The Stranger I Loved

Alone

How he spoke. Across Rose's whole-body, goose bumps appeared across her flesh beneath the heavy, woollen period clothes. Butterflies took flight within her stomach, fluttering as though they had contained for over a decade and now, they had their freedom – finally.

Finally.

His lips formed her name expressively, and Rose opened her mouth for a word that she could not produce. She told herself that she needed to move, meet him halfway, but her feet remained glued to the spot where she stood. Her eyes filled with tears that just wouldn't shed. Her heart hammered. Dropped. Twisted. Breathing was painful, heavy and restricted.

Jack Dawson dropped his coat on the floor as he ran to the stage; his own vision temporarily interrupted. His feet flew up the small set of stairs towards Rose. He reached out to her, and she closed her eyes, melting as his arms should have embraced her--

''No.'' Whispering that one word stopped him dead within his tracks. ''I--It isn't true.''

''Yes.''

His voice was Jack's. That tender, little whisper which had wrapped itself about her silly for so long. How his beautiful caressing voice would soothe her. He had sent shivers down her spine many moons ago, by placing his lips against her ear and singing their song Come Josephine...

She felt him step closer, heard his breathing. Two hands, shaking, came to her waist and then she was falling into him, unable to stop herself. Falling into his body, into his arms and back into his heart. Now, she knew that this had to be real; she would never forget the smell of him. It was the same smell that had clouded her senses during that dance the night before. It was only then; a small tear found its way down her cheek. She clung to his shirt, breathing him in and holding onto his body as though her life depended on it.

Perhaps it did.

Anticipating him to have disappeared from within her embrace, she kept his shirt fisted within her shaky grasp.

He was real.

She dare not glimpse up.

Dare not speak.

Dare not move.

On stage, Rose had been unable to contain the emotion which she was kept locked away for a long time. It had flooded out beyond her own control and by the end, she was sure that a lid would have been put back upon the bottle and it would be kept inside for another unknown length of time.

Now, it threatened to spew out violently. Like never in the past.

"Jack." Her voice was hoarse, almost shrill. She could tell he was worried, concerned. Jack swallowed and grinned, his smile betrayed by his turbulent eyes. Those eyes. The blue of them had embodied her dreams for years now, haunting her like some bittersweet song. But now, here they were, in front of her again. ''Jack.'' She swallowed and rested her hand on his upper arm, searching his face for some easy answer.

There was none.

Ten years.

Ten. Lost. Lonely. Years.

Jack moved his hand to her hair. It fell down, cascading down her back as the pins popped out one by one, but that was unnoticed. Rose's eyes bore into him, staring as if she didn't believe that he was real. But they were soft, deep, the same. Her full lips trembled as he himself tried to find the words. There weren't any. How foolish could she be to think that words would ever be enough to suffice?

''Yes.''

''How--'' She breathed, still unable to find the words. Were there any words? ''How are-is this? How are you here?''