Panic crept up in Jack's throat, forming a lump. He forced himself to swallow the lump and moved his hand to Rose's cheek. Her skin burned against his. Jack reached down to feel her hand. It was as cold as ice. Another violent shiver rattled her body and her eyes fluttered open.

"Jack," she croaked. "I'm so…cold," she told him between shivers. The way her words came out reminded him of the way they spoke while waiting for the lifeboats to return.

"I know sweetheart," Jack whispered. He threw the blanket off of himself and started to climb from the bed. He no longer noticed the chill in the room, even as his bare feet hit the floor. Before pulling on shoes or clothes, Jack carefully tucked the blanket around Rose's body, trying to keep her as warm as possible.

"Where…are you going?" Rose asked him.

Jack didn't reply right away. He was too busy trying to keep his overworked mind together. Switching on the light, he saw the clock read just past five. Where will I find a doctor at this hour? He'd only been to Minneapolis once before, but that was at least ten years ago. Do you really wanna leave her and go on a wild goose chase? Then he recalled that Mrs. O'Keefe, the widow who ran the bed and breakfast, had told him last night that she rises at five thirty every morning to begin morning chores and breakfast.

"Jack," Rose moaned weakly. Jack came back out of his thoughts and walked over to her. He flinched when he grabbed her cold hand.

"I'm not going anywhere right now sweetheart." He stroked her curls lightly. "I'm waiting for Mrs. O'Keefe to wake up, so I can ask her where the closest doctor is." He leaned forward and kissed her forehead. "Are you in any pain, aside from…" he glanced down for a second before continuing, "…your bruising?"

"My throat burns," she said. Jack wasn't surprised because her voice was hoarse and low. "My legs hurt too." Jack laid his free on her legs and gently rubbed them, hoping he could ease the pain a little. Rose said nothing else and drifted back to sleep. Jack remained by her side until it was almost six. By that time, she was sound asleep so he quickly got dressed and rushed to find Mrs. O'Keefe, hoping she could direct him to a doctor.

…

The doctor closed the door softly behind him. Jack looked at Rose and his heart raced. She was still sound asleep for which Jack was grateful. He knew more than ever she needed her rest. He removed his jacket and stood by the window, looking out at the sunny day.

He listened intently to Rose's soft breathing. Fear griped his heart, battling the hope that stood there. The hope had weakened slightly when the doctor had told him Rose had influenza. He'd seen people die from it during his more nomadic days, before he met Rose. You've also seen people recover from it, a voice reminded him.

"Jack," he heard Rose moan. He turned to see her eyes just barely open.

"Hey sweetheart," he said gently as he walked to her bedside.

"What's wrong with me?" Just talking was painful for her.

Jack didn't want to tell her, but he knew he couldn't keep it from her. "The doctor said you more than likely have influenza," he said in a flat tone. "You need to stay in bed and drink plenty of fluids. We'll just stay here for as long as it takes for you to get better."

Rose pulled the blanket up to her chin. "I don't think I've ever been this cold," she whispered. "Except for the night the Titanic sank." Rose rolled onto her side and groaned.

"What is it?" Jack asked.

"My neck hurts," Rose said. Jack placed his hand on her neck and began to gently massage it. Within ten minutes Rose was snoring softly.

…

The next day Rose was no better. Her fever had gone up during the night and hadn't come down since. She shivered so hard, despite the heavy wool blanket and the small fireplace in the room that the bed rattled. Jack didn't sleep. His mind and his heart were too heavy.

Any second now he was sure that the military police would burst through the door and arrest him. Though the idea of being thrown into prison didn't scare him, the mere thought of leaving Rose's side –when she needed him more than ever – terrified him. He tried to keep a rational head, remembering that no one there knew them, or even their real names. As hard as he tried though, he knew he wouldn't feel safe until Rose was better and they were gone.

Jack paced the room, ignoring the cold floor on his stocking feet. His boots were too loud, and he wanted to avoid waking Rose at all costs. He pulled back the curtain, which he kept closed despite the bright sunshine in order to block out the cold air. The streets below were bustling with activity. Jack just watched the people, wondering who they were and where they came from. He missed the days when he and Rose would just sit and watch the people, occasionally making up wild stories about the lives of passersby.

