CHAPTER TWO

The Carparthia Part I


April 15, 1912


"I was wondering if you'd end up like this," a voice said. Rose opened her eyes, her vision blurry, until Debbie's kind, round face swam into view. "The doctor's here Miss."

"Oh, um, thank you Debbie," Rose said, yawning. She nudged Jack gently, and his eyes opened slowly. "Wake up Jack." She tried not to think of the last time she had to wake him up, and how she had feared that he wouldn't.

"Doctor's here?" Jack mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Rose smiled and climbed out of bed, her bare feet touching the cold floor. She missed the warmth of the bed, and Jack lying next to her, but knew she'd be returning to it soon enough. Besides, their health came first.

Rose saw a thin, tall man standing behind Debbie. "Hello, I'm Rose," she stuck out her hand and the man shook it. "Rose Dawson." She liked the way Jack's surname rolled off her tongue, and she was sure it would soon become second nature. As far as she was concerned, Rose Dewitt Butaker had died on the Titanic; Rose Dawson, meanwhile, had survived.

The doctor pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. "I'm Doctor Wright. How are you feeling today Rose?"

"I'm as well as I can be," Rose answered, as Jack joined her side and took her hand in his. "This is my husband, Jack." It felt so nice to say it, Rose could only imagine how wonderful it would be to say it once it was true.

"Nice to meet you," Jack greeted, and he and the doctor shook hands.

"I'm here to do a diagnosis, so I'm going to list symptoms, and if you've experienced any of them, please let me know. Has there been any shivering, or fevers? Coughing, or shortness of breath, usually going up or down stairs? Clumsiness?" Doctor Wright said.

"Jack was shivering earlier today," Rose said. "And he needed some help getting down the stairs. I was a little short of breath myself, and I have a bit of a cough." She looked to Jack for confirmation of the symptoms. "I'm not sure if either of us have fevers."

"It seems like you have pneumonia, Mrs. Dawson. As for Mr. Dawson, he seems to have a case of hypothermia. Both can be treated, and I can prescribe some medicine. A relief fund is being collected to help the survivors in the aftermath of the sinking, so you won't have to worry about the money, for now at least," Doctor Wright explained. "We can also check for fevers, if you'd try this thermometer."

Rose was reminded of childhood visits to the family physician, as she stuck the thermometer under her tongue. It was uncomfortable, but not as uncomfortable after one visit to the doctor, upon which her mother had decided she was getting too chubby, and that it was time for Rose to start wearing corsets. God almighty those things were awfully tight. Rose was glad to be free of them at last.

"You can take the thermometers out now," Doctor Wright instructed, and Rose did as he said, and handed hers over to the doctor. Doctor Wright examined them. "It seems like you, Mrs. Dawson, have a slight fever, but with proper medication and bed rest you should make a quick recovery. As for you, Mr. Dawson, your case is more extreme I'm afraid. Your illness will take longer to wait out, however, but you should make a full recovery. I have to ask, were you in the water for very long?"

"We went down with the ship," Jack said tiredly. "And ended up in the water, and we looked for a piece of wood, or something to float on. We found some sort of door. I helped Rose onto it, and then tried to get on myself... but my weight was too much, so I stayed in the water..." His voice shook slightly and Rose gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

She felt tears prick at her eyes. "Two hours, I guess. Maybe three?"

Doctor Wright studied them for a moment. "It's miraculous you both survived," he said, giving them a sad smile.

Rose hurriedly wiped her eyes, glancing at Jack and he tightened his grip on her hand. "I know."


Doctor Wright prescribed some medication, and Debbie brought them some dinner. "Some toast will be easy on the stomach," the nurse said, handing over the meal. Rose knew she should be starving, but she couldn't even finish more than one piece of toast. After dinner, Rose crawled back into bed.

"Even though we're ill, can we still share a bed?" Rose asked Debbie. The nurse would know best, but Rose didn't want Jack to get any sicker, even if she would miss lying beside him.

"In sickness and in health," Debbie reminded her, smiling. "You two should be fine. Good night Rose, Jack." She gave them a small wave before turning off the lights and heading up the stairs.

Rose snuggled into her pillow, pulling the sheets high over herself as Jack climbed into bed beside her. Rose laced her fingers through his, caressing his hands. Jack kissed her forehead. "We'll be here for another day or two," Jack said, looking at her tenderly. "But then, what do you want to do?"

"Travel... but we need money to do that, don't we?" Rose said softly. Now that the idea of her new life, of her dream of being poor but free was being realized, Rose also knew she had to be practical.

