Chapter twenty-three:

''Rose, you're so stupid,'' Jack's voice shook, unable to stop trembling as he pulled at Rose's coat sleeve, ''you're so damned stupid.''

His breathing grew erratic as the adrenaline refused to die down. Given the chance, he probably could have carried on dragging out the entire contents, the charred bodies and everything with it. Was there any blame to be laid? He felt like tearing at someone but his own body seemed to fail him, pulling and aching as he dragged himself from the depths of Hell and followed Rose's scent. With chattering teeth, he focused on Rose, and searching for her eyes within the darkness with a new quietness which had fallen over them. Scotland Road was dark and empty, the stokers and boiler room workers who had been taken away before had disappeared. Smoke filtered out, causing an eerie glow and doom in the corridor and Jack led her towards the crew quarters, towards the light which was looming out ahead near the entrance to the lower decks. It was like a different space, without much panic or warning of what was happening—or what had happened, just metres below their feet. How the First-Class must be sleeping, or laughing of any impending doom with a glass of liquor and jest.

Jack's shirt was completely torn, so as Rose placed her trembling hand upon his shoulder, he shuddered, the feeling that he only had from her touch. Raking her hand across his blackened face, he clutched onto his chest and let out a cough, so body-wracking, that Rose held onto him to aid in supporting any way which she could. It continued, and he covered his mouth but it did very little to help. It was as though someone was clawing the last breaths out of him.

''I am not stupid for finding you,'' she warned through gritted teeth, ''how could I let you go. Allow you to die in the bottom of Hell? How could I-'' Rose couldn't finish as she watched him with a fiery gaze which made his blood warm in an instant, he moved his bloodied right hand to her nape, pulling her mouth to his in the most breath-taking kiss one could ever have. Her body weakened, melting against his without a care of how torn his shirt was, how wrecked his appearance was. They clattered back against the wall, too weak to stand alone and care about the smoke which lingered about, leaking inwards as though slowly sneaking up to them. As his hands went into her hair, his tongue caressing hers. For the first few seconds, Jack kept his head. A bit of nibbling pressure. A confident slide of tongue. Then, Rose moaned. Hummed against his lips. And her scent spiralled him into intoxication. His mouth wanted more of her. His heart hammered against his chest. He tightened his muscles, resisting the urge to drive her higher against the wall of the blackening passages. He needed to keep control. This was about distraction. Distracting himself from the fire, from having dragged men away from their death, having almost lost himself and then, seeing Rose above him as he had almost given up hope at the bottom of a molten hot ladder. His reasons for striving for the survival wasn't for himself, but for her; to scold the woman he was in love with for even chancing her life to search for him, and now, there wasn't a chance he could stop holding onto her. He was mad, seething, for her coming to find him but then it had lit a fire within himself, a passionate one, burning brighter than he could have ever known and that had driven him to near madness this very minute. Rose more than cared for him in return, that would be the only reason for her risking her own life; that or insanity.

Rose's arms slid around his neck. Her mouth tilted. Opened. Begged him for more. She shifted so her thigh moved between his; brushing and pressing to shoot him into the sky with her softness against his hardness. The need for her spun him in spirals of heat, despite the actual heat of their surroundings. He clasped her harder. Gripped her neck and pulled her mouth tighter. Ate at her like a starving animal. And it still wasn't enough. Soft, sweet lips. Not merely willing but eager. She whimpered and pulsed her hips against him. Circling. Grinding. Demanding.

How long had he lived without this? Without her? How hungry had he been? So hungry he hadn't understood its vastness. Until now. It wasn't just a physical pull, but it was intellectual, it was mentally, it was primal and everything in-between. He drove her body upward against a door which loomed behind them, testing the heat with the palm of his hand before pressing her against it with her back straightened.

''The smokes getting thicker down there.'' He heard a voice nearby, and tensing, Jack pulled his mouth from Rose's.

''Come on.'' He whispered almost inaudibly.

