Chapter thirty-six.

"I had expected to be sought out before today."

Caledon Hockley may have stood tall, proud and unnerving but his face gave away the slight nerves behind his apparent solid demeanour. The last time either party had seen each other was aboard the Titanic as Lovejoy had been led away and Rose had seen his face disintegrate into the vast crowds of waiting passengers. Any lasting image of that moment had vanished from her life when he had. There was very little need for her to even consider thoughts of him, having removed him from her life as easy as he had come into it the year before.

At this moment though, Rose had no reason to sit at the leather upholstered chair within Jack's office that he had offered to her as they had entered, instead, opting to stand and stare in the face of what could have once been the Devil but now, he was tired, she could tell. Weary. And today, at that very moment, she recalled would have been the day which she would marry him. Become Mrs. Rose Hockley. How the name would have felt like acid upon her tongue especially when in the presence of them both, the one who she believed she could never have and then the one who would have become her husband. Irony wasn't lost on her, neither was her lot of luck.

''No,'' Rose felt his voice prickle up her spine as he had spoke. He was attired beautifully but his hair had rapidly fallen out of place and hung almost desperately in his eyes. He was tired, sluggish and although Rose sensed he hadn't touched a drink in hours, the smell of it still lingered about. Perhaps in the wake of something so tragic; he had turned to the bottle. Maybe the great man did have feelings buried deep within his layers of self-importance and arrogance after all.

''My husband and I have no reason to seek you out, Mr. Hockley, nor did we intend to.'' Her body seemed to stand taller than before, her shoulders back and weightless, perhaps it was the confidence which Jack had instilled into her.

Cal's dark eyes narrowed to Jack, who cautiously stood beside Rose. At the mention of the word husband, Rose had sensed the tilting of Cal's head, the straightening of his spine.

Outwardly, he was a polished and put together man about to turn thirty years old and yet, here was a man about to fall apart due to not getting his own damned way; just like a child. Studying his reaction ensured she feared him less than she ever had. What could she fear only his upper hand? A cut and bruise would be gone in a few days. He would never do more than that for fear of his own reputation been in tatters. He had run away from his actions onboard the Titanic and yet, still seemed to stand here as though he was owed some kind of apology.

''Why are you here?''

''I came to offer my condolences,'' Cal told her, directly, and not even glancing to Jack. ''I am so very sorry to hear of your mother's death and I simply came to offer whatever help that I could extend-''

''-no help is required, thank you. And, I do accept your condolences, although, there was never a need to personally extend them, a letter would have sufficed.''

''A letter which you would have disposed of.''

Rose caught his gaze. ''Perhaps.''

Then, with a fumbling leather gloved hand, he reached into his pocket and extracted a crumbled letter. ''I did come to address you, also, Mr. Dawson.''

Instinctively, Jack stepped in front of Rose, as though his own body was a human shield at whatever Cal would throw at them. The deep, darkness in his eyes mirrored the hatred within his own sapphire ones. His own heart still pumped from the kiss which he and Rose had shared minutes before in the billiards room; he knew that their feelings mirrored the other. Whatever happened from that moment onwards, they would be in it together as man and wife would and that was the ultimate achievement of this marriage, beyond all what they would build together; they were already united and held an affinity.

Cal's tone seemed calm. Casual. Inside, there was no doubt he was wrecked from whatever had happened to him in these last weeks.

''Go on.''

''I am a man of business as you know, and I have a proposition for you.'' Extending his hand to Jack, he offered the envelope. Jack made no move to accept it.

''I don't want to discuss anything with you. Dawson Steel is no longer fully mine to do anything with, and even if it was, I wouldn't wish to offer even a scrap of metal to you.''

Cal shifted his weight from his left foot, to the right, regarding Jack with a faint frown of concern. ''Perhaps we could discuss this without the presence of a lady, it is a vulgar topic and you and I could come to some agreement.''

Jack was torn between laughing and delivering some sort of right hook to Hockley's face. Perhaps the latter would awaken his loss of senses—or apparent hearing. It would have erased some of the anger which whilst had gone, still flared now and again. Instead, he had taken the higher road because violence wouldn't do anything but prevent them from moving forwards from this moment onwards.

''Mr. Hockley, I am afraid that with or without the presence of my wife, I have nothing further to discuss with you.''

