BACK WITH YOU
Chapter Sixteen

Jessamyn didn't sleep a wink that night. She lay tossing and turning, her mind a clutter of thoughts. Sleep would be a good thing, she decided at around one in the morning, but whenever she would be close to catching it, the little devil would taunt her and move farther away after filling her head with more questions. And it didn't help matters that she shared a wall with her mother's bedroom, either. You would think they would be able to keep it down, but no.

So, before dawn, she finally gave up and slugged out of bed. Almost falling over from the fatigue, she managed to make it into the bathroom to take a quick and cold bath to wake herself up. But even that attempt failed somewhat, and as she got dressed and dried her hair with a towel, she felt the headache that haunted those with no sleep return.

Coffee was her next mission. Thankfully, Rose had bought some more just a few days ago. Jessamyn made the strongest, blackest brew she could manage, and with a mug in her hand, went outside to sit and watch the sun come up.

She so badly wanted to run inside and wake her parents up, demanding that they tell her what happened. But she knew she couldn't. It was very frustrating, having all these questions and finding no answers. And while she understood that they needed time to be with each other right now, she was still their daughter. She was the innocent third person in their little tragedy, and she wanted answers.

Jessamyn was on her second cup of coffee when she finally decided that she was mad at both of them. Mad at Rose for not finding her father, for giving her up, and just because she had the whole thing twisted. And Jack--he was a worthy enemy, too. She didn't even know how he had become separated from her mother, and she didn't care. All she knew was that she was mad at him, too. If he had been around, none of this stupid mess would have happened.

All of a sudden, Jessamyn started to cry. She felt immediately guilty that she had possessed such thoughts. Rose had only been trying to give her a better life when she gave her up. And maybe Jack had looked for Rose but had given up after awhile, deciding it was hopeless. Maybe they had been hurt deeper than anyone else would or could ever know. But still, Jessamyn couldn't stop the tears from falling. Before she had found out the truth about Mr. Jack, she had been happy here with Rose. She had been content with what had happened. But now she was so confused and so hurt. She wanted to go back to Maine and make everything go away. She wanted her old life, before Rose, before Titanic, before Jack, before any of this had happened. She wanted what she used to know--that she was the daughter of Elizabeth and James Calvert, that she had brothers and sisters, that she was a normal girl.

But she couldn't go back to Maine. The yearnings for the Atlantic sea air, her old haunts, her old friends was strong, but she knew that if she went back she would only miss the life she had here. Santa Monica and Rose were home now. The chapter that was her childhood had ended. She couldn't go back. Things were never going to be the same again. But even so…

Wiping her tears away, Jessamyn got up and walked back inside. She needed to get away for a couple of hours to sort her mind out. But where could she go? She didn't have a car, or much money. And there was really only one person she would want to see right now.

Quickly, Jessamyn grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a note to Rose on it. She left it on the counter where her mother would surely not miss it, and then grabbed her jacket before quietly slipping out the front door.

She walked around town for almost an hour, just thinking. And before she knew it, she had ended up on the front steps of Charlie's apartment. It was around seven, so she knew he probably wasn't even awake yet. But even so, she knocked a few times, and then just stood there with her hands stuffed in her pockets.

He eventually made it to the door and opened it, peeking around the edge so that whoever was there wouldn't see his pajamas. Needless to say, he was shocked to see Jessamyn standing there. She looked terrible, if he was being honest. Tear streaks ran down her cheeks, and her eyes were red and puffy. Not to mention she had the most depressed and lost look on her face that Charlie had ever seen on a person in his life.

"Jess? Are you all right?" he asked cautiously.

Jessamyn looked down for a minute and then finally looked back at him. "Can I sleep on your couch for a couple of hours?" she asked, avoiding his question.

Charlie looked really confused, but he nodded and moved aside to let her in. He was expecting her to make some comment about his clothes, but she didn't even notice them. It was then that he knew that something was going on. He watched in concern as she wearily made her way into his home and over to the couch. In one motion, she sat down as her arms flopped into her lap. Her eyes were focused nowhere. They just simply stared into oblivion.

"Are you all right?" he asked again, as he slowly moved toward her. Gently, he sat down next to her and waited for an answer.

Jessamyn shook her head, and then shrugged her shoulders. "I didn't sleep all night," was all she said.

That was obvious. Charlie wasn't sure what he should do next. Something was definitely going on, but she seemed so fragile, as if he said the wrong thing she might break. Cautiously, he gently placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her to him. She had scarcely lain her head down when hot tears began to fall from her eyes.

