A Curtain Call

The curtains closed, just like they did every other night, and every afternoon at the crowded matinees. They were heavy ones-a rusted red colour, covered in dust that wasn't visible unless you walked up to examine them closely enough. They were thick, hanging from ancient wires, and each time they moved, a familiar rumble echoed over the wooden stage that sounded as though the entire place would cave in. The cast lay in total darkness, breathing heavily-tired and worn from this night's performance. But outside, the chairs in the audience were squeaking, and hands were thrown together in loud claps.

Rose closed her eyes and gripped the hands of her fellow players; waiting patiently for the grand finale. As always, her heart was racing, and although she was physically exhausted, this thrill which she felt right now, never left. Over and over, Rose would eagerly explore the audience she had devotedly performed in front of for the previous two hours. During the show, there was little time to glance out into the sea of people, and curtain call was her only chance to see the faces behind such jubilant clapping. Often, she recognised repeat visitors in the front row-men and women who obviously had nothing better to do than watch a small-time revival of Oscar Wilde's An Ideal Husband.

Rose heard the clanging as the curtains reopened and she took a deep breath, opening her eyes to the scene before her. It seemed that the entire house was standing this time, a few people even shouting or whistling over the noise. She smiled and tossed her head back, trying to keep the tiny tendrils of her red hair from her face. She could feel the tight bun on her head loosening, and surely the tiny bobby pins would fall out any second and release her hair into her face. But in the excitement of this moment, she certainly did not care.

"Our best one yet, Rose. Best yet!" She turned her head to smile at the man beside her, Sam Watson, who portrayed Sir Robert Chiltern night after night. With one solid nod, she acknowledged his comment and prepared to take her bow. Her long, old-fashioned skirt whirled around her as she bent at the waist, lowering her head to the quickly increasing thunder of applause. She always found it difficult to believe that this was for her-such clear recognition, such a loud celebration.

How long had it actually been? Four months since she'd nervously arrived for her audition in this place. And four months since her life had finally started to feel meaningful again. As though it had some purpose and a need to move forward. Sometimes this was all that kept her from falling and disappearing into a dark pit of past memories and haunting cries. It was the one thing which she was sure she was meant to do with her life. She had something inside of her; a creative itch and it was one that needed to be scratched thoroughly.

"Well..."

Rose lifted her chin and watched as the lights in the theatre were brightened. The magical setting of the stage seemed to fade away, and soon there was a rustling of coats and paper programs as people began to depart after the chorus of claps had disappeared into a sound of hushed voices.

It was customary for the cast to stay on stage until the seats were completely empty, just in case anyone wanted to greet them, take photographs, or simply deliver a bouquet. Rose let her arms fall to her side and kept her eyes on the line of those waiting to climb onto the stage. There were proud family members of her co-stars, as always, and a few lone fans who had decided to stay around to meet the cast. She let out a sigh, knowing that once again, there were no flowers waiting for her. And certainly no one she knew to talk to. Just the occasional stranger, who shook her hand or let out a timid thank you, on their way to meet someone else.

"Are you tired?" Rose turned at Sam's voice.

"Yes.'' Rose grinned and pressed her hands to her cheeks, flushed from the overhead lights. She was thirsty and eager to go home, even though she had thoroughly enjoyed herself this night, as always. ''But, it is the most rewarding thing to be here.''

"I agree, I agree." Sam nodded and smiled politely at her, his attentions elsewhere as he raised his hands in a wave. A tall, elegantly dressed woman was making her way towards them, and Rose stepped back a little, making room for his guest. She darted her eyes away from them as a small surge of loneliness flowed through her chest, making her heart flutter slightly. She swallowed hard, taking it in her stride. All around her, cast mates were surrounded by family and partners; not a soul came to her.

Through the sound of footsteps on the cement floor of the theatre, she could barely make out a sharp banging. Coming from one of the far corners, it was most definitely a person; trying desperately to be heard. But the ghostly shadows of the walls, even with several of the lights on, hid the face.

Rose squinted and stepped forward, disoriented as the ensemble onstage started to disperse outwards. They passed her briskly, laughing and chatting, throwing a soft wind in her face. But still the solitary clapping persisted, until she heard nothing else. Frustrated, Rose brought a hand to her forehead, hoping to catch a glimpse of its source. For some reason, she began to feel goose bumps developing on her arms. Maybe it was the chill from outside, a door backstage left open by the janitor. That had happened on occasion during rehearsals just weeks ago and they had joked of a resident ghost.

