Chapter 2

She was surrounded by the red oak wood paneled walls of the small space that was her dressing room. The light of the oil lamps illuminated the room giving it a soft warm glow. Rose sat at her vanity mirror, carefully applying her makeup and adding the finishing touches to her hair, pulling it up into a messy bun. Outside her room was complete chaos, women scrambling in their undergarments for wardrobe and wigs, one of them was frantically searching for her other shoe, some of the other actors stood off to the side rehearsing the lines of their scripts. It was a typical evening at the Playhouse.

Rose heard the deep resonating voice of the great Henry Winchester, owner of the Playhouse walking through the halls calling out like a conductor on a train. Despite the chaotic chatter Henry had a voice that would make a foghorn jealous and he never had a problem speaking over people. He had a habit of talking loudly even when it wasn't necessary.

"Ten minutes, everyone, ten minutes, curtain goes up in ten minutes!"

"Ten minutes, Ms. Dawson," he said poking his head into Rose's room. Rose looked into her mirror to see him looking at her. He was a large man with a head of short blonde hair that was combed neatly to the side and a thick blonde beard with spots of white. His nose was hooked and narrow with laugh lines arcing on both sides. His eyes were small and were decorated with round wrinkles and crows feet that hid underneath a pair of thick bushy eyebrows. He was dressed in a black tuxedo that clearly looked to be too small for him. The buttons were straining so much against his big round belly that if he inhaled too deeply Rose thought they might pop.

"Thank you Henry, I'll be ready in a moment." She said while pinning the last few loose strands of hair.

As always, just before every show, Rose felt the nauseating feeling of butterflies filling her stomach. Anxiety gripped her. Her hands were shaking. She shouldn't be nervous, she's done this countless times before.

"Don't worry darlin', you're gonna do just fine."

"You really think so?"

"C'mon now gal, stop fishing for compliments." He said walking over and giving her a hard pat on the back that nearly knocked the wind out of her. "Of course you're gonna do well; Ya never let us down before. You're a natural."

"Fishing for compliments" was a phrase Henry would often say to her whenever Rose began to doubt her abilities. The phrase meaning that she was criticizing herself to make someone praise her.

She let out a frustrated grunt "I just can't seem to stop shaking."

"Just stay calm. What have I told you? If at any moment should you feel nervous or scared just focus on someone in the audience and imagine that you're performing just for them."

That made her smile a little.

"I tell ya Rose, when you're acting on that stage it really does seem like you are in another place. Why I remember…what was the name that play?

"'Gabrielle's Choice'?" she offered

"No, no it wasn't that one. I reckon it was um..." Henry snapped his fingers trying to jog his memory. "'Casualties of Love,' yes that was the one. A spectacular performance we sold out every show. I think my favorite scene was when you and Michael were on stage and as he lay dying you held him in your arms, clutching him to your breast. Your emotions were so raw, so authentic, and so real. I really felt it. You made me believe that you had truly lost your lover. I don't think there was a single dry eye in the audience. It was magnificent."

"Yes," she said distantly, "that was one of my favorites as well." Rose didn't know what to do with her hands so she picked up her blush and started dabbing it on her face.

"Is somethin' else troubling you darlin'?"

"No, I'm fine."

"You know that you can talk to me about anything, I'm not one to pry, but if there's anything you want to talk about you know I'm here, anything at all. It doesn't necessarily have to be about the play."

"I'm fine, Henry." She said with small titter of laughter, "Honest."

"Alright then."

"Mr. Winchester!" said a young man bursting through door. He was a tall and gangly youth of 18 with brown hair.

"Damn it boy, don't you know how to knock?"

"Yes, yes I do sir, but the door was open and I—I heard your voice and-"

"Brian what in the sam hell are you doin' back here, you're supposed to be out front distributing the tickets!"

"Well yes sir I know, I was just coming back here to tell you we've sold out, the theater is full, we're ready to start. Also we've had a tiny problem out front."

"What kind of problem?"