Grasping her hand, he pulled her quickly to the exit which led out through the crew area and onto the well deck, bent over double laughing so hard that it echoed about the entire corridor and out into the night. The rush of everything came at him. Adrenaline worked in mysterious ways and now, as the icy Atlantic breeze hit his bare shoulders it stung at the cuts of his face, of his chest and then, Rose's hand was still within his. Her giggle mixed in with his own, they circled the deck, trying to grasp some form of reality. Her laugh pierced the night. Pierced his ears. Brought him back to the sense of reason.

''You're so stupid,'' Jack repeated, his hand at the base of her neck, almost bringing her head towards him in a needing way. Rose's hands trembled about his shirt, his reddened areas which were sore and tense.

''I had to find you.''

''The ship will sink.'' Jack's lungs felt as though they were about to burst into flames, aching and pressing. ''The fire will ravage the ship, and the bulkheads are already weakened from the fire.'' He coughed into the night, and struggled to straighten his back from the brutal force of it. ''There is only an amount of time before it leaks out of the boiler room, if it doesn't weaken the bulkheads enough to cause water to seep in.''

''For certain?''

''Yes, we have to get you to safety.''

Rose's fingers started clawing at his hair and felt her legs almost give way. Whimpering as she kissed his jaw, his ear, and his brow, she panted harshly. Her skin tasted like her; soft and sweet and salty and complex. Like clouds formed of lust. Automatically, his fingers moved to her face.

"What are you doing to me?''

Jack's sanity returned gradually. First, Rose stroked his face with tender motions and kissed his jaw softly as she might a man with a fever. The touches soothed him in ways he hadn't realised he needed. So long he'd gone without her. Without the touch of a woman that he never knew existed or needed like the air within his lungs. But her skin and her breath, her lips and her whispers led him back from the brink.

"Jack," she sighed, stroking his brows with her thumbs. She kissed his lips. Softly. Chastely. Then, she caught his gaze and smiled, her eyes as blue as cornflowers dancing in a summer field. "I'm—I can't go without you, I refuse to.''

And just like that, Jack's heart broke open. He didn't know what to say. What could he say?

''Rose, you would have to go,'' silently, he pleaded with her, his eyes instructing with the depths of the intensity of his soul.

''No, not without you.'' She breathed hard against him. ''I agreed to be your wife and do not wish to be parted before we manage to reach the altar.''

Jack lips twitched in a low grin and pulled her closer to him. Their breathes clouded about them, joining as one as they floated upwards with the wind. The temperatures had plummeted but neither felt it.

Ascending the stairs from the well deck upward to the B deck, Rose ceased growing painfully aware of the fate of her surroundings; of this ship. Around her people gathered in prayer, some simply took a brandy in a darkened corner. Veering off to one side, they were passed by Thomas Andrews and Bruce Ismay and several others, in a deep conversation. Thomas Andrews, taking a sharp glance to Jack, broke away from the party and came towards them, slowly and steadily.

''Mr. Dawson...''

Jack tensed, with his jaw tight. ''Mr. Andrews.''

Mr. Andrews held gaze with him for a few seconds before nodding in acknowledgement before re-joining his party. The weight of the stare had been heavy, and exchanging of something which Rose failed to even comprehend.

The entire contents of this ship seemed to be teeming with memories of a romance, of an engagement which seemed to have been concocted over the duration of five days. Just hours before, she had been a girl, feeling alive, and the one who had come so close to jumping from the stern of a ship was a distant dream, or perhaps, a nightmare.

A fading dream, perhaps.

Clutching her trembling hand to the rail, Rose sought the refuge of the sea. Not so far away, the bright lights of a ship cast an eerie glow across the entire deck and it was as though the ocean was a bustling city and not so vast in size.

About her, and below, orders were barked as lifeboats were been launched to evacuate people from the ship. She felt like an ant in a large swamp in contrast to what was happening about her. Across the water, it appeared that the other ship was also launching lifeboats to Titanic in order to perhaps get as many people to safety as they could. There were 2,200 souls aboard, perhaps more. The fire had been raging for hours, dawn would be approaching them soon. In the furthest corner of the earth, signs of red, orange and yellow were just highlighting the edges of the sky. Blinking through stinging eyes, Rose watched from afar as crewmen worked the lifeboats, and thought of Jack.

''How did you do that?'' Rose asked, when she felt him join her at the rail. ''How did you save the lives of those men?''

