The soft sound of the waves lapping at the shore providing a soothing backdrop as he sketched. The rhythmic sound of the ocean, the salty breeze, and the feel of the coarse sand beneath him had become his refuge. Drawing had become a habit that calmed his mind, allowing him to lose himself in the lines and shadows on the paper. He sketched scenes of the beach, portraits of strangers, and sometimes even fragments of memories from a life he was trying to piece back together.

He was deep in concentration, the charcoal moving swiftly over the paper, when he heard footsteps approaching. Jack glanced up to see John, Arthur's younger brother, striding toward him, a look of mild exasperation on his face.

"There you are," John called out as he got closer. "I've been looking for you for hours."

Jack smiled faintly, setting his sketchpad aside. "Sorry, I didn't mean to worry you. Just needed some quiet time."

John plopped down beside him, brushing sand off his trousers. "Well, you're always out here, sketching away. But listen, we're all going out tonight. There's this new club in town we'd really like to show you. Thought you might want to join us."

Jack hesitated, glancing back at his sketchpad. The idea of going out to a club, of being in a loud, crowded place, didn't appeal to him. He had finally managed to get himself off alcohol, and the thought of being around it again made him uneasy.

"I don't know, John," Jack began slowly. "I'm not really in the mood for going out."

John leaned back on his hands, looking out at the ocean. "Come on, Jack. You've been living on tea and biscuits since you got here. It's not healthy. It's just one night out. You don't have to drink or anything. Just come and have some fun."

Jack looked at John, appreciating his concern. He knew John was trying to help, but the idea of stepping back into that world filled him with dread. "I appreciate it, John, really. But I'm not sure it's a good idea."

John sighed, clearly trying to find the right words. "Look, I know you've been through a lot. And I get that you need your space. But it's good to go out once in a while. You can't hide away on this beach forever."

Jack ran a hand through his hair, feeling the pull of John's words. He had been isolating himself, and while the beach and his drawings brought him peace, he knew he couldn't avoid the world forever.

"I'll think about it," Jack said finally, not wanting to outright refuse but still unsure.

John clapped him on the shoulder. "That's all I ask. Just think about it. We'll be at our usual place if you change your mind. It's called the Golden Wall "

As John got up to leave, Jack watched him go, feeling a mix of gratitude and reluctance. He picked up his sketchpad again, trying to recapture the calm he had felt before, but John's words lingered in his mind.

Later that night, Jack sat alone in his hotel room, the night wrapping around him like a heavy blanket. The sounds of laughter and music drifted up from the streets below, seeping through the closed window. He stood there for a moment, looking out into the bustling city, a pang of loneliness hitting him. He reminded himself that he could have fun without having to get drunk. The thought was both comforting and daunting.

He had been alone for most of his time in Los Angeles, trying to avoid the social scenes that might tempt him back into old habits. But now, with only a week left before he returned home, he felt a longing to reconnect with people, to feel alive again.

Taking a deep breath, Jack decided to take John up on his offer. He grabbed his coat and headed out, making his way to the club. The night air was cool and refreshing, a stark contrast to the warm, noisy atmosphere he soon found himself in. As he entered the club, the smell of smoke and the sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air.

John saw him almost immediately, a broad smile spreading across his face as he waved Jack over to their table. "Jack! You made it!" he called out, his voice barely audible over the din.

Jack smiled back, feeling a bit more at ease as he joined them. "Yeah, thought I'd see what all the fuss was about."

The table was filled with a mix of married men and bachelors, all of them animated and excited about the upcoming dance show. They chatted and joked, the married men seemingly more excited than the bachelors, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Jack tried to join in the casual conversation, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He glanced around the room, taking in the vibrant atmosphere, when the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. The crowd hushed, and the stage lights came up, illuminating the dancers as they took their positions.

Jack watched with mild interest at first, the dancers moving gracefully across the stage. Then, suddenly, a dancer with red curly hair turned around and headed towards the front of the stage. He noticed something in her movements, something he recognised too well. It wasn't until he clearly saw her face when his heart stopped. It was Rose.

