Written by Erin
Based on some situations originated by James Cameron.
Her red curls blew in the soft ocean breeze as she walked slowly along the surfline. The cool water lapped up over her feet, bubbling and foaming as it prepared to slide back out again.
The previous Rose DeWitt Bukater, now Rose Dawson, folded her arms and gave a small sigh. A month had gone by since the Titanic's tragic demise, and Rose missed Jack more than ever. She gazed up at the famous wooden roller coaster on the Santa Monica pier, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
Jack would not want you to cry for him, a small voice spoke inside of her head. You came here to move on with your life. You are as far from Philadelphia as you can be.
"I'm trying," Rose replied aloud, grateful she'd chosen to come to the beach early, when no one would see or hear her. Just to know that Jack had sat drawing portraits for ten cents apiece on the boardwalk haunted her. She could almost see him sitting off to the side, his blonde bangs hanging in his eyes.
I shouldn't have come here, she thought, sitting down at last on the sand.
Jack wandered aimlessly along the pier, exhausted from his travels. He had a strong instinct he would find Rose here. It amazed him that he had even survived the sinking, after being in the water for so long. A fishing boat had picked him up the morning of the fifteenth, and had taken him in barely alive.
He shuddered as he remembered the icy depths, how even a simple breath had been a struggle. He had lain in one of the boat's cabins, bundled in blankets and watched over by the captain until they reached port.
Once in New York, he had checked the list of survivors, finding a Rose Dawson. It could not have been anyone else. He had been sure of it. After what seemed like weeks of searching, something in his mind had told him she would be in Santa Monica.
He wasn't quite sure why, but he figured it had something to do with one of the first conversations they'd had. Jack leaned on the wooden rail, rubbing his hands over his face. As soon as his vision cleared, he saw her…his Rose.
She had her back to him, her long red hair loose and flowing. She wore a pale yellow dress and her bare feet dug into the sand where she sat.
Jack felt his heart racing, and breathed deeply. Would she remember him? He'd told her to go on while they were still in the water. Go to her.
He made his way towards the steps, shuddering against the wind. Rose suddenly stood up, turning, and her eyes locked with his. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, she fainted.
He ran to her limp body, kneeling down and touching her pale cheeks. "Rosie!" he called, and her blue eyes fluttered open. She focused on his face, opening her mouth and closing it. She allowed him to help her sit up, and leaned into his strong embrace. He nuzzled her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her sunflower perfume.
"Jack…it can't be," she whispered, craning her neck to get a better look. She reached up to touch him, watching as he closed his eyes, smiling. "You're not a ghost.." She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face against his shoulder. He held her tight as the tears came. "I thought you were dead," she choked. "I saw your body disappear under the water. Oh, God, Jack, how…?"
He kissed her. "Shh. I'll tell you everything. I promise. I just want to hold you again. I've been looking everywhere for you."
She bit her lip as he wiped her teardrops with his thumbs and laced her fingers through his. She allowed him to feel her, to take her in. As he moved his hands over her bare arms and down her waist, she heard the sound of a seagull crying up above. "You're shivering," she whispered.
"Mmm…so are you," he replied, and the two of them gazed at each other. "Let's go inside."
As Rose let him lead her off the beach, she raised her head and thanked God for answering her prayers. She had truly experienced a miracle.