"It’s all horribly twisted, Charlie," she sobbed into his shirt. "I'm so confused and it's all a big mess. I don't know how I am going to face them. I'm embarrassed, too." Her words ran together, making it hard for him to understand.

"Who? Who can't you face?" Charlie asked softly.

"My mom and dad. Oh, Charlie, everything has just changed so much. I had finally come to accept what had happened and then he comes back and changes it all. And it’s not like I'm not happy for them or that he's back, but I just don't understand." She started to cry so hard that it was hard to even hear her.

Charlie sat there and just held her, thinking of what she had said. Her father was here? She had told him that he was dead. This was certainly something new. "What do you mean, your dad?" he asked cautiously, scared as to how she would react.

Jessamyn stopped crying and pulled away from her comforter. "You know that man…Jack Dawson," she mumbled hoarsely, looking down at her hands. "He's actually my father…I guess." She hadn't heard her mother confirm this, but from the way both of them had reacted to seeing one another, she could assume no less was true. She glanced up at Charlie, and wiped some tears from her sore eyes.

He looked at her in shock. Mr. D, the pier artist, was her father? "I don't understand," he confessed aloud.

"I don't either!" Jessamyn wailed, and then, before she could start crying again, she broke down and told him everything. Without giving specific details or anything, she spilled out the whole story of her mother and the Titanic and everything to Charlie. She didn't even care that her mother had told her not to tell anyone. It wasn’t like Charlie was just some random person she had met on the street. He sat there, even more stunned, and listened to her for the better part of twenty minutes until she finally finished. "And so now I am really confused because--" She sniffled. "--I don't know whether or not to believe her, and if it is true, then why didn't my dad look harder? And why didn't she? And I just…I just…" She broke down crying again, and Charlie immediately moved to wrap his arms around her.

"Jess, darling, you're going to be all right. But you know what? You really need to talk to them…especially your mom," he whispered into her hair. He felt her nod, but she didn't say anything. So he just sat there with her until she finally stopped crying and ventured to look at him.

"You going to be okay?" he asked.

Jessamyn nodded again, and then moved away from him. "Can I sleep?" she asked, her voice suddenly sounding very tired.

Charlie started chuckling, but he nodded. "Of course," he said sincerely. Gently, he helped her lay down, and then reached behind them to grab a blanket. Standing up, he covered her up and then handed her a couch pillow.

"When do you want me to wake you up?" he asked quietly.

Jessamyn shrugged and pulled the blanket closer to her chin. "I don't care," she said, amidst a big yawn, and then her eyes flickered closed.

Smiling, Charlie reached down and softly stroked her hair. She smiled, but didn't open her eyes or acknowledge him beyond that. So he mouthed a good night, and then went back to his bedroom. There was still some shuteye time that he needed as well.

*****

Meanwhile, Rose was still in a deep, content sleep, warm in her bed. Jack, who had woken up sometime before, was still beside her, just watching her. She would breathe in, and then breathe out, and he was sure he had hardly ever seen anything so amazing in his entire life. Yesterday at this time, he believed he would never see her breathe again. And now here she was, lying on her stomach, her face turned toward him and her bare shoulders just…there.

Jack smiled to himself and softly draped his arm around her shoulders. This was too much for him to handle. He needed her to be awake. Gently, he placed tiny kisses on her very available lips until she finally made a sound.

Rose was sure she was waking up in heaven as her eyes fluttered open to Jack's mouth on hers. She was met with his eyes staring into hers, and she smiled as he did the same.

"Hey, you," she whispered.

"Morning," he whispered back.

"What time is it?"

Jack kissed her again; he couldn't resist, and then said, "After ten…you slept a long time."

Rose groaned happily and rolled over onto her back. "I was a little worn out," she said slyly, rolling her eyes toward him.

Laughing, Jack moved to lean over her. "That good, huh?" he teased, smiling down at her.

Rose stretched her hands above her head, a move that just about killed Jack. "Oh, you know it," she whispered, bringing her arms back down, and on the way, wrapping them around Jack's neck. "We need to talk to Jessamyn," she reminded him, before he could say anything else.

"I know," Jack said, nodding. "But I think I heard her leave this morning."

Rose sighed and pushed Jack off of her so she could sit up. "I really wanted to explain things to her right away," she groaned, dangling her legs over the side of the bed and looking at the floor.

