I say I will stop writing and then I start doing nothing but writing and spitting out these different stories! This is now complete! Thanks for reviewing. I do enjoy doing little scene analysis type of fics/what happened between what we see in the movie type thing, so if you have a request then let me know :) I apparently cannot stop writing them!
Chapter two:
Fabrizio's snores in the bunk above were not the only thing interrupting Jack's ability to settle down for the night and sleep. Trying to recall the last time that he had slept in a bed, he struggled. He should have been sleeping soundly. As soundly as he usually did beneath the stars. Under bridges. On rickety trains. One never had needed to be fully surrounded by the luxury of comfort to rest his head but tonight, there was something stopping him.
The gentle hum of the engines below him, the ever so slight drill of it, should have helped to lull him to rest. But nothing. He was restless. Beyond that.
After leaving Rose at the First-Class Entrance, uncountable hours before, he had slowly made his way back to the loneliness of his bunk. As soon as she had left, it was as though the sun had shined its final rays. He had called after her; needing to know just what she needed.
Something that I can't have.
What was it?
The perfectly fluffy and full pillow beneath his head might as well have been cold stone. Instead of been able to sit up to allow his head to cool down, he couldn't without hitting his head upon the bunk above and so, he slowly slipped his body out of bed, wearing just his undergarments and a flannel top. On the floor in the pitch black, he found the borrowed tuxedo from Molly Brown. That would be his excuse to return to First-Class tomorrow as soon as the sun came up. His bottom sank to the floor, leaning back against the bed, and he ran his fingers across his forehead and through his hair before resting his head against his knee.
This was going to be bad.
The Swede's laid silently. Fabrizio would occasionally toss and turn before muttering something comprehendible in Italian. These had been the only fragments of his life for so long; art and Fabrizio. Opening his heart to the ways of the world, of submerging himself into new territory and that was exactly what he had expected to achieve tonight by attending dinner with Rose.
God, she was achingly beautiful when ascending those stars. Perhaps that was an image which he would carry with him for the rest of his life. The way her eyes had gazed at him curiously. Taking her hand, like that of a gentleman and kissing it, had caused them both to laugh like children. He knew, that was the piece of her life missing; fun. Happiness. It was key. She was treated like such a part of the furniture. The dinner which he had attended was beyond rigid in its formalities. As though if one piece was removed then the whole illusion was shattered. He wished to shatter that and remove her from the endless charade of it all. Rose was a playful creature; he had found out only by having a thorough conversation upon decks. Not only was she smart, but also, she was keen to travel. To taste. To experience. She was a daring woman; following his lead to spit off the side of a great ship whilst beside the prying eyes of upper class.
The folks there, in that world, Jack found, aside from Rose's mother and Cal, seemed to be tolerable. Pleasant. They laughed with him at dinner and enjoyed his stories and in particular, he had enjoyed Molly's eccentric side. Her storytelling had them all laughing, although some, he feared were out of politeness. Perhaps, they had listened to his stories intrigued and out of politeness. Either way, he wasn't concerned for anything other than Rose. It was when their eyes had met across the dinner table, after she had raised a glass of champagne in toast to his words that he had decided to spend more time with her that evening. To show her the freedom that she needed to see.
''Molly, have you got a pen and paper?'' He had seen her scribbling something early into a small notebook.
''Sure,'' she had opened her reticule and rooted around it for the items before beneath the table, placing them into Jack's waiting hands. ''Why the secrecy? You writing a love letter for some poor girl?''
Jack had laughed at her humour, and scribbled onto the smallest piece. Make it count. Meet me at the clock.
They were two worlds apart. And somehow, tonight, he wished to encounter them both, with her. He wanted to reach into her heart and allow her to see just how others lived. How another world existed just decks below and just how they were carefree and fun. That it wasn't about a person's image, about their stature and a tragic competition of some kind. It wasn't about monetary value but just a celebration. Of life. Of the opportunities it had to offer and when to cease them with both of your hands.
Rose had been tentative at first. As soon as she had heard the loudness of the music, the stark contrast of life below decks in comparison to her own dinner seemed to have compelled her into a state and she had followed Jack down into steerage life with such a hesitance but soon it was apparent that none of them gave a damn about a First-Class lady attending the party. Most were too drunk to even notice.
People danced together. People played card games. People sang and drank their body weight in cheap beer and at the centre of it all, Jack had found Fabrizio attempting conversations with his friend Helga trying to overcome language barriers. Tommy was engrossed in an arm wrestle with one of his Swedish bunk mates and suddenly, Cora had been at his side, pulling at his hand to dance.
