Part 3

Jack sat silently in the darkness of the stalls, carefully watching the rehearsal, mentally noting down everything he thought warranted improvement. He smiled a little to himself as Sally McKenzie surreptitiously glanced his way, almost missing her next cue in the process. She couldn't possibly see him here, hiding beyond the dazzle of the lights, but she knew he was out there, watching everything that happened with sharp, scrutinising eyes. She said that he made her nervous, that she wasn't used to such close inspection especially from a writer of all people. That was probably why she was off to Hollywood so soon. There people wouldn't be looking at her acting anymore, just how well she fitted the dresses and whether or not her make up was perfect. Despite her insecurities though she was definitely a talented actress and it was a pity to lose her from the theatre entirely.

Although if it meant that Ann could take her place then it was a sacrifice he was more than willing to make on both a personal and professional level. As good as Sally McKenzie was, Ann was perfect. The role had been written for her after all. Sally just didn't quite possess the same deftness of touch, the same way of pulling at an audience with every glance and look that Ann seemed capable of without even knowing what she did. Jack would have been quite happy to fire Sally at the start of all this and put Ann in her place, but his producer Mr Weston had talked him out of it, reminding him that a lawsuit was not a good way to get a new play off the ground. And Ann had been happy enough about it too, agreeing with the reasoning, saying that she could easily handle the chorus line for another six weeks. But Jack knew that until she was on that stage, speaking his words, he would never be entirely happy with what he saw in front of him and so he had to temper his criticisms some what, for once trying to take a step back and let his director do his job unaided.

He glanced up as he heard the sound of someone moving and smiled to see Ann herself walking carefully along the row behind him, taking a seat to his right. He tried not to wonder why she hadn't come and sat directly next to him, instead focusing on the fact that after a long day, he was very pleased to see her.

"How's it going?" she asked, leaning forward to whisper to him so that she wouldn't disturb the actors on stage.

He nodded, "Good. Better than it was."

"Did you sort out the second act?"

"Yeah, kind of."

He had a feeling that Ann wasn't entirely listening to him though because she didn't question that at all, instead just looking at the stage. The joy on her face could have almost made him believe that she was simply enjoying the performance if it wasn't for the hint of wistful longing in her eyes. She wanted to be up there, no matter how much she tried to hide it, telling him that the chorus line was just fine. It still ate at him that he had it within his power to make that dream happen for her but he let it slip by in favour of money and politics.

He shifted a little in his seat, turning his attention entirely towards her, knowing the least he could do was be attentive and caring.

"So how were rehearsals?"

She nodded, managing to just about tear her gaze away from the stage.

"Fine," she stated simply, clearly having nothing else to say on the matter. That was all she ever said, that was 'fine' or 'okay'. And he guessed it was, but he could fully understand why she couldn't be more animated about it.

He frowned a little, noticing even in the dim light of the stalls that she looked paler than normal. She'd been on the verge of getting a nasty cold for days now and he was worried that that and the nights in the theatre were taking their toll.

That's what he was supposed to do, wasn't it? Look after her. Even though half the time he didn't believe he had either the means or ability to do so. And from what he could tell he seemed to be doing a pretty poor job of it so far.

"You okay?" he asked, pressing his hand lightly to her forehead, just to check. She didn't have a temperature, which was one blessing.

"Fine," she reassured yet again, pulling back a little from him, as always not wanting the fuss. He understood that she was used to her independence, used to looking out for herself. He just wished that once in a while she'd surrender a bit more easily and let him sort things out. Let him do something for her.

"Have you had dinner yet?" he continued, running his hand down her arm and taking her hand, not willing to let the matter drop even though she was trying to brush it aside.

She shook her head dismissively, "Don't worry about it. You need to finish your rehearsal."

"Hey," he scolded, softening his face to a smile when he realised that that had come out a little more frustrated than he had intended, "Don't start, okay? I'm prioritising here."

Ann smiled slightly at that and he grinned wider in return.

"Besides," he added, "I'm starving too. Why don't I run to the diner across the street and get us something?"

