Rose was not afraid anymore. As the warm wave brought her steadily nearer to Davy Jones' Locker she felt a deep calmness, and a slight curiosity. During the past three days she had finally come to terms with her destiny and accepted that her time was up.
She travelled surrounded by water, but like that time with Otohime she had no trouble breathing. On either side of her she felt the comforting presence of the sea goddess and her daughter, the latter still holding her hand in a secure clasp, and escorting them were the two dolphins from before. The only sound came from their ever-smiling maws, a series of cheerful whistles and clicks.
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
After an indeterminable amount of time, they arrived outside a white wooden wall with a paneled door that Rose recognized very well. On an oval number plate she read 'B-56', and underneath it a smaller sign had the words 'First Class'.
"This was my cabin. On the boat..." She reached out to touch the plate. "How could that be?"
"The Locker looks different for everybody," Calypso explained. "This is the route you must take, with the ghosts you must meet."
"Ghosts?" Rose's eyes popped open.
"Figuratively speaking. The Locker is a place to settle one's old life and let go of it. Some stay only a short time, some never leave. It all depends on the choices they make and the sacrifices they accept."
"Accept?"
"Yes. That's what this is about. Acceptance – and forgiveness."
"I don't understand."
"You don't have to understand, just follow your heart."
After saying her goodbyes to Otohime and Calypso, Rose placed her fingers on the door handle, preparing herself mentally. And then she walked through it, hearing the door shut behind her. She knew without being told she could not open it again.
From here, she could only go forward.
The carpet was soft under her feet as Rose slowly walked through the familiar First Class suite. The bed was the same, the furniture... everything. It even smelled the same; fresh paint. She was back aboard the Ship of Dreams. The RMS Titanic.
She went to stand before her dresser with the large vanity mirror. She wore that flimsy evening dress again, the one she had drowned in. With a trembling hand she touched her tortoise shell hand mirror and an embellished comb she had worn in her hair. They felt so real. All of this felt real, as if she had travelled forward in time – back to the future.
Then she noticed there were some differences after all. Around her neck hung the seashell pendant Otohime had given her and instead of the high-heeled pumps she had died in she wore the practical boots Elizabeth had bought.
The cabin had some changes as well. When she boarded the Titanic that day, she had brought with her her paintings. Monet, Degas, and that promising young artist – Picasso, his name was, if she recalled correctly – and placed them on the tables and chairs to liven up the place. The picture frames were still there, but instead of colorful oil paintings they now contained coal sketches. Most of them were drawings of a ship, the Black Pearl, made by Jack Sparrow.
With a twinge of longing she wished she was back in that house with sober Jack, just passing the time and doing nothing special. She had enjoyed being with him despite his grumpiness and cheating in dice. She missed sleeping together, hearing his even breathing and feeling his warm form next to her.
Then she saw the last frame, which had a drawing of herself made by the other Jack, Jack Dawson. In the picture she was naked, wearing only the Heart of the Ocean.
How erotic that moment had been! She still felt a flutter of excitement at the memory. The cool air against her bare skin, the dry rasping of his pencil, his eyes coming up to look at her over the edge of his sketchpad.
She longed for that Jack too. They had gotten much too little time together and no real closure.
Rose heard a noise from the other room and her mother entered.
"There you are. Are you wearing those vulgar boots again? You know I don't like that." Her voice was as calm and impassive as always.
"Mother..." Rose whispered, reaching out her hand towards the woman but then dropping it, not quite daring to touch her in case she would prove to be an incorporeal ghost.
"Turn around, I'll help you with your corset." As in a dream, Rose obeyed, discovering she was suddenly in her shift. She felt her mother grasp the strings and pull. The woman was no ghost then, an incorporeal being was certainly not capable of lacing up a corset. "I don't get you," Ruth scolded. "How could you be so selfish? Drowning with that boy instead of marrying Cal, ensuring our survival." She tied the final knot and twirled Rose to face her. "Do you know what I must do now?"
Wordlessly Rose shook her head.
"I have to work as a seamstress. Thanks to you, our fine things were sold at an auction – our memories scattered to the winds. Now I have to work for a living. Was that what you wanted?"
Feeling a pang of guilt, Rose opened her mouth to say no, but shut it when she recalled the friends she had made on the Titanic. All of them had been hard working men and women; Fabrizio, Olaf, Helga, Tommy... Jack Dawson.
"Don't be so proud. There is nothing wrong with honest work," she said.
"This from you, who loves a pirate." Mother's voice was teeming with scorn. "He's never done an honest day's work in his life. And you're becoming just as bad as him."
"I am not like a pirate! I would never sink that low," she protested, offended.
"Oh, so you think yourself better than him? You say I'm proud, but you're no different."
She was right, Rose did think herself better than Jack. He was the pirate, the thief, the drunkard – whereas she was generous and noble, who had sacrificed her life for Will and Elizabeth.
The truth of Mother's words stung, but Rose knew she had needed to hear them.
She thought about the pirate way of living. Was it so different from what her family had done? They had lived on 'old money' earned by her ancestors in dubious ways, often by using others – the poor and the less educated, who could be made into indentured workers and slaves. And she had accepted it, wearing the fine clothes and jewellery, eating the expensive food.
As for giving up her life... In all honesty she had not really had much choice. She had given the Pearl Box to Will because she knew the alternative would have made her miserable; hated by everybody, leading an immortal life alone in a world she did not know.
She had no right to look down on Jack and his lifestyle – especially knowing how limited his choices had been as a teenage father. One whose own father also was a pirate.
"I'm not better than him," she said at last. "We both are what we are because of who we were born to."
Mother's gaze softened and she smiled fondly, stroking Rose's cheek. "Well done. You passed the first test."
"I did? What do I win?"
Mother pointed at a door that had appeared on the other side of the room. "Passage to the Second Class. Good luck!"
A/N:
This was just the first test of several... Rose has come to a strange place indeed!
Image Credits:
Screenshots from the Titanic.