Chapter twenty-two:

There was nothing other than pure certainty when Cal, the man who Jack had pictured so clearly within his mind for these past weeks, stood watching him possess Rose with his mouth whilst shoved up against the window of the sitting room, with a view of Fifth Avenue below. Anyone could see them both. As she softened and not stiffened against him, at seeing Cal, Jack could only become an observer.

The certainty from Rose, who didn't let him go, instead she held him closer, made Jack never more confident in her affection for him. He, himself, was certain that this would be some sort of moment of truth. And Cal, the supposed gentleman who loved Rose DeWitt Bukater watched them both from beneath a dark gaze and a jealousy formed inside him. The patchy cheek where Rose had tried to disguise a forming bruise was truly now available for them all to see.

Cal's darkened eyes narrowed as Rose clasped onto Jack's hand, almost clinging to him like a child would their mother, not out of fear but of comfort. The returned stare was chilling. Despite the nerves, determination coursed through Rose like she had never felt and Jack felt how it was pulsating through her veins.

Extinguishing his cigarette in a nearby ashtray, Cal nursed a brandy in his tumbler. Rose had failed to notice that he had returned back to the hotel, since his outburst at breakfast that morning.

''Well, well,'' Cal raised an eyebrow, ''the wanderer does return.'' A glance to the clock atop the opulent mantlepiece told them the hour. ''And with an unwelcome visitor in tow.''

Rose stiffened at his voice. ''Yes, not for long. I was just about to leave.''

Painfully slow, Cal made his way to the divan couch, his eyes darting between the two of them. ''I see.'' His moves were slow, lethargic. As though he was a cat about to attack its prey.

Aggression started in Jack's stomach, growling away but he remained outwardly calm. This was not his battle to fight, though he did have more than one reason to want to connect his fist with that cocky, arrogant face just once. A slow exhale calmed him temporally.

''You cannot run away forever. Cavorting with a man you fail to even explain as to what his presence is doing here, within my suite.''

''Well, then you will be happy to hear that I will be leaving to cavort with that man.'' Rose told him low, firm and with a raised chin.

''Very well.'' Cal crossed his leg over the other, casually and rested his arm atop the divan couch. A man of such extreme arrogance that it could have been nauseating if Rose hadn't known the man better than perhaps, he knew himself.

Rose shifted her feet, expecting an outburst. Something. A reaction. There was nothing. With a squeeze of Jack's hand within her own, it told her to not expect this to be the end.

''What shall I tell your mother?''

''Tell her the truth. She knows everything already and fails to see my reasons.'' Rose retaliated. ''Before Jack arrived, mother and I were just discussing how miserable my life had become and she found yet more ways to convince me to stay. To become your wife.''

''I have no doubt she would love to hear the wonderful news from you herself. How she will be left and ruined.''

Rose stiffened. ''My conscience is clear, Mr. Hockley. I am a free woman and my mother is a woman old enough to fend for herself.''

''A laughing stock I believe is the term for a widowed woman retorting to work in a menial job to afford breakfast when one is used to fine dining, fabulous wealth and happiness.''

''Perhaps then she would have a back bone of her own. One to support herself rather than rely upon the money of others. Rather than implying it was my job to take the role of unhappy housewife just to ensure her survival.'' There, the words which one had held inside for so long were spewing out one by one at such a rapid rate she had to take rein of herself, knowing the correct ears to put it to were her mothers, but perhaps Cal needed to hear it, too for neither of them seeing to have listened to her. ''Haven't you heard how much I have wanted to scream about this?''

''Yes, sitting about being provided for is quite the hard task, Rose. You barely committed to our courtship, now here you are four months into our engagement about to become a whore to a man who can barely support himself.''

Jack's body stiffened, tensed and then Rose squeezed his hand just once to keep him calm. It didn't help to relax the energy coursing through his veins or the flare of his nostrils as he breathed as easily as could be. If only Cal knew just how honourable his intentions had been toward her since the start. How Jack would never even touch her that way, if she never wanted it.

