Oh my god! I'm so sorry for the exceedingly long delay. I know it's not really an excuse, but I've been so busy. I moved last week, as well as had my birthday and I volunteered for more hours than I expected to at a kids camp. Thank you so much for all of the amazing reviews from all of you amazingly lovely readers. There will be two or three more chapters after this, but I can't tell for sure when they will be out. Enjoy!

The car door flew open and a flash of color darted from within. Before Jack could even register that she was headed his way he saw her climb into the truck bed and felt her arms around his neck. As if with a mind of their own, his hands found their way around her shoulders. They kissed then.

It was not passionate and searching like the first time they had kissed. This time their lips simply met by pure instinct—a physical need to be connected. They broke apart and met again over and over, confirming the reality of what had just happened. They were actually together. The kiss shattered any lingering doubt in Rose's mind that this was actually Jack. Only one person's kisses had made her feel like she was simply and extension of the other person's being. It hit her that it was actually Jack she was kissing—alive and well—and all she could do was break away and lean into his shoulder.

She felt the tingling pain in her chest that felt like love and anticipation and awe all wrapped into one emotion. Perhaps it was a side effect of her broken heart mending too quickly. It had gone from shattered one moment to overflowing the next. She had gone for 22 years expecting to see Jack around every corner but knowing, deep down, that she never would. She had seen him almost nightly while she was asleep. Now, her body was pressed against his, and it was real. And it felt even better than the dreams.

"It really is you," she spoke, awestruck.

Jack could only smile down at her and not vigorously, trying to quell the tears.

Putting a firm arm around her shoulder, Jack saw his new future unfold before him. He pictured himself happy and loving, much like the man whom Rose had met all those years ago. Like the man he had pretended to be for most of the time since then. He imagined Rose in her bare feet walking around in his small house, just like he had seen so many times before in his nightly fantasies. Only now, these thoughts were purely happy. He would never have to wake up from this and go back to his empty life.

Less than an hour ago, Jack had been the lonely brokenhearted man who had been living so apathetically. He didn't even recognize that emotion anymore. Rose's presence had filled a void in his heart, allowing him to feel again. He was no longer simply living his life waiting to die and meet her again. Perhaps he even had died, but such trivial matters as whether he was alive mattered little now that he was reunited with Rose.

For here they both were, alive and well and huddled together in the back of Rose's pickup truck. As she took his hand and traced the lines of his palm, he couldn't resist chuckling.

"What?" she asked.

"Seem familiar?" he indicated their location with a slyness in his voice that had been missing for almost as long as Rose.

"Jack!" Rose squealed, glancing around. "In the middle of a parking lot?"

His name felt so comfortable to her lips. For so many years, she had visualized the letters of his name bouncing off of the hollow walls of her brain. She had refused for a long time to even say it out loud. But now it sounded like music when she simply shouted his name.

"I've missed you so damn much, Rose. I've missed saying your name, I've missed kissing you and holding you. Let's just stay here forever."

"Here? I thought we established that the middle of a parking lot would be an exceptionally bad place to spend forever," Rose said with a grin.

Jack cracked the widest smile he had since the last day he had seen her until she kissed him intensely.

Jack was floored at how he was currently being kissed. He had tried to move on, he really had, but he wondered how any other girl could have even began to compare to Rose. Even when he was twenty his sexual experience had been a bit limited compared to most of his companions, but since then he may as well have joined the monastery. But even though his tongue was not used to another mouth, and even though his teeth were not accustomed to having a woman's tongue between their crevices, he had never felt more comfortable than he did right now.

He sort of noticed that it was now dark and the rain was beginning to fall hard around him, but right now dryness was a secondary concern behind not moving from where he was currently seated.

"God Rose, it's been twenty two years but it's almost like you've never left. Even though it was only an hour ago, I can't really remember what my life was like."

"What even happened?" she asked. "I was sure you died that night. Why couldn't we have known back then. Then we could have been together this whole time."

