I am sorry I am such a tease drawing this all out ;)

meetmeattheclock; for you, as promised, as per request for the late birthday ;)

Chapter twelve.

''Would it be all right,'' Jack started, hesitantly, ''if whilst you bathed that I went out for just half an hour?''

Rose's eyes met his, sensing his discomfort at something there between them, as though there had been a shift in gear during the course of the last hour or two.

''Of course, is there something wrong?''

Jack didn't waver his eyes as he responded.

''No, I just have something that I have to do and I—well, I wish for you to take your time in the tub.'' His cheeks flushed, as his eyes darted for the floor and then back to her once he had stopped speaking.

With all of her heart, Rose wished that she had the guts to ask if her naked body, soaked in water, was the reason for his quick egress but she hadn't and honestly, she wished to not know the full answer. The actual thought of it stirred feelings within her that she never even knew existed. It was terrifying but exhilarating as the same time.

''All right.''

''I would knock as soon as I return and then call. Do not answer the door to any one aside from me, all right?''

Rose nodded, just once. Outside, the rain seemed to have cleared up a little. People seemed to fill the streets again, darting about doing their daily duties; work, shopping or just walking about the City. Part of Rose longed to go out to join them and walk endlessly but then the depression which had also fell over the City was a reminder of the sinking. Here, in the bubble which she and Jack had created was where she never wanted to leave. Just between them, there was a budding and beautiful relationship of some kind which neither had spoken of but just allowed to naturally progress. They would laugh together, play together and then he would kiss her, in the most wonderful way imaginable; each one was better than the last, deeper and more tender.

Since that morning, after their passionate embrace, Jack had kept himself busy between holding her whilst she had slept in and out. The room was tidier, the fire was always made up and now, the bath was full of clean, warm water for the first time since aboard Carpathia. The steam which had risen off the water seemed to create a gloomy air about them, the humidity causing her face to glaze over with a fine sheen which seemed to make her eyes blur into a haze of cloud. To look at Jack through that lens, it was almost a dreamlike state of mind.

''Thank you, it looks wonderful.''

Jack came to her side, pressing his lips to hers just once, softly. ''You need the warmth in your bones. Take your time. I will not be long.''

Her lips brushed against his, and her stomach fluttered as it always did when he was at such close proximity. She caught his nape as he went to go, pulling him further into her with a move which surprised the both of them. His forehead pressed against hers, both of them sticky from the heat of the room. His breath drew in as he came closer to her. Jack squeezed his eyes closed, as he battled with his own inner thoughts.

''What is it?'

Jack opened his eyes to see her. The innocence of Rose shone through right there as he took both of her hands within his own. She felt their hesitation as he touched her, as though the need to touch her with much more tenderness was needed. To pry there, with her longer than necessary would be wrong; perhaps he had already outstayed where he shouldn't have.

''I have something that I need to do, I can talk with you when I return but you have to just trust me for a while, all right?''

Rose nodded, evermore curious. ''But you cannot stay with me while I bathe?''

Exhaling, he pressed his lips to hers. There was the wound in his side; the thorn which he was trying to not remove so hastily and the guard which he was also afraid to let down; even to her. In fact, more so towards her.

''Rose, I-''

''I feel it, too," her voice was almost pleading. ''I can feel what is happening here.''

''I know you do.''

The strength which Jack was using to both leave her alone and whilst she was in such a vulnerable way made him wish to stay beside her and never leave but there was a strong pull away from her for both of their sake. At least for the moment.

The pull was physical. Between both of them. Neither were fools; nor were they unaware of the growing chemistry between them both. Foundations must be laid first, to ensure that neither were hurt in the process of such intimacies.

''Could you just—um, help me out of this?''

Exhaling slowly, Jack placed his hands upon her shoulders to silently turn so that she presented her back to him. Just as he had that morning but in reverse, he undid the buttons so that this time, he was exposing her bare skin and not concealing it. The way he breathed fluttered across her nape. it was a slow torturous feeling as he crept lower and lower towards the bottom. As he came to the final three, he seemed to rush them, as though his hands been close to her was burning him, just the way it was her. The burn was not painful but a shock; one which felt like an electric current was hitting her each time she even came into the tiniest part of contact with his skin. There, was where the tremble started once more, as his fingers worked their way down her spine like a fiery thread.

