Don't want to sound like I'm bragging, but I'm quite satisifiyed indeed with how this chapter turned out. Hopefully, you'll find it just as pleasing-and downright romantic-too. Also, for people who might be beginning to wonder if anything else that's actually interesting or action-packed is going to occur in this fic, the foreshadowing in this chapter should get your blood flowing in expectation...
I can't state this enough, thanks so much to all my loyal reviewers. If I had the choice between a new review and a king-sized Almond Joy bar, I'd be in quite a quandry!
"The light in the walls was blood-red now, steadily fading. DREAMS ARE DOORWAYS." Cold Fire, Dean Koontz, 1991.
"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes." Macbeth.
"Even so she kiss'd his brow, his cheek, his chin/And where she ends she doth anew begin." Venus and Adonis, William Shakespeare.
She was here again! The hideous, obscene old witch –woman, a figure carved of hardened lava and driftwood from a poisonous tree, fixed Ann's helpless blue eyes with her own ghastly ones. The demon crone, as before, was malevolently hurling curses and hatred at the American woman's quivering form. This time though, Ann could understand every single word the island sorceress shrieked into the air, as easily as whenever her mother would revert to speaking French, Melissa's birth language.
And Jesus above, how Ann wished that she couldn't and didn't.
It was too much terror and horror to endure, and Ann gave voice to it with a scream, a piercing knife that cut an escape route out of her subconscious mind and let her flee with a start back to the real world.
Warm fire, a safe dark cave, and best of all the feeling of being embraced in Jack's arms registered on Ann's panicked mind in the next instant, her lover's voice containing both urgency and softness as he frantically ululated, "Oh Christ Ann! You're having a nightmare! It's okay darling, I'm here, it's over now for both of us. We're all right. Hush…" he whispered in her ear before she turned and clutched his dark body with all the strength she could muster, tucking her head under Jack's chin.
Sobbing from a double whammy of relief and dread, she kept that position for a minute, holding onto Jack like a shipwreck victim clutching a log. For his part, Jack continued to comfort her, lightly caressing and kissing the top of her head as Ann felt his heart, determined and alive, beating against hers.
The dregs of the panic began to trickle away, leaving a merciful emptiness. Sensing her body beginning to relax, Jack allowed her to slip out of his grasp, softly telling her, "I'm next to certain it was the island, right? Ann baby, I'm so sorry. If I could take those memories out of your head and blow them to bits, I would," he declared with a slow anger.
Looking into his concerned green eyes, Ann sniffed and nodded miserably, saying in agreement, "I'd love nothing better." Without waiting for Jack to speak-because she knew what he meant to say and wanted to let the fear out at the same time-Ann continued, "It was so awful Jack! I saw her again, and this time I was able to understand exactly what she said!"
"If I think I know who you mean by her, then a merciful God shouldn't be letting an angel see that in her dreams," Jack said grimly, eyes narrowing with bitterness. "But what exactly did she say?"
In a quivering, desperate voice, Ann clamped down and told him, "You aren't going to like hearing this Jack. Not one bit."
"Well, try me," Jack coaxed.
"Okay then. She-she-she told me in the dream that it was too bad that you'd fought her people so hard and one of them had had to take a club to you so soon. Oh God, I thought that they'd murdered you!"
"I did too Ann, I did too," Jack told her with a thin sigh, clutching her to his chest again briefly. "But by some miracle it wasn't to be, and we're still both here."
"And if there's any truth to what you dreamt," he continued, "I suppose I can take some perverse delight in the fact that I gave those savages quite a run for their money. Father always did tell me after all that if you have to exchange blows with someone, you let the other fella know that the fight was no joke, even if you lose in the end. But go on if you're ready," he said.
Actually, are you ready Jack? Ann thought in trepidation. "That horrible witch told me that if things had been different, after Carl, then Herb, had been killed, those savage men would've dragged YOU to the stone Jack. Then they'd have smashed your head open, killed you before my eyes."
