meant a lot to her. He was a very nice man, and because of you, he had to face embarrassment alongside the captain and
Mr. Ismay for this event. Oh, and by the way, I saw him go down with the ship, so how do you like that? When you get this
letter, take it seriously, because if I had a nice lawyer around, I would sue. I'm pretty sure a lovely wealthy man would do the
same. So be it. You guys are terrible, and you better not be thinking about making any more ships for the next... well... hundred
years! Then maybe you can make a ship that's unsinkable, but even then, it might just find the same ice berg and crash into it.
How would you like to see that again?
So, thankyou for your time to read this. Assholes.
Your biggest fan,
Jack Dawson
Jack sealed the letter shut, and held it in his hand to mail after the ship would dock. He would have to find an apartment in Santa Monica
in order to send the letter, so he'll figure out a way to live. If he could only have his paintings... they would be worth a lot more come the
time he would make it to the mainland.
"If only Rose could see this..."