Summary
Rose Tyler dreamed of designing clothes. Her natural talent awarded her the chance to study fashion with some of the biggest names in the industry in New York City. She just had to get there first. On her troubled flight from London to NYC, she bonds with the man sitting next to her, who just so happens to be a famous actor. After a rocky start, will Rose achieve her dreams? And what will happen between Rose and her knight in leather armor?
Notes
This story came to me a few months ago when I was on a flight with someone who looked a lot like Christopher Eccleston (at least from four rows back and across the aisle). I also wanted to prove to myself that I could write something under 10,000 words. Kudos to all of you who can write drabbles; I just don't think my muse works that way.
Story
Rose Tyler wanted to design clothes. She had known this since she was a small child, paying attention to the wardrobes on her mum's favorite television soaps more than the cheesy plots. As soon as she was old enough to get a job, she worked as a shop girl at Henriks Department Store. Being the daughter of a single widowed mum and growing up on a council estate, Rose knew she'd have to work hard to pull herself out of the estate and work in the fashion industry. Her time at Henriks made her realize that she wanted to design clothing that regular hard-working people, like her, could afford that looked expensive, but without the high price tag. She knew she'd never get rich making clothes for the working class, but that didn't bother her. Everyone deserved to look their best, no matter where they came from and what their budgets could afford.
Rose worked hard and studied harder. She got her A-levels and enrolled in a fashion-design and merchandising program at University College London. Her eye for design and talent for selecting inexpensive but versatile fabrics quickly earned her the attention and respect of the faculty of the department. Her professors, particularly the department chair, took notice of her talent and submitted Rose's name and portfolio for a competitive and lucrative internship at one of the most famous fashion houses in New York City. Rose was beside herself when she was told she had been selected for the program and offered a scholarship to live and work in New York City for two years under some of the biggest names in the fashion industry.
Now, here she was running through the airport in London, hoping she wasn't about to miss her international flight to New York City and thus her dream to become a clothing designer. Rose had planned everything leading up to this moment. What she hadn't planned for was the train delay in central London, the traffic on the M4 when she gave up on the train and hailed a cab instead, and the delay getting screened through security behind a famous celebrity who was giving out autographs to anyone and everyone who asked.
She'd recognized the 38 year old Manchester-born actor from theater, television and film. It wasn't as if Rose Tyler had lived under a rock, after all. Christopher Everstone was frequently featured in the redtops her mum often bought while waiting in line at the grocers. She only wished he'd hurry along and the security personnel could get back to work.
As she ran, Rose heard the final boarding call for her flight to New York City. She only had five more gates to go as she struggled to convince her legs to move faster through the crowds meandering the terminal. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rose caught sight of the gate just as the airline attendant was preparing to shut the door to the air bridge. Rose approached the door quickly, but just as she reached the door, a tall, lean man with broad shoulders cut her off, nearly causing Rose to collide with his back. Caught off balance by the sudden change in motion and her carryon luggage, Rose fell backwards, landing with an "oof" on the thinly carpeted terminal floor. She didn't notice the leather-clad man glancing back to see her sprawled on the floor and moving to offer his assistant as the gate attendant caught his attention instead.
"Hello, Mr. Everstone," remarked the overly cheery gate attendant. "We were holding the flight just for you. If you don't mind, could I get your autograph? My husband is a big fan of yours." Sigh… Mr. Everlate was back and it appeared he would be on the same flight as Rose.
Rose got to her feet and followed behind her fellow late-arriving passenger who had just signed the gate attendant's scrap of paper that she was now clutching to her chest while watching him proceed down the air bridge to his waiting flight. Following the attendant's gaze, Rose rolled her eyes when she realized the attendant was looking at Mr. Everdelay's bum. (Even Rose tried not to admit that it was a very attractive bum). The attendant's demeanor changed suddenly when she spotted the bedraggled Rose holding her ticket out for the attendant to take.
Rose proceeded down the air bridge to her waiting flight, only to turn the corner and once again nearly crash into the back of the same famous passenger who had been stopped by a pair of airline employees also hoping for an autograph. Rose pushed around this newest delay and headed for the plane. As she walked down the aisles in search of an available seat, Rose was beginning to regret not purchasing a seat assignment in advance. She noted a vacant seat in first class as she headed to coach.
Good, she thought to herself. Mr. Everautograph can sit with the other rich and famous and I can find a spot on the other end of the plane for estate girls like me. As Rose crossed the threshold between the haves and have-nots, the air was stifling and a cacophony of noises hit her ears – loud conversations, babies fussing, children kicking the seats in front of them or whining for a snack or bathroom break. Rose walked quickly to the back of the plane where one lone row with two seats were still available. At least I'm near the loo, she thought as she stowed one bag in the overhead bin and her satchel under the seat in front of her. The seats where right in front of a bulkhead, so she knew she wouldn't be able to recline the seat. But, as long as no one else showed up, she could hopefully stretch out across the two seats and attempt to rest. Rose picked the seat by the window, hoping to avoid getting bumped by passengers going to and from the loo that was behind the wall at her back.
