Chapter Four

November 8th, 1912
New York City, New York

When Rose finally made it home from work, night time had already cascaded across the city. She staggered through the door with a paper bag of groceries balanced on her hip and fumbled for the lamp beside the door. The light softly illuminated the room and she looked around, almost expectingly. Rose let out a long sigh and hauled the groceries into the kitchen, putting everything away in the cupboards and ice box. She undressed from her dirty waitress uniform and hung it on the bathroom door. She'd have to wear it again tomorrow, she hadn't found time to wash her clothes. Rose sifted through her closet for something comfortable to wear and paused when she came across a men's white button up. Her slender fingers ran along the cotton sleeve slowly. She had it bought awhile back ago, to wear around the house. It was much too big on her, but it felt comforting. She liked to pretend it had belonged to Jack. She ripped the shirt down from the hanger and buttoned it up over her, heading back towards the living room.

Rose parted the curtains and gazed up at the array of stars scattered across the sky. She pushed the window open to allow the crisp cool breeze of autumn to waft into her apartment. She then lit a few candles on the coffee table, precariously balancing them on books, and seated herself criss-cross on the floor in front of the table. She folded her hands together, pressing her elbows to the table. Her eyes lingered on the folder in front of her that had flickering shadows licking across it. Rose opened the folder and gazed down on the birth certificate once more. The only document she had allowed herself to read. She couldn't even begin to guess what else lay beneath the birth certificate. She closed the folder just as fast, the wind of the cover causing a candle to waver before becoming steady again.

Tears filled her eyes and she lowered her head. Her salty tears dripped off the end of her nose as she choked on her sorrow in the middle of her living room. She rubbed furiously at her eyes as they became scorchingly red and hot. Her lips quivered as she looked towards the window, outwards to the sky.

Where to, Miss?

"To the stars..." Rose whispered, her voice cracking. She took in a deep uneven breath, her lungs rattling as still, the tears continued down her flushed face, "Happy birthday, Jack," She said, her lips barely moving. Her eyes came to rest on a candle flickering in front of her and she sighed all over again, "I know it's your birthday... and I don't want to spoil such a precious day, but Jack," She shook her head, fresh tears brimming her eyes, "I'm still angry. I'm still sad. I'm still asking all these questions," Rose grabbed the candle and pulled it close to her. She then stood and walked to the window, looking out while cradling the flame in her palms, "Why did I survive? What made me so special compared to you? You're a masterpiece compared to me. I've always been nothing but a mess, a catatonic shell. But you? You could take the weight of the world on your shoulders and feel no burden at all. You were a perfect human-being. Why did you have to die?" She set the candle on the windowsill and leaned against the cool wall, looking down on the dark street, "It's so unfair..." She muttered, her tear stained cheeks taut, "You'd probably laugh at me... tell me that's the way it is. Life is unfair. You'd say, "c'est la vie", and that'd be the end of the problem."

She pressed her back flat to the wall, gazing around her dark, lonely apartment, "You were so special," She continued in a volume no louder than a whisper, "You were the answer to every thing wrong in my life, Jack. Why did you have to go?" She lowered her eyes to the carpet, "In the three days I knew you... how could you possibly impact me this much? It's absolutely maddening," She pressed her hand to her forehead, nearly feverently, "You haunt me. Three days, seventy-two hours, that's all it took, Jack," Slowly, she pushed away from the wall and took small steps in no particular direction. She took the time to let her feet sink against the plush carpet beneath her.

Rose sighed and stopped again, now standing behind the couch. She tilted her back to look towards the ceiling, "If I could see you one more time, I don't even know what I would say to you. I feel like there's so much I need to tell you. A lifetime wouldn't have even been long enough for us, Jack. I would give anything to hear your voice one more time... your laugh..." Her voice faltered again as fresh tears sprung to her eyes. Rose staggered into the back of the couch, pressing her sticky palms to her hot face, "Your damned smile... those blue eyes... oh, Jack," Her chest began rising and falling, "Who am I kidding? I'm not fooling anybody, acting like I'm just fine. I can't even convince myself. Jack, I'm not okay. I really am not. Without you, I'm not sure I'll ever feel okay again," She felt her throat constrict, her vocal cords throbbing unpleasantly. She slid down against the side of the couch, thunking onto her knees on the ground. Her shoulders deflated and she resigned to allowing her arms to fall limp in her lap.

She took in a deep breath, her eyes glued to the carpet. Rose huffed, blinking rapidly, as finally the tears began to dry. She fidgeted absent-mindedly at the hem of her button-up, feeling absolutely pathetic and meek in that moment. Rose lifted her eyes to stare ahead, towards the front door. She focused intently, trying to will a knock. She tried to imagine Jack at her door, announcing his presence. But, the apartment remained still and quiet.

