A/N: Thank you guys so, so much! I never thought I'd get that great of a response to the letter AND the last chapter. I'm really honored you guys loved it so much. ArticLilly- I love 'Hurt' by Johnny Cash, and after I read that I went back to listen to the song and I agree, it really does fit Cal. I didn't mean to make you cry, either, lol. And Tipper, thanks for pointing out the mix up about Mary's husband. I meant Robert, not Richard. I don't know why I mixed them up and I didn't even catch it. And to my other two reviewers: Purple Rhapsody and Angel of Beauty, you guys are great!

Sorry this part took a little while to get up. There are a lot of emotions in this chapter so I wanted to try and get them all out without it coming across as too rushed or confusing. Does that make sense? Probably not, lol.

May 11th, 1912

Day

Cal was amazed at the sight before his eyes. Was he dreaming? Had the hangover taken over more of his mind then he thought? Rose was standing before him, voluntarily. She had come back, nearly a month since he had last seen her on the deck of the Carpathia, on her own. And, to put it lightly, she looked like hell on earth. She looked to have lost a drastic amount of weight, as the navy blue dress underneath his now ratty overcoat appeared to swallow her up whole. Her gaunt cheekbones protruded sharply against her fair skin, and her once beautiful red hair had faded to a copper color. Her hair also seemed to have been shorn recently, as it hung limply against the sides of her face. She looked exhausted, but beautiful. Always beautiful to him.

"What are you…Are you ill? You look terrible. I mean, that's not what I mean. Would you like to sit, or perhaps lie down? Please, sit down, if you'd like? Can I get you anything?" he babbled on. He sighed and rested a hand against his temple. "What I'm trying to say is, what are you doing here, I suppose."

Rose stared at him, a small chuckle escaping her lips. The scene would have been altogether hilarious if it hadn't been so serious. She was amazed to see a side of Cal in the mere minute she had been in his mansion than she had seen in the six months of their engagement; a side of him that was genuinely concerned about her feelings. She removed his letter from her pocket and held it in front of her as if it were a protective barrier separating them.

"I found this in my coat pocket yesterday. I want to know why," she replied defiantly, looking him straight in the eye.

Cal glanced down at the envelope she held before him. His letter. He had thought she would read it sooner, but apparently it remained forgotten about in the bottom of his coat pocket. "After we spoke on the Carpathia, there was so much left that I felt I needed to express to you. I've never been good with emotions, so I chose to write you that night. I never fully intended to give it to you until by chance I saw you that night again as we docked. I thought that maybe…"

Suddenly, Rose felt herself growing angry. "Maybe what? Maybe I'd allow you to control me once again? Maybe I'd be weak enough to return to Pittsburgh with you? You thought wrong."

He shook his head. "I thought that maybe, eventually, I could have your forgiveness."

She sighed and glanced away from him, still clutching the letter in his hand. "And what am I supposed to do with this letter? Believe you? Trust you? Accept that you have changed? All I ever wanted from you was your respect. I wanted your attention. I wanted us to learn from each other, acquire our different tastes in things together. I wanted to be treated as an equal, your equal. I was your fiancée, goddammit. Not a foreman in one of your mills. You never had to buy my love, especially with that ridiculous heavy necklace." In frustration, she pulled the Heart of the Ocean out of her pocket, much to Cal's surprise. "You were too stupid to see that all I wanted from you was companionship, for you to accept who I was, flaws and all, and love me for them."

Cal said nothing; but settled on to the marble steps of the staircase in defeat, head in his hands. He was seriously regretting the bottle of whiskey he had consumed last night, as it was making it difficult to think or form a response clearly.

"And I know I was difficult and that frustrated you. I know you felt as if you could never reach me, and I pulled away because you were too headstrong, too arrogant. I had just lost my father, and my ridiculous mother was pushing me into an engagement with you; something I didn't want, not at that moment. I wanted to mourn for him, and I feel as if I never properly had that chance."

"And Jack? What was Jack? What did he have that I didn't?" Cal glanced up and shouted at her, still positioned on the stairs. He thought briefly of Rose's words on the deck of Titanic and how they had stung:

"I'd rather be his whore than your wife."

"Do you know what really happened that night, when I slipped on the ship's rail, Cal? Are you really so dense to think that I was simply looking at the propellers? I hate to admit this to you, but I tried to commit suicide that night. I wanted to die, because I felt as if no one was listening to me. Every day, I felt as if I was standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs. No one ever looked up. Jack was the only one, after he pulled me back over, to look up."

Cal looked up again at stared at her. He felt his mouth suddenly go dry and a lump form in his throat. Had he done all this to Rose? Had he been such a monster to put her through all this pain; to make her want to take her own life? "You wanted to take your own life…because of me?"

