"You are sick, Rose." Julie confronted her friend. The two were sitting in the kitchen of the atelier. They both had arrived at six in the morning to catch up with all the work they had left to finish. Rose shook her head and took a sip of her water.

"I am not."

"How many hours have you been working lately? Over 50 hours a week? You need to stop working the extra hours, it's not as if you're earning that much more."

Julie was true about that. It wasn't anything like at Mrs. Dawson's anymore. And if Mrs. Woodbridge found out she was hiding the extra money, she'd hang.

Her cough had worsened, and her nights were short and restless. Only a few more weeks until Oliver would help her with the finances. He too was aware of that and it made him grumpy and sneery towards his sister.

"Only a few more weeks." She now said to Julie. She looked Rose straight in the eye, but remained quiet. She couldn't help her friend, no one here could. All the girls who worked here only did it to save themselves from living in the gutter. They had to use their craft to their advantage, to simply survive.

Rose walked home that afternoon and wandered through the park for a couple of hours. A group of children ran by, chasing a squirrel. The soft autumn sun glowed onto her face and she sat down for a while, allowing the warmth to sink into her skin. She could stay here in this exact moment forever. Freeze the time and not think about anything lying ahead of her. Her mother popped up into her head again. The only thing she could enjoy before her death was the smell of fresh air and the light of the sun.

Back in Pittsburgh, Jack looked up at the same sky and blew the smoke of his cigarette into the air. He was lying on a bench outside of the hotel, his head leaning on the soft leather of his sketchbook. The days were dreadfully long, meeting after meeting and endless dinners. Whenever he had a moment of free time, Amelia and her mother would stick to him as if he was covered in glue. At nights when Ernest had not returned to their room, Jack would find him at the bar, completely wasted. Jack sat back up and looked at his watch. His hour of freedom was over and he had to get back to work. He grabbed his belongings, headed back inside only to find his brother again drunk, hanging over a table. The table was entirely cover in paperwork and Jack cussed to himself, meeting his brother.

"What the fuck is all this?" He picked up a few files. Some pieces of paper were soaked because of the alcohol and sticked to his hands. Ernest looked up at him, his eyes were burning red. He mumbled a few words and put his head back down on the table. Jack turned towards a waiter who simply shrug his shoulders when asked who long Ernest had been here. He pulled his brother by the neck and faced him.

"What is going on, Ernest? Answer me!"

"I maybe lost a little bit of money. But they did this to me, Jack. They fed me drunk!"

"Who did? What money?"

"A bastard named Lovejoy who works for Hockley. They took our money to invest in this." He shove another piece of paper under Jack's nose. It was about a company who was on the verge of bankruptcy. Hockley had mentioned them a few times. About how he needed them once more, but they didn't have the money to work with them. It was a clever but devilish idea. Now Hockley Steel could work do business with them one last time thanks to the money of Dawson Inc. Jack smashed the documents back on the table. Anger was all he felt, betrayal was all he could think about. He looked at his brother one more time.

"You bastard. You fucking bastard. You had one job and completely ruined it." He yelled at him. People had turned their heads now watching the scene in front of them. Jack couldn't care less. Let them watch he thought. Let them see how I make a fool out of him. He deserves it.

"Don't talk to me like that." Ernest stood up, pointing his finger at his brother. He had to keep himself stable by leaning on his other arm, which was wrapped around his high chair.

"If you act as irresponsible as you do, I will talk to you however I like. Good luck, Ernest." He turned his back to him and walked off.

"Where the fuck do you think you are going!" Ernest called after him, "Get your ass back here!"

The eight o clock train was about to leave in ten minutes. Just in time, Jack rushed the stairs of the station. After their fight, he went straight to his room to pack his belongings. Lucky for him, he had only brought along one suitcase, making it easy for himself to carry. Going back down he stopped at the reception.

"If Mrs. or miss Hunting ask for me, could you give him this note?"

Completely out of breath he got to the platform, hopped inside the train and watched as the lights of Pittsburgh quickly faded behind him. He let out a sigh of both relief, yet his mind was overflown with worry. How much money they had lost, he did not know, but it couldn't mean the basic end of the company, with only one way to save it. He shook his head as if he could shake the thoughts out of it. Closing his eyes, he drifted into a restless slumber until the train arrived back in Boston a little past midnight.

