Author's Note: This is the final part and goodness was it a struggle to write. Trying to keep this 'real' without degenerating into fluff was very difficult indeed (I'm not always sure I quite managed it but it's the best I could do). I've left it there because there areideas for a sequel to the film forming in my head and I don't want to repeat anything. Thanks to all who have read and reviewed, your comments have been very much appreciated.
Part Four
Jack tried to ignore the rushing wind and dizzying height as he climbed the ladder. Ann was up there, he had to focus on that. The same focus that had seen him through the jungles of Skull Island when everyone else had given up on her and turned back. He had to finally tell her, to explain how he felt before he didn't know how to. Before the words escaped him again.
He knew precisely what had made him leave his theatre and rush to the one that was hosting Kong's grand premiere, that much was simple. What he wasn't quite so sure of was why he had chosen to lead Kong off like that. He knew the animal was searching for Ann but what was he trying to do? Stop him finding her? Or had he just developed a rather annoying and dangerous hero complex? Either way the trip had left him with a pounding head and he wasn't quite sure how he had survived; Kong certainly hadn't looked pleased to see him.
As he reached the top of the ladder Jack instantly felt his stomach leave him. There she was, standing precariously close to the edge, looking down as though the only thought on her mind was to follow the great ape to the ground.
"Ann"," he said softly, frightened to startle her, trying to say everything in one word - to implore her to come away from the edge, to tell her it would be okay, to say he was sorry. To finally admit that he loved her.
He climbed off of the ladder and stood stock still, suddenly questioning if this was such a good idea after all. Maybe she didn't want to see him. Maybe she hated him and his appearance here would be the final thing that pushed her into taking that last fateful step over the edge.
Jack's breath froze in his lungs, terrified beyond belief. More so than he had been at any point during his search of the island.
'Please, Ann,' his mind whispered in a silent prayer, 'Come back. Please. Just step back. For the love of God, don't do this to me…'
She turned painfully slowly, the wind whipping at her rebellious curls, her face tear stained and disbelieving. She stared at him as though she had utterly no idea about what to make of his sudden appearance, as though it was the last thing in the world she had been expecting. And then slowly, agonisingly so, a glimmer of belief in something she'd thought lost seemed to strike her.
When she first began to move his brain screamed at him to make a grab for her in case his eyes were deceiving him and she was really moving towards the edge rather than him. Then the weight of her was in his arms and every thought but utter relief was banished from his mind.
He swayed her gently from side to side, burying his face in her hair, his arms clasping around her like her couldn't hold her tight enough. She hugged him back just as fiercely, her head resting in the crook of his neck, not seeming to mind that she had to stand on tip toes to do so.
They stood there like that, him whispering half meaningless words of comfort to her until he finally had the strength to let go. He was surprised to find her eyes dry, the merest hint of tears hiding in the corner.
She was in shock, that had to be it. He should get her away from here.
"Come on," he insisted gently.
She allowed him to lead her over to the ladder, carefully helping her on to it, worrying that she would slip in her precariously dainty heels. At the bottom she waited patiently for him, grabbing his hand as soon as he rejoined her, her small fingers half disappearing in his grasp. He had to remember not to hold her too tight, he didn't want to hurt her.
They walked in silence, Jack making sure she safely negotiated the broken glass on the floor. When they reached the lift, he found it still waiting there – no one else had dared entered the building since Kong had decided to make his last stand up there.
The ride down all one hundred and two floors seemed just as long this time as the last. He dreaded what awaited them at the bottom for Ann's sake more than anything. He kept glancing fretfully across, checking up on her, trying to make sure she was still with him, as stupid as it sounded to his own mind. They were in a damn lift for Christ's sake. Where was she going to go?
As they past the seventy sixth floor he thought he saw her shivering and frowned, running the hand that wasn't clutching hers softly down one of her arms. She was cold as ice in that ridiculously flimsy dress. Releasing her hold for a moment he shrugged off his coat and wrapped it firmly round her shoulders. It was so large it almost smothered her. As soon as he was done her hand searched his out again, her grip seeming to tighten with every floor closer to the ground they got.
