Jack knelt by the bathtub, his shirt unbuttoned, and his suspenders dangling lazily at his hips. He dipped his hand in the water to test it. Satisfied that it was not too hot, he stood up and removed his shirt, tossing it carelessly on the floor. He unzipped his pants and pulled them off, casting them aside. Now that he was no longer dressed, Jack began to shiver. The bathroom was cold and drafty.

He tested the water's temperature once more, this time with his toes. The water felt good as he inched his way down into it, enjoying the sensation of the hot water as it caressed his aching muscles. A rough cough erupted from his throat as he settled into the tub. He leaned back further, causing his knees to jut out of the water.

Jack reached over and took the sponge, dipped it in the warm water, and squeezed it onto his chest. The water felt good as it trickled down his skin. His coughing subsided a bit. He closed his eyes and lay there a few minutes contemplating; his thoughts drifting to when he first kissed Rose…

Rose was so beautiful standing on the rail with her arms raised. He had wanted to share this with no one else but her. He remembered how her long red hair blew all around her and the soft touch of her hand as he intertwined his fingers with hers…

"Come Josephine in my flying machine. Going up she goes, up she goes…"

She slowly turned her head to face him. He looked into her eyes and knew this was the woman that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with… slowly his lips touched hers with such passion and emotion that it made his heart jump. It was an indescribable feeling, one he had never felt before, and he knew it was a feeling he could only have for Rose. He smiled as he recalled her words on board Titanic:

"I'm flying, Jack…" he could hear her say…

He smiled thinking about their first kiss; he could still feel her lips softly brushing against his, the warmth of her mouth as it pressed against his, and in that sensational moment, he felt he could fly. They were really flying, but on the wings of their hearts.

From the moment Jack first saw Rose on Titanic's deck, he knew it was love; and this kiss sealed his fate. His heart could love no other. Rose was the woman for him.

Jack inched down deeper into the tub, as the memories swam through his thoughts. He was back on Titanic; the image of Rose coming down the grand staircase came into focus in his mind.

He had to look twice at the beauty descending the staircase. He remembered sucking in his breath; she looked radiant. Was he dreaming? He had to reach out and touch her to assure himself that it was real. He kissed her gloved hand and smiled. This was no dream; it was very real.

He was standing before the most incredible woman he had ever met. His heart pounded wildly against his chest as he gazed into her blue-green eyes.

Jack slowly opened up his eyes. Rose, I miss you so much… He felt incomplete without her. Every second they were apart, his heart ached. What I wouldn't give to see you, right now… to hold you in my arms and feel the warmth of your kiss against my lips. I love you, Rose, with my whole heart and soul.

Rose looked lovingly upon Jack's photograph. She traced the outline of his face with her fingertips. A single tear ran down her cheek as she pressed her lips to the picture and planted a soft kiss on the image. She carried many memories of him in her heart, but this photo was the only solid evidence she had left that he was real.

Her time with Jack was like a dream, something out of reach and yet within her grasp. She closed her eyes as she remembered the feel of his kisses, his caresses, but most of all, she recalled the time they made love.

He did not force her at any point; he was aware of what she would permit and allowed her to be the guide. She smiled at the beautiful memory he left behind. She could still remember the smell of his scent on her skin, how his hands slowly caressed her body, and his gentle but passionate lovemaking.

He was not only a tender lover but also a gentleman in more ways than most of the upper class society. They could only hope to achieve the elegance and style that Jack had. His charm was sincere, from the heart. No amount of education or ettiquette could teach her society those kinds of manners.

She held the picture against her bosom and closed her eyes. Sleep threatened to overtake her. A small smile appeared on her lips as her dream formed. Tonight she would dream about Jack. For she knew that in her dreams, not even death could separate them.

Anne entered the parlor and placed fresh flowers on one of the small tables. She then began to dust the various photographs that decorated the walls and mahogany tables. Redfield sat in an armchair, reading the latest edition of the newspaper.

Without glancing up at her, he asked. "Has Jack eaten his supper yet?"

She shook her head, "No, not yet. I left the tray in his room. I believe he was still taking a bath."