"Let's not talk about this now—" he started, but as Rose began to protest, he continued. "It is very important to talk about, but we have plenty of time this time. And I guess we have to make all of that time count."

"Are you still telling everyone that?" she laughed. "Because I tried, I really tried. I think it just made me admire you even more when I found out just how hard it was to never be cynical."

Jack laughed. "No. In fact, I really haven't been living that way at all. I'm so different from the man you knew back then. I thought all that "making it count" stuff seemed really childish the whole time you weren't with me. Anyone with the right attitude can "make it count" without any money, but I just couldn't do it without the woman I love."

"I've changed too, Jack. I like to think in some good ways, but I've always felt so...incomplete."

As they continued to speak, they inched closer and closer together. Soon, they had completely forgotten everything of the outside world—the fact that Jack was still technically at work, the fact that the clerk was still waiting for Rose to pay for the work on her truck, and the fact that the rain was continuing to fall hard. Rose hadn't even really noticed the heavy raindrops hitting her until she brushed a thumb across Jack's cheek and noticed moisture.

"Oh my god! Jack, it's raining!"

Jack smiled as he looked down at their wet clothes and hair. It should have been pretty obvious that it was raining.

"Let's get inside," he said. He started to head back into the mechanic shop, but Rose stopped him and pointed to the cab of the truck.

"Will it run?"

"I think so," Jack began. "I didn't get a chance to start it yet, so I don't know. But it was the nicest—er, second nicest car I've ever seen. Nothing was really wrong with it. Why?"

"Do you really want to stay here?" she asked, headed towards the truck. Jack hurried behind her so that he could pull the door open. When she felt him behind her, she turned around, a bit surprised. "No one's opened a car door for me in 22 years. I guess I forgot about that."

This was when Jack first realized that she was no longer wealthy. He had sort of noticed that her clothes were not made of the same fine materials, but she still looked well put together. The whole time they had been talking, money had not even come up. For a moment Jack wondered if she had just been hit badly by the depression, but he knew really that she had not been wealthy since Titanic. She had given up all the money simply for his memory. She had been living her life trying to emulate his. Jack had never wanted to embrace her tightly more.

But instead, the pair continued to stand in the open doorway in the pouring rain. Jack couldn't help but wonder just where she was living. There were plenty of places in Detroit where even he wouldn't have wanted to go. She had afforded the car a while ago, so his hopes were high that she was at least living somewhere safe.

"Where do you want to go, Jack?"

"Where do you live?" He asked almost too quickly.

"Well," she said, fishing a note out of her pocket. "Right now my address is a blue pickup truck sitting in the parking lot at," she glanced at the paper she had scribbled the mechanic's address on, "173 State street."

He looked at her strangely, recognizing the address of his job, but mostly awed that she remembered the words he had spoken to her mother. He didn't judge her lack of home, he didn't even reprimand her that living alone was dangerous.

"Stay at my house, Rose." He remembered a time when he had nothing to give her. Now, he wanted more than anything to offer her everything.

"You live in Detroit?" she asked.

"Yeah—I have for a couple months."

"I guess that was a stupid question," she chuckled. "But are you sure I can stay there? I don't mean to impose."

"That was another stupid question," Jack muttered.

When Rose slithered out of his arms, he was at first surprised. He thought he had said something wrong. But then Jack noticed that she was walking to the car door on the passenger's side with a smile. When she got in the truck, she leaned over the cab to face Jack through the still open driver's seat door to face Jack.

"I trust you," she shouted, tossing him the keys.

Jack looked down at the small ring of keys in his palm. He had seen hundreds like them, just in the few months he had been working as a mechanic. But he had never used them.

He thought back on the first time he had ever set foot in an automobile. He couldn't even remember what the red and black Renault looked like from the outside, but his experience on the inside had made him want to preserve all of the memories. Since then, the only time he had been inside a vehicle had been for brief moments when he would see if a customer's car would start. At first, knowing how to drive had been unnecessary, but soon, cars became a memory that it would be too painful to revisit. He had successfully avoided ever learning how to drive, but now he was more than embarrassed.

