Chapter five:
In Cal's cold eyes, Jack could see every lie which he had told. Every goddamned lie. His daughter was in Cal's care...he planned to send her away to strangers. Cal's eyes were black, red veins cracked through his retina. Was he under the strain too because this life which he had made for himself, this pristinely projected life was threatening to crack...
Jack found the strength to bring his knee up into Cal's stomach and send him flying backwards, he tumbled backwards onto the desk. Every lie which Cal had ever told him ran through his mind, on repeat. Jack pulled the gun from Cal's hand as he did so. Cal put up a good fight, obviously not used to losing in any way. His clothes were pulled and torn, his body aching from not using it in such a way, in a long time.
The anger inside of Jack had boiled over way too much. Cal 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. The smugness which sat upon his face even now was enough to make even the most sensitive soul angry. Jack felt the blood trickle from his nose from Cal's punch; again, he lunged for him, knocking him into the table and throwing him over it. Jack held Cal against the wall with his throat so that he could only move his eyes.
Jack knew what this felt like. This was exactly what Cal had done to him. He could kill Cal in that moment but he knew better. What good would that do? This had started out as a way to deter Cal from his child, away from Rose but now it had turned to something else. He had gotten personal. He lifted his foot kicking Cal in the stomach and winding him, sending him flying backwards against the wall knocking a large gold mirror from the wall and it smashed over his shoulders and cutting his arms as it fell. Cal choked back a cry, a howl of something as glass sprinkled over his entire body. It should have made him back down. As he glanced about the state of his study, he laughed. This was not over.
Jack could taste the blood but he wouldn't give up yet. He would fight until the very end as long as Rose was away from Cal and he could take her away from all of this. He lay out, blood covering his face and his suit, running downwards onto the carpet. Cal came for Jack, slowly and weakly but this time he moved out of the way sending Cal crashing to the floor. He had grown weaker. Glass was littered all over the floor as well as other debris, papers and other nonsense. Jack backed away from Cal, out of breath. He had what he needed; the key. It wasn't hard to realise that Cal had simply placed it inside his own pocket. As he tried to get up, Cal found his gun there on the floor under his hand and shakily he got to his feet. Jack slowly turned, his back to the door lock as he fumbled about to quietly attempt to place the key in the lock.
''So, this, this is what it comes down to? You would kill me? With Rose in the next room?''
''I should have killed you when I had the chance before.''
Jack smirked. ''You had the chance, just not the shot.''
''Well, I will not miss this time.''
In slow motion, Jack saw as Cal squeezed the trigger with his index finger. But no bullet came out. Nothing happened. He stood, waiting. To die. For something to hit him. For some kind of pain but then he realised...it wasn't loaded. Cal's arm went limp to his left side.
Instinctively, Jack unlocked the door as quickly as his trembling hands would allow him to. Cal's rage was slowly bubbling, like a pan of water at boiling point. He stood from the chair, forcing himself into the corridor as quickly as he could and stepping over the broken glass in his study and when he got there; Jack was nowhere to be seen.
He had gone.
All she does is sleep, Rose thought to herself as she stroked the small tuft of blonde curls atop her daughter's small head. It was soft, warm and beautiful. She knew that cradling the child would ensure an excruciating torture; one which would hold for the rest of her life. But, as her head followed the logical rules of her fiancé, her heart led out her arms to the child, sliding beneath the blanket and then the warm body before lifting her to her own chest, where her heart beat rapidly. This was the first time which Rose had held her daughter. Tears fell from her eyes freely, one or two gently falling onto the child's cheek. She wiped them away so softly with her index finger.
''I love you, so much.'' She whispered as her nose touched the soft crown of her daughter. ''My girl.'' She closed her eyes, as she allowed the scent of her daughter to take over her. That lovely, new-born and innocent smell. ''Elizabeth.'' Her voice was a soft, strangled whisper.
Her legs seemed to want to buckle beneath her from the rush of every emotion in existence. ''My little Elizabeth.'' The name was one she had loved since childhood. One which she would name the doll she had been bought for an early birthday.
Rose closely examined Elizabeth's tiny face; the small features which were another version of her and Jack's. She pointed to each mark, each freckle and her stomach sank even more than before. She mentally kept this image, of her sleeping daughter in her arms, where she was out of harm's way. Rose knew that this time tomorrow, a car would come to collect Elizabeth, to take her away to another family to be raised, perhaps to be loved and to bond with other people who she would call her parents. Rose's cry was loud, her baby clenched tightly to her stomach. Her insides still hurt, her body weak from the birth but just holding her baby was enough to make her forget all of that. It made her forget just how the pregnancy had caused her to suffer. She had been encouraged to ignore the movement from within for as soon as the child was born, no bond would be made and here she was, bonding, and loving.
''No,'' she whispered between painful sobs, ''you will not go with them. You will stay with me.''
Two small blue eyes blinked open, slowly. Rose gasped, as she rearranged the child within the blanket. A tiny fist waved in the air, escaping the blanket and then pink gums were exposed but Elizabeth didn't cry. Rose knew what time it was and that Trudy would come to collect her to take her to the wet nurse, where she would be fed by a stranger just like she had been since birth. Rose tucked a curl behind her ear as she found herself sitting cross legged on the floor, holding onto her bundle ever so tightly. She stroked her daughter's cheek whilst examining a pair of beautiful blue eyes which watched her ever so intently. Is this what real love is? The sheer beauty of this; a mother and her baby. She could sit and watch her forever.