"A little bit, yes. Fabrizio..." he trailed off, his eyes growing sad at the thought of his friend whom he had probably lost. Jack swallowed hard and then plowed on. "And I, we used to travel everywhere, but there were a lot of nights we went hungry, or weren't in the safest of areas. I don't want you to have to go through that."

Rose gave him a soft kiss. "Thank you Jack. To be honest though, I can't wait to start working."

Jack thought that she couldn't help but say that now, when she had never worked a day in her life, but thought back to a conversation aboard the Titanic. And I'm sick of people telling me what dreams I should and should not have, Rose had said angrily, when Jack had said she wouldn't last two days as a member of the lowest class. He didn't want to upset her, and Rose had proven just how tough she was when it came to saving him with that ax below decks.

"So, what job do you want to do?" he said instead. If they were going to be together, he would have to give her the benefit of the doubt, and support her, especially when she struggled. There would definitely be some sort of adjustment period; a person simply wasn't used to going from riches to rags in a day or two, after all.

Rose beamed at him. "Realistically, a seamstress, I've always liked sewing. Or something to do with art. I'm a good actress, of course." Rose's smile faded. "Mother never knew the extent of how... how I was suffering."

"I'm sorry Rose," Jack pulled her closer to him.

"It's not your fault," she said softly.

Jack kissed her forehead. "What was your father like?"

Rose smiled ruefully. "He was a good man, a kind one. Mr. Andrews reminded me of him, a bit. He saw the fire I had in me, and he didn't try to stomp it out like mother. But he died when I was fifteen, and he made some bad investment deals. There wasn't a lot of money left in the will. Mother refused to stop living her lavish lifestyle, and then it all ran out. We could have gotten by, if she had been more frugal. But that's why she forced me to be with Cal, for the money. I never wanted to marry him."

"I'm so sorry Rose. My parents, we were poor, but they always supported me. My mother especially, she always encouraged me about my art." Jack tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, giving her a small smile.

"How did they die, Jack?" Rose asked softly.

"My mother was never in good health. She passed away when I was fifteen, and it seemed like my dad died of a broken heart. He passed away shortly afterwards. Then I left Chippewa Falls behind. It's a tiny town, not much opportunity, especially for an artist. Besides, the house was too full of memories. I wouldn't mind going back someday, though."

"Is it a good place to raise a family?" Rose said, her voice slightly hesitant.

Jack looked at in surprise, and then smiled widely at her. "Yeah, it is." He leaned in and captured her lips with his, and she responded with equal enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. When Jack pulled away, his eyes were full of love for her. "I love you Rose," he said breathlessly. He knew as long as he lived, he would never get tired of saying those words. "I love you. I love you so much."

"I love you, Jack," Rose replied, giving him another kiss. "I love you more than anything," she murmured against his lips. He was the one person in the entire world who understood her, believed in her, and truly, deeply loved her. He had saved her, she realized, in every way that a person could be saved: in mind, in body, in soul. Rose reluctantly pulled away, feeling short of breath and her heart short of bursting at the seams with love. "Thank you Jack."

"For what?" Jack cupped her face, bringing their foreheads together. All Rose could see were his eyes; they were all she wanted to see, and she saw herself in their reflection, all the good pieces of herself, so, so loved by the man holding her heart in his hands.

"For everything," she whispered, kissing him again. It was a briefer one, less passionate and sweeter. "We should probably get to bed," she said once she had pulled away. She settled under the sheets, resting her head on the pillow, letting out a soft giggle when Jack pulled her closer to him, and she laid there happily cocooned in his side.

"G'night Rose," Jack murmured into her hair.

"Good night Jack," she smiled.


April 16, 1912


Sunlight hit her face, which Rose thought was odd, seeing as how the blinds her room should have blocked it out, or her mother would have come to wake her up. Then Rose remembered where she was, warm and wrapped up in blankets and Jack's strong arms, and smiled to herself, rolling over so she could face him. Jack was still sleeping soundly, a few strands of his hair falling over his face. Gently, Rose brushed them back, looking at him fondly, feeling a rush of love for him.

If every morning waking up next to him would feel like this, she could gladly get used to it. The sunlight shifted and Jack's beautiful blue eyes fluttered open. He smiled sleepily at her. "Morning," he yawned. Rose combed her hands through his hair.

"Good morning," she kissed him quickly. Jack's arms were draped over her waist, his hands linked at the small of her back. It made her feel so protected and safe, like for once she had a chance to breathe. So much had happened in the past few days since she had boarded the Titanic; it felt nice to know that for now, things were slowing down.

"So what are our plans for today? I know I wouldn't mind some fresh air," he suggested, "and I doubt your mother or Cal will come down to the Steerage level."

