There was hardly a drizzle left outside the building as Rose's gaze fell to the wide window of the room. Propriety was the last thing on her mind when she led the man at her side upstairs to a sitting area they were certain would be free from any ears of passing traffic from the members who tried their luck with the downpour.

Mark had raised a brow and Rose caught it, choosing to ignore any response. He would ask questions eventually. As would Margaret, and Joan, and William, among others who were sure to hear of it by the end of the next day, if not sooner…they knew her, to the extent she allowed anyone to know her. And the young man with her was a new face, one that drew a characteristic out of Rose they had never glimpsed.

She had introduced them, briefly…but easily pushed aside any further chatter until another time.

It had been only a half an hour, if that, wrapping how little Rose realized she knew about the man and his past. As far as their relationship, how much do you open up to someone who sees you as still a stranger? How do you explain the intimacies without causing him to think you were only a fling? She very briefly flirted with the idea it might have just been that…wondering what would have come of them if they had walked off that ship together. But her heart knew it was only fearful contemplations.

So she tried to explain: her engagement, her unhappiness, how he had saved her time and time again from the moment he stepped forward on that first night, until the very last. Jack simply listened, with a comment here and there. Moments like the spitting where he found it very hard to believe he could ever get a woman like Rose to spit. She vowed to prove him wrong, another time when they were outside, of course. He dared her otherwise.

She had yet another moment of calling him by the name she kept as a treasure, before catching herself back into the reality of their situation. "You've always been 'Jack' to me, but if you'd rather I…"

He leaned forward, closing some of the distance between where they sat, taking her hands into his own. "Rose, I've been waiting for this, for you, for three years now. Never getting any closer, never expecting to get anywhere to tell you the truth. I kept the name John Calvert because I didn't want to have any expectations, no disappointments with a name I couldn't even remember let alone live up to. And I guess it turns out I have some living up to do."

He smiled, but Rose's doubts still remained as he continued. "I wanted to make this a new life for myself 'cause I didn't have anything to look back to. Kinda miserable actually, living and always wondering what you left behind. The worst part is the not knowing. At least I've got something now."

Rose wondered whether he meant the details she had explained, but the way he watched her…

"I didn't know…I mean, this has just been a lot." Rose couldn't turn away from his eyes as they studied her intently. Under any other person, she would have been uneasy. "The last thing I ever expected was to find you, everything I knew…you were dead. Shock, confusion, fear. I think it was worse because I had moved on, in most ways at least. When you knew…what was going to happen, you made me promise to do that, and I've never taken anything so seriously."

"There's too many serious people in the world, Rose. I'd rather see your smile any day." She couldn't help but smile in response to his. Inwardly, she scolded herself for feeling like some little school girl, yet at the same time, she relished in the butterflies. But there were still other things to consider.

"So, where does this leave us?" It had gone from fanciful emotions to the heart of reality within that one sentence. It was answered with a squeeze of the hand.

"Well, for one…" Jack stood up, assisting Rose with ease. He never released her hand as they stood in the otherwise empty room. "It's getting late. Maybe I could walk you home?"

Rose glanced at the window again that still held a mild drizzle. In truth, she was almost afraid to leave, now that she was here, with him…she was afraid if she woke up tomorrow, it would all have been a dream. A marvelous, far too short dream.

"I still have that umbrella if we need it." She turned back to him as he picked up the object and moved her hand under his arm in a gentlemanly manner. "Are you ready, my lady?"

There was a giggle, "Certainly, good sir."

"Jack," he responded quietly as they moved to the doorway. He smiled as he felt a serenity not often allowed. "Just Jack."