Rose bit her bottom lip indecisively as she backed away from her mother's bed. What am I doing here? She silently asked herself. It was too late to run back to the airfield now. She lost her chance to slip into obscurity the moment she burst through the front door. If she left now, if her mother survived, the servants would tell Ruth that Rose had been here. What would that accomplish? Nothing other than more unanswered questions.

Would her mother live? Would she die?

How callous of her to realize she was hoping it was the latter, hoping the confrontation she had been dreading would never come. Rose felt vaguely shamed by this admission, rubbing her hand along the back of her neck as she moved over to the window to stare unseeing at the deserted street. She was startled as her stomach let out a loud growl, reminding her not so gently the last time she had eaten was two days ago.

The overcast sky finally released the rain to fall in sheets on the deserted cobblestones. Everything around the yard gleamed, hiding the mystery of the influenza, making it appear the streets were deserted because of the weather. Rose absently released her braid, running her hands through the mass of red curls. One of these days she was just going to take the plunge and cut it all off, like those actresses in the moving pictures of late.

Ruth coughed and groaned in her sleep. Rose looked up sharply, but Ruth was still asleep.

There was a slight knock on the door and it opened, revealing a round woman dressed in a maid's uniform.

"Good evening, miss." She said with a slight Irish brogue. "Thought you might like a spot of tea."

"Thank you." Rose said as she waved the maid to place the tray on the table by the window.

"If you don't mind me saying so miss, you look a fright. Might you allow me to draw you a bath and find some fresh clothes?"

Rose nodded absently. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name."

The woman beamed, transforming her pleasant face to an oddly beautiful one. "Well, me name is Kathy, miss. I've been with Miz Ruth here for about five years."

Rose smiled briefly.

"You're mother is going to be so happy you've come home. She missed you something fierce, she did."

The smile faded from Rose's lips. "Please run the bath for me, Kathy, I shall be forever grateful." Rose said, ignoring the maid's last statement. The maid curtsied once, before taking her leave. How would her mother react if she awoke to find Rose standing before her? Ruth would not be pleased, Rose smiled bitterly. It was beyond her control now, as it was fate's decision if the reunion would take place. So much time had passed since the last time she had seen her mother, when Ruth demanded she get into the lifeboat. "After all that happened Mother, have you changed?" Rose asked sleeping mother.

When the bath was over and the hunger pains in her belly abated Rose slumped tiredly into the chair by the window. How odd it felt to be wearing a skirt again after so long. It was restraining, as she was used to the freedom of trousers. But if her mother were to awaken, she thought it might be wise to dress appropriately. The maid had started a fire in the hearth while Rose was bathing, to take the edge off the chill from the open windows. Before she realized it, she was asleep, the last few days finally taking a toll on her.

A slight knock at the door awakened her sometime in the late afternoon. She awoke slowly, her mind fuzzy, not remembering if she dreamt.

"Ah, Miss DeWitt Bukater." It was the doctor from this morning, back from his other patients.

"My name is Dawson, Doctor. Rose Dawson." Rose said as she stood from the chair, rubbing her sleep filled eyes.

"My mistake, I'm sorry." The doctor smiled apologetically, tired. "I didn't see a ring."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "I'm sorry, Dr.-" Rose raised herself up to her full height, a haughty expression on her face. Invisible corset strings tightened her ribcage, trying to mold her once more into Rose DeWitt Bukater, making it difficult to breathe. Society hasn't changed, Rose. She silently thought to herself. You have.

"Forgive me, my name is Doctor Arnaud Blanchard. How is your mother, Mrs. Dawson?"

"I - I fell asleep. I don't know if she has awakened or not."

Doctor Blanchard moved quickly over to her mother's bedside, placing his hand on Ruth's forehead. "Her temperature is down a bit. That is a good sign." He removed a stethoscope from his black bag and listened to her mother's lungs. "She seems to be doing much better than she was morning. There is hope for her yet."

Rose stood, smoothing her skirt self-consciously. How inconsiderate of her to fall asleep when she should have been watching over her mother. "I'm sorry for not, for not watching her the way I was supposed to."

"No harm done, Mrs. Dawson. I haven't slept in what seems like a week. This morning, you looked a lot worse for wear than I did. Your body needed the sleep to keep up your strength. Although, I must admit you did give me quite a scare when you burst into the room this morning. I was under the impression that Mrs. Bukater's daughter died a long time ago."