Once Jack had finished, the dress lowered easily down her shoulders and Rose caught the front before it fell any lower to the floor. If Jack had witnessed the slight exposure, he hadn't made a tell-tale sign and then his coat was on.

"I won't be long."

Before Rose could even process his exit, she was stood facing a closed door. Two blinks later, her body lured her forward to lock the door behind him just as he had asked. Her fingers trembled as she did so; as full realisation set in. She was alone for the first time in such a long time. Fully alone. Tears set in her eyes for just a second before she blinked them away. The warm air about the room combined with the closeness of Jack seemed to have sent her head slightly dizzy. The room fell silent; eerily so. Glancing about, with Jack's various items placed about, she didn't feel so worried as she had just a second ago.

Allowing her dress to slowly fall to the floor in a single whisper, it landed at her feet in a pool. Her naked body exposed to the air felt alien. She allowed her hands to travel up over and across her stomach, almost in a self-conscious way. With one foot in the tub, the other on the cold, wooden floor, she felt the contrast between the two. Her feet were bare; moving her toes across each crack in the wood, it prickled at her feet before she pushed herself into the tub fully and lowered herself into it. It creaked as she sat; it was tin, rusted and filled with some floral smelling soap which Jack had scented the water with. Each inch of her skin felt bruised, sensitive and seemed to react to the water as though she was on fire. The ends of her hair dipped into the water, tickling her breasts as she moved about in the water.

Rose noticed how her nipples became erect against the cold, the same way they did against Jack's touch. Leaning her head back against the hard rim of the tin, she closed her eyes and allowed the scent of the soap to clear her senses out. Perhaps without Jack in the room, beside her, for the first time since the sinking, perhaps, she could allow herself to think clearly. He intoxicated her, overwhelmed her—so much that she was unable to even concentrate on a simple task. He disturbed her eating, her dreams and everything in between. Her stomach had remained unsettled since the second his eyes were laid upon her for the first time. It had started there in the centre of her gut, before it had slowly taken over her entire body. A woman was not made to feel the way which she had before marriage – perhaps ever. It was clear from Jack's hasty exit that what he felt was an intoxication as well.

That afternoon, Jack had confessed his truest feelings for her. Rose, I have fallen in love with you...

And, she had fallen in love with him, too. Truly and deeply. A contrast had appeared though. Since this morning, the mood had changed. Grown.

Parting her lips, Rose wanted to sob thinking of just how quickly he had left the room whilst she bathed. True, he was a gentleman and she would not have expected him to sit and watch whilst she did the thing most intimate to a woman. No man should ever watch a woman's toilette; or so her mother warned. An air of mystery should remain within a marriage; separate but adjoining rooms, or individual bathrooms. A husband and wife should only share a bed when they were to consummate their marriage and during such intimacies afterwards. These were the list upon every married Society woman's itinerary.

Yet, Jack had lain with her in a single cot to comfort her at times when she had asked him to, crying into his shirt until she had fallen fast asleep in the comfort, warmth and safety of his arms was the place which had become her sanctuary. The steady rise and fall of his own chest and the beautiful rhythm of which his heart beat was the most wonderful feeling. Whilst he slept, Rose had more than once propped herself up to watch as he rested. The fascination of him had been immeasurable from the beginning but now, as her feelings grew stronger and her body reacted more to him; she knew that inevitably he was well and truly beneath her skin. It was such a whirlwind and each time one had tried to stop her heart from falling, her head had quickly followed and crashed along with it. The sinking of the Titanic had perhaps caused their feelings to intensify, along with the fact that they had made the decision to remain together after the Carpathia had docked; the decision had been light, easy and now, as she was alone within a room for the first time; she felt the way her womanhood was growing and now, she was growing into herself as an actual woman. Yes, seventeen was no age, not for many but if Rose had been old enough to be engaged to a man thirteen years her senior, old enough to carry the burden of her family woes upon her shoulders and old enough to have been married in just a few weeks' time then, she was old enough to know her own heart and mind and to also own it. Jack was the man who she loved; whom she wanted. Wanted with all of her heart.

Opening her eyes, Rose noted that the steam in the room had subsided and the room was clearer and the air less harsh to breathe in. Reaching forward, she found the single bar of soap and ran it over her body feeling the smoothness of it across her skin, how it calmed her in a subtle way. Cleansing away the dirt and impurities of the last few days felt wonderful as well as working away the aches and pain which had made their way into her young bones. Exposure to the cold for so long had made her sore, weaker and now, she felt light in the recovery.

