Before the flood could come, Jack's fingers unraveled from Rose's. A needle poked at her heart.

"Rose," Jack said, "I'm married."

"What?" Rose felt lightheaded, her knees threatened to buckle, and her stomach was like a whirlpool. His words aren't real, none of this is real.

"I've been married since December." His voice was strained as if it pained him to say it. She looked into his eyes. Instead of being met with the warm blue she knew and loved, all she felt was coldness.

"Oh." Was all she could say. She felt like a lovestruck girl who thought she could move to the other side of the country and pick up where she left off seven years ago with the man she loved. Silly, naive, and stupid.

The air was thick between them. There was so much to say yet they were both at a loss for words.

Jack studied her face and appearance. She's just as—no, more gorgeous than seven years ago, he thought, then felt guilty. Was it a crime to think anyone aside from your wife was gorgeous? He did, only because Rose was more than a beautiful woman to him; she was at one time the love of his life. Losing her had left a wound so deep in his chest that he thought he could never love again. Meeting his wife had shown him that love was possible. Her clothes were a far cry from the intricate designs and expensive fabrics she wore the last time they saw each other. Nonetheless, she looked incredible in his eyes.

The simplicity of her outfit and the absence of a ring on her finger made him realize that she'd been on her own these past few years and hadn't moved on. The part of him that longed for her was relieved to not see a ring on her finger.

"How did you two meet?" Rose said. She needed to keep a conversation flowing between them. As soon as he'd said he was married she had considered running away. But that wouldn't be fair to her son—she may not get to have the relationship she had hoped for with Jack but Jake deserved the chance at one. She was still on her mission, just with a few alterations in course.

Jack saw a flash in her eyes, an emotion he could only pinpoint as desperation. He saw other emotions as well, emotions he didn't want to investigate given his commitment, but he wondered where the desperation was coming from.

"I was drafted during the war—"

"Oh, Jack." Rose reached her hand out and touched his forearm that was exposed—his sleeves were rolled up.

Her touch was appreciated and reminded him how much he missed her. "It's okay, I survived," he said with one of his half smiles that signaled that there was more to the story. "After spending months in the trenches, I was shot and sent to a hospital. Elyse was working there in France as a nurse and she healed me, physically and mentally." Rose's hand dropped from his arm and he put his hands in his pockets. "It was my second time living through tragedy, third time if you include my parent's death. Sitting there in that bed I think I would've gone crazy from all the survivor's guilt I felt. Elyse saved me from that. I proposed to her two weeks after the war ended. She happened to be living down here so I followed her and we got married in mid-December."

Her eyes brimmed with tears. She felt sorrow for all the pain Jack had experienced and for not being there to help him work through it. "Jack, I'm…" Sorry was the word that almost fell from her lips, but she knew that wasn't the right word. He didn't need her sympathy; sympathy had never been a thing between them. Empathy was what they had crafted their bond upon. "I'm happy that you had someone to save you," she finally said. "Like you saved me."

He smiled. "Thank you, but you saved yourself, Rose. You just needed my encouragement."

She shook her head. Now was her chance, she needed to tell him now. "No," she said softly, "you saved me that night and… I wasn't the only person you saved."

His brows furrowed.

She swallowed before choking out, "I had a baby." The look of surprise on Jack's face was not lost on Rose. "I didn't know it, but I was pregnant when I walked off the Carpathia." She wiped away the tear that had fallen down her cheek.

Jack's face softened and his eyes became thick with water. "You had a baby, Rose? Our baby?"

"Yes," she said in a faint voice.

In an instant, he wrapped his arms around her and held her against his frame. When was the last time we embraced? When we were on the stern? He inhaled her scent, she smelled like daffodils—light and fresh like spring.

"I had him on January 7th, 1913. He looks just like you."

A tear ran down his face. The wall he had built to block his feelings for her came crashing down.

Using her thumb, she wiped the tear from his cheek. She needed to lighten up this moment which was heavy on both of their shoulders. "I swear he doesn't have an ounce of me in him," she said.

He laughed, with tear-filled eyes, at the spectacle of it all. "We have a son?" She nodded. "What's his name?"

