Chapter 5 – Sunday
Rose and Jack both slept in late Sunday morning. She wasn't sure if it was due to the late night the night before or if their subconsciouses were telling them they needed the rest in advance of the coming ordeal. Either way, they didn't try to fight it, and turned to face each other, savoring the feeling of not needing to leave the bed. At least not quite yet.
"I had a wonderful day yesterday. Thank you, Jack."
It had started with the drawing – he had posed them so they sat together in an embrace, a sheet haphazardly draped across them. Rose wrapped both her arms around his shoulders, pressing her chest into his side, while he held onto her tightly with the arm he didn't need to draw with.
"It'll be a little like that Toulouse-Lautrec," Jack had said, quietly, as she moved her hand to just the right position on his back. "Do you know the one, with the two women?"
"I think so; it's the one of the couple kissing in bed, right? Only I never knew they were both women."
"That's the one. I always wanted to emulate the understated intimacy of it. I never thought I'd do that in a self portrait, but somehow it feels right for us. Is that okay with you, Rose?"
She nodded, pressing her cheek against his shoulder and kissing his collarbone gently. "Yes, I would love that."
When he showed her the final piece, she proclaimed it his best work ever. It was clear from their pose and from the way he had depicted Rose's hair, wild and mussed, what had just happened between them. Either the sheet or one of their arms obscured all their most intimate bits, with only a small piece of the swell of Rose's breast visible. But, between the casual way their arms wrapped around each other and the looks of trust and adoration on their faces, Rose thought this drawing was far more erotic than the other one.
"I'm not letting this one out of my sight," she said, tucking it in between the folds of her clothes, still abandoned on the floor.
While Jack had been drawing, they had sensed the gravitas of the moment and had refrained from their gentle teasing and flirtation. But, now that it was complete, they lingered for a bit in the same pose. He knew he was treading on dangerous territory as he snaked one of his hands up her back and kissed her deeply, his tongue darting between her lips. She responded in kind, laying back against the pillow and pulling him down on top of her. Their hands and lips began traveling, exploring now familiar territory in seek of deeper intimacy, of memorizing every inch of each others' skin. It wasn't long before they came together for the second time that afternoon, reveling in the fact that they were together and could make each other feel more alive than ever before.
Later, hand in hand, with the scarf retied over her hair and the new drawing folded into the pocket of her skirt, they stumbled into the dining room, very late for dinner. They found Fabrizio at a table near the middle, already halfway through his meal, and he gave them a knowing look as they sat down across from him.
When they were nearly done eating, the room transformed around them. Men from all over the world began pushing the dining tables aside and turning the serving tables into makeshift bars. Someone rolled out a keg, from where, Rose couldn't begin to fathom. An impromptu Irish band struck up and began to play, and then the dancing started. Just as before, Rose had stayed by Jack's side all night, draining glass after glass of dark beer, and letting him hold her closely as they danced until they were breathless.
As they finally returned to the stateroom, their faces flushed not only from the dancing, ready to fall into Jack's bed, it became clear that Gustav and his friend had finally returned. The two men were each in their own bunks and not paying much attention to the pair, but Jack and Rose froze in their tracks regardless.
The noise of the door swinging shut behind them seemed to startle one of them – the one in the top bunk whose name they never learned – enough for him to look up. He caught sight of his roommate with a strange woman and said something incomprehensible in Swedish. Rose wasn't even able to make out the tone of his voice.
"Uh, hi there," said Jack, looking suddenly nervous. "This is R—"
"Hi, I'm Ethel," she cut him off, and stuck out her hand in greeting. "Uh, Ethel Clinton."
Neither of the Swedish men took her hand. Instead, they started talking to each other in clipped Swedish, the volume steadily increasing. Neither Rose nor Jack could tell if they were talking to them, or worse, about them.
Eventually, as Gustav and the man in the top bunk continued speaking, Rose took Jack's hand and slowly led him to the bunk they were sharing. Silently, trying to draw as little attention as possible, they slid in beneath the sheets. He kissed her, softly, but lingered for a few minutes, the faint taste of beer still on her breath.
"Ethel Clinton?" he whispered.
"It was the first thing I could think of," she said, as quietly as possible. "The president from 1996. Bill, that is. Even 84 years from now we're still a long way from electing someone named Ethel,"
"I'm sorry, Rose. Both for the president thing and the fact that I almost gave you away just now."
