In the blue moonlight, she stood. Her white nightgown seemed to be only a shroud, an unassuming veil between the ocean below and herself. She extended her withered, delicate hand and traced the picture frames that lined her bedside. Her fingers lighted upon the edges delicately, as if the moments captured within might break if she were too firm. It was as if her entire life had been a dream; it was so real and yet so fleeting. Memories of life after that day existed, yes; but she was both before and beyond them. It wasn't so much that she could see him in her mind- she could feel him in her room, by her side. And it was now, after all the years that had passed, that she could speak to him. At last, her heart breathed.
"I didn't let go, Jack," Rose whispered.
"I flew an airplane." She paused, absorbing the exhilaration of the remembrance. "I rode a horse on the beach... I was an actress. I was a wife, and a mother." She waited for the reaction, waited for the connection between them to speak to her. "I even came back to Titanic," she smiled. Emotions welled within her, harnessed for decades, bubbled to her voice.
"I didn't let go, Jack." And she finally felt him move. Her skin felt light, her bones no longer a burden. Her eyes smiled as she laid herself to rest against the cool sheets. She was like a wave. With every break on the horizon, she drew farther away from the throes of life and closer to the shore of eternity. She felt the sand glide beneath her, gentle foam carrying her to her destination as a melody strengthened her soul. "Come Josephine, in my flying machine... going up, she goes... up she, goes... balance yourself like a bird on a beam... in the air, she goes... there, she goes! Up, up, a little bit higher... oh, my! the moon is on fire!" Golden light swept her away, at long last; away from her bed, and into the sun. The warmth of the music encircled her, caressing her worn skin. She began to float towards the ground, as her toes eased themselves onto the smooth wood of a deck. The golden light penetrated everything, gleaming an unparalleled glow. Her body felt saturated by it, and yet more liberated than it had in years. Their eyes connected before she even saw him. She turned her head. There, leaning against a rail, was a man. Jack.
Rose took slow steps towards him. He smiled as he faced her. His face conveyed such depth of emotion, she could hardly take it in. Joy, sorrow, and heartrending pride overtook his features. "You didn't let go, Rose." It was if her heart started beating, as if it had never beat before that moment. His voice was unchanged, it was still the simple, melodic voice of her darling.
"No, I didn't." She reached her hand out to touch his face. When she saw her hand, she stopped midway. It was still old. She laughed weakly, "And it certainly has taken it's toll on me." Jack stepped toward her. His look penetrated her being, looked beyond every wrinkle, beyond her withered body and hair. Jack took the hand that still hovered in the air in both of his, encircling it with a timeless love. He pressed her fingers to his lips, cradling them as if they were precious. Rose felt her eyelids flutter closed. Years of burdens and heartaches, joys and sorrows flew away. She opened her eyes, and reexamined the hand Jack still held close. It was the one she had at seventeen.
She felt a tear slip down her smooth cheek, reveling in the liberation of her age, her life. She was in his arms before she knew it, their lips joined in tender reunion. A heart that waited, a heart that went on. Two hearts, together: always.