''Perhaps you would have preferred me to stay? Lie of our existence as soon-to-be husband and wife. Attend the engagement gala tomorrow night where hundreds of people would be able to see our façade crack slowly. Marry you and bear meaningless children who would have barely an existence aside from the same unhappiness and misery that I have lived through all of my life. I would never do such a thing.'' Rose bore her eyes into his, knowing that she was beneath his skin even just slightly. ''Would you have been faithful? Of course not. You were unable to stay out of the whorehouses and gentleman's clubs whilst engaged to me so I very much doubt that you could after reciting those vows. Marriage to you is just to solidify your image as a well-respected, wonderful man, about to inherit the most profitable and largest steel company in America, who's steel was made to create the wondrous Titanic. Well, look what happened to that.'' Rose fumed, knowing this was the point which would hit him the most. ''Your ego must be fed, your reputation must not be tainted, but let me tell you something, Caledon Hockley; outwardly you appear to be the perfect picture of a man but beneath that I know you. I know just how scandalous this will be for you on top of the press ever finding out that Hockley steel provided for the unsinkable ship which founded...'' The tumbler of brandy smashed within Cal's hand before clattering to the floor as he stood abruptly. It was unclear if he had discarded it or shattered it with his own hands but there was no blood about to tell. It startled Jack, and he pulled Rose's body behind his own immediately to protect her with himself. With no warning, Cal came to Jack, with widened red eyes like a man who had not slept for months on end. There, within eyes, a spark of fear crossed him. A flash that perhaps another man may not see but Jack was satisfied enough to take a note.

''Stay back,'' Jack held out one hand, extending it with flexed fingers as a warning. ''Don't come closer.''

''Move out of the way.''

''No.''

In four strides, Cal had reached Jack, with Rose pressed against the window behind him but as Cal extended his arms to clutch onto Jack's lapels, he reacted, pushing him backwards into the drinks cabinet which housed the liberations of all kinds. The glass inside the payne clattered but didn't smash. The decanters of liquor, however, were sent scattering every which way.

''Jack,'' Rose cried, ''are you all right?''

Jack was completely shocked at his own strength; at his own With a tense jaw, he sensed that Cal knew that he was cornered. The dark circles of his eyes narrowed, and Jack watched the cogs of his brain turn through a brandy induced haze. Cal seemed predictable in one way, a man so limited in knowledge of the world and everything about it. They were wrapped up in cotton wool, seeing the world through rose tinted windows and fancy carriages. What utter nonsense that was. How could one think highly of oneself when they had experienced very little? When they were waiting on foot, hand and mouth. When they could barely even pour a drink. Barely fight like a man.

''You think you're a smart guy.'' Cal spat out, his mouth tight at the edges and his body swaying from either the adrenaline or the drink.

''No, Mr. Hockley. I don't think anything of myself, I think even less of you but I do care about her, so I will do anything that I can to make her happy.''

''And life with a gutter rat can do that?''

''It is the freedom that will make her happy rather than being caged into a world full of horse shit. Full of hypocrisy, misery and fantasy. A life which entails caring what others think of you, more than you think of your own wife, your own family or friends. Feelings mean nothing, only the way others treat you. How rich or how poor. How beautiful they look. Value of house, of vehicles...'' Jack laughed, taking a long exhale. ''It's pathetic horse shit.''

''So now what, do you intend to kill me before you go?'' A knowing smile crossed Cal's lips; one which seemed to be of complete satisfaction. ''How would you explain that to the police?''

''I wouldn't waste on you if I have a gun.'' Jack lingered for a moment. In his mind, he searched for an urge to kill. An urge to end the man's life. There was none. With Rose, there had been a peace he had found within her that one never knew would even exist. The urge to break his jaw, and maybe a couple of ribs, however, that was more than appealing. ''And I was taught that if I had to fight, for something that you loved or believed in,'' he paused to squeeze Rose's hand, ''then always do it like a man.''

''I suspected.''

The tension was palpable, Rose swallowed heavily. Pinning Cal beneath her ice-cold stare, unable to calm her own adrenaline she felt it coursing through her veins and she was unable to stop the shudders of absolute anger, exhaustion and raw emotion. The raw rollercoaster of mental changes which one had encountered in one day alone was enough to last a single lifetime but with Jack's hands in her own, it felt to be worth every second of it.

The golden hued dress which she had adorned that morning, complete with corset beneath it, felt tighter than ever. Her hair had come loose from the heat of the moment with Jack and her eyes were pinning Cal completely beneath her gaze.

''There is no need for any of that. This is a clean break. I shall never speak of you again, publicly or personally if you never try to find me.''

Cal raised his eyebrow.

''How honourable of you.''

Taking a step toward him, singularly and out of Jack's shadow, Rose placed her hands upon her hips as though she was about to scold a naughty child.

''Do we have a deal?''

''We had a deal, Rose. You gave me your word and I gave you a ring if you recall that, my dear.'' Cal glanced down at the engagement ring which was disposed of upon the floor.