''Is this to do with the negotiations between my father you uncle? About the lease deal that would have allowed my father to build rail tracks over Dawson land in New York over the corner of the estate land.''

Jack narrowed his eyes in perusal. ''Eric Dawson could think ten times faster than most people and he remembered everything. He loved to jab, duck and dodge all for the pure fun of keeping his opponent off balance. The mental exercise had everyone exhausted and infuriated including the lawyers, and the most maddening part was that he enjoyed it all immensely.''

Hockley remained silent.

''Eric Dawson was a brilliant businessman. Unlike any other or so I hear, but his views were bright. His decisions were precise and his investments were wise. Never had he made an unclean deal in his life. And I admit that I seem to lack everything which he had.''

''But my father managed to secure the tracks.''

''But in return, he came perilously close to losing a fortune in mineral rights from his own property. He lost a fortune in contracts in 1909 and then just last year, the press was stating just how poor the quality of steel had gone down. How the prices had soared to try to cover the loss of money he had lost.''

Not for the first time, Jack wondered how Hockley could be so perceptive about people and yet understand so damned little about them.

Looking troubled, Hockley started to pace about. Rose leant against the dark oak of the desk, quietly insisting to stay.

''Negotiations are a game to my father and to me.''

''I know. You play to win, right, just like poker. But it's far from a game to tenants losing their income, or their homes.''

Hockley stopped at the fireplace mantel and reached up to rub the hair at his neck. ''I consider that things mean differently to you and I.''

''Yes, perhaps because of the way that we were raised. Or perhaps because you believe the only way to deal with business is to be ruthless. That doesn't make you, or your father a winner, it just makes you known as a hard person.''

Hockley looked at him steadily. ''I apologise for my actions of that night.'' Bolding, his eyes flickered to Rose, back to Jack and then right into the fiery depths of the grate.

It was moments like this, which Jack realised how seldom Hockley held his gaze, or anyone's, for longer than a second. He seemed to ration his moments of connection as if they were somehow dangerous to him.

Rose sideward glanced to Jack, her expression harsh set and her chin raised. The mention of it was causing something to flare inside and Jack placed his hand, quietly atop hers on the desk and she stopped gripping the edge of the wood so harshly.

''What would you have achieved by it?'' Rose broke the momentary silence, moving her hand from beneath Jack's she folded them across her chest, calming her racing heart.

Hockley raised his gaze, surprised by her involvement. Looking to Jack, who remained unmoved, he shook his head like a commoner. ''Revenge, perhaps. You had already left, your mother had gone along to see what all of the madness was about and suddenly, I was left alone to deal with the-'' he closed his eyes, moving away from the fire for a moment, ''the jealousy.'' With determination, he carried on, ''I had sensed the attraction from the moment he returned you from the stern that night when you almost fell overboard and try as we might to keep you away, there was no denying the interest.''

Jack exhaled, slowly, wiping his hair from his eyes, he swallowed before speaking. ''Hockley, there was never any intentions of what did happen between Rose and I.'' He spoke the truth so far. ''I was aware of her engagement but also, I knew just how unhappy she was and I know how you looked at her as nothing more than a future business venture. A vessel.''

Jack knew that if there was a time to defend himself, now it was right, but Hockley was silent. Standing. Fiddling with the cufflinks which bore the family stamp.

Cal finally spoke. ''I saw you as a wonderful, bright, young girl, with perhaps too much fire and wit about you. That I thought would have dampened but it never did. The fire kept going and burning until you were also out of control like a child.''

''And that was why you treat me like a child, in need of bringing to heel and stamping out, wasn't it?'' Rose bit back, the said temper unable to curb. ''You wanted me to sit, be decorative and to never so much as look up. I could have screamed so many times, the endless dinners, the charade of it all exhausted me.'' Rose was maddened. Maddened to the very core.

His head came up in a snap.

''Rose.'' There, within those dark and once cold eyes, she saw flashes of something else. Something human.

Clearly, her own exhaustion had worn away whatever armour had carried her through these past few years. There was nothing left of her bravado, of her determination to move on from grief. This was rage. Pure rage, spewing forth in the most undignified fashion, revealing far too much. The need to spew out anything toward him, to hurtle words that could damage him, just how she had been and still was.

