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The Palm Court Restaurant was once a light and airy space, featuring opulent, trellised decor, wicker cane furniture, and large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out to the vast, peaceful sea. Now, though, that sea was black, glassy, and restless. It tilted. It was frightening. It felt cruel when it had once felt soothing. The strongest vessel, now emptying her entire contents into the freezing, unforgiving, bitter Atlantic Ocean, left them to fend for themselves.
Thomas Andrews had stood eerily still in the First Class Smoking Room and, with deeply caring eyes, had wished Rose onwards with good luck. He had been left with an emptiness of guilt and shame as he watched them scramble onwards. Jack had urged her to leave him standing there, and in return, she had been given his life jacket. She clutched the shoulder, her entire body trembling, and it was as though she had not realised the true gravity of everything until now in this very moment.
"Not the better half." Cal's smug voice echoed in her ears, and her stomach lurched, bile rising into her throat, and her eyes stung with unshed emotion. She was cold, so very cold, she could feel it seeping into her bones. Cal's woollen overcoat was sodden from almost drowning below decks and nearly being shot by both Cal and Lovejoy. The latter, when Cal hurried back up the staircase like a drowned rat when the water rose too high, his ammo ran out, leaving his lackey to attempt to finish the job. It was almost laughable; the scene highlights Cal's true cowardice. As Jack was the victor, his agile and nimble physique, paired with the reflexes of a young pugnacious lad who had lost his mother and father far too young, had overpowered the older, greying ex-Pinkerton.
They were only just finding their way back up towards the decks now. The coat that Cal had thrust upon her was burdensome, yet she was still propelled onwards from some unknown source of strength; perhaps this was the fire Jack was talking about. This power inside her was the one she had failed even to recognise until this very day, and now it had somehow started to burn brightly.
Glancing about, it was apparent that the other passengers were either stupefied by what was happening or hysterical. Her only anchor to reality was Jack's tight grip on her hand, pulling her through the dense crowd as they reached the other side of the once-luxurious cafe, which was now in utter turmoil.
She could hear the band off somewhere playing a faded Nearer My God To Thee; the lonely, haunting notes chilled her to the very core. Instantly, she pulled at Jack's wrist, fingers brushing against his broken restraints and scrapes from what she assumed were his attempts to free himself before she discovered him, causing him to turn. Immediately, his blue eyes filled with concern that she could have wept for days.
''Rose?''
''Jack.'' Rose's voice faltered after that. A lump rose in her throat, making it difficult to speak. She could barely breathe through the panic that was escalating within and around her.
''Rose,'' Jack's voice wavered as he repeated her name, unable to stop his tremors as he pulled at Rose's coat sleeve, ''you were so damned stupid, know that?'' Echoing words that he repeated at the bottom of the Grand Staircase, he rushed out softly. Both of them knew. They were sure they could not live without the other, not now.
His breathing grew erratic as his adrenaline refused to die down. Given the chance, he could have dragged Lovejoy below decks, dragging Rose throughout the entire ship. He would have done anything. Anything to save their lives and escape this Hell.
Was there any blame to be laid? He felt like tearing into someone, but his own body seemed to fail him, pulling and aching as he dragged them both. With chattering teeth, he focused on Rose and searched her eyes within the darkness with a new quietness that had fallen over them.
Palm Court was dark, with only outward lights from the deck casting an eerie glow of doom. He led her to the window, towards the light looming out ahead. It was like a different plane of existence, without much panic or warning of what was happening, or what had happened, just metres below their feet.
Jack's shirt was completely soaked, and as Rose placed her trembling hand on his shoulder, he shuddered. Warmth filled his frigid bones momentarily; only she had the power to do that. Raking her hand across his handsome face, he clutched onto his chest and let out a cough so body-wracking that Rose held onto him to aid in supporting him any way she could. It sounded as though someone was clawing at his lungs. He was shuddering, trembling. She also noted he was wearing many fewer clothes than she was. It was as though, suddenly, everything had hit him, too, and he straightened with a newfound glow.
''How could I let you go? How could I-'' Rose couldn't finish as she watched him with a fiery gaze which made his blood warm instantly; he moved his right hand to her nape, pulling her mouth to his in the most breathtaking kiss one could ever have. Her body weakened, melting against his without a care for how soaked his shirt was, as if they were seen or how this had happened.
They clattered back against the wall, too weak to stand alone; water was leaking inwards, sneaking up to them. His hands went into her hair, his tongue caressing hers. His heart hammered against his chest. This could be the end of everything, so he had to make it count. He tightened his muscles, resisting the urge to carry her outside, to carry them off to whatever safety he could in that very moment with his mouth still on hers.
He was distracting himself from the sinking, from that damn Hockley and his manservant, from the fact that Rose had risked her life to be with him until the very end. His reasons for striving for survival weren't for himself anymore but for her. He wanted to scold the woman he loved for changing her life's station, risking her own life to search for him and save him, just as he had done for her mere days before. That had felt like a lifetime ago now.
