March 1914

The day Jack and Rose woke up to a boxed-up apartment was a tepid spring day, perfect for heading out for the horizon. Rose was the first to wake, aways the lighter sleeper; and rather than roll out of bed and start the day, she kept her warm position curled up next to Jack, who began to stir shortly after.

"Moving day, huh?" he said, his voice crackling and in need of a warm up. "Pier life to farm life."

"We can still ride horses. And there's a lake," Rose pointed out, excited by their new adventure. As much as she loved Santa Monica, she always thought of her and Jack as wanderers, and was surprised by how long they'd stayed rooted in California; Josie's birth played a part in that, but she was a fairly easy baby to handle now, despite the constant nonsensical babbling and booming desire to crawl and explore.

As he stretched, Rose took the opportunity to rest her head on his chest, her red curls tumbling into his face. Sweeping her hair aside, Jack said, "Rose, we have to get up."

Rose moaned and tightened her grip on his waist. "Do we? We're so comfortable right now… Just a few more minutes?" She looked up at him with her bright blue eyes and brought her face closer to his, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. "Please?"

He couldn't deny her sweet voice, or her charming kisses, and so they lounged around for another half hour in a homely silence. Nearly nine months after Josephine was born, and they'd finally found their niche. Hopefully picking up their roots and moving across the country wouldn't shake that up all over again.

July 1913

Three weeks after her baby's arrival, Rose was exhausted. A part of her didn't want to do this anymore. Their perfect routine was entirely obliterated, their savings dangerously dipped into; their whole lives revolved around an unpredictable schedule made by one little person a mere twenty days old. As much as they had talked about how their lives were going to change, living in reality was a lot different—and it was driving Rose into a spiral.

Jack had more patience than her, and tried to pick up on as much of Josephine's needs as possible in an attempt to bother Rose less. But even his best efforts, and their strong desire to love their baby, wasn't enough to avoid the first big rift in their relationship.

It was 3AM one night, and Josephine was screaming. They were both awake, and both wondered how their fatigue wasn't enough to block out all external stimuli; they guessed the parental instinct was too potent to be turned off quite so easily. Rose stayed still and mumbled, "Jack, can you get her?"

Usually, Jack would have little to no problem getting up to soothe Josie's cries. Except this was the fifth night in a row that Rose was refusing to do her part, and there was a general sense that the stress caused by a newborn in the home was gnawing away at the hope for balanced parental duties—and Jack picked up on that sense a lot more strongly than Rose did.

"She may need you," he murmured back, not moving from his bedside.

Unexpectedly, Jack heard a sniffle, and a couple of jerky sobs erupted from Rose in conjunction with the baby's still unmet needs. She then quickly threw herself out of bed, still crying, and stormed out of the room in distress, mumbling, "I can't do this…"

As much as Jack selfishly wished to go back to sleep, there was no way he could leave Rose alone after that exit. So he got up and followed her to the living room, where she was pacing in the kitchen rather than looking after Josephine.

Jack took that opportunity while he was out of bed and still in his right mind (unlike Rose, who may have lost hers) to pick up Josie and cradle her over his shoulder, soothing her. A mixed bag of emotions battled inside him now, with worry and anger in the lead; after all, he'd never seen Rose ignore Josie like that before, and he hadn't seen her break down like that since he talked her down the night they first met. "Rose, what are you doing?"

Rose kept pushing her hair back behind her ears and putting her forehead in her hands, shaking her head. "I can't do this, Jack."

"Do what?"

"This! Be a parent! I can't. Look at me… I'm obviously not capable. This was a mistake…"

The worry inside Jack started winning the battle over his anger and frustration, and he shelved them to process later when he was in a more restful state (whenever that would be). "Oh, Rose… That's not true. You've been amazing, but of course it's going to be hard. Do you think I'm not having a difficult time adjusting to all of this, too?"

Rose finally looked at him, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "You're an incredible father. Even if you are struggling, you're certainly doing a better job than I am." She sniffed, rubbing her hand against her stuffy nose. Shoulders slumped, she hugged her arms around her abdomen as if she may disappear the more tightly she curled into herself. "I wouldn't be surprised if you'd prefer I wasn't here at all… It must feel like I'm not sometimes."

Jack stayed silent for a minute as he realized that what Rose said had some truth to it: there were times when he wished he could be by himself. But it wasn't because he didn't want Rose there, it was because he needed a break, too. And she was right that it felt like he was a single father sometimes, carrying all of the duties on his shoulders, and that frustrated him beyond hell.

