"I'm not going without you," she said, quietly but firmly. She held her head steady, her eyes on his, trying to appear stronger than she felt. "Rose, you have to go," he said.
"No, Jack."
"Yes. Rose, get on the boat," he said. His hands were on her shoulders; the need to push her toward safety struggled with the need to hold her. "No, Jack," she said again, shaking her head. "Get on the boat, Rose," he insisted. It was the closest he could come to a command. Cal's voice startled them both. "Yes, get on the boat, Rose," he boomed, appearing as if from nowhere. Rose stared at him, baffled and angered by his sudden intrusion. His features softened. "My God, look at you," he said, reaching for her. "You must be freezing. You look a fright." He grabbed the blanket from around her shoulders and shoved it toward Jack with a curt, "Here." He slipped out of his coat. "Put this one," he said, casting a quick glance at the crowd around them. A stunned Rose allowed the coat to be placed around her shoulders, but she recoiled from his touch. Jack shoved in front of his, almost pushing him back. "Rose, you have to go," he pleaded. "Now!"
"No!" she insisted. "Not without you!" Her hands moved across Jack's face and hair; she clutched at his shirt, as if letting go would mean losing him forever. "I'll be fine," Jack promised. "I'll get the next one." Rose shook her head. "Don't worry about me," he added. "I'm a survivor, all right. Go on!"
Cal's gaze moved from Rose to Jack. "I have an arrangement with an officer on the other side of the ship," he offered. "Jack and I can get off safely. Both of us."
"See?" Jack said. "Got my own boat to catch.
Rose shook her head. "No," she insisted.
"Rose—" Jack began.
"You know he's lying," she said. She pressed his hands. Jack opened his mouth only to close it again. "I'm not," Cal said, offended. Rose glanced over at him. "Do you really think so little of me, Rose?" he asked. Her voice was cold. "Yes," she replied. He drew in his breath sharply, holding back a response. "If you aren't lying," she continued, "Get me on the boat as well."
"What would be the point?" he scoffed. "All the boats are already letting women on."
"Then it won't be a problem," Rose said. She held Jack's hand tightly. "Rose, there's no need to do this," Jack said.
"Yes, there is," she answered. "I can't leave you." She looked up into his eyes. "I won't."
…..
Rose wrapped her arms around Jack as they settled into the boat. "You're trembling," she said. "I'm fine," he assured her. Unconvinced, she slipped out of Cal's coat and placed it around him. "What're you doing?" Jack said. "Rose, no—" His voice softened. "Here, let's share," he suggested. "It'll be warmer that way." Just then he realized he was still holding the blanket. Rose settled her head against his chest, her arms around him. Jack draped the blanket over them and returned the embrace, resting his chin on her head. Rose closed her eyes, suddenly exhausted. It couldn't still be the same night. She felt as though weeks had passed since that morning, since the sunset, since declaring her intention to run away with Jack. It was such a bold statement to make, but she knew she had to do it. As she'd stood there, gazing into his eyes, she understood she could say anything to him.
Jack met Cal's glare with a look of indifference that silently asked, "What are you going to do about it?" Rose was in his arms, and that's where she would stay.
The attempt to cocoon themselves against the cold was only partially successful. The cold still managed to creep in, sending shivers through them. Jack felt Rose's breathing begin to slow. "Don't go to sleep," he said, shaking her gently. Her murmur was indecipherable. "Rose, don't go to sleep," he said insistently. Her eyes fluttered open. He moved her into a sitting position. "Stay awake," he said.
"I just closed my eyes," she said, confused.
"You went to sleep," he replied. "You can't do that, Rose, alright?" She nodded. "It's so cold," she said, pressing closer to him. "Don't think about it," he told her. "Think about warm places. Think about…California."
"I've never been there."
"We're going, remember? You know, it never gets cold there," he explained. "You could spend the whole winter in L.A. and never see snow or even frost, sleep outside even."
