April 15th, 1912
They huddled together in a corner, sharing a blanket. Jack's arm was around her; he tried to block the cold with his body, but he was still shivering himself. The blanket just managed to fit around them, and he suspected it only did because Rose was curled up so tightly against him. Her head was on his shoulder; her arms were draped loosely around him. As soon as they had gotten settled they fell asleep, her body relaxing against his, as though that was all she needed to feel safe. And maybe it was. Or maybe, and Jack knew this was more likely, she was just that exhausted.
He looked down at her. Her breathing was regular, but heavy; he recognized the sound of an oncoming cold. He felt it in his own throat. A cold would be getting off easy, considering everything they'd gone through. They were lucky just to be alive. How many hadn't made it? Had anyone he knew survived? So far, he hadn't recognized anyone, but that didn't mean they weren't onboard somewhere. He hadn't exactly investigated the matter. Guilt gnawed at him. He should've checked.
But he would, later. Right now, he had to keep Rose warm; he couldn't leave her alone. And he was so tired. He rested his cheek against her hair. It was almost dry. Jack pulled the blanket up, covering her head. He wished there was a way to cover his own, but at least he wasn't shivering so much anymore. Slowly, warmth crept over him. It wasn't much, but for now, it was enough.
...
Jack awoke with a start. His heart pounded. His legs were stiff; his neck hurt. The sun was in his eyes. When had it gotten so bright? How long had he been asleep? He glanced at Rose. She was still asleep. Her breathing had grown heavier. He touched her face. She was still deathly pale, but warmer now. "Your hands are cold," she whispered.
"Sorry," he whispered back. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"Have I been asleep long?"
"Awhile, I think," he replied. "I'm not sure."
"Did you sleep?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. I didn't mean to."
"You needed it. You probably need rest more than I do," she said.
She moved to sit up, but he stopped her. "Rose, you don't have to-"
"I need to stretch," she said. "And it isn't fair to expect you to hold me all day." She offered him a smile. "It wasn't fair to fall asleep on you. Your arm must be aching."
"It's alright. Here," he said, holding the blanket around her shoulders. "Take it."
"I thought we were sharing?"
"We are." Jack slipped his arm around her, under the blanket. "See?" He pulled the other end across himself. "Sharing."
"You're still so pale, Jack." Rose pressed his hands between hers. "And your hands are so cold. Mine aren't big enough to warm them," she added ruefully.
"You're doing a pretty good job," he said.
"Jack..." she began. Her eyes were somber. "I..." Her voice faltered.
"What's wrong? You can tell me, Rose."
"Jack, I'm so sorry about what happened last night. I feel rather stupid, not to mention ashamed. I shouldn't have let that happen."
" ..." Jack searched for a reply. Her meaning was obvious, and he couldn't believe he hadn't expected this. Of course she would regret it. Now that things had calmed down, why wouldn't she? Everything had happened so quickly; there wasn't time to think; she had his hand, and she was pulling him along, running, laughing, and then, kissing her, smoke all around them, his lips on her neck-Jack blushed at the memory of what came next. Had it all happened only the night before? It felt like so much longer.
"I don't blame you," he said. His eyes met hers. "I understand. It-It was a lot. I should've done something. I just-I thought it was what you wanted. Rose, if I-"
"Jack, what are you talking about?" she asked.
"What happened last night. Between us," he said. "I shouldn'tve let you do something you'd regret."
"I don't regret any of that," she said.
"You don't?"
Rose shook her head. "No, Jack. How could you think I did?"
"Well, you said-"
"I meant what happened with Cal. I'm sorry I insisted we go back," she explained. "I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. So much was going through my mind, and somehow, I honestly believed it would be alright. I could walk back in there, tell him what I intended to do, and then I'd do it." She laughed wryly. "I felt untouchable as long as you were with me."
"I wouldn't let him hurt you."
"But that's just it," she said. "He didn't want to hurt me, at least, not before he hurt you." Rose laid her hand on his cheek. "He expected me to come back eventually. He planned for it. I doubt he thought it would be so easy." Her eyes were pleading. "Can you forgive me, Jack?"
"Rose, of course I can. You didn't know what was gonna happen."
"I should have anticipated something would," she argued. "Especially after-" She stopped herself.
"After what?"
"It doesn't matter," she said.
"Tell me," he pressed. "What did he do?"
"It wasn't that serious," she said. "It was just an incident yesterday, during breakfast."
"Did he hurt you?"
"No." She shook her head. "He scared me, but that's all. He knew I'd been with you. He had that valet of his find us. I'd never seen him like that before," she went on. "I suspected he had a temper, but this was different. I should've remembered that before taking you back there. I just thought it wouldn't happen again, and if we were together..." She sighed. "It was an awful, foolish mistake."