It felt like he was, once again, inferior to Rose. She had been able to start to move on. She had no problem with learning to drive a car. She even owned it and—as it appeared—lived in it. She had successfully dropped any hint of her haughtiness. Instead of moping, waiting to be reunited with him, she lived her life trying to honor him. Right now, he wasn't feeling particularly deserving of her honor. How could he tell her he had been to cowardly to learn to drive? Especially when she had handed him the keys, assuming that he would drive her home.

The inner workings of a car were simple. He had picked it up in only a few days after reluctantly taking the mechanic's job. Driving it could not be that much more difficult. The only thought on his mind was to prove to Rose that he was still worthy of her love. He took one look at her expectant, trusting eyes, sat down in the driver's seat, and turned on the ignition. He had done that much before, but his nervousness increased as he reached for the gear shift.

As he slowly backed out of the parking lot, Rose reached over as if to take his hand, but he put it firmly on the wheel. He didn't want her to feel his sweaty palms. The first few gear shifts went smoothly. He usually walked or caught a ride to and from work, so he didn't have far to go. Feeling slightly more comfortable, he glanced over at Rose, who was riding along contently. Before, he had worked so hard to gain her trust and now he was wildly abusing it, simply for his own selfishness. Jack felt rotten.

"Rose," he said seriously. "I feel like shit."

She wasn't bothered by the curse word, but by the utterly dismal tone of his voice. "Jack? What's wrong?" She asked, immediately concerned.

"I can't believe myself. After promising myself all those years ago that I would protect you with my life, I put your life in danger over and over again."

"Is this about Titanic? That's all behind us, love. We're together now," she put a gentle hand on his arm.

"No, Rose. It's that I was too stupid and embarrassed to tell you. I—I don't know how to drive."

Rose looked at Jack sitting behind the wheel. It was a sight she had seen before. But now, as she thought of that time, she realized that he had looked more comfortable then, when they were playfully exploring their new lack of boundaries, than he did now, when he was simply driving home from work. Surely he wouldn't drive with her in the car if he actually didn't know how to drive.

"Don't be stupid, Jack. You're doing fine."

"No, this is the longest I've been inside a car since—well—you know."

Jack couldn't exactly read her expression. She seemed to be mostly angry, but a bit surprised, maybe even a bit touched.

"Pull over," she said, continuing to hide her expression.

As Jack began to slow the car and look for the side of the road, he grew nervous that he had really messed things up. If Rose didn't want to be with him, he loved her too much to not honor that. But unfortunately, if that were true, he would have nothing in life to live for, and nothing in the afterlife to die for.

But when he nervously pressed his foot to the clutch and glanced at Rose, she smiled warmly. "How about I teach you to drive?" she asked.

"Really?" He grinned. He was just happy that she was speaking pleasantly with him after he had misused her trust.

"Of course, Jack. You've taught me so much. Least I can do is return the favor." She put her hand on top of his and guided him to steer to the side of the road. As the warmth of their hands touched, Jack and Rose each looked over to the other. Even after twenty two years, it still felt the same.

But they were still in a moving car. They heard a splash as the car traveled through a large puddle and slipped. Only moments after they looked up, they heard a thud and felt a collision in the same instant. Two sets of eyes grew large as the thick tree on the side of the road came into vision from the windshield.

"Damn it all to hell."

Jack saw how shocked Rose looked in the passenger seat and punched the steering wheel in anger. He pushed the door open and got out, making sure Rose was coming behind him. It surprised him when she collapsed into his arms. He remembered how well taken care of her truck had been. He had been the one to crash it, yet she was coming to him for comfort? Jack frowned and pulled away.