Rose settled into her seat, pulling out her ipod and ear buds and closing her eyes in an attempt to relax after her harrowing run through Heathrow. Rose had been on a plane only once before in her life when she and her mum had taken a trip to Scotland for a distant relative's wedding, but this would be her first international plane trip, and her first trip over an ocean. The frantic race through the airport hadn't helped her preexisting nerves about traveling on a plane for many hours over a large body of water to an unfamiliar country that was far away from her mum and friends.
Rose was just starting to relax when she felt a warm body brush against her as it slid into the seat next to her. Rose opened one eye, expecting to see another passenger who had probably been delayed by Mr. Evertardy. Instead, her eyes were met with his crystal blue ones and he smiled small but politely at Rose.
Shit, Rose exclaimed in her head. Mr. Everfamous is sitting next to me. Did he not see his designated spot in first class? Under other circumstances, Rose might have been star struck by the actor's close proximity, but considering he was nearly the cause of her dreams coming to a quick and anticlimactic end, Rose was anything but star struck. And now she was stuck in a small, cramped space for hours with Mr. Evergit taking up her napping space.
Oh well… could be worse, Rose reminded herself. On her flight to Scotland, Rose had been seated by a man with a headache-inducing odor – something between rancid haggis and stale cigar smoke. Mr. Everaftershave was pleasant smelling, thankfully. She hoped it would stay that way for the next eight hours.
A few moments later, Rose heard the deep voice of Mr. Evergorgeous and opened her eyes to see him chatting with the flight attendant. Rose muted her ipod to listen in. She assumed it was yet another autograph seeker, but just in case the attendant had something important that might impact Rose, she ignored her inner voice telling her that eavesdropping was rude and listened in.
"Appreciate the offer, me, but I didn't pay for first class and I don't really need any sort of special treatment. I'd rather just be treated like everyone else and sit in the seat I paid for."
"Are you sure I can't convince you to take the vacant seat? You'll be much more comfortable in first class."
"Thank you, but no," Christopher replied. "If you're going to offer the seat to anyone, please offer it to this lovely young woman who has the unfortunate luck to be stuck next to me after I nearly caused her to miss her flight." Christopher turned to wink at Rose, who removed her earbuds in order to acknowledge the conversation.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Everstone," responded the attendant. "I only have permission to offer the seat to you. I cannot offer it to Miss…" she paused and reviewed the small clipboard in her hand "…Tyler. She must remain in her seat in coach."
"Then I guess that makes two of us," Christopher replied, turning back to Rose and nodding to her quickly. Rose couldn't help the small smile she gave him in return before averting her gaze to her ipod that was clutched in her hand. Rose was pleasantly surprised by the way Mr. Everequal had responded to the special treatment he was offered, and even more surprised that he had wanted Rose to take the first class seat. Maybe her harsh first impressions of Mr. Everkind were a bit premature.
Rose closed her eyes again, only opening them to pay close attention to the instructions for "in the event of a water rescue". Once the captain announced that they had reached cruising altitude and the flight attendant announced the inflight entertainment was now available on the screens in front of them, Rose swapped her earbuds from her ipod to the armrest port and pressed the power button on the screen on the back of the seat in front of her. The video and audio both crackled ominously. Rose tried the other channels, but nothing seemed to work. She returned the earbuds to her ipod and started her music again, but a quick check of her device revealed a low battery that would probably only offer her another hour of entertainment before it too would be unavailable to her. She sighed heavily and then glanced around at the seats near her.
All the other passengers seemed to be already engrossed in their own in-flight entertainment, or snoring lightly. Everyone except her immediate neighbor, who Rose noticed was fiddling with what appeared to be broken headphones. His lips were moving in a way that she imagined involved muttered curses of frustration. He continued to fidget with them, attempting to strip the wires and splice them together with whatever tools he had in his pockets (was that a screwdriver?) until he finally gave up and reached for the attendant call button.
A different flight attendant than before slowly approached their row. "Yes?" she asked.
"It appears that my headphones are broken. Can I get a spare pair?" Christopher asked.
"My apologies, Mr. Everstone, but I just sold the last pair of headphones to another passenger," she explained, gesturing to another passenger a few rows up before continuing on into what was most likely a galley or attendant-only space beyond the loo.
