Rose looked at him, biting her lip as she shuffled the bills in her hands, and then stashed them under the jewelry box on the boudoir. Her emotions were all over the place, screaming at her to just run into his arms and let him rescue her again; to let him take her away from this place, from this life, but also to loathe him for what he had led her to. Not he specifically, but if it hadn't been for him she would have never dared to try and escape a life with Cal. She knew though that she still had Cal to blame, not Jack. Never Jack. She opted to stay where she was perched.
She let herself take in his whole appearance now. It had only been two years since that fateful night, but it seemed that the both of them had matured well beyond their years in that short time, both showing some wrinkles and worry lines at the tender ages of 19 and 22. Jack was still tall, tan, and blonde, but had lost most of his boyish lankiness, and grown more into a man. The muscles in his chest and arms appeared better defined, along with his chiseled jaw line, which was now sporting the stubble of a five-o'clock shadow, and there was a deep-set frown mark between his eyebrows. His hair, also, displayed a premature grey streak in the front, which she could only assume was a result of trauma and stress. In contrast, she felt as if she had reversed, and gotten less mature with the time, although she knew her appearance was more haggard.
She was much thinner, that she knew. She could count her ribs and vertebrae while standing up. There were no regular meals here, and more physical demands, and often the only way to cope was to turn towards drink or drug, with absinthe and laudanum being her go-to. Those at least kept her from feeling the hunger, or the pain, or from thinking at all. It kept the memories away, good and bad, except in dreams, and if she could help it she didn't sleep. She wouldn't. She couldn't. Not without ghosts. Unfortunately, since she had chased away sleep the night before, she knew that exhaustion would soon claim her, and now here was this man, this man whose death below the ocean and whose impact on her life she had dreamed about every night. He was right here in her quarters, and yet she could not bring herself to show any of her real emotions to him.
"You can stay here," she said finally, "for now. And I guess since you're the paying customer that means you get the bed. I'm taking the couch, and I don't want to be disturbed. I'm still hoping you'll change your mind, save us both the pain, and leave," she added coldly, cursing herself all the while. In truth she would be devastated if he walked back through that door. She wanted nothing more than to curl up next to Jack on that bed and have him hold her and kiss her demons away, but that wasn't possible. Not now; not after everything that had transgressed since Titanic. Not since Cal— she cut off her own thought with a rough pinch to the flesh of her wrist. She was sure Jack had caught it because his expression flashed from stubbornness to concern, but he nodded all the same, moving across the room toward the rag covered old bed.
Rose got up and padded to the other side of the room, taking the candle with her. Gingerly, she settled herself onto the tiny couch, using a balled up dress as a pillow, and closed her eyes, trying in vain to ignore the man across the room.
Hearing a noise, she opened them again, and took in a breath at the sight she was greeted with. Jack had his back to her near the bed, but had removed his white button down shirt. Even in the dim light she could see the ripple of muscles across his back as he moved, and knew that they likely continued along his chest and midsection. A suppressed part of her longed to trace those contours with her fingertips. As if sensing her eyes on him, Jack turned around, suspenders dangling from his hips, his eyes boring into hers questioningly. After a moment, he looked away, but walked closer. She stiffened, not knowing what he was going to do, and then relaxed slightly when he only blew out her candle.
She could hear him now settling into the creaky metal bed, but then he got up again. Seconds later she felt a woolen blanket settle over her small frame, and his voice came by her ear. She was frozen, stock-still.
"Now that I've found you, I'm not going to let a day go by that I don't tell you I love you. I never got the chance, before, and that is my biggest regret."
He leaned down then, and planted a soft kiss on her forehead, and as she bit her cheek it was all she could do to keep from crying.