AN: I just watched King Kong last night (NOT for the first time - I'm not that behind the times) and had to get this off my chest. Short, sweet, and hopefully worth reading. Enjoy!

Disclaimer : I swear, King Kong is mine, Peter Jackson stole it from Meeeeee! (Desert Thief whacks Rose over the head)

(Pouts) Okay, I lied. King Kong does not belong to me - not that I'd have room for him in my bedroom anyway . . .

One Last Night

Jack's arms and legs screamed in protest and his throat felt like it was on fire, but he didn't stop, knowing it would be the death of him if he did. He was in an extremely awkward position, with one arm wrapped crudely around Jimmy's chest, supporting him, and the other trying to pull them both through the water. The boy was still conscious, but with only enough strength to cough and splutter in Jacks arms as the filthy liquid tried to force its was down his throat.

The older man was just reaching the limits of his strength when he felt a pair of arms grab him roughly under the shoulders and haul him up. The next thing he knew he was lying in the boat, just about ready to pass out. The men in the boat were starting to row towards the Venture, all of them looking as bad as he felt. For a moment he just lay there, trying to gather his scrambled mess of thoughts.

Suddenly, it hit him that Ann wasn't in the boat. Fatigue fled from his body as he grabbed the arm of the man nearest him, which just happened to be Bruce Baxter.

"Where's Ann," he choked, still panting heavily.

Any other time the actor probably would have brushed Jack off as filth on his jacket, but he clearly couldn't find the energy to do more than pull away slightly, a tired scowl on his features. Jack couldn't help but wonder what women saw when they looked at Bruce on screen. Sure, he was handsome enough, but the man was just so - fake. He clearly cared more about himself than any of the ladies who swooned after him.

"Don't freak, your gal's fine," he said, his tone of voice clearly suggesting that he thought Ann wasn't worth all the trouble he'd experienced in the last twenty-four hours. "She got taken back to the ship a while ago, kickin' and screamin' like she didn't appreciate us savin' her damn life."

Yeah, right. Like Bruce had done anything for Ann, coward that he was. But Jack was too relieved to feel any anger at the man.

A small choking sound made him look down. Jimmy was still lying in the boat beside him, and didn't look good. Jack felt his heart shatter into pieces as he looked at the boy. He wasn't sure exactly how old Jimmy was, but he decided that he couldn't be any older than fifteen or sixteen and had already been through more, both physically and emotionally, than any grown man could imagine in his wildest nightmares. Less than a few hours ago he had lost the one man who he'd really cared about - a gorilla the size of Jack's old apartment building had killed him and very nearly killed the rest of them. From the way Jimmy had desperately shot at the beast with his rifle earlier, Jack could tell he blamed everything on Kong. That was until he'd thrown the rowboat and everyone in it into the ocean with one vicious swipe of his paw.

Now the youngest crew member looked defeated, as though there was nothing in the world left living for. He was clearly on the verge of tears again, and shivering violently from his sudden cold plunge. Jack didn't know what to do - he was smart enough to know that words could offer no comfort for the distraught boy, so he just gently lifted Jimmy up from the floor of the boat and held him tightly against his chest. The youth didn't try to resist, just leaned against Jack and let the tears run down.

The man sighed and looked around. The rowboat was surrounded by floating wreckage and broked glass from the chloroform bottles they'd used to subdue Kong. It rather reminded Jack of a battlefield. On the shore lay the beast himself, lying sprawled across the sand as sailors swarmed about him. He didn't know how Carl planned on getting him all the way back to New York - the gorilla looked far too big to fit in the cages below the ship, but by now, Jack wondered if there was anything Carl Denham couldn't do when he was determined enough. Personally, the writer thought it was madness to try and do anything of the sort, but he was much more worried about Ann. He didn't know what had happened after Kong had taken her, but the fact that she was more willing to stay here, on this accursed island, rather than let him be captured made him wonder what had occurred between them. He was sure she hadn't lost her mind, but it was brain-boggling to think that that beast could have feelings.

Either way, there was nothing either of them could do about it. Englehorn had lost a good portion of his crew and sustained a lot of damage in going along with Carl's little escapade, but knew that if they indeed managed to bring Kong back to New York, it would mean money. And Carl Denham owed him a lot of money. Nothing Jack could say would change the stoic captain's mind and he knew it, so he decided to concentrate on getting himself, Ann, and the others back home safely.