Rose took pity on Christopher and decided to offer an olive branch – her earbuds. "You can borrow mine," Rose offered. "My screen's broken anyway, so they won't do me much good. And my ipod's about to die. Someone might as well be entertained on this flight."
Christopher stared at Rose for a moment; he appeared to be considering his options, before taking the proffered earbuds and offering his thanks. He plugged in the headphones and began to browse through the available movies. He settled on a period drama about Elizabeth I.
I love the costumes in this one, Rose thought to herself. At least, she thought she had only thought those words, but as soon as she had uttered them, she realized she had said them out loud. Christopher turned to look at her and smiled. He removed one of the earbuds from his ear and held it out to Rose.
"Care to share, Miss Tyler?" Christopher offered. Rose glanced between the offered earbud and Christopher's face, trying to gauge whether this was a serious offer or a tease. Deciding that the offer was genuine, Rose took the earbud and put it in her ear and echoing her thanks just has he had done moments before. Christopher held out his hand then and officially introduced himself, "I'm Christopher, by the way. What's your name?"
"Rose," she replied, a bit gobsmacked that she was now on a first name basis with the celebrity next to her.
"Nice to meet you, Rose," Christopher replied before returning to his attention to the screen in front of him. Rose double-checked the earbud and then leaned to the right a bit to get a better view of the screen. Rose moved her arm up onto the armrest, not noticing how her fingers brushed Christopher's as he moved his arm over to accommodate hers. They settled into their seats to watch the movie, but a half an hour later, Rose's right side ached from being pressed into the armrest barrier between them. Rose rubbed her sore lower ribs and stretched a bit, causing both earbuds to dislodge from their wearer's ears.
"Sorry," Rose apologized as Christopher moved to put his earbud back in his ear. He noticed Rose's discomfort and wordlessly reached over to push the armrest up and out of the way. He smiled at her then, a kind and genuine smile that lit up his face, adding to his natural handsomeness and, dare she admit it, his sexiness. Rose ducked her head and blushed, quickly putting her own earbud back in and shifting into the space that was no longer obstructed by the offensive armrest.
Rose wasn't sure when she fell asleep, but the next thing she remembered was waking up with her head resting on Christopher's shoulder and her right arm tucked gently around his left arm, much like she used to cuddle her teddy bear when she was younger. The movie had obviously ended, seeing as how the earbuds were now draped over Christopher's thigh and he was holding a book in his hand. The only light source near their small section of the plane was from the reading light Christopher had turned on, casting an ethereal glow around him.
Rose straightened up and separated herself from Christopher, muttering apologies and wincing at the loss of his warmth. Christopher chuckled and brushed off her apologies. "Don't worry about it. Don't sleep much, me," he explained. "Especially not on planes. But you slept right through the movie and dinner."
"I can't believe I fell asleep. I thought for sure I'd be too nervous to sleep on the plane."
Christopher chuckled again and a warmth spread down her spine. "Don't like planes, Rose Tyler?" Rose couldn't help but smile at the way he said her name. She'd never heard anyone say her name so perfectly; it rolled naturally off his tongue like he was born to say her name.
"Not exactly. Only other flight I've ever been on only took me to Scotland," Rose explained. "I'm a bit nervous about flying over an ocean for multiple hours."
"Flown this route a few times, me," Christopher replied. "You get used to it."
Around that time, the flight attendant came by and offered Rose the dinner she had missed while she was asleep. Rose accepted and focused her attention on eating her meager dinner offering while Christopher went back to reading his book.
Once the dinner tray was removed, Rose pulled out her sketchbook and began working on her portfolio of clothing designs. She had been tasked with developing an entire fall line, anticipating the next season's trends before even the greatest fashion houses had revealed them. It was a baptism by fire, she'd been told by her mentor. Rose hoped her new bosses would like her designs. Otherwise, this two year internship may come to a screeching halt before it ever got going.
Eventually, Christopher got up to visit the loo, taking a small toiletries bag with him. When he returned, Rose noticed that the 5-o'clock shadow he'd been sporting was gone and he smelled like aftershave and spearmint toothpaste. He must have noticed Rose's sketches as he settled back into his seat because he asked her about them and Rose explained her studies at Uni and her prestigious internship in New York City. "Your designs are fantastic!" he exclaimed as he thumbed through the pages that Rose had offered him. "I'd definitely wear your clothes."
Rose blushed under his compliments, but replied, "No offense, but I'm not sure I'd want you to wear them." Christopher looked at her confused and before he could respond, Rose continued. "I don't think I want celebrities being photographed in my clothes. I want them to be affordable to the working class and as soon as a celebrity starts wearing a designer's clothes, prices skyrocket and then people like me can't afford to buy them. Even with my employee discount, I can't afford the clothes at Henriks until they reach the double mark-down clearance bins."
