Joxer of the Jungle

By Susan Owens and Lori Bush

In Response to the SUJE Costume Challenge

Part One of Seven

Disclaimer: We do not own the Xena characters or any of the historical

persons. Certain characters, however, are all ours. The story is an

uber,

with a mix of Xena characters recast, fictional characters, and actual

historical characters. Don't sue us, 'kay?

Rated: PG

Warning: Death and violence

Notes (by Lori): This is in answer to Costume Challenge number three -

to

wit:

Challenge #3 -- Baby Joxer is separated from his family and raised by

wild

animals a la Tarzan. Write a story where this AU Joxer meets up with

Xena

and Gabrielle. REQUIREMENTS: animal skin loincloth, a "special

skill" for

Joxer, swinging on vines, and talking to animals.

I have worked with Susan in the past, but mostly as an editor. This

is the

first thing we have actually co-written. Actually, this is the first

thing I

have *ever* co-written outside of RoundRobins, and we had a ball with

it. We

took turns writing sections, passing them back and forth with only the

briefest of discussion about details, and I think it came together

nicely.

This was originally released as a Work In Progress on the SUJE list.

It is

now completed, and I had promised to share it with my other lists, so

here

it is. I had done considerable editing on the various parts while we

were

writing the others, but somehow, when I redid my harddrive, the files

I had

backed up didn't include this one. So I'm cutting and pasting from the

original issue, and since it was unbeta'd, this is even more so.

Sorry.

~**~

The barge drifted down the overgrown river in Borneo. It was 1877,

and a

young woman was sitting on a bench rocking her young child. Her name

was

Lady Janine, and she was on her way to meet her husband Lord Malcolm,

and

her other two sons. They had gone on ahead with the help. Her

youngest son

had been sick and not able to travel, but now he was better. She

cooed at

him in his basket, and he smiled up at her.

The entire trip had been difficult, and plagued by one mishap after

another.

But, suddenly something seemed even more wrong. The men were shouting

at

each other. Lady Janine's baby was grabbed by one of the men, who

shouted,

"This child is the cause of our bad luck. Let's throw it to the

alligators."

Most of the crew were local natives, a superstitious and pagan lot,

and

although the woman was afraid of them, her husband had assured her by

letter

that she would be perfectly safe.

"NO!" Lady Janine screamed as she grabbed for her child. The man took

his

knife and stabbed Lady Janine in the chest. The last thing she saw

before

she died was her child being tossed into the river. The men watched

as the

basket drifted down the river. One sympathetic man placed his hand on

his

heart. "May the Gods be with you, child," he whispered.

The basket carrying the baby drifted down the river. A figure from

the trees

saw it, and wondered at the strange item. The watcher was a female

orangutan. She ran down towards the banks of the river and took a

stick and

pulled the basket in. Looking into the basket, she saw the child,

crying.

The orangutan picked up the boy and held him. She had just lost her

own baby

to the cruelty of the jungle, and she still had her milk, which the

hungry

child found and began to drink. The orangutan held the child close

and began

to climb the tree to the place where she lived.

~**~

"Mamma," Joxer whined to Sheera, "Jett won't let me have *any* of the

termites he found. He said Jace could, but I couldn't." The female

orangutan

that had rescued the baby from the river those eight years ago looked

up

from the new child she was feeding and smacked her lips in annoyance.

"Joxer, how many times do I have to tell you not to let your cousin

intimidate you? I know all three of you boys went searching for that

nest

together, and you have every bit as much of a right to your share as

Jace

and Jett have to theirs." She looked indulgently at her eldest child -

her

sister's children treated him badly and called him "pale and hairless

one"

behind her back, she knew. She had asked her sisters to talk to the

boys,

but children were difficult. He was more slender than the other

children,

with hair only on his head, that hung to his shoulders in a shade of

dark

brown that contrasted with the red fur of the rest of the family. She

had

helped him fashion a breechcloth from the skin of a dead elk that

they had

found, and he wore it tied at his waist, because the other males

found that

particular portion of his anatomy even funnier than the rest of his

smooth

body.

Only his eyes offered any threat to the other creatures of the

forest. He

had a look that would sometimes cross his face when he sensed danger

that

terrified those who saw it - she had seen him use it purposely only

once,

when a panther refused to listen to reason, although he had spoken

wisely to

it as it circled an injured baby hippo. Sheera had screamed her

warning to

her son, and the killer had laughed the small hairless ape off, until

she

looked directly in his eyes. That panther disappeared in terror,

never to be

seen in their part of the forest again.