"I don't think any harm was done. But still, let's get some sleep." Now that she was lying down, she felt just how worn out her body was from today. From the dancing, from the lovemaking. But tomorrow would be an even bigger test. "We'll need to be a little sharper tomorrow."
"Ah, tomorrow," he said, gravely. "I thought I would be worried about it all day, but I managed to almost forget."
"I know," she said, brushing her lips lightly against his. "Me too."
"I love you, Rose. Whatever happens."
She wasn't sure if she said her reply out loud or in her dreams, though, as she drifted off within seconds.
Now, time had cruelly marched on. The precious hours they had to be back together before imminent disaster had nearly slipped away. Sunday morning had come. They had been lying together, fully awake and barely speaking for quite a while now. Jack gently stroked her cheek with this thumb, a solemn expression on his face. They were both afraid that if they moved too much, too suddenly, the peace of this moment would shatter and they would need to face the day and night ahead.
"Jack!" The quiet of the room was suddenly broken by Fabrizio's voice. "Jack! Rose! Are you in here?"
Sighing deeply, he sat up and swing his legs off the bed. Feeling the lack of his presence beside her, even for the fraction of a second he had been away, Rose followed suit just after.
"Yes, we're in here," he said to his friend. It looked like Fabrizio had already left and came back this morning. Gustav and his friend were also gone – Jack had a fleeting memory of having seen them the night before, but it passed before he could remember if he had any idea what they were saying.
"Che due palle! Were you two still sleeping? I was looking for you both to bring you with me to lunch! Today they are serving roast beef."
His excitement on what was to be such a somber day made Rose feel like she and Jack were in some sort of absurd zoo, where they were the ones in the glass cage, watching the festivities go on around them. But something in Fabrizio's voice had cracked that cage, and now they found themselves exposed, having to live among the high-spiritedness around them for as long as it lasted.
"We'll meet you there in a few minutes," said Jack, with a half smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Save us some gravy."
At lunch, Rose pushed food around her plate, looking around the third class dining room. The large hall was loud, full of conversations in every language which all melded together into a spirited hum. She heard small snippets of conversation about how much fun the party the night before had been, discussions about whether the food and accommodations were as good as advertised, and a wager over when they would arrive. She silently wondered how many people around her were eating their second to last meal right now.
Don't think like that. You have a plan, remember?
"Fabrizio, did you hear there is to be a meteor shower tonight?" Both he and Jack looked up abruptly, but she continued. "I, uh, I heard a few people talking about it last night." Yeah, some plan.
"Rose and I were thinking of going up to the deck to try to see it," Jack added, seamlessly. "You should come."
"Oh please do! And spread the word if you see anyone else. I heard it was meant to be spectacular."
"It sounds nice," he said, somewhat noncommittally. "Tell me when you are going."
Rose grabbed Jack's hand under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze. I hope that worked. Fabrizio then stood up from the table and picked up his now empty plate. "Ciao, I will see you two in a little while."
"We'll get him to come with us," Rose said, but stopped herself just short of adding I promise.
Still holding her hand tightly, Jack nodded back at her, willing her words to be true. "We should probably start telling other people," he said, quickly snapping out of his gloom. "The meteor shower idea won't work if we don't tell anyone other than Fabrizio."
They had discussed, at some length, the previous day if spreading the word of the meteor shower would be enough. They had even questioned whether they should come straight out with it and warn people directly about the iceberg, or perhaps even try to gather up anything buoyant they could find and leave it on the deck. But, after going around in circles, trying to bring each possibility to its most likely conclusion, they realized once again just how powerless they were to make any big changes.
Despite the obituary that had run the previous day, they knew they had to avoid unnecessary attention on themselves. Spreading a fantastical story about the unsinkable ship sinking, with no proof of how they came by this information, would do nothing but draw the wrong sort of attention to them. And, even if they did start warning people directly, how many people would even believe them? No, the meteor shower idea was perhaps a feeble one, but after a long, serious talk, they realized it was all they could do with their limited means.
"Why don't we split up so we can tell twice as many people," Jack continued. "We'll start in the hallways, try to strike up casual conversation with some people and see if you can work in that we heard talk about the amazing meteor shower."