When the doors finally opened with a perfunctory ding on the ground level they stepped out together, heading across the lobby to the doorway. Jack's pace faltered as they neared the exit. This wasn't going to be pretty that much was obvious. There were probably still reporters out there, circling round like vultures trying to get the last pickings of this story, that extra juicy morsel which made their paper the one people read about this in. They'd be on Ann in an instant if she went out that way. Not to mention the fact that the body of the king ape was sprawled on the sidewalk in who knows what kind of state after such a long fall. She certainly didn't need to see that.
Ann seemed to have other ideas however. As he slowed to a stop he felt her hand slip gently from his as she continued forward with a sense of inevitability.
"Ann," he called softly after her, almost pleading for her not to do this, "We can find another way. Go out the back or something."
She looked at him and shook her head in a rather uncoordinated manner, as though she was only half listening. When she continued to the door and Jack had no option but to follow.
In the street outside the crowds had thinned a little. Quite a few of the reporters had left, clearly deciding there was nothing more to be seen here and wanting to try to be the one who got their story out first. The police had erected barricades and had finally seemed to have gotten most of the general public behind them. Jack wondered what they intended to do. They didn't seem to have a plan or be waiting for anything in particular, just ambling around, trying to keep people away and idly gossiping with the soldiers that remained. What exactly did you do with the remains of a twenty-five foot ape anyway?
When she first left the building, no one seemed to notice Ann, gilding over to the fallen ape like some kind angel of mourning. Most were too busy chatting, gossiping and theorising about the whole incident to even feel her brush past them. One kindly looking old cop did stop and ask her if she was alright when he saw her coming towards him, but she walked straight past as if she hadn't heard a word. He would have gone after her had it not be for Jack's intervention, assuring him that it was okay and asking for him to just give her a minute.
As Ann stood staring vacantly at Kong a whisper began to go round, people beginning to take note. As her shaking hand reached out to tentatively take a few strands of fur in her fingers an amazed hush began to settle over the crowd, turning soon to enchanted silence. She slowly walked round the great fallen form, trailing her hands lightly through rough black and silver fur, trying to give comfort where it was no longer possible. She stopped for a moment at one of his large out stretched hands, staring at her former carriage, remembering how it had felt to be safe in there. Finally she moved up to his face. And despite the twisted look of his obviously broken body, his expression was one of peace.
Jack was thankful for that much at least, although the attention of the reporters was making him increasingly nervous.
Ann was seemingly oblivious to her audience though as she slowly reached out, laying her palm gently across Kong's huge cheek. Jack very much doubted he had allowed her to do that when he was alive. As her fingers ran tenderly over the scarred, leathery skin, he saw her allow herself a slight, watery smile and realised that this probably had been a good idea after all. She needed to say goodbye.
And then all hell broke loose.
Seemingly snapped out of their spells, the remaining reporters and photographers leapt into action. Flash bulbs fired like guns, questions barraged from every direction, people shoved and pushed one another to get closer to this woman who actually seemed to care for the fallen monster. Beauty and the beast come to life.
"Are you Ann Darrow, Miss?"
"What happened up there, Miss?"
"Did he hurt you, Miss?"
"What do you want to say to the brave pilots who rescued you from the monster, Miss?"
"A word for the Tribune, Miss?"
"Miss Darrow?"
"Miss?"
"Miss?"
"Miss?"
Ann looked stunned and startled by the sudden, brutal activity, almost as confused by the flurry of reporters as Kong himself had been back in the theatre. Flash bulbs illuminated her pale, shocked face and she blinked rapidly, trying to figure out what was going on.
Jack was there an instant later, shoving a couple of reporters roughly aside and threatening to deck a third if he didn't back off. He pulled Ann tight towards him, trying to shield her from the cameras and questions the same way he had from the natives, his eyes darting around for any possible escape. It wasn't looking likely any time soon.
Over the cacophony of questions and thudding bangs of flash bulbs he heard someone whistle sharply, quickly followed by numerous shouts of his name. He turned hurriedly, trying to keep Ann safely in his grasp. There, about a hundred yards away, bobbing up and down like a loon in an attempt to be seen in a crowd of men who were mostly taller than him, was Carl. He was shouting at Jack, beckoning them towards him. As much as he was aware that Denham was likely the last person in the world Ann wanted to see right now, Jack didn't see that they had much choice.
