Chapter three:

Despite Rose's tries, she could not free herself from the grasp. Believing to have heard one of the boys speaking to another, she couldn't see for her hair had fallen out of her pins and into her face, flying about as she tried to fight against the urchins. Suddenly, it felt as though one of the boys were being pulled, and the others let go of her in such a rush that her toe caught an uneven spot on the ground and she tripped, stumbling forward with a gasp. Her arms cartwheeled as she made an attempt to maintain her balance but her body was angled too far forward and her speed only added momentum to the fall which was now inevitable. Until her entire front connected with something warm and wonderfully solid which instantly stopped her descent.

An arm came around her, bracing her against the person who'd caught her and Rose instinctively started to struggle.

''I've got you. I'm not going to hurt you,'' a masculine voice muttered, one which sounded to be different from the others. ''You have to be still.''

Peaking up from beneath her dishevelled hair, Rose gasped as a pair of cornflour-coloured eyes stared down into her with such mesmerising intensity. A darkened blond hair fell into his face, at haphazard angles; the sign of his own struggle. Expressive eyebrows knitted together in wonder, puckering from his forehead and drawing attention towards the man's nose. His face was tanned, and chiselled in a wonderful way. Dense hair hovered above his mouth which presently was set in a straight line and a few strays below his chin. His arm was around her shoulders, pressing him to her to steady the way that she had been caught. Suddenly, her heart which had been pounding before seemed to increase in such acceleration that dizziness set in. The potency of his stare almost chilled her entire body, and caught Rose in such a state of oblivion that it was difficult to shift herself forward and she even temporarily forget her own place in this world as a woman. A lady who was from one of the most regal and prominent families in Pennsylvania.

''I don't know who you are.'' Rose blurted the first thing which came to her. ''But remove your hands from me this second.''

Immediately, he did. The chill of her voice must have unsettled him.

''I'm sorry, but with all due respect, miss, you collapsed into me.'' His voice was stern but laced with concern.

Shaking legs took Rose backwards, and as her vision cleared, to see that her belongings were where she had left them on the floor. Her shawl, although dirty, lay on top. Using two hands to part her hair from her face, she saw clearly for the first time that she was alone; with a strange man. With parted dry lips, Rose ran her watery eyes up the length of him until she reached the eyes which she thought had been a figment of her imagination and they watched her with the same stare; unwavering and clear. They seemed to fill her universe and she felt a shudder run through.

''I-'' Rose tried to pin together two thoughts but it was a blur. One huge blur. Just one moment she was alone and then the next, a hand was around her mouth to silence her screams.

The man stepped forward just once, with an unlaced boot and she trembled, stepping back like a spooked horse.

''Miss, I won't hurt you.'' His voice was calm. Tender.

The wind came, whipping her hair about her face and stinging at her eyes so much that the water which had gathered there now fell down her face in a stream of tears but she didn't wipe them away, instead, she focused on the man before her. Perhaps no more than an adolescent.

''Why must men always put their hands on a woman in such a way? As though they think it is within their rights to do so?'' Rose's eyes raked over the dishevelled state of his attire, his rumbled clothes before, then, doing so with her own. They didn't look so miles apart.

''A couple of local common thieves I would say. But they're gone and they won't hurt you again, I promise you that.'' His voice softened as he finished, before he added somewhat hesitantly. ''Neither will I.''

Rose noticed that he was clutching his left knuckle in his right and assumed that he had struck one or both of them to send them away.

''Are you hurt?''

''No, Miss.'' He unveiled a small cut across his knuckle to her, but she didn't wince at the site. ''I only caught his nose, it's probably broken, that's all.''

Rose tilted her chin up, a notch. To some she might have seemed confident, in that moment but she sensed the stranger didn't miss the tremor in her jawline or the pulse vibrating in her neck. He seemed to watch her with such an intensity that it was like her entire soul was exposed.

''Well, you may now leave me alone.'' Even Rose's voice was too strained and a notch too high, as though she was convincing herself as well as he.

She glanced around quickly before returning her gaze to him and raising her chin even higher. With a raised eyebrow, the man cocked his head to the left, and beneath the sun which had now returned from behind the clouds it made his eyes shine with a little amusement.

Rose was out of breath. Truly. Yet, the thought of been aboard the Titanic still didn't appeal to her, and try as she might, she felt no fear standing before the man. His clothes were rumpled, but felt soft to touch even as she had been thrust against his chest when almost falling right into his arms. There had been no unpleasant smell as perhaps one assumed would accompany these—peasants, as Cal would often refer to them.

''Well, well, you are rude.''

Rose fixated her stare upon him, in a somewhat intimidating way.

''Pardon me?''

''A guy helps you and I am asked to leave right away.''