Rose blinked furiously. "Well, sir, it seems you were misinformed. Here I am." She said stiffly.

"As you are." The doctor glanced over at the sleeping Ruth. "When she wakes, as I am now sure she will, keep your distance for a few days, Mrs. Dawson. Allow her strength to return. Remember your mother was deathly ill."

Rose tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. "How well exactly, do you know my family, Doctor Blanchard? When did you become the family doctor?"

"I am actually the Hockley family doctor, Mrs. Dawson. Caledon Hockley's family members are my patients. I have come to Philadelphia from Pittsburgh to look after them in this time of sickness and Mr. Hockley asked me to look in on Mrs. Bukater as a personal favor."

"So I supposed you ran to Cal to tell him his long lost fiancée has returned from the dead?" Rose asked, her face flushing with anger.

"It is not my place to tell Caledon Hockley anything of the sort. If your mother or you wish to tell the Hockley family at a later date, that is your decision. My only concern is for the well being of your mother and the Hockley family. I do not dawdle in gossip, it is none of my concern." His accent grew thicker, as he became incensed. It was an odd mix of French, with a hint of backwoods Cajun.

Rose recognized it from her days in New Orleans, this musical way the words threaded together in a lyrical tempo. For an all to brief moment, she was lost in the engaging world of the Vieux Carre, lost in the tempting world of decadence and elegance. She bowed her head, ashamed that once again her temper managed to get the best of her. She touched her fingers to her forehead in a calming gesture.

"I am sorry, Dr. Blanchard. This is all so very overwhelming for me. I never imagined that I would be here again, in this house with my mother. Then to find out that my mother is still in contact with Cal--, Mr. Hockley, I am sorry that I snapped at you."

"Mrs. Dawson, whatever took place between you, your mother and Caledon Hockley is none of my concern. You have no fear in feeling that I would betray whatever secrets you hold. Like I said earlier, my only concern is for your mother to get well."

"Am I dead?" A weak voice asked behind them. They both turned towards the bed startled to find Ruth struggling to sit up against her pillows. Doctor Blanchard rushed to her side, taking her pulse and asking her inane questions about how she felt.

Ruth looked around him, her blue eyes fastened upon her daughter's. "As I said before, am I dead?"

"No, ma'am," The doctor said gently, kneeling beside her bed. "You are going to be just fine."

"Then why is Rose here?"

The doctor looked up at Rose, who stood frozen, her face pale as her hands twitched against her blue skirt.

He rose slowly, picking up a pitcher of water sitting alongside the bed. He poured a small amount into a glass. "Please, Mrs. Bukater, . . . Drink some water." Ruth allowed him to place the glass to her lips, taking a few small sips before collapsing back against the pillows.

Rose opened her mouth and closed it several times, unable to come up with anything to say. Now that the moment she dreaded had arrived, Rose found she suddenly lost her courage to face her mother. Rose cleared her throat and found her voice to speak.

"I-I was concerned for your safety, Mother. I heard about the epidemic in Philadelphia and I decided to see for myself that you were well taken care of." Rose said, struggling to be heard over her loudly beating heart.

Dr. Blanchard sent her a look, that said: Tread carefully, I can not have your mother upset so soon after awakening. He approached Rose, gently taking her elbow. "Come, Mrs. Dawson, I think we should allow Ruth time to recover, before-"

"Dawson?" Ruth asked, agitation in her voice. "Not only did you survive Titanic and not let me know, but you married that-that boy?"

"No, Mother, I did not marry Jack. He was lost that night with so many other men who deserved to live. But I chose to start anew, with his name."

Dr. Blanchard tightened his grip on her elbow. "Mrs. Dawson, I really think we should be going. This type of excitement would only be detrimental to your mother's health."

"My health is not the concern here, Dr. Blanchard, not as much as what my daughter thought she would accomplish by returning from the dead after all this time." Ruth said, her voice fragile and shaking.

"I came here, Mother, because I was worried about you." Rose pulled her elbow out of Dr. Blanchard's grasp and slowly approached the bed. "I have no ulterior motive other than to see you return to good health."

"Rose, you always have an ulterior motive." Ruth said, her voice resigned. "That is who you are."

With that, Ruth settled back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Dr. Blanchard rushed to her side, relieved to find Ruth only sleeping.