"Jake Fabrizio Dawson," she said.

His hand came up to caress her cheek, she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "It's a beautiful name." He took a pause before saying, "I'm so sorry Rose, that you gave birth alone—Hell, even had to go through the pregnancy without me."

"You couldn't have known Jack. We couldn't find each other."

"I abandoned you," he whispered.

Rose's heart broke at Jack's statement. She couldn't imagine the guilt tugging at his heart. He may have been a drifting vagabond when they first met, but she had never doubted the commitment he would have had to his child if he knew of his existence.

"You didn't. We both thought the other perished on that terrible night." She stroked his back soothingly with her hand. For a moment she felt like he was hers and she was his, but that wasn't the case anymore. But just for this moment, she could pretend, maybe that would aid the ache building in her heart. "Jake doesn't know that you're alive. I didn't explain to him the full reason why we moved here. I didn't want to get his hopes up in case it all wasn't real," she said. "Even though you're married, I—"

"I want to meet him," Jack interrupted. His marriage hadn't been on his mind since she mentioned their son. Any stress he felt about his unearthed feelings for Rose was packed away— what mattered to him was making a connection with his son. "If you'll let me have a relationship with him, I want it."

"Of course Jack." His hand was still on her cheek and she leaned into the feeling; his palm was warm. So were his eyes. "I'd never keep him from you. He's at school now, but he gets out at two o'clock. You could come with me to pick him up?"

He nodded and then looked at the art nouveau-style clock in the office. "Looks like we have an hour till then."

"We should start walking."

"Sure." He dropped his hands from her cheek and waist and moved to grab his jacket draped over one of the chairs.

A cool feeling flooded Rose's body as soon as they broke contact. She wondered if he'd grasp her hand like she always imagined he would on their reunion day.

He didn't.

Thinking about the distance between them as they walked to Jake's school made Rose's heartbreak. She wanted to stop pondering over it but once her mind was fixated on something that made her upset she couldn't take her focus off it.

Jack could see the turmoil and hurt all over her face. He knew it had to do with seeing him again. With everyone else, Rose was able to hide her emotions from years of training while living under the judgemental eye of high society. But he could see past her façade and knew from her reaction at the gallery that she'd been surprised and disappointed by finding out he was married. He wished that he felt pity for her rather than this urge to hold her close as he did in the office. He couldn't run back into her arms. It wasn't fair to his wife.

"So," he started, "you said you moved from New York? How long were you there?"

"Since after the sinking," she said, "I thought the city had the most opportunities for me, and it was big enough to hide from my former circle."

"You never went back to them?"

"I couldn't. Not after all mother and Cal put you through, put me through," she said, then looked at him. "I kept our promise, Jack."

"You sure did," he said before joking, "even the babies part."

Rose laughed and felt a blush appear on her face. He thought it was endearing.

"He was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one," she said with a chuckle. I'd do it all over again, she said to herself, then dismissed the thought. There wouldn't be any more babies with Jack, only Jake and he was a terrific child. "He helped me keep my promise. There were many days I wanted to give up because of the grief, but then I'd remember that I had more than just myself to look out for. Knowing that I had a piece of you made the loss seem smaller."

"I'm glad you had him, Rose, and I'm proud of you," Jack said. "For being independent, raising a kid on your own, everything."

"Thank you, Jack." She was blushing, he snuck a glance at her again.

For the rest of the journey, Rose caught Jack up on major events in her and Jake's life. She told him about her former job, meeting Petra and Martina, and the family they created in Brooklyn. In turn, Jack explained what he did after he recovered from the infirmary on the ship. She learned that he kept drifting across the country, but traveling didn't have the same zest it did before the sinking. He supported himself through odd jobs once again, and selling drawings when he could. It wasn't until after the war that his art became appreciated, hence the exhibition. He said the war made people resent over-stylized and gaudy depictions of reality, and when he started drawing from his horrific experiences on the battlefield, the art critics adored it for its intense realism.

"Now I rarely draw anything from that period, I think I've exhausted the minefield of war imagery," he said as he looked down at his feet. "I've gone back to drawing when inspiration calls, the gallery is considering putting up those drawings next since they're still realism."

