Author's Note: King Kong and the characters created for the film are not my property. I am just borrowing them for a bit.

Chapter I

The sun's rays beat through the torn lace and bore onto Alice Darrow's face, the increasing heat waking her. She stretched and rolled over to find her sister's half of the bed empty. She sat up and looked around their five hundred square foot studio apartment; she did not spot a note explaining Ann's absence, instead seeing the empty space where she had set Mr. Weston's burlesque card.

'Dammit,' she hissed, throwing aside her quilts and rushed around the room, throwing on a pair of slacks and silk blouse. She slipped on her shoddy boots, simultaneously slipping on her light green pea coat before bolting out the door and into New York's cold and polluted air that belched into her face. She rounded corners, near sprinting to get to that familiar yet always ignored building almost a dozen blocks away.

She spotted her sister's form through the crowd passing in front; her head was tilted up as she fingered the card. 'Ann, no!' Alice snatched it from her hands and crumpled it. 'Dear God, didn't you hear mother screaming from her grave?'

'He was right, Alice,' her voice was far away, almost tearful. 'We don't have to starve.'

'No,' her voice was firm. Her hand slipped into her sister's and she led her away, Ann following passively. Alice's eyes scanned the busy streets, spotting a booth with a basket of apples that had just begun to brown. Keeping her sister at her side, she pressed close, lifting one and slipping it into her pocket.

They began to walk away when a sharp, 'Hey!' tore through her heart. The vendor grabbed Ann's elbow, her sister paled as he belted, 'You gonna pay for that?'

A man pushed between them, pinched between his forefinger and thumb was a dime. 'Ma'am,' he said loudly. 'I believe you dropped this.'

The vendor released his grip and Alice ushered her sister away, Ann rubbing her arm. The man followed. 'Thank you so much, sir,' Alice began. 'If you have a business card, surely I can repay…'

He held up his hand. 'Nonsense. Let me be chivalrous.' His smile seemed genuine, his teeth with the slightest spacing; his eyes were two dollops of melted milk chocolate tucked under severe, dark brows. 'Let this streak continue with you ladies permitting me to buy you supper.'

Before Alice could complaisantly decline, Ann cried, 'Oh, yes please!' Her arm slipped into the nook of his offered elbow. Alice trailed behind, her eyes watching the strange man warily.

They seated themselves at a table in a nearby diner. The man introduced himself as Carl Denham. His conversation was clean, mostly prying into Ann's stage career. Alice tried for indifference but that melted away as soon as the hot dish was set in front of her.

'Vaudeville, eh?' He sipped at his saucer of black coffee as the Darrows heartedly cleaned their plates. 'I worked Vaudeville,' he continued. 'Once, really. That was a tough audience. If you don't kill them fast, they kill you.'

Ann nodded and Alice intervened while her sister chewed. 'Mr. Denham, I want it to be known that we're not in the habit of accepting charity from strangers.' A blush crept up into her rounded cheeks, 'Or, for the matter, don't usually take things that do not belong to me.'

He batted away her words, 'It was obviously a terrible misunderstanding.'

Ann cleared her throat, 'What my sister is trying to say is, we're both out of work for the moment, myself more recently…'

His voice filled with a feigned sincerity, 'That's just awful to hear, my dear Darrows.' He squared off to Ann. 'Anyway, Ann—may I call you Ann?' Her mouth full again, she nodded and his voice dropped to a whisper. 'You wouldn't happen to be a size four by any chance…?'

Both girls stopped mid-chew. Alice was up and grabbed for their coats as Ann dropped her fork as if it were a snake, silver clinking against the ceramic.

His hands flew up, apologetic, 'No! Oh God, no! My dear Darrows, I did not mean offence! You ladies have me all wrong! Please, I am not that type of man at all!'

'And what type of person are you?' Alice snapped, helping Ann into her beige winter coat.

'I'm someone you can trust, Alice. I'm a movie producer.' The sisters exchanged skeptical looks, but Denham barreled on. 'I want you to imagine a handsome explorer bound for the Far East.'

'You're filming in the Far East?' Ann asked, her brilliant blue eyes widened with curiosity and awe.

Bingo, he thought triumphantly. 'Singapore. Oh board her meets a mysterious girl. She's beautiful, she's fragile…haunted even.'

Ann fell back into her seat, swept up by the story; her sister begrudgingly followed suit.

He continued, 'She can't escape the feeling that forces beyond her control are compelling her down a road from which she cannot draw back.' The blonde was enthralled, Denham noted with glee. However, her sister's sharp green eyes were still narrowed at him. How to win her, was a thought that bounced around the back of his brain. 'And sure enough, against her better judgment—'

'She falls in love,' Ann finished for him, her eyes shining.

'Yes!'

'But she does not trust it,' Alice interjected, her voice soft. They both turned to face her. 'She's not even sure if she believes in it.'