"Some fresh air sounds nice," Rose agreed, yet disentangled herself from him and the bed sheets with difficulty. She had to keep reminding herself that now, they had all the time in the world to be together. They didn't have to worry about her mother, or Cal, or even Cal's valet, Lovejoy, bursting their bubble of happiness. Rose could remember walking back to First Class after the steerage party, and seeing a shooting star.

Aren't we supposed to wish on it? Rose had asked Jack. Why, what would you wish for? Rose's eyes had flickered down to his lips and then back up to his eyes, knowing that in two days' time when the ship would dock at New York, whatever had started between her and Jack would be finished. Something I can't have, she had answered.

Only now she could. Jack was hers; her life was hers. It was beautiful and exciting and terrifying, all at once.

She pulled on her shoes, which were still damp from the morning prior, and once Jack was ready, she grabbed his hand and they walked up the stairs together. She felt wide awake, yet knew the burst of energy was only temporary, and that Jack would need to go back to bed fairly soon. For now though, she was determined to enjoy herself.

Once they had reached the deck, Rose coughed a bit into her arm, but then smiled and looked around. It was a beautiful April day with blue skies, the breeze rolling off the water cold yet refreshing. She leaned out over the rail, and could make out the faint skyline of New York City. "Look at that Jack," she pointed, grinning at him as he saw the skyline. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Almost as beautiful as you," Jack replied. Rose blushed, resting her head on his shoulder. "It makes me want to draw something."

"Oh that's right, your sketchbook..." Rose said sadly. It had gone down with the ship. "Well, that's one of the first things we'll have to buy. Speaking of money, I was thinking, do you think we'd be able to sell my dress?" The flowing blue and pink dress would surely get a nice sum, but she wasn't sure if the water had ruined it or not. Their old clothes weren't fully dry yet, but Rose was sure they would be soon enough.

"It might be too messed up," Jack said thoughtfully. "But we'll figure something out." He glanced around, his eyes lighting up with an idea. "Hey Rose, wanna go to the stern of the ship with me?"

"For old time's sake?" Rose guessed.

She laughed as Jack led her along to the back of the ship, and they walked slowly, hand-in-hand, just enjoying the weather. It took them at least 20 minutes for them to reach the stern and she stepped onto the railing easily, Jack's hands resting on each side of her waist. It wasn't quite the same feeling as on the Titanic - her heart wasn't pounding fiercely in her chest, nor was she realizing that she'd had fallen head over heels for Jack, or that she wasn't going back to her mother and Cal - but the same element of freedom was there, and the wind that was blowing back her hair was there.

And Jack. Jack would always be there.

She turned her head to the side so he could kiss her, but was surprised at how warm his lips were. A fever, or was he finally warming up? Was the cold finally leaving them both? Jack had said he loved her fire (had that really only been less than two days ago? It felt like a lifetime) and now, was it finally burning, ignited by the spark he had given her?

"I'm flying Jack," she whispered, her voice soft but confident. And with him by her side, she knew she would never have to come down.

Jack beamed at her, and then tried to stifle a yawn; Rose caught it anyway. "Still a little tired," he confessed. Slowly, he stepped down off the railing, holding one of Rose's hands aloft as she did the same. "I'm fine to keep walking, just maybe not fine enough to keep flying."

"Fine enough to talk?" Rose wondered, as they headed back towards the main part of the deck. "After all, there's still so much we have to learn about each other. I want to know every single thing there is to know about you Jack."

Jack took a seat next to the railing, Rose settling into his arms, sitting in between his legs as he wrapped his arms around her waist. The deck was fairly empty, except for a few officials and survivors from the lifeboats. It was hardly an appropriate position in public, but Rose couldn't have cared less. "Where do you want to start?" Jack asked her.

"Hmm. First memory?"

"My mom was showing me a flower, she loved to do gardening... The flower was a rose." Jack kissed the top of her head, and Rose felt a great swelling of affection for him. "What's your first memory?"

"I was throwing a tantrum because I wanted to wear a lavender dress and mother didn't want me to," Rose explained.

"You had that fire in you from the start," Jack said admiringly.

"Okay, favourite colour?"

"It used to be blue," Jack tucked a curl of Rose's fiery hair behind her ear, "but now I think it's red. Yours?"

"Lavender, I think," Rose answered. "First thing you ever drew?"

"That's hard, I'll have to think. It was probably a family portrait, of my parents and I. Incomplete one, of course, 'cause you weren't in it." Jack smiled sadly. "They would have loved you Rose. My father would have thought you were way out of my league, which you are, and my mother would have been so proud of me for having such a lovely lady fall for me."

"Your parents sound wonderful, Jack..." Rose grew slightly hesitant, but continued on anyways. "I'd love to visit their graves with you. Chippewa Falls could be our first place we travel to."

