Jane hears the gunshot and her heart stops.

The sound echoes through the clearing, loud and clear and far, far too foreign amongst the dense branches and vines towering above her. Her neck cracks as she looks up, straining to see through the dark, the red of the flares still dazzling in her eyes.

She sees him, so far up above, and for a second she thinks that her gut instinct was wrong and that he's fine - he's Tarzan, he's King of the Jungle, Lord of the Apes, of course he's fine, he has to be fine. But then his limp figure twists, and turns, and falls down, down, down.

Jane screams because this pain in her chest is so immense it feels like her heart is bleeding, like she's been shot, too, and this can't be real, it can't be real, it can't.

But Tarzan is still falling and Clayton is looming over her, laughing and laughing. She wants to charge at him, wants to hit him, hurt him, but her feet feel like they're stuck in mud. She's frozen in grief and fear, and he's pointing the gun at her now and there's nothing she can do -

She wakes up thrashing wildly, limbs waving and fists flying and skin flushed, brain catching up with the change in scene before her body does. Her watering eyes take a second to bring the nest into focus, to make out the gorillas sleeping soundly nearby. Something warm and solid touches her shoulder and she spins violently, nerves shot.

Tarzan reels back, palms up in a non-threatening position, eyes wide and glistening in the dark.

"I'm sorry, I -" She's still struggling to catch her breath. Tears drip down her cheeks and she hurriedly tries to brush them away. "I'm sorry."

"What's wrong?" Tarzan asks, leaning forward again. He lifts a hand and cups her face, skin refreshingly cool. He uses the pads of his thumbs to brush away her tears. He tries to catch her eye, but she looks away and he drops his hands back to his lap. "You were fighting in your sleep."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," Jane says, brushing her loose hair off her clammy forehead. "I had a nightmare, that's all."

"Nightmare?" he asks quizzically, gently brushing his knuckles against her forearm.

She grasps his hand in hers, flattens it out and intertwines their fingers. His skin is rough and calloused against hers, still soft and porcelain white. She runs the fingers of her other hand up his forearm, feeling the muscles tense slightly beneath her palm. She blinks across at him, finally feeling brave enough to search out the angular planes of his face as reassurance that it was indeed a nightmare and that he's still here.

"A bad dream," she explains. "A scary dream. I dreamt - well, it was just a dream, it doesn't matter what happened in it."

"It upset Jane. It matters," he insists, in that earnest, solemn way of his.

She smiles shakily. "Really, Tarzan, I'm alright now that I'm awake -"

"Kala always listened to Tarzan's bad dreams. You feel better after talking about them."

How could she argue with that?

"I dreamt about Clayton," she offers, voice quiet and trembling. Images from her dream come flooding back and she squeezes her eyes shut, trying to will them away. "You - you were fighting, and he… Oh, Tarzan, he shot you!"

Tarzan makes a concerned sort of grunting noise, almost affronted. She opens her eyes and stares at him, clutching at him with both hands.

"I dreamt that he shot you, and there was nothing I could do! I was so scared and I tried, I tried to fight but I couldn't, I was just frozen there," Jane stammered.

Tarzan coos and pulls her closer, up into his lap, hands gently stroking her hair. She buries her face into his shoulder, breathes in his scent, wild and more familiar to her now than the perfumes she was so used to back in England. His heartbeat is steady against her rapid one, and as he holds her she gradually calms down until they fall into an even rhythm.

"It's alright, I am here," Tarzan says into her hair. "Clayton is gone, and I am here."

"You are here," Jane repeats, lips brushing against his shoulder. "You're here."

Ferns crunch as some of the gorillas shift in their sleep, rolling over in their nests. The night air has lost some of the day's humidity and the stars are shining up above. Tarzan is a solid and steady presence, and soon Jane feels like she can breathe again. The terror of the nightmare fades away, replaced by a comforting embrace and a loving kiss to her temple.

"Better?" Tarzan asks, peering down at her.

Jane smiles and kisses him softly. "Much."