Before the doctor had a chance to respond, there was a knock at the front door. Redfield immediately stood up. "I bet that's a patient. Anne, bring me my bag. I'll meet you at the door."

"Yes, doctor."

Redfield grabbed his coat as he headed toward the front door. Another series of knocks erupted, echoing down the long hallway. "I'm coming," he announced.

He opened the door and saw two women standing on his front porch. They huddled under an umbrella, trying to take cover from the rain. One of the women, a brunette, held an elegantly wrapped package in her hands. Although she was dressed in black, she wore a heartfelt smile. Dark locks of hair escaped from underneath her elaborate hat.

The other woman… she seemed familiar…Redfield studied her face. Her complexion was a bit pale, her eyes were somber, and he could detect a great sadness coming from within. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose bun.

Redfield's brow creased as he tried to recollect where he had seen her.

She could feel her legs shaking beneath her as she spoke his name, "Hello, James… I mean, Dr. Redfield," she said as calmly as she could.

His eyes widened as he recognized the voice. He knew that voice!

"R—Ruth?" he asked a bit unsure.

She nodded in response.

"Oh my, is it really you?" he gasped, suppressing the urge to reach out and touch her to see if she was real.

"Yes, James." Ruth paused. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too."

Their eyes locked. Words unspoken hung in the air between them. It had been far too long…

The other woman cleared her throat, "Ahem… I'm Margaret Brown, but you can call me Molly. I'm a friend of Ruth's here."

"What? Oh! Yes, yes… pleased to meet you," he replied a bit embarrassed.

"Sorry we didn't call before we arrived," Molly said. "Seems this rain has got the phone lines all messed up."

"Oh, that's quite alright. Please, come in," he said, stepping aside.

He looked behind him and saw Anne with the medical bag. "I won't be needing my bag." He turned to face his guests, "This is Ruth DeWitt Bukater and her good friend, Margaret Brown."

"How do you do," Anne said, nodding in acknowledgement. "Here, let me take your coats. Would you like anything? Some coffee or tea, perhaps?"

"Some hot tea will do just fine," Molly replied as she gave the woman a smile.

"I read that you have become quite a good doctor," Ruth said, feeling proud of his accomplishments.

"I try and help people," he answered modestly.

"Please, have a seat." Redfield indicated the adjoining room with a wave of his hand.

Ruth and Molly took in the richly furnished parlor. The scent of freshly cut flowers filled the room. The cream colored furniture added an extra elegance to the room, in contrast to the dark green walls and drapes.

Ruth wore a thin smile as she turned to James, "Your home seems quite lovely. Your wife must be very proud."

Redfield shook his head and grinned, "I'm not married."

Ruth looked at him in shock for a moment. "You're not?" she asked surprised.

"No," he answered simply.

Molly smiled to herself as she overheard the conversation. She tried to preoccupy herself by looking at the various photographs displayed throughout the room. She found one of what looked to be a young Doctor Redfield. "Hey, is this you in this picture?"

Redfield took a look at the photograph. "Yes, it is."

"Why, you were quite the handsome devil."

Redfield laughed softly, "I don't know about that…"

Ruth managed a small laugh, "If I remember correctly, he had half a county swooning over him. I remember one girl in particular… a Miss Amber Montgomery," she said with raised eyebrows.

Redfield shook his head and continued to laugh, "Amber? Dear heavens, I haven't heard that name in years…"

"I thought for sure you would've ended up married to her."

"No, I was absorbed in my studies at the time. She did eventually marry, and last I heard, she has five healthy boys. I helped deliver her youngest… I lost touch with her once she moved to Chicago."

"Oh," Ruth whispered.

Anne entered the room rolling a cart that contained a white porcelain tea set and an assortment of pastries. As Anne began to serve them tea, James changed the subject. "I would ask what brings you here, but I think I know the answer to that question. You want to know about Jack."

"Yes, that is correct. I would like an audience with him, if I may." Ruth paused as her brow creased with concern. "He is all right, isn't he?"