So she was listening, 'Oh really?' He asked, his tone a tad haughty.

'If she loves someone, it's doomed.'

'Why is that?'

'Because good things never last, Mr. Denham.'

Several beats of silence passed before he pressed, 'So you're interested?'

Ann started to answer but Alice was back on her feet, 'Good luck with your picture, Mr. Denham. Thank you very much for the meal.' She pulled her sister to her feet; Denham followed them to the door.

'My dear Darrows, please! You would be perfect, Ann,' his voice pleading. 'I'm offering you money, adventure, fame! It would be the thrill of a lifetime with a long sea voyage included!' Alice dragged her sister outside, the movie producer continued, unabashed. 'You wanna see a script? Jack Driscoll's turning a draft as we speak!'

They halted; Alice turned on her heel, 'Jack Driscoll?'

'Oh sure, we stop for your stupid playwright,' Ann hissed. Alice ignored her, releasing her sister's arm.

'Sure. Why, I'm sure we could have him write you a little role—'

Alice shook her head, 'No, sir. There is only one Darrow actress. I'm…I'm a writer. I've seen his plays.' I've read them all.

'What a writer, huh?' He turned eagerly back to Ann. 'Let me tell you girls, Jack Driscoll doesn't want just anyone for this role. Why, he said to me, "Carl, somewhere out there is a woman born to play this role!" And as soon as I saw you, I knew.'

'Knew what?' Ann whispered. Alice rolled her eyes inwardly; her darling sister, always baiting for a compliment.

'It was always going to be you.'

Convinced thoroughly, with more faulty promises of fame and becoming Mr. Driscoll's assistant—('The more, the merrier!')—Mr. Denham whisked them into a hailed cab and they gaily drove back to their modest studio. In a frenzy, they threw all that they own into two little, blue suitcases, Alice's more laden with books, bid farewell to their landlady, and piled back into the waiting cab. Ann asked questions about the film which Mr. Denham happily supplied answers—('Bruce Baxter! Oh, Alice!')—and they reached the docks.

Evening rolled out across New York's sky and they reached the docks just after sunset. They passed a large, freshly painted liner; Ann sucked in her breath, 'Is this the moving picture ship?'

'Not exactly,' Denham shook his head. 'It's actually this one over here.' They turned to see a more sea battered tramp of a liner, the red painted mixed with rust, with the white words SS Venture scrawled across its side. 'Don't let appearances deceive you. Its much more spacious on board.'

Sailors surrounded them, hurrying to load and prepare the ship for leave. Denham broke away from the Darrows and went to talk to two of them.

'I still don't trust him, Ann. I got a queer feeling about this fellow,' Alice whispered to her sister the second they were out of ear shot.

'Oh, hush up! Must you always be so mistrusting?' She huffed, her pink lips forming a rehearsed pout. 'Things are finally going the way we dreamed, la! You get to pant after your beloved Drascell—'

'Driscoll,' she corrected.

'—and I can be what I have always desired.' Her eyes shone, brighter in the moon's growing light. 'A star! Bigger than Clara Bow and Myrna Loy combined! A newer, sleeker, budding Mae West!'

'Can we talk about this later?' The loud words jolted them back. 'Can't you see we're in the company of a VIP guest?'

Denham and another suit walked back towards them, the sister's straightening themselves at the sight of third man, the handsome sailor, just as weather beaten as the Venture following. His sharp, cerulean blue eyes were set in a leathered face with a three day stubble that stretched across his jaw line and cheeks. A cigarillo hung from his lips, his gaze was steady, unblinking, 'Madams.' He said, his tone polite, with a slight inflection they could not place.

'Ann Darrow,' she blurted, then flashed her starlet smile. 'This is my sister, Alice.'

His brow rose when he looked over Alice's trousers. 'So, are you ladies ready for this voyage?' His words dripped in a German accent.

'Sure.'

'Nervous?'

Alice's head titled slightly, 'Nervous, no. Why? Should we be?'

He took a step towards her, the black cigarillo in his hand, smoke pouring from his lips. 'It isn't like every woman—this case, women—who would take such a risk.'

Denham exchanged looks with the other man, his expression panicked but only fleetingly. The other man was gangly, with mouse brown locks combed to the side and wired frames, dress in tweed. He stepped forward, taking Ann's suitcase, 'Why don't I show the Darrows to their cabin?'

'Wonderful idea! My dear Darrows, allow me to introduce you to my other half for this and all my pictures, Mr. Preston.' He chirped away, pushing the sisters to follow him. 'Thank you, Preston.'

They followed him towards the plank; Alice looked quizzical over her shoulder back at the man with the brilliant blue eyes. He nodded in her direction, his lips hinted a smirk, before returning his attention back to Mr. Denham.

'Please, follow me,' Mr. Preston called to her. 'If there's anything that either of you need, please don't hesitate to ask.' She looked back at him. 'Anything at all.'