The Explorer's Apprentice

51:The Most Fun Game of Tag

I don't own these lovely folks...

Rose Dewitt Bukater

Rose stands behind Jack with her robe back on, her head resting on his shoulder as she watches him add the finishing touches. It’s beautiful, like a camera photo, so detailed and magnificent and drawn with such care. She’s never met one able to bring a picture to life as well as Jack. It’s completely stunning.

She watches him sign his name at the bottom corner, and he blows the excess dust off of the page. It is finished. And it’s even greater than she ever could have imagined.

Jack closes the sketchbook at hands it to her, grinning.

Rose just can’t seem to get enough of him. His very presence is making pure thrill coarse through her veins like a drug. “Thank you,” she says softly, then she presses her mouth to his. Kissing Jack is so glorious. She would do it for hours, days, if she really could. The taste never ceases to amaze her—its sweet and warm, like spring, and it always leaves her wanting more.  The feeling of falling that it brings her--falling, deeper and deeper in love--makes her skin tremble. But in a good way.

She’s so happy that she wants the entire world to know about her happiness. Every last person.

Perhaps this is what leads her to an ink pen and paper several minutes later, stooping down at her wooden desk and writing out a careful letter. Two years of her life consisted of terrible moments where she was kept alone in the dark, hungry for the light that she has now. Two horrible, lonely years.

But of course, these years needed to happen for her to get to where she is today, and for this she is entirely greatful. She supposes she has Cal to thank for that.

Darling, she writes, the sarcasm dripping from her pen like poison, now you can forever keep me locked up in your safe.

Jack walks over to her. “Whatcha doing?” His shirt is loose, and the sleeves are rolled up just past his elbows, exposing his muscular biceps.

She turns to him, her mouth pursed into a mysterious smirk. She places both the letter and her drawing into a black case and hands it to him carefully. ”Would you put this in the safe for me?”

“Mhmm,” he says gently, turning away.  Rose goes off to change, still inhaling the lovely scent of him that lingers in the air. 

…………………………………………………………………..

“It’s getting cold,” Jack says, blowing warm breath into his cupped hands as Rose emerges from her bathroom. She’s chosen her white dress, the one with the pink sash and light purple sweater. It’s always been the most favored thing in her extended wardrobe, and she can’t even remember where she got it from. She loves the way the silk feels against her skin—soft and gentle, like a dream, and the way it seems to accentuate all her curves in all the right places. It’s always made her feel pretty.

Jack stares at her, as if fully seeing her for the first time. “You look nice!” he says sincerely, and it makes her very skin tickle with pure delight.

“Miss. Rose?” There’s a sudden knock upon her bedroom door that makes Rose’s soul nearly jump out of her body. The knock is hard, and the voice is sickeningly male.

On impulse, Rose grabs Jack’s hand and they dash over to the rear exit of the room, her heart pounding with every step. She’s completely lost track of time, and upon glancing at the clock atop her dresser, is shocked to realize how late it’s gotten.  Of course, Rose thinks, the thought of her family making her stomach swirl. They’re due to come looking for me about now.