"It was a mistake," Jack said, hugging her closer. "But I agreed to it, remember? I'm not stupid, Rose. I knew what we were doing, who I was in that situation. Any guy would be angry. I just figured, why not get it out in the open if we were gonna stay together? I never expected a whole roomful of people to be waiting for us."
"Neither did I. Cal doesn't like scenes. But he also doesn't like doing things himself," she added. "Hence the elaborate plot."
"It wasn't that elaborate," Jack said drily. "Don't give him too much credit."
"Do you forgive me?"
"Of course I do," he said. "I was never mad at you, Rose."
"Not even when I just stood there and let it happen?"
"I wanted you to say something," he answered slowly. "I knew it wouldn't matter, but I hoped you would. After everything that had happened, you couldn't believe I'd do something like that. And you didn't"
"It took me long enough to realize that," Rose pointed out.
"Yeah, but you did. That's what matters."
"I didn't want to doubt you. I'm not sure I ever did. It was more like I doubted myself," she said. "The things I'd said and done up until that point. It was like I was watching myself from across the room, and suddenly, I realized I was on the verge of completely changing my life, and then this horrible thing was happening, and I was frozen. I wasn't strong enough on my own. I couldn't save you."
"But Rose, you did save me," he reminded her. "I wouldn'ta had chance without you. Whatever mistakes you made, you put it right."
"You can thank Cal for that," Rose said.
"What do you mean?"
"I might've let myself get pulled along until it was too late, but he kept picking at me. It was a shock when he hit me, but that-"
"He hit you?"
"Just once," she said. "And it wasn't hard." She tilted her head back. "See? There isn't even a mark."
"That's not the point!"
"Jack, it doesn't matter. It was the things he said that got to me. I finally understood he didn't care if you died because of his lies. He wasn't angry because he loved me and didn't want me to leave. He just wanted to show off his power. It was all so sordid," she said. "The things he and my mother were saying, as if thousands of lives weren't on the verge of being lost. As if they had no understanding of how anyone other than themselves would be affected."
"I'm sure they get it now," Jack said.
"I doubt it."
"Hey, don't be so glum." He kissed her. "We made it, didn't we?"
...
Rose's chest hurt when she breathed, but she didn't complain. She was congested, and her head hurt, and no matter how tightly Jack held her, she was still cold. He didn't mention it, but she could tell he wasn't any warmer. His eyes were bleary, his cheeks flushed. "Maybe they'll give us another blanket," she said. They'd only been offered one, back in the boat, but there hadn't been very many to go around. Jack had grabbed it without even asking for one of his own. "We can share," he'd said, wrapping it around them. "We'll be warmer that way." Now, she wondered if he really believed that, or if he just didn't want to take one.
"They must have more," she added.
"Are you cold?" he asked.
She nodded. "Aren't you?"
"I'm alright," he said.
"You're shivering," she argued. "Your hands are still cold."
"I've been warmer," he admitted. "But it's not so bad. Not after that water." He chuckled weakly against the memory of it. The pain was more intense than he'd remembered. He thought he knew what was coming, but those seconds in the lake were nothing compared to this. His father had reached in, grabbing him by the shirt, and pulled him out almost immediately. He didn't remember being wrapped in his father's coat and carried home, just pain and cold, and then finding himself by the fire.
At least he'd been out in the elements since then. He'd trudged through rain and snow, slept outside in all seasons, swum across cold rivers and warm lakes. His body had some idea of what to expect and knew how to handle exposure to hostile conditions. Rose had no defenses; she had nothing to prepare her, and, he feared, despite spending less time in the water, she wouldn't recover as quickly.
"Jack, please," she said.
"Alright. It looks like they're giving out food over there anyway," he said.
It was just a plain broth, and yet, Rose had never tasted anything more delicious. She drank greedily, hardly noticing as it burned her tongue and dripped down her chin. She didn't stop until the bowl was empty. "Here," Jack said, wiping her chin with his sleeve.
"Oh." Self-consciousness washed over her. "Thank you. I don't know what I was thinking. That wasn't-"
"Do you want mine?" he offered. There was no judgment in his eyes.
Rose smiled, suddenly warmed, though by his gesture or the soup, she didn't know. "You keep it," she said. "You need it."
"Switch bowls with me. I'll get another. And a blanket," he added.
"Will they give you more?"
"I think they will," Jack said confidently. "Go on. Drink mine."
When Jack reached the head of the line, the steward gave him a suspicious look. "Weren't you just in line?" he asked.
"Yeah, I was," Jack replied. "I thought maybe I could get another bowl?"
"Sorry. I can't do it. We have to be sure there's enough for everyone."
"I understand," Jack said. "I do. But it's for my wife." He tilted his head toward Rose, who was too absorbed by her current bowl to notice. "She's not doing so good." He lowered his voice. "And she's..." He tilted his head again, hoping the message was clear.