A violent cough grabbed Jack's attention. He rushed to Rose's side and helped her sit up to ease it. Her body shook as she coughed and tried to catch her breath. Jack tried to sooth her by patting her back gently, but the cough became so violent that Rose ended up vomiting down the front of the her nightgown and onto Jack's arm that held her waist.

"Oh God Jack," Rose wheezed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it Rose. I've seen worse on the battlefield." He stood. "Let's just get you washed up." Too weak to even think about arguing, Rose allowed Jack to ginger pull off her nightgown. "Here," Jack said, "wrap yourself up in the blanket so I can run the bath."

Rose did as Jack told her, shivering all the while. She hadn't had the bandages around her ribs since they arrived and she regretted it now. Each shiver rattled her battered and bruised body. Through her half closed eyes, she saw steam rising from the bathtub. She felt relieved that her tender body would soon be soothed by the warm water.

Jack returned as the tub filled. Without asking, he began to cradle her in his arms. Rose cried out in pain the moment she felt pressure on her ribs.

"I'm sorry Rosebud!" Rose fought back the tears and shook her head.

"It's alright Jack." She took a deep breath, ignoring the ache that came with it. "Just, help me walk to the tub." Inches at a time, Jack and Rose made their way to the bathroom. He helped her settle in and rolled up a towel for her to rest her head against. "Thank you," Rose said quietly.

Rose laid there motionless with her eyes closed. She knew that eventually she would have to actually get washed and out, but for now, she simply enjoyed the heat of water. Rose didn't even know if she had the strength to wash herself. Jack was beside her, she knew that much without opening her eyes. She could feel his presence. When she bathed last, Jack had helped her out of the tub and into her nightgown. Rose knew he had seen her bruising then and that he could see it now. There was no sense in trying to conceal it now.

Jack's hand dipped into the water, checking the temperature. "It feels wonderful," Rose said, her eyes still closed.

Jack smiled. "Just checkin'."

"Will you help me wash?" Rose asked.

Jack grabbed a washcloth from the shelf above the toilet. "Of course."

Jack began by washing her arms and her chest, scrubbing gently. His eyes never left her face as he watched for any sign of discomfort from her. He washed carefully around her ribs, letting his eyes wander to the bruising so as to avoid hurting her. You sick son of a bitch. I swear, if Rose hadn't already… Jack stopped his thoughts. There was no point to them right now. Cal was dead, Rose was here and she needed to heal. You can't let your hatred of Cal get the best of you right now.

After Jack washed her stomach, he let his hands drift lower in the water. The moment he touched Rose's thigh she grabbed his wrist. Jack looked at her and swallowed the lump in his throat. Her eyes were wild with fear.

"Rose honey, it's okay," he assured her. "I won't if you don't want me to."

Rose tried to even her breathing and swallowed hard. "I…I want to get out now please," she said in a shaky voice.

Jack nodded. "Okay." He stood and wrung out the cloth in the sink. "Let me get you a towel."

Rose allowed Jack to wrap her in the towel and help her back to the bed. After she was sitting, he picked the nightgown up off of the floor and carried it to the tub. He would wash away the sick after Rose was asleep. He rushed back to her side and noticed that she had begun to shiver once more.

"I'm afraid that was the only clean nightgown I grabbed," Jack said. He pulled out an old shirt of his. It was well worn with a middle button missing.

"I'll just wear that," Rose said. "It'll be warm enough." As if on cue, a shiver ripped through her. Jack helped her dry as quickly as he could and grabbed the shirt. "No wait Jack," she said. "I need those bandages back around my ribs," she said pointing to where she had left them in a chair.

Within ten minutes, Rose was tucked back into bed. "Good thing you missed the bed when you threw up," Jack said with a soft smile. Rose smiled weakly in return and closed her eyes. Jack yawned.

"Lay with me Jack," Rose said. Together they slept from that afternoon until Rose's cries awoke him in the middle of the night.

At sunrise, Jack sat by Rose's bedside in the hospital.