Her smile broadened and she shuffled closer, sitting on the very edge of her seat, her pretty face brightened with sudden, unexplainable joy, "What a little picnic for two in the stalls? How romantic!"

"Give me a chance okay," he said with a small laugh at her teasing, "I'm trying."

"Well I think you're doing just fine," she stated, a very slight shyness coming over her, a blush tainting her cheeks. Ann wasn't the sort of woman who was used to admitting her feelings so freely, that he'd quickly learned. He got the sense that she'd been burnt more than once in the past by being so open, but it felt like prying if he was to ask her about it.

Jack couldn't resist the urge to kiss her at that moment, the playful, happy look on her face just too appealing, trying also to encourage her that it was okay to say things like that. That he wanted to hear them and it just made him love her even more. The softness of her chilled lips under his was so intoxicating that he didn't even notice that the house lights had come up until he heard someone holler.

"Hey Romeo! What did you think?"

He quickly broke away from Ann and turned to see his director, Derek Harlow, standing there with his hands firmly planted on his hips, looking up at them. He was an absolute bear of a man, appearing more suited to the building site than the theatre, but he was easily the best director Jack had ever worked with.

"It was great, Derek," he reassured, "Just great."

Harlow chuckled, "I wasn't talking about Ann, you know! How you doin' sweetheart?"

She smiled coyly and gave him a quick wave.

Jack turned to her, "Stay here. I'll pop over to the diner and be right back."

Not waiting for her reply in case she tried to argue again, he stood up out of his seat, nimbly working his way through the row and down to where Harlow was waiting for him.

"It was great, really," he reassured, patting the other man on the arm, "Couple of bits and pieces here and there but it's just minor stuff."

Harlow raised an eyebrow, "From what you saw of it anyway, huh?"

Jack looked mildly sheepish, "Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Jack, son, relax," Harlow said with a broad grin, shaking his head, "If you were more interested in this play than that girl, then I'd be worried. It's about time you got yourself a life."

Jack grinned slightly self consciously in return.

"I remember what it was like when I first met my wife," Harlow continued, a delicacy to his words and features that Jack wasn't used to, "I just knew straight away that she was the girl I was gonna marry. I couldn't wait to ask her."

Jack's eyes immediately turned skywards. For reasons apparently only known to himself, Harlow had single handedly set himself up as a father figure to Jack, giving him advice and calling him 'son' as though he was talking to a man much younger than one who was approaching thirty. Jack was sure that he had decent intentions, but he liked to keep himself to himself and his private thoughts private. He had always been a thinker and had never been happy about doing something until he got it straight in his head and could do it on his own terms. He wasn't used to being barracked like this at every turn.

"I'm gonna do it," he said with mild exasperation, "I'm gonna ask her."

Harlow snorted a laugh.

"Oh yeah?" he said almost scornfully, "When would that be then? Next blue moon? Or the one after that?"

Jack shook his head, not wanting to get into this again, "I...I'm just waiting for the perfect moment, that's all."

Harlow looked at him sceptically, "And who says there is any such thing?"

A little flicker of doubt jolted inside Jack. Harlow was right of course. Now was as good a time as any, he should really just get on and ask her. But he didn't have the words yet, and words were ever so important to him.

"Look," he said, avoiding the conversation entirely, "I'm just popping out for a moment. Be back in five okay?"

"Sure," Harlow said with a nod, holding Jack's gaze with a knowing look for a moment before turning to those still assembled on stage and hollering loudly, "Take five everyone!"

Jack picked up his coat and hat from one of the front seats and waved quickly at Ann before hoping up onto the stage and out the back. Slipping out the stage door, he wrapped his coat tightly around himself, wondering how the air was still so icy in May. It was unnatural.

Walking along the darkened alley, heading towards the brightly lit street ahead, he was so busy wondering what Ann would really like to eat that he didn't even see the guy coming the other way until he near walked into him.

"Hey, sorry pal, didn't see you," he admitted, holding up his hands in apology at his carelessness, going to side step around the other man.