''I did this, all of it, I escaped the life which I had. I became another woman. I made myself a better life. I fell in love.'' She thought perhaps tears were spilling down her cheeks, but she could barely feel her skin. ''I ran away from it all to find my own happiness.'' Gaining a shaky breath, her eyes fixed him a dangerously icy glare, which he dismissed quickly.

'' I actually do understand why you are behaving this way." He told her. "I know why you were melancholy. I don't pretend otherwise."

''I know you regretted our engagement for the shame that I brought. I know you thought that I could be a little wifey who would sit and be commanded like a foreman at your mill. You raised your hand to me when I was disobedient and you threatened me, to put me back in line.''

Listening to the minor details of a relationship, between two people who had once been engaged felt beyond voyeuristic to Jack, but he wouldn't leave. He couldn't. He was riveted. Waiting. Needing to know perhaps the full extent of what had occurred. Even though he was now married to Rose, these two still had a past. Connections. They needed to be severed now. The book had to be closed now.

Hockley was breathing faster, his eyes dilating, his face tight. He did not respond. So, she lashed him again.

''Oh, go away, I cannot bear to look at you anymore! You were a coward! A man who believes himself to be so large when in fact he barely fits on the head of a pin!''

Hockley stood still.

"With any other as your wife, you would not treat her as you have treated me in the past, would you? You would not become infuriated by her as you did me!''

Still, he refused to answer.

"Admit it!" she shouted.

"It is true," he said hoarsely, "I would not, you captured me and infuriated me and when I could not control you, I retorted to other—methods.''

Jack's jaw went tight and he held in his breathe. Having known perhaps the full extent of Hockley's cruelty, of the lengths he would have gone to separate Jack and Rose. Even as they had stood on a sinking ship.

Hockley went to speak, but Jack stepped forward. ''You have no right to be here. We don't wish to hear of this any longer. The way in which you acted that night need never come to light if you never set foot near either my wife or I again.''

The harsh reality set in and quietly, he went to the fire and disposed of the wrinkled envelope within it and watched it the fire consumed it, claimed it and the contents which had never been read. Resting his palm against his head, Hockley seemed to collect the wits which had been scattered about during his time at the Dawson household. Glancing between them both, a fire was evident and not a one in need of stoking at any point.

''Shall I tell my father you refused his offer?''

Jack nodded, once.

''And that you will not be attending the memorial of Mrs. DeWitt Bukater?''

Jack glanced to Rose, who's eyes lit up in realisation now. It was Nathan Hockley who had arranged the damned thing, perhaps to entice Rose and Jack into the public domain together. For what reasons were unknown.

''I have no reason to attend such a thing, Mr. Hockley. Go and make a spectacle and play the grieving man, for I am happy to grieve for my mother in my own way without the eyes of society upon me for once.''

Rose watched Cal's shoulders slump, his head bowing, his hand running through his hair in a gesture which wasn't reminiscent of the man she had known at all. He looked so weary, so worn. There was a fine sheen of something across his tanned face, sparkling in the dim light. As his lips parted, she noticed how dry they seemed to be.

''I appreciate your time, then.''

Rose would have almost felt sorry for him, if she hadn't known just how close to the Devil his anger had taken him. How he had almost killed Jack if given the chance just weeks before derived of jealousy. Somehow, she had convinced herself it could not be worse, that the gnawing pain of her mother, of almost losing Jack, of how Cal had treated her, how he had almost killed her, or Jack and yet, how he had cared for her, it was all tied up together in one huge bow of confusion. Perhaps life had been experienced to its fullest, and that hearing this - the truth would only confirm her worst suspicions, allowing her to finally untether herself from him, from her mother and to move on. At some point during her thoughts, he had left the room and exited their lives, possibly for good.

Rose stumbled backward, her hand forming a claw at the centre of her chest, needing to rip out her own heart. Needing the anguish to stop. Turning blindly for the door, her steps faltered, they were awkward and unsynchronised, the world around her moving out of rhythm. Someone was saying her name and holding her, from behind with arms that felt tender toward her.

''I will not let you go.'' The cry was an echo of hers—the same torment. The same need. Rose squeezed her eyes closed, Jack's body curving about hers from behind. His arms held her so fiercely that she almost lost her breath.