The thought of seeing Jack's tall Adonis body going limp forever in a rush of blood, his noble head and poetic mind being shattered like a porcelain bowl full of oatmeal as all the savages mockingly laughed at his execution and Ann's helpless anguish was an image she couldn't stand to even visualize, and Ann clenched her eyes shut against it, tears starting to flow as she bent her head, saying hollowly, "And they would've laughed at my agony."
"Good blessed Christ," Jack voiced in a distant tone of horror and sympathy, eyes widening. It didn't sound at all like a curse. "You don't need to be scared or worried about that happening anymore though sweetheart," he gently reassured her after a thickened few moments. "And here's the proof that my skull's still quite intact," he warmly added, Ann opening her eyes again as she felt his hands cup each side of her jaw and then his lips touch, then slowly suck at hers.
It was wonderfully comforting indeed, but Ann matter-of-factly told Jack, meeting his eyes after he stopped, "I am scared though Jack. Scared for you especially, because that wasn't the whole nightmare. That woman told me something else, threatened you."
"And what was that?" Jack calmly inquired.
"When Englehorn came, he shot the native that was about to kill Carl-would've killed you Jack," she stated. "And in the nightmare, she shrieked at me that she was furious, not only about that you lived, but interfered with my-sacrifice-and reclaimed me."
"Well, I sure as the hell that they all came from am not," Jack almost snarled out. "If those crazed, inbred abominations of humans want to rant about being cheated till the cows come home, or burn me in effigy for that matter, then they can be my goddamn guests as far as I'm concerned."
Cooling down suddenly, he looked at her in part shame and part bashfulness, saying apologetically, "I'm sorry Ann. I shouldn't be cursing my head off in front of a lady."
"I've heard worse before," Ann dismissively assured him. "What made me so frightened was the last part, when that vile witch told me that she was going to send that evil man's spirit over here, and give it a whole new form. Then she'll send that beast to-to-to…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words, and just stammered in despondent fear, waving her hands helplessly.
"To kill me?" Jack finished with a soft, whispered bluntness. "I can definitely understand why that nightmare and that thought would be extremely upsetting," he told her. "It was just that though Ann, a nightmare."
Lying back down on the crude reed and grass mattress, he sighed and calmly continued, "This is reality though, where we're together and alive. Besides, we're over in East Africa now, a whole ocean away from Skull Island. I doubt there's very much that even a spirit could do to us all the way over here," he said, showing his white teeth in a pleasing grin.
"Maybe you're right Jack," Ann said pensively, looking out at the star-studded sky through the cave mouth. "But it was just too raw, so real to me, and I have this horrible worry that you'll leave or die on me somehow."
"Hey, that's perfectly natural to have those feelings after an awful dream like that. I don't blame you in the least," Jack candidly told her. "But please don't think that way for too long though," he advised her, putting his hand over hers.
"You're the best thing that's ever happened to me Ann," he told her, gently running his fingertips over her collarbone and inner arm in that nerve-tingling way. "We've both been through a hell of a lot to put it mildly over these past four days, and I never gave up on you, never stopped fighting, never let you down. And remember what I said after we parted ways with the wild dogs?" he prodded, playfully raising his eyebrows.
Remembering, Ann lightly laughed and nodded, repeating, "We're sticking together out here."
"Whether we like it or not I believe," Jack wryly smirked.
Calmed and heartened by that, yet still feeling like she was on shaky ground, Ann gave voice to the other distinct half of her unease. "There's something else I have to admit to as well Jack. Even before that nightmare, I've been having this awful feeling, and it deeply concerns me."
"What are you concerned about? I thought we went over all the dangers and problems we could encounter on the way back and concluded that they really weren't so bad. We can deal with them Ann, don't worry."
"I know that Jack. It's just that I feel as if things, huge, huge things, are being hidden from me somehow, like I'm being deceived, and it's the serious kind."
"Well first of all, you can rest assured that I would and could never lie to you Ann. Maybe to other people, but never you," Jack frankly responded. "I'd rather rip out my vocal cords then knowingly tell you a lie."