Jack pinned her beneath the sincerity of his gaze. ''I did what any man would do, and I came out of the torment with only your face in my mind.''

Rose's eyes flared wide, darting frantically along his shoulders and to his hands. Cuts shredded various parts of him, his lip was split and swollen. It was his blood that she had tasted when kissing him in the crew passage. ''Do you anticipate there is much damage done?''

''To the ship?''

''No, to you.'' As her throat rippled, she kept watching his hands. How they were only slightly swollen, with a few cuts and splinters from the wood but then his cough...

"No, don't worry about me, I'm a survivor, all right?" Catching sight of Rose's worrying expression, Jack softened. ''I seem to forget that I will have more than myself to care for in the future.'' Jack whispered, slowly, his eyes raking over her filled with such a drowsy, intense stare that it penetrated her soul and within three stride she was beside him, caressing his face. ''I am never one to be in need of help. Of-'' he almost said 'love', exposing possibly his inner soul for the very first time, if it wasn't already completely bare to her.

''You're not invincible. You're honourable. You're beautiful, but you cannot save everyone.''

''You saved yourself,'' he whispered. ''And then, you saved me.''

Rose wished to laugh. To cry. To reverse the last few hours of time and be laid within his arms again, against his chest, at a time where sleeping beside a man who wasn't her husband was the only thought to consume her mind. Now, Jack Dawson was utterly vulnerable to her.

''What would have happened, if the fire wouldn't have started tonight?'' Rose traced a finger across his inner elbow, downwards to his hand, ever so careful to not touch his sore palms. ''We were laid, so happy, right here.''

After a long hesitation, Jack smiled, resting his head upon her shoulder as she slid towards him. ''I would have held you as you slept.'' He held still as she reached to him with hesitant fingers, stroking the black silkiness of his shirt. She rose and impulsively kissed his ear and the scent of smoke clung to him but it never mattered.

''You're not like any man that I have ever known,'' she said, ''not even one I could have dreamed.''

''Rose,' he returned, his lips brushing against her brow-

''Dawson!'' Behind them, Molly was approaching with Mr. Astor, his face ashen as he turned about to see the commotion starting to appear on the decks. Jack turned to see Molly, covering her face seeing the full extent of the damage done to him. He wished to laugh at her mothering, fettling fingers.

''Goodness sake, you need a damned doctor,'' Molly fretted. ''I told you-''

''I am all right.''

For just a minute, time seemed to slow as Jack was hurled over half bent as he coughed, and Mr. Astor rubbed a hand atop the shoulder which wasn't wounded.

''We must attire you to leave on a lifeboat immediately.''

Rose was lethargically slow to move as Molly led him off, towards the interiors. There was something about her which seemed to freeze still in time. It was as though her mind was struggling to catch up with the severity of the situation. The events which had transpired of the evening and then, Jack was now injured.

''Rose-'' He called after her, but her feet couldn't move. Wouldn't move. It was as though numbness had set in. Something was holding her back, out in place.

-''Rose!''

The voice was like acid splashed across her face, disturbing the thoughts of her and Jack, and she turned on a whim to face Cal. He was dressed immaculately without so much as a shadow of tiredness or missing a shave to say the hour grew into daylight and there had been some loss of life aboard the ship. It was as though this was just a minor error, or an inconvenience. Cal approached every detail of life which such a cool appraisal outwardly that it would almost be a travesty to accuse one of what lay within.

''I am surprised to see you out here alone.''

Rose narrowed her eyes at him, perhaps he wasn't witness to Jack been taken inside without her. For that she was glad.

"So, where is the hero of the hour?" Cal approached her, with his heir of familiarity and Rose was almost thrust back against the rail. His dark gaze wondered off past her, out to the ship which would take them to sanctuary at some duration. ''I hear that he is the name on every one's lip for saving the lives of several young men from a blaze.''

"That is none of your concern." Rose raised her chin, tilted her head to meet his eyes.

"Your adventures together will no doubt be halted by his injuries."

"I don't care, why should you?"

"Smoke inhalation can kill, painfully slow..." Cal came closer, his lips near to her ear.