Besides, Sheera was also aware that her sister's boys would not allow

any of

the other adolescents to tease or abuse Joxer in front of them. They

truly

cared about him, but he was such an easy target for their childish

pranks

and the power plays that young males practiced in preparation for

mating

someday. She sighed at that thought - most of the young males left

after

fifteen cold seasons and found a female to mate with, but her child

was not

yet drawing the eye of any of the females around, and that seemed

unlikely

to change. Even his cousins, after only eight cold seasons, had

admiring

females. They were handsome boys. Joxer was indeed too different for

most

tastes, although she found him perfectly beautiful.

"Hey, Keenan," he cooed at his baby brother, making faces. The little

one,

who adored his older sibling and had no idea that he was anything

different,

giggled. Having finished his meal, he held his arms out, and Joxer

plucked

him up, tossing him high a few times to the baby's vocal enjoyment.

Sheera

had to admit - her mate had no more use for the little one than he

did their

adopted child. His only comment after the birth had been, "At least

this one

*looks* normal." Then he had lumbered off to hunt, and was gone for

several

days. He had never fully accepted Joxer as his son, although she was

beginning to think it had less to do with the boy than her mate.

She reclaimed her youngest from his brother. "If you don't mind, son,

I'd

like his meal to remain within him where it will do the most good.

Now, go

find those cousins of yours, and reclaim what you are due." Keenan

chittered

in happy baby talk as Joxer loped off to see if there were any of the

delicious termites remaining. If so, he was going to bring some home

to his

mother.

~**~

"Joxer!" Sheera called into the leafy dampness. Her eldest son swung

from

branch to branch, moving smoothly until he landed on the wide natural

platform where she waited.

"Yes, Momma," he answered, looking at her gently. As he had aged,

those

soft, gentle eyes of his had grown more threatening in anger, and

many of

the animals knew and feared his gaze. Now that he was fully-grown, he

stood

head and shoulders above the other males when fully upright, although

his

body still looked frail in comparison. His shoulders were wider, his

arms

shorter, his legs longer than the other young males. One by one, his

cousins

of similar age had found females and left the family group. Jett, for

one,

had a large family group of his own now. Only Joxer and Jace

remained -

neither had found a mate among the neighboring females. She had to

admit

that Joxer's mating cry didn't sound quite like the rest of the

males. Jace

had never even tried.

Her boy had admitted that, in spite of the fact that he found *her*

beautiful, as only a child could see his mother, the females he had

met

didn't appeal to him. Still, he was looking, he assured Sheera. As it

was,

she found it comforting to have him there to help her. Keenan, after

twelve

cold seasons, was becoming rowdy and difficult. But he worshipped and

usually obeyed his older sibling, so often, she relied on Joxer to

tend to

him while she cared for the young female that had been born almost

four

seasons ago.

She reached out for her boy, who crouched in the normal waiting

position.

Absently grooming his dark chestnut hair in affection, she almost

hesitated

to ask for what she needed. "Joxer, dear, would you take Keenan with

you

today? I have a lot to do, and he isn't usually a lot of help with

Raylan.

In fact, he usually ends up making her cry."

As if called, the little female skittered into the nest, squealing at

the

sight of her oldest brother. "Joxer, Joxer," she cried, bouncing to

his

shoulders, then into his lap, chattering the whole time, "Momma's

gonna show

me where to find *figs*! I *love* figs! Can you come too, can you,

can you?"

Finishing up while swinging from his forearm as if it were a branch,

she

turned shining, pleading eyes on him.

He gathered her into a hug. "I'm sorry, Raylan, but Keenan and I

have," he

hesitated, looking darkly at his mother, "plans. Maybe next time."

Her disappointment was there and then gone like the butterfly,

flitting away

in the face of a new excitement. "Okay. Momma, can I go tell Teera? I

see

her over there." Without waiting for the answer, the little one was

gone,

swinging eagerly through the trees and calling her cousin's name.

"You say you want me to mate, but no female is going to look at me

with a

*child* tagging after me," Joxer complained without spirit to his

mother.

"I heard that," his brother's youthful voice interrupted. "I am *not*

a

child! Raylan is a child." The nearly full-grown male landed in the

nest,

pouting. His expression mirrored perfectly that of the tiny female

that had

just left.

"Okay," Joxer answered, amused, "You're with me today, Mr. 'Not A

Child'.

Let's go - I'm supposed to meet Chula in a little while." His brother

pulled

away as the elder messed his fur, but followed eagerly and willingly,

swinging behind him on his way.

~**~

As Joxer and Keenan came to the clearing, Joxer told his brother not

to make

a sound. He had to see if the coast was clear. Keenan snorted - he

was not

afraid of anything, and yet Joxer sometimes still treated him like a

baby.