Touched, Ann smiled, replying, "Of course you wouldn't Jack. I know that you're a very honest man. It's only this suspicion I have, that someone, not you, has told me lies, but I can't guess who."
"Well, I think you're just being nervous, that Carl's actions have simply tainted your sense of trust for a bit and made you paranoid."
"After all, Carl did viciously lie to you and put you in jeopardy all for the sake of a film, and maybe even more reprehensibly flat-out tricked me of all people, supposedly a good friend who's known him since college," Jack commented in disgust. "To say that the man glosses things over is quite an understatement. But don't ever allow that to taint you."
"It doesn't really have anything to do with what Carl did," Ann drowsily stated, shaking her head. "I just have that feeling. Oh, I give it up," she declared, throwing her hands up in resignation. She was only uselessly going around in circles.
"I was just going to say, it's not worth dwelling on your uncertainties if there's no substance behind them to begin with," Jack advised before stretching out again. "Meanwhile, tomorrow is another day, and we'll take each one together as they come. And we'll get through the next one the same way. And then the next one after that, and the next one after that."
There was something so alleviating in his quiet, brave logic. It gave way to an abrupt impulse that crashed onto Ann like a breaking wave, longing and desire forcibly dragging the nervous, cautious part of her along for the ride like a swimmer caught in an undertow.
Without fully understanding why, she told her playwright, "Jack, let's start a bedtime ritual and do it when each of those days ends." Part of her voicelessly shrieked, What in the hell are you doing getting in so deep, you foolish broad? But she paid no heed. Besides, if the worst happened, why wouldn't she want to have this memory of doing this with him?
"A bedtime ritual?" Jack said quizzically. With a blush, he looked away, saying haltingly, "You're not thinking about something steamy, because, well, it's a little too-"
"No Jack, far from it!" she said with a shocked yet chiming laugh. "It's this," she courageously whispered as she bent to him. "Just repeat what I do Mr. Driscoll." Slipping her fingers through his wildly disheveled locks, she kissed his crown, which the natives had almost broken.
He smoothly smiled in delight before tossing it back, achingly warm lips pressing against her own scalp. She closed her eyes before putting her lips to his forehead. Then each of his eyelids. Then each side of his aquiline nose. Then each lean cheek, taking in the sandpapery rub of his growing beard against hers. Then the tip of the chin. Then his Adam's apple. Each time, he willingly returned the gesture, a flood of sweet, blissful passion and peace rushing through Ann Darrow's bloodstream. Finally, the best being saved for last, their lips gracefully mingled. It felt like eating hot ambrosia.
"Now Jack," she said with a beatific smile, "is that a bedtime ritual you can approve of?"
"I could very much get used to doing that," he contentedly whispered back, long fingers stroking the point between her neck and shoulder. "Yeah, I'm thinking that's an excellent sensation to go to sleep on. Should chase away the nightmares too. And if you still have any others Ann, don't be scared by them, because I'll look after you. They'll go away for both of us in time."
"And I'll give you comfort until then too," a soothed Ann responded, turning on her axis to snuggle back into her playwright's tanned muscular arms. She felt so secure, and yet so full of misgivings about the future.
Her own father, Phillip Darrow, had cruelly walked out on his family when she'd only been four years old. As a result, Ann didn't remember much about him, her mother's memories filling in the gaps as best they could. On one occasion, Melissa had told Ann and Alice that it was rumored among Phillip's side of the family that his own mother-whom Ann had only met twice-, born in England like his father, ironically had witch blood in her veins and the gift of prophecy to a limited degree. It was said that Grandma Kate had seen the Fort Sumter attack which kicked off the Civil War for example, and could sometimes have an idea of when a disease outbreak was going to hit New York before it happened.
If it's true, I wonder if I have some of that witch blood in me too, Ann silently pondered. It was hogwash and rubbish to be true, but hadn't she originally believed the same thing about Skull Island? If that's the case, no matter what Jack thinks, I'm going to listen to what it says. And I don't think the news is good.