The door of the bedroom opened ever so suddenly. Rose got to her feet as quickly as possible whilst still holding her baby. She placed a hand over Elizabeth's face to shield her vision of what was before her. Cal was brandishing his gun. Rose wanted to scream as he clicked the door closed, he started to come to her, his eyes as black as his soul. Rose knew that Jack was no longer here in that moment. But he would be alive and looking at the state of Cal, Jack had put up a good fight. Inside, she knew she couldn't think of that at the moment. Cal wouldn't hurt her, she knew that.
''No, stay away.'' She held out her hand as a warning but he still came closer, his large feet scraping the carpet.
Rose went to the window, pulling a large golden rope which opened the heavy green drapes which allowed light into the room which Cal had instructed to keep dark. Rose saw how Elizabeth blinked, her eyes struggling to adjust to the now bright room. She placed a tender hand over her face, supporting the back of her neck.
''Rose, put the child down...''
''No.'' Rose's jaw was tight and firm. She lifted Elizabeth so that her face was nuzzled into her Mother's neck. ''You are mistaken if you think for one moment I am afraid any longer.''
Cal watched as he knew in that moment something had changed. She had become a Mother. The Mother which he hadn't wanted her to become. Cal glanced to the child, how it didn't cry and just how Rose clung to it. There had been a bond made. One which should not have been allowed. The plan which he had made, ensured was bullet proof, had somehow unravelled and now he was full of anger.
''This is ridiculous. We have a deal; the Porters are coming-''
''I do not give a damn!'' Rose shouted, her voice startling her daughter. Rose rubbed her back gently as she edged closer to the window. ''I will not live without my daughter and she will not leave me.''
The determination in her eyes told Cal just how much more difficult this situation had gotten. His gun was held close to his own chest in a maddening rage he wanted to shoot at something, anything. He tried to keep his emotions in check. He wiped his face with his dirty, bloodied hand. Dawson was the cause of all of this, he should be the one to pay but first he would ensure that Rose was his own, fully.
''She will leave you, Rose. Whether you like it or not. You have no authority over that damned child.''
Rose narrowed her eyes at Cal, the lump in her throat rising but she wouldn't show him her weakness, no more. She stepped up onto the window seat ledge, carefully so that her heels didn't catch in the net curtain. Beneath the material, she found the latch for the window before pushing it open and allowing a cool January breeze to blow in from outside, causing the net curtain to billow outwards around Rose and Elizabeth as though they were ghostly apparitions.
''I am her Mother! Elizabeth is mine, and mine only. She will not be sent away.''
''Rose! Come down.''
''No.''
''Rose-''
''Perhaps we should make a deal, since that is the only way in which you will listen to me.'' Elizabeth whimpered slightly and Rose caressed at her neck, wrapping the blanket further around her body to shield her from the chill. She knew that this would be the only way for Cal to listen to anything which she had to say. To use her own life as the bargain. ''I want to know everything about the deal which you made with Jack Dawson.''
''There is no-''
''Or I will jump out of this window.''
Cal's eyes widened as she pulled back the net curtain. Her eyes were wide, startled.
''You wouldn't jump.''
''Yes, I would.'' She told him. Her voice unwavering. ''My existence without my daughter is one which I never wish to live in. She will not be leaving me. Now tell me about Jack...why did you lie?''
Cal bit the inside of his lip. He had no control. He needed some control. At that moment in time, his name flashed across his eyes in a headline which outlined Rose's death as well as the child...his name would be dragged through-God know what. ''Jack has been here since last summer. I told him of your condition and your welfare in exchange for ten thousand dollars to pay for his complete confidence.''
Rose felt her nostrils flare as the burning went all the way down her throat. She wanted to sob. He had known all along. Yet, he hadn't come to her. She knew that Jack would have tried but would have been kept away. ''Continue.''
''Rose, he accepted the money. That was all he damned wanted until he found out the kid was born and now he wants more-''
''You're a liar!'' She whispered. ''He doesn't want money. He wants me.''
''That is where you are mistaken. For if he wanted you, he would have come looking when he escaped my study but instead he left the house with the cheque.''
Jack's body pulsated but it didn't stop him from running. He ran until he was out of breath and he thought he would fall to the floor. He winced at the pain and ignored the throbbing of his ribs until the bar loomed. Inside, a cloud of smoke welcomed him, filling his nostrils until he landed half across the bar, scaring pub-goers half to death.
''What's wrong, boy? You been in a fight.''
''Pen.'' Jack muttered, his breathing ragged. ''I need a pen and a drink.'' He rustled in his pocket and pulled out a $5 note and slammed it on the bar. The barman took it without a word, ignoring any other thirty punters. ''Oh, and I need paper.'' He shouted.
Jack ignored the looks and scowls of the others as he waited impatiently, adrenaline still rushing through his body like electricity. The barman returned with paper, an ink pen and a pint of something. First, Jack took a long drink from the stout, enjoying every single gulp knowing this could be his last. He was out of breath but he was focused, intent on following through with his plan. He took the lid from the pen before starting the letter he knew he should have written days before. His writing was a mess, his hands shaking but he tried his best...
Dear, Molly...