Using his shoulder as a battering ram, he hauled himself and Ann through the unforgiving crowd towards Denham. When finally they reached him, Carl ushered them quickly towards his car waiting a few feet away.
"Come on," he insisted opening the back door and shepherding them in, "Let's get outta here before the wolves get even more rabid."
Carl certainly took no prisoners as he slammed his foot on the accelerator and Jack was very grateful for it. At least half a dozen reporters nearly ended up under the wheels of the car, jumping out of the way at the very last moment when it became clear that Denham was in no mood to be messed with.
Jack only allowed himself to relax slightly when he saw the last few reporters giving up the chase, slowing to an exhausted stop and hunching over to catch their breath as the car sped away from them. He released his fierce grip on Ann slightly, his arm slipping more gently around her shoulders as her head lay against him.
"Thanks," he said to Carl, with a definite sigh of relief.
"Least I can do for you," the other man replied rather grimly.
Carl looked back at them in mirror. His gaze settled on Ann for a moment, an uncomfortable look clouding his eyes before he had to turn away to concentrate on the road again. Frowning, Jack glanced down to see that the tears had finally come, rolling mournful and silent down her cheeks. He pulled her a little closer, pressing a soft kiss into her hair, knowing he could nothing but offer her a shoulder to cry on. Literally.
He wanted to say the words. Desperately needed to. But now was not the right time.
The three of them walked into Jack's apartment in a silence that was neither awkward nor comfortable. There was simply nothing to be said and too much thinking to be done.
The apartment wasn't a grand place by any means, but it was a lot better than most in this city had, and Jack knew he had to be very grateful that the Depression hadn't affected him as badly as it had others. He gently steered Ann over to the sofa, feeling how unsteady she was on her feet, like he was trying to hold up a rag doll. He sat her down and crouched in front of her, struggling to ignore how small and thin she looked still wrapped in his big coat. She always had been slender but now she was positively skinny. He picked up her still chilled hands in his, rubbing her fingers soothingly, attempting to return the warmth to them.
"You okay?" he asked, the stupidity of the question not hitting him until the words had already left his mouth.
His hand reached up, smoothing through her still windswept blonde hair.
"Do you want anything?"" he continued softly, trying to be more helpful, "Coffee? How does that sound?"
She nodded, the slightest trace of a smile ghosting onto her lips.
"Sounds nice. Warm at least."
Jack stood, not letting go of her hands until the last possible moment.
"Carl?" he asked, looking to the other man who was still hovering uncertainly near the doorway, "Do you want one?"
It was a gesture, not of forgiveness certainly, but of thanks. A sign that despite his faults Jack still accepted his friend as one of them, even though there were many bridges to be rebuilt before he'd considering trusting him again. If he ever did.
Carl shook his head, although his mind was clearly elsewhere lost in thought.
"No," he replied, "No thanks. I'd better get going actually. Probably should lay low for a while 'til this blows over.""
"If it blows over," Jack corrected, although he immediately felt bad for doing so.
Carl didn't need reminding of how much trouble he was likely in. Both city officials and his investors would probably not take long to start blaming him for his creature's destructive rampage. The quicker he got the hell out of town, the better. Of course that meant his career as a film maker was going to be dealt a huge blow for a while, if it recovered at all. Maybe it was over for him. Jack sincerely hoped it wasn't – it was what the man lived for, the only reason he kept breathing, something Jack could have long sympathised with before he'd met a girl on a boat.
"Yeah," Carl said with a bitter laugh of gallows humour, "You know me buddy. I don't screw up by halves."
"No," Jack agreed, a small smile gracing his lips, "That's not your style."
"But I really went for it big time with this one, huh?" he pointed out and for the first time Jack thought he could sense true remorse in the other man.
One thing he could rely on about Carl Denham; the man never ceased to surprise him.
When the silence that followed went on a bit too long he nodded.
"Be seeing you then."
He turned as if to leave, but paused, his hovering hand on the door handle, something holding him back.
"I'm sorry, Ann," he muttered quietly, feeling like he owed her that much at least, "I never wanted this."
"I know," she replied after a tense silence. Whatever Carl was guilty of he had never meant to hurt anyone. It certainly wasn't in his best interests and quite frankly Jack knew that deep down he was a better man than most gave him credit for.