"Yes, I recall your deathly dull mouth and how it suppressed me so I thought I would die slowly…" Rose snapped. ''I know how it feels to be in pain from a hand at the mouth.''

Cal stepped forward in an intimidating move but she didn't budge. There was no fear lighting within her eyes, perhaps as there had been just the morning previous after he had struck her face. Tipped over the table. Tried to lure her into a sense of fright, trapping her there for the rest of her life. Perhaps it should have been enough to scare her witless, but no, it was enough to drive her to the man who had become her sanctuary.

Cal's steady hand rose, slowly, coming to rest his palm across her cheek. Within the depths of his blackness, she found no kindness or sympathy. Empty validation. Rose moved from him; allowing all of the hurt inside of her die away. Finally, her feet urged her to move, to be able to seek Jack.

"Where are you going?"

"To him."

His hand caught her elbow "To be a whore to a gutter rat?"

''Yes, I would rather be his whore than your wife.''

Cal's hands clasped onto her arms. ''I didn't know whether to be aroused or disgusted by your little portrait, but the letter accompanying it was less than amusing. I do not take lightly to be humiliated, least of all by Dawson. How I should keep the drawing and it will be worth more by morning once the value of his work will increase when he is dead.''

The drawing had changed her. The drawing of a woman who was now a different soul; a soul which she had borne to another man. If she had loathed Cal before, she detested him now. How could he ever call himself a man, when he was nothing of how Jack was with her.

Cal needed control of her, as soon as Rose had a voice then she was so easily put back into her place with a slew of words or perhaps a raised hand. God forbid she ever read a book of her own interest, attended a play of her own liking, danced the way she had wished, played a modern tune on the pianoforte. Cal was her entrapment. Her Mother was the key. Together, they had Rose in a gilded cage and she would never be allowed to be free, even if she married Cal; even with his children in her belly. Nothing would give her the passion, freedom and—love which she craved so much.

How a comment like that would have stung her, enough to raise her hand to strike his face, just as Cal did her own, now it was as worthless as the man before her.

''You unimaginable bastard.''

Cal raised his chin to face her, it appeared that he planned to use the same smooth tactics to attempt to win her heart once more. Rose could hear the anger within his breathing; his nostrils flared as though he tried to keep his temper in check.

''Keep the drawing, or allow it to sink to the bottom of the ocean where it would remain forever unseen.''

Glancing out to the ship, the numerous life boats and the mass of crowds now approaching the decks to be taken to safety, Rose felt the breeze of the early morning waken her senses. Steeling her resolve, she twisted her neck to a more comfortable position but she still didn't look at him. Then, his rough hands were on her face, forcing her to watch him with a twist of her neck.

''You will look at me when I am talking to you. Whilst we have a conversation.'' Cal spat, forcing her to the rail. ''Too ashamed to know what you have done, too ashamed for the members of society to know just what you are?''

''No.'' Rose's voice was hoarse, just above a whisper. If she wanted to move in that moment, she couldn't, for she was held down in place by his weight. ''I am more than happy for everyone to know just who I am.''

''You are nothing but a common whore.''

The blackness of his eyes was like the depths of Hell, how had she never noticed that glint of him before?

''Then, if you truly think that then why are you holding me here, in place, for all society to bear witness to just how cruel you truly can be?''

Cal stepped back, like acid had splashed his reputation. Rose stood on trembling legs, having untangled herself from some sort of web. Perhaps the past, perhaps the present.

There should have been a guilty conscious for Rose's involvement with another man, but there was nothing within her which felt an inch of anything for him. Her Mother, on the other hand, was still her flesh and blood, but one which had placed the entire weight of her own turmoil upon Rose's young shoulders. Ruth had frightened her into a damp and dark corner where she had once felt that she had no other choice, for perhaps, there would be no other choices for her to make. Women had very little say in any matters; but now, Rose had found her voice. Jack Dawson had instilled such confidence into her, enough to teach her things which she hadn't wanted to learn, perhaps even needed to, but it was now ingrained into her to be a woman.

''Goodbye, Mr. Hockley.''

''Do you truly believe that you will prosper with him?''

Rose held his gaze, confidently. ''I will prosper without you, and that it is all.''