Rose took a sip of her tea and stared at the empty street outside her window. It was the exact same situation when she knew her mother wasn't going to make it. The stress took over her body, making it impossible for her to sleep. Her nights were filled with reading and staring at the midnight sky. Sleep would come later during the day, but as she made herself ready for bed the feeling completely faded. The urge to head up to Mrs. Adams was big, yet impossible to do so. A sudden shadow hovered over the street. She looked down and saw the silhouette of a man standing in front of her building. He stood there for a while before entering. Rose shot up and slowly walked over to her front door, where she could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. And then, those footsteps stopped right in front of her door. Her doorknob turned a couple of times and she took an umbrella from behind her and held it up like a weapon. The twisting stopped, but Rose could sense the figure still standing outside. She held her breath for a while, too scared to make a single sound. A knock followed by another one. They sounded urgent and loud.

"Get out!" Rose yelled loudly, "I have a gun."

"Rose." Said the voice behind the door. She didn't recognise it until her name was being called another time. She slowly turned the handle and dropped her 'weapon' immediately.

"My god, Jack, what have you done?"

He was holding his head up, pinching his nose to prevent blood from dripping down. Leaning against the doorframe, Rose helped him inside and sat him down at the kitchen table. In the light, she could now see in the state he was in. His clothes were completely covered in dirt and his right eye was swollen up.

"Let me see." She removed his hand and the blood started flowing down his mouth and neck onto his clothes.

"Fuck." He groaned in pain, "don't touch me."

"I need to clean you up. What on earth has happened to you?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh no of course it doesn't if you come here in the middle of the night in the state that you are in." She sounded mad, furious even.

Jack Dawson soon found out that he had brought himself a little flask of brandy when he had been on his way home for over an hour. He took a sip, followed by too many more and stumbled out of the train onto the platform. He could've basically joined his brother as he was now completely drunk himself. Waiting for a cab, a group of young men walked by and stopped right behind him. Jack pushed them off and looked at them in a 'wrong way'.

Oliver then peaked his head from around his bedroom door. He was confused by the scene he saw. "Rose? What's going on?" He asked

"Nothing, Olly," She waved him off, "Please go back to bed."

He didn't listen and stepped outside, watching as his sister held a cloth against his face. Jack cursed in pain and pushed her hand away.

"Are you going to let me help you or what?" She stated.

"Fine."

Rose ordered Oliver to put the kettle on. She slowly unbuttoned his coat and could feel her hands tremble. Next was his shirt, followed by his undergarments, revealing his bare chest. They all remained quiet, only the sound of Jack's breathing filling the room.

"Oliver can sleep with me and you can sleep in his bed." Rose told him as she was nearly finished. Jack shook his head.

"I can just go home." He stood up from his chair and tried to put his shirt back on.

"No, Jack. You're staying here and that is period." She opened Oliver's bedroom door, straightened his blankets and pillow and waited for him to follow her.

"I can't sleep, Ro." Oliver whispered later that night

She sighed and turned her body to face him. His red curls were hanging in front of his eyes and she gently moved them out of his face. "Me neither." She said.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Always."

"Are you in love with him?"

She stayed quiet for a while. Rose had never let this thought cross her mind before. She never stood still by the idea of it. But she had been enjoying his presence more than she liked to admit. The littlest moments seemed to wander through her head daily. From meeting each other on the street or spending the entire afternoon together in silence. She couldn't get enough of it. Oliver's question repeated itself and she sighed deeply again, sat herself straight up in bed and came to the realisation that she indeed felt something for this man that she couldn't quite grasp.

"Olly, I think I am in trouble."

Light peaked through her eyes the next morning and when she opened them she was alone. Two voices came from the other room and Rose found them sitting on the bed.

"Your brother is quite the gentleman." Jack lifted a cup of tea in the air. Rose smiled at Oliver and kissed him on the top of his head.

"Olly, could you give Jack and I a moment please?"

There was an awkward silence between them as they were now alone, but Rose quickly regained her confidence and looked him straight in his eyes.

"You must still be angry with me." Jack said as he felt her eyes burning in his skin. She shook her head.

"I am not angry with you, Jack. Just worried that is all. Why aren't you in Pittsburgh?"

"Instead of gaining wealth we've lost it."

"What do you mean?"

"My brother made us loose more than half of our income. And when I heard the news I just had to leave."

"So you came to a poor person to see what lies ahead of you."