"So, what you're saying is, I could wear your clothes in the privacy of my own home, but if I'm going to be photographed at an event, I should wear someone else's?" Christopher clarified.
"Um…" Rose considered his alternative, "Yeah, I suppose that would be okay. But I won't ever have my own clothing line, so you don't need to worry about it."
Christopher chuckled and shook his head. "Guess we'll just have to see about that," he smiled and that warmth she felt earlier returned along with a swoop in her belly that she hadn't felt since that lead guitarist, Jimmy Stone, had flirted with her a few years ago. Luckily, Rose saw through Jimmy's bad-boy rocker façade and stayed away from the troublemaker he really was.
"So, I've told you about my passion for fashion," Rose smiled with her tongue touching her teeth. "What is the famous Christopher Everstone passionate about?"
"My dad has dementia," Christopher replied after a few moments to collect his thoughts. "I didn't really know anything about the disease until he was diagnosed. I sit with him and just have to pretend like I'm not his son because he doesn't know me from Adam. If I tell him he's my father, he denies it or gets angry. So, I'm passionate about my dad and about finding the cause and especially the cure for Alzheimer's. I'm actually in talks with a local clinic in Manchester about sponsoring a new center for research and support to families struggling with the disease."
"That's a wonderful cause to support and a lasting legacy to honor your father," Rose reached out and placed her hand on the top of Christopher's hand to offer comfort. "My father died when I was a baby. I can't imagine what it must be like to be sitting next to your father when he doesn't recognize you."
"Thanks," Christopher replied, turning his hand under hers giving it a reassuring squeeze. "He has his good days and his bad days. He was having a good day when I left two days ago. He remembered that he had children and told me how proud he was of my accomplishments."
Eventually, Rose went back to her sketching while they continued chatting. They shared a common background – growing up on council estates and the challenges that came with it. Christopher had siblings while Rose was an only child, although she spoke of her friend Mickey like he was a brother to her. They conversation flowed easily until a loud boom rocked the plane. Rose sat frozen in her seat until she realized that Christopher had put on an oxygen mask and was trying to help her with hers.
Rose turned to look at Christopher, a frightened expression in her amber eyes. Without having to ask, Christopher spoke soothingly, his voice muffled slightly by his own mask, "Not sure what's going on, me. But I'm sure the pilot will tell us as soon as he can. Just breathe normally through the mask." Rose watched his shoulders rise and fall and realized he was motioning her to breathe at his pace. Rose mimicked his slow breathing pattern and felt her body relax a bit. Christopher squeezed her hand that she hadn't realized he was holding until that moment. Rose squeezed his hand back and she saw a smile form from behind his mask.
"Thanks," Rose said, no longer needing his breathing pattern but shifting her hand to twine their fingers together. Rose glanced around the cabin, noticing anxiety on everyone's faces, with passengers helping each other with their masks. The flight attendants were also helping others as best as they could, despite the turbulence that was now shaking the plane.
The speaker overhead crackled and the voice of the captain filtered through the cabin. "Ladies and Gentleman, we've experienced a malfunction in the engines on the right side of the plane. A piece of debris may have punctured the cargo hold, triggering the deployment of the masks. I can assure you that the cabin pressure has not been compromised, but for your safety, please keep your masks on until instructed otherwise. Parents, please keep the masks on your children as well. I will let you know when we have reached an altitude where it is safe to remove your masks. We are in contact with Canadian and American air traffic control and will land as soon as it is safe to do so. Please remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened. Thank you."
Christopher squeezed her hand again and she squeezed back, reaching her free hand over to hold firmly to his forearm. Christopher put his free hand on top of the hand that held his arm and said, "Everything's going to be alright, yeah? The pilot can land without all the engines. Just might be a bit bumpy until then." Christopher's calm reassurance was the balm to her nerves. Rose leaned her head against his shoulder, closing her eyes and absorbing his calming presence.
A few minutes later, the captain's voiced filled the cabin again. "Ladies and gentleman, we have reached an altitude where you no longer need the oxygen masks. However, if you begin to feel light headed or are having difficulty breathing for any reason, please keep the mask on. Oxygen will continue to flow through the masks at a higher concentration for those with breathing difficulties."
"Air traffic control is aware of our situation. However, due a storm along the Eastern Coast of Canada, specifically northern Nova Scotia, we cannot attempt to land there on 60% engine power. We will attempt to continue to New York City, however airports along the eastern coast have been alerted to our situation and will accommodate us if necessary. The ride will continue to be bumpy, particularly at this lower altitude and due to the storm over Nova Scotia. Please remain in your seats with your seat belts fastened. We hope to begin the landing sequence in an hour."