"Come, Mrs. - Miss Dawson, shall we find a guest bedroom for you to sleep in? I think it might be best for you to come back in the morning." He said in a voice that seemed to Rose to come from great distance.

She allowed herself to be led away from the bedroom, as a gamut of perplexing emotions assailed her confused mind. Rose walked the doctor to the front door, silently shutting it behind him after he promised to return in the morning. She nodded absently as another maid she did not recognize asked her if she would be staying for the evening.

"Please prepare my room." She said softly, her mind miles away from the DeWitt Bukater home.

Rose settled in the library, also unchanged since her father's death. She brooded for hours, as she could not understand why she remained. In her lap she held a book plucked unceremoniously from the shelves, but only her hands played over the open pages, as she stared outside at the gathering gloom.

Si on me presse de dire pourquoi je l'aimais, je sens que cela ne se peut s'exprimer, qu'en respondant: "Parce que c'etait lui, parce que c'etait moi."

If I am pressed to say why I loved him, I feel it can be explained only by replying: "Because it was he; because it was me."

Would her mother understand if she asked what it was about Jack that opened her heart and searched her soul? If she quoted Montaigne, would Ruth understand what it felt like to be loved so purely? Could it be true what her mother said earlier? Did she always have an ulterior motive? Did she use Jack only as a means to escape a life she felt was worst than death? Or did she truly, unequivocally love him?

Rose sighed as the maid, Kathy, brought a tray into the room. She quietly told Rose to leave the tray when she was finished her meal; she would come along later to collect it.

How dare her mother make her search her soul like this? What was the purpose now?

"Miss," Kathy stood in the doorway again, visibly uncomfortable as she touched a hand to her temple. "Your mother is awake and she is asking for you to come to her."

Rose nodded as she stood to return the book to the shelves. Now the time that filled her with dread had arrived. Why had she returned? Was Rose honestly here to make amends with her mother? Or was she just trying to clear a guilty conscience for allowing her mother to believe she died when Titanic sank?

Is this how a condemned man must feel as he walks the final mile to certain death? Rose asked herself as she slowly climbed the wide stairs to the second floor. I must take charge of my emotions, she thought. I am no longer a child that my mother controls. I am an aviatrix, an accomplished actress. I must not let my mother see my fear.

The hallway seemed much too short as she soon found herself outside of her mother's closed door. She rapped twice, then without waiting for an answer, let herself in.

Ruth sat among the pillows, freshly groomed, but pale, awaiting her daughter.

"So, the prodigal daughter returns. Where have you been all this time, Rose?" Ruth asked without preamble as she waved Rose to a chair nearby. "Please do not answer that question. I only realize now that I do not care."

Ruth reached for the glass of water alongside her bed and sipped. When she returned the water to the bedside, she pulled the covers farther up her waist. "The doctor was correct in saying that having you here would be detrimental to my health. So I have decided you shall be allowed to stay here this night. In the morning, I wish for you to leave."

"Is that honestly what you wish, Mother?" Rose asked, her tone complacent.

"When Caledon learns you were here, as I see no way of him not finding out, I could lose my home." Ruth spoke calmly, although her eyes were flat and passionless.

"What are you saying?" Rose asked, her voice rising slightly.

"This is the DeWitt Bukater house in name only, Rose. It belongs to the Hockley family now. I am only allowed to stay here out of the good grace of Caledon."

Or out of guilt, Rose thought, biting her bottom lip until she could feel her pulse, to keep the words from tumbling out.

"You see, Rose, I truly am nothing more than a pauper. If I was to lose this house and the small stipend I am allowed monthly, I would be forced to find work, a prospect which, at my age I'm afraid, does not interest me. You may have decided years ago I did not matter to you any longer, that in fact you were strong enough to set off on your own to forge your own life away from society, but this is all I know. It has been my life for so long now that without it, I would die. You were not the only one to suffer with the sinking of Titanic. But that has always been your way, hasn't it?"

Ruth's eyes were filled with a curious deep longing. She sighed as she dropped her hands into her lap. "When did you become such a selfish person, Rose?" Her mother whispered.

Rose's eyes widened. "How dare you." She hissed. "How can you lie there, accusing me of being selfish? I wasn't the one who thought our only means to escape debt was to sell your daughter to the highest bidder. I did not travel three days straight to sit here and be insulted by you, Mother."