He noticed that Josie had relaxed in his arms and fallen back asleep. Quietly, so as not to disturb her slumber, he approached Rose so that she could see her daughter's peaceful, sleeping face. "We're doing the best we can. The first month is always the hardest, getting set into this new routine, new life… But look at her. Isn't all of this worth it?"

Rose smoothed out Josie's thin head of hair with her index finger, her heart fluttering as she did so. "She deserves a better mother," she admitted under a nearly inaudible whisper.

An emotion Jack was trying to conceal that night, one he wasn't expecting to come out of hearing Rose's confession, rose out of him: anger. Arising from frustration, he'd been angered by Rose's seeming inability to notice that she was loading most of the parenting work on him. But now, he was angry that Rose would say such a horrible thing: he'd thought, after all of the bliss that had come with Josie's birth, and Rose's increasing acceptance and joy as she grew an entire living being in her own body, that Rose would think more highly of herself.

He beat himself over the head for not noticing sooner just how severely she was struggling. If anything, he was furious at himself.

"Rose, you're the best mother Josie could ask for, because you care so much. And you love her more than anyone else. That's all she needs."

Copper curls curtained off Rose's face as she leaned forward to tenderly kiss Josie on the cheek, as if Jack's words had soothed her depression just enough to forgive herself for the night. But then she stepped back and started uncontrollably sobbing again, burying her head in her hands to muffle her cries, as she said, "I'm so sorry, Jack… I've been distant, I know. I should have told you sooner. I'm so sorry."

Jack took a moment to swiftly lay Josie back in her crib so he could take Rose in his arms instead, holding her tightly against him as her tears dampened his shoulder. "Shhh, it's okay… Things will get better now, Rose. We'll get through this together. Just like we always have."

Rather than head straight to Wisconsin, Jack and Rose decided to take a detour to Denver to visit Molly, who hadn't seen Josephine since she was two months old. As the train pulled away from the pleasant breeze and sandy beaches of Santa Monica, Rose sprawled out her journal in her lap and started thinking about what to write. She watched with a heartwarming smile as Jack held Josephine up to the window, waving goodbye to her birthplace, and pointing out the different trees and buildings that passed by while Josie tried to speak to him in her own language. She could have watched the two of them play around all day, but she had promised herself that she'd focus part of the trip on her writing.

Write what, exactly? Rose wasn't sure. She'd commenced with a stream of consciousness technique, detailing random memories of her life just to practice. But it was nothing more than keeping a diary. She thought back to the story she tried to write when pregnant with Josie: should she pick that up again? Did she bring it with her? Where would she have kept it…?

Rose shuffled through a couple of folders she had stuffed in her bag, then considered maybe she'd had those papers shuffled in with some of the random knick-knacks they'd packed in the one piece of luggage they were traveling with. She tried to recall some of the plot, then…

Her hand shook as she started the first sentence, and she immediately decided to switch gears and write a letter to send to Ilya instead; she'd promised to write of their travels as soon as they reached Chippewa Falls, and there was nothing wrong with starting early. She glanced out the window, at Jack hugging an already exhausted Josephine against his chest, and could barely believe that their time in Santa Monica was over. They started their life, their home, their family there; and now it was time to adventure, just like they wanted to, and raise the family they wanted.

Jack and Rose were surprised to be greeted by Molly as soon as they exited off the train station, barely getting a hello out before Rose was shifting Josie into Molly's arms. "Oh, isn't she a darlin'!" Molly gushed over the baby with sparkling blue eyes and a curly blonde crop. "And she's so beautiful, just like her mama."

Rose laughed, brushing off the compliment. "I think she looks more like her father every passing day. Acts like it, too… They're two goofballs."

They allowed Josie to sit on Molly's lap as they traveled to her home, and Rose, as she always seemed to be reminded of when she was with Molly, thought of her mother. Ruth was alive out in the country, somewhere, unknowing that her daughter was alive and that she had a granddaughter. How did Molly have the energy to keep such a big secret for this long? Was Ruth truly obliterated from society?