The sound stopped abruptly, although she did not move her gaze from the corner where it had started. Once again, she heard the muffled voices of those still trying to exit the theatre, and their happy faces were a blur to her. She held her breath as a tall figure emerged from the dark spot she had been watching. It was a man; of that she was immediately sure. But still, the small crowd at the back of the room prevented her from seeing his face fully. A coat was draped across his arm, and he moved, gracefully amongst the narrow rows of seats. Rose felt her hands balling into fists as a sensation filled her like never before.

It couldn't be.

No.

"No. No.'' She shook her head. ''Don't be absurd," Rose whispered to herself, impatiently craning her neck to see him. His head was turned as he leaned to enter the carpeted aisle. His hair was a dark blond, short, cut like many men were wearing it these days. But the clothes...the way the shirt hung on his lithe frame. It was too uncanny, too familiar. Was it possible? Rose felt moisture in her eyes. Shaking her head, she thought for a moment that this was a mirage.

But when the man lifted his face, Rose gasped. No! The jaw, the cheekbones. Him. It couldn't be anyone else. And when his eyes met hers, she felt a pressure on her body, as if a great weight had been placed on her.

Rose knew in an instant that he had seen her. Even from this distance, she could see a smile on his face, and his hands moved as if he were trying to reach her from where he stood. His mouth moved.

"Rose."

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.

Jack dropped his coat on the floor as he ran to the stage; his own vision temporarily interrupted. His heart pounded as 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 embraced her. Now she knew that this had to be real; she would never forget the smell of him. 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. He could have held her for minutes, hours, she wasn't sure. But when she finally gathered the courage to lift her head and open her eyes, his muslin shirt was wet with her consistent tears.

"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 months 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.

Jack moved his hand to her hair. It fell down, cascading down her back just like he remembered. He couldn't let his emotions get the better of him...not now, in this crucial moment. Six months had passed, and she had to know why. 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.

''Yes.''

''How-'' She breathed, still unable to find the words.

"I was sick..." He closed his eyes, as if to briefly recall his arduous stay in the hospital. Regaining his thoughts, he shook his head, fighting back memories. "All I can remember is trying to find you...and then suddenly I was on a lifeboat...I..." Jack appeared disgusted with himself, taking a deep breath. Rose bit her lip, raising a finger to his mouth to silence him.

Trying to hold back anymore tears, she raised her chin shakily, "You're here. That's all that matters.'' Her green eyes were filled with something. He couldn't tell quite what it was. "I could never find you, Jack. I went to all the hospitals, but some of them wouldn't tell me...who was there, that they couldn't disclose information like that." Her voice caught, and she sought his eyes for support; those gentle eyes. They had made her fall in love with Jack Dawson. They seemed to be unchanged, but something new was in his face.

Jack's rough hands moved over hers, sending the all too familiar jolts down her spine, her arms, in her stomach. He took her fingers in his, moving closer while he spoke. "I didn't know that. I was lost, Rose. When I woke up, days had passed. I was so tired, in and out of sleep. I was weak; hyperthermia they said.'' He shivered just recalling how he had felt during that time. ''I was trying to speak but I just couldn't. It was almost May, and I felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on me. I thought that for sure I'd lost you for good. I knew you had survived. That wasn't a question in my mind, but..." He paused and watched her eyebrows raise in confusion. "I never doubted for a minute that you'd have the strength to go on...with that fire." His eyes twinkled, and Rose was lost in them again, just like she had been that day in the gym aboard Titanic.

"Your name wasn't on any lists, but I just knew...knew that you had found a way." Jack smiled wistfully and went on. "When they finally let me out of the hospital, I was a mess. All I wanted to do was find you, but I had nowhere to go.''

Rose took a shaky breath and looked around her, suddenly aware that the theatre was absolutely empty, except for the two of them. Some of the house lights had even been turned off again.

"So, how-" Rose held onto him, the pure shock she had experienced still coursing through her body. ''What did you do?''

"I found a job. I had to. And I started looking. But I never realised what a big city this is..." Jack stopped, and noted the smile upon her face. She was amused. "It took me months-months of searching. And then, one day, I passed a flyer for the play in a little book store window.'' He could still see it now. ''Just...just hanging there...Rose Dawson." Jack whispered her name, and Rose looked down. Of course, she had never thought she would have to explain anything to him. What could she tell him? That she had taken his name because the man in front of her had changed her life? She had given up everything to be with him and would have continued that life with the tools he had given her, without him.