"That's amazing, Jack. To have your art be finally recognized must be a dream."

"It is." But it's not the only dream of mine that's come true, he thought before tasting guilt on his tongue.

They arrived at the school ten minutes before the school day's end and sat on a wooden bench. There were a few early bird parents as well; Rose couldn't name them since it had only been two days. She also noticed that all of the parents were mothers and were looking at Jack with curiosity and her with envy. He had caught the attention of all of them for being a man and for being attractive.

"I'm never early," Rose said. "In New York, I was either right on time or late. Jake would always tell me 'Mama you need to work on being on time.' I'm the least punctual person yet I have a very punctual child."

Jack chuckled. "I'm afraid he gets that from me." She raised her brows. "I had a fear of being late when I was young."

"You seem too carefree to worry about time."

"Yeah now I'm not as much of a pain in the ass about it," he said. "Tell me more about him, Rose."

"There's so much to say, Jack." She pursed her lips as she thought. "He can be shy around new people, but once he warms up to them he's an open book. Before he started school here, he was worried he'd have trouble adjusting, but after his first day yesterday, he already had a group of friends. He's curious, artistic, passionate—he can go on and on about any topic he's in love with at the movement—"

"Sounds like someone I know," Jack said and they shared a smile.

"Right now he has a fascination with the ocean."

"Do you let him swim?"

Rose's face fell and she looked down. "No. I haven't swum since that night. I feel like a coward for not teaching him how to swim yet."

He reached for her hand and squeezed it. "Hey, you're not a coward. I wouldn't blame you if you never swam for the rest of your life."

"Have you swam, Jack?"

Jack nodded. "A few months before the war, I lived in Louisiana, made friends with some backwoods fellas that I worked with. On one of our days off, we all walked to a river and I got in with them. I was scared out of my mind even though the current was calm, but I'd been wanting to conquer that fear for a while and none of them knew I'd been on Titanic."

"Maybe you could take Jake to the beach one of these days," Rose suggested. "Show him how to swim."

Jack smiled, "I'd love to." He rubbed circles on the back of her hand that he still grasped. The motion soothed the nerves he felt towards meeting his son. "Does Jake know how we met?"

"He knows a simple version that includes us falling in love and then the ship sinking. But I don't want him to know about Cal or my mother, not yet."

"Understood." He agreed with Rose's decision to not reveal everything about their love story. Although it didn't bother him how they fell in love and made a child out of wedlock, he knew society thought differently and that Jake was too young to understand the complexity of the situation.

"Jack, why didn't the article mention anything about your wife?"

The question caught him off guard. In the past, it had been him who asked the abrupt—or as Rose put it the rude, uncouth, and presumptuous—questions. Using his other hand, he ran his hand through his hair. "There's a story behind that. Elyse's folks live in San Francisco, she comes from a family of lawyers. They don't know that we're married, they think we're in the courting stage." He wore a smirk on his face. "They don't really approve of me–"

"You seem to attract women whose folks don't approve of you," she remarked.

He let out a long chuckle. "'Tis the life of an artist I suppose. To them, drawing isn't as practical as banking or defending people in court, but it doesn't bother me. Doesn't bother Elyse either. She loves her parents, but they tried to influence her love life when she was younger so she'd rather keep our marriage to herself for a while longer."

"When will you two break the news?"

"She wants to tell them face-to-face, we're planning a trip during the summer." He didn't look at her as he said this. "Trip" was an understatement for what he and Elyse had been planning. "She didn't take my surname either," he said as if he were telling a trivial fact. She hates pineapples. Her favorite color is purple. He looked at her, an idea coming to his mind. "Speaking of…"

"I did," she said, suddenly feeling shy as if she didn't have a right to take his name. "You don't mind, do you?"

He shook his head immediately. "Of course not." It suits you, was what he originally thought of saying. But he thought of what that would insinuate. So he said, "In fact, I wish I had taken your name."

"No you don't," she giggled, squeezing his hand as she did so, "Jack DeWitt Bukater sounds ridiculous."

"You're right it does." They laughed together before falling into a comfortable silence.

