It's a fanfiction miracle! An old abandoned dead story returns and rises from the grave. Zombie fanfiction? After years of getting reviews for this story you all guilt tripped me into updating. The power of the people. I'll stop talking now.

Rose still was in shock, staring at the photo that was wobbling in her feeble hands. Jack's alive. How? She had to be dreaming. This can't be real…. A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Andrew entered, slightly flushed, looking as if he was about to burst with an exciting secret. "I just received a letter and you'll never believe what it says!"

Rose looked up at him quizzically. "A letter?"

"Remember last month you asked me to send out letters to different directors about a new role for you after you finished shooting your last film?"

"Yes…" Rose vaguely remembered nodding when Andrew asked her if she'd like him to send out letters for her.

"Well we got a reply and you've been offered a part! The show starts in two weeks!"

"That's great, Andrew!" Rose said trying to act enthused. For an actress, she was doing a terribly poor job of doing so.

"The best part is, it's some new Broadway show! It's incredible, a type of acting you haven't tried yet, it'll be great. The director wants you on a train tomorrow so you can start rehearsals so I packed some things for you to"-

"What?" Rose cut him off. "A train? Where is this located?"

"New York…"

Rose paled. Jack. He's somewhere in the area. She had to find him. "Andrew, I can't."

"What?" Andrew was taken aback. "But imagine what this role will do for your career!"

"I can't, something important has come up. I need to stay here."

Andrew looked down at the ground and shuffled his feet. "Oh, well I sort of already told them you'd take the part."

Rose's stomach twisted into a knot. She couldn't leave, not now, not when she was this close to finding him.

"Look, I'll write the director back, and tell him you can't do the part, but can you at least go to New York for now, so they can have someone until they fill the part?"

Rose hesitated, she couldn't leave, but it wasn't fair to the people in New York either and she couldn't just abandon her career. She had told Andrew to send those letters looking for a new job. "Ok," she agreed, "I'll go to New York."

Sunlight streamed through the open windows. Jack moaned and blindly felt around for his pillow to pull over his eyes to stop his head from pounding. Where is that damn pillow? It wasn't there… His arm fell a few feet off the narrow thing he was lying on. He tried to roll over, but came face to face with a wall of cushions. A couch? This wasn't his bed… Where am I? Prison, for sure…. Jack thought, not wanting to open his eyes. I bet that son of a bitch bartender called the cops and got me arrested. Jack opened his eyes ready to cuss out some cops. The strong light caused a searing pain to shoot through his skull. "Uhhhh…" he moaned, "I'm gonna be sick." He squinted his eyes to see his surroundings. No bars or cold concrete cell, well that was a good sign. It seemed like a small moderately decorated apartment that belonged to a-

"Hiya Jack, see ya finally woke up!"

Woman? He was in a woman's apartment? But he would never…not after he lost Rose. She came closer and he slightly opened his eyes a bit more to get a better look. Molly Brown? "Molly?" he asked.

"Why yes, I see you don't remember how I found ya stumblin' down the street last night and brought ya back to my place to sober up."

Jack raised his eyebrows in thought, trying to grasp any vague memory of the previous night. It was useless.

"So how's life in America been treatin' ya?"

Jack suppressed a dry and bitter remark. Could she not see the state he was in? Dirty, probably reeking of alcohol since he couldn't remember the last time he had showered. He was barely making it by, trying to earn wages only to blow them on alcohol. Most nights he spent crashed out in some pub, other nights he'd manage to make his way back to his dark, damp one room apartment where he'd usually collapse upon walking in the door. "Not as well as I expected."

"You're just as bad as Ruth…"

Ruth? The name seemed fairly familiar to Jack, but he couldn't grasp where he had heard the name.

"Just be thankful. We're survivors, Jack. We were given another chance to live for something, don't ya think?"

Jack felt himself becoming angry, "Yes, but all the people who died. I can't stop hearing their screams… I can't stop feeling guilty. If only I had… maybe we'd both still be here- and"- Jack buried his face in his hands.

"Rose? Ruth's been beating herself up about it too."

Just then a bedroom door opened and a slender woman with red curly hair walked out. She looked at the figure on the couch. "I wasn't aware we were having a guest, Molly," she said, tying her worn silk robe tighter around her waist. She made her way to the kitchen and filled a kettle with water placing it on the stove.

Jack looked up to observe the new comer. Her red hair was haphazardly pulled back into a braid. Her hair appeared to be thinning and wrinkles lined her face. Her lips were pulled down at the corners giving her a constant saddened look and her blue eyes seemed to be darkened with guilt. He studied her face longer and then knew who she was, Ruth, Rose's mother.

After a few moments of silence, Ruth turned to Molly, well aren't you going to introduce me to our visitor?

"Oh!" Molly exclaimed, "Surely you remember Mr. Dawson."

Ruth looked at him puzzled, but as he brushed his hair out of his eyes, she pursed her lips upon recognition. "How could I forget?" She stared at him intensely while waiting for her water to boil. Jack sensed that she blamed him for her daughter's death.

"Um, Molly," Jack said, feeling uncomfortable, "where's your washroom?"

"Oh it's down the hall to the left, sonny." Jack left the tense room, as quickly as his migraine would let him.

There were three knocks on the apartment door. Molly crossed to open it and gasped when she met the tall man with slicked black hair on the other side. "Cal?"

"Ms. Brown," he greeted, a fake smile plastered on his face as he side stepped Molly and entered the apartment. "Oh, Ruth! I was hoping I'd find you here. I came to tell you that your daughter sends her condolences that she didn't write sooner."

Ruth gasped and her hands flew to her mouth. The kettle started to shriek and boil. "You found her?"

"Rose is alive?" Molly asked, shocked. "-Well this is fantastic news! Where'd you see her?"

"In her office. I saw her movie posters plastered all around town, at first I didn't think it was her since she changed her last name to that filthy rat's last name, Dawson" Cal sneered.

"How is she?" Ruth started firing off questions, clinging to the hope that this wasn't a dream and that her daughter, was in fact, alive.

"She seemed…well. As stubborn as usual."

"Why… why didn't she contact me… I'm her mother..." Ruth quietly asked herself. "What does this mean about the wedding?"

Just then, a door down the hallway opened and a blonde pale man walked into the living room. "She's alive?" he asked hoarsely.

Cal squinted his eyes at the man scrutinizing him, then started laughing bitterly, realizing what he had just done.