The guy just stepped straight back in front of him.

Jack looked up, frowning in confusion, although he had no time to form any coherent thoughts about it before a fist swung at his face.

The blow wasn't a knock out one, but the shock of it sent him stumbling back to the floor, his hat falling away. He regained his composure surprisingly quickly, staggering to his feet as an instinct to defend himself that had been well honed on Skull Island kicked in. Ignoring the blood flowing freely from his nose, he swung a punch of his own, knocking the other guy away and to his knees.

"What the hell's your problem!" he shouted down at him, his shock at the sudden attack coming out as anger.

But Jack's anger made him careless and he didn't see the second guy coming at him from the darkness to his left until moments before he barreled into him. He fell to the ground once more, cracking his head with a sickening blow on the hard floor. A solid kick to his ribs and a second to his stomach tried to ensure that he didn't attempt to get up again, but the blow to his head had already left his whole being so spinning and confused that that wasn't a possibility anyway.

He lay there almost numb, surprised at how one of the major things he noticed was how cold and hard the floor was beneath his cheek, even above the pain. He swallowed hard, ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth and trying to clear his mind so he could think. He rather wished he hadn't bothered when he realised that the main street was still a hundred yards away and far too noisy and busy to hear any cry for help that he might make. All he could hope for was that this was a simple mugging and they'd just take his wallet and leave.

He laughed a little at the idea that a mugging could be a pleasant outcome to any situation, and immediately wondered if the blow to his head was more serious than he originally thought. Now was not the time to lose his senses completely.

Either way, he guessed he was about to find out what their intentions were as two shadows loomed over him. He tried to get up, tried to listen to the screaming voice inside his head that was urging him on, but his body was betraying them both. He barely seemed to have the strength to breathe let alone get away.

And then, much to his immense relief, a sharp cry split the air.

"Oi!"

Running footsteps were heard then and within seconds one of the shadows was literally lifted away as though snatched up by some great hand. Jack could hear sounds of a scuffle and the cries of his two attackers, but his vision only fully cleared in time to see two people running into the distance and then the ever so welcome silhouette of Derek Harlow leaning over him.

"Jack, son, you alright?" he asked with concern, shaking him a little.

Jack groaned.

"Yeah, I think so," he winced, rolling onto his back and shrugging Harlow's hand away, "Stop that. You're rattling my brain."

Harlow offered him a hand and Jack used it to sit up, the world spinning sickeningly as he did so, a large part of his brain still numb with shock. It'd all been so quick, so out of nowhere.

"Careful," Harlow instructed, ready to steady him as he swayed dangerously, "Give yourself a minute. That's quite a pretty blow to the head you have there."

"Really," Jack replied dryly, somewhat annoyed with the world as a whole right at that moment and not as grateful as he should have been, "And here's me thinking it was just some miners drilling their way out of my skull."

Harlow shook his head, ignoring Jack's words, "Lucky I came out, huh? Was just gonna join you and get a coffee. You know I can't stand that crap Weston's secretary buys us."

"Yeah," Jack said with a nod he insistently regretted, making an effort to calm himself into reason before his voice turned more solemn, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Harlow assured, giving him one of his gentler slaps on the back. He looked down the alleyway in the direction Jack's attackers had retreated, scowling fiercely, "Damn muggers. People got no respect for others anymore. I don't care how desperate you are, that ain't the answer. They should send scum like that straight into the army, that'd sort them out."

"Yeah," Jack said with a bitter laugh, "Give the violent men guns, great idea."

Harlow grinned slightly, chuckling at him, "Well you're still spouting your political trash so you can't be that hurt, huh? Come on, let's get you back inside so Ann can fuss over you. Might as well get some benefit from this."

He wrapped an arm around Jack, supporting him firmly and he hauled him to his feet. Jack found his knees unsteady and his balance all but gone, but that wasn't what disturbed him. It was the thought of Ann seeing him like this that made his stomach even sicker, made him somehow uncomfortable. As stupid as it sounded, he felt like he was letting her down. But it was hardly something he could hide.