Rose finally decided to get to her feet. She closed the window, feeling absolutely sapped of all energy. She blew all the candles out except for one. Slowly, her slender fingers came down and grasped the warm glass, lifting it to eye level. She admired the flame licking up and down before she sighed again, "Happy Birthday, Jack..." Rose then blew the candle out, encasing herself in darkness.

...

December 1st, 1912
New York City, New York

Rose barrelled through the door to the diner, flinging her hair from her face, which had snowflakes caught in the curls. She let out a sign of relief as she entered the quiet and warm restaraunt, securely closing the door behind her. The sun was just beginning to rise on the frozen city. Rose's cheeks and nose were balbous red as she pressed her hands against the cool glass, watching a frenzy of leaves dance through the intersection.

"Ho, ho, ho!" Came a deep chuckle from behind. Rose let out a screech, pressing herself against the door in fright, looking towards the voice with wide green eyes. She relaxed, however, when she realized it was simply Winston in a red and black plaid shirt, tucked into green slacks. His face was covered in white fuzz, which looked to Rose to be batting for a quilt. He was wheezing with laughter, pulling the fuzz from his face, "Did I scare ya? Sorry, doll. How do you like my St. Nicholas get-up?"

"It's... very festive," Rose said, a crooked grin spreading across her face.

"Ah, just the word I was going for," Winston looked pleased as he arranged the fuzz over his face again, "This is what I'm going to look like for the rest of December. Well, at least until we make it to Christmas."

"That's not itchy?" Rose cocked an eyebrow up.

"As all get-out," Winston chuckled, "I want to get people in the mood, though! The holiday spirit always makes people spend more."

Rose laughed, brushing past Winston and going behind the bar to pour herself some coffee. Garlands hung festively from the ceiling and along the edge of the bar. It made the entire diner smell like pine trees. Deep inside, her stomach tossed and turned as the aroma reminded her of Jack. Of Wisconsin. Of everything she had lost. She held her hands steady as she drank her coffee, eager to feel something warm inside of her chilled body.

"So," Winston said, drawing Rose away from the coffee maker. She turned to face him now. He had discarded his fake beard on the bar and was leaned up against it with his typical good-natured smile, "how have you been enjoyin' ol' tall, dark, and handsome?"

Rose lowered her eyes for a few moments. Her and Tim actually hadn't spent anymore time together since her neighbor's birthday. She still saw him every day, but she hadn't further intiated anything. Rose was certain Tim was growing tired waiting for her. She nearly hoped he would move on. She wasn't ready to give herself away so quickly again. She wasn't ready to confront all the skeletons in her closet. She knew if she progressed with Tim, those things would have to come out. She was nervous at the thought of releasing those inner demons. Rose was certain they needed to remain locked deep into the pits of her heart.

Winston's smile had receded now as he looked at his employee, "You haven't seen him again outside of work, have you?" Rose resorted to simply shaking her head. Winston sighed, glancing towards the vacant diner. He rounded the bar and came beside Rose, wrapping his arm around her wiry shoulders and pulling her in close, "You know I care about you, right?"

"Of course, Winston," Rose said, her eyes still glued to her coffee.

"And you know I would never try to pry, right?"

"Yes," Rose nodded stiffly again.

"I worry about you sometimes, Rose," Winston looked towards the dark windows as the sun had yet to make an appearance for the day, "Ever since you've started workin' here, you haven't once come to a co-worker's party or dinner. There's a wall, I can feel it. I don't know what brought you to New York City... I don't know if you ran away from something, but I feel like you did. You're hiding from the entire world, doll. It breaks my heart seeing someone as young as you already feeling defeated. You have so much potential and you're letting it wither away right in front of you."

Rose's throat closed and pulsated uncomfortably. She was trembling in Winston's arms. She watched the ripples run across her coffee. Slowly, she lifted her wet eyes to look at Winston, "I'm still running, it feels like."

"What can I do to help?" Winston asked, "How do I fix this?"

Rose shook her head, "I... don't know. Don't you think I wouldn't seem this way if I knew how? Every day, I just feeling this terrible- dreadful- feeling. Like something is missing."

"And what's missing?" Winston pressed.

Rose closed her eyes, her heart beating wildly in her chest. For the first time in eight months, she was about to speak his name to somebody else. She exhaled unevenly and looked directly at Winston, "His name was Jack... Jack Dawson."

"Your husband?" Winston asked, cocking a bushy eyebrow up.

"No," Rose shook her head, "he wasn't."

"Brother?"

"No," Rose said again, "he was just... very dear to me. He saved my life, Winston."

"Well, where is he now?" Winston asked.

Rose looked out to the empty diner, her eyes resting on the booth Tim would be occupying in the next hour. Finally, she looked back to her boss.

"He's dead."