''Well, if you wait a second, I have a few coins-'' Rose started for the reticule which she carried about but his voice stopped her.

''I don't want your money, Miss. But I would settle for your name.''

Her scalp prickled, but then it disappeared into thin air. ''My-my name?''

''Yes. I'm Jack Dawson.'' Stepping forward once, then again, he was a few yards away when he extended his hand out to hers to shake; like one gentleman to another. Formalities was clearly beyond his social class. Glancing at his knuckles, she saw how broken the skin was, how calloused his fingers were but before she could stop herself, her delicate and dirty hand slipped into his and shook just once. He never flinched from the dirt. His grip was firm but gentle.

''Rose. Rose DeWitt Bukater.''

''I think I may have to get you to write that one down.''

Rose laughed, without even meaning to. Jack was the one to release her hand and took a step backwards before he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a tray full of rolled cigarettes. Watching the way in which he moved was arresting to her; it made her curious and equally envious to not have such restrictions placed upon ones back.

''Do you smoke?''

Rose pulled back the hand which Jack had just touched and it was like cradled an electric current. She concentrated on his question.

''When I can.''

''Can you smoke now?''

Amusement lurked on his face, pulling at the ends of wonderfully flushed lips.

''Yes.''

Nodding, he offered one to her in the tray and she shakily took it.

''Thank you.''

Having never touched a cigarette without it being in a holder before, Rose simply rolled it between her fingers idly and watched as Jack lit his expertly with a match and puffed, as the cloud drifted away with the breeze. It was effortless, alluring in a way...

''Do you need help with that?''

''Actually, I'm not so used to just-''

Sensing her discomfort, Jack took the unlit cigarette from between her fingers and offered her the one which he had lit, the one which he had puffed on. Hesitantly, she examined the end as though any poison could be seen lingering before placing it between her lips and taking a long drag, as surprisingly strong as it was burning her chest; it was wonderfully welcoming. Calming...

Jack had lit his own cigarette now, and gathered his jacket about his body and exhaled the remains of the smoke, watching as it went off on its own little journey.

''So, Rose, what are you doing out here picking fights with the local criminals?''

Rose was awkward for a variety of reasons. As much as she didn't need to go into detail of her story, there was an instinct to trust this stranger.

This Jack Dawson...

Neither had noticed but they had drawn closer, their eyes washing over the lake as it rushed out to the sea. The breeze which came with it was lovely, the sun overhead not too warm but enough to take away the chill. It was days like today which Rose had appreciated the most, always.

''I was due to sail today. I stepped away for just a second and the opportunity to board was gone.''

''The Titanic?'' Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise.

''Yes.''

''Well, that's quite a disappointment. Are you with family?''

''No, they're aboard, I am afraid. I was hoping to find suitable accommodation for a night and then alert somebody to my absence and the reasoning behind it.'' The truth came out without great effort conversing with a stranger was nothing short of unchallenging. The challenge would be, perhaps, how to proceed from this very moment.

''Well, I would say you're in the wrong part of town for that.'' Jack eyed her dress. ''Although with the look of that, I don't know if they would let you into the usual jaunt's I bet you're used to.''

The entirety of her gown was beyond repairs. Shakily, Rose took a long exhale from the cigarette, trying to concentrate on just that; breathing. It hadn't occurred just what her mother must be thinking now; her only child vanished into thin air. Not just her child but also, the central reason of many blessings to come. Rose would be the answer to her mother's financial prayers.

''Have you got any family here in England? London...''

''No, not a soul.'' Rose answered him quietly. She was truly alone. Up until a little while ago, that had been completely enthralling...appetising and appealing. Now, a slow fear crept in. It wasn't crippling, just yet.

''So, you're American?''

The question caused her to blink out at the bubbling lake, crawling towards the sea. Just above a seagull crowed about, joining another and flying about in a circle to find food, they hovered about before flying North.

''Yes, as are you.''

Jack laughed, kicking some dirt from the toe of his boot before he spied an untied lace and dropped to the floor to tie it. His cigarette dangled idly from his lips and he squinted up to her. Rose's delicate jaw dropped open, just a little, in the most unladylike manner one could ever be as the blue flash of his eyes were enough to cause even the most rigid of souls to melt. They were wonderfully different to any others she had ever encountered. The cigarette which she held was mostly blowing away with the breeze. Somehow, she found herself wishing that he would clench his fingers in the mass of fabric which surrounded her ankles. A cool sweat had broken out at the nape of her neck and one assumed it was from the length of her hair, limping around her stiff collar. Forcing a bland expression, even as her heart thumped, Rose squared her shoulders and tried to adjust the layers of dirty white skirts which surrounded her, having never felt so conscious of her attire, and yet so utterly careless.