As soon as they re-entered the theatre, people began fussing around him, asking him what happened and if he was all right. Harlow led him to one of the dressing rooms, dropping him on the couch before telling one of the stagehands to go and fetch Ann from the auditorium.

"No," Jack protested, trying to get up again, "Really, she doesn't need to-"

"You, shut up and stay there," he ordered, pushing Jack back to the couch, needing only the slightest of touches to topple his unsteady balance. Satisfied that the writer couldn't go any where even if he tried, he turned to the little group hovering in the doorway, barking orders at them about getting some water, cloths and a stiff drink.

Even with people sent off on errands, the crowd in the doorway began to grow and Jack was starting to feel like one of the animals he and Ann had seen in the zoo just days before, a curiosity on display for all to see. The crowd only parted when Ann herself shoved her way forcibly through them, pushing aside anyone who stood in her way whether they were twice her size or not.

She ground to a halt as she saw him, mouth dropping to a gasp at his appearance and as much as he hated the fact that he felt ashamed, he couldn't help it.

"Oh my God…" she whispered in shock, hurrying over to sit next to him, instantly brushing her hands across his face, testing him, making sure he wasn't as broken as he probably appeared. "What happened?"

"Damn muggers," Harlow muttered, shaking his head in disgust, "Decent people just can't walk these streets anymore without running into scum like that."

For a moment, Ann looked bewildered, almost more shocked than Jack himself did. Then two of the lighting crew arrived, carrying a bowl of water and a couple of cloths and she sprung into action. Ann was good at the practicalities of life, she was good at surviving and getting on with things when they needed doing. Taking both the bowl and the cloths, she pulled the small table over so she could rest them there whilst she cleaned him up.

Jack tried to turn his head away, not wanting her to have to do it, still feeling bad somehow. Like he wasn't doing his job.

"Don't be stupid," she scolded, forcibly turning his face back towards her, "Stay still."

There was no arguing with her when she was in this kind of mood so he compliantly did as he was told.

"Well, that's just great," Harlow barked, turning to crowd in the doorway, "And where's the drink?"

"Here's Mr Harlow," one of the young stage hands said, appearing right on cue, handing him a glass of whiskey that Jack guessed was from the bottle Harlow kept hidden in the filing cabinet in his office, even though everyone knew where it was.

Ann frowned.

"Really," she insisted, "I don't think he should be drinking with his head like this."

Harlow chuckled hollowly.

"It's not for him sweetheart, it's for me," he replied before throwing it back in one gulp. To Jack's surprise it seemed even the unflappable Harlow was a little unnerved about what had happened. Jack really hoped that that wasn't testament to how dreadful he actually looked.

"I also found this in the first aid box," the kid added, handing Ann a bottle of antiseptic, "Thought it might help."

She smiled gratefully as she took it.

"Thanks."

"Come on then people!" Harlow hollered after a moment's pause, jumping out of his seat and ushering everyone out the door, "This ain't no peep show. We've got a rehearsal to get through. I think we can leave him in the capable hands of Miss Darrow."

He winked at Jack, who rolled his eyes in return, before the door was shut and he and Ann were left alone.

For a least a minute, although it felt like longer, she worked in near silence, washing the blood from his face, careful to make sure that the cuts and grazes were clean.

"These aren't deep," she eventually stated, more reassuring herself than informing him, "You won't need stitches."

He nodded but said nothing.

When she was finished, she unscrewed the lid of the antiseptic bottle, pouring a generous amount onto the remaining clean cloth.

"This may sting a little…" she warned before wiping it across the cuts on his face.

Jack near hit the ceiling.

"Jesus Christ!" he cried out, gritting his teeth as he tried to hold still, "Is that meant to be helping!"

Ann smiled a little.

"Men," she teased with an exasperated shake of her head, "They can face the jungles of hell for you but try to clean a little cut and they fall to pieces."

"Hey," he said, having to keep talking, saying anything to take his mind away from the stinging agony radiating from his face, "I just want you to be sure that's antiseptic and not acid you're applying."