"I'm not a baby."

"Quiet "Joxer ordered. He slowly looked around and tested the air for

any

strange or unfamiliar smells. It seemed safe, and he was about to

call for

Keenan, when suddenly something jumped on him and knocked him down.

"Guess who"? teased the growling voice.

"Chula, will you please get off of me?"

The young female jaguar moved off and sat down. "You know, Joxer, you

really

are no fun sometimes."

"Yeah, well you're getting bigger, and a lot stronger."

"Don't worry Jox. You know you're safe. You and me are friends." She

looked

at his brother. "But I am kind of hungry."

Keenan was frightened but he stood tall before Chula. Joxer stepped

between

them. His eyes were narrow, and he was glaring at her. Chula backed

away.

"Hey! I was just kidding." She decided to change the subject. "Hey,

Jox, I

saw some strange animals today. They look something like you."

"You mean they're orangutans?"

"You know, Jox, I'm not the smartest jaguar in the jungle, but I do

know

that you're different from the other orangutans. You have very little

fur,

you're taller then the rest of the males, you have no cheek pouches,

and

your mating call is terrible."

"Hey, it's not that bad," Joxer defended.

"You haven't mated yet, have you? That should tell you something."

She could

tell he was getting annoyed with her again. "Come on - I'll show you.

Tell

the squirt to stay behind."

Keenan did not want to be left behind. "Joxer, I'm coming, or I'll

tell mom

that your best friend is a jaguar."

Chula looked at Joxer. "Your mom doesn't know?"

Joxer shook his head. "She wouldn't understand."

Chula laughed, "Yeah, mine wouldn't either. If I still had one."

********************************************

Her name was Gabrielle Taylor, and she had just turned eighteen years

old.

By this age, she should be married or at least betrothed, but

Gabrielle was

a spitfire, and no man could tame her. She wanted to be an artist, not

someone's wife. Her best friend and bodyguard was a woman in her early

twenties named Xena. Xena had been chosen to be Gabrielle's

bodyguard by

her father, Sir Reginald Taylor, because Gabrielle had refused to

consider a

male bodyguard.

She was now in the camp in Borneo with her canvas, getting ready to

paint.

Chula, Joxer, and Keenan watched her through the bushes. Joxer just

stared.

She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Keenan noticed

his

look. "What's the matter with you?"

Joxer looked at him. "Are you kidding? She's beautiful."

Keenan just shook his head. "I think she's ugly." He looked his

brother

over. "Almost as ugly as you are."

Joxer turned on him. "Well, I don't, and I am going to give her my

mating

call."

Chula and Keenan both backed away. Chula looked around

nervously. "You know,

I really gotta go hunting. See ya later."

Keenan climbed up a tree. "I think it's safer up here."

Joxer ignored them and stood tall, letting out his mating call.

~**~

Xena watched her friend and charge setting up to paint. "I dunno why

you 'ad

ta come ta the bleedin' *rain forest* ta paint," she complained. Since

Gabrielle traveled in high society circles in London, Xena was

careful there

to modulate her Cockney accent and speak in cultured tones. Out here,

in the

middle of nowhere with only her best friend, she could relax and not

be

concerned about her elocution. "Criminey, it *rains* all th' damned

time!"

Gabrielle could help but release an unladylike snort. "That's why

they call

it the *rain forest*, Xena. And we came during the dry season - I

could have

really made you suffer, and come during monsoon season." She belted

on the

smock that would protect her fine clothing - her proper Victorian

father had

chafed at allowing her to come all the way to this island with only a

guide

and her erstwhile bodyguard, but given in. She could not, however,

convince

him to allow her to wear the more practical men's trousers. She

supposed she

was lucky to be here at all. "Besides," she continued mildly, "the

rain is

the reason they have such beautiful flora and fauna here."

"Ya mean th' plants?" Xena saw her friend roll her eyes and nod. The

bodyguard settled into one of the fancy chairs that the native guides

had

set up before they left. As was the upper-class fashion, they brought

with

them everything they possibly could in order to simulate their home

life in

London. Their tent had a heavy wooden floor, and real mattresses on

the

beds. They even had small chifferobes for their clothing. The food,

however,

was not going to last long, and their guide had gone into the woods

to hunt

and forage for the women.

Growing up orphaned and poor on London's South Side had taught Xena a

lot,

and one of the things that had helped her survive had been her

instincts.

