"I'm leaving," Jack said to Fabrizio. It had been just over a week since Rose had seemingly vanished and Jack had grown to hate Rome in that time.

Fabrizio nodded knowingly. "When? Where?" he asked.

Jack took a swig of his beer and set the glass back on the bar. "In the morning sometime." He pulled a package from his coat pocket. He sprinkled the tobacco into the paper, rolled it, sealed it shut and finally placed it between his lips and lit it. "As for where, I don't know. Maybe I'll figure out a way to get home."

"Wis.." Fabrizio paused for a moment before finding the word. "Wisconsin?"

Jack shrugged. "Torna stati, at least," he responded in broken Italian, telling Fabrizio he was only concerned with getting to America for now. He took emptied his beer glass and was silent for another moment. "Do you want to come with?" Jack asked out of nowhere.

"Che cosa?"

"Vuoi venire con?" Jack repeated, this time in Italian. Fabrizio had become one of Jack's best friends since they met in a tiny village outside of Rome. Like Jack, Fabirzio had no close family. His parents had died just six months apart when he was five. Fabrizio was the youngest of four siblings, one sister and two brothers. All had gone their separate ways as they aged. He was the only one who still hadn't left.

"Si," he told Jack with no hesitation. Jack ordered two more beers and they toasted to a new horizon. But even as Jack drank, his empty heart still throbbed in pain.

Late the next morning and still fighting hangovers the two of them left Rome, neither knowing where they would end up.

…

Rose woke up slowly, fighting to stay in her dream. Jack's arms were around her and he was whispering a thousand I love yous in her ear. He forgave her for just disappearing without a word. She told him she wanted to be with him and he told her nothing could make him happier.

The dream faded away and Rose's eyes fluttered open. It had been ten days since she'd left Rome. Every morning, just before she woke up the dream came to her. Even though it was only a dream, Rose's altered state of consciousness was the best part of her day. When her eyes opened, the day progressively got worse.

Rose thought she had known loneliness. It had been a part of her for as long as she could remember. Everyone she knew was happy in this world. Men were happy showing off their beautiful wives. They flaunted their cash in the form of tailor made tuxedos, silver cigarette cases and gold pinky rings. The women had perfected falsetto laughs. They smiled at their husbands as they gazed at them, the loving gaze meant for the money and prestige that being married to them provided.

Her falsetto laugh was perfected. Her smiles to Cal were forced, but not obviously so. When she gazed at Cal it was more of a blank stare with a plastic smile. But with Jack…with Jack it was different. Her laugh was real, genuine. So real in fact that once she had been laughing so hard she snorted. The smile on her face warmed her own heart. And when she gazed at Jack, she gazed at him with love and wanting.

Rose rolled over and pulled the blankets up to her chin. Cal was already gone, probably since sunrise. Rose didn't deny that she was happy about that, or that he often didn't return home until after she was asleep. He never disturbed her when he came to bed. He neither woke her for sex nor snuggled close to her. She found herself wondering if he was working or perhaps involved with another woman. Either way, Rose didn't care. All she could focus on was the fact that she would probably never see Jack again.

The clock read eight AM and Rose knew she should get out of bed, but she felt so tired. She hadn't slept decently since they'd left Rome. Her head hurt all day, just a twinge behind her eyes, but enough to make her uncomfortable. There was a knot deep in her abdomen that forced her to swallow back nausea throughout the day.

Rose's head began to throb as her mind sorted its way through various what ifs. What if he never kissed me? What if I had that dream earlier? What if I told him I loved him before Cal came back? What if he told me he loved me? What if Cal hadn't come back? Rose hated the way these thoughts haunted her and was grateful when Trudy knocked on the door to wake her.

"Good morning Miss Rose," Trudy greeted warmly.

"Good morning," Rose replied softly, not bothering to turn over to face her.

Trudy automatically walked to Rose's wardrobe to retrieve the dress she had purchased yesterday. "Do you with to wear this new dress to the Astor's for tea this afternoon?"

Rose held in a groan. She had forgotten about that stupid tea J.J. and Madeline had invited her and Ruth to. She didn't want to go. She'd been keeping up such an act for what seemed like an eternity that she felt close to breaking. Rose was confident today would cause her to crack.

"Actually Trudy, I won't be going," Rose said. "I'm not feeling well." It's certainly not a lie. "If my mother decides she has a problem with that, tell her to speak to me directly," she added in a kind voice. Ruth was quick to snap at Trudy for things that were beyond her control.

"Yes, of course," Trudy replied hanging the dress back up. "Shall I bring you anything?"

"Not right now, thank you," Rose said politely. She closed her eyes against the morning light and listened for her mother's encroaching footsteps. Less than three minutes later, Ruth knocked on the door.

"Trudy tells me you're not feeling well?" Ruth asked, not bothering to wait for Rose to invite her in.

"No, I'm not," Rose replied. "I've had a rather nasty headache since last night and I didn't sleep well." She closed her eyes and mentally willed her mother out of her room. "Please send my apologies to J.J. and Madeline," she said, hoping that would end the subject.

Fortunately it did. Ruth left with no further comment and Rose buried her face in her pillow and felt the first tears break free.

...

Jack tossed his charcoal pencil down and let out a frustrated sigh. He looked at the drawing in front of him and fought back the urge to crumple it up and toss it over his shoulder. To an untrained eye, the sketch would have seemed beautiful, without a flaw in sight. But to Jack it was all wrong. There was no life in it. The Parisian woman lay out in front of him naked, her black hair fanned out with one arm extended above her head and the other laying across her belly, just below her breasts. Her eyes were as seductive as the smile on her lips. Jack couldn't capture life in any of this as he moved his hand across the paper.