Jack sat up behind her. "She'll be back later…right? I mean, where could she have gone?" he asked, taking the liberty to rest his chin on her right shoulder.

Rose turned her head and kissed him softly. "True," she whispered before she broke out into a bright smile. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm famished."

He watched her get up and cross the room, and dear Lord--she was naked while she did it. It hurt in places that he didn't even realize he had when she opened her closet, grabbed a light green bathrobe, and then wrapped it around herself. It was like watching a very sexy movie, except he was a part of it.

"You going to come?" she asked, turning around and cocking her head.

Her words knocked him out of his stare, and Jack nodded. He realized he had best get some clothes on, too, and he looked around, picked up a few pillows and threw them aside, and then looked back toward her. "What happened to my…shorts?" he asked, before he burst out laughing.

Rose broke into that bright smile he loved, but she came over and started throwing blankets around. Jack shrank back when she pulled his sheet away and then started laughing. "I don't know where they are," she said, giggling.

But he wasn't looking at her anymore, he was looking past her. Rose followed his gaze and turned around. Hanging on a lamp across the room were the shorts. She blushed, realizing she must have flung them over there, and quickly went to go retrieve them.

"Here," she mumbled, thrusting them in front of Jack's face. He grinned at her and then slipped them on. After quickly finding his pants among the sheets, he got out of bed and put those on as well.

Rose stood across from him, her hands on her hips, and watched him, a placid look on her face. She was still in a state of shock that this man was here. The past eighteen…no…nineteen years, nineteen years now, had been nothing but pain and suffering, a day to day struggle to make it through one more night alone, knowing that she would have to wake up and do it all over again. Even having Jessamyn back had not filled the void left in her soul by Jack. But then, in one instant, all of that had changed. Her heart finally felt like it wasn't going to fail her at any moment.

Jack noticed her staring at him, and he slowly came toward her. "You all right?" he asked tenderly, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Rose leaned against his body and did nothing but smile up at him. Of course she was all right. She was perfect in every single way! Nothing, absolutely nothing, was going to get her down. She wanted to stay like this for the rest of her life.

"C'mon," he said softly. "Let's go get that breakfast."

Rose let him lead her out of the room, but before they could get very far, she stopped him. They had passed by Jessamyn's room, reminding her of something she wanted to show him.

"Come in here a minute," she said, taking his hand and dragging him back to the room. Out of force of habit, she knocked on the door and then pushed it open. Jessamyn was indeed gone, but her bed was unmade and clothes were thrown around the room. Rose sighed and picked up a few things, throwing them on the bed before crossing the room to the closet. Jack watched her with curiosity, and was confused when she came out holding a big cardboard box.

"What's that?" he asked, as she set it down on the floor with a huff.

Rose ignored his question, but beaconed him over with her index finger. She sat down next to the box and invited him to do the same. When they were situated, she pulled open the folded flaps and then turned to smile at him.

"I went back to Chippewa Falls about five or six years ago," she explained. "And while I was there, I met this woman--Mrs. Bradley, I think was her name--and she gave me this box of your things that she had lying around. I suppose you left it after the fire, or something…" Her voice trailed off.

Jack hardly heard the last part, though, as he stared in shock at the box. He hadn't had the courage to go back to his hometown, and had often wondered what had happened to his things. It was a still a sore spot in his life that he hadn't wanted to revisit, knowing that it would be hard for him to take.

"It's not anything really exciting," Rose was saying, her voice finally breaking through to him.

Oh, but it is! he wanted to shout to her. This meant so much to him that he couldn't explain it. His mouth had, at some point, gone dry, though, and he couldn't speak. In slow motion, he reached in and pulled out a handful of things. His first sketchbook was among them, and he looked at it in disbelief. One of the few things that had survived the fire, he had kept it safe with him those last few months in town and, when he left, had left it in the care of Mrs. Bradley, thinking he would be back within a few weeks. After he didn't return, he was sure she had thrown it out.

Finding his voice, he finally managed to get out, "I can't believe she kept all this."

Rose had noticed the change in his mood, and knew it was better if she didn't say anything. Tenderly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder, watching as he continued to go through his things. She had looked over them so many times, they were all very familiar to her. But Jack looked over each one with awe, and regarded them as each little treasures. When he pulled out the shoe, she noticed tears well up in his eyes. Rose pulled away from him as he turned it over and over, looking at it as if it were the best thing in the world.

