Finale: Bye Bye Blackbird

The chorus girls at the De Luxe are called forty-five minutes before the curtain goes up, at eight.

Ann's late.

"What took ya so long?" asks Jean as Ann rushes in, shedding her coat.

"I got distracted," Ann mutters as she sits down, already reaching for her hairpins.

Jean starts to say something dry, but Tabitha catches her eye and shakes her head. Tabitha was there in September when Ann was hired, and she recognizes the look in Ann's eyes. It's the same look she had when a few of the blondes came in chattering about auditions for that Driscoll play; it's the same look she had after a few men came to speak quietly to Ann and offered her some kind of contract, and she told them off.

Tabitha's never asked about what happened to Ann before the De Luxe hired her. She just hopes the girl'll get through the show. If one girl messes up, the whole line looks bad.

Ann, meanwhile, brushes on lip color and tries not to think about the Cry Havoc! poster she walked past to get here, nor the crowds filling up Times Square for Denham's show. She can't focus, though -- not on the show, not on her makeup or her costumes.

She makes it through three numbers all right, with a carefully forced smile on her face. A soloist takes the stage, giving the girls time to hurry backstage and change into the spangled dresses for Henry's big number.

No one here can love or understand me, Ann barely hears as she strides for the dressing rooms, Make my bed and light the light, I'll arrive late tonight . . .

Ann's gut twists. It's twenty after eight. Jack will be watching his stage comedy -- It's for you, memory whispers -- and she'll be the furthest thing from his mind, no doubt; and Carl will be well into his spiel, displaying Kong despite her best efforts . . .

Someone grabs her arm and hisses for her to get into place, and she goes, and moves stiffly through the first steps of the choreagraphy.

But when they stand and spin, she finds that she can't move for fear she'll faint.

The spotlight moves over her face and sparkles off the tears in her eyes.

Blackbird, blackbird, blackbird, bye bye.

Finale: Found

When Ann hears screams out on the street, she bolts for the door. Nobody stops her -- in fact, a few of them follow behind her, more slowly.

It doesn't matter that she'll lose her job at the De Luxe. What matters is that Kong has gotten loose -- and Ann knows that, deep in her heart, though she can't explain how -- and that they'll try to hurt him, and he'll kill them, but she can stop it.

So she pauses long enough to figure out from which direction the crashes are loudest, and then runs.

It's December; after a few blocks she realizes that she can see her breath in the air. Not to mention all this running makes her back hurt where it never seemed to quite heal after Skull Island. She slows to a fast walk, still headed for the sound of squealing brakes and crashing masonry.




And then there he is.

"Oh--"

He pauses, and turns, and stops when he sees her.

They take a few steps toward each other -- beauty and the beast -- until Ann can reach out and touch his fur, harsh as she remembers it.

One big hand reaches out and cups gently around her. It's the most natural thing in the world to wrap a balancing arm around his thumb and let him lift her.

As Kong knuckles away from the scene, Ann finds herself smiling so hard her cheeks hurt, for the first time in months. She never really registers the cab with the smashed front end that they leave behind.

Finale: Beauty Killed the Beast, pt. 1

Ann has to admit that being on the outside of the top of the Empire State Building is a little nerve-wracking.

But she also has to admit that the view is one she'll remember for the rest of her life.

Kong looks out at the sunrise and, with his free hand, taps his chest a few times. It takes Ann a moment to understand.

When she does, her face lights up.

Softly -- "Beautiful. Yes, yes it is!"



It takes her another moment to notice the buzz of propellers.

Finale: Beauty Killed the Beast, pt. 2

Gunfire splits the air one last time. Kong jerks.

Ann watches every last second.

Things seem to move impossibly slowly. She registers the slight spasm of Kong's body, the buzz of the planes moving off, but all she can see are his eyes, huge and brown.

The black of his pupils bleeds into the brown as he dies.

Ann can only watch.

The ape's grip loosens. He slides backwards. Ann rushes forward, as if she can somehow stop him, and falls to her knees at the edge of the landing as he slides completely off the roof.

The angle of the landing means that the body is out of her sight long before it lands. But then, her vision is already clouded with tears.

She doesn't hear the impact, but she doesn't need to. She's certain she feels it vibrate through every bone in her body.

And then there's no point in holding back the sobs, because she's so cold, and so alone, and he's dead.