''Your word meant nothing, nor did my own. We have drawn our own conclusions on that.'' Rose tried to reason with him. At first, he seemed to be a reasonable man. He had been unfaithful as well as her. Deny it as hard as he wished, the evidence had been presented to her on numerous occasions and her own innocent mind had turned a blind eye thinking it be a regular and almost normal act to indulge in intimacies with a prostitute rather than warm the bed in his own home.

Opening his mouth to speak, Cal reached a fist to Jack's lapels to hold him still whilst his other hand came up and round to smash into his face. Jack ducked, sending the hand crashing into the window which rippled and cracked beneath the force but didn't smash completely.

A rip-roaring groan echoed about the formerly silent suite, and he freed Jack's collar as he cradled his bleeding and split fist. Obscenities followed.

''Perhaps now, we have a deal?'' Rose raised her voice above his own groans, to gain some clarity. ''Maybe now you'll stop your own idiocy.''

Beneath the pathetic glazed eye, Cal's red raw and angry face twisted. Jack clutched his lapels, straightening them out before swiping the hair from his face. It was effortless to escape the fist of a man who had probably not raised them more than once or twice and even then, if that performance was anything to go by then he would have missed.

''You might not agree, but if you come near her again, I will ensure that you wish you didn't. If you won't answer her, at least understand that much.'' Jack threatened. Now, there was nothing but pity felt for the man. Cal still didn't answer, his groans ceased and he was exhaling sharply.

''What is going on?'' Ruth Dewitt Bukater stepped into the sitting room, still wearing her morning gown and with a wide mouth, she gaped at Cal, clutching his fist to his chest and muttering a tirade.

''Rose?''

Ruth's narrowed gaze settled on her daughter, then to the boy beside her. With their hands entwined.

''Your daughter,'' Cal spat, through a rough exhale of pain,'' is leaving to become a whore to this...''

Ruth settled her eyes upon Rose. The green ice of them was enough to chill anyone. ''Leaving?''

''Yes, mother leaving, just as I had said as much earlier.''

''For goodness' sake, fetch a physician,'' Ruth cried out, and one of the maids came to the sitting room, her eyes wide with shock.

''Ma'am?'' Her thick accent queried the affair which was unravelling before her.

She eyed Rose, then Jack, moving toward them slightly before Ruth's shrill voice pierced her ears.

''Fetch the physician, and the police.'' Ruth glared to Jack, ''I will have you thrown to the jail so fast, for laying hands upon-'

''Yes, that is right, mother, for it is always the fault of others, isn't it? Never your own. Never Caledon Hockley. Perhaps when I go, he can tell you the truth.'' With a raised voice, Rose started towards her mother. The maid was about to bolt to the door before Rose stopped her. ''No, please do not alert anyone. Cal is quite all right, if not a little bruised to the ego.''

Ruth started towards Rose. ''How can you speak to me-''

''Because I have held my tongue for too long.'' Rose raised her jaw, feeling the tensity within her body. Her mother wrung her hands together, a sign of her nerves. ''I have spent long months in absolute misery whilst you two have planned my life about me, my future and everything about it.''

''To protect you!''

''No, mother, for yourself.'' Rose tried to soften. ''I am sorry papa left you,'' clearing her throat she corrected, ''us, with financial matters. I am sorry that you felt the only way to correct them was for your only daughter to marry a wealthy man. I was fed to the wolves for long periods. I tried to become a perfect little bauble, mother, but I am not the daughter that you are in need of and I am unable to marry a man who I despise with my entire being.''

''Your head has been filled with such romantic, idiotic notions by this-'' Her hand waved about dramatically before catching the glare of Jack and she pulled it back to link it with her other.

''This man has a name. Jack Dawson.''

''Cal will ensure that-''

''I doubt he will be able to do much.'' Jack's gaze fell to Cal, who had silenced, taking relief with another brandy which he had shakily filled to the brim of a new glass.

''Your ego must be quite battered.'' Rose asked, low. ''I know how important that is to you.'' It was a tiny prod with a sharp stick. Perhaps another smaller threat to remain quiet now.

''What ever does that mean?'' Ruth looked panicked, stricken...speechless.

''Does it matter, mother?'' Rose wished to, in a way, extend her hand to the woman who had brought her into this world. Done wrong by her, yes but one could see the reasons for wishing Rose to marry so dutifully to fulfil the life which Society dictated should be led.

