A/N: Now here is another chapter for you. But guys come on give me some reviews (*lookingatyouwithpuppydogeyes* :-)) - I love getting reviews :-)
The night would've been completely covered by darkness, if it wouldn't have been lighted by the moon. That made it easier for him to find his way. He had left the house at night, when he was sure that everybody was sleeping.
Jack couldn't wait any longer. Just sitting there and tending to Mrs. Mansfield wouldn't bring him any nearer to the diamond. It was raining and windy, a typical day in April. He had sneaked out through the window.
'I'll give you one week…'
And two more remaining until I've to be back…
It's almost impossible to ever find…no it is impossible.
Of course Cal had known right from the start there was no solution. He face had been showing his disdain, his voice challenging him.
You'll never discover it – his eyes had been expression his amusement, as he had cocked his eyebrows towards him in contempt. Caledon Hockley in his perfectly fitting clothes, with manners of a gentleman…oh, if people only knew…
Jack drew his coat closer to his body. He had just hastily grabbed one and wasn't even sure that it was his. Hopefully not that of Mr. Lindsay…
Or maybe…
Jack smiled to himself imagining his stupid face. This always well-dressed gentleman, his hair slicked back – surely it was dyed, Mr. Lindsay must be older than fifty, when judging from his actions. Not that he was unfriendly, he was just so boring. In fact he was the perfect incarnation of monotony.
'That's Mr. Guggenheim and his mistress…'
She had tried to hold back her giggle, being hooked up into his arms, explaining to him the most useless things, while the ship had been driving towards its fate. In between he couldn't help up wish that just for once he would've been to lead such a life as her.
Never thinking about money again…
Jack smiled. The wind was blowing heavily into his face.
Now Mr. Lindsay, you've got someone too?
Dimly he was aware of the people around him. Truly in his old home, Chippewa Falls, no one had been outside at this time of the night. But this was the big city of Boston, capital of Massachusetts and famous for the Boston Tea Party…
Jack knew the speech by heart. He had heard it often enough and could recite it.
'Can you see the harbour, Miss Mansfield?'
Of course she does, she isn't blind – Jack had wanted to scream back.
What a pity that this young, beautiful girl…her beauty would be wasted to this old man, who seemingly didn't know how to write the word fun.
Rose and Ella had so much in common and yet were so completely different.
"Alright, if I were…," he spoke out aloud stopping himself instantly.
If he were a diamond, then he would hang around a beautiful woman's neck or maybe not beautiful, but at least a woman's neck…and I would…
"Ha, ha that's ridiculous."
Now at least I can still laugh about it. If I was a diamond…yes…now stop dreaming, Jack and get on.
But despite all obstacles, Boston was interesting. The museums had been nice and Jack sure would've enjoyed the pictures more, if Fabrizio hadn't been constantly on his mind. Now being in the poorer part of town, the white-painted stone houses had disappeared and were replaced by wooden…mmh objects. Calling them houses would've been an overstatement.
'A Monet…see his use of colours?'
Normally the portraits in the museums would've shined out against everything, naturally brightening up his life. The stairs, made out of marble, leading up to the museum, had been a little work of art themselves.
He had lived in Paris for two years, always admiring, envying the people able to buy tickets for the Louvre. How many years had it taken to build it? How many money had been paid out for such luxury for a merely handful of people to see in the end? How many people had had to die, because the taxes had been thrown out for an exhibition hall, rather than to buy them food?
Oh and how many times had he wished to be inside and see it?
Rose had pictures from Monsieur Monet and surely dozen others…and now they were embraced by water and she was dead, swallowed up by the cold, dreadful blackness.
'I brought you some charcoals.'
'Thank you.'
Sitting on his bed, he wrapped up the paper, not caring about doing it properly just throwing it onto the floor. His eyes were focused on his present, while her hands were on his shoulder, her fingers in his hair…
'Oh, my sweet boy…you got go to the barber soon…'
She had laughed and Jack would've protested, if his mind hadn't been absorbed by the wonderful possessions his in hands.