"What? What is it?" she asked, not able to keep silent any longer. All this excitement over a shoe?

Jack turned toward her, his hands shaking. "Watch," he whispered as he turned the shoe over and started feeling around the sole. Rose looked curiously as he finally found the spot he was looking for, and, to her shock, pulled back a tiny piece of the rubber. Her eyes widened when he reached inside and pulled out a ring.

Jack broke out into a smile and held it out for her to take, which she did with tender fingers. It was a silver band with three turquoise stones paced on it, two very small diamonds separating the other stones.

"What is this?" Rose asked in amazement, looking back at him.

"It was my mother's," he answered, taking it back from her. "It was the most expensive thing she ever owned. Dad got it for her as an engagement present because he couldn't afford a real diamond ring--the diamonds are fake--with gold and everything. She never had wedding band, either. Just this. God, I thought I'd lost this on my way to California. I guess I just never took it out of here. It was one of the only things of hers that made it through the fire." He stared at the ring, his mind flashing back to a warm night in June when his mother had explained to him where it came from and how special it was to her. She'd loved that ring, and it hadn't been off her finger until she died. Jack finally blinked himself back into reality, and then looked back at Rose.

"Here," he whispered, handing it back to her. "I want you to have it."

"Jack, I--no. It's yours," she tried to protest, pushing his hand away from her. She didn't want to take it away from him.

Jack grabbed her left hand, though, and held the ring above her ring finger. "Please," he begged, "take it."

"Jack--"

"Consider it your engagement ring," he offered, cutting her off.

Rose jerked her head up and looked at him in shock. "What?" she asked, her voice cracking. Her engagement ring?

Jack broke into a bright smile. "I want you to marry me, Rose. I want you to be my wife. I want us to be together for the rest of our lives. I want to spend every single day waking up next to you, and I want to spend them all trying to make you as happy as you can be. Will you marry me and give me that chance?" he asked, looking into her eyes, which had widened into two big circles.

Rose was completely taken off guard. She had not seen this coming. All she could do was nod. What else was she suppose to say? A yes might be good, Rose, she thought to herself, and then managed to say it. "Yes, Jack. Of course I will," she whispered. Her hands trembled and her heart beat loudly as he slipped the ring onto her finger. It fit a little snugly, but as far as Rose was concerned, that was fine. She wouldn't lose it this way.

Before she had time to react, Jack's lips were on hers and he was kissing her. Tears formed in her eyes, and she had started crying happily by the time he broke away. "How long have you been rehearsing that one?" she teased, trying to wipe her tears away, but failing.

Jack grinned at her. "Since this morning. I knew I was going to do it. I just didn't think it would be in an hour," he answered before kissing her again, softly and quickly this time. "Now, c'mon," he said, standing up. "I really need something to eat." As if to emphasize the point, his stomach growled loudly.

Rose laughed, still trying to get her tears under control. She held out her hands for Jack to help her up, and he did. Once standing, she re-tied her bathrobe and then smiled. "All right," she agreed, her voice shaky. "Let's go."

*****

Jessamyn didn't leave Charlie's apartment until half past two. She would have slept longer, but his roommate had returned at about noon--after spending the night somewhere else, no less--and had freaked out about having, as he had put it, "The strange mess on our couch!" So, she had gotten up, and while eating something, had talked about it with Charlie again. She agreed that to go home was best, and so she did.

With trembling hands, she placed her key in the lock and turned it until she heard the faint click. Pushing open the door, she stepped inside and cautiously looked around. She was met with no one, however, and this kind of confused her. "Hello?" she called once, and then, met with no response, louder a second time.

It was then that a reply came from the living room. Jessamyn closed the door and threw her purse and keys on the hall table before going in there. Her parents were sitting together on one of the couches, wrapped up in a little cocoon of affection. She was grateful, however, to find them both clothed, with a relatively good distance between them, despite their apparent obsession with each other.

Rose smiled when she came in, but she didn't move. "Hello, darling," she said.

She looked happier than Jessamyn had ever seen her, and so she gave her mother a strange look. Then she glanced at Jack--her father. He grinned at her, but she just stared at him. He stared back, his smile fading, until she finally broke the little game by looking away. This was just too weird. "I'm going to go lie down," she mumbled, and started toward her room.

"Wait!" Rose called, finally moving away from Jack and sitting up completely.

Jessamyn stopped and turned around, but she didn't say anything.

"We want to talk to you," Rose said pointedly.