An hour?! Rose's breathing sped up as she thought about enduring another hour of this. She was already feeling a bit nauseated by the constant motion of the plane. As if sensing her distress, or perhaps feeling a bit nauseous himself, Christopher pulled out a bag of crisps from his bag and began feeding Rose and himself, as Rose's hands were still clenched desperately to his arm. The salty crispness of the snack did wonders to help Rose feel a bit more grounded and her nausea abated some.
The final half hour of the flight proved to be the worst of all, with the plane dropping and recovering altitude at regular intervals. The captain announced the impending landing and asked all passengers to brace themselves. The plane landed hard, with mismatched engines causing the plane to swerve along the runway. As the plane finally slowed to a stop and New York's Laguardia airport, the cabin erupted in cheers and hugs. Wrapped up in the excitement and relief at finally being on solid ground, Rose threw her arms around Christopher's neck, burying her face in his neck and sobbing with relief.
Overcome with emotions as well, Christopher tilted his head back to press quick kisses on Rose's head and temple. He continued to place kisses on her as she pulled her face away from his neck. His kisses moved quickly over her cheeks until they reached her lips. He seemed to realize what he had just done and pulled away quickly. Before he could apologize and before she could change her mind, Rose pressed her lips to his. Where Christopher's kiss had been a reassuring peck on the lips, Rose's kiss was hungry – hungry to feel alive, to feel the Earth spin under her feet, and to thank this wonderful man who had held her hand through the scariest moments of life.
Christopher responded immediately, answering Rose's hunger with his own. He wrapped his arms tightly around her back as she tightened her hold around his neck. Time and the celebrations going on around them seemed to slow. Lips were nibbled, tongues searched, and lungs burned for air until they finally separated and Rose realized what she had just done. She ducked her head to hide her blush as Christopher was pulled into the celebrations by other passengers and crew. Rose pulled out her phone, quickly texting her mum that she had landed and was fine and would call soon and that she loved her.
The passengers of the flight were methodically evacuated out of the plane and ushered by airport trams to recovery areas where they were given evaluations by medical personnel, interviewed by flight investigators, and screened by customs and border patrol agents before being released. Rose and Christopher stuck close to each other, hands clasped between them as if they needed one another to be grounded in reality. When they were allowed to finally leave, they were forced to release their hands as they gathered their luggage and headed to the exit out to the terminal. News crews swarmed the pair, wanting to get comments from Christopher about his harrowing experience. Not wanting the media attention, Rose quickly moved away from the crowd and headed to the taxi line to catch a cab to the flat she would be sharing with another fashion intern.
Weeks, months and eventually years passed. Rose periodically suffered from nightmares about the ordeal, but in every one, her blue-eyed knight in shining armor was always there to rescue her. Rose followed Christopher's career closely, quietly celebrating when he landed roles in Hollywood box-office hits. She never sought him out. There were days when she regretted not getting his number or email, but he was a famous actor and she had a fashion career to focus on.
Christopher threw himself into his acting, morphing his traumatic experience into the perfect acting motivation for raw emotional or adrenaline-filled scenes. But he never forgot about Rose and once her clothing line launched, he went out every season to buy the latest in Rose Tyler Designs. True to his word, however, he was never photographed in public in her clothes, except when a nosey paparazzo caught him out and about doing his grocery shopping or running other errands.
Rose eventually moved back to London and set up her fashion business there. She hired Donna who turned out to not only be the fastest temp in Chiswick, but was the best personal assistant in all of London. She kept records of what celebrities wore Rose Tyler Designs, knowing well that Rose was a favorite of Christopher's in his private life but not in public. She shared this observation once with Rose who confided in Donna about their fateful plane ride over the Atlantic. Donna tucked that knowledge away, wondering if one day she could play cupid and reunite them.
Her chance finally came at the fifth anniversary of Rose Tyler Designs. Rose had reluctantly agreed to throw a party to celebrate, but only if the main event included a fashion show of her designs alongside the designs of fashion design students who Rose was mentoring, all of whom came from economic backgrounds similar to her own. Rose would also announce that all proceeds from the sales of her clothing line would be donated to a charity that was near and dear to her heart. So near that even Donna didn't know the intended recipient organization because Rose wanted it to remain a secret until the announcement.
Two weeks before the big party, Donna rushed into Rose's office. "Oh my God! Did you hear about Christopher Everstone?!" the assistant screeched. Rose's stomach dropped; her mind immediate took her to worse case scenarios. Was he dead or horribly injured in a freak accident?
"No… what's wrong with him?" Rose could barely utter the question while she held her breath waiting for the bad news.