"Rose, would you've come all this way if you'd known I was married?"

The way her face shifted reminded him of that afternoon spent walking on the deck. "I'd like to think I would, for Jake's sake," she said the words carefully, but he knew she was being honest.

The school bell rang and throngs of hyper children poured out of the building. Rose kept her eyes on the crowd, searching for Jake.

Jake grinned when he saw his mother sitting on the bench, he was happy that she'd arrived early. But his happiness was combined with the confusion he felt as he drew closer. She was talking to a man who he'd never seen before. And his hand was holding hers. He's never seen her hold hands with a man. He wondered if he was a new friend.

"Oh, there he is, Jake, come here." She let go of Jack's hand and waved to her son. At her call, he approached the bench.

"Hi, mama." Jake looked at the stranger with a quick glance then focused his eyes on Rose.

"Darling, there's someone I want you to meet," she said and glanced at Jack who looked in awe at Jake.

It startled him how similar his son looked to how he did when he was that age.

Rose took a deep breath and grasped her son's hand. The emotional weight of this moment was overwhelming, almost suffocating. But it was happy suffocation—if such a thing was possible. "Jake, remember how I told you about how I met your father and how he died?" He nodded. Her voice felt airy as if it would fly away with the breeze. "Well, I was wrong. Your father and I couldn't find each other after the sinking and well… he's alive."

"He is?" Jake asked with wide eyes. The excitement in them made Rose break into a smile.

"Yes, he's alive." She looked at Jack. "This is him."

Jack wanted to hug Jake but knew it was best to let the child set the pace; despite the blood they shared, he was a stranger to him. So, he stuck his hand out for a handshake. "It's nice to meet you, Jake."

"You're my dad? You're Jack?" His eyes were wide as he took in Jack's presence which felt familiar and foreign at once. He'd never seen a picture of him, but Jack matched his mother's description perfectly.

"I am."

Jake took his hand, but after a few shakes, he didn't let go. His father's grasp was different from his mother's. His hand was bigger and the palm was rougher. Despite the newness of his father's hand, he instinctively felt that he was where he was supposed to be.

Jack felt a warm feeling on his chest as their hands remained linked. He never wanted to let go of his son's hand or let another moment pass without knowing his son. "Jake," he started, "I'm sorry I haven't been there with you and your mama. If events had gone differently, I wouldn't have spent a day away from you both. But now you're both here, I'm here, and I want to get to know you if that's alright with you?"

His son nodded eagerly which brought Jack a great deal of relief. Jake had spent years wishing for his father's presence, now that he was here he wouldn't pass it up.

Rose was misty-eyed at the sight and Jack's apology. She didn't know if the guilt he felt would ever go away, but she knew it would get smaller as time went on. Tears escaped her eyelids, running like little rivers down her face.

Jake noticed her tears and tugged on her hand. "Mama, you don't have to cry anymore," he said, wearing a grin, "daddy's here."

Jack and Jake walked ahead of Rose. Jake had insisted he knew the way home already, which Rose doubted after he made them go in a circle around a block. But she'd entertain him, and Jack didn't seem to mind either. Watching them walk hand-in-hand as if it was the hundredth time they had done so overshadowed the sorrow she'd felt about Jack's marriage status.

As she trailed behind she eavesdropped on their conversation. Their son was talking Jack's ear off, asking question after question or telling one story after another. Jack didn't mind, she could tell he adored this. And he took everything Jake said seriously, unlike some adults who half-listened or ignored their children. He was perfect for this, he was always meant to be Jake's father.

When they reached the apartment, Jake offered to give Jack a tour of the apartment and he didn't refuse. Jake showed him all of the rooms and spewed out commentary like a proper guide.

"The tub's faucet makes a roaring sound when we turn it too far."

"Mama already has a stack of books from the library, I think she needs a bookshelf. Do you like to read?"

"I think I'll cover this wall with my art, maybe you could add your drawings there too… But I'd like to see them first."

Once the tour concluded, Jack returned to the living room where Rose was sitting in one of the armchairs. "Your home is lovely, Rose." He took a seat on the sofa as if he'd sat there a million times already.

