The Explorer's Apprentice

24:You Wouldna' Jumped

I still don't own these people. x) Enjoy!

Listen to the song on the right, my friends! I thought it went perfectly with what Rose here is thinking at a certain point. I love this song so much. x)--------->

Rose Dewitt Bukater

               

                “Well, I’ve been on my own since  I was fifteen,” Jack explains. “Since my folks died.” The roaring of the waves beside them is so loud it’s a wonder she can hear him so clearly. “And I had no brothers or sisters or close kin in that kind of the country, so I lit on out of there and I haven’t been back since.” His voice seems to be the only thing she can hear.

                In the time it takes for a person to walk from the bow of Titanic to the stern, Rose has learned almost everything there is to know about her rescuer--from his background--or what's left of it, to his history, to his future--or the little that's known of it-- and everything in between.

                Jack has traveled through most of Europe in his young lifetime, owned a dog named Todd when he was thirteen, likes to surf, can’t cook, and won his tickets for the RMS Titanic with a very lucky hand at poker.

                She likes the way he talks to her.

                He’s very blunt and very honest, fresh and exhilarating, like mint. It fascinates her how he doesn’t hold anything back. Rose likes hearing about his life, his plans, his adventures. He tells each story well, and his voice is smooth and sweet, like buttermilk. She could get lost in his stories, sort of like how she used to get lost in the tales her grandmother used to share about her many travels. It’s a wonderful feeling. Rose loves stepping away from herself, in a sense.  While she listens to Jack talk, her own life and problems are the farthest thing from her mind.

                Rose likes nodding and genuinely not having to say anything. She loves actually being interested in what someone else has to say for once, as opposed to just pretending to be. She loves not having to pretend to be anything. She loves the smell of him, welcoming and clean, like rain, and something else wonderful and indescribable that’s completely unique to Jack.

                “You can just call me a tumbleweed blowing in the wind.” He laughs softly, reminding Rose of bells.

                The pair round a corner and are greeted by a cold yet refreshing gust of wind. The morning is clear and bright, and there are an endless amount of possibilities for the day. It’s been so long since Rose has felt positive about her day. In fact, the last time she recalls feeling so alive was in her childhood years. It’s an starange feeling, made new and unfamiliar with time, but at the same time, a wonderful one. Vivacity courses through her veins.

                “Well, Rose,” Jack says suddenly, the new name still somewhat unfamiliar on his tongue. “We’ve walked about a mile around this boat deck and chewed over how great the weather’s been and how I grew up, but…well, I reckon that’s not why you came to talk to me, is it?”

                Rose clutches her purse, allowing the scratchy material to rub against her skin. She takes a deep breath. She hadn’t wanted to do any talking. In fact, she would have been completely content with just listening to him all day long. But he does at least deserve an explanation, doesn’t he? After everything he’s done for me…

                “Mr. Dawson, I--”

                “Jack.”