"Some bloke tried to muscle past me, without a ticket. He practically demanded that I let him in without pay. Said he knew Ms. Dawson and had to see her, he was rather hostile, he was. I had to threaten to notify the authorities before he finally decided to leave."

That caught Rose's attention "What?"

"Were you expecting someone tonight darlin'?"

Apart from Rose's neighbors, Nancy and her husband Charlie, she hadn't been expecting anyone. She couldn't imagine who it could be.

"Did he say who he was?" Rose asked suddenly curious

"No, didn't give a name. It was strange the man was out of breath like he had ran a mile and it looked like he was having a hard time standing on his own two legs.

"Probably some poor drunken bastard." Henry said with a dismissive hand. "Thank you Brian return to your duties. On your way out be sure to tell the technicians to start dimming the lights we're ready to start." Brian gave a quick nod and walked out the door.

Henry knelt down in front of Rose and took her hand in his. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Henry..." She said playfully

He flung his hands up in a defensive gesture "Alright, Alright, you're fine, I understand." He took hold of her hand again and gave a gentle double pat on her wrist."

"Knock 'em dead"

It took some time for Jack to get accustomed to being back in his own body. It felt strange. His legs still felt like jelly. Had he the strength he would have pushed passed that guy at the ticket booth and the security officers at the door but in his current condition he found it a chore to simply stand. But Jack wasn't giving up that easily. Morana had been true to her word and he was thankful for her gift. The moment she snapped her fingers, Jack found himself waking up in the middle of the street with a crowd of people surrounding him in shock. Morana was even nice enough to give him a nice black suit for this occasion. Jack wasn't too fond of suits he thought them too confining. It even came with a tie. He hated the tie and didn't waste any time yanking it off and loosening a couple of the buttons on the white shirt. Even his hair was slicked back. He didn't have a mirror so he just mussed it over until he felt it was to his liking. Jack ran around for what seemed like forever, asking people for the address to the Actor's Playhouse. When he finally got there he wasn't allowed in, not without a ticket anyway.

He was determined. Jack snuck around back through the alleyway and climbed an iron staircase on the side of the building that led to an oak door bathed underneath the light of a small porch light. Jack thought it was a bit of a stretch that the door would be open but he figured he would take his chances. He scaled the steps but not without difficulty. As he suspected the door was locked. He took a deep breath and with all his strength he jammed his shoulder right into the door. It hurt like hell, but he did it again. The third time, the door finally gave way and Jack fell in. He didn't know where he was but he imagined he was somewhere backstage. He could hear the sound of echoed voices nearby and every now and the then the low rumble of laughter from the audience. He followed the voices, sneaking past the technicians and other workers backstage. The voices got louder and Jack knew he was getting closer. At last he found himself standing off stage behind the thick red curtain. He was careful not to expose himself too much or risk someone seeing him.

There she was, as beautiful as ever. But her looks had matured so much since the last time he saw her, and it made her all the more mesmerizing. Arms folded across his chest he watched her in awe, with a crooked smile on his face. She was doing it, she was really doing it. She was an actress. Jack wasn't really paying attention to what the play was about he had been watching her the entire time. She was a natural. Watching her smile and laugh was such a thrill. He thought his heart would burst. Jack couldn't wait to see her after the play. He visualized their reunion. He would be kissing her she would be kissing him. They wouldn't be able to take their hands off of each other. She would be crying, no doubt having tons of questions to ask him. He had no idea how he would explain to her how he got here. What would he say? Hello Rose, I'm back from the dead but death gave me a second chance to come and see you, so here I am, but I only get one month and then I'll have to go back. Yes, that will definitely clear things up. Who was he kidding? It would probably be best not to tell her, but how else would he explain it? Maybe he would just fake ignorance.