"Jack, I...I had to..." Rose tried to sputter a response, but was halted by Jack's hand, which he laid carefully over her mouth. And it was then that she saw the look in his eyes. It wasn't anger or confusion, but happiness, pride.

"I knew it was you. And, I know why." He watched her eyes soften, again. There wouldn't be any more questions about it.

"So, what do we do? There's a lot to talk about, so much to say." Rose widened her eyes expectantly, roving his handsome face. His hair was shorter. She'd never seen it like that before, but it fit him. Made him look wiser, older. She only wished that he would disregard her comment, tell her in that poetic way of his that nothing mattered just as he had done before.

"I know." Jack nodded. "I've been thinking about that for a few days now. I've been at every performance this week, Rose." She felt his hands fumble against her back, smooth and warm. She hadn't thought that she would ever truly experience this comfort again, this security. "You're beautiful on stage, it's amazing. You're so alive-just like you should be."

Rose raised her left hand to his cheek, gently caressing it. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. And you know that." She seemed confident, sure of herself. Yes, he'd saved her before. But she didn't need saving now, not in the least.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and Rose cautiously moved her head upward, closer to his. The light scent of him met her nose, and she sighed, tempted by his lips so near. He had been the first and only man to kiss her, to hold her and she had gone over and over those moments in her head for the last six months.

Jack felt the entire world disappear. Everything which surrounded them melted away in a cloud of blur. Her lips were very suddenly on his own; soft and inviting. Jack whispered her name, losing the silent battle inside him. Gently, Jack took her right hand in his left and moved forward once again. He kissed her again with more passion than the first time. She could feel his warmth next to her, but yet she still shivered. As his lips moved on hers, she struggled to even breath, to think and to even stand. The outside world seemed to disappear. It was just them now. No more words were needed to express what each felt towards the other.

This was the moment which she played over and over in her head and yet she hadn't managed to prepare herself enough for what would happen.

When they finally broke apart, Rose was clinging to him, and he leaned his head against hers. "Please, say something.'' She whispered against his lips. ''Just...anything."

"I love you." His breath tickled her ear, and Rose smiled, a blush coming to her cheeks. He had never said that before. And hearing it now, so much later, was strange. But the honesty and truth behind those simple words took her breath away. ''I love you. I know I shouldn't. But, I do.''

"I love you, too." She spoke softly, almost shyly, and turned her head so that she could see his eyes. "The time doesn't matter, does it? It just can't." She said this hurriedly, impatiently, waiting for his response. ''I fell in love with you after two days.''

''No, it doesn't matter.''

She breathed out her relief.

"You've got a life here. A real one, that you earned. I don't want to take that away."

"You won't." Rose stated this with conviction, with a stubbornness that made Jack smile. ''I tortured myself, wanting you, and now we've found each other again, don't even think that I'm going to let this pass, us by. You are the most important thing to me, without you, nothing else matters."

He laughed. Laughed that golden and heart-warming laugh of his. The fact that she had such faith in him, and their life together made him feel a warmth he never had before. He stepped back and motioned toward the rows upon rows of chairs.

''What about all of this? You're a wonderful actress.''

Pulling the last pins from her dishevelled hair, she dropped them to the floor, pushing some wild tendrils behind her ears.

"I put my old life behind me. And I don't...even miss it. For the first time in my life, I feel free. But until tonight, I was still only a half person. I was...lonely. Half a person, without you." Rose's forehead creased as she watched Jack's tender face light up. His heart-shaped lips curved upwards, and finally she saw a glimmer of that bold artist she had met not so long ago.

"Yes. I understand.'' He stared at the semi-darkness that stretched before them. They could make a go of things, build a life. Fill the empty spaces together, just like they had planned before. It would be all he wanted, all he needed.

Rose grinned and slipped her arms around him again, this time pulling him even more tightly to her than before. She sensed the intimacy they had always shared, so raw and so beautiful. "Do you still draw?" she whispered huskily, brushing her mouth against his.

"Yes." Jack kissed her once and leaned back to look at her. ''I only draw you. What I can remember of you. Which is everything."

"I'm glad." Rose smiled warmly and took hold of his waist, gently leading him to walk. "They're going to lock us in here." She giggled. "I have to get my coat from the dressing room. And then..." She paused. "And then, what, Jack?" Her voice was expectant, excited, if he was hearing correctly.

"And, then we make each day count, right?" Those words were old now, old after months of loneliness and solitude. But they brought back promise-hope. He raised his eyebrows and brushed a curl from Rose's delicate face. There was a look of pure delight there.

''Yes.''