Inside, Jessamyn's heart began to beat wildly. This is it. They were going to tell her it was all a lie and that something else totally different had happened. Oh, what a fool she had been to believe her mother! There was no way they could have been on the Titanic.

Rose looked at Jack for reassurance, and he squeezed her hand in his own. She felt very heavily the weight of the ring press against her skin, and she couldn't help but smile a little bit. But no, Rose, she immediately told herself. Focus. She took a deep breath and looked her daughter straight in the eye.

"Jess," she began shakily. "I know you must be really confused."

"You think?" Jessamyn squeaked. She hadn't meant to be rude, but she had spoken faster than her brain could think.

Rose was a little hurt, but she didn't let it get her down. Instead, she just continued with what she was going to say. "We're both still a little in shock," she said, gesturing to Jack and herself. Oh, she groaned. This wasn't helping. Jessamyn had a look on her face that said, So what? Rose sighed again and closed her eyes. Just a little help, she prayed. Why was this so hard?

"Jessamyn, everything your mother told you about us is true," Jack broke in, coming to Rose's rescue. "We were on the Titanic, she was engaged…everything happened."

Jessamyn gave him a look like she still didn't believe him, and folded her arms across her chest. She still hadn't sat down; it made her feel too vulnerable. She felt stronger standing. She listened as Jack told her the rest of the story, starting with when they had been on the board. He explained how he had woken up under the water, how he had been rescued, but then was in a coma. Jessamyn began to loosen up a bit when she heard this. Maybe they were telling the truth after all.

"I woke up weeks later, and immediately started looking for your mother, Jess. But she had changed her name and I didn't think to look for a Rose Dawson on the list. Likewise, everyone I talked to was telling me that Rose DeWitt Bukater was dead. What else was I supposed to believe? So I packed up, moved to my apartment across town…and you know the rest."

This struck a nerve in Jessamyn, and she sat down in the nearby chair in a daze. They hadn't lied to her? "But Mom never--"

Rose started smiling sadly. "I would have, Jess, but I watched him slip underneath the water. I assumed he was dead…what else could I think?"

Jessamyn couldn't think of anything else to say except, "Don't assume; it makes an ass out of you and me."

Both Rose and Jack started laughing, much to Jessamyn's shock. She looked up at them and couldn't help but smile a little bit. These were her parents. Slowly, she got up and walked over to them. "I thought you had lied to me," she confessed.

Rose moved aside, making a spot for Jessamyn to sit down. Her daughter did so, and then Rose wrapped her arm around her shoulder. "We'd never lie to you," she promised, kissing the top of her head.

Jessamyn smiled at her mother, and then turned her head toward Jack, who was grinning at her. "I can't believe you're my father," she said, point-blank. She meant it, too. They had spent days together on a train, and never knew. It was weird, but kind of amazing.

He started laughing again, and shook his head. "Me neither, kid," he said happily.

And that's when it got awkward. While Jessamyn sat there wondering what to do next, Rose looked over her head and secretively wiggled her left hand at Jack. He got the message and gave her a look that said, I don't care. She cleared her throat, which got Jessamyn's attention.

"What?" she asked, looking at her mother again.

Rose broke into a big smile. "Your father and I are…going to get married," she said excitedly, unable to dim her enthusiasm.

Jessamyn did the opposite of what her parents expected her to; she started laughing. "Well, it's about time! I couldn't be a bastard for the rest of my life."

Rose's eyebrows shot up. She didn't know whether to giggle or to slap her daughter across the face. But from the other side of Jessamyn came loud, welcoming laughter and Rose couldn't help but smile again.

Calming down, Jessamyn sighed happily, and then jumped back up from her place on the couch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've promised I'd call Charlie when I found out what happened." With that, she skipped away, humming to herself.

Jack turned to Rose with raised eyebrows. "Are she and Charlie…" He trailed off. He'd seen them down at the pier, but he'd thought that had just been a sort of friend-dinner thing.

Rose nodded, scooting closer to Jack once again, moving into his arms. "Yes. I guess," she said, shrugging. She hadn't heard much of the famous Mr. Beaumont for a week or so, but now it looked as if Jessamyn's mind was back to where it had been. "That went well," she commented, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Jack said, faintly, before kissing the top of her head. "It’s good to have you back, Rosie."

Rose smiled softly, closing her eyes. "You, too," she whispered, kissing his arm.

Chapter Seventeen
Stories