"He'll be all right. He's still a bit ill and—"

"How ill?" Ruth interrupted, her voice filled with alarm. "It's not serious?" Ruth looked at Redfield with fear. She remembered how feeble and weak Jack looked when she last saw him on board the Carpathia. It was not uncommon for people to die of pneumonia, and tuberculosis could kill its victims within days or even hours. Jack had been in the water for a long time; perhaps not even Redfield's medical expertise could save him.

Redfield placed his hand over hers, in a sign of comfort. He turned to Anne, "Would you be so kind as to inform Jack that we have company and ask him to come downstairs?"

"Right away, doctor."

He looked warmly at Ruth, "You see? Jack is strong enough to be walking around. He seems to have something… or should I say someone to live for. He's fighting hard to rid himself of the symptoms. And I do believe he will win." James flashed her a smile.

At the touch of his hand on hers, Ruth felt her face flush, and she turned around so that no one would take notice. "Mr. Dawson is out of danger then?"

"Yes, the worst is over," he assured her.

"It's just that I'm concerned about him. He's the only one who can make my Rose happy."

"Well, he has a nasty cough, but with the medicine I have administered to him, he should be quite all right in a few days. He just needs some rest."

"Well, sounds like Dr. Redfield is optimistic about the lad's recovery," Molly said brightly.

"Indeed," James agreed. "He certainly is a determined young man."

"In what way?" Ruth asked, sipping her tea.

"He has been going insane trying to find any news of your daughter, Rose. He was devastated at the thought that he may have lost her. The news will be a welcomed relief to him."

"Oh, poor thing," Molly said. "Well, he can rest assured that Rose is fine and healthy."

"Yes, thankfully so," Ruth said in a distant voice. "I feared I had lost my only child. I was lucky, James…. so many others… were not."

"I'm so sorry, Ruth," Dr. Redfield said kindly.

"Don't be. It was a valuable learning experience." Ruth's voice was filled with regret.

"Whatever do you mean?" Redfield's brow knitted in confusion.

Molly got up, sensing their need to talk privately. "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the ladies' room."

"Of course. It's down the hall a ways, to your left," James directed.

Ruth silently thanked her friend for the discretion. "I'm ashamed to confess that I'm not the woman you once knew…"

"Nonsense," he said, shaking his head gently.

"No," her eyes filled with tears, "It's true. I was unjust."

"Unjust? To whom?" he inquired gently.

"To my daughter…" her tears fell softly onto her cheeks. "And to Jack."

"Jack made mention of an uneasiness between you two. That is understandable; your daughter was engaged to another man. You were in an uncomfortable situation."

Ruth shook her head; "No… I was filled with rage and jealousy when I first saw Jack."

"But why?" he asked.

"He reminded me of…. of a past that could never be." She buried her face in her hands and wept. "I was doing to my own child what my father had done to me."

James took hold of her hands and gently pried them away from her face. "And now you want to undo the wrong you feel you have caused Rose and Jack?" He brushed her tears away softly with a handkerchief he took from his inside pocket.

"Yes, I want her to be happy. That's all that matters."

"You know, I've grown quite fond of Jack. He reminds me of myself so many years ago… almost like a son I never had." He paused. "I do know this much; Jack loves Rose very much." His eyes locked with hers once more.

"And Rose loves him more than anything," she whispered. "Rose was brave and risked so much to be by his side… things like society had little importance to her when it came to Jack."

"Their love is strong and nothing, not even time, can change the power of love," Dr. Redfield declared.

Ruth gasped at the meaning of his words. Her heart jumped. He did not have to say it, but she knew. He still loved her. Her tears turned to those of joy.

"Yes, I see that now."

Jack wrapped the towel around his waist, pulling on it as it slipped past his hips. There was a sudden knock on the bathroom door. He jumped and released his grip on the towel; it fell in a heap at his feet.

"Mr. Dawson," Anne's voice came through the door, "Company has just arrived. It's Mrs. DeWitt Bukater, and she wishes to speak with you."

"Umm, tell her… tell her, I'll be right there," he answered as he pulled the towel back around his waist.

Alright Jack, this is it… moment of truth; now you'll know if Rose is alive or not. He drew in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.