"Thank you, I didn't decorate much in New York so I think I've gone a bit overboard," she chuckled, thinking about the colorful curtains in the bathroom that were too long and needed to be trimmed but bathed the room in a serene azure tint when the sun shined.

"No, it's perfect," he said. There was a homey sense to the place that comforted him, but it was also creative and vibrant like her personality. In years past, he would often daydream about how a home of theirs would have looked like. Though the images he would conjure weren't identical to what he saw before him, they had the same energy.

The fire crackled in the fireplace of the apartment, casting a warm glow on the room that was lit by two gas lamps on the walls. Rose looked at Jake curled up on Jack's chest with a content smile. After dinner, he asked Jack to tell him stories from life and he fell asleep after the third story.

Jack had spent all afternoon with them and it felt like Heaven to Rose to have him there. She had been concerned that at some point Jake would be overwhelmed, but he didn't falter in his excitement. Something else that lingered in her mind was the knowledge that the day would end at some point, and Jack would have to go home. Jack could feel it too, but he hid it. While being with them, no mention of his wife or going home had come up. It made Rose anxious to think about the effect it would have on Jake, but seeing them together overshadowed her worries.

She brought her gaze back down to the coffee table where a drawing was placed. It was of Jake, wearing an impish grin that he'd inherited no doubt from his father. Jack had completed the portrait while Rose cooked dinner. She traced the lines of her son's face, and reread the note written in the corner: "For Jake, love daddy."

"I still can't get over how beautiful he is," Jack whispered and softly stroked Jake's blond locks that fell below his ears. "The fact that I helped create him is crazy." He heard her sniffling and shot his head up. "Rose?"

"I'm alright," she said through the sniffles. "I promise these are happy tears." She gave up on brushing the tears away and met his gaze with a tear-stained face. "I was thinking of how you two should've always been like this. It's not right that he didn't have you for six years and that this is your first time meeting."

"I know Rose, it's not fair," he said as he looked into the fire. "I used to think of what our lives would've been like if we stepped off the ship together."

The words that were on her mind flew out of her mouth before she could stop them: "You wouldn't be married to someone else."

A log in the fire broke off a piece, making another crackling noise and adding more fire, more heat to the room. Shit, why did you say that? she cursed to herself.

Jack didn't respond and kept his gaze on the fire. She couldn't read him at all. That seemed unfair to her: he could always see her, but she couldn't always see him.

After a few minutes of silence, Jack said, "It's getting late, I should head out."

Rose hid her disappointment. She'd known this moment would have to come to an end, but she longed to stay for eternity like that: in a warm room with the two people she loved most in the world. She snapped out of her thoughts and stood up. "Of course, let me help you with him."

She shook Jake's shoulder, and he opened his eyes and looked around confusedly. When he saw Jack he remembered the day's exciting event and felt a rush of happiness go through his body. His wish had come true: he had his father.

"Darling, your daddy is heading out, he needs you to get off him."

Jake's happiness was replaced with worry. He looked at Jack. "You're leaving daddy?"

The scared tone in his son's voice broke Jack's heart. "I'm just going home for the night, okay? I'll be back to see you again, your mama and I have already made plans for tomorrow." His voice was gentle and he wore a smile in hopes that would convince Jake.

"I thought you were home with us. That you wouldn't leave." His face was scrunched, and his mouth pulled down into a frown.

Rose knew she had to step in before Jake dove into a meltdown; he may have had a calm temperament for a child his age but there were times when he didn't hold back his emotions if he was upset. Those times reminded Rose that he was her son. A fireball of emotion. A loose cannon, or pistol.

"Jake," Rose said carefully, "daddy isn't living with us, he has his own house. He's not leaving you permanently, you'll see him soon."

"But I want daddy to be here," he said before bursting into tears.

Rose picked him up and he squirmed in her arms, trying to get back onto the couch with Jack. Eventually, he gave up and cried into his mother's chest. Rose had seen the waterworks coming and wanted to cry too. She wanted the same thing that Jake did, but knew it couldn't happen and she didn't have the heart to tell him. "I know darling," she whispered soothingly as he said incoherent words.