Her hair was lathered and soaped fully atop her head, each time she rubbed at it, the suds fell into the water making it whiter and opaquer. Watching as it fell, she seemed to be transfixed by the small bubbles which had formed as though it removed her mind from Jack. She hadn't even thought to ask of where he had to go in such a rush but then, was it her business to ask such a question? Their relationship had never been confirmed nor denied. What were they to the other?

Rose plunged herself into the tub, fully submerging her head underneath to not only rinse the suds from her hair but to break the pattern within her head with the hope that when she pulled herself out of the water; she would feel better in every way. Water splashed about the floor as she went, and when she finally broke the surface, she was thoroughly breathless.

Looking down at the water, it appeared to be black with all of the dirt which had fell away. The water would be emptied and go down a drain, along with the tears she had cried. The damned tears which never seemed to cease, sorrow still hit her hard and yet, there was still a dim light of fear that she would lose the one remaining hope of her life. Jack was the only thing which had kept her going during the time of need and then, what else could she feel? Within her, she felt she had no right to mourn when she had lost nothing but material goods but instead had walked away from the family which had lived. The water had gone cold but she didn't shiver nor did she feel cold anymore. The strength which she had been trying to find for the last week seemed to appear from within. She stood in the bath, her wet and naked body dripping as she stepped onto the bare wooden floor and wrapped the small towel around her body. She looked into the bath. Taking a deep breath, she felt the weight had lifted off her shoulder. The bathwater was all what was left of Rose Dewitt Bukater. She was now Rose Dawson. Whoever that was.

With a towel draped around her, Rose went to the window where she watched the City for just a second. Rain drizzled once more and the once thicker crowds had dispersed into a solitary figure here and there. Beneath her, a pool of water emerged on the wooden floor from her dripping wet hair but she made no attempt to dry it off just yet. Her eyes were heavy as she leant against the cool wall which set off the goosebumps across her body. The window pane was a peeling white paint with a single frame which sat wonky within. It rattled with each slight gale of wind and whilst it had frightened her to begin with, she had now grown used to the sound. It was amazing how fast one can adapt to new surroundings.

Taking the towel, she pulled at one edge to start to dry the ends of her hair when her attention was caught by the knock at the door. She waited for a second, for the expected voice to follow. It did.

''Rose, it's me.''

Rose wanted to leap to the door, but her body felt too heavy and her muscles had relaxed after the bath. Undoing the latch with wrinkled fingers took a few attempts but she mastered it on the fourth try before she very slowly pulled the door inwards to allow him back inside their little bubble.

Jack was wet. His jacket held specks of rain and his hair was dampened but it was his eyes that betrayed his calm composure the most as they widened, before his breathing stalled as he stepped back over the threshold.

''Is it raining?'' Her voice disturbed his silence.

''Yes. It just started again. I think it will get heavier overnight.''

As soon as he had returned, the air was thick once more almost as though something hung over them. With a fleeting glance over her, he toyed with the fastening of his outer coat, as though he was in two minds whether or not to actually remove it.

Noticing his discomfort, Rose pulled at the towel so that it was further across her body, not realising just how much it caused her breasts to swell atop it. Jack looked to be in pain, as he winced and his heavy-lidded eyes slowly closed.

''You cannot bear to look at me, can you?''

The steel in her voice shot a pain through his heart.

''Yes, it is all I want to do, and that is why I am trying so hard, Rose.''

''Hard to not look at me? To see me now as I am?''

''Yes.''

Exhaling slowly, Rose followed her heart; allowing the confidence which she had gained from realising herself to be an attractive woman to shine through,

''What if I had asked you, to draw me like this? Just like you did your French girls?''

Moisture flooded his mouth, as his gaze fell upon her angelic face, lit beautifully ethereal in the dim light of the fire and the gas lamp.

''I would have, of course, I would.''

''But, you cannot look at me here, like this?''

''Rose, when I draw, I am a professional. The truth is I have never been-''he paused, to think of just how to word it, ''been involved emotionally with a subject of my drawings.''

''I see.''

The watery eyes which fell upon him pulled at his stomach and his heart. His smooth palm came up to her face, to hold it there and to study her.

''And to separate what I saw and how I feel would be very hard.''