But it was with Rose that Jack had wanted to dance. To see her rigid nature fall away and for her to become fluid to the music. He had seen glimpses of her fire that afternoon, upon the decks as she had spoken to him of her dreams to become some sort of artist. As though she had something within her, urging to the desire to express herself in some way. He wondered just how she had felt there, watching the crowds of people just be themselves and act in a way in which she had probably never seen.
Jack had seen how resistant she was to dance when he had offered his hand to her, had felt her nerves as he had placed his palm to the flat of her back to pull her closer. And seen the fear in her eyes, perhaps at been so close to another. Jack had dismissed it, for this was simply fear of the unknown. Fear of having never been in such a situation and thinking too much of everything. She was a deep thinker, perhaps as he was. But not of situations like this. She had to go with...and she had.
Dancing within his arms. Circling. Screaming. Clinging.
Jack had watched as a frightened, unyielding girl had been stripped of her insecurity and from it had emerged a woman. A woman who had smoked, taken back beer like no other he had seen, cussed with the rest of them and not left the party until the hours of night had dissolved into an early morning.
The decks had been completely dead. The air was cold and biting. But their mood was still on fire.
Rose was giddy. Singing with him. And he had never wanted the night to end. Just the two of them, out on the decks, in the centre of the universe beneath the bright starlight, it seemed as though it would be a moment of unforgettable moments and as they had approached the First-Class entrance; her giddiness had disintegrated. She had looked for a reason to stay, prolonging their time out for just another minute. It was in that moment; he had decided that he wouldn't be able to turn away from her.
Jack Dawson had become dazzled beneath the starlight. Their eyes, had met, the moment electrifying and once a shooting star had drawn them closer together, he never wished to be further apart. His heart pulled him closer to her, to close the small inches and put his lips on hers for the briefest second. Rose had seemed to be thinking the same, and that was when she had bolted. Afraid. His calls after her had been unanswered and now, he was wilted on the floor of the bunk. He was on edge. Restless. Nervous. Thinking; always damn thinking.
Just the night before, he was laid on a bench, smoking cigarettes and contemplating just what life held for him once he reached America and now, he found all he cared for was Rose. How much longer could she be suppressed? How much longer could she be kept in a cage? How long would she survive? Within her eyes, he had witnessed a strength. She had to be strong to live her life the way that she did, but that fire about her would soon turn to a glowing ember before completely burning out someday soon. That day he never wanted to come. Never wished to witness.
Jack couldn't ask her to leave her fiancé. Leave her mother. Leave everything that she had ever known. That was something that only Rose could do. He couldn't be the one to save her. That could only be down to her.
Closing his eyes, Jack exhaled out the stress which seemed to have built up there within his chest. He was not a man who was able to settle; perhaps, that was why he was so happy to roam the world freely. So, sleep wouldn't come to him until he had seen her again. Fabrizio snored again, and Jack opened his eyes to view pure blackness. Lifting his gaze to the porthole, it was a slightly lighter black, almost a grey and navy, and he slowly stood and walked toward it with bare feet, narrowly avoiding the sink area and glanced outwards at nothing but pure ocean. Still, Rose was within his mind. It had been that final moment, of realisation of clarity, that had changed the course of what he had felt. What he knew that she felt. The fact that she had raced away had confirmed that she was acknowledging it, too. It wasn't just that she felt alive. Felt less confined and more release. It was that barriers had been removed in such a short span of time. It seemed to be simple; he was in too deep with her, he wouldn't be able to leave her alone to live in that world. Even if it tortured him, Jack would ensure that she was all right. He would jump into deep, freezing waters for her, or with her, if he had to.
Standing at the porthole, he felt how his stomach was still a riot of everything. Emotions rushing to him. The urge to touch her face, to hold her as she danced once more. She had flourished under his gaze, under his fingers at her waist, and he was under her spell. Incredibly.
Jack's hope was never frail. Life was a gift, and wasting even a second of it, living in a world saturated by dominance of others was not an existence in which one should live. Not a woman like her.
As soon as the sun came, he would return the tuxedo to Molly and use it as a way to gain access to First-Class, he would then see her. He had to speak to her. To see her. To gauge her reaction just what he had to say.
Jack was never one to be lost for words. He could only say what was in his heart. The heart he wore so openly upon his sleeve.
Taking quiet steps back to the bottom bunk, he slid back in to close his eyes again and frustration came at him as all he saw was Rose; spinning about him, laughing, shining as bright as the stars above them out on decks. Sighing out the irritation, he turned to his side and willed sleep to come. Even for a few hours. It was hard though, knowing that a few decks above him; Rose would be as restless as he.