There wasn't a damn chance he could stop holding onto her now. He wanted to be angry at her for coming to find him, mad for her jumping back onto the ship to be with him. Still, it had lit a fire within him, a passionate one, burning brighter than he could have ever known and that had driven him to near madness this very minute. Rose cared for him more than he deserved; that was the only reason she risked her own life: either that or insanity. He knew that it was not the latter; otherwise, together, they would be utterly insane.
Rose's arms slid around his neck. The need for her spun him in spirals of heat despite the frigidness of their surroundings. He clasped her harder, gripped her neck, and pulled her mouth tighter. Images of her in the warm Santa Monica surf, her in the lavender fields of France, the sun setting her hair aglow, making her look like a Monet painting had filled his mind, but now those were the facets of her that he needed to see.
''The water's coming up faster.'' He heard a voice nearby, snapping him back to reality. He tensed, pulling his mouth from Rose's.
''Come on.'' He rasped, almost inaudibly. Rose escaped from the moment he had completely shattered her illusion of danger. ''Put this on.'' He hurriedly put her life jacket over her head, and as she threaded her arms through, he moved her hair out of the way. The knots in her belly briefly blossomed into butterflies as his fingers brushed her nape. Once he had secured it, they exchanged a glance, an affinity of some kind. A conviction that they would have each other and everything would be all right.
Clutching her hand, he pulled her quickly to the exit, which led out to the A-deck aft on the port side. Adrenaline worked in mysterious ways, and now, as the icy Atlantic breeze hit them, it was as tough. She was now his reasoning. It awakened him in every single way. At the sight of the chaos pursuing, realisation hit him hard.
''You're so stupid,'' Jack repeated, his hand at the base of her neck, almost bringing her head towards him in a needy way. Rose's hands trembled on his shirt.
''I had to find you, to free you. I wanted to let you know that I knew you were innocent. I couldn't get on that boat, Jack, not without you...''
''God, Rose.'' Jack's lungs felt like they were about to burst into flames, aching and pressing. ''We will think of something together,'' he echoed earlier. Jack pushed to the rail, looking over to witness the ship's state. ''The bridge is already underwater.''
''For certain?''
''Yes, we have to get to safety.''
Rose's fingers started clawing at his hair, and her legs almost buckled. Whimpering as he kissed her jaw, her ear, and her brow, she panted harshly. Her porcelain skin tasted like her: soft, sweet, salty and complex. Like clouds formed of lust. Instinctively, his fingers moved to her face.
"What are you doing to me?''
There was utter chaos on the decks, with people flying around in a state of hysteria, bashing into them both and thrusting them onwards. But there, in the centre of it all, Rose could only thank God for Jack.
Jack's sanity returned gradually. First, Rose stroked his face tenderly and kissed his jaw softly as she might a man with a fever. The touches soothed him in ways he hadn't realised he needed.
"Jack," she sighed, stroking his brows with her thumbs. She kissed his lips. Softly. Chastely. Then, she caught his gaze and the floodgates burst open, her eyes as blue as cornflowers dancing in a summer field. "I can't go without you; I refuse to go anywhere else without you beside me.''
And just like that, Jack's heart broke open. He didn't know what to say. What could he say? Perhaps he loved her? He knew he did; that was for sure.
''Rose, you would not have to go,'' he silently pleaded with her, his eyes conveying the depths of the intensity of his soul. ''Not without me.''
''No, not without you.'' She repeated, breathing hard against him.
Jack's lips twitched, and he pulled her closer to him. Their breaths clouded about them, joining as one as they floated upwards with the wind. The temperatures had plummeted. Rose ceased, growing painfully aware of the fate of her surroundings, of this ship.
Around her, people gathered in prayer; some simply took a brandy in a darkened corner. The entire contents of this ship were teeming with memories of a romance. Just hours before, she had been a girl, feeling alive, and the one who had come so close to jumping from the stern of a ship was a distant dream, or perhaps, a nightmare.
A fading dream, perhaps.
Clutching her trembling hand to the rail, Rose sought the refuge of the sea. Not far away, lifeboats were floating away to safety; people were jumping into the icy depths, swarming to the boats. About her and below, orders were barked as the last of the lifeboats were launched. She felt like an ant in a large swamp in contrast to what was happening to her.
There were 2,200 souls aboard, perhaps more. The ship hit the berg hours ago. Dawn would be approaching them soon. But not nearly soon enough.
In the furthest corner of the earth, though, it was still black as coal, and there was no moon in sight. Blinking through bleary eyes, Rose watched from afar as crewmen worked the lifeboats, watched the panic, and heard the haunting final notes of the hymn. She felt as if she wasn't watching from her own body, but rather from somebody or something else, perhaps.
''Okay...we keep moving aft; we must stay on the ship as long as possible.'' Jack snapped her out of her reverie, his hand squeezing hers.
She nodded, squeezing his hand in return. They would make it out of here. They would not die here, not tonight. Their love for each other set her heart ablaze, and with that, she knew they could overcome anything together.
Nothing on earth could come between them.