"Sleep—outside?" Rose asked, incredulous.
"Yeah, on the beach, just find a spot high enough to avoid the tide and just camp out."
She hesitated. "Can we do that?"
"Sure," Jack promised. "If you like." He slowly stroked her cheek with his thumb. Letting her stay with him was crazy. Declaring his love for her was crazy. Living the way he did was so much harder than he'd made it out to be, and he wanted to protect her from the cold nights under bridges and the days without food. And what about all the other threats? Here was this beautiful, amazing women placing herself in his hands, trusting him, and what if he failed her? Maybe she wouldn't describe it that way—and he didn't doubt her strength—but that's how he saw it. The doubts should have been overwhelming. They should have cause him to send her right back to her mother and Cal, at least they would keep her warm and fed, but instead the doubts were just faint voices in the back of his mind. He trusted what was happening between them. It was right. As long as she wanted him, he would be there.
"What are you thinking about?" she said softly.
"Nothing," he answered.
They watched the ship go down in silence. Everyone in the boat held their breath when it split in half, when the mighty Titanic was wrenched in two; the tension was palpable as it stood straight up before finally plunging into the sea. Rose's nails dug into Jack's arm through his shirt. He buried his face in her hair and tried to tell himself he couldn't hear the cries of those in the water. They were too far away; he couldn't even see them anymore. He hugged Rose tighter, pushing away thoughts of Fabrizo, Tommy, and the others. It wasn't time to deal with that, to question why he was safe when so many others were not.
Ca; sat stiffly, hunched forward, his chin in his hands. He couldn't take his eyes off the spot where the ship had been. All those reports and assurances of its unsinkability, and he had believed each one, scoffing at the idea of anything happening. And now, here he was, huddled, shivering, in a lifeboat, waiting for whatever would happen next.
Their boat took one person in from the water. Jack lifted Rose into his lap to make room. She lay in his arms like a doll, teeth chattering. He rubbed her arms in a vain effort to warm her. In the beam of the officer's flashlights, he saw how pale she was. Her eyes were dull and tired. She fought to keep them open. Jack had experienced cold like this before, usually with at least a coat of his own, but Rose never had. She had always been quickly shuttled from well-heated buildings into waiting carriages and cars, wrapped in wool and furs, and quickly shuttled back into warm rooms. Jack's clothes were dry now, but her dress, with its seemingly endless layers, had been thoroughly soaked when she rescued him. The top layer was still damp to the touch.
"Stay awake," he said, lifting her head again. "I know you're tired, but you've gotta stay awake."
"I'm so cold," she murmured. He blew on her hands and rubbed them between his. "We'll be warm soon," he reassured her. "Another ship'll come pick us up."
"What if it doesn't?"
"It will," he said. "When things like this happen, they make sure someone else knows about it so they can rescue the survivors." His voice caught on the word survivors. "We just have to wait. Think about something warm," he suggested again. "Like soup, you know, the way it makes you feel to come in from the cold to a bowl of hot soup?"
"No," she admitted. "I don't think I understood what cold is until now." She laughed mirthlessly. "I don't think I understood anything."
"Well, when they pick us up," he said, trying to remain optimistic, "We'll get some. When you take the first spoonful the heat moves all over your body, and you just feel better. And hot coffee. Just holding the mug gets your hands warm."
"I don't like coffee," she said.
"At all?"
She shook her head. "I don't like tea either."
"You can have a cup of plain boiled water then," he joked. She smiled. "It can't taste any worse than either of those," she said.
It was another two hours before the Carpathia arrived, but it felt more like two days. Grim murmurs were moving across the boat when a cry of, "It's here!" rang out. The murmurs increased in volume. Flashlights were shone toward the ship, and a feeling of relief swept through everyone in the boat, like a collective sigh, "We aren't going to die after all."
