Rose sets a ticking kitchen timer for forty minutes and then lays down on the couch, exhausted. Since seeing that man on the street the day before, memories of Jack and Titanic had been brought to the surface, and she hadn't gotten much sleep. Luckily she had only worked the early lunch shift this morning and had some time to catch a nap before leaving to pick Josephine up from school. It was the end of the week, and she usually took Josephine to the diner as a treat for dinner with Mrs. Richardson, and her son Will, who was only a few years older than Jo.

She had barely dozed off when she hears a knocking at the front door, which is very odd. The house wasn't exactly close to town, and they never got unplanned visitors. Rushing upright, Rose tries her best to smooth out the skirts of her dress, knowing that her hair, still mostly up in its top knot is a lost cause. Upon opening the door she is surprised to see her boss and friend whom she had just left half an hour before.

"Miranda." She says, her confusion apparent. "Did I leave something behind?"

The older woman, probably in her fifties, gives her a look that Rose can only describe as sympathetic. "No, my dear. I've just come to let you know that I'll be collecting Josephine from school this afternoon, and she'll be spending the night. I'm afraid something has come up that will require your attention for the rest of the evening."

"Miranda, what.." She's silenced by a hand on her shoulder.

"Trust me, Rose, you'll thank me later. Come, collect a change of clothes and some night things for Josephine, and and then all your questions will answer themselves," her friend tells her, stepping inside the small farm house, and watching as a confused Rose hurries up the stairs and emerges again with a ruck sack of her daughters things, handing it over.

"Now," says Mrs. Richardson, "I am going to leave, and someone is going to come around the corner, and I think you should be sitting down, dear. It may be quite a shock."

With that Mrs. Richardson is leaving again, with a rather smug smile on her face.

"What on earth?" Rose speaks to herself, still confused. Suddenly from around the corner comes the man that Rose had seen the day before, his head still down and hands in his coat pockets. He's not in a full uniform, but Rose is sure its the same man, and as he approaches the steps up onto her porch her breath stops in her throat, and she has to clutch at the doorway to stay upright. It's Jack. There's no doubt about it this time, and he looks just as surprised.

She's not sure what to say as she continues to cling to the doorframe, her knuckles turning white, and she's glad that he has now looked up, climbing the stairs before stopping in front of her.

"Rose." His eyes are full of wonder and sadness at the same time, and he has paused in his tracks as well, gripping the railing of the stairs.

She can't help the sob that escapes her lips unbidden. This wonderful man, whom she had believed to be truly gone and had mourned with everything in her was standing right there, just a few feet away, and it was like seeing a ghost, only she knew that her imagination couldn't picture him this vividly, nor make him grow up at all from the young man she had known, but here he was, still tall, still tan, still with the same soul searching eyes, but he was also different; older. His hair is slightly shorter and looking like it was growing back from a military cut, and was slicked back messily with a few strands falling out of place, and he had a beard now, or rather, a goatee, cut close around his chin with some stubble growing back on his cheeks and jaw. His shoulders and chest are broader and more muscled, and when he does take another step forward she notices that he does walk with a limp, as the man she had observed yesterday had.

"Rose," he says again, as if its the only word he knows. He's reaching for her now with one hand, and that breaks the spell. Within seconds her arms are around his neck as she clings to him on the porch, still sobbing hysterically.

"Jack! Jack you're alive! I thought I lost you forever— I thought…"

His arms wrap soundly around her waist, lifting her slightly off her feet as he hugs her back just as strongly, kissing the side of her head and breathing her in. "I'm here, Rose. I'm so sorry! I'm here now."

After a minute or two he loosens his grip, setting her down and pulling back to look at her. His hand finds its way to her face to wipe away her tears as they just keep coming, and she knows her face is probably turning red and swollen now.

She's aware that she looks different now, just as he does, and she's conscious of his eyes drinking her in. She has lost some weight around the middle from working more and eating less frequently, that she knows, but her figure has also filled out differently since having a child; her hips are wider, and her breasts a bit less perky. Her hair is still just as vibrant though, and her posture is still regal, even if she now clothed herself in simple work dresses, and she has a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose from no longer hiding from the sun, that haven't faded even in the middle of winter.

Gazing at him some more she notices that while his features haven't changed much, he's starting to get laugh lines around his eyes and mouth the creases in his forehead and between his eyebrows have deepened.

There's also a scar on his left jawbone that hadn't been there before, and while he is by no means sad, there is a somber air to him now. He is still wearing a uniform jacket, so perhaps that thing they said about the war changing everybody was true. She knew that if she hadn't had Josephine to care for she would have signed up as a nurse herself.