Rose wondered why Jack had pulled away. She had just wanted to teach him how to drive, but instead, she threw the car into a tree on the side of the road. She couldn't help but be reminded of watching the ship scrape the iceberg. Jack's arms were the only source of comfort she could think of, but he had pulled away.

"Well let's get home, it's raining out," Jack said, looking at the twisted metal of the car. He sincerely hoped that she would still be alright with spending the night at his house, especially since he was the one who had destroyed what she had been living in.

Rose was confused. Before, Jack had been the most loving person she had ever met. Now, he was taking her home, but seemingly only out of a sense of duty. She herself had changed, but it didn't seem possible for Jack to have changed so drastically.

She followed him as he walked away from what once had been her car. The rain was starting to fall heavier and colder. It was not long before both were completely soaked.

As a clap of thunder shook the earth they were standing on, Rose's first instinct was to hide in Jack's warmth. But as she moved toward him, she thought of his cool attitude since the car crash and thought better of it. Jack however, noticed this and put an arm around her shoulder.

"Jack?" she asked.

"We're almost there. Just take a right here and it's the third house."

Lightening continued to light up the sky as the storm grew more violent still. Trying to protect Rose as much as possible from the rain, Jack rushed up to his front door and let them in. The house was not large, nor was it completely decorated, but it was cozy, warm, and functional.

"Phew," said Jack, conversationally. "That rain was awful."

Rose smiled at his attempt to make light conversation, but knew they needed to talk. Before, they had been so free with each other. Was it simply time that had created a barrier? Had they put each other on a pedestal that was too hard to live up to?

"Jack, we need to talk."

"We do," he said somberly. He walked over to the small kitchen table and pulled out the single chair, indicating she should sit down. He never had any company, so he never had any reason to get a second chair. When Rose sat down, he hoisted himself onto the table.

After a short pause, they both spoke at once.

"Have you been a mechanic the whole time?"

"I really should have told you that I couldn't drive."

Rose was the first one to answer. "Why didn't you?"

"I guess I was just so proud of you for knowing how to drive it. I felt kind of inferior. I think I just wanted to give you something to be proud of me for."

"I'm not really proud of you for pretending, Jack."

It was the name that did it. As soon as Rose heard her own voice pronounce his name, she remembered just to whom she was talking. She had never stopped loving him, even after twenty two years. Perhaps the years had made her cynical and jaded, but she believed that she and Jack were meant to be together. Though a single lightbulb was on in the room, a flash of lightening from outside lit up his entire expression. He had made a stupid mistake, but who didn't? She thought of how her stupid mistake—crashing the car—had probably reminded Jack of Titanic. She was the only one who would truly understand everything Jack had been through that night and he would be the only one who would ever fully understand what she had gone through. She thought of what she had lived by for the last twenty two years—what she thought had been Jack's last words, his living will and testament. Jack was here now, and she would never let him go.

"I'm so sorry," Jack said.

"No, Jack, you didn't let me finish." He looked at her, almost afraid of what she might say next. "What I am proud of, is your ability to adjust to the situation. You learned how to fix cars, even though you hadn't driven one before, when you needed a job. That's what I've always tried to emulate about you.

"See, I tried so hard to go on with my life. I the first few years, I tried my hand at theatre. I joined a traveling company and toured the country with them. I enjoyed it because it reminded me of what your life was like. I learned how to act, I learned how to live without maids and all that garbage, and I even learned how to ride a horse."

"You did?" Jack asked.

Rose smiled widely, but continued her story. "When I got used to that, I got comfortable. When the stock market crashed I was out of a job and I couldn't adjust. That's why I've been living in the car for so many years. I just wasn't able to adapt to changed situations. Now I'm seeing how good you really are at it and I feel like an utter failure."

"You think too high of me," said Jack. "I haven't done one damn thing since I thought I lost you."

"You fixed my truck pretty well."

"But then I crashed it."

"You crashed it? I was the one who was trying to be a backseat driver."

