Jack wakes in the early morning, his anxiety running high from a recurring nightmare to find that Rose has gotten up before him. He could smell coffee brewing in the kitchen, so sitting up and pulling on his pants, he follows his nose.

From the kitchen he can see Rose sitting on the back porch swing. She has a cup of coffee in her hand, and her curls, now back to their old shine, were blowing softly around the back of her neck. Jack pours himself a cup of coffee, adding some milk, and pushes through the screen door to join her.

The day is warm for early march; warm enough for the back porch to be enjoyable. The sun is just beginning to peek above the trees, and the birds were starting to make noise. Rose, with her eyes closed contentedly hasn't yet noticed Jack, so carefully setting down his mug on the small wooden table next to the swing, he moves behind her and gently massaged her neck.

She smiles warmly, eyes still closed. "Good morning, Jack."

"Good morning, Love." He quickly kisses her lips.

Grabbing his mug, he moves around the swing to settle in next to her, rocking it a bit.

Some time passes in silence, the two of them enjoying the morning. Jack lights a cigarette, and leans back, stretching his other arm over Rose's shoulder. After a while, Rose speaks, leaning her head on his shoulder.

"What are you thinking, Jack?

He doesn't answer right away. What is he thinking? He's thinking about how nice the day is. He was thinking about the way the light was hitting the trees. He was thinking about how the wind was playfully tugging at Rose's curls, and how beautiful she looks in his old shirt. He was thinking about how good everything was, and conversely, how bad things have been. He was thinking about Titanic, and everyone that perished. He was thinking about Fabrizio and Tommy, and little Cora. He was thinking about the daughter he would never know. He was thinking of hospitals, and whores' hovels; of absinthe bottles smashing against dirty walls, and of bruises and scars and sunken eyes. He was thinking of dirty politicians, and of Caledon Hockley.

"Are you okay, Rose? With everything that happened last night?" he decides to ask instead of answering.

"I am, Jack. I was scared. Afraid that it would bring back the past, but it didn't. I'm okay. I'm maybe a little sore, but I'm alright."

"Good. I never want to hurt you, Rose. Ever."

"I know, Jack."

"Rose?" Jack queries, hesitantly. He has had an idea eating away at the back of his mind for a while, but has been wary of bring it up. Perhaps now though, with quitting his work, and Rose starting to adjust to this new way of life, it's time to consider it.

"Yes, Jack?"

"There's something I want to do… Something I have to do. Only, I don't want to go alone."

"What's that, Jack?"

"I need to go home. I need to see what's left of it. And I need to see where Ma and Pop were buried. I never saw their graves. I ran before the funeral. I promised Fabrizio back in Europe that I would go back home and see them. I need to keep that promise. Would you go with me?"

"Jack, are you sure you would want me there?"

Jack kisses her forehead. "I don't think I can do it without you. I need to make peace with the past, Rose. Once I do that, then I know I can truly move forward with you."

"I understand, Jack. I've actually been thinking about making my own kind of peace. You said my mother lives with Molly now?"

Jack nods.

"I would like to see her."