"John?"

The sweet natured voice searched around the back of the tall, stone building. The young woman's eyes sparkled as she found her target resting on a dirty curbside, pad and pencil in hand. His gaze was focused intensely upon an elderly women sitting just inside a nearby window. As she approached, she saw that he had created a new masterpiece. He had been sketching her, the image almost completed on the paper resting on his lap. The woman in the image wore a wishful expression, seemingly lost in thought. Her lips were turned downward just slightly as though she had experienced a loss. A loss Rachel knew John related too despite his lack of memory.

"John?" She reached out tentatively to touch his arm. He never jumped when caught unaware. He never gave an appearance of fear. He merely turned to look at her and the smile took a little longer to form.

"I've been looking everywhere for you, but I should have known to come out here first. Mark's been asking where you are. You said you'd only be gone for thirty."

The smile faltered as he looked back down at the drawing.

"Musta lost track of time again."

"Sometimes I wonder if you were this bad before you lost that memory of yours."

There was a hint of playfulness in her voice, but the seriousness of his situation never lessened. It was eating him away, and she couldn't save him.

It had been three years since the miracle recovery. He had been near frantic to get well and out of the constant care of the nurses and doctors who were firmly set on getting him cured. Physically, one could hardly tell he had been so near death. Emotionally, he was confused and anxious to the point of exhaustion. The memories seemed so close at times, only to drift out of reach the next second. Often, he would wake from a mix of nightmares to dreams he longed never to wake from. He never remembered them.

The charities directed by the city were welcomed by many of the Titanic passengers. John found himself offered a number of small end jobs to regain anything of the life he possibly had before the disaster. Despite the events, he paid no mind to living near the water. In fact the sea air was refreshing to say the least. There was something about it that calmed him. Something he knew he couldn't leave yet. He had taken a position as a driver for a small cargo distributor. Rachel had offered it to him. Mostly fabrics and imported goods from England. It was a respectable job delivering to fairly classy areas of the low-end upper class. He took the position to heart and within a year's time had worked his way into supervision.

The young woman continued to watch him with a hint of worry. She decided to cover it up with a smile, as so often happened. He made no move to stand, so she opted to settle carefully at his side. Her tanned skirt was carefully pulled and the surface checked for anything that would mar it.

"She has a young woman that visits every so many days," he said quietly. The woman had moved from the window yet he still watched. "She might be family, yet she never stays. She brings her some money. Sometimes clothes. The two of them always become so happy during that time, but then it's done. She goes back to looking so lonely."

"I know that look," Rachel commented. Her pale blue eyes caught his for a brief moment when he turned. "Even in a room full of people, I can see it in your eyes. How many years will you do this to yourself?"

She had to look away then. Emotions she had learned to push aside attempted to hide once more. This time she would say something though. Not all she wanted to, but something.

"You have so much you could do with your life. Something to make with yourself. You have a chance here for a family. Isn't that something you'd want? I…," she bit her lip anxiously, fearing she was talking too much. "I wonder if you aren't pushing that aside in hopes for a dream. A memory that isn't coming back. I'm sorry if I'm being too bold, but I'd like to think I have earned it. How many years more will I stand by your side before you even notice I'm here? I'm not a dream, John. Will you ever give me the chance to show you?"

She hadn't meant to say so much. Her face felt flush with embarrassment as she stood once more to make her way to the warehouse.

John watched her leave wishing he could have comforted her in some way. Told her what it was she wanted to hear. She was in love with him. She had been for some time. She was from a respectable family. She was beautiful to say the least. He would be lucky to have her as a wife. So why couldn't he let her in?

He looked down at the woman's portrait he had so recently done. Drawing had come natural, as though he had done it for years. Mostly people. He loved to learn their stories, as though the images would capture them for eternity. He turned the page to one created the day before. When the young woman had come to visit. She didn't often go near the window for him to see clearly, until yesterday. Even then, it was only a short time. He drew most of the image after she had left, it practically created itself. Her curled hair. If only he could have shown its red hue. The shape of her lips. The eyes that seemed to shine with life. And yet…

He closed the pad. It was time to go back to work. One last look at the empty window confirmed his decision to go visit when he next had a chance.