"I don't like the idea of being too far apart from you, especially today," she said, clinging to his hand in hers. "But that is a good idea."
"I won't be too far away." He pulled her closer and kissed her forehead. "Let's meet back at the stateroom in ninety minutes?"
–
Rose made her way back to the now-familiar room where she had stayed the last two days, feeling like an utter failure. She could only hope Jack, with his charisma and ability to make easy conversation, had fared better. She had spoken to as many people as she could, but she wasn't sure that any of them would actually go out of their way to make it to the deck tonight. The young children from one family had been excited at the prospect, but the tired-looking mother was skeptical. Two kind older women she spoke to were interested in what she had to say, but brushed her off with, "oh, that sounds lovely, dear. Maybe if these bones were ten years younger I'd be up to climbing all those stairs so late at night."
After getting each of these responses, she was tempted to shout. Deeply tempted to take the listeners by the shoulder and tell them it was a goddamn iceberg, not a meteor shower, and she was trying to save their life, damn it! Self-preservation won out, though, so she settled for a friendly, "all right, but please do spread the word." Thoughts of something, anything else they could do to draw people up to safety raced through her mind, but she still couldn't come up with anything better than Jack's idea to try to find a key that unlocked the gates. They would have to try that next. Please, let it be more fruitful. At least that they could do together. It had only been an hour and a half, but the lack of his presence beside her was palpable, like a phantom limb.
She heard the clock chime for 2:30, the time she was meant to meet Jack back at the stateroom. Titanic has twelve hours left. The thought made her shiver and she picked up her pace, trying to get back to Jack as quickly as she could. But before she made it back to the room, she ran into him – nearly literally – in the hallway a few doors down from his. "Rose. Thank God! I—uh. I—"
"What is it, Jack?"
"I came down here to make sure you got back okay, but— well— I wasn't thinking straight, and now we have a situation to deal with. I've gotta go back and fix it. I'll be back as soon as I can."
"Don't be stupid, Jack. If we have a problem to fix, I'm coming too."
"No!" his voice was sharper than she had ever heard it.
"No? Are you in the business of telling me what I can and can't do now?"
"It's—it's not like that." His voice was shaky, and she now recognized the genuine terror that had been behind the edge in his tone earlier. "It's—look, I'm only trying to keep you safe."
One hour earlier
Jack thought he had managed all right so far in telling people about the meteor shower. The first group he spoke to had seemed excited, and at least three or four other people had been noncommittal, but had at least said they would mention it to others that afternoon. After exhausting hallways in the single men's quarters, and not seeing any sign of Rose, who had likely gone down to talk to family groups, he re-entered the dining room. After lunch, someone had moved tables and chairs, turning it into a makeshift pub, and Jack could see card games starting up here and there. He slid out a chair at one of the more populated tables, casually asking to join them.
"Vuoi giocare a carte? La scommessa è di cento lire," said one of the men at the table.
Jack, unprepared for the change in language, did the quickest of double takes before registering what had been said. He had heard syllables, not full words, but it sounded somehow familiar. Vuoi giocare. Lire.
Of course. "I'll – uh, I'll be right back. Er, Tornerò uh—tra poco, signori."
If he was going to try to save this tableful of men, he was going to need help from someone who could actually communicate with them. Fabrizio had taught him a few words of Italian, but he was far from conversant. He wasn't even sure if what few words he knew would be understandable, given how much Fabrizio regularly ridiculed his pronunciation.
It only took a few minutes to find the man himself, who was in the hallway on his way back to the stateroom.
"Ah, Jack, I was looking for you."
"That's quite the coincidence, my friend. I was looking for you, too."
"It's about your girl. Rose."
That stopped him in his tracks. All thoughts of a poker game, of enticing people up to the top deck with the promise of a meteor shower forgotten. "What about her?" The question came out more defensively than he had intended, but his hackles were raised.
"It is only," Fabrizio began, his tone much more casual than Jack was prepared for it to be. "It is only that she sounded so excited about the – uh – the meteore. But she does not have a coat, no? I am worried she will get cold sitting out all night."
"Fabri, is this just about the meteors or is there something else you're worried about?" He had rarely known his friend to be anything other than happy-go-lucky. Even during sinking, Fabrizio had been more the more positive of the pair. This newfound concern made alarm bells go off in Jack's head. Does he know more than he's letting on?