"You were just trying to help me."

Their voices mimicked the storm outside as they grew louder. When they both were standing up, there was a crash of thunder and the lights flickered out. For a moment, the only sound to be heard was the heavy drops of rain hitting the roof.

"Jack!" Rose shouted. It had come out completely naturally. It had happened once before, when she had been in California. A bad storm had caused a leak in her roof, which lead to a flooded closet. It had instantly reminded her of running around below decks in the sinking ship, and her intuition had called out for Jack. That night, she had cried herself to sleep, mourning that she would never see him again. Now, the power had gone out in a similar storm, and she called for him once again. Only this time, his arms were immediately around her.

"I know, Rose. I've got ya." He knew exactly what this reminded her of, because it reminded him of Titanic too. His arms felt right where hey belonged when they immediately found their way to Rose. They both knew that their petty argument had not been magically forgotten, but perhaps they could start the night over again.

Jack took Rose's hand firmly and led her toward the living room. "There should be matches and candles in here," he said.

Rose clutched his fingers tightly and leaned into his body. She loved him so much. Even when they had been arguing, she had never really doubted that. Now was her chance to fix what had happened over the last twenty two years.

She heard a scratching noise and immediately saw Jack's face lit up by the orangey glow of a lit match.

"I don't know exactly where the candles are, but they're somewhere in the shelf next to you. Can you help me look?" Jack asked.

Though their search was hindered a bit by they clutched hands, as well as Jack's need to relight the match a few times, They eventually found two small candles and holders. When they were lit, the two fell into an embrace. When they kissed, it felt as if they were still the kids that had madly fallen in love in less than three days.

They both realized that twenty two years had, indeed, passed, and soon they would need to discuss what had taken place. But now they could just be together. With no fiances, no sinking ships, no class distinction. Just two kids who had fallen in love in less than three days and waited for each other for nearly a quarter century.

"Let's get warmed up," Jack said as he felt Rose shiver against him. He showed her to the bedroom with a candle in his hand. Rose was a little bit nervous at his implication, especially since she had been with a man exactly once in her life. But she was mostly excited. She valued the time she had spent in that car with Jack in her dreams and in her memories. If it could happen like that again, Rose would never want to leave.

When they arrived at the door to Jack's bedroom, however, it appeared that his plans were slightly different.

"There's clothes in the dresser. Take whatever you want and I'll make us a pot of coffee."

Rose was a bit frustrated with his chivalry, but giggled at how differently she had taken the phrase "get warmed up." Holding the candle to the dark room, she opened Jack's dresser with a bit of curiosity. It was not bare, but only a few plain shirts rested in the drawer. The bed was unmade, with a stack of old books sitting next to it. The room was kept neat with the exception of plaid pajama pants on the floor. Rose knew that Jack's clothes, especially his pants, would not fit her well, so she carefully dug through his drawers. When she found her selected articles, she peeled off her wet clothes and placed them on the windowsill.

It felt strange and yet intimate to be wearing Jack's clothes. It was the type of action that she imagined she would do if she had married him all those years ago. Only when she was so intimately acquainted with someone would she feel comfortable walking around in his clothes.

Jack was adding the water to his coffee pot by the light of a candle when he looked up to see Rose leaving his bedroom wearing—Oh Lord—she was wearing an old shirt and his underwear. He felt the physical signs of his passion for her for the first time in years and years. She slithered up next to him and kissed him squarely. This was the spontaneous Rose he remembered. The one he loved so much.

"I love you, Rose."

When he saw the shocked expression, he realized it was the first time she had heard it.

"I love you too, Jack," she said, and kissed him intensely.

When the kiss ended, she kissed his cheek once again. "Now you go change your clothes," she said. He took one of the candles and walked into his bedroom. Rose turned off the coffee pot, picked up the other candle, and followed him.

"You know, I've always had this fantasy involving you and candlelight," she said absolutely wickedly as the door swung open.