Title: Rough Absolution

Part: 1 of ?

Pairing: Ann/Jack

Rating: T

Warnings (for the whole fic): Violence, mildly suggestive themes

Spoilers: This is a sequel, so the whole film is fair game.

Summary: Five months after Kong's demise; America is still at the lowest point of the Great Depression, Ann and Jack are tentatively trying to start their life together, Carl is still in hiding and the SS Venture has not been seen since. They are the only people in the civilised world however who have precise knowledge of Skull Island and its inhabitants, information that some would consider priceless.

Disclaimer: PJ's just too cool to try and steal anything from him although the plot is mine and he's not having it.

Part 1

Ann stood silent and still by the cage bars, a small delighted smile gracing her parted lips as she tried desperately not to frighten off the little creature as the noisy children had done when they had run past moments earlier. When it finally once more stepped fully out of its shelter, eyeing her with wary suspicion, she allowed her smile to widen a little but remained otherwise deathly still. It looked at her for a few long moments, cocking its head in an almost bird like fashion, trying to sum up whether or not she was a threat or a friend. Eventually though, like it had with so many of the people in this city of late, the needs of its stomach won out and it shot towards her, picking up an orange segment from the branch nearby and then retreating a few feet away to eat it.

Ann continued to watch patiently, still not moving except to smile at the little creature's every curious glance and head tilt. It was studying her too as it hurriedly ate, as if torn between interest and caution, not sure which to trust. Apparently it came to the final decision that maybe she wasn't so bad after all, because the second time it moved towards her much more slowly, still wary but not running now. It cautiously picked up a slice of apple between its dextrous paws and sat not a foot in front of her, eating contentedly, still watching her with wonderful curiosity.

According to the faded, washed out sign next to the cage, it was a Cotton-top tamarin, a type of small monkey. It certainly was small too, barely much bigger than the squirrels that ran around the park outside, although it had much bushier fur and a rather proud looking crest of long white hair on its head that made it look more impressive. And no squirrel she had ever seen had exhibited a look of such thought and intelligence in its eyes as this creature was able to possess.

When it had finished eating for the second time Ann had expected it to retreat back to its shelter once more, its interest in her lost now it no longer needed to be worried about her presence. Instead, and much to her surprise, it came closer still, stretching up its front paws and placing them on the bars so its face was level with hers, coming in for a better look. It squeaked at her merrily, trying to say something she had no hope of understanding. Sounded friendly enough though.

"Well hello there…" she greeted in a soft tone, her delighted smile widening to new levels.

Whatever it had sounded like to the tamarin he seemed to appreciate it because he reached down and picked up a grape, holding it out to her through the bars.

"Why thank you," she said with a slight laugh, going to take it but unable to resist stroking her fingers across the soft, tiny little hand first, "You're a sweet little guy, aren't you?"

"Do I have competition I should know about?"

Startled, the small monkey squeaked loudly in alarm, dropping the grape and bolting off back to the safety of its shelter.

Ann turned with a look of scolding to see that Jack had indeed rejoined her once more.

"Not now you scared him off, no," she pointed out dryly.

He had the good grace to look mildly apologetic.

In a spirit of forgiveness Ann linked arms with him, pulling him away from the cage and continuing along the path, knowing the little creature wouldn't be coming out again any time soon.

Central Park Menagerie was apparently closing down in a few weeks. For remodelling according to the signs on the gates. With things the way they were though Ann feared it would never reopen and in a couple of months they'd give up on the idea all together and sell the animals off to other zoos. She'd been coming here since she was a little girl – it had always been one of the few treats she could persuade her mother to take some time out of the theatre and rehearsals for – and it didn't seem right that she should let it go without one final visit. Nor without sharing it with Jack; one of the few parts of her past that wasn't connected to the stage, something different, a part she could give him openly as gesture of how much she wanted him in her life as a whole. It was like she was sharing a part of who she was.

Even though she had a feeling that he understood the significance of it, she wasn't entirely sure how much he appreciated the experience on the surface. Even before the incident of five months ago she wasn't convinced that he'd been much of an animal person, and all that had happened had certainly done nothing to change his mind. But he seemed quite content to walk around here with her, waiting patiently by her side whilst she carefully studied the inhabitants of each cage as though she understood them a lot more than she should. What she had been through had certainly given her a deeper appreciation of them.