"Positive. Wouldn't want to ruin that handsome face of yours now, would I?"

He smiled a little at that, still squirming slightly but loosening his death grip on the sofa as the pain began to subside.

"Well I can't be sure," he joked, "You once thought a sound guy was a better looking version of me."

She smiled a little too at the memory, "Well I was right about one thing. You are much more handsome in person."

Jack's grin widened at that, although it made him wince slightly. He didn't know how she did it, but somehow Ann always managed to make him feel better. That was when she wasn't making him feel worse, of course. Ever since he'd first laid eyes on her she had had the power to unwittingly either make him feel like the best man in the world who had rightfully won her heart, or the lowest loser who didn't deserve her and would never be good enough. Great highs and huge lows. There were no in-betweens and it wasn't easy to live with all the time. Was it meant to be like this? Or was he just as bad at this whole relationship thing as he suspected he was?

"Are you sure you're all right?" she asked, putting the cloth aside finally, moving herself to the sofa, slowly shifting closer to him.

Jack sighed deeply, relaxing a little, settling back into the sofa and content to close his eyes and just feel the comfort of Ann's fingers trailing softly through his hair.

"Better," he admitted softly, realising that despite his reservations, he was very glad she was here after all. There had to be give and take right? He had to relax. He couldn't be the only one doing the 'looking after' all the time.

"I'm sorry," she muttered and Jack cracked open one of his eyes to see her looking troubled. She shook her head when she saw his questioning glance, "You were out there because of me, if you hadn't-"

He grabbed her hand firmly.

"Shh," he instructed, "Don't be silly."

"You could have been seriously hurt," she said gravely, "Or worse."

He shook his head, "This stuff just happens, okay? Especially in this city."

"Yes," she pointed out, "But why does it have to happen to us? I'm starting to think that a peaceful life is too much to ask for."

Jack reached out and pulled her towards him and after a moment's hesitation Ann snuggled into his side, sighing in contentment as he hugged her tightly even though his bruised ribs protested at the action.

As her fingers trailed lightly across his chest, sending shivers right down his spine, he smiled slightly to himself. This moment almost made the beating worthwhile.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Ann admitted softly, her voice a soft whisper in his ear.

"That's something you don't have to worry about," he insisted, "Things are gonna be fine, I promise."

And he was going to make them so. He was going to make everything work out or die trying. It was simple logic because he knew he could no longer live without her.

Velleda stood, watching the smoke trail from his cigarette whirl into the air, dance in front of him and vanish to nothing. Despite his placid appearance, he wasn't a patient man and his limited forbearance was rapidly wasting away.

He turned, seeing his current employer sitting in a car which hid fearfully in the shadows. Velleda didn't fear this city though, didn't hide from these darkened alleys where to simply pass through them was to invite trouble. No, the city feared him because he challenged it. Because he stood up and said he was not afraid. He hadn't been afraid when he'd seen his father gunned down, nor when his mother had died. He hadn't been afraid when he'd been taken from the orphanage and put to work in the hellish conditions of the ship's boiler room. He wasn't about to start being afraid now.

He knew things had not gone according to plan when he saw the men running towards him, empty handed so to speak. He didn't even have to ask, they instantly began to explain themselves, hoping he would be lenient.

"I'm sorry, sir," the bolder of the two said, catching his breath, "We tried. Some guy got in the way."

Velleda nodded but didn't reply, letting them sweat about their fate. Within moments, his employer was by his side, throwing a fit just like Velleda expected he would.

"Where is he?" he demanded, part furious part worried, "Do you have any idea what's at stake here? We don't have time for screw ups! This isn't good enough, Velleda, it simply isn't good enough!"

"It's not a problem," Velleda stated, telling him rather than reassuring him.

"But-" the other man started again before Velleda held up his hand to stop him, indicating down the second alleyway to their left. In the distance there was the clear outline of two men dragging an unconscious third between them.

"Things are working out just nicely," Velleda promised, before smiling slightly, "Besides there is more than one way to tackle this and I think that my way has a much better value of persuasion."