"What's the matter, Jack dear?" Evonne asked in a thick French accent. She sat up and retrieved her robe from the bed post. "You have been back for three days and you are not yourself."

"I know," Jack said blandly.

"Your heart has been broken," Evonne noted. Jack gave her a questioning look. "I can see it in your eyes."

"It's that obvious?" Jack questioned more to himself than Evonne.

"Oui," she answered. Evonne grabbed her crutches that leaned against the wall and went over to where Jack was sitting on the couch. "Tell me about her."

Jack chuckled and stood to pour them each a glass of wine. "I doubt you want to hear about it." He sat back on the couch, handing her a glass.

"I would not have asked then." She took a sip of her wine and picked up Jack's drawing. "Your drawings, they reflect your broken heart as well. They lack something. Your heart is not in it."

"My heart's with Rose," Jack confessed. Evonne remained silent. "I met her in Rome. She's…she's married," he continued, waiting for Evonne to say something.

"I am not one to judge Jack," she said as if she knew what he was thinking. "I have no position to."

Jack nodded. "We met in a park. Well, she ran me down in the park," he corrected with a half-smile. "She bit my head off, I apologized and we spent the next few hours discussing art." Jack ignored the pain in his heart as he spoke of Rose. "Three days later we got caught in a rainstorm and took cover in my apartment. She was drenched and laughing so hard that she snorted. I don't know what came over me but I kissed her."

"Did you know then that she is married?"

"Yes, though I knew it wasn't happily. She barely spoke of her husband and she did, it wasn't exactly with love and happiness."

"What happened when you kissed her?"

"She slapped me."

Evonne tried not to laugh, but a quiet giggle snuck out. "I was not expecting to hear that Jack. Désolé, très désolé," she apologized.

Jack chuckled too. "It's alright. I wasn't really expecting the slap either. Especially after the way she kissed me back," Jack recalled. "She stormed out, but just after ten that night, she showed up at my door." The pain in his heart grew worse as he remembered the way she had pulled him into a kiss. "For the next five weeks or so, Rose came to me every night. She'd stay for five or six hours, but she always went home before dawn."

Jack paused then. He looked at the red liquid in his wine glass. It was expensive wine, he could tell by the way it ran down the side of the glass when he swirled it gently. Ignoring the fact that wine should be sipped, not gulped, he downed the remainder of it in one quick motion. "One night, she just didn't show up," Jack said. "I grew worried, thinking something had happened to her. I went to find her. That's when I found that she was gone."

"Gone?" Evonne asked in confusion.

"She was only there on holiday. Her husband was in London on business while she and her mother stayed in Rome," Jack clarified. "I don't know where she is now, but I do know that she didn't leave by choice."

"Oh? You are sure of this?" Evonne asked gently.

"I am," Jack said confidently. "Rose loves me; I was able to see it in her eyes as clearly as I could hear it in her laugh. She never told me, but she never had to." He shook his head. "It was foolish to ever get involved with her," he muttered. "I just didn't think it would end like this. I hoped it wouldn't end at all."

"You had hoped she would leave her husband," Evonne stated. "Did she say anything to make you think she would?"

"No. The night she left, I was going to ask her to leave him though. I was going to ask her to be with me," he confessed. He rubbed his face with his palm, wiping away the tears that threatened to spill over his eyelids. "After a week, I couldn't take it anymore. I had to leave Rome."

"Where are you going now?" she asked. "I know you well Jack, and I know you will not be in Paris for long."

"I'm planning to go back to the States. Fabri's wanted to go to America since he's been on his own. No time like the present," Jack told her. "If we're lucky, maybe we'll get passage abroad Titanic," he said, half joking. The newest ship of the White Star Line was to begin her maiden voyage on April tenth, just over a week away. The papers had called it the 'grandest ship in the world' and 'the ship of dreams.' It was the largest passenger steamship in the world, the sister ship to the RMS Olympic which Jack had traveled on when he came to Europe. Jack got up and went to the window. The stars twinkled above the city, but not nearly as bright as they did at sea. Jack remembered lying on a bench aboard the Olympic, smoking a cigarette and staring at the vast and endless universe. He wondered if he could lose himself in it again.

April 10th, 1912

Rose stared up at the grand ship. She was completely unimpressed and equally as thrilled. Her heart cried out for Jack, now more than ever. She didn't care about boarding the so-called ship of dreams and didn't bother hiding it.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she said, turning to Cal. "It doesn't look any bigger than the Mauretania." Cal began to reply, but Rose turned away completely disinterested.

…

The four men sat at the table in the pub right next to the docks. Titanic loomed before them. On the table laid loose change and notes, all the currency different. Olaf had dropped his pocket knife in the middle. Jack had thrown his father's pocket watch in when raising the bet. Sven responded with a raise of his own. Two third class tickets for passage on Titanic lay in the middle of the pile.

"Jack, you bet everything we have." Fabri moaned. He had bet all their money, which maybe added up to ten bucks and his father's pocket watch, one of the few things he'd taken when he left Wisconsin. But to him they were just objects, nothing at all really.

Jack blew out the smoke from his cigarette. "When you got nothing, you got nothing to lose."

Two minutes later, Jack and Fabrizio were rushing to get aboard Titanic, making it just in time.