The Stars

With the portfolio shoved beneath his arms, Rose paid particular attention to Jack's well-defined forearms as his sleeves rolled to just below the elbow. A cigarette dangled from his lips, as he half puffed it, half simply exhaled out into the night air. The smoke formed little clouds before disappearing into the cold Atlantic air.

There was something beautifully alluring about the shape of his lips, the concentrated frown that formed between his brows, and how he glanced at her every few seconds as they walked side by side, their feet taking the same steps. Everything felt calming; the whooshing of waves against the ship caused a peaceful but welcoming cut through the generic silence of the night. It was harbouring a moment that was yet to come, and it was as if both could feel it, but neither wished to quite acknowledge it yet.

"You can certainly dance with the rest of us, Rose."

Rose couldn't help but smile at the affectionate tone he took with her, tickled pink that he reserved only for her. He ran his hands through his hair, and she pondered whether these were signs of nerves or just regular traits of his, which she hadn't noticed until now. There was very much she didn't know about him, and she found herself wondering just what she did wish to know about him.

He was mysterious, and she liked that, but she also felt the need to know him or to know some parts of him. Parts of his past. Parts of his present. Where he would go after this voyage. Parts of Paris. Parts that perhaps he hadn't exposed to others before.

She wondered if he'd share them with her, the game they were supposed to play long forgotten.

"I have never danced that way before, that is for certain." Rose was still giddy. Her stomach still felt as though it was suspended in mid-air.

"Do you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, I do." Jack tossed his cigarette overboard before looking to the sky, his gaze venturing off into another world.

"But I like this more." Jack's confession seemed to surprise her. And she knew he was telling the truth by the sincerity in his voice.

"There is something about looking at the sky that makes you feel so peaceful…but it's nice to share it with someone else. Gives you a different perspective. "

"Did the stars look this way in Paris?"

Rose awaited his response with bated breath. Her chest was still, he noticed this much. She raised her brows so that he hurried his response. When his gaze fell on her once more, she felt the flush of her cheeks. When he watched her, it was as though he could see into her very soul and she had never felt so fully exposed to another person in her entire life. Her breathing had returned and she slowly inhaled the air around her as though she struggled to remember that she needed it to survive.

Her heart had begun to race once more and she had just managed to steal the hammer of its pound. In the silence of the night, she was sure that he could hear every beat of it, perhaps even see it through the many materials of her clothing, see just how hard it was pounding.

"Not quite, but it was beautiful by the Seine, watching the artist's work until it was completely dark." He recalled, remembering the stars reflecting off the glassy surface of the river.

His voice broke the minute or two long silence and it was the most unimaginable response one could hope for. Butterflies fluttered, her hands shook, and his gaze had not wavered one bit. He was reading her every facet; watching her every response.

"Sounds like pure serenity," Rose smiled, "isn't that all one wishes for truly in their life?" Before he could answer, she quickly added, "You know I saw the sketches of the young woman without clothes." Rose approached the subject, her voice lined with a strange quiver; if he had noticed, he was polite enough not to mention it. "You must have had quite the love affair with her."

"Oh, no, just with her hands." Jack smiled. So Fabrizio wasn't lying, she laughed internally.

"Just her hands? How could one possibly-" As he pulled the portfolio from beneath his arm, he thrust it open carefully to several pages displaying a pair of hands delicately splayed across white linen.

"She had such beautiful hands, you see."

"And the rest of her?" Rose arched a brow, glancing between the sketches and Jack's mischievous grin.

"She had a good sense of humour."

"I thought every artist had his muse."

"I have yet to find mine," Jack answered her honestly. "Some artists never do."

"Indeed it would be unfortunate." Rose glanced downwards to the deck. "So the young women were simply distractions, along with the bohemian life that you found so idyllic to lead.''

The question delivery was almost heeded; almost in the way that her mother had questioned his very existence at dinner. But she had not meant for it to sound that way.

"In a way, I guess." Jack paused against the rail for a second before turning to gaze at Rose. The decks were slippery, a steward was up ahead mopping, leaving a trail of glass-like shine upon the wood.

"Paris, for me, was all about capturing what was happening on the streets and putting it onto the paper, y'know? I went there to see what the real artists were doing. The truth is, all the shit hung up in the museums, it was beautiful and luxurious, but there was barely any heart to it.''

Rose was out of breath. Out of her mind. Out of her depth but was driven by some sort of instinct. A longing for a man that she barely knew. A longing to know him, perhaps even read him as he seemed to read her.

"And is there any heart in you?"

"In my work?"

Of course, she was referring to something else, but how could he know?

"Yes."

Jack paused a moment. "Well, you tell me, you have seen a lot of what I do."

"I saw quite a few passionate women on the paper."