— — — —

They probably would have continued to stand out in the cold staring at each other if it hadn't been for Rose's timer suddenly going off and breaking the spell.

"Just a minute!" she exclaims, darting inside and grabbing the thing off of the coffee table and turning it off as Jack watches from the doorway with a clear view into the sitting room.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" he asks, now fully aware of how abruptly he had shown up unannounced. He could have at least sent a note ahead or something, but once he had found out she was alive and here, he hadn't wanted to waste another minute. He hadn't stopped to consider what she may be doing, or even whom she may be with. He seemed to have lucked out that she was indeed alone.

"Oh, no," she says, returning, with a bit of a blush on her cheeks. "Honestly, I had just laid down for a nap and the timer was to keep me from oversleeping.

Jack nods, hovering in the threshold, and noting that with the dark circles under her eyes she did indeed look pretty tired. He wants to step closer to her again, but doesn't want to overstep any boundaries they may have after ten lost years, and while this had once been his house and home, now it belonged to her.

She arches an eyebrow, picking up on his hesitance, and just asks, "Are you going to come in?" as if its not really a question at all. That's all it takes for him to step fully inside, and she closes the door behind her as he looks around. Much of the main room looks just as he had left it at fifteen years old, and he's not sure if he should be glad about that, or a little sad. The walls are still a mix of exposed brick and light victorian brocade wallpaper that his mother had loved. The furniture was still the same, as was much of the art on the walls, a lot of it his own. Rose had added some art, though, as well as some greenery, and there were now electric lights instead of oil lamps. Being back in this space doesn't quite feel real to Jack, especially when his gaze lands back onto Rose who is watching him look around. Suddenly he himself is feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Can I get you something, Jack?" She asks from her place by the door. She's full of nervous energy. "Coffee, or tea?"

"Coffee would be good," he says, noticing how dry his throat has gotten with all of his nerves. He follows her into the kitchen and watches as she expertly prepares a percolator with coffee grounds on a stove that is not completely up to date, but newer than the one his family had owned. Looking around, he notices a newer electric icebox, or refrigerator as they were now called, as well, but everything else looks much the same. As he watches Rose at the stovetop he wonders how hard it had been for her to adjust to this life; not only to the new environment, and the people she was around now, but to having to cook and clean and do everything herself. He had never doubted her abilities, but still, he was aware that a lot of these tasks must have been first times for her, and she really looks as if she's done well for herself.

She spies him watching her again, and he doesn't even have to say what he's thinking. "It's easier than I thought; cooking. Of course, I'm still no fine chef, and working in a diner gave me a real leg up." She hands him a mug of coffee and pours one for herself, and they both sit at the small round kitchen table. "Of course, I didn't have much of a choice. It was either learn, or starve, and with Josephine on the way, that wasn't really an option."

Josephine. Murphy had mentioned a child, and so had Mrs. Richardson, but this was the first he was hearing a name, and Rose's choice left his breath caught in his throat. "J-Josephine?" he asks, setting down his mug, and Rose meets his eye with a serious expression.

"Did Mrs. Richardson not tell you?" She asks, and for a moment he sees fear cross her features.

"She, uh, she and Mr. Murphy both mentioned a child. They didn't tell me a name though." He wants to ask the question in the forefront of his mind but doesn't know how to phrase it right so as not to offend her, but he has to know. "Is she…"

"Yours?" Rose responds, her green blue eyes not leaving his. "Yes. She is every bit yours… ours. She's more like you every day, and she is what has kept me alive, Jack."

"So that one night…" Jack says, in awe. He had never thought after all this time that he would ever have a child, let alone already have one with the woman he had loved and thought he had lost forever.

Rose nods. "She just turned nine. She's a brilliant artist, Jack, just like you, with your eyes and height and desire for adventure." She stands to retrieve a small photo in a frame from a side table, and hands it to him.

The photo is black and white, so he can't tell hair color, but the child in the picture, maybe about seven years old, looks like the perfect mix of himself and Rose. She has his eyes and hair line, and her nose and smile, and he's glad to see that she looks like a very happy child. Suddenly he feels guilty for having a child he had never known of and of not being around for the birth, or there to watch her grow. He hates that he has missed so much of Rose's life, and now Josephine's, and he wants to know absolutely everything.

"When did you find out you were pregnant?" he asks, setting the photo down in front of himself, and taking a sip of his coffee, trying to appear calm despite the mass of emotions he's feeling inside. "I looked for you everywhere, Rose. You weren't on the list… how did you survive? How did you get here?" He had so many questions.

"I could ask you the same thing," she replies with a sigh, and he swallows again.

"I guess we have a lot to talk about."