"Then the pier in Santa Monica?" Jack said, nodding, and Rose knew he had taken her idea to heart.

"And you can teach me how to ride like a man," Rose said, chuckling. Jack laughed. "And chew tobacco like a man, and spit like a man - oh, that reminds me! Jack, you'll love this." She had to control her giggling to get the words out. "When I left mother and Cal at the lifeboats, to save you, Cal tried to stop me and he grabbed my arm." Jack frowned; he hated knowing that Cal had hurt her, emotionally at the very least, and he wouldn't put it past Cal to hit Rose either. And it sounded like Rose had given up a place on a lifeboat, twice, for him. "So I hawked it all up and spit it right in his face!"

Jack had to laugh at that. "I imagine his face was priceless."

"Amazing," Rose confirmed, her giggles dying down. "Alright, let's keep going. Best memory?" As Jack opened his mouth, Rose cut him off, "Besides meeting me."

Jack laughed again. "You know me so well Rose." She smiled. Rose did feel like she knew him better now, or least she knew more details. She knew his heart, his soul, how kind and brave and loving he was. How did you find out I didn't do it? He had asked of his framed theft. I didn't. I just realized I already knew. She knew him, the important parts. Everything else was a little detail, but she'd love it all just the same.

"Well, now I actually have to think," Jack paused. "It was probably the first time I ever sold one of my drawings. To realize that someone actually wanted something I created was a great feeling. Other than that, it'd have to be when you said you'd changed your mind, and that you wanted to be with me too."

"You're too sweet," Rose smiled, kissing him on the cheek. Jack seemed surprised at the new contact, as she had never done it before, but very pleased at the same time. Rose giggled at his mixed expression. "Mine would have to be... my father teaching me how to dance as a little girl. Or maybe dancing at the Steerage party with you."

"D'you think you'll be a dancer?" Jack said. "I know you said you'd like to be an artist, or a sculptor, or a moving picture actress."

"It's going to be so hard to choose," Rose said, grinning. It felt so freeing to know after years of those dreams being only fantasies, she could make them into a reality.

"Why not all of them?" Jack suggested.

"Something I'll definitely consider," Rose said, but it was clear she wasn't making up her mind just yet. She yawned, suddenly feeling quite tired. They had been out almost the whole morning. "We should probably go back to bed, get some rest." She climbed out of his arms, and turned around to see him still sitting there.

"Help me up?" Jack asked, his expression pained. "My legs are feeling a little weak."

Rose took his hands and pulled him to his feet. "I think some rest will be good for you," she said worriedly. She helped him to the stairs, and then into bed. She kissed his forehead - he was burning up, which did nothing to ease her worries - and pulled the covers up to his chin. "I'm going to go get Debbie, alright? I'll be right back."

"I'll just wait here," Jack muttered, and Rose laughed shakily. "What, too soon?"

"Always too soon," she scolded him, and then went to get Debbie. She found the nurse in one of the side rooms, restocking medicine. Debbie was kind enough to recommend some medicine on top of the medication she and Jack were already taking, giving Rose a small blue bottle.

"Give him two pills of this with some water," Debbie had explained. "And then again at night. That should get the fever to die down."

Rose grabbed a glass of water before heading back to Jack's bedside. He seemed to be almost asleep, but he gave her a sleepy smile. "Take this," she handed him two pills and the glass of water. Jack frowned - he must have hated the way pills tasted, Rose knew she did - but did as she said anyway. "Feel any better?" she said hopefully.

"It'll take a little longer for it to set in," Jack said. Rose rolled her eyes.

"I know that, just..." she brushed his hair off his hot forehead, resting her hand on it. Her palm was cool against his burning skin. "I just want you to get better soon. I hate the fact you're suffering like this because of me... we could have taken turns, on the door, but-"

"Rose." Jack sat up straight, enveloping her hands in his own, forcing her to look him in the eye. "I love you. From the sound of it, you gave up your safety and put your life on the line twice for me. It's only fair for me to do it at least once. I knew the risk I was taking, I - I knew my chances of making it were slim. And even if I knew I would die with absolute certainty, I'd do it all over again. I love you. You jump, I jump, right?"

"Right," Rose said, crying freely. What she had done to have such a wonderful man love her so deeply, she'd never know, but she would be eternally grateful for it.

"Good," Jack said, the fight going out of him. "Now," he yawned. "I know I'm going to fall asleep soon, but stay with me?" Rose gripped his hand tightly, her eyes softening as Jack already started to doze off.

"Always. I'll never let go," she promised, her voice radiating warmth and affection. Jack smiled sleepily at her, and was soon sleeping soundly, and Rose knew, somehow, that he'd be just fine. They both would. They had each other, after all.