Her Story by AndromedaMarine
Less than a week ago she'd been standing in front of that horrid theater, debating with herself whether or not to go in and offer herself for money. She needed the cash and her stomach was screaming for food, but Ann's heart told her it wasn't right. Throwing down that card took her in the right direction. Feeling the small crumpled form of paper fall from her hand released that weight that'd been driving her towards the theater. She ignored the gnawing in her stomach, ignored the biting wind against her legs, ignored the clumps of well-fed rich men who winked at her as she walked past.
If Carl Denham hadn't stopped her aimless route she didn't know where she may have ended up – certainly not on the Venture in the company of Jack Driscoll and Captain Englehorn. But she couldn't dwell on that now. King Kong was in the cargo hold, forcing Jack into a dead man's cabin, just up the corridor from her. She couldn't think of either beast – human or animal. Jack had been a beast, holding her back from the treachery that Carl dealt the gorilla; he was a beast for avoiding her and not trying to understand why she felt that way about Kong. She remained in her cabin until they steamed into New York Harbor, where she left without a word, even to Jack.
Less than a week ago she'd held the play he'd written for her in her hands, bewildered at why he'd do such a thing until she saw the deep emotion in his eyes. Those words were laced with something more than "Isn't it obvious?" She never would have imagined herself kissing Jack Driscoll – or, as it were, Jack Driscoll kissing her. As she walked away from the Venture she was sure she felt a ripping in her heart, as if someone still on the dreaded ship had kept a part of her with him. She didn't have to guess – she knew. It wasn't Kong, no, because the animal never really held her heart. She knew it was Jack. The part of her that shredded was his play – her play. Ann Darrow wanted to turn back and be held by the playwright again, but her feet kept moving forward.
Less than a week ago Kong had captured her, causing Jack to come after the aspiring actress, and it was less than a week ago that she knew she loved both man and monster.
Standing atop the Empire State Building had been a little bit of a wake-up call. She couldn't have been with Kong even if she wanted to; which was to say that the King had only occupied a small portion of her heart. Three little letters – one word – had kept her from following the beast off the tower.
Ann Darrow shook her head, tears worming their way onto her cheeks.
She wanted to run into his arms but her feet were rooted to the floor –
This was her story. "Jack," she breathed into his shoulder, accepting the embrace she might have fallen away from. She couldn't say anything else to him as he held her close, keeping her from certain death or heartbreak. She needed to tell her story.
While Skull Island changed everyone on the Venture the cursed place affected Ann and Jack the most. Words were definitely not enough when it came to describing how she felt about Kong and Jack. But then again, it wasn't about the words.
It was about the impulses.