Ruth's calm demeanour gave nothing away. They said her Mother had a heart of ice and that she had always ruled her household with an iron rod. The latter was the truth.

''Mother?''

''I shall be shunned by Society, but by God your fall from grace has been far heavier and brutal than my own would ever be. I thought I had raised my daughter well; I can accept that I failed-''

''You didn't fail-''

''But you failed me.'' Ruth swallowed harshly, sucking in her cheeks and then exhaling deeply. ''As soon as you have turned away, I shall forget that I even had a daughter.''

Parting her lips to speak, Rose tried but there was some blockage of some sort. Jack, she knew, wished to step in, perhaps even throttle them both but he remained as he promised to be. A failed daughter, she might have been. There was a stab of cold running through her entire body, realising that her mother had turned on her heel and retreated to the bedroom without uttering another word. She was as good as dead to her now.

''How can any of you not see the damage that you have done here?'' Jack broke the silence, taking Rose by the waist, breaking that reverie of perhaps shock that she could have been dismissed so easily by her own mother. ''Do you really think that by disowning your daughter a person can rid themselves of the burden?''

Cal moved towards the drinks cabinet, so deep into his own bitter regret that he failed to even glance up to them for a moment.

''I care not.'' Slowly, Cal turned his neck to Rose and curled his lips into a knowing smile. ''You cannot run away forever, Rose. You know that. You will come back.''

With defiance shining within her watery eyes, Rose clasped onto Jack's hand, perhaps with more fervency than he had ever felt.

''No, Cal. I will not be coming back.''

''Well, then I hope that you enjoy your time together.'' Cal went back to nursing his hand, taking a steady sip of his brandy.

Jack glanced at Rose. Never had he experienced such an acute feeling in every cell of his body. Every one of his senses was tuned to a fever pitch. He could hear the beating of their hearts, the panting of their breath. He could smell the delicious scent of her skin, the light sweat and warm, clean flesh. And suddenly, everything seemed to be completely overturned. They had started this journey; her running away and him following.

Now, though, Jack found his hands clutching onto his rucksacks with one hand, and pulling Rose with another, darting for the door of the sitting room, before Rose almost diluted as she went with him.

'Jack!''

It took a second for her to breathe, when Jack thrust her out of the sitting room door and into the main reception room before grabbing the knob of the door which led out into the corridor.

''Rose! Duck!''

And then it came; the instinct which Jack had trusted. And rightfully so.

BANG!

Pieces of wood splintered, having just missed his head by a millimetre or two. Rose screamed, her body shaking for a moment and Jack slammed the door closed behind him.

''Run, Rose. I need you to run, down to the elevator.''

Picking up the hems of her dress in one hand, Rose hastened her pace towards the waiting operator inside the elevator. ''Jack, did he shoot?''

''Yes, but he missed. Keep running.''

The suite door opened, and as Jack managed to glance backwards, just once, he saw Cal fiddling about with the gun. Whether it was his injured hand, drunken vision or own stupidity, as he cocked to aim; he managed to trip upon the large rug adorning the landing and as he went, he fired the gun so out of range that even though Jack ducked, his heart accelerated and soon, he was locking eyes with a man so weak and alone that he could have almost felt an ounce of pity until Cal extended his arm to shoot again but as a thrashing pounded in his ears, the bullet never left the gun. It had run out.

''Damnit!'' Cal cursed, writhing about on the rug, as he tried to pull himself to a sitting position. ''You can run, but you can't hide.'' His voice echoed about the empty and lonely landing of the Penthouse Suite.

Jack had experienced a violent urge to strangle the bastard. Every instinct raged that Rose was his, his alone to protect and comfort. But he had no rights to her.

''Jack, come on.'' Rose called from the elevator.

Lowering his head, he scrubbed his hands through his unruly hair. His chest ached in the way it always had when he yearned for freedom. But for the first time, he wondered if he was right about what he wanted. Because it didn't seem as if the pain was cured when he parted with Rose. In fact, it threatened to become a good deal worse. And it was now all truly apparent; his chest ached for her.

Rose. She deserved so much more than Cal. She deserved passionate, heart-scalding, overwhelming, consuming love. She deserved...

Oh, hell. He loved her.

The fact was, Rose was his whether they walked the same path or not. They could live on opposite sides of the world, and she would still be his.

The bohemian in him had seen that from the beginning.

And it was that side of himself he would listen to.

Rose was his. Not to possess the way that Cal did. But to love, freely, like only he was capable of.