Everything feels foggy, and she's disoriented, unsure as to whether she is asleep or awake as she continues to lay still, not opening her eyes. For the moment the ringing sound is gone: the first true relief she's felt in a long time, and she's afraid that if she does open her eyes it will start up again.
She's comfortable, propped up somewhere soft. Somebody must have brought her to her bed, she thinks, but its not just that. She has no idea how to even explain the sensation or this feeling of knowing, but its as if she can sense a presence with her— Jack's presence. A clear, light energy invading all of her senses and wrapping her up in a certain comfort she had only ever felt in those brief hours she had spent within his arms. She can almost smell the salt air and cinnamon and charcoal— the tobacco and coffee that had been his scent, warming and full of comfort. She can almost hear his voice in her ear.
"Trust it, Rose. I'm here. Do you trust me?"
Her eyes pop open at the sound of it, so real and clear, and she's surprised to find that there's nobody next to her— no real voice to have mistaken for his, and she's sure she had just heard it clear as a bell. She truly must be going mad, she thinks, but has no time to dwell before her door opens, a tired and grumpy looking Cal entering, still in his dinner jacket, followed by a doctor.
"Oh good, you're awake," says Cal, putting on a pleasant facade in the face of others.
"Is it good?" She thinks. She would much rather still be asleep, or in the peace she had felt a moment ago— in that feeling of Jack. As the retort pops into her head she swears she can almost hear a low chuckle, just like the voice a moment ago, and she can't help but look to her side for a moment, causing a look of confusion to pass over Cal's features at her distraction.
"So you say it was a fright that caused her to collapse?" The doctor asks, ignoring Rose's presence and deferring of course to Cal, who nods.
"We were having a discussion on the landing, and a painting fell. The noise must have startled her. She has been complaining of ringing in her ears recently however, and headaches, so her mother has insisted on having her examined to be sure its nothing serious."
Rose watches the doctor nod, as she tries to think over whether it had been the painting that had startled her into collapse, but that's not what she remembers— not how she had felt. It had been the anger and the ringing in her head. She remembers the painting falling but must have fallen herself at the same time, as she had only just barely registered the shattering.
"I'm sorry for scaring you, Rose. I'm sorry you felt my anger."
There's his voice again, as if he's just over her right shoulder, and once again she can't help but glance in that direction. Now she thinks she really must be going mad— that or she hit her head in the fall and her mind is playing cruel tricks in its addled state. Cal and the doctor both appear concerned by her faraway look.
"Miss Dewitt-Bukater, if you'll permit me—" the doctor says, coming around to the bedside.
"Dawson," she thinks, out of habit now, mentally correcting him but not daring to say it out loud, and she feels a sensation of buoying warmth for a moment; a sense of surprise and happiness, but she can't dwell on it. She already feels crazy enough and doesn't want this doctor to be here any longer than necessary.
He has a light which he shines into her eyes, directing her to follow it which she apparently does fine, and then he takes a look into her ears. "You've mentioned a ringing noise. How long has that been occurring?" The doctor asks.
She tries to think. It had definitely coincided with the sinking but had it been immediate? Or had she noticed it later on? She couldn't remember.
"Since mid-April," she answers, and he makes a note.
"Since the damned Titanic sinking," Cal clarifies. "We were lucky to have survived the ordeal."
"Some weren't so lucky," she thinks, but doesn't say it out loud. She's too exhausted right now to deal with any anger from Cal.
She goes along with the doctor's requests to have her head turnt one way and then the other, and then to stand and walk in straight lines, and demonstrate standing and sitting so many times her head spins.
"This is absurd," she can hear Cal mumble under his breath, and she has to agree with him. These tests don't feel as if they're determining anything.
Finally the doctor gives a shrug, frowning. "I wouldn't chalk it up to anything but tinnitus, perhaps brought on by too long with water in the earways. That could account for any ringing or occasional disorientation," he explains. "Unfortunately, there's not much to be done for it other than rest and reduction in stress. The fainting I wouldn't worry about. It's likely she was just over-tired and received a fright."
Rose tries not to roll her eyes or make a petulant remark at the way the doctor is talking as if she herself is not in the room, apparently incapable of understanding anything in regards to her own health. For a moment she's almost impressed by the way Cal keeps his temper while obviously regarding the doctor as a quack.
As he makes to exit the room, he gives Rose a pointed look. "I expect tomorrow at dinner you'll remember our conversation from earlier," he tells her. "My parents will be making an appearance."
Refraining from letting out an audible sigh as she wants to and angering him again she simply nods, too tired to argue. "Could you have your valet send Sarah in? I would like to dress for bed."
He nods as well, reaching for the doorway. As he does, the handle shocks him visibly, the spark of it catching Rose's eye as the lights flicker again. Leaving her finally to herself, he exits mumbling about needing to get the damn wiring fixed within the palatial house.
— — —
Rose takes a deep breath, rising to her feet once again. She is extraordinarily uncomfortable now, still in the heavy dress from dinner. She makes her way towards her vanity, pulling the jeweled choker from her neck and tossing it onto the dressing table without a care before removing her earrings as well. She's part way through taking the pins from her hair when her maid knocks and enters, helping her.
A bath run for her nerves, and a soothing cup of tea at hand, Rose sinks down into the warming water, letting the heat soothe her muscles. She feels drained, physically and mentally, and like she has been in a constant battle with her mind since the sinking, now nearly three months ago: a battle to keep the memories from surfacing and the sadness she feels at bay. If she lets herself think of Jack for a second too long she's right back in that water, watching him sink below the surface and her hopes and dreams along with him. She thinks of the promise she made to him, and of what a terrible job she has been doing at keeping it. How can she when she's still trapped here in this world with no clear path out? The best she had been able to bargain for herself had been a six month delay on the wedding— a concession that Cal had granted on the premise of the both of them wanting to give reverence to all who had perished in the disaster. Now though, with only three months left of the reprieve she can feel the date looming ever closer, the stark reality settling in her bones that soon she would be Rose Hockley, forever ensnared within the glittering grotesque fallacy that is Cal's world.
"Jack, I'm sorry," she whispers to herself. "I'm not living up to my promise. I don't know how. I— I'm scared, Jack. I can't marry him. I can't, but I have no way out."
She feels almost desperate. With a deep breath, she sinks below the bath water, hoping it will cleanse her mind which feels like its permanently drifting, unmoored and scrambling for answers at all hours of the day. When from under the water she hears that voice again, clear as day, she realizes that while it may be in her mind, its not a figment of her imagination. "There's always a way, Rose. We'll find it. You've been so strong, Rose. You're strong."
She sits up out of the water in her surprise, jolted upright. Could it be him? His spirit, or something of the like? She feels silly for entertaining the idea, but he sounds so real in her mind. Some of his words are things he had never said to her before, and yet she hears them in his voice as if in a perfect memory.
"Don't worry, you're not going crazy."
She feels reassurance wash over her in waves, as if a calm has broken over her like the sea breaks on the shore and tears spring to her eyes. She's not sure if they're from fear or relief, but the presence of Jack feels so real— his voice just like she remembers, and and the radiating comfort like a balm. If she is dreaming this, or if it is a madness or a figment of her imagination she doesn't care. For the first time in months she feels something— a little spark of hope.
"Jack?" She asks timidly, whispering his name into the quiet air of her en-suite bathroom, expecting no real answer but the continued silence, but then the voice comes again, right by her ear.
"I'm here, Rose. I'm right here."