"He's retiring from acting. Apparently, he's decided to focus on his personal life instead."
The air rushed from Rose's burning lungs with relief. She took a steadying breath, trying and failing to look nonchalant about the news. "Oh… well, good for him. We should all be so lucky to retire at 45," Rose commented. Donna smirked knowingly at her boss and went back to putting her secret plan into motion.
Two weeks later, Rose did one final walkthrough backstage of the models hired to walk the runway at the evening's anniversary show and after-party – not the industry's typical size zero twigs, but average men and women of varying ages, body types and heights. Satisfied with how preparations were going, she walked down the backstage hallway toward the green room where she would change into one of her own creations and run through her speech one final time before the show began. As she approached the green room door, Donna ducked out and stopped her.
"Rose!" Donna exclaimed, a bit surprised to see Rose so close to the door. She recovered quickly and went on, "Everything look okay backstage? I know Rolando looked like he was about to hyperventilate."
"I've calmed him down I think. Just typical nerves for a first-timer," Rose explained. Rolando was one of the students Rose had been mentoring for the last year whose designs were bound to be a hit among the next generation of kids. "Everything okay back here? I'm just headed into the green room to get ready myself."
"Oh! Yes, yes… everything is fine," Donna smiled knowingly. "Actually, there's a special guest here tonight and, well, I kinda let him into your dressing room so that you two could, um, talk…"
"Donna!" Rose shouted before catching herself and lowering her voice back to normal. "What do you mean a 'special guest'?"
"See for yourself," Donna said before opening the dressing room door and pushing Rose inside. The man Donna had escorted into the room a few minutes before stood up from the couch, wiping his hands on his dark jeans nervously.
"Hello, Rose," Christopher greeted, smiling softly.
"Christopher!" Rose said breathlessly.
"You remember me," Christopher's smile widened.
Rose nearly rolled her eyes. How could she forget him? "Of course, I remember you. Not every day I snog a famous celebrity after surviving a near death experience." Rose smiled with her tongue poking through her teeth teasingly. "What are you doing here?"
"Apparently, your assistant can be quite persuasive when she needs something. Convinced my agent to give her my personal number and she called and invited me." Rose's smile faded as she thought about whether to hug her nosey assistant or demote her.
"Sorry about that. When there is something she wants, she can be quite convincing," Rose noted.
"Don't apologize," Christopher moved a step closer to Rose. "I'm glad she called."
"Yeah?" Rose asked hesitantly.
"Yeah," Christopher nearly whispered. They watched each other carefully, waiting for one or the other to break the heavy silence that had fallen over the room. Rose was the first to break the silence with a thought that had been burning in her for the last month.
"I heard you've retired from acting. Congratulations."
"Thanks," Christopher replied. Rose noted a sparkle of hope and anxiety in his eyes. "but it's more like a break. I'll get back into it one day."
The silence descended again, and like a game of tag, Christopher broke it this time. "Congratulations on your clothing line. Although, I knew seven years ago that you'd be successful one day. And just as I promised, I don't wear your clothing to public events so as not to increase demand and price." Rose quickly glanced at Christopher's outfit, noting immediately that he was wearing nearly all Rose Tyler pieces. She thought nearly simply because she couldn't verify his undergarments. Christopher also looked down at himself and looked back at Rose sheepishly. "Well….I thought it would be okay to make an exception just this once for your event."
Rose couldn't help but laugh, putting them both at ease. She motioned for Christopher to take a seat on the sofa while she offered him refreshments. Turning to the catering station set up in the green room, Rose shook her head at the spread before her – champagne and chocolate covered strawberries, along with exotic cheeses, breads, and other fruits. Rose gritted her teeth and muttered "Donna" under her breath.
Christopher noticed Rose's reaction and observed, "I take it this isn't your usual green room catering selection." He couldn't help the chuckle that followed, but tried to stifle it with a cough.
"As I said," Rose explained, "Donna gets what she wants. And apparently she wants us to celebrate something."
"Well, I don't know Donna very well, but I get the impression that I shouldn't argue with her," Christopher noted, reaching for the champagne and two flutes.
Rose smiled and put a sampling of food items on a plate for the two reunited friends to share. Rose sat on the sofa and placed the plate between them. Christopher handed Rose a flute of bubbly liquid and held out his glass.
"To successful careers," he toasted.
"To relaxing retirements," Rose added. They clanked their glasses together and each took a large drink, as if looking for courage in liquid form.
"What are your grand retirement plans?" Rose asked.
Christopher took another long drink of his champagne, nearly emptying the glass before he replied. Even after seven years, Rose recognized the look on his face. Christopher was clearly trying to collect his thoughts before answering her. Afraid she had hit a nerve, she added, "You don't have to tell me. I didn't mean to pry."