Rose felt the tears well up in her eyes now. She had promised herself that she would not cry; not in front of Cal; not here, not now. But looking down on him now, she could see that he was just as broken as she was, and she was finally saying all the things to him she had wanted to tell him all along. "Not just because of you. There was so much pressure on me, and I felt as if I could never become the person everyone wanted me to be. I was always a disappointment. I felt as if I would have been better off. My mother, my father's death…there were many things, Cal. You were only a small part of a very large depression. Jack was…he was wonderful to me. He was an outlet for so many different things. And if he had survived, I'm sure we would have started our lives together. But he didn't survive, and I did, although I've been walking around like I am dead. The past month has been hell for me. And then after reading your letter I thought that if there was one person left that just might understand me after all, it could be you."

He stood up and walked closer to her, until they were just several feet away. "I want you to know that I meant every word in that letter. I have no hidden motive, no alibi to speak of. Whether or not you may believe this, I did care about you in my own way, even if I didn't show it half of the time. I was envious of you, Rose, and I tried to control you so much because I could no longer be as much of a free spirit as you were. I gave that up in my youth long ago. There are too many eyes on me now and always have been, but if there is one thing that this tragedy has taught me is that only one opinion of myself matters: my own. Not my father's, not society. Mine."

Rose glanced at him sadly and shook her head. "Do you know…how much you hurt me?" she whispered softly, so quietly that Cal had to take a step forward to hear her. "How many times…we hurt each other?"

He rubbed his temples in slow circles. What else could he say to her, to convince her that he was making amends and changing for the better? What else could burn the painful memories of nearly a year between them? "I don't know what else to say to make what happened between us right. I'm so sorry. I've been a fool, and in some ways I still am. I could sit, stand, shout out for the whole world to hear my apologies towards you and it would never be enough. I put you through a terrible pain. If you never want to speak to me again, I'd more than understand. It's what I deserve."

"I just…" Rose groaned in frustration and flung her hands up in the air, still clutching the necklace in one hand and the letter in the other. "I don't know!

"Did you love him?"

The question still ran rampant in her mind. Had she ever loved Jack Dawson? Or had she merely been in love with the idea of a life so different than hers? She had cared for him in a very short period of time, but she was so confused now. "Don't ask me that," she responded. "Please, not now."

He nodded. "Did you love me, then?"

Tears brimming in her eyes, Rose paused. In the beginning, she had felt something between them, certainly. There had been a spark all along, but as the months passed, their courtship had begun to unravel, mostly at her own doing. She was so young, so naïve. Cal never gave her the attention she so desperately seeked, yet he continued to shower her with gifts to buy her affection. The Heart of the Ocean. "If the circumstances were different, I believe I could have grown to love you."

Uncertain of what to say next, Cal simply stood still, eyes glued to the marble tile of the foyer. At that moment, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Rose had never loved him. But…she could have grown to?

Rose witnessed the look of defeat on Cal's face and began to sob quietly. She was so tired; tired of the guilt, tired of mourning. California never sounded more tempting to her. She had enough money to perhaps find a room to live in, but she would have to find a job quickly…

"Rose."

Her thoughts were halted suddenly by Cal's calm voice. She watched as he stepped a little bit closer, looking her straight in the eyes. They stared at each other for a moment, each trying to make sense of what the other had just revealed. She then felt him rest his hands lightly on her trembling arms and felt herself drift forward ever so slightly as he moved his hands forward, gathering her into a loose embrace.

She held her breath for a moment, trying to hide any signs of weakness from him. She so desperately wanted to build up the barriers that kept everyone out; the barriers she had once prided herself on. But it was no use, and the tears began to stream down her cheeks as she choked back a sob.

Cal felt Rose bury her face against his chest and sighed. What a mess they had both gotten themselves into. He clutched her tighter as her shoulders racked with sobs. "Shh," he comforted her. "It'll all be all right. That day won't be today, or tomorrow. But each day will be better than the last."

"How can you be so certain?" she sobbed into his chest. "How can you hold me right now, after all the terrible things I said and did to you?"

He shook his head as his other hand came up to stroke her shorn hair. "You forget that I said and did terrible things to you as well. I suppose, not to make a joke out of the situation, that we've been even all along."

"Everything has changed. I wasn't happy in my old life and I'm miserable now. Where do I go from here?"

They pulled away from each other slightly, and Cal dropped his hands to his sides as Rose began to dab at her eyes with the back of his coat sleeve. "What were your plans…after Titanic docked?"

"Jack had told me wonderful stories about Santa Monica. I want to head out west, to California, to start over. A new life. But it's been so hard. I spent a month in a women's shelter in New York, barely eating or speaking to anyone. I was uncooperative, but grateful, and Mrs. O'Neill, the woman that took me in, gave me two options. She wanted me to cooperate willingly and admit myself to a mental hospital, or I had to leave. So, I left. I could never…bear to be in such a place."

Cal rested a hand against his temple and balled his other into a tight fist. "By god, what is the name of this woman? I'll have her arrested for endangering your life by throwing you out on the streets."

Rose's eyes grew large, yet she managed to manage the smallest of smiles through her tears. "Cal…you're doing it, again."

"Doing it?" He spoke irritably. His goddamn migraine was coming back full force. "Doing what, exactly?" he snapped.

"Controlling me, even if you don't mean to. I'm not your fiancée anymore, Cal. You don't have to go and attack every person in my defense."