"Is there something else I should be worried about?" Fabrizio laughed. "I am very happy for the two of you. I only got to know Rose a little bit, but it is obvious that she is meant for you, no? I only meant to ask if you wanted to borrow my coat so she can use yours and you can both see the meteore. I don't mind so much missing it. I for one woke up at a normal time this morning, and will need the sleep."
Jack wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved that Fabrizio genuinely didn't seem to remember what was to occur tonight, but he didn't have time to fully consider it. He needed to make sure his friend would come up to the top decks with them tonight.
"Rose would love to have you there, Fabrizio. We both would." A sudden memory flashed. A. Ryerson. This was reported stolen earlier today. "You should wear your own coat. I think I know where we might be able to find an extra one."
"All right, Jack." He said it more seriously this time, almost as if he did understand that there was something bigger going on. But then his jovial mood returned. "How do you know where an extra coat is?"
"By the shuffleboard courts," Jack said, pretending he had misunderstood the question. "Let's go."
As they made their way up to the shuffleboard courts, Jack remembered the bright sunshine from this day before – the same sunshine, with just the slightest breath of chill in the air, that likely prompted the coat's original owner to set it aside for the afternoon.
He thought back to that day, that felt at once so close and so distant. He thought of pulling Rose into the gym, of leaving disappointed, and of how quickly that disappointment vanished as they stood together on the bow. Over the last two days, as he and Rose had fallen back together so easily, so naturally, it was hard to remember they really had only spent a few days together. Even though she had been the only one to actually age, he felt older than the boy he had been that day, like a lifetime had passed. Maybe she wasn't the only one waiting for 84 years.
"Are you sure that coat is here?" Fabrizio's voice shook him out of his thoughts.
Jack was sure he remembered where he had found the coat, but, then again, his mind had been muddled that afternoon. Could it have been on another part of the deck?
"No, Fabrizio, I'm not sure. Just a hunch, I suppose."
"And when has one of your 'just a hunches' ever been wrong?" Fabrizio asked with a grin, but even as he said it, he was moving away from the shuffleboard courts to see if it had been left elsewhere. Jack followed suit, trying to force himself to remember exactly where he had picked up the fateful coat.
"It may not be here," Jack finally admitted after they had looked around most of the section. "We should get back. I told Rose I'd meet her back at the room at 2:30."
Fabrizio nodded in agreement. Even though they still had half an hour until the agreed-upon time, they had walked far enough across the deck that it may take time to get all the way back. But just as they started to turn around, Fabrizio happened upon a door leading to a staircase. "This route will get us back, no?"
Now realizing where they were, Jack's mind started racing. They were standing right in front of the first class staircase where he had bid Rose goodnight after dancing together for the first time. A lifetime ago. Yesterday. It was the door they had taken together, back to her stateroom after their first kiss, the next day – today – him in disbelief at the turn of events, her with a mischievous glimmer in her eye that he had yet to notice.
"Uh, yeah. It'll get us back down eventually. By way of the first class corridors."
Fabrizio's eyes lit up, but only for a moment, like a cat that finally caught the canary. He hasn't seen the first class corridor before. Suddenly eager to show his friend around, Jack led them through the door that held so many memories, into the hallway that held far more.
But as they walked down the corridor, he wasn't thinking of Rose. He saw Fabrizio, a few paces ahead of him, and was instead reminded of all the hijinks they had gotten up to. The conviviality of sneaking into all the sights Paris had to offer, of making up stories to justify their presence at fancy hotels and restaurants. He thought of his friend Leroy from Chippewa Falls, and how much trouble the two had gotten into around town. Suddenly, he was craving adventure.
"Jack," said Fabrizio, cautiously. "Rose did not get on the ship with us. She started here, no?"
"Yes," he replied, equally cautiously. He thought he knew where this was going, as he had been thinking along the same lines ever since he recognized the door to the first class staircase, but he wasn't going to be the one to say it out loud.
"So why did we take all that time looking for a coat out on deck when she probably has one here?"
"I – I was sort of thinking the same thing," Jack admitted.
"Maybe she would also want some of her own belongings? Or something of her own to wear, instead of those same trousers of yours for two more days?"