"It's alright," Christopher replied, reaching out to take Rose's hand. "Don't believe the redtops and their outlandish theories. Not dying, me. And I don't have a drug problem or anything like that. I…" Christopher cleared his throat and continued. "I met someone, years ago now. Brilliant, she is. Made me think about my life differently. Made me want to consider things I'd never thought about before – love, marriage, settling down with a house and mortgage and carpets. You know… domestics." Christopher shuddered and Rose smiled at his aversion to normal life goals. "Tried for a long time to forget about her, to ignore the connection we had. Stubborn, me. But no matter what I did, I couldn't get her off of my mind." Christopher's crystalline eyes watched Rose's carefully. The intensity was so much that Rose had to look away.
Processing what Christopher had just confessed, Rose removed her hand from his and placed it in her lap.
"The thing is," Christopher went on, "she has no idea how I feel about her. Haven't seen or spoken to her in years. She's got a very successful career now and probably loads of blokes interested in her. I'm afraid she won't want a daft old man like me."
Rose shook her head at his self-deprecating comment. She swallowed down her disappointment and the tiny twinge of jealousy toward this unnamed woman, and replied, "Any woman would be lucky to have you in her life. Maybe you should try finding her and being honest about how you feel?"
"I just did," he confessed. Rose's gaze flicked back up to meet Christopher's blue orbs and her breath hitched in her throat. Christopher shifted closer to Rose, taking Rose's champagne flute and setting on the table in front of the sofa before taking both of Rose's hands in his.
"Rose," he said softly, trying not to spook her. "Since that plane ride seven years ago, I haven't been able to get you off my mind. And it's not just the shared adrenaline and brush with death. Or even the brilliant snog. But you treated me like a normal bloke – between your annoyance at the delays I caused you and your peace offering of shared earbuds. You were honest and kind and… I'd be lying if I said you didn't captivate and fascinate me. I admire your strength and resilience, and your tenacity to achieve all this," Christopher motioned to the rest of the room to indicate her successful clothing line. "And your support of others blazing the trail that you've lain from council estate to fashion icon."
Rose blushed, hearing such praises from the award-winning actor. She chewed her lip, trying to bring order to the chaos of her thoughts. Christopher Everstone admired her, but it was more than that. He wanted to be with her. How many times in the last seven years had Rose thought about him and those hours they spent together on that flight to New York City. She'd dreamed about him. And she couldn't deny that she had fantasized about being with him from time to time.
"I…" Rose stuttered. "I haven't stopped thinking about you either," she confessed. "Yeah, I was annoyed with you at first, but then I realized that you just wanted to be treated like everyone else. You were so genuine and caring. And when the plane's troubles started, you were my rock. You kept me grounded when all I wanted to do was panic." Rose took a deep breath, trying in vain to calm her nerves while also memorize this moment, the moment when she offered her heart to this man and hoped he'd accept it.
"You think you've been secretly supporting me all these years, but I know all about your private wardrobe," she teased, blushing a bit when she realized the double entendre she had just uttered. "Donna keeps a record of all the celebrities photographed in my designs and you always top the list. She says it's good for publicity, but I know that it's also an excuse to read the rags at work," Rose smirked. "The point is… I don't have loads of blokes pursuing me. And even if I did, none of them would interest me. In the last seven years, the only man I've been interested in is the one who sat next to me and held my hand when I thought I was going to die."
"Oh, Rose!" Christopher exclaimed, sounding as breathless as she felt. He pulled her into his embrace and they wrapped their arms around each other. Their bodies relaxed instantly, as if recognizing each other's warmth and presence after seven years of longing. Rose felt Christopher place a firm kiss to her temple, and Rose rolled her head back enough in the hopes of meeting her lips with his.
Just as their lips brushed together, there was a harsh knock at the door and the sound of it opening. Rose and Christopher jumped apart, with Rose glaring at the intruder, and Christopher turning his head away to hide his expression of utter joy. Donna stood in the doorway, a knowing smirk on her face as she had just spied the two long-lost friends-soon-to-be-lovers in a romantic embrace before they had separated.
"Hate to break up this beautiful reunion, but twenty minutes until show time, Rose," Donna noted.
"Thanks, Donna." Rose replied before turning to Christopher. "I've gotta get changed, yeah? Donna can help you find your seat. And after the show, come find me, yeah? Don't wait another seven years…" Rose teased.
Christopher rolled his eyes before standing up to leave. Before he walked away, he leaned in to peck Rose on the lips with a chaste kiss and then whispering in her ear so that Donna couldn't overhear, "No more waiting." Rose shivered in response and smiled giddily as she watched him leave the green room with Donna, who winked conspiratorially as she closed the door behind her.