Seeing the menagerie in such a state of disarray - a shadow of its former self, the animals seeming to wear the same veil of depression the people of this city did -was a disheartening sight and a small part of her questioned whether coming here had really been such a good idea after all. But Ann had needed the fresh air, needed to get out in the daylight for a while instead of spending her days in rehearsal ready for her nights in the show. Besides, she could feel a cold coming on and she couldn't afford to be ill right now. Fresh air and exercise could help.

And Jack was here, of course. Nothing seemed quite so bad to her when he was around.

She grabbed his arm a little tighter, pressing herself closer to him as they walked. As perceptive of her as he always was, he immediately looked down with a mildly concerned frown.

"You okay?"

She smiled reassuringly.

"Perfect."

Which was a lie, of course. Perfect would be being able to sign herself as Mrs Ann Driscoll. Perfect would be not having to say goodbye to him every night. Perfect would be waking up in the morning with his arms around her, lying there longer than she really should just because she couldn't bear to tear herself away from his embrace. But she understood Jack well enough to know that he took his time with these things. That they required consideration and careful thought. He didn't want to say anything so important if the words weren't perfect. She understood that and could give him his time.

Only she had hoped he would have asked before now.

Banishing the thought from her mind, telling herself she was being silly – he was half killing himself to get his new play up and running perfectly, and once that was sorted he'd ask her then for sure – she tugged on his arm slightly, pulling him in a new direction.

Tigers were next. Well, tiger now, although she distinctly remembered there being many more when she was small. Those animals were probably dead by now though and the menagerie didn't have the funds to replace them. The last remaining one hardly looked in the first flush of youth either, sitting at the back of his enclosure, all faded nobility. His coat wasn't in the best condition and he was probably a little thinner than he really should be, yet he sat with pride, his battle scarred face speaking of how he had earned the right to do so. It reminded her very much of another creature…

She had no idea how long she stood there, gazing at the animal, some kind of magnetism not letting look away until he wished her to do so. It was a power she didn't think people were meant to be able to understand. When she finally came back to awareness of her surroundings, she realised that Jack was gone, no longer at her side. She quickly looked around, surprised, although she didn't know why she was so worried – it wasn't like she was going to lose him now. They were safe here.

She spotted him standing a few feet away, a troubled look on his face as he carefully studied a piece of paper he was holding. As though feeling the weight of her gaze on him, he suddenly looked up, hurriedly folding the paper away and placing it in his pocket, doing a terrible job at not looking guilty.

"What's that?" she asked as she walked over to him, unable to help herself.

"Nothing," he brushed aside.

"Oh," she mouthed, looking away, not liking how she sounded like a sulking child, but not being able to hide it. The thought of Jack wanting to conceal something from her chilled her slightly. It made her worry, brought out that little paranoid side of her that had always been adamant that good things never lasted and which was waiting patiently to be proved right once again.

Jack immediately took the paper out of his pocket once more.

"No," she insisted, shaking her head, telling him to put it away and ignore her silliness, "I understand. It's private."

"It's a letter from Carl," he explained with a slight sigh, an air of apprehension around him.

So that's why he'd been so secretive. Since they had last briefly seen him just before his self imposed exile from New York, neither of them had mentioned Carl Denham's name. In fact, they had barely mentioned the whole incident at all, even though sometimes Ann wished she felt comfortable enough to bring it up as a subject of conversation. Jack didn't seem to want to know though or, to be more precise, he wished to forget. To move on with their lives and live them in the here and now, which Ann guessed was the sensible thing to do. Even if there were times when she desperately needed to tell him about the nightmares she still had on occasion. But she couldn't and so she always ended up comforting herself. It was something she'd gotten used to since she was a child.

"Oh," she said again, just to fill the sudden silence between them whilst she thought of something more productive to say, "How is he?"

Jack shrugged, "Okay, I guess. Managed to get himself a job directing radio commercials in Chicago."