He didn't think she minded the trousers so much, and was about to tell Fabrizio that.But then, one very specific piece of clothing flashed before Jack's eyes. If they were going anyway to get the coat, how hard could it be to also take the kimono that had hung from her shoulders so tantalizingly, its thin fabric not covering much?
But no. This expedition was purely practical. He fully intended to bring all three of them up to the deck that night, and they would need three coats to do it. If the coat did its job and kept her warm all night, there would be plenty of time for him to get her a negligee. Hell, she'd probably want to go pick one out herself.
And so, without their ever really deciding, the matter had been decided. Jack let his feet guide the pair back to the room he had been to twice before. Both times he had stood in front of this door, his heart had been pounding, nerves coursing through his body. This third time was no different, even though the circumstances were.
If Fabrizio questioned how he knew which room was the right one, he didn't say anything. He just waited, expectantly, as Jack reached out for the door handle.
"Is – do you think anyone will be in there?"
"Oh, shit!" said Jack, pulling his hand away from the doorknob, as if it had burned him. He had been thinking so much about the first time Rose had brought him here that he hadn't even entertained the possibility that someone else might be in the room.
His thoughts were racing. He thought again of pulling Rose into the gym on this same day so long ago. She had been on a tour of the ship, and Cal had definitely been there. What time was that? He remembered being turned away from the church service before returning below decks to lick his wounds and plan another way to find Rose. He remembered the sun shining in through the gym window, lower than it would have been at midday. It must have been after lunch.
So Cal would be on the tour. He was pretty sure he remembered Lovejoy had been following behind them. Was Rose's mother there? He closed his eyes and brought two fingers up to his temple, trying to force himself to think harder. Half of his brain could picture Ruth following along, chaperoning her daughter. Half of his brain could not reconcile the image of her outside, strolling along the deck, and was sure she had not been part of the tour group that day. Think, think.
But before he could decide for sure which half of his brain was right, before he could say with any certainty who all had been on the tour that day, he heard a lock click and saw the knob begin to turn from the inside.
"Shit!" He jumped even further back, before nearly shoving Fabrizio down the corridor and pressing his back flat against the wall. He ventured a tiny glance back towards the front door to see it swing wide open, though he couldn't get a good enough look to see who was exiting.
"I'll signal for you when I'm ready to leave, Trudy," came the stoic voice of Ruth Dewitt Bukater. "I'm afraid I'm not up for much small talk, yet."
"Very well, ma'am," came the next voice, and he heard the footsteps of both women coming straight towards him. Rose's mother caught his eye momentarily as she passed, and while there was a recognizable glimmer of confusion at his presence in the first class hallway, it was very superficial. It was the look she would have given any steerage boy. Of course. This time around, neither Ruth nor Cal had ever met him. They had no idea who he was. Suddenly energized by his newfound anonymity, he looked back to see the door they had just exited swinging shut.
Acting quickly, without so much as a thought, he raced back down the hallway and caught the door, just before it swung fully shut and locked.
Fabrizio had now caught up with him, peering into the opulent room from his place standing behind Jack in the door frame. Jack glanced around the room to see that it was as empty as it had been when Rose had led him here for the first time. The lights were all off, and the couch was where it had been before he moved it, but everything else was just as he remembered it.
"We'll need to be quick," he said, and Fabrizio nodded once, before stepping into the room.
"Why didn't you win us these tickets, Jack?" He asked, taking in the surroundings. "I'll need to find a friend who chooses better poker tables."
Jack punched him on the shoulder, good-naturedly. "I think that one is Rose's room," he said, pointing to the door he remembered her disappearing through and then re-entering from, wearing only the kimono.
Rose had told him about tearing up the room in the moments before she ran to the stern. But, as they entered, it looked like someone had cleaned it up. The four poster bed was made up to hospital standards, all the makeup and jewelry on the vanity was neatly in order. Not a thing was out of place.
"It'll be a pink coat with black trim," he said, to the room more than directly to Fabrizio. He was suddenly overcome by a desire to rifle through the rest of the belongings. The ones Rose had left behind without a spare thought, just to be with him. His hand hovered over the handle of one of the drawers on her bedside table, before he looked up to see a large wardrobe, and he tore himself away from the drawer handle.
He had just opened the wardrobe door, when he heard a voice behind him.
"Is this the one?" Fabrizio was holding the familiar pink coat, designed more for appearance than for function. "It was on top of one of those trunks over there."