"Rose," Jack groaned, his voice raw, his face pressing into her neck in a way that he did, but now, it felt different and ignited something strange within her stomach. A fire. That fire which Cal had suppressed, before Jack had torn her wide open to burn forever. "My Rose." His hands found hers where they pressed into her abdomen. He clasped one and brought it up to cup his cheek, holding it captive there.

''He was sorry, I know that he was. But I can never forgive. I can never—not for what he did to you.''

Jack soothed her there.

''I know that.'' He whispered. ''I watched you for some time with him and I wanted to take him apart. I saw you—with him, as good as he thought he was for you, I still wanted a bullet in him.''

She pulled away enough to see Jack's face. He looked quite grave. "You were enemies.''

A frown tugged at his brow. "No, at least, not that I ever truly thought. We were once very nearly friends.''

Stiffening again, he pulled away and paced to his desk. ''God knows how I hated him but the only thing that hurt me more was trying to stay away from you.''

Walking toward him, she began to pull pins from her hair, letting the strands unravel and tumble down her back. Boldness had never come easily to Rose, but if ever a night called for it, this was the night. With Jack, here, in this moment, she would be bolder than the Rose who had flirted with him upon the decks of the ship. Who had wished for a young artist to draw her without clothes.

''You left me too easily but then, you came back and then, after the fire, I knew I had to marry you."

Pain and confusion darkened his eyes. ''I was about to release you from our deal but you insisted on looking after me. Bathing me, battling with me."

''I would do it all again.'' Rose felt her icy exterior break, shatter and dissolve revealing parts of her she had buried. ''I-just-was suffocated. I was so damned trapped. I hated that life.''

''You mean this life?'' He indicated to the walls and ceilings; the things he had very fears of. The very things which they were to run away from. To find a true happiness, together.

''No, let me speak now!'' She cried. ''I-I may have even fallen in love with you. I was infatuated by you at first, until you kissed me and then I just fell from a great height and now regardless of it all, I just want a life with you."

His head jerked back, his eyes flaring.

''I never wish to control what we do. Where we go. I only wish to comfort you, be the one you run to.''

Rose sighed. ''Then, comfort me, like how you know how to.''

Rounding the table, to come to her, the trembling started then. His eyes were butter soft, his skin glistening from the heat of the room and his breath was right there beside her, on her cheek and it was-

''You made me feel unsettled.'' Confessing into the silence, the words came out at the exact same time that she thought them within her affected head.

''I am. For you.''

Rose moved towards him, but he maintained the distance between them, retreating step for step. Determination seemed to fuel her, somehow for some reason. Her body came within a breath of his, her neck craned to meet his troubled eyes.

''Do you know how to comfort me?''

''Yes,'' he narrowed his eyes to her, watching how her chest was erratic, struggling to catch a breath. Jack looked hunted, his eyes darting over her shoulder then down to her chest where her collar was open slightly showing that glowing pale skin, then back to her face, as though he had decided something terribly important and his chin came up just a fraction with a resolute gaze. ''But you are in pieces."

''What if you collected them," Rose hooked her fingers inside his collar and tugged until his woollen work jacket began to peel off. "Show me how to be whole again." Dropping the black coat to the floor, she next slid her hands around his waist. Her fingers reached beneath to grasp the linen hem of his shirt and pulled it clear of his trousers. "And you love me fully. With your entire soul."

The iris of her eyes was wide, the blue smouldering as she could only penetrate his gaze, his skin and down to the very root of his belly, his soul and he could only nod in agreement. Jack Dawson wanted to stammer. To almost cry. ''Forever.''

There, within each other's eyes, they found old bruises healing. Light forming fully for the first time in an otherwise darkened life. Tragedy had brought them close. Enabled them to marry. To find a peace, a clarity in a modern man-made world which was forever changing. They would only navigate this world together.

That's it. Done. Finished! Six months of putting so much into hopefully was an epic, alternative story of Jack and Rose. I hope you all have enjoyed reading as much as I have writing.

Special massive huge thanks to reveriee! For helping me so much re-discover my love for this and helping me work on the ending. For helping me break my writers block. And for the general chats!

Lastly, I say this a lot, but I am taking a smallish break over Xmas and New Year to gather myself but I will be back soon with another epic, sweeping story which I am writing as we speak!

Thank you. :)