For a moment, he couldn't breathe, his eyes locked onto her as she moved. She was looking radiant in her clothing, her movements fluid and captivating. The past year seemed to melt away, and he was transported back to a time when they were together, before everything fell apart.

John, noticing Jack's sudden change in demeanor, leaned over and whispered, "You okay, mate?"

Jack barely registered the question, his attention wholly focused on Rose. "Yeah, I'm fine," he muttered, though he knew it was a lie.

"They are a real treat to look at, aren't they, Dawson?"

He didn't answer. The show continued, but for Jack, time seemed to stand still. Every movement she made, every glance she threw at the audience, felt like it was meant for him. He was torn between the joy of seeing her again and the pain of knowing how much had changed. As the performance ended, the dancers took their bows, and the crowd erupted in applause. Rose suddenly caught sight of Jack, her eyes widening in shock. She faltered for a moment, then quickly recovered, giving a final bow before quickly disappearing backstage.

Jack's mind raced. He had to see her, to talk to her. Without thinking, he stood up and made his way through the crowd, ignoring John's calls behind him. He slipped past the stage and found himself in the dimly lit corridors backstage, searching for her.

He finally found her in a small dressing room, her back to him as she removed her makeup. He knocked softly on the doorframe, his heart pounding.

"Rose." He breathed.

Rose remained standing with her back towards Jack, her shoulders trembling. She couldn't bear to see him, and she didn't want him to see her like this. The weight of the past year, the pain, the shame—all of it threatened to overwhelm her.

"Go away," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "Go away right now."

"Rose, please," Jack implored, stepping closer. "I can't walk away. Not after all this time. Not after missing you for so long."

Suddenly, the door swung open, and an older man strode in. He called out Rose's name with a possessive familiarity, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck. Rose stiffened but didn't pull away.

"Who's this?" the man asked, turning to Jack with a smirk. "What are you doing here?"

Jack's jaw clenched, and he shot back, "I could ask the same of you."

The man raised an eyebrow and looked at Rose. "I booked you for tonight, didn't I?"

Rose could only nod, her eyes filling with tears.

It all fell into place for Jack in that moment. The realization that it was more than just a dance performance, that Rose had to sleep with men, hit him like a punch to the gut. He felt sick to his stomach, the bile rising in his throat.

The man, sensing Jack's turmoil, sneered and pushed him away. "Get lost, mate. She has work to do."

Jack stumbled back, the world spinning around him. He could see the pain in Rose's eyes, but he was powerless to help her. The man closed the door, leaving Jack alone in the dimly lit hallway.

He quickly fled the building, his heart pounding in his chest. Outside, the cool night air hit him, and he tried to catch his breath. The street was still alive with people, but their laughter and chatter felt distant and hollow.

Jack leaned against the wall, his mind racing. The image of Rose with that man, the reality of her situation—it was all too much. He wanted to scream, to punch something, to make the pain go away.

Rose's heart pounded as she walked to work the next afternoon. The sleepless night had left her exhausted, her mind in turmoil. The image of Jack in the crowd and then in her dressing room was too much to bear. She had tried to flee, but he had still managed to find her. Her head was pounding with the stress and confusion.

Entering the building, one of the girls came up to her. "I know I'm late, I'm sorry," Rose quickly said, but the girl simply shook her head.

"There's a man here waiting for you. I forgot his name. But he demands to see you. We tried to send him away, but he says he won't leave until he has seen you."

Rose's stomach dropped. "Where is he?"

"In your dressing room."

With an inner rage, Rose marched towards her room, her anger building with each step. She flung the door open and found him there, sitting on the chair in the corner, looking as determined as ever. She quickly closed the door behind her, fury washing over her.

"I don't want to see you," she spat at him. "If you don't go away right now, I will scream and they will come rushing inside this room to drag you out!"

With his eyes full of sorrow and determination, Jack stood up slowly. "Go on then. Scream. Scream as loud as you want, but they can't take me away from you. Not after I've been trying to find you for over a year."

"I don't care how long you have been trying to find me. I want you out of this room!"

"Then scream," he stated, "scream for someone to help you. To drag me away."

She couldn't.

