The Explorer's Apprentice

52:Because You Make me Certain

I don't own these people.....x) 

Rose Dewitt Bukater 

He goes first, and then he helps her down hastily, but gently. She adores the feel of his firm hands on her waste.

But it isn’t until both pair of feet hit the grimy floor of the engine room that the first large, sweaty work-man approaches them.  “Oy!” He calls, voice loud and squeaky. “What a’ yew two doing down ‘ere?”

Rose can feel the large grin spreading across her face once more as she grabs Jack’s collar. Her feet are itching to move again.

“Yew shou’nt be down ‘ere, yew could get—“

But Jack and Rose don’t stick around long enough to find out. They’re off again, holding on tightly to each other and racing through the large, seemingly-endless room as huge men with thick accents scream profanities at them that neither Jack or Rose can catch.

Rose feels absolutely magical as she flies throughout the ship like a butterfly, and she loves the feel of both her long dress swishing against her legs, and Jack’s smooth hand in her own.

“Carry on!” Jack shouts back at the angry coal-digging men. Rose realizes how difficult it is to laugh and run at the same time, and it nearly kills her. But the taste of laughter is amazing. “Don’t mind us, you’re doing a great job! Keep up the good work!”

“Blasted kids!!” She can hear someone shout after them. But for once in her life, Rose has never been so proud to be thought of as nothing more than an annoying adolescence. In fact, it feels absolutely wonderful.

They run through strong gushes of smoke, but this doesn’t affect them in the slightest. Always, they keep going. They're unreachable. Unstoppable.Nothing can keep them from going but themselves.  

“Look, in here!” Jack says, fiddling with the long handle of a cold door until he can get it open. Whatever the room on the opposite side holds it’s certainly much quieter, and Jack and Rose are quick to step through. Rose feels as if she’s in a dream, one that keeps switching locations every minute. But this is what makes things all the more exciting.

Beside them, stacks of boxes tied up in securing ropes stand tall, like a castle. And as they continue to drift along what Rose assumes to be luggage, the castle seems to merge into an entire village—a winter wonderland.

“Wow,” Jack breathes. “Look at what we have here, huh?” Rose looks up from the box towers and follows his curious gaze. In the middle of the palace is a bright red car, standing out like a giant memorial. He takes her hand excitedly and guides her towards it. It’s exactly like Uncle Guard’s old car, and the memories that come with it fill her with pure joy. Whenever her uncle would stop by to take her out for lunch, she’d know he was coming from a mile away because the automobile was so loud. When she and Kate had turned twelve, he had offered to teach them to drive it themselves, but Kate had declined only because of the obnoxious sound. Rose, on the other hand, was eager to learn and did so quickly. Laughing, hooting, cranking, cackling, all throughout the town's winding streets--It had been a wonderful afternoon.

Jack lets go of her hand briefly to examine the front of the car. The seats are black and plushy, brand new. On the outside, the paint finish is golden amongst the main scarlet attire.

Rose stands back and clears her throat. Although her energy level is rapidly decreasing, the spontaneous feeling generating within her has yet to cool down. And if she’s lucky, it probably never will again.

Jack turns back to look at her and she gestures with expecting eyes towards the car door. He lets out a soft chuckle and makes his way beside her. Standing up tall, he clears his throat and sniffs, right arm outstretched as he opens the door.

“Thank you,” Rose says jokingly as she slides inside. She exhales steadily and takes a slow look at her surroundings. The interior is lovely, even nicer than Uncle Guard’s car. It still has that ‘new car’ smell, and the seats are squishy. Judging by the perfect condition, Rose concludes that she’s probably the first to ever set foot inside. In the corner on the car hanging over the door is a small bouquet of bright red roses— the well-known symbol of romance. Rose feels enchanted as she sits back against the chair and settles in.  She loves not knowing what to expect, or what’s going to happen in the next few minutes, hours, days.

And it feels even sweeter than in her dreams.

Jack slides into the driver’s seat ahead of her with perfect posture, and honks the horn. “Where to, miss?”

Here is a moment that Rose knows she will savor. Here is a moment that she knows she’s going to make count—one that she will always remember and tell her—or maybe, just maybe, their— children about, and their grandchildren.

Rose’s skin shivers, but suddenly she’s never felt so comfortably warm. She leans over and pulls down the car window, her mouth parallel to his ear.

Reason number seven: because you taught me to live.

“To the stars,” she whispers. 

Jack turns back to look at her, and she reaches her arms out and clasps them tightly under his muscular arms. He lets her pull him quickly onto the back seat and he laughs, showing not a trace of resistance.

The pair cozy up closely, having nothing to separate them but thin air. Silence envelopes them. Rose grabs his collar and sinks into him, resting her head on his broad, firm chest. He places a protective arm around her tiny shoulders, like a soothing blanket, and head rises and falls with each breath he takes. She closes her eyes. It's as if she’s drifting along a gentle sea, drifting away from everything, absolutely everything, but this second--this moment. 

All she can focus on then are Jack’s turquoise eyes, his enchanting, sweet scent, and the steady rhythm of his breathing. It’s as if nothing else matters in the world. Nothing else but this beautiful, perfect moment.

She looks up at him, and he down at her. Rose has never been gazed upon in such a way before, never before did she begin to imagine what it would feel like. Jack stares at her adoringly, like she’s a wonder, and his eyes glimmer with utter amazement.  She brings her right hand to his, the feel of his skin like being bathed by moonlight, and Rose can’t seem to get enough of it. Their fingers intertwine like a vine to a garden fence as if they belong together. And she knows that they do.

She always has.

She wants him, forever, every last inch of him. She wants him more than life, more than the air she breathes. Her want is like an ache between her ribs.

“You nervous?” Jack asks her gently, his voice barely a whisper.

She keeps her voice low and soft, and sincerity coats her lips. “No.” 

Reason number eight:  because with you is where I belong.

For the first time in years, Rose is home.

Reason number nine: Because I need you. 

He smiles, and Rose brings his hand to her mouth, kissing each fingertip gently. They’re like little drops of beautiful morning dew against her lips. This is what she’s been waiting for her whole life—the life she’s been craving—the place she’s been working to get to ever since she was born.

Here it is, she thinks certainly, My moment. This is it. She nestles herself closer to him, basking in his presence. She wants to hear his heart—she wants to press her ear against his chest and hear the lovely beating, the lovely life. She wants to get closer. This is love.

Reason number nine: because you make me certain.

“Put your hands on me, Jack.”