The show was a huge success. As the guests, designers, and models mulled around at the after party drinking cocktails and eating nibbles, Rose had escaped briefly to gather her notes for her big speech. The runway had been removed and the seats turned to face a podium at the front of the room. The lights flickered, signaling that the guests should find their seats. Rose stood at the podium as the room hushed and she looked out over the crowd, spying Christopher in a seat near a side exit that led backstage. Rose cleared her throat and began.
"Good evening, ladies and gentleman. Thank you for coming tonight and for your support of Rose Tyler Designs these last five years. Seven years ago when I started my internship in New York City, I never imagined that I'd be here. A girl like me, daughter of a widowed single mum from London's council estates, just doesn't succeed in life like I have. But it's because of the support of so many of you in this room and all of the people around the world who have purchased my designs that I can stand here in front of you all. That's why, as you are all aware, that I partnered with UC London to mentor young fashion design students from backgrounds like mine. And I'm proud to announce that I have accepted a visiting professorship at UCL starting in the fall. I look forward to doing even more through this role and the continued mentorship program at Rose Tyler Designs.
"It was announced recently that I have decided to donate all proceeds of the sales of Rose Tyler Designs to a charity that is near and dear to my heart. Considering what I have just told you, you are probably assuming that this charity would be fashion or UCL related. But it is not. When I moved to New York seven years ago to begin this journey, I was on Flight 204. You may recall that Flight 204 suffered severe engine trouble mid-flight. Our pilots miraculously limped the injured plane the rest of the way to LaGuardia. On that flight, there was a passenger who calmed me when I was panicked, who looked out for me although I was a stranger to him. Even before the engines failed, he treated me with kindness and told me that I would be successful and one day, he hoped to fill his closet with Rose Tyler Designs.
"As we spoke about my passion for fashion," Rose paused, winking to the crowd who laughed at her rhyme, "he told me about his passion to find a cure for Alzheimers, a disease that was slowly taking his father away from him. Having grown up without my father, my heart broke imagining what it must be like for him to slowly lose his father right before his eyes. And so, in honor of that man who held my hand and inspired me to be successful, and in memory of his late father, I have selected as beneficiary the Everstone Center for Alzheimers."
The crowd erupted in and applause. Those who had noticed Christopher's attendance in the audience turned in his direction. Christopher sat dumbstruck. If he had any reservations about what he meant to Rose, they all quickly flew out proverbial window as his gaze found hers and she smiled softly at him.
Once the applause ended, Rose raised a glass of champagne, thanked the audience one final time and invited the guests to continue mingling and enjoying the refreshments. As she exited the stage, she was quickly surrounded by a handful of people, mostly fashion journalists hoping to get a sound bite or two for their piece about the show and Rose's big announcement. Rose answered politely, regularly glancing over their shoulders in Christopher's direction. He too was immediately surrounded by media and party goers, looking for a comment. Rose wondered if she should have given him some sort of warning rather than letting him be caught so off guard.
Oh well, she thought. Makes his reaction that much more authentic; the press love that.
As the crowds around them dwindled, Christopher and Rose made eye contact before Christopher nodded at her and made is way toward the backstage exit. As quickly as she could, though not quick enough, Rose managed to excuse herself from the party and make her way back stage hoping to find Christopher waiting for her. Her eyes met his as he stood waiting at the end of a long hall near an exit. She smiled softly and headed his direction, only to be caught off guard by Donna.
"Just where do you think you're going, missy?" Donna asked Rose. "The editors of both Vogue and People are hoping for exclusive interviews. And the party isn't over yet."
"Well," said Rose, "I've got an exclusive for them – an interview with the new Vice President of Rose Tyler Designs. Think you're up for the challenge?"
Donna gasped and clutched her chest in shock. "Me?! What do you mean Vice President?"
"I had the PR department draft up the announcement and send it out right before my speech. Congratulations, Donna. You deserve it!" Rose announced, before swiftly moving past her flabbergasted assistant turned VP.
"But, what about you? Where are you going?" Donna called after her.
Rose turned around and smiled wider than Donna had ever seen. "I'm going to catch up with an old friend," she said, before turning and closing the distance between herself and Christopher. Donna watched the couple, illuminated by the soft evening light coming through the small rectangular windows in the exit door and the glow of the exit sign. With hands clasped between them, they shared a soft but passion-filled kiss, before exiting the door together and heading out into the evening.
Donna smiled at her successful role as matchmaker. As she turned to rejoin the festivities, Donna couldn't help by square her shoulders and stand up taller, taking her place as the new Vice President of Rose Tyler Designs.
THE END.