Carl shared a look with Ann for a moment, giving her a small, grateful smile as he once again turned to leave.
"Carl?" Jack called as the other man opened the door and put a foot outside, "You look out for yourself, pal, okay?"
He grinned lopsidedly, "You know me. Looking out for me is what I do best."
No, Jack thought, making films was what Carl did best. But he was already gone before he could say it.
As he stepped into the kitchen Jack heard Carl's car pull away, watching from the window as it disappear around the corner. He was almost certain that Carl would bounce back, he always did in the end. He just hoped it wasn't too hard on him. Despite his faults Jack knew there was barely a malicious bone in his body. Plenty of thoughtless and stupid ones, but no malice. And maybe this experience was what he needed. A bit of a shake up to bring him back to the real world. Perhaps some good would come out of it after all. Maybe it would be the making of Carl Denham.
Having filled the kettle, Jack turned back to put it on the stove and was surprised at how quick his reactions were when he saw Ann standing in the doorway. He certainly jumped slightly, startled by her sudden presence, but he managed to steady his hand quickly enough to barely spill a drop of water.
"Are you okay?" she asked instantly, frowning at his reaction.
He almost laughed at the ridiculousness of her asking him that.
"Fine,"" he responded with a reassuring look, setting the kettle down and opening the near drawer to get some matches. He struck one, turning on the gas and lighting it before quickly shaking it out.
Ann stared unseeingly at the flames. When Jack looked at them all he could think of was the burning fires of the native village, their cackling screams and piercing cries. It still chilled him right through to his centre now, still occasionally woke him up in a cold sweat. It must have been a thousand times worse for her though, having been alone there and with no idea of what was going to happen to her or if anyone would come to her rescue.
"Ann?" he prompted quietly, and when she didn't respond he tried again, louder this time, "Ann?"
Her eyes shot up, a vague look on her face as though she'd been completely elsewhere for a moment. He had a pretty good idea where that place was and he didn't think she should be dwelling there.
"Hmm?" she asked, trying to smooth her expression back to normal, pretending nothing had just happened.
Jack went to speak but then felt stupid asking her if she was okay yet again.
"Don't worry,"" he assured and went back to finding some clean mugs and coffee.
"So," she said after a moment's pause, taking a couple of rather uneasy steps into the room, "How are things at the theatre?""
He frowned slightly, wondering where the question had come from and why such a comparatively mundane thing had been on her mind after all that had happened. But he shrugged to himself, deciding it was probably for the best if her mind was occupied with other things.
"Good," he replied with nod, "Things are going really good."
He paused, looking once again at Ann's thin frame and remembering that not all in his industry were as fortunate as he was. Most were unemployed or worse forced to do shows and performances that they despised in order to earn a less than meagre wage.
"We're lucky though," he added, "I'm lucky. The Federal Theatre's been good to me."
"You're good to the Federal Theatre," she corrected with a smile, "They're lucky to have you. They wouldn't have an audience if they didn't have such good plays. I heard you've got a new one."
Jack wondered where she'd heard it – if it had just been passing gossip or if she had been specifically searching out news on him. He certainly wasn't going to ask her though.
"Yeah it's good," he said with a nod before realising how that sounded.
"Not my play, I mean," he tried to clarify, "I'm not saying my play's really good. Just things in general are good."
No, that wasn't right either.
"Not that the play's bad. It's okay, it's just…" he shook his head as he trailed off, disgusted by his own verbal incompetence, wondering how she managed to be the only person in the world who inhibited his ability to string coherent sentence together, "Jesus Christ..."
Ann's smiled broadened to wider lengths than he'd seen it in a long time and he thought he saw a fondness in her face. At least he hoped he did. God, he'd missed her. Twelve weeks together on a boat, never far away from her company, he should have felt claustrophobic and trapped. He didn't like it when people got too close. He liked to keep a bit of distance, a bit of space for himself and his thoughts. But that's where Ann seemed to belong, in that space he kept between himself and the rest of the world. To go cold turkey like that, to suddenly have her presence ripped away from him had been gut wrenching. He could understand now how Kong must have felt when he had stolen her back from him.
