A/N Attention all readers: I am so sorry. I'm really, really, really, really, RIDICULOUSLY sorry! Almost as sorry as the Lost writers should be for killing off Ana Lucia. Ofcourse, she was my favorite character in the end... I didn't like her that much when she killed Shannon. My other favorite character is Sawyer, he's badass AND good-looking. Wow, I like talking about Lost a lot. This is, ofcourse, a Titanic fic.
As the night flew by, Rose wanted to go feed Cora, but she realized that there was not a single child to feed. She wanted to have dinner with Jack, but she knew that he would die right beside her. Atleast that was what the doctor said.
Jack's problem was getting much worse as the night went by. He could barely breathe, nor walk, nor could he stand up for that matter. Even more was that he asked to go home to die, for dying in a hospital did not seem to do him any good.
It made Rose feel terrible to know that only a year had gone by since he had been found. Found, that's it, found. The only reason why she was found was because her love for him had saved her. At that point, however, it would then try to kill her, tear her into endless amounts of shreds falling down into the streets, where she would spend some days of her life. Maybe a day, maybe a month, maybe a year or two. For all she could care, her pride and hopes were all washing away, treakling down the sink known as life.
Rose stood beside Jack on his bed, and gave him one of the last kisses she would ever place on his lips. "I love you, Jack," she said, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "I am really sorry to see you pass right now. I know you will, Jack, and I will move on."
"It's... ok... Rose," Jack wheezed. Rose could barely make out what he said, but she nodded and smiled warmly, supposing that his reply to her was what she wanted.
"I know it'll be ok, Jack," she said quietly, rubbing his warm forehead. "I will survive, no matter how hard things will seem. Just for you, Jack."
"You know... Rose," said Jack, trying his best to talk in full sentences, "it's awful that I have to leave you, right now. I mean, you've already lost your daughter, now me, and..."
"Shhh," Rose whispered, putting her index finger to Jack's lips, "it's alright. I will never lose the either of you, why? Because no matter what, you two will always be in my heart. My heart will go on, Jack, but there will always be that part of me that has you two in it. That'll be my secret for a long time, for a woman's heart is a deep ocean of secrets. You just never know what'll happen, or what you're going to get out of it. Jack, I can't promise you this, but I can tell you that no matter how old I am, whether I'm twenty or a hundred, I will tell our story before I die. I will live a long life... just for you."
"Just... as long... as you stay out of trouble!" Jack replied, pulling Rose into a short kiss. As they pulled out, they gave eachother a laugh.
"Don't worry, I won't be seeing Caledon Hockley for a while yet," Rose chortled for the last time that night. "He's a wretched man, isn't he?"
"No worries, Rose, I bet a million dollars that he will kill himself one of these days," Jack laughed. They both laughed and giggled until the moment came when Rose would be crying.
"Jack..." she cracked holding her hand out to touch his face.
"I love you," were the last words Jack had ever said.
Jack Dawson, of twenty-one, died that very night on April 15th, 11:20; a year and a day since the Titanic hit the iceberg. Rose could not cry, nor did she smile, for she just stood there, a blank expression lying on her face. She blinked and blinked, until a tear shed from her eye; the beginning of a new tear for the aftermath of Jack Dawson's death.
Meanwhile, at the orphanage...
"I want a baby, and I want one now, Mr. George," said a wretched, demanding man inside of an orphanage of crying babies. "I want a redhead, too, GET ME A REDHEAD!"
"Ok, ok," said Mr. George, cowering over his new boss. He walked over to one cradle, which said "Cora Josephine" on it. It said to keep her name the same as it always was for the past three months. This redhead requires plenty of nurture and care from atleast one parent. "Yes, yes, this is the one. MASTER!"
"Yes, Mr. George?" said the same man with the black hair and the expensive suit to make such a head of hair.
"I found one for you," said Mr. George, pointing to the cradle with the redheaded infant.
"Rose..." the man gaped, then turning to his manservent. "Well, to hell with it, I want her!"
The man dug into his pocket for a handful of money, and handed it over to his manservent. He gladly accepted it, and took it over to the sister. The nun looked to see if anyone was watching, and took the money and allowed herself to not show it to a single person around her. She nodded, and asked for the master to come over to her.
"Cora Josephine is now yours, Mr. Caledon Hockley."
To be continued...
A/N Again, I am SO, SO, SO, SO sorry. The reason why I did it, though, was so that Rose could tell her story and have no record of Jack. Besides, if she told her story about Jack while there was a record, then people may have already known about the whole story. I hope that makes sense to you people. Anyway, I will be writing a sequel to this called "A Hockley's Tale." If anyone has a better idea for a name, let me know.