It was no surprise that Josie was exhausted by the time they reached the mansion, given all the stimuli she'd been receiving that day. As Rose tucked Josie into their bed, making sure the pillows were stacked beside her in a makeshift crib fashion, Jack snuck up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I can't believe this is happening," he whispered. "It's been over six years since I've been home…"

"I can't believe we're traveling again," Rose confessed. Once she felt comfortable with Josie's sleeping arrangement for the afternoon, she spun around to meet him, resting her hands on his chest. "I suppose, together, we're not the jumping-on-steamers, in-a-new-part-of-the-country-every-month kind of people I thought we might be… I thought maybe we'd move around from place to place, garret to garret, every now and then, see the world, work on our art… But life had different plans for us. A more settled down set of plans." She nuzzled her face into his warm neck. "As long as I'm with you, I couldn't ask for a better life."

They held that embrace for a minute, reflecting on how far they'd come in the last two years, when Jack broke the moment and pulled away. "I could use some fresh air. I'll be back in a few."

Rose watched his back as he walked away, confused. Had she missed something? She turned around to check on Josie, who was still peacefully sleeping, and a nervous part of her wondered if Jack Dawson was still clinging to the single, twenty-year-old wandering artist, and the idea of settling down secretly, deep down, terrified him. If that was the case, would that mean he would start to resent her in their new home? He had given her the freedom that she needed and the love she craved, but she soon became the reason why they couldn't pick up and move on a whim like Jack was originally used to.

Sitting down at the edge of the bed and holding Josephine's tiny, warm hand in her own, Rose quickly shook off her absurd thoughts and recognized them as what they were products of: her low-grade anxiety that chose to sneak up behind her at the most random times. She knew that Jack loved her and Josie more than anything in the world, and that Jack always wore his heart on his sleeve. Then what was going on?

At that moment, Jack was out front of Molly's house, smoking a cigarette. He recalled a time when he used to smoke multiple packs a day; then Rose happened, and the sinking happened, and his brain became too distracted and reminded him of his craving for cigarettes every now and then, but not nearly as much as it used to. Then, with a newborn, Jack tried not to bring as much smoke into their home. But today he felt like he really needed one.

He heard the crunch of gravel behind him, delicate footsteps he would recognize anywhere. "You're nervous about something," she said as her figure appeared next to him, her soft curls blowing behind her shoulders from the light breeze.

Jack blew out the smoke and looked at her eyes, already warmed with concern, and he realized she'd been thinking about his state of mind for a while now. He tried to put together the best string of sentences in his head to explain what was going on, but got distracted when Rose plucked the cigarette out of his fingers and took a drag from it herself, staring off into the distance thoughtfully.

The moment reminded Jack of the dozens of moments they shared closely after the sinking, when they would catch each other smoking alone outside the apartment. Sometimes Rose's cheeks would be stained with tears, her voice choked; sometimes Jack would ask Rose to leave him be. More often, though, they let the other stay in their company as they split a cigarette in silence, words not needing to be exchanged as they slowly healed their wounds together. Those moments felt weirdly out of place and intimate at the same time; after all, they had survived and didn't lose each other, so what did they have to be sad about? But the trauma in their memories was the exact same: clinging to the stern as people slipped down or fell over the rail, the free fall of the ship after it split in half, the final plunge into the icy water, the screams of the dead, finding out about the loss of Jack's friends. They shared a cigarette over their shared experience too many times to count, until one day their unconventional therapy had done its duty and they petered off. The sinking would forever haunt them, but not nearly as much as it did those first few months, tiny pieces of their grief and fears packaged in a cloud of smoke that wafted off over the Pacific Ocean.

"You're nervous about something, too," he said softly, letting her take another inhale of the cigarette before taking it back. "Overthinking again?"

Rose exhaled all of the air out of her lungs, nodding. "At first I was scared you actually didn't want to settle down with me, then I thought… You're nervous about returning home, aren't you?"

It was Jack's turn to nod. They were both open books, reading from each other. "Don't get me wrong, it's exciting to travel with you and introduce you and Josie to the world and where I grew up, but I haven't been there in almost seven years. I wonder who's still there, if anyone will remember me… If being reminded of my parents will still be too much."

Rose watched him take another huff of the cigarette, then took it from his fingers. She took one last drag from it before extinguishing it under her foot on the ground. "If you don't recognize anyone, we'll make new friends." She grabbed his hand in hers, caressing the back of it with her thumb. "You've done so much since your parents died, grown so much… They'd be proud of you."

Jack grinned as he cusped Rose's cheek with his free hand. "I love you."

"I love you too," Rose repeated before pulling him down into a kiss, wondering how she'd gotten so lucky to be with a man who still loved her and trusted her so deeply despite all of the mishaps and curveballs thrown their way.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed. :)