Jack continued, "I will go, Rose, I promise, but not after I've told you the truth about everything."

She hesitated for a moment, the tears welling in her eyes and for the first time she dared herself to look at him. Without wanting to believe it, she could sense a sincerity in his expression which, perhaps, made the whole situation thus painful. Despite being inside the warm building, Rose's body was trembling of the cold and she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck.

"What truth is there to be spoken, Jack?" Rose cried softly, "You married another woman whilst promising me a future with you."

He shook his head heavily. "Amelia and I never married."

Rose's eyes widened in shock and she dropped down onto her chaise longue. "What?"

"I eventually called it off after I found out the truth myself," Jack took a deep breath before continuing his story, "It was Ernest together with Amelia who were behind the break in of your apartment. They found the letters between your mother and Mrs. Adams, containing the information about the abuse of your father. They knew something was going on between us and threatened me to contact your father if I didn't agree to marry Amelia. Something which our families had wanted since we were young. Instead of relying on any form of reason, I turned into a coward. Turning towards the bottle when you needed me. But after everything you told me your father had done to you, I panicked. I couldn't bear the thought of him doing that again. So I agreed to marry Amelia to spear you any more pain. Ernest promised me not to announce the engagement to the public before telling you the news myself, but he lied and let the newspaper print it. I believe that is how you found out, didn't you?"

Rose nodded hear head.

"Granny was angry with me as well for not having consulted her. After a good conversation with her I realized that I had one thing I could rely on. Money. I went to Philadelphia, managed to track down your father to give him as much money as he'd like just to leave you alone. But when I arrived at his home… I…. I found out that he had passed away then two years before."

Taking in the news, Rose gasped in shock. "My father is dead?"

"Yes." Jack breathed. He stared at Rose as she now burst out into hard sobs. As a reflex, Jack rushed to her side, wanting to console her, but she pushed him away. "Realizing there was no threat any longer, I went to your house to tell you the news, but you were already gone. I tried to look for you everywhere I could, Rose. But you had simply vanished into thin air."

Rose stood up, walked towards her vanity and tried to dry her tears. In the reflection of her mirror she watched Jack stand up as well.

"I know that you hate me, Rose. And you have every right to do so after everything I have done. Yet, I still love you. I have loved you all this time and instead of turning my love into strength, I turned it into weakness. But now you know the truth and I will leave you alone from now on."

"That's the problem, Jack," Rose stopped him before he could walk out of the door, "Despite all the pain you have caused me, I couldn't hate you. Perhaps I can never hate you, no matter how many times you are able to break my heart. And I despise myself for it."

There was a short silence between the two of them until Jack dared to speak again. "Why did you leave, Rose? We could have worked it out."

"I didn't have any choice. I had to."

"Had to?"

Looking down at her feet, Rose's voice lowered. "Yes, Jack, I had to. I didn't want to leave the city. All I wanted was to be able to forget the situation, to be together with Oliver, but I couldn't. People would eventually find out that…."

Before Rose could finish her sentence, a loud knock was heard on her door. "Rose, you need to be ready in ten minutes!"

She looked at Jack with widened eyes, noticing he was still yearning for an answer. "I really have to get myself dressed, Jack."

"Will you allow me to wait for you? I can see that there is something you are not telling me."

Rose sighed and slightly shook her head. "I can't let you distract me again. But I am free tomorrow. Will you meet me in front of the club tomorrow at twelve?"

"I will." Jack breathed. They stared at her for a moment longer and Jack could feel himself drowning in his feelings. How he longed to hold her this very moment, to rest her face against his chest, to trace her hair and kiss the top of her head. He wanted to be able convince her that everything was going to be okay. Yet, in the turmoil of emotions he managed to keep his composure and leave the building without looking back.

As the afternoon slowly turned into another restless evening, the girls set themselves up behind the curtains of the stage. Rose could already hear the men roar from the other side. Before the curtains went up, Maureen took hold of Rose's hand.

"Who was that man today, Rose?" She whispered in her ear.

Rose let out a deep sigh, looking the girl straight in the eyes. "That, Maureen, was the father of my child."