Ruth's pale blue eyes only held sadness as she stared at her daughter. "Once again, the earth has to revolve around you, Rose. How you feel, how it all affects you and your world. To be honest with you, I don't know what that boy ever saw in you. Yes, Rose, you are strikingly beautiful. Even more so now, with your skin bronzed by the sun and your face flushed with anger. But you would have eaten him alive, Rose. He would never have been able to make you happy. I don't suppose that even you knew what it would take to make Rose happy. Lord knows I tried for many years after your father died. You might have had a slight possibility at happiness with Caledon, if you had only given him a chance."

"What?" Rose asked, dumbstruck, amazed after all this time Ruth was still praising Cal as a wonderful match for her. "He struck me, Mother!" Rose spat out the words contemptuously as she stood from her chair, ignoring the fragile state of health her mother was in. "How could you have thought I would ever be happy with a monster who feels the only way to control a woman is with his fists!"

"Review your actions, that final week. What would you have done, if the roles were reversed?"

"I would not have tried to tame him by beating him into submission, Mother. As for Jack Dawson, you never knew him at all. What Jack did for me, freeing me from the human bondage you so artfully wrapped me in, I cannot even begin to explain to you tonight."

Rose weakly sat back down in the chair behind her, losing her strength for the fight. Ruth had struck an all-too-familiar chord from Rose's own guilty late-night musings. She closed her eyes, remembering all too briefly, his keen, probing eyes. She sighed as she looked away towards the darkened window. "Are you deliberately trying to drive me away?" She asked quietly.

Ruth smiled sadly, before coughing into a linen handkerchief. "I suppose I may be. I loved you. I hope you understand that. You have your faults, too many to list now. But I did love you. I honestly thought what I was doing was for the best."

"But," Rose began.

"But what? Would you have me come with you, wherever you might call home?" At the sight of Rose's blanched face, Ruth continued. "I didn't think that was what you had in mind. See even now, Rose, you wanted to come here and dictate our reunion on your terms. I can't have that. I refuse to allow it any longer."

Rose sighed and glanced at the ceiling. "What about you, Mother? What about the shortcomings you have lying so close to the surface. And you call me selfish. I can live without all this." She waved a hand towards to brocade walls and antique furniture. "I have lived without it. I've lived without you. Is this what it all comes down to? Punishment because I can live without society, and you can not?"

"Come now, Rose. Is this why you've traveled so far? To fight with me? I cannot change the past anymore than you can. Caledon is not faultless, he never was. I am not, nor ever was, ignorant of that fact. But I thought, I hoped, in time, you would have come to love him. I am sorry if I never truly knew you. But I suppose I never will. I cannot change who I was then, not now. Once again, I truly tried to do my best by you Rose, and I am sorry you feel I failed miserably. Tonight, I would just like to say I will continue to miss you every day for the remainder of my life."

"So you truly never wish to see me again?" Rose asked, her eyes filling with unbidden tears.

"Seeing you here today, is a memory I feel will sustain me much longer than the last one I have of you." Ruth smiled ruefully. "Seven years is a long time to mourn anyone. I hope you never have to suffer through the loss of a child. It is a pain so deep, and so harsh, I would not wish it on my worst enemy.

"I have finally come to a place in my life where I can no longer be concerned with any one other than myself. This wasn't my first bout of sickness, Rose. Nor will it be my last. I do not think I will be on this earth much longer. I do not tell you this so you feel sorry for me, I tell you this so maybe one day you will understand. I shan't ever mourn you again. I can't, Rose." Ruth looked down at her hands, unable to meet her daughter's eyes.

"Do not leave word where you are in the world as I do not wish to know. Although Caledon is married with children, you are still an unnatural obsession to him. I cannot reveal your location if I honestly do not know."

Rose nodded as she slowly stood. She turned to leave, but looked back her mother one last time. "May I approach you, Mother?" She asked, her voice small and child-like.

Ruth looked up in surprised, but nodded her head slowly. Rose sat down alongside her mother and gathered her in her arms. "I have missed you. There has been many times through the years where I thought I would return home. But I didn't, and that is a cross I will have to bear for the remainder of my days, Mother."

Ruth hugged her daughter tightly to her one final time. "I wish you happiness, Rose. I truly hope in my heart one day you will be loved and will love in return. But the hour grows late and I am so very tired. It has been a long and emotionally trying day. Shall we call a truce, you and I? I have had a long time to grieve. Now it shall be your turn to mourn what might have been."