Ann nodded gravely. From what she understood of Carl, she had a feeling he would hate such a job and the look on Jack's face, who had known him much longer and much better, confirmed it. No room for art and self expression in that kind of business. You were not bringing anything wonderful to the masses there. And although she still bore him ill will in some ways, she could sympathise with him at that. It reminded her a lot of her own current situation.

And with the sun just beginning to dip over the horizon, she knew it was a situation she should be returning to, like it or not. With some reluctance, she turned to the path leading towards the exit, taking Jack's hand and guiding him along with her.

"I should be getting back," she explained, at his curious glance, "Rehearsals start in an hour."

She felt Jack sigh, even though he tried to hide the automatic reaction.

Being a chorus line girl was hardly her dream job but it did pay the rent and feed her without compromising her dignity to base levels, which right now was realistically the best she could hope for. Jack didn't like her doing it, positively hated it in fact, although she had a feeling that was mainly because she clearly disliked it so much herself rather than because he had any true objections of his own. Still, it was only a few more weeks. Six to be precise. Forty-two days and she'd finally be on the stage in a proper theatre, performing in one of Jack Driscoll's plays. It was always much easier to bear something you would have found otherwise unbearable had there been no end in sight. Besides, she point blankly refused to let him make another actress unemployed just so she could get a job there. She was content to wait it out, wearing pretty dresses, prancing and smiling an empty, fixed smile until Sally McKenzie's contract was up and she left for LA to try for the ever blooming movie business. Leaving behind her a gap in Jack's cast that he insisted Ann would be perfect to fill.

When she looked up and saw the expression on his face, she immediately stepped in front of him, stopping him in his tracks. He instantly avoided her gaze, not wanting her to see the troubled look on his face. He really did worry too much.

She reached up and pushed his hat back a little so she could see him.

"Just stop that, okay?" she instructed gently, "It's alright."

"But you hate it," he pointed out in exasperation, not for the first time, "It's not what you want."

"It's not forever," she reasoned, "And it could be much worse."

She couldn't avoid an involuntary shudder as the thought of the burlesque house came to her mind once more, reminding her how very close she had come to surrendering her decency for a pay check.

Jack wrapped his arms protectively around her.

"I keep telling you," he said, a beseeching tone in his voice, "You don't need to worry about money, I could-"

She put her fingers to his lips to silence him.

"Don't," she warned, not wanting to hear that offer again. She'd already turned it down a dozen times at least. "I don't need charity," she insisted, "I can earn a wage. I can look after myself."

"That's the point," Jack reasoned, "You don't have to anymore."

She smiled at his words, even though a small part of her looked skywards at them. It was some kind of male natural instinct she guessed, even though it ignored the fact that she'd lived in this city alone since she was thirteen and she'd done okay for herself so far. But to be fair to him, considering that within weeks of them meeting she had nearly been devoured by the jungles of Skull Island and its inhabitants, it was hardly surprising that he was more protective than needs be. Apparently she wasn't the only one susceptible to a little undue paranoia. Still, it was nice to feel really looked out for, even if it did take some getting used to.

"I think you've saved me enough for one life time," she pointed out, with a smile, "For which I am ever so grateful."

He raised a playful eyebrow, forgetting their troubles for a moment, "Just how grateful?"

"Very," she assured, going on tip toes to kiss him, glad when he met her half way.

When they pulled apart, her hands resting on his chest, a sudden flush to her cheeks in the sharp spring air, she saw two women tutting and shooting them disapprovingly looks at such a blatant public display. Ann just smiled though, not caring whether they thought it was appropriate behaviour or not. In harsh times like these you took happiness wherever and whenever you could get it.

Taking his hand, they continued to walk, out of the menagerie and passed the shanty town that had sprung up in Central Park; home now to the masses of unemployed and evicted. Things hadn't exactly improved much in the last few months but at least they hadn't gotten any worse. People were beginning to say that this was rock bottom, that it could only get better from here on in. And Ann certainly hoped they were right. It was about time everybody here got a break – there was only so much people could take.

And yet Ann didn't think things were all that bad as they were. At least not for her they weren't. She had her adored playwright and soon she would be starring in her first real play. She so very nearly had everything that mattered to her; she was even starting to believe that maybe the impossible could happen and that little paranoid voice inside her head could be silenced once and for all.