Her instincts now told her not to trust their guide, Drake O'Malley,

farther

than she could throw him. He was a native of Borneo, but had been

taken off

the island at a very young age and educated in England by a missionary

group, one of whose members had adopted him. His dark skin and hair

were the

only resemblance he bore to the other native guides he had procured

to move

their belongings, and even when he spoke their language you could

hear the

British accent in his words. His clothing was impeccable, and his

manners

sublime. But his eyes were wild and frightening, and Xena couldn't

help but

feel that she and Gabrielle were merely convenient tools that would

help him

get whatever he was really here for. She didn't care for the way he

looked

at Gabrielle, either.

Gabrielle had been the only good thing in Xena's life, ever. They had

become

friends when just in their early teens, when the younger girl had been

caught out on the streets in a terrible rainstorm without her

umbrella, and

taken shelter in a doorway Xena had already occupied. The little

blonde was

friendly and outgoing, politely ignoring the other girl's shabby

condition.

When the storm ended, she had taken her new friend back to her

palatial town

home in the finest area of the city, and *demanded* her father allow

Xena to

stay. Sir Reginald had never really known how to refuse his headstrong

child, and after many legal inquiries, it was decided that Xena had

no blood

relatives to object, and would stay at the Taylor household.

The girl from the streets was educated and outfitted alongside the

daughter

of one of London's leading families, but she never entirely lost the

wild

child she had been. So when Gabrielle began to wheedle for the trip to

Borneo to paint the scenery, her father arranged for Xena to have

formal

training in the arts of personal protection. His first suggestion of a

professional bodyguard had been met with near violent opposition, and

so,

the friend and foundling became the guardian. She would have already

given

her life for the blonde, but now she had the skills to really *do*

something, should she ever be threatened.

She was about to make an idle comment about the heat and humidity,

just to

stir up the young painter, when a cry, something not quite human,

ripped

through the camp. Gabrielle dropped her brush as Xena leapt to her

feet. The

blonde woman's heart had almost slowed down when she saw the big cat

creep

from the brush toward her. She screamed herself.

~**~

Joxer saw both the females react to his cry. He was satisfied that he

now

had their attention. His best friend slunk up behind him, resting her

jaw on

his shoulder as he crouched, waiting. "Looks like it worked, Jox, but

on the

wrong one," Chula growled quietly in his ear.

Sure enough, the dark one was moving smoothly in his direction, a

shiny

object in her hand. "I'll go talk to the other one, while you make

your

apologies to this one," Chula chuckled. "Otherwise, you could end up

with

the wrong mate. I gotta say, I never thought that cry of yours could

attract

a single female, let alone *two*." She slunk through the trees toward

the

smaller of the two strange creatures.

Xena held her knife at the ready, and cursed Drake for taking the

gun. They

only had one, and she knew that he needed it for hunting, but still...

Quietly, she crept in the direction of the cry, hoping that whatever

had

made that ungodly sound was in danger itself, and not a danger to her

or her

friend. A rustling of leaves let her know that whatever it had been

was

still there. She was nearly to the spot when Gabrielle screamed.

Joxer was startled - most females didn't cry out in return. Then he

saw the

dark one spin, and he could smell their fear. Suddenly, it

registered -

Chula! Most animals feared the jaguar, and rightly so. She was a

fierce

hunter, swift and deadly. He had seen her in action himself, and was

grateful that she was his friend. These two creatures couldn't know

that she

was not there to harm them. Without further thought, Joxer sprang

from the

branch, grabbing a vine and swinging over the head of the dark one to

land

between his chosen and Chula. Growling in his friend's tongue, he

warned

her, "They're afraid. Go back!"

Confused, Chula replied, "But I don't plan to hurt them."

"They don't know that. Go on - I'll handle it." She hesitated, and he

snarled in impatience. Giving up, the jaguar turned tail and left.

Crouching in a non-threatening stance, he turned to the beautiful

female and

comforted her in orangutan, "Don't worry, she's gone now. She wasn't

going

to hurt you." The female's face still looked troubled, and now she

looked

confused as well.

Xena was almost in shock when the pale golden figure shot through the

air

above her and landed in front of the jaguar. Then there was growling

and

snarling between them, and the big cat retreated. Turning, the man

hunched

down and began to screech at her best friend.

For it *was* a man - a tall, lean man, dressed in nothing but a

loincloth,

with long chestnut hair streaming down his back. Otherwise, his

golden body

seemed nearly hairless. The muscles of his arms and chest, as well as

his

upper back were sleek and firm, and his legs also appeared powerful.

Afraid

to lower the knife, but somehow comforted by his appearance, she

approached

slowly. Gabrielle saw her, and held up her hand. Never taking her

eyes off

the figure before her, she called, "Stop, Xena. He saved me. I don't

think

he means us any harm." Then she lowered her hand, and held it out to

him in

greeting - like one would offer one's palm to a strange dog to show

you're

not a threat.