"Jack I want you to draw me like one of your French girls," Rose told him. He nodded. He would do anything for her. The feeling of the hard diamond in his hand was astounding. Rose gestured to it.

"Wearing this," she said. Jack nodded again. Of course, his art skills would never do her beauty justice, but he would try. She had asked, so he would deliver.

"Wearing only this."

Jack heard a crack in his neck as his head shot up to look at Rose. She looked a little nervous, but Jack knew a look of determination when he saw one. His mind screamed. You won't be able to do this, his brain told him. Jack told his brain to stop it.

"Alright," he said quietly, barely a whisper. She smiled at him.

"I'm going to go get ready. You can rearrange the room any way you need to," she told him. He pulled her to him and gave her a quick kiss, still reveling in the new softness that was Rose. She smiled again and left the room.

Jack glanced around the room, shaking his arms a little, trying to get the nerves out of himself. You CAN do this, he told himself. It's just another girl. You've drawn them before. You can draw them now. But it was different. No girl before had cause Jack to feel what he felt now with Rose. He shook his head, smiling. She was free now. She had chosen him over her fiancé. She loved him.

He grabbed the sofa and pulled it to the center of the room. He rearranged the pillows, trying to make it aesthetically pleasing, but still comfortable in every way possible for Rose.

After considering, he also pulled his suspenders off, wanting to be comfortable himself. He had no idea how long this drawing would take. He took out his charcoal and began sharpening the tip of one, reveling in the familiarity and comfort it brought him. Jack heard the door creak and looked up. His breath was taken away immediatly.

Rose was wearing only an expensive silk kimono. She twirled the end of it in a way that might seem suggestive to others, but Jack knew she was nervous. He smiled at her, wanting to show her she could trust him. There was no need to fear him. They gazed at each other for a tiny bit. Finally, Rose spoke.

"The last thing I need is another drawing of me looking like a porcelain doll," she began. Jack took this to heart. She wanted it as realistic as possible. "As a paying customer," she tossed a dime into his lap, "I expect to get what I want."

Jack grinned at her, relaxed, and then, slowly, hesitantly, Rose lifted her hands to her shoulders and slowly removed her robe...

xXxXx

April 14, 1912

Jack woke up with a start. That dream left him gasping. It had felt so real! It started out in a rich room with the two of them examining the diamond, then took a more...interesting turn. Jack had ended up drawing Rose, wearing little more than a two inch diamond.

Jack felt the heat flare into his cheeks. It wasn't right to be dreaming about Rose like that. After last night, though, he wasn't sure about anything. She had been so distressed, and then suddenly, her lips were on his. He had no idea how it had been for her, but for Jack...it just felt right. Like she belonged with him. Their lips had molded perfectly together and made Jack long for more. He pushed that thought out of his head. What would make Rose want him, the poor wandering artist? What could he offer her?

Freedom, a voice in the back of his head told him. You know darn well that she could be free with you, instead of being trapped with a first class brat. You could show her the world.

No, she didn't deserve him. She deserved much better.

But does she want better? The annoying voice asked. She seems to have an odd attachment to you.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Jack said aloud.

"Hmm?"

Jack turned to notice a groggy-looking Rose looking confused next to him.

"Oh, just talking to my brain," Jack explained, a little embarassed at being caught fighting his conscience about her. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," Rose responded, stretching across the bit of straw on the floor. The train seemed to still be going full speed. "You?"

Jack hesitated.

"What?" Crap. She noticed.

"Nothing...just had an odd dream," he said. The truth, just not the whole truth.

"About what?" Dammit!

Um..." You. You and me. Me drawing you. You wearing a diamond. You wearing only a diamond. None of these answers were exactly answers he wanted to share with her.

"About you and me...on a ship," he said, thinking about the first dream he had of them. Rose gazed at him intently.

"And?"

"And what?" Jack didn't like that she was prying so much about this dream.

"What happened?"

"We...were on the deck of the ship. The Titanic, I think. Well, I was on the uh...what do ya call it...poop deck. You were above me on the higher deck."

Rose stared at him. Why was she reacting this way? Was it because he was dreaming about her? Was that innappropriate?

"Sorry," he added, unsure of how to go with this.

"About what?" She looked confused now, but still had a serious look on her face.

"For...dreaming about you? I know I just makes things between us awkward."

Rose barked out a laugh. "You made things awkward?"