"No of course not." He defended himself. "I- After the fight I just started walking and I had this strange urge to just go to you. I am sorry, Rose. I should have-"

"Well I am flattered, Mr. Dawson." Rose interrupted him. He was still in a state of shock. Rose had left for work not soon after their conversation and he also knew he had to go home. His mother and sister were waiting for him and rushed towards the door when they heard him coming in. Mrs. Huntington had called earlier to tell what had happened. Mrs. Dawson was outraged, but was it her son's dumb investment mistake or the fact that her other son, the more sensible one, had not tried to fix it and simply was gone. Amelia was unstrung by the whole situation and had ordered to go back home straight away.

"What on earth has happened to you?" Cecilia asked as she saw the physical state her brother was in.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" Mrs. Dawson cried, "We've heard what has happened. Why didn't you try to fix it?"

"Fix it? It's always the same damn story. It's time for Ernest to take the responsibility for the mistakes he makes!"

"You know his situation, Jack."

"His situation can go straight to hell. I've been watching over him ever since father died to make sure you didn't have to worry so much about him. And the audacity to give me orders." He marched passed them and ran up the stairs.

Julie shook her head in disbelief as Rose told her what had occurred that night. Rose's friend was far from a fan of this Mr. Dawson even if she had never met the man in person. If he was the brother of Mrs. Spencer, it couldn't be any good. They met in the park again the next week and walked together in silence. Both more occupied by their thoughts than their presence. Jack stopped and sat down on a bench, his injuries still taking the better of him. The past week had been rough for him. Even when he had told everyone that he would quit, he still found himself wandering through the office. Ernest arrived together with the Huntingtons a few days later and when everyone was more worried about him than mad, Jack took his things and stayed at his grandma's place.

"Don't ever put me in a situation like this ever again, Jack." Amelia told him when she finally had a moment to speak with him in person. Jack nodded, apologised and gently asked her to leave.

Rose sat down next to him and watched his gaze wondering off in the distance. "I wish I was able to help you with anything, Jack." She told him. Don't he thought. Don't you dare get too involved with me. He wanted to take her hand in his in front of everyone to see, but it was only their fingertips that touched gently. They sat a little longer like that until the sun was starting to set behind the horizon. They parted ways again, Rose desperately needing time to walk the streets alone. She watched him disappear into the crowd and made her way back home.

She was ready the next day to pack up her stuff. The weekend was waiting just around the corner and she couldn't wait to just lie in bed and let the days pass by. No responsibilities for two days. It felt like a dream. Since Julie had already left an hour ago it was now only her, Jane and two other girls finishing up the last bits. Mrs. Woodbridge walked into the the workplace from out of the kitchen, signed everyone but one to leave immediately and sat down next to Rose. She was extremely close to her and the scent of cheap perfume filled the atmosphere of the room.

"You can work for a few hours more, miss Smith."

"I'm sorry ma'am," Rose answered, "but I have to pick up my brother."

"You are protesting now, aren't you missie? I thought you didn't mind working extra hours in your free time. Are you spending your extra money well?"

Busted. Someone had told her everything about it. She was furious, Rose could see that in the look she gave her. If eyes could burn, Mrs. Woodbridge were the hellfire.

"I don't know what you are talking about." Rose plainly said trying to save what could be saved from her secret. Nothing it seemed. Mrs. Woodbridge towered over her and spoke loudly: "I want all of your money by the beginning of next week. If I don't have it by then you can say goodbye to this job or any job for that matter."

"You wouldn't dare."

"Watch me, miss Smith. You need me more than you might think now that mother of yours isn't there anymore to take care of you." She was left alone in the cold and darkness of the room. Two more dreadful hours and she ran home straight after. Mrs. Adams was out until late in the evening so Oliver only had to wait half an hour until his sister would come home, but no one came. She burst through the door of the building, ran up the stairs straight to her apartment.

"Olly, I am so sorry I am this late." She cried, completely out of breath. There was no instant response, making Rose believe he was angrily waiting for her in his bedroom. She knocked on his door. No answer.

"Olly, can I come in?" it remained quiet. As she walked in, his room was empty. He was no where to be found. There was no sign of Oliver anywhere in the apartment complex nor outside on the street. Rose's chest started to tighten up as her breath became heavy and infrequent. She cursed, cried out his name as often as he could, knocked on everyone's door. It all led to one conclusion: Oliver Smith was gone.