"Yes, that's it! Give me just a few minutes to make sure there's nothing else in here she needs, and then we'll be on our way."
"Okay, Jack—"
"What's all this?" a new voice, deep and stern sounded from the main room. Jack would recognize that voice anywhere. Caledon Hockley.
Instinctively, he stepped into the wardrobe, and motioned frantically for Fabrizio to join him. Fabrizio, though, had turned his attention to the noise in the other room and didn't see Jack's beckoning at all.
"What in God's name is going on?"
Cal himself had now walked into the bedroom. Too late to stop him from seeing Fabrizio, Jack pulled the door to the wardrobe closed, powerless to do anything other than listen to the coming confrontation.
"What are you doing with that coat?" he asked. "I'll have you arrested if you don't answer me right now."
Jack crouched in the wardrobe, wondering what Fabrizio would say. Rose had said he was a good actor the other night. But would that be enough? Shame washed over him. Shame at getting them both mixed up in this, shame at what Rose would think when she found out. And then a worse though crossed him mind. Would Rose even find out about this at all? Would they both be handcuffed to a sinking ship, without any way for Rose to know what had happened to them?
"I – uh. I – Sir, I was only—" Fabrizio was floundering. "I was only looking for a coat for a woman who doesn't have one. I walked by and saw your door open and thought I would check."
Jack could picture the shit-eating grin on Fabrizio's face as he said that. He was skeptical that Cal would react in a positive way to what he said or the way he said it, but, then again, he and Fabrizio had both talked their way out of all kinds of trouble all across Europe.
"You fool!" he shouted. "What were you even doing in this part of the ship? I was told the vermin would be kept separate."
There were a few beats of silence and then. "Lovejoy. Summon the Master at Arms. I need to have a word with him about the security on board this ship."
Jack waited, petrified, and counted his options. If he burst out from the wardrobe now, it would only get them both arrested. Rose's dresses hung around him, and he slowly moved his fingers across the hems of the varying fabrics, until he landed on a familiar pink and purple chiffon dress. The one he had taken off of her in the backseat that night. He breathed in her scent from the fabric, willing it to give him strength to make a decision on what to do. But before he could get too far down that path, he heard a new set of footprints enter the room. The Master at Arms must have arrived.
"What can we do for you, Mr. Hockley?"
"I caught this man in the act of stealing a coat from me," he almost spat. "I gather you intend to keep the first class part of the ship safe from the – from the disease-ridden masses, do you not?"
"Let me see the coat, son." Fabrizio didn't speak, but he must have handed the coat over to the Master at Arms. "Is this hers? Did it belong to Miss Dewitt Bukater?"
"It did." Cal's voice was suddenly more subdued.
"All right, son," said the Master at Arms, his voice now much more severe. "I'm going to need you to come with me."
As Jack heard the familiar shuffling that could only be the Master at Arms grabbing Fabrizio and putting on the handcuffs, the clock struck 2:30. Shit, shit, shit. Now on top of everything I'll be late to meet Rose.
Moments later, he heard three sets of footsteps retreating out of the room and, hiding as much as he could behind Rose's dresses, he ventured a peek through the crack in the wardrobe door. The bedroom was now empty, so he slinked out of the wardrobe, making his way on tip-toe over to the door to see if the main room had emptied as well. Furtively, he glanced around, and, just in time, noticed the three men exiting into the hallway.
He forced himself to wait – one beat, two beats, three, steadying his breath – before following them out the door.
Out of the doorframe, he glanced both directions, not seeing any evidence of the unlikely trio. He slipped out of the stateroom, gently pulling the front door closed behind him. Instead of trying to remember which direction would lead him back down to third class, he picked a direction at random, willing his feet to remember the way. As he turned a corner, he saw Fabrizio out of the corner of his eye, his hands behind his back, flanked on either side by Cal and the Master at Arms.
Jack slipped past them, trying to look as casual as possible, like he was just a disinterested passerby. But, as he walked past the group, he couldn't resist turning around for just a second to catch Fabrizio's eye, to reassure him that he would be coming back to get him out of this mess.
He turned around, his eyes hunting for Fabrizio's. But, instead, he locked eyes with the man standing next to him. As his eyes locked with Cal's. He saw a glimmer of what could only be recognition.