He wanted her to ask more about the play so he could tell her that it was her comedy and that it just wasn't the same as he had imagined without her in it, but she simply continued to smile shyly, saying nothing.
The polite thing to do would be to ask how she was – whether she had found work, what she was doing. But it felt like he was prying and part of him was happier in ignorance. Times were getting tougher and theatre jobs were few. Vaudeville was almost extinct and only the burlesque houses could offer a guarantee of employment to a pretty young actress. Jack stomach lurched at the thought of his Ann in such a place.
His Ann? When had he become so territorial?
Having nothing to say and feeling stupid about it, he turned to the fridge to get some milk out. When he turned back Ann had suddenly moved and was standing less than a foot in front of him. He was certainly startled but curiosity stilled him. They stared at each other for a moment, Jack wondering, Ann biting her lip in indecision. Then something seemed to make up her mind, although apparently she wasn't quite sure about it because she launched herself at him before she could change it again.
Her lips collided heavily with his and it took Jack a good five seconds to realise that Ann was kissing him, albeit rather clumsily without his co-operation. He was so shocked that his fingers seemed to forget what they were doing and he didn't even realise that the milk had slipped from his grasp until he heard the smash of the bottle on the floor.
At once, and much to his disappointment, Ann was gone, already bending down to try to clean up the mess, muttering hurried apologies.
Jack stood stock still for a moment, needing to allow his brain time to catch up with the situation. Then he bent down too, ushering her away, telling her to go sit in the lounge whilst he sorted everything out.
When he re-entered the room a couple of thoughtful minutes later he saw her sitting nervously on the couch, wringing her hands. Something in the look on his face had obviously betrayed his underlying confusion because as soon as she looked at him she stood, shaking her head.
"I'm so sorry," she rapidly apologised, "I can just go."
He swiftly intercepted her a few paces from the door, blocking her path. She looked wistfully towards her escape but made no move to go there.
"You kissed me," he stated carefully.
Her eyes looked downwards, her face flushed with embarrassment.
"I'm sorry," she said again, this time definitely going to step around him.
He stopped her.
"Don't be."
Her gaze shot up, bewilderment on her face mixed with the tiniest spark of hope.
"You didn't mind?"
A slow smile crept across his features, "Not exactly, no."
"Oh."
This time he kissed her. Softly. Lips lingering on each other for mere moments in the gentlest brush. When he pulled back Ann's eyes remained closed, savouring the feeling. He smiled fondly again, the touch of his hand on her cheek sliding back into her hair making her look at him with wide, beautiful blue eyes.
"Forgive me?" he whispered.
Ann looked at him with genuine confusion.
"For what?"
"Being an idiot," he said with a wry smile, "I love you. So much. But I couldn't find the words to say it."
"You?"" she teased, her body pressed so close against his, seeming to warm at his admission, "The great writer stuck for words? Never!"
He grinned wider, "Stupid, huh?"
"Very," she agreed, her hand running up and down his back, fingers leaving a trail of pleasant tingles in their wake.
"All I had to say was 'I love you'." he whispered softly, amazed at how easily the words suddenly came. How simple they needed to be.
He leaned in to kiss her again but she put her fingers to his lips to stall him.
"More than your theatre?" she asked in a playful tone, "More than your plays?"
"Absolutely," he intoned, joining her smile.
"Good," she said, her hands sliding up his chest in a way that made him near weak kneed, "Because I don't want to have to share you."
Jack smiled, feeling impossibly amazing at those words and kissed her again, taking his time to commit to memory the feel of her lips on his.
"You're still cold," he said, eventually pulling away, running his hands up and down her arms, "Why don't I go finish making that coffee?"
When he returned to the lounge a few minutes later he smiled to see Ann's soundly sleeping form curled up on his sofa. It really had been a long night, the dawn sunshine slipping through the gap in the closed curtains. Putting the coffee tray down, Jack went and fetched a blanket, draping it over her, carefully smoothing her tangled hair off of her face and planting a tender kiss on her cheek. Then he crossed over to his desk, coffee in hand, pushing the typewriter out of the way in favour of the quieter pen and paper as he settled down to write a new play.
It wasn't all about the words, no. But in the end they really could make the world of difference.