"You are included in that."

"My clothes were on, Jack."

"Does that make them different?" Jack quipped back. "I saw straight away that something heavy was on your shoulders."

"Indeed." Rose struggled to breathe as though her corset was restraining her internally.

"And I cared about that."

"How can one care when they fail to know me?" She lashed, dismissing his words the only way she knew how with a wave of her left dainty hand until he clasped onto it with his own.

"I know you." He fired back, quietly and quickly. "Since I saw you, I knew you. I knew that there was something. A burden. I watched you from down below. I saw the way your smile never reached your eyes. I knew there was something that weighs you down."

Rose's gasp came out in almost a groan. She failed to stand, her body trembled too much to even attempt movement. He held out his other hand to her, wordlessly. She placed her hand in his and felt how he allowed her to bear weight upon him so that she could stand.

After she grounded herself, she turned, noting just how close their faces were. Up close, he was even more beautiful than from afar and she feared what could happen next for the first time since their meeting. How could she feel utterly safe and so afraid at the same time? She took a shaky breath, gaining some confidence. "Thank you, Jack. Your study of me does appear to be quite detailed, as though you have read me before like some dime novel."

"But am I right?" Jack's voice was soft and concerned, and she couldn't help but feel as though he was asking the question as though it was rhetorical.

''Yes.''

Rose swallowed the large lump in her throat. Being this close to him was dangerous for the both of them and she couldn't help but feel seduced by the intoxicating aroma of him and the intensity which he brought to the air. It was as though it was heavy, and she was in a trance-like state which only ceased when he disappeared. Even out in the cold Atlantic winds, she felt very little of the cold, and instead, she felt every single part of his warmth.

"Why marry him if you still feel this way?"

"Because I must." Rose snapped. "You ask me these questions and fail to answer my own towards you."

"You asked if I had a love affair in Paris. I said no. I was telling the truth." Jack looked directly into her eyes. "Why did you not believe that?"

"I-I never said that. I was only intrigued by your lack of interest in marriage, in the beautiful women there for your pleasure."

"I respected them," Jack said, simply. "I didn't take pleasure in them."

"But they were prostitutes."

"They deserve respect. They are women, working only the way that they know how." Jack went quiet. "I did not say I didn't have an interest in marriage, either."

"But you are so against mine."

"You do not love him. I don't get how it could be good for business is all."

"All Society marriages are, true love matches are rare."

"Get to know each other. Travel together, live together.",

Rose laughed, gaping incredulously. "That would bring utter shame." Jack shrugged. "Why? Because of a damned societal rule book that everyone abides by."

"So what would you propose?"

"If it was you and me?" His voice sent shivers through her entire body. "We could travel, go from place to place . Anywhere that you want, you learn to know each other in the deepest ways. How does the other person survive in those moments when they are hungry, tired, and in extreme circumstances? You lie together at night, exchanging body heat in the winter when it's so cold that you are numb, you can only wrap your bodies together. You share food, share thoughts, everything that goes with bohemian life; even before I went to Paris, it was that way for me."

Rose's mouth went utterly dry. The prospect of living the way he described had never felt so utterly beautiful until that very moment.

"Have you travelled with a woman?"

"No," Jack raised his brow, "no, I have not. Not in that way."

"But what about marriage?"

"It is not the end of your life if you are not married by the time you are twenty, Rose. How old are you?"

"I will be eighteen next month."

Jack pursed his lips, if he was surprised, he did not outwardly show it. "Ma and Pa married young, too."

"And they did not regret it?"

"They were in love." Jack smiled, without hesitation. "They were all that mattered to each other. I would marry

if I found someone who I loved that way, but there would be no rush. I don't see it as a sin to love someone but not marry them right away. Why rush?"

Jack's passion for the topic made Rose feel utterly maddened. She stepped ahead for just a moment to allow the freshness of the winds to circulate about her and gain more air into her lungs, for Jack seemed to have stolen everything, but her hand remained in his, and she was sure that her trembling had started long before she had noticed.

"When Cal and I travelled, I despised it. Seeing everything from the inside of a carriage certainly does not appeal to me. I could not have felt more caged, simply being chaperoned from one event to another. Galas, balls, luncheons, art galleries, the opera, and everything else that required an invite, we had one and attended."

"Why will you marry him, then?"

It was a question that she kept failing to thoroughly answer. Despite all of her efforts, she had yet to give a clear answer.

"I must get back, I only stepped away for a moment tonight and have been away all evening. They will be looking all over for me."

"Could you not have just a few more minutes away from that world, just to see something?"

Rose couldn't breathe; his face was an inch or so from hers. If she stayed any longer, the tension would grow stronger. She had to keep to her word. Her eyes met his, glancing to his lips and then back as her stomach sank at the utter realisation of one thing; she could never leave her world. Could never have the life that he had described, with him.