He threw his hands up in disgust. "I'm sorry, Rose. I didn't mean to. I suppose it was a habit that I assure you that over the past month I have been breaking out of."

"Apology accepted."

He nodded and towards her again. "I'd like you to stay, Rose," he spoke sincerely.

Rose's eyes grew wide once again for what seemed like the fifth time since their conversation began. "What?" she questioned incredulously. Had she heard him correctly? Cal was inviting her back into his home, something that she had been running from since the Carpathia docked. It had been her intent to come to the mansion and speak to him about his letter and settle a few things between them, but she had never intended to stay or rather, be invited to stay. She had wanted to perhaps burn the bridges between them and continue on her way as Rose Dawson.

However, when Cal had held her in his arms, she couldn't help but feel safe once again. She hadn't felt that way since being with Jack, and had never felt that way previously with Cal. She had always viewed him as the enemy during their engagement and had done everything possible to spite him. But now, even after she had opened her heart to him, he welcomed her into his home. Had he really started to change?

"I said," Cal began to repeat slowly. "I'd like you…to stay. At least until you get back on your feet somewhat." The look on Rose's face looked unconvincing, so he cleared his throat and thought of what else to say. "I could use the company over the next two weeks. Perhaps we could even travel to Philadelphia, if you'd like."

He spoke with such sincerity that Rose found it hard to find a reason to turn his offer down. Perhaps it was for the better, at least until she got back on her feet. It would give her a place to rest and recover, and as soon as she saw fit, she would continue on her way. "I, I don't know, Cal," she babbled. "It's a lovely offer, really, but, I'd be imposing. And your parents. How would you explain this to them?"

He rested his hands in the pockets of his robe and grinned. "Quite simply, actually. They're staying in Boston for two weeks with Mary and her husband."

"And if I'm still here when they return?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. Please say you'll stay. As a friend…to a friend." He smiled at her and for the first time in a month, she genuinely smiled back.

"I suppose I could stay…as a friend." She turned to him and embraced him gently, kissing his cheek lightly in the process. "Thank you."

He nodded simply, and clapped his hands together. "Well, that's settled them. Let me find Marion and I'll get you settled in upstairs."

Rose nodded gratefully, and allowed him to gently take her arm and lead her up the stairs.

Night

Whether or not she liked to admit it to herself, Rose had settled in comfortably right away. Cal had graciously offered her the largest spare bedroom of the estate, and she found it quite to her liking. The room reminded her of spring sunshine; its pale yellow and white accents found in nearly everything from the wallpaper to the comforter on the bed.

Immediately, a rather shell-shocked Marion had drawn her bath, and while the water ran Rose had managed to reassure the poor housekeeper that she wasn't a ghost risen from the dead, but that she had been alive all along. A mix up, she referred to it as, but Marion—or anyone, for that matter, didn't have to know the truth right away.

The bath relaxed her tense nerves, and she found herself soaking in the steaming lavender water for over an hour. For the first time since the sinking, her mind was truly at ease and she felt comfortable, something she hadn't felt in the month she had spent at the O'Neill's. Was she crazy for staying here? Only time would tell, but she had seen a change in Cal, and that made all the difference.

She delicately dried off and wrapped the towel around her body as she entered the bedroom. To her surprise, she found a white cotton nightgown, undergarments, and a matching robe. Next to it were several day dresses of varying fabrics and colors. Rose lightly ran her fingers over the materials and gathered them in her arms, placing them on the vanity chair nearest the bed. Just then, there was a knock at the door, and startled, she nearly dropped her towel.

"Just a minute. I'm dressing," Rose called out, hurriedly changing into the undergarments, nightgown and robe. She gently tugged at her tangled curls with the vanity comb and quickly braided her hair and tied it with the ribbon left next to the comb. "You can come in now."

Cal gently swung the door open with a small smile. "I just wanted to check in on you. I'm heading to bed now. God knows all the work I have waiting for me tomorrow," he joked lightly, as if trying to break the ice between them.

She nodded. "Thank you for the dresses. They're lovely. Really, you didn't have to."

"I knew you would be in need of something to wear. There's a few more upstairs in Mary's room. She left them behind when she moved to Boston with Robert."

"Thank you." They simply stared at each other for a few more moments, and then Cal cleared his throat.

"Well, I'm turning in for the night. If you need anything, you may help yourself," he offered softly. "Goodnight, Rose."

"Goodnight, Cal." She watched as he shut the door, and she walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, pulling back the covers. She sighed and turned off the light, yet several minutes passed before she grew even somewhat comfortable underneath the sheets. Her mind swarmed with questions that had no answers. She wasn't sure if staying at Cal's home was the best solution. A part of her greatly regretted accepting his invitation, but in reality the other, more rational part of herself knew it was for the best. She would look at Pittsburgh as simply a resting spot in her journey to California, her new home. Right?

Still, she could not get rid of the nagging feeling that she was betraying Jack by doing so. She wanted to continue with their dreams to honor his memory, but Rose felt as if she was dragging her feet getting there. So much confusion still hung in the air; Cal's letter, words, and actions still haunting her.

What had she gotten herself into?