Jack felt terrible as he watched the scene. He hadn't anticipated his son's reaction, but he understood. He felt like he was being abandoned and that his wish was being taken back. Guilt filled him instantly.

"You can go, I'll deal with him," Rose said in a hushed voice. On one hand, she couldn't imagine how painful it was for Jack to hear his son crying like that. And on the other hand, she wanted space so that she could cry as well.

Jack shook his head. Rose looked at him with furrowed brows as he stood up and put his hand on Jake's back. "Jake, if it's alright with your mama, I can stay the night." The cries diminished. He lifted his head and looked at Jack. "Will that make you feel better?"

Jake nodded.

Jack looked at Rose for confirmation.

She hesitated. Letting him sleep over would cause more confusion for Jake once the time came for Jack to leave and indulging him could cause a greater meltdown than the one he'd had. But for the time being, she would let it slide. She was too tired to deal with questions, Jack could stay the night and they could talk in the morning. "You can stay," she said and kissed Jake's forehead. "Let's get you to bed darling."

With Jack's help, Rose put Jake to bed, and with Jake's approval, Jack was given permission to read the bedtime story—which was of course Jack and the Beanstalk. After Jake fell asleep, they slipped out of his room quietly and stood in the hallway.

"I'm sorry," Jack said.

"What for?"

"For his meltdown. I wasn't thinking about how he'd react."

"It's okay, and I'm fine with you staying the night but I don't want to offend your wife," she said as she tugged on her empty ring finger. She stopped when she felt Jack's gaze drop down to her hands.

"I don't want to break the promise I made," he said, "Elyse will understand."

"Good," she said. "And we need to explain the situation to him because if we say nothing, he'll cry every time you leave."

"You're right," he said as he ran a hand through his hair. "I can explain it to him, I'm the one who's married."

Rose came out of her bedroom wearing an angelic white nightgown and carrying an extra pillow and quilt for Jack. She tried to keep her eyes off him; he'd stripped down to his undershirt and long pants that he wore under his slacks. She felt silly for being flustered by his lack of layers—was she not the woman who stripped for him when she was seventeen and made love to him in the back of a car?

Yet, she didn't have a chance to see all of him that night. Only glimpses. She bit back the jealousy she felt toward the woman who got to see more than just glimpses.

He read her thoughts. "Sorry I should've asked before taking off—"

"Jack, it's fine. You've seen me naked," she reminded him and he chuckled. She laid down the quilt over the couch and handed him the pillow. "This should keep you warm, if you need to add more wood to the fireplace feel free to."

"Thank you, for everything."

She nodded softly.

"Rose, I want you to know that I'm here for you as a friend, just because I'm married doesn't mean I don't care about you. Everything I said seven years ago still rings true," he said.

They maintained eye contact as the fire crackled behind her and the room became warmer. Rose didn't know what to say, her first instinct was to melt into a puddle and cry. It was too much. His words and presence were overwhelming.

"Thank you," she managed to say, "I'm happy to have your friendship and that you can be in Jake's life now." She took a few steps back from the couch as the urge to cry rose in her chest. "Goodnight Jack," she said.

"Goodnight Rose."

She let out an exhale as soon as her door met the threshold. Her steps toward her bed were slow and careful as if the wooden floor below her bare feet was fragile ground that would crumble under heavy trodding. She took a seat on the edge of her bed and stared blankly at the wall.

All of the heaviness from the day returned to her shoulders. Her head hurt from the endless stream of thoughts.

The man she loved was alive.

The man she loved was married.

The man she loved would never be hers again.

She covered her face as a sob left her throat. Hot burning tears came afterward. She could never fall out of love with him. She told herself that having him in her life as a friend would be enough, but that was a lie. She knew it. It would never be enough. But she'd have to live with that.

AN: Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it! We've finally come to the twist of the story-Jack's married! Poor Rose.

To give you an idea of where we're heading, this story will show how Jack and Rose navigate co-parenting Jake, despite the feelings they have for each other. Lots of drama to come, especially when Elyse is thrown into the mix. But also bonding moments of course between Jack and Jake.