Whilst she still had some rein on herself, she found her voice.

"Jack, we cannot-"

Jack swallowed harshly and loosened his grip on her delicate hand. He sighed, running his right hand through his hair as a sign of his frustrations. Rose lowered her lashes; she couldn't even look at him. Why did it feel as though she was forcing herself to do this? To let him go. Set him free. Why would they meet like this, always in the most improper, secluded way? Fate was bringing her to Caledon Hockley, wasn't it? Her fate was not to wind up an unwed, travelling artist's lover with no prospects, leaving her family to fail. There was no way she could do that, even when the thought of it appealed more than marrying Cal.

"Rose?" Jack's voice was laced with the same soft hope. "Look–"

"No!" She sharply lifted her face to his.

There was a gentle shudder to her body, as though it was taking all of her strength to not give in.

"All right, I was only about to say, if you look up, it is a full moon tonight. That was the reason I came out here with you to watch the sky and how beautiful it was, for you to see it for yourself, even in the cold, it beats everything."

Glancing up, with an apprehensive stare, with a guilt-ridden posture, Rose found the most marvellous yellowy glow in the sky, lighting and guiding the stars showing even despite the fog. Turning her attention to the beautiful starlit sky she instantly became lost at the sight, her fear and frustrations temporarily melting away.

"Look, it's so beautiful. How vast and endless. I see why you enjoy it so much."

Jack came beside her and gazed at the sky himself, almost as though he had forgotten her outburst.

"I am sorry for what I said,"Rose exhaled, breathing about them in a cloud. "It was wrong of me to speak to you the way that I did. You have graciously aided me back this evening, I feel safer with you here. It is the most gentlemanly thing to do."

"It's all right."

Rose sighed, the depressive state settling over her once more like dust. It grew thicker and thicker by the second until she would ultimately feel the weight of it. Feel the irritation to her chest. Feel how her shoulders sagged once more. Jack made her feel free to…breathe.

"My crowd. They think they're giants they're not even dust in God's eye."

"You know there's been a mistake. You got mailed to the wrong address." Jack smirked and Rose broke into laughter.

"I did, didn't I?"

"You know, maybe there is not much to teach you," Jack smirked. "You seem to have the good bones and structure of how to live in a man's world. You would just need to go through with that."

"I could never-" From the corner of her eye, Rose saw a string of silver dart across the sky. ''Look at the shooting star,'' she pointed.

"Wow, that was a long one." Jack examined the sky to see if he could see it any further, but it had vanished into the far Eastern fog. "You know what pops used to tell me? That every time you saw one it was a soul going to heaven."

"I like that. Are we supposed to wish on it?" Rose turned her head to face Jack, unaware of just how close they had become since spotting the shooting star. Closer than before perhaps, close enough to feel his breathing against her. How was it so pleasant, when Cal made her stomach turn entirely?

"Why? What would you wish for?" Jack gazed down into Rose's eyes. He could feel the tiny contact between them. Rose gazed back and took a look at his face and his lips. She wondered for a split second what it would be like to kiss him. It must have been longer than that, for neither even cared to move. The entire situation was dangerous and just as much as she wanted to stay, she knew that she had to return to her world. She awakened herself from the dream which she appeared to have fallen into. What was the tale where the carriage turned back into a pumpkin by midnight? Well, midnight had long passed…

"Even if I wished for it, it's still beyond my reach and something that I could never have."

The air turned slightly awkward and Rose felt the discomfort. Her reply had sent waves down Jack's stomach. Her heart was now open. She began to take quick steps to gain some distance away from him before he could probe further into her feelings. He would weaken her right away.

"Come, let us get back."

Rose was feeling suffocated and smothered. Slowly, she lost the life within her, feeling drained and lethargic, and she would for a long time, as she walked on ahead, and she could only glance back once to see that Jack was following her, perhaps not as quickly as he wished to. She reached the First-Class entrance and approached the door, fussing with the dinner jacket draped across her shoulders, she shrugged it off and exposed her naked decolletage to the night air, and it hit her with a splash of ice.

"I thank you for this evening," Rose placed the jacket back into Jack's hands. Her words fell out in a tumbled rush, as her heart threatened to burst open. Quickly, she nodded her goodbye, completely avoiding contact until she managed to find herself breaking into a run as soon as she was back inside the ship's interiors.

The B-Deck corridor was long, leading back to the life that she cared nothing for. In a state of hysterics, she fully struggled to pull back together the seams of herself that had come undone, ignoring his calls for her. Ignoring his presence. Forgetting Jack Dawson would be the best for all involved, wouldn't it?