Jack was already deeply asleep once more, so it made Ann's body tense when she heard a noise suddenly near the cave entrance. It was the sound of padded feet, and it immediately broke her train of thought, replacing it with trepidation. Was it some creature coming to kill or attack them both? It would be just their luck to have that happen right on the heels of her dream, that was for sure. Not wanting to turn around, partly to avoid seeing the animal, partly to not wake Jack, she just listened as it entered the cave and scampered closer.
To her delighted relief, the light gait told her that it was only Simba, the lion cub come to visit her. "Ann? Are you awake?" he politely asked as he crept forward, providing conformation of his identity.
"Yes I am, Simba. But Jack's not, so you'll have to whisper," she replied in a near-imperceptible voice. "Why aren't you asleep too?"
Fortunately, a lion's hearing is extremely good, and Simba had no problem hearing her. Stealthily circling their heads, Simba slunk into her field of vision before saying concernedly, "We heard you scream and it woke us up. Did you have a nightmare? I'd have a nightmare about those awful things," he said with kind softness.
A part of her feeling strangely embarrassed and ashamed about the disturbance her screaming had caused, Ann said, "Yes Simba, I did. And it was awful indeed."
"What was it about?" Simba asked candidly. "Mom always tells me that it's good to talk about your nightmares, because that way you aren't all frightened inside."
It was a remarkably wise and precocious statement. "Really?" Ann said in amazement. "My mother used to tell me the same thing too," she told him quietly.
Still lying on her side, Ann ventured to tell the lion prince, "But about my nightmare Simba, I dreamed that someone said that Jack was going to be taken away from me." A red spiral of fear twisted down through her thorax again at the thought, turning icy as it reached her abdomen.
Simba, the cave, the bed, and even the fire all momentarily disappeared then. All Ann was aware of was feeling Jack's body heat against hers, feeling his breath and nose against her nape and the back of her skull, smelling his thick musky, sweaty scent. If those were taken away-taken permanently-it would feel like being condemned to hell. God, it would feel worse than that!
"That's a sad dream," Simba replied in sympathy, coming forward to nuzzle her neck with his velvet forehead and cheek. "I don't think that'll happen though. He'll be with you forever, just like me and my dad," the cub said with confident conviction as he leaned into her chest. How powerful the muscles in his body already were!
Charmed and deeply touched, Ann reassured him, "It's okay Simba. Jack already did the comforting, and I do feel better now." It was mostly the truth.
All of a sudden, Simba fidgeted a little and then looked her in the eyes, asking "Ann, can I sleep with you and Jack tonight?"
The request took her by surprise, and Ann nearly checked, catching herself in time not to wake her fella. "Don't you want to sleep with your mother instead Simba?" she asked in bewilderment.
"You need me here more," Simba said with frank simplicity. "Besides, I asked my Mom if I could sleep with you two, since you were scared enough to scream."
Moved by the sweet, selfless gesture, Ann smiled lovingly at the lion prince, whispering "Then that's all right with me, and I know it would be fine with Jack too. You're so sweet Simba. You'll make a fine king one day."
Beaming with a warm kind of fledgling pride, Simba just said "Thank you," before inserting his plush muscled butterscotch form into her grateful embrace.
"Good night Ann," he told her.
"Good night Simba," she fondly whispered, pulling him to her lightly built chest.
He fell asleep in her arms, fur feeling like velvet against her skin as she breathed in his honeyed, grassy scent. It was a sublime combination, one that just felt so right to her. Ann was getting warmth and love from Jack as he held her in his arms, and she was giving Simba the same things while he slept in her arms.
It felt so blissful, so natural, sandwiched between and feeling two hearts, two pulses, beating against each side of her. Could she dare to dream for once that this was just a foretaste of even better things to come for the two of them? Yes, for tonight she would and could.
Despite such soaring thoughts though, as she finally drifted off, an annoyingly fearful part of Ann Darrow couldn't help but wonder if both the chilling hag's announcement in her nightmare, and her very real sense of being lied to were connected. And then she wondered if they had to do with Scar.
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