He could still feel her kiss on his cheek. Never had he thought that it would be the last time that…his mother had been smiling at him, before he left the house, waving after him.
'I'll see you after school.'
And he, being the young, careless boy he was, had even forgotten to grab his books, only the new charcoals he had taken with him. Now they couldn't stay at home. Only at school was he suddenly alerted about his impoliteness towards his mother. She had probably spent all her money for it.
'Just to make my boy a real artist…you'll be famous once, I'm sure.'
He should've said something more. Really expressed his gratitude to her…but surely his mother wouldn't be offended. She was his mother and he would thank her again, when getting home.
Change of scene…now he got to find the diamond. Indeed the houses here were much more trivial, not very spectacular. Nothing compared to Paris, the Titanic…
"Phooey…," Jack mumbled the wind blowing through his clothes.
Now, he had the proof. It really was his coat, soaking wet and his hair was the same.
The moonlight was leading his way and silently he proceeded further. Fabrizio needed him. He couldn't let him down now. They had been through so many dangerous situations, the Titanic being just one of them.
What a cold, blistering night that was. He met people in light dresses, seemingly not caring about the chilliness. Their faces were dancing around him, sarcastically telling him that he had no chance.
Didn't they feel the icy winter?
"My dear, don't you want to have some fun?" a voice called out laughing and yet mocking him at the same time.
Jack shuddered, not even thinking of reacting.
In the increasing darkness he didn't see the carriage and through his nerviness, a mixture of shame, uneasiness and apprehension he pumped into it. It hurt more than it should have. Tenderly his hand moved out, fumbling around in the night like a blind one.
'Oh, Jack, honey, what have you done?'
His clothes were more than wet, now it was chilly and the sun was standing high above in the sky. Jack's mind was with Rose once more. Suddenly the woman was there again.
"I told you I could make you happy."
His eyes were unfocused, his head spinning around, his arms searching for something he could take a hold off. There were some other hands on him, arms lifting him up. And the freezing cold…
Someone was putting a blanket around him.
"Now going out in this state, son…"
His eyes were closed.
'Doctor, doctor, what's going to happen?'
"…that's not very wise."
He wanted to stand up, but something was holding him down.
The diamond, the diamond…it's at the bottom of the Atlantic and he was being sucked back into it.
'Mother…it's so cold.'
The soothing voice of a woman and a hand on his forehead, he couldn't make out anything. He had to find his help someone, got to make out were that stupid diamond could be.
Seriously why bother?
'Jack, I can't feel my body.'
His mother was giving him more blankets, covering him up in his bed.
'What did you do breaking into that ice?'
His father had scolded him – 'That's for your disobedience' – slapped him though at the same time telling how glad he was he was still alive.
'My dearest boy…'
'Jack, Jack…Jack…' her voice was desperate, high-pitched and full of fear.
And water around him was sucking him down, drawing him nearer to the ground. Rose's voice, her eyes…
'A water like that, it hits you like a thousand knives.'
'I told you not to go there alone. You never listen!'
Bump…
Another blow…
Now his cheek was burning.
'You worried my mother and me to death!'
"Mr. Dawson…," he felt being tossed around, his head spinning. "Mr. Dawson, wake up you're having a fever."
The surroundings had changed. He wasn't out on the streets anymore. A warm, comfortable sensation was taking hold of him. But the arms…they weren't those of his mother.
'Doctor, will he be alright?'
'I think so…he's got pneumonia, Mrs. Dawson…'
"Mr. Dawson, we're all worried about you…now open your eyes, before my aunt comes back…how should I explain to her…" a desperate voice called out.
People were hurrying around, asking questions.
'Have you seen my husband?'
'No.'
'He has to be on that list.'
Sweat was running down his cheeks. He got a feeling of being a flame in a heated oven.
Couldn't they take that damn blankets away?
'It's a serious case of hypothermia…a wonder he's still alive…considering how long he was in that water…'
Afterwards Fabrizio had found him and in the true sense of the word brought him back to life. Only if…if it would've been possible to shut out the cries of the people near him…