Rated: PG
Warning: Death and violence
Notes (by Lori): This is in answer to SUJE Costume Challenge number three - to wit:
Challenge #3 -- Baby Joxer is separated from his family and raised by wild animals a la Tarzan. Write a story where this AU Joxer meets up with Xena and Gabrielle. REQUIREMENTS: animal skin loincloth, a "special skill" for Joxer, swinging on vines, and talking to animals.

I have worked with Susan in the past, but mostly as an editor. This is the first thing we have actually co-written. Actually, this is the first thing I have ever co-written outside of RoundRobins, and we had a ball with it. We took turns writing sections, passing them back and forth with only the briefest of discussion about details, and I think it came together nicely.

This was originally released as a Work In Progress on the SUJE list. It is now completed, and I had promised to share it with my other lists, so here it is. I had done considerable editing on the various parts while we were writing the others, but somehow, when I redid my harddrive, the files I had backed up didn't include this one. So I'm cutting and pasting from the original issue, and since it was unbeta'd, this is even more so. Sorry.

The barge drifted down the overgrown river in Borneo. It was 1877, and a young woman was sitting on a bench rocking her young child. Her name was Lady Janine, and she was on her way to meet her husband Lord Malcolm, and her other two sons. They had gone on ahead with the help. Her youngest son had been sick and not able to travel, but now he was better. She cooed at him in his basket, and he smiled up at her.

The entire trip had been difficult, and plagued by one mishap after another. But, suddenly something seemed even more wrong. The men were shouting at each other. Lady Janine's baby was grabbed by one of the men, who shouted, "This child is the cause of our bad luck. Let's throw it to the alligators." Most of the crew were local natives, a superstitious and pagan lot, and although the woman was afraid of them, her husband had assured her by letter that she would be perfectly safe.

"NO!" Lady Janine screamed as she grabbed for her child. The man took his knife and stabbed Lady Janine in the chest. The last thing she saw before she died was her child being tossed into the river. The men watched as the basket drifted down the river. One sympathetic man placed his hand on his heart. "May the Gods be with you, child," he whispered.

The basket carrying the baby drifted down the river. A figure from the trees saw it, and wondered at the strange item. The watcher was a female orangutan. She ran down towards the banks of the river and took a stick and pulled the basket in. Looking into the basket, she saw the child, crying. The orangutan picked up the boy and held him. She had just lost her own baby to the cruelty of the jungle, and she still had her milk, which the hungry child found and began to drink. The orangutan held the child close and began to climb the tree to the place where she lived.

"Mamma," Joxer whined to Sheera, "Jett won't let me have any of the termites he found. He said Jace could, but I couldn't." The female orangutan that had rescued the baby from the river those eight years ago looked up from the new child she was feeding and smacked her lips in annoyance.

"Joxer, how many times do I have to tell you not to let your cousin intimidate you? I know all three of you boys went searching for that nest together, and you have every bit as much of a right to your share as Jace and Jett have to theirs." She looked indulgently at her eldest child - her sister's children treated him badly and called him "pale and hairless one" behind her back, she knew. She had asked her sisters to talk to the boys, but children were difficult. He was more slender than the other children, with hair only on his head, that hung to his shoulders in a shade of dark brown that contrasted with the red fur of the rest of the family. She had helped him fashion a breechcloth from the skin of a dead elk that they had found, and he wore it tied at his waist, because the other males found that particular portion of his anatomy even funnier than the rest of his smooth body.

Only his eyes offered any threat to the other creatures of the forest. He had a look that would sometimes cross his face when he sensed danger that terrified those who saw it - she had seen him use it purposely only once, when a panther refused to listen to reason, although he had spoken wisely to it as it circled an injured baby hippo. Sheera had screamed her warning to her son, and the killer had laughed the small hairless ape off, until she looked directly in his eyes. That panther disappeared in terror, never to be seen in their part of the forest again.