"Well...yeah. Dreaming about the girl I barely know? Especially..." He broke off. Don't tell her, don't tell her. She should not know about what you dreamed last night.

"Especially...?"

Don't tell her, don't tell her, don't tell her. Don't lie to her.

"Especially...the rest of the dream," he said. Now what?

"What was the rest of the dream?" She looked...scared?

"Um..." Jack honestly didn't know what to tell her. He'd only dreamed about her twice. He'd told her the other dream, and he wasn't going to tell her about last night's, not on his life.

"We...were at the front of the ship all of a sudden..." He began, desperately trying to make something up. He hadn't expected Rose's eyes to widen to the size of saucers.

"We were...at the front of the Titanic?" She whispered. Jack nodded, confused as to why that would affect her so much. She sat back on her heels.

"Do...do you want to hear more?" Jack asked, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.

"No...that's fine. I hope you still slept okay," she said, her breathing shaking a little.

"I did," he affirmed. She nodded, and looked up at the ceiling. They sat in silence for a little, thinking about their own things. Finally, Jack couldn't take it any more and spoke.

"So...we'll be arriving in Paris sometime tomorrow, I think," he commented. Rose nodded.

"And once we get there?" She questioned.

"We wander," he said simply.

"Okay," she replied, then sat back in silence once more, the only sound being the rumbling of the train. Jack sighed inwardly. Things were too akward between the two of them now. It was all becuase of that damn kiss.

What had she been thinking? What would cause her to want to kiss him like that? He wasn't complaining of course, but it dug deep into him. Rose hadn't said anything about it since then, leading Jack to believe it was just a kiss for comfort, a kiss she didn't actually want, just a kiss she needed.

Of course, it wasn't Jack's right to have her maybe like him back, even a little. He just sometimes wished the world were more fair. He wished he could be a first class man to be able to love someone like Rose.

Wait. Love? Is that what he was beginning to feel, deep inside his bones? Oh, no, thought Jack. Not good. There was no way...Rose had just been stranded with a stranger and he was falling for her? What was the matter with him? What was he to do now?

Tell her how you feel, thought the little voice in the back of his head. A larger one tried to drown that thought out.

No way, it argued. Too slim of a chance that she feels the same way.

But she kissed you last night.

It wasn't a real kiss. Just a friendly, comforting kiss.

But the way it made you feel...

It doesn't matter what I feel, it's about what Rose feels.

It could be possible she feels what you do.

But if she doesn't? I'm a sick person. Dreaming about kissing her more...dreaming about drawing her...it's not right.

It is, the voice insisted.

No. I need to stop it, the stronger voice inside Jack said. He glanced over at Rose. He didn't want to hurt her...but he couldn't hurt her by giving into his own feelings.

"Rose," he began. She looked up.

"When...when we get off this train...I'm going to contact your fiancé."

She stared at him in horror. "No! Why?"

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. That tone was already making him second guess his decision.

"You...don't belong here with me. You deserve someone who can take care of you."

"I'm fine," she exclaimed, jumping up to look him in the eye. "I like it here with you."

"But in a few months–"

"I don't care," she interrupted. Why was this woman so determined?

"Rose. The life I lead is not pleasant. I don't want to force you to suffer days without food. I don't want you to go without washing for weeks upon end, to have to scavange for money. I want you to live a happy, rich life. You deserve it."

"Jack...you don't understand," Rose told him pleadingly. "I'm not happy with that life! That's why I'm here with you. I like being with you.You are the most...amazing thing that's ever...happened to me."

Jack stopped breathing a little. "You don't mean that."

"I do, Jack. I don't wang my rich life back. My fiancé had me trapped under his thumb. Being free...doing all this," she gestured her arms wide, "this is what I want."

Jack had to hold back tears. But why? What was so great about him? He was nothing to her. He sat down suddenly.

"I...I need to...take a nap," he said, even though he really didn't. He needed to end this conversation. Rose nodded slowly, seeing that he wanted time alone and backed up.

"I'll...just be outside then," she told him. She glanced back hesitantly before leaving, looking like she wanted to tell him something.

Jack put his head between his legs after Rose walked out. Why was he rejecting her? This woman was making him crumble. He used to be so confident...but something about her manner, the way she spoke to him, the way she looked at him...it was...familiar and it scared him.

Jack sat like this for a long while and eventually tired, drifting into a fitfull sleep, with a vision of a tragic morning on the ocean, and diving deep into the frozen sea.