By the time they finally got back to the Venture, Jimmy had drifted into unconsciousness, the cold and fatigue, plus numerous injuries, finally taking their toll. Ignoring his body, which was forcibly telling him to do the same thing, Jack gathered the boy up in his arms and carried him onboard. He was actually surprised at how light he was.

After receiving some brief instructions from an irate crew member, he managed to take him down to his cabin, which he used to share with Mr Hayes. There was one fairly large bed with a smaller kip-bed in the corner. His heart wrenching painfully, he gently lowered Jimmy into the kip-bed and pulled the covers over him. He didn't know what was going to happen to the lad. With Mr Hayes gone, would he still want to work on the ship, or would he get off at New York, try and get an education like the man had wanted him to? There wasn't much Jack could do about it - it was Jimmy's decision. He didn't even know exactly why he felt so responsible for the boy. Maybe it was because he had no one else to turn to now his mentor had gone.

Jack sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. There were three things he wanted at that moment and they were all screaming to be acknowledged first. They were sleep, food, and Ann. Each need was extremely strong and he didn't have the energy to deal with them all at once. However, he knew that Ann would have to be in a worse state than him - after all she had been through he felt rather selfish that about his own woes.

So, banishing all thoughts of hunger and fatigue to the far corners of his mind, the writer forced himself to get up and go out into the hall. He presumed Ann would be in her cabin resting, so navigated his way through the ship's endless corridors towards her room.

As he ploughed on through the narrow halls, he felt extremely uncomfortable, as though he was tresspassing on a ghost ship. So many deaths had occurred in the last twenty four hours; fatigue and his over-active imagination had teamed up on him, making him feel as though each empty cabin he passed echoed with the ghost who used to reside there.

After what seemed an eternity, Jack finally arrived at the door of Ann's cabin. It was closed, which at least told him she was in there, but, for some reason, he paused before opening it. He finally acknowledged the certain amount of hesitancy that had been building up inside him for the past few minutes and realised he was scared she might reject him. An unbidden memory of Ann fighting his hold as the others drugged and captured Kong, screaming to be let go, entered his mind. Did she blame him for the gorrilla's capture? Did she think he should have done more, try and convinced the others to let him go? Did she hate him?

He refused to think of such things, but his body still refused to obey his orders to open the door. After a minute or so of repeatedly lifting his hand to knock then letting it fall back uselessly to his side, and a lot of mental verbal-bashing about his cowardice, a small spark of anger made him quickly ball his hand into a fist and rap on the door a bit too quickly, before he lost his nerve.

Silence. His hesitancy was replaced with concern for the young actress on the other side. Was she sleeping? He tried again, tis time calling out softly, "Ann?"

Still there was no answer, so, swallowing his trepiditions, Jack finally grasped the handle and gently opened the door.

"Ann? Are you alright?"

He resisted the urge to bang his head irately on the door. What a stupid question! From the way she was sitting on the bed, still in that filthy dress, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, beautiful blue eyes staring fixedly ahead with teartracks running down her face, it was quite clear she wasn't all right. She didn't even look like she'd heard him.

Sighing, Jack closed the door gently behind him and made his way over to the bed and sat down on it beside her. She still didn't acknowledge his presence, which sent fresh tingles of fear through him, this time for her sake. Her unmoving, icy posture made him think for a fleeting second that she might be dead. He forcibly drove that notion out his head.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Jack gently reached out and grasped her shoulder. Ann jumped suddenly, as though electrocuted, and looked around with wide eyes, as though only just noticing him.

"Oh, Jack," she whispered. Then, without warning, she flung herself into his arms and buried her face in his filthy shirt, clinging to him like a lifeline. Jack was painfully reminded of the way Jimmy had reacted in the insect pit. Only Ann wasn't crying - she seemed to have run out of tears and was just content to be held and comforted, secure in the arms of the man she had begun to think of as her love.

Jack held her tightly, resting his head on top of hers and stroking her angelic golden locks in a soothing manner. There was no need for words; he would be there for as long as she needed him, silently offering his love and support through the simple means of human touch. The sky was starting to darken outside, signaling the impending night. The writer didn't know what the future would hold for he and Ann. All he knew was that, as long as they stayed together, locked in that warm embrace, the world could no longer harm them. The couple fell asleep in each other's arms, listening to the sound of the waves and knowing that, for one night at least, they were safe.

AN: Well, there you have it. You might think it's sweet, you might think it's sappy, you might think it's the most dreadful thing you've ever read - but I won't know unless you tell me!

RosylaGypsy