Besides, Sheera was also aware that her sister's boys would not allow any of the other adolescents to tease or abuse Joxer in front of them. They truly cared about him, but he was such an easy target for their childish pranks and the power plays that young males practiced in preparation for mating someday. She sighed at that thought - most of the young males left after fifteen cold seasons and found a female to mate with, but her child was not yet drawing the eye of any of the females around, and that seemed unlikely to change. Even his cousins, after only eight cold seasons, had admiring females. They were handsome boys. Joxer was indeed too different for most tastes, although she found him perfectly beautiful.

"Hey, Keenan," he cooed at his baby brother, making faces. The little one, who adored his older sibling and had no idea that he was anything different, giggled. Having finished his meal, he held his arms out, and Joxer plucked him up, tossing him high a few times to the baby's vocal enjoyment.

Sheera had to admit - her mate had no more use for the little one than he did their adopted child. His only comment after the birth had been, "At least this one looks normal." Then he had lumbered off to hunt, and was gone for several days. He had never fully accepted Joxer as his son, although she was beginning to think it had less to do with the boy than her mate.

She reclaimed her youngest from his brother. "If you don't mind, son, I'd like his meal to remain within him where it will do the most good. Now, go find those cousins of yours, and reclaim what you are due." Keenan chittered in happy baby talk as Joxer loped off to see if there were any of the delicious termites remaining. If so, he was going to bring some home to his mother.

"Joxer!" Sheera called into the leafy dampness. Her eldest son swung from branch to branch, moving smoothly until he landed on the wide natural platform where she waited.

"Yes, Momma," he answered, looking at her gently. As he had aged, those soft, gentle eyes of his had grown more threatening in anger, and many of the animals knew and feared his gaze. Now that he was fully-grown, he stood head and shoulders above the other males when fully upright, although his body still looked frail in comparison. His shoulders were wider, his arms shorter, his legs longer than the other young males. One by one, his cousins of similar age had found females and left the family group. Jett, for one, had a large family group of his own now. Only Joxer and Jace remained - neither had found a mate among the neighboring females. She had to admit that Joxer's mating cry didn't sound quite like the rest of the males. Jace had never even tried.

Her boy had admitted that, in spite of the fact that he found her beautiful, as only a child could see his mother, the females he had met didn't appeal to him. Still, he was looking, he assured Sheera. As it was, she found it comforting to have him there to help her. Keenan, after twelve cold seasons, was becoming rowdy and difficult. But he worshipped and usually obeyed his older sibling, so often, she relied on Joxer to tend to him while she cared for the young female that had been born almost four seasons ago.

She reached out for her boy, who crouched in the normal waiting position. Absently grooming his dark chestnut hair in affection, she almost hesitated to ask for what she needed. "Joxer, dear, would you take Keenan with you today? I have a lot to do, and he isn't usually a lot of help with Raylan. In fact, he usually ends up making her cry."

As if called, the little female skittered into the nest, squealing at the sight of her oldest brother. "Joxer, Joxer," she cried, bouncing to his shoulders, then into his lap, chattering the whole time, "Momma's gonna show me where to find figs! I love figs! Can you come too, can you, can you?" Finishing up while swinging from his forearm as if it were a branch, she turned shining, pleading eyes on him.

He gathered her into a hug. "I'm sorry, Raylan, but Keenan and I have," he hesitated, looking darkly at his mother, "plans. Maybe next time."

Her disappointment was there and then gone like the butterfly, flitting away in the face of a new excitement. "Okay. Momma, can I go tell Teera? I see her over there." Without waiting for the answer, the little one was gone, swinging eagerly through the trees and calling her cousin's name.

"You say you want me to mate, but no female is going to look at me with a child tagging after me," Joxer complained without spirit to his mother.

"I heard that," his brother's youthful voice interrupted. "I am not a child! Raylan is a child." The nearly full-grown male landed in the nest, pouting. His expression mirrored perfectly that of the tiny female that had just left.

"Okay," Joxer answered, amused, "You're with me today, Mr. 'Not A Child'. Let's go - I'm supposed to meet Chula in a little while." His brother pulled away as the elder messed his fur, but followed eagerly and willