YAY! Another Titanic one-shot! Hope you enjoy this one, it's been bouncing around in my head for a while now. Had Jack lived, I think he would've wrestled with whether he was giving Rose the life she deserved. And Rose, whom I personally believe is much stronger than most give her credit for, would quickly reassure him that his love is all she needs. Anyway... enjoy & leave a review if you wish! (As always, I don't own Titanic!)

Fever

Jack was already in bed when I entered the room, an arm draped over his eyes to shield him from the soft glow of the oil lamp. He must have another headache.

I removed my housecoat and lay it over the foot of the bed. I hurried to turn down the lamp and join him under the quilts. Our small apartment did little to ward off the autumn evening chill. "Jack, are you alright?"

"Fine, just tired is all," he sighed, uncovering his face and curling the arm around my waist.

"Was it a long day?" I asked, keeping my voice soft, so as not to cause him more pain.

He scoffed. "Everyday is a long day at that damn factory."

I pressed a kiss to his slightly whiskered jaw. I'd seen the purple bruises forming forming beneath his dark lashes lately. He's absolutely exhausted, I know, but his hand on the small of my back is far too warm. "Jack..." I begin to say, but he stops me before I have the chance to voice my fears.

"I know, Rose," he whispers. "S'nothin' though. Fever comes back at night sometimes, remember?"

As though I could possibly forget. Once we had been rescued and taken aboard the Carpathia, Jack had been terribly ill due to such a prolonged exposure to the freezing waters of the Atlantic. He had been weakened by the ordeal, there was no denying it. The doctor aboard the Carpathia told me he would never be as strong as he once was, but I could not bring myself to care much about anything other than the fact that Jack was alive. We had survived and we would be together. That was all that mattered to me. It was not until months later that the doctor's warning returned to me as Jack lay in bed with a raging fever that burned throughout the long night, but was gone by morning, leaving him trembling and exhausted. Praise God, he was not taken with such fevers often, but I never stopped worrying. "I remember."

I began carding my fingers through his golden strands that had grown just a tad too long. He sighed and visibly relaxed beneath my ministrations, tension leaving his sore muscles. I began to hum our song, watching as he drifted off to sleep, and checking for signs of a fever. Aside from his headache, there seemed to be none. Perhaps he simply was tired. I kissed his slightly warm forehead, and whispered, "Goodnight, my love."

"R-Rose? Rose?"

The sound of my name roused me from sleep, and I blinked a few times, trying to shake the last remnants of slumber. "Jack? What is it, sweetheart?" I asked, but I knew what the trouble was as soon as the question passed my lips. Jack absolutely radiated heat, and in the moonlight that streamed through our window, I saw beads of sweat trailing across his brow. Heaven help me, the fever was back. "Oh Jack," I sighed, taking his clammy hand in mine and kissing his fingers.

"Rose," he whispered, fighting to speak past his chattering teeth. "M'cold, Rose. S-So c-cold."

"I know, darling, I know. You've got a fever, Jack."

He nodded, though I'm not sure he truly understood what I was saying. "I'll be right back, love," I promised, pulling on my dressing gown and going to fetch the basin of water from the washstand in the corner of our room. It was the only way to bring his fever down.

When I turned back, Jack had fallen into a restless sleep. He body still shivered ever so slightly, and his head occasionally would toss back and forth on the pillow. I bit my lower lip to keep the tears at bay. It was all too familiar. For two days aboard the Carpathia I sat beside him as he fought the fever that consumed him. For two days I wondered whether it had all been for nothing. I feared I'd lose him in spite of how far we'd come. But I didn't then, and I wouldn't now. I had to be strong for him, just as he always was for me. I set the basin on the floor, dampening a cloth and dabbing at his burning skin. At first, he flinched away from my touch, but eventually, he welcomed the relief. I lost track of how long I sat by his side, lost in the rhythm of wiping the cloth along his brow, down his neck, across his chest, and over each arm.

That is, until I looked up and saw his blue eyes staring back at me. I smiled at him, reaching out to place my hand against his cheek. He leaned into it and said so softly, I almost did not hear him, "M'sorry, Rose."

"My darling, whatever are you apologizing for?"

"Shouldn't have married me," he murmured. "Should've married Cal."

Ice as cold as the waters of the Atlantic washed over me at the mention of that wretched man. "Jack," I gasped incredulously, "surely you cannot be serious!"

"Should've married him," he continued, as though I'd not spoken a word. "Could'a had a nice house... Pretty clothes... Fancy parties... Husband who takes care of you..."

I was in shock. Was this simply the fever talking, or did he truly think such things? I felt a few tears fall onto my fingers and into my palm. I gently brushed them away with my thumb and cupped his handsome face in my hands. His fever bright gaze met mine. "Jack Dawson," I said firmly, desperate to get through to him, "I don't care for any of those things. You know me better than that. And I have a husband who cares for me, whom I love with all that I am. Don't you dare think I'd trade a minute of our life together for anything in this world. I love you, Jack Dawson. Do you hear me? I love you, and nothing will ever change that."

He nodded. I kissed his lips softly, tenderly. Pulling back I rested my forehead against his. "I love you too, Rose," he whispered.

I smiled, satisfied for the moment. "Sleep now, Jack," I said, pressing another kiss to his cheek. "All will be well when you wake."

I must have dozed off as well, for when I opened my eyes, the sun was barely peeking over the horizon. Jack was still asleep. Placing my hand against his forehead, I was relieved to find no trace of the fever that plagued him just hours before. I slipped into bed beside him, only to have him wake and wrap his arms about me. My head on his chest, his kissed my red curls and whispered, "Thank you."

"Of course," I said in return, snuggling a bit closer to him. "I'm glad you're feeling better." He hummed in agreement as a yawn overtook him. There was one more thing I had to discuss with him before he fell asleep again though. "Jack?"

"Yes, Rose?"

"Do you remember what you said last night?"

There was a pause before he answered. "Yes, I think so."

"Do you... Do you truly believe it?" I asked hesitantly.

"Sometimes," he answered truthfully, and I could hear the sadness in his voice. "Sometimes I think you would've been better off with Cal. That it was selfish of me to take you away from him. He could've given you everything, Rose. You deserve better than this run down apartment. You deserve better than..."

"Don't!" I cried suddenly, sitting up so I could better look at him. "Don't even say it, Jack Dawson! There is no better man than you. Especially not Caledon Hockley! You didn't take me from him, I came willingly. And I love this run down apartment because it's ours. You brought me to life, Jack. You taught me what it means to truly live! Yes, I may have had many nice things had I married Cal. But they'd always be just that. Things. You give me the one thing he never could."

Jack frowned in confusion. "And what is that?"

"Love."

A grin broke out over Jack's handsome face, and he pulled me back down into his warm embrace. "I do love you, Rose Dawson. I always will. You can count on that."

"And I love you, Jack Dawson."