''Yeah, it's just been so long since I heard a voice from home.''

Rose's curiously startled her and before thinking, she asked, ''how long?''

''Three years.'' Jack stood, at full length beside her. His eyes burning into her own, in a chilling way. Flicking ash away, he cocked his head, nodding at her. ''What about you?''

He gave her full perusal, acknowledging that she was a woman of a higher station than he.

''Three months.''

Jack laughed, and the sound was beautiful. It lingered about in her ears, even after he stopped and it had reduced to a smirk. ''So, what brings a lady out of her home country to wind up here, with the criminals, huh?''

Rose detected that her cigarette had now burned out, and instinctively, she brought it up to her mouth, to inhale but it was completely dead. Jack exhaled his own, and came to her without so much of an invitation and connected his still burning tobacco to her own, cupping his hands about to shield from the wind. His fingertip touched her lip just for a brief moment and she gasped, almost causing the cigarette to fall to the ground but Jack held onto it.

''Hey, just breathe in now, and then out. You're lit again.''

Rose breathed in. Then out. That much was hard to do when his presence was so overpowering to her. As he backed away, she sensed that his muscles had tensed, so much that perhaps they had trembled. Or was that just her? Just inhaling the tobacco made her dizzy again, his close proximity had caused her to feel lighter on her feet.

''Thank you.''

''So, Rose, what brings you out here?''

''I am about to enter into matrimony, and my fiancé arranged for us to tour Europe before we would return to Philadelphia for a spring wedding.''

Jack seemed to consider her for a moment. ''Well, he must be worried sick with you missing the passage and all. Perhaps you should find a place for the night and call at the offices first thing to see if they can get you on another ship out as soon as they can.''

''Yes, I intend to do just that.''

Suddenly, she was as curious of the man before her. The one who had potentially saved her life. Or at least, saved her from been the victim of local thieves.

''I can help you find shelter if you like.'' Rose's stomach suddenly was an absolute riot of nerves. ''It is the least that I can do to ensure that you're safe.'' Jack discarded of his cigarette quickly, before nodding to the suitcase upon the floor. ''Is that yours as well?''

Wide eyed, Rose stared at him as he took a few cautious steps towards her.

''Are you all right?'' His eyes were examining her. Raking over her torn dress. The delicate buttons which had once been hand painted and sewn onto a beautiful Parisian dress were now scattered about the dirty ground and partially her left shoulder and top of her chest was exposed. She hadn't felt the breeze until now, not until his eyes had burned across her flesh like a fire.

''I-I'm just bruised, I suspect.'' Rose managed, in a voice much weaker than the one she had used when they had first met. Her lips were numb, a soft tremble then came but she bit it away, licked her lips and used her shaking hands to attempt to pull together the torn pieces of her dress.

Jack seemed to curse, hiding some contempt or anger, whichever it was, Rose wasn't familiar with a man dealing with it so openly, but then hiding it so poorly. Pulling the dark and heavy woollen grey jacket from his shoulders, he held it out to her to take.

''Put this on. It'll cover you.''

Too spellbound to even contemplate to argue, Rose hesitantly took the garment from him and as best as she could pulled it across her shoulders and struggled her arms into it. Glancing downward, one had to squeeze her eyes closed to see just how truly terrible she appeared. Even Jack was better dressed than she in an extremely baggy once-white shirt, grey trousers and suspenders which she suspected had been used for too many years. Swallowing away a lump, Rose clutched the lapels to her own flesh to cover the exposed skin there before gaining the confidence to raise her eyes to the man who had seen more of her decollate than any other and yet was a complete stranger.

''Thank you.''

Clutching his own belongings in his left hand, he slowly went to the worn leather suitcase and picked it up effortlessly. The scent of Jack which lingered on his garment seemed to be an intoxicating combination and suddenly, as he turned, the wind ruffling his hair about his face, Rose felt as though she had been shot through the heart with something. Like a jolt. It seemed to cease her breathing and then send her wits clattering about.

''I know that you don't wish to come with me, but this is no place for a lady.''

Offering his arm, she hesitated.

''Where will you take me?''

''Somewhere safe where you can get some rest and decide what to do next.'' Jack's eyes went to her neck, and she felt the urge to pull his jacket further across her until he spoke and jutted his chin up at a hint of red at the base of her throat. ''You've been nicked. Might be wise to have that wound tended to.''

Apprehension captured her features, as she saw him tamp down some sort of anger. ''I-''

''You'll not be harmed. You have my word. I just want to make sure that you're all right.''

Rose seemed to consider and then, with the greatest degree of hesitation, she stepped forward and accepted his escort like a lamb agreeing to accompany the wolf and yet, above all, she trusted him.