After a couple of hours the cast took their bow, the curtain fell and the play ended. Jack moved quickly to get out of the way before anyone could see him. He saw the cast members disperse to their dressing rooms and he closely followed behind Rose to hers. Jack pressed his back to the wall looking both ways checking to make sure the coast was clear. When he saw that it was, he slipped inside without making a sound. Rose's back was to him stuffing things into a large travel bag, by the looks of it she hadn't heard him come in. For a moment Jack lost his voice, he felt nervous, why was he nervous? He felt like he was meeting her for the first time. In his mind he started replaying what he was going to say and every time he thought he would say something he choked a little. His palms were sweating and he could feel his legs trying to give out again but he fought against it. At last he swallowed, he took a deep breath and said, "That was a great performance Rose, fantastic."

Rose's head whipped around at the sound of his voice and she did the last thing he expected. She screamed.

He jumped back "Hey! Rose, it's me!"

"Who are you!"

Jack's face scrunched together "What? Rose it's me. It's Jack." he said flattening a hand on his chest. He took several steps toward her and she took a few steps back. She knocked over the chair in front of her to block his way.

"I don't know you, how did you get past security?"

"What are you talking about? You do know me, I'm Jack Dawson. We met nine years ago on the Titanic!"

Rose's voice suddenly switched from fear to an angry hiss "I don't know who you are or how you know that name, but you need to leave right now."

If looks could kill, Jack thought he would be dead right now. He boldly stepped towards her, crossing over the fallen chair. He was desperate.

"Rose look at me, it's me, its Ja—"and then he saw the problem as he walked past Rose's vanity mirror. He took one look at himself, running his hands over his face and hair; he pulled at his cheeks to verify the realness of what he was seeing. His eyes were not his own, his face was not his own, his hair was not his own. His hair was dark brown and his eyes were brown. He did not look like himself. This was not him. This was not who he was. It was starting to make sense, the suit and the slicked back hair. Morana didn't give him a new wardrobe she gave him a new body.

"This isn't happening." Jack said under his breath as he stared at himself completely dumbstruck. He turned back to Rose and closed the gap between them. He grabbed hold of her shoulders and pinned her to the wall.

"What do you think you're doing, get off of me!"

"Rose please, please you have to listen to me!" she fought against his grip and managed to land a hard slap across his face that caused him to stagger back in pain."

"God damn it Rose, listen!" he growled. Jack couldn't hide his anger, not at her, but from the pain of her slap and his frustration at the situation. When he saw Morana again he was going to have a few choice words to say to her.

"What's going on in here?" bellowed a large man with a thick blonde beard and pot belly. Jack didn't know who the guy was nor did he care, he was much too focused on Rose. "Hey you, what the hell are you doing back here!" following close behind him was that little punk Jack had met at the ticket booth, a few of the other actors, and a handful of security officers.

"That's the guy!" the boy shouted pointing a finger at Jack and squeezing through the crowd. "That's him! That's the guy who tried to get in without a ticket!"

"You alright, Rose?" potbelly asked

Jack spoke up before she could answer. "Rose, you know me. You do! I'm Jack Dawson!"

"Alright there fella that's enough, let's get you out of here!"

Two of the officers came from behind Jack and tried to hook their arms through his to drag him away. He dodged them and lunged for Rose again but failed when one of the officers tackled him to the ground knocking the wind out of him.

"Been drinking tonight have we?"

"No I'm not drunk, god damn it, I am Jack Dawson!" He yelled as he wrestled with them. They finally hoisted him to his feet and started to drag him out the room while he thrashed against their grip. The look in Rose's eyes was painful to see. Jack would have much rather her say that she hated him than for her to say she didn't know him. Her face was a mixture of anger, confusion, and sadness. Her eyes were wet from the threat of tears. He thought that he too would cry from the obvious struggle that was going on in her head. Jack never wanted to be the cause of any of her pain, his only desire since the moment he met her was to make her smile.

Jack yelled until his voice was hoarse, desperate for her see, desperate for her to believe, despite his new appearance. Even as they dragged him down the hallway Jack's voice fell on deaf ears, until finally he was thrown out onto his stomach into the cold dark alleyway.