“Tangled”

by Sep


[The following material is a speculative fan-fiction based on the characters of the television series "Tarzan", airing on the WB network. It is written purely for entertainment purposes and no copyright infringement is intended. ]

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Honor and love to Travis.
S.E.P [ 11-03-03 ]

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Part 2

"I'm here." It was all she could say as her legs uncurled and she shifted her weight to face him. " I just needed, I need…"

"You need?" He said with a look that slowly seemed to put a half-mischievous smile onto his face. "What is it you need?"

She got up and moved past him, not saying anything but thinking over her own voice that moments before had told her why she'd sought out this place. The greater truth was, she had sought out John himself. It was nothing easy to understand and it nearly brought her to tears every time the all too real feelings for him presented in her mind. Lately, night and day, the image of his face, of his body, and most of all, the image or knowledge of the way he felt for her would come when she least expected or needed that distraction. Still, it was the truth, and in it all she was grieving. The whole affair over Michael's death hung in the air around her, calling her to mourn, to feel for him still, to love him even though he was gone, and she did.

"Jane?" John's voice and John's footsteps coming behind her. Not Michael's. John, here in the present. John, wild and unbroken by the heartbreak of life. "What is wrong? You are not feeling right."
This was a statement and not a question as he said it. His senses, aside from anything he felt for her told him such things. She sat down on what he'd evidently been using as a bed and looked up at him. He moved toward her slowly, in the graceful way she'd come to picture, but she wasn't really looking at him. The walls behind him, covered in vines and dampness held her gaze, and all she could do as he approached was shake her head. If only it were easy enough to boil down what she was feeling about everything into some nominal answer that wouldn't only confuse him more. There was no way to say she was thinking about Michael, John's plight with his Uncle, and above all, about him. She could tell him those things, yes, but deep inside she felt that if she did, with no certainties, it might only make him believe that there was a promise and a future contained in her words, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him. Strong as he was, there was no doubt in those eyes of his that he could be hurt as deeply as he cared.

"John, I don't want to talk about me. Please. I've had an incredibly long day, a long week even, and I just want something else."

"Something else?" She laughed a little at the way he often repeated her words in question form. Was it because he didn't understand or was he trying to make her think about the meaning of her own statements. That was the cop in her, thinking about his thinking, and she shook her head again. It was oppressively hot in the room tonight, and as she stood, she removed her blazer and sat it aside and noticed the scenery close to her. There were magazines on the mattress he'd laid there, a barely touched tray of food and a portable CD player. Ah yes, his new toy since he'd seen and heard her sister's. It made her smile and she got up to walk out onto the open balcony, high above the city. He followed behind her, still studying her for clues. Finally she turned to him.

"Tell me about your home John. Tell me about how it was to be there with nothing but the jungle. I want to hear what it was to you." He was surprised and showed it in a broader smile as he too stepped out onto the concrete patio and stood with the wind messing his hair. With only one more glance her way, he sprang up to the edge of the balcony and landed in a crouch. She wondered if he was leaving, maybe to let her dwell on those thoughts, or worse, maybe she'd touched on something he didn't want to talk about. Instead of finessing himself down the wall, he turned, and sat with one leg tucked underneath him. He looked as if he might fall off at any moment and as she sat down in one of the iron chairs, she must have looked visibly concerned.

"Don't worry for me. I won't fall. All the time, you see how I move." He laughed.

"Well, yes, but…"

"You want to hear me say about the jungle. What it was like there. It was nothing like the city but you know. It was dark and beautiful. It was green, and wet. All the things I wanted, I had. Food, a place to sleep. Here, there is too much noise, too much …" He gestured, trying to find the right word. "Too much in the air that is not good. Too crowded here. Sometimes I want to run and run and run until I find a place with no one there but me." He went on, and she could see him imagining the scenery in his mind. It was just what she needed to take her own thoughts away and as he spoke she could imagine along with him what it must have been like to live in such conditions. Yet he was so young when his parents plane had crashed. Sure, a man as he was now would have no trouble surviving, but what about when he'd been so small and alone. The thought of that alone was enough to bring tears to her eyes, and she wouldn't have asked him about it for anything. That, she knew, was too much pain for him to easily talk about. Maybe someday they would be there, at a place where he could speak of such things, but it was all too knew to him now, being in a huge Metropolis like this and having so many things to adjust in his life. A thought occurred to her.

"Don't you want to go back John?" She asked and watched his reaction as he came out of his reverie. "With Richard and all of what it's been like so far for you, here, don't you want to just go back and be free again?"

He considered her words and silently jumped down from the ledge. The flash of his eyes as his head turned away was puzzling, and as he strode past her and into his bedroom proper, she followed. She was about to tell him, oh hell, to tell him anything in apology. As she stepped into the room, he had disappeared, but came out from behind the door abruptly, half scaring her to death as had become his fashion.

"I can't go back there now." He said. His head shook with the statement, dropping thick strands of his blonde hair into his face. She moved without taking her eyes from him, yearning for one of the chairs in the far corner of his room. As she started past him, he grabbed her arm. For seconds, he didn't do a thing, he didn't even seem to breathe, and then he let loose in a way that would change her forever.