The other man glanced at Rose, and then back at Jack. "I can't be doing this a lot," he said.
"I won't ask again," Jack assured him. "Thank you. Really."
"You're welcome. Just don't tell anyone."
"I won't. I swear. And I hate to ask another favor, but do you think we could get another blanket? There's two of us, after all," Jack said.
"Fine. But that's it."
Jack carried the steaming bowl triumphantly, the blanket over his shoulder. "See?" he said. "Got it."
"How did you manage it?"
He shrugged. "Just had to ask."
"Really?"
"Really," he said. "It's not like I have anything to offer him."
"I didn't expect it to be so easy," she said. "But then again, you are rather charming when you want to be."
"Me? Charming?" Jack flashed a grin. "I had no idea you felt that way."
Rose smiled but rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you didn't."
...
They were back in their corner, one blanket across their shoulders, the other wrapped around their legs. Rose leaned against Jack's shoulder, her arms around his waist. His arm was draped around her, the other holding the blanket together. They shared them at her insistence. Jack would've preferred she use the extra one, but he didn't push it. He refused to take Cal's coat, however, arguing she needed it more because of her thin dress.
"Your clothes aren't much thicker," Rose pointed out. "And besides, I have you keeping me warm." Her lips trembled as she spoke. He leaned over and kissed her in a vain attempt to stop it.
"I'm fine," he said reassuringly. "You're keeping me warm too."
Rose closed her eyes and hugged him tighter. "I wish you would take it," she murmured.
"Don't worry. We'll off this ship and somewhere nice and warm before you know it," he said. "Just rest for now."
"I'll stay awake this time." But her voice was already faint.
"You don't have to, Rose," he said, pressing his lips to her hair. "Sleep if you need to."
...
Rose slept soundly, but Jack drifted in and out, his head snapping up at every sound. They had nothing to fear from either their fellow survivors or the ship's crew. That should have been enough to relax him, but it wasn't because although he hadn't seen Cal since the shooting attempt, Jack knew he was somewhere onboard. He felt it. Sooner or later, Cal would make his presence known, and he needed to be ready when it happened.
As it turned out, he didn't have long to wait. He was just drifting off again when he heard a voice say, "There's none of yours down here, sir. It's all steerage." It was the steward who had given him the extra soup. He didn't hear the reply, if there was one. Jack slid down and turned, so he was facing away from anyone who approached. He pulled Rose onto his lap, keeping the blanket over her face. He covered his own head and waited as the footsteps drew closer.
They were just inches away when they stopped. Jack held his breath, hoping Rose wouldn't wake up. He didn't know what he'd if forced to confront Cal, and he didn't care to find out. Jack heard a sigh, and then Cal stepped past them. Slowly, Jack lifted his head and peeked out, making sure to keep most of his face covered. Cal was off to the side now. His jacket was torn, and his hair was in disarray. His expression was inscrutable, though Jack thought he detected sadness in his eyes. Was it for the survivors? For the dead? Was he thinking of Rose's fate, and his own hand in it? Jack wanted to believe that was it, but he suspected any sorrow Cal felt was mostly reserved for himself.
Jack watched him walk away. They weren't the only blanket-clad figures Cal had passed; he hadn't bothered to look closer at any of them. It was as if he didn't expect to find Rose-or perhaps, didn't care one way or the other-and was just fulfilling an obligation. Either way, Jack was disgusted by it.
Rose's voice was quiet. "May I come out now?"
He pulled back the blanket. "I didn't know you were awake," he said.
"I've only been awake a few minutes. Staying put seemed prudent, under the circumstances."
"How'd you know he was here?" he asked.
"You told me. You were so tense," she replied. "And why else would you be hiding me?"
"To keep warm?"
"Well, I must admit, it was warm under there," she said. "Though a bit hard to breathe."
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't want him to see us."
"I'm glad he didn't. That's-" Her words were swallowed by a harsh cough.
"Rose, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she said, fighting back another cough. Tears filled her eyes. Her face was pale, but her cheeks were red.
"You're hot. You probably have a fever. We should get you to a doctor. There has to be one onboard," Jack said.
"What about you? You're flushed. And cold."
Jack wrapped her in the blankets and lifted her as he stood up. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I'm going with you," he said.
"Jack, there's no need to carry me. I'm perfectly capable of walking."
But when she tried, her legs wobbled, and she had to cling to him for support. Sighing, she let him scoop her back up. "Shouldn't be too hard to find," he said optimistically.
AN: It has been a long time since I posted, and although I've wanted to update my stories, I either didn't have time or just wasn't sure where to take them next. Or both. I've had some time lately, and surprisingly, I've had a lot of ideas. I really enjoyed working on this first chapter, and I'm looking forward to writing more for a while. I hope you enjoy this story, and I do intend to try and finish everything, finally!