The sun was rising when their boat began unloading. Jack helped Rose to her feet. She clung to him for support. Her legs were stiff and numb from the cold. Jack's own limbs protested, but he remained steady. Rose tried to shrug off Cal's coat, but Jack stopped her. "It's too cold for that," he said. He glanced over his shoulder. Cal stood behind them, exhaustion and cold lining his face. He started to speak, but then thought better of it. He would come back to himself as soon as he had a hot meal and rested, but at that moment he could only watch them climb onto the rescue ship.
….
Rose could walk just fine after a few minutes. She and Jack were led to a deck already crowded with survivors, most from the third class. There were two lines for soup. "See?" Jack said, steering her toward the shorter one. "I told you we'd have soup." She accepted the steaming bowl gratefully. It burned her numb hands.
"I don't even feel hungry anymore," she said as they settled into an empty spot.
"You are," he assured her. "I don't feel it either, but I am too."
They ate in silence, savoring the flavor, but even more so, the warmth. Jack tipped his bowl up and drank the remainder. He grinned as Rose followed his example. "Feel better?" he asked. She nodded. "Yes," she said. She smiled, and there was light in her eyes again.
….
It was raining when they docked in New York. Dark clouds filled the sky, and the light drizzle quickly became a downpour. Rose held Jack's hand as they descended from the ship. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, certain she felt someone watching them, but neither her mother nor Cal were there. Part of her wondered what Cal told her mother. Had he told her she was still alive? At the same time, another part hoped she never found out where they were. Rose turned to Jack with a smile. "I said I'd get off the ship with you," she said. He squeezed her hand. "I never doubted you would," he said.
"Now what?" she asked.
"Now, we—" He searched for an answer. Neither of them had any money. It was cold and raining. Sleeping outside wasn't an option, and there was also the issue of food. What would they eat? Jack was saved from providing an answer by the sudden appearance of a man whose clothes were only slightly better than his own. He spoke with a thick Irish accent. "I've only got two left, and you look like you need 'em," he said, offering Jack two sheets of paper. "Two what?" Rose asked.
"Hotel vouchers," he answered. "I work for the Imperial Hotel. My boss sent me down here to offer rooms to some of the Titanic survivors. You take these, and you'll have a place to sleep for a few days."
There was still the question of how to get food, but Jack silently sighed in relief. After a good night's sleep in a warm bed, he was sure he would think of something.
….
The Imperial Hotel did not live up to its name, although it was not the worst place Jack had stayed. The paint was old but intact. The floorboards squeaked. There was a general air of shabbiness about the place, but it was clear—and more importantly, it was warm.
The room they were shown to was small—tiny, by Rose's standards. There was a closet, a table and chair, and a bed that barely looked big enough to hold them both. A wave of exhaustion washed over Jack. Without hesitation, he began pulling off his shoes, eager to really sleep for the first time in days. Rose watched him strip while a jumble of emotions—fatigue, self-consciousness, and a spark of desire—fought within her. She slipped out of Cal's coat and her shoes but hesitated, her hands on the buttons of her dress. They were getting into bed together. This wasn't spontaneous, passion-fueled love-making; it was sleeping together, and that seemed almost more intimate.
"You all right?" he asked, folding his shirt over the chair.
"Jack, will you help me?"
"Yeah."
She swept her hair aside. His fingers moved quickly. She sighed as the dress slipped to the floor. Jack's hands lingered for a moment on her back. "Was that all you needed?" he asked, finally.
"Yes."
He bent down and kissed her neck, sending a shiver down her spine. Rose sucked in her breath, shocked by the force of her response. Before she could move, he was gone, climbing into bed. She hesitated for a moment before shedding the rest of her clothing and following him.
He fit perfectly in her arms, his face against her neck. She held him tightly, one hand in his hair. Her eyes burned. "I'm so tired," she said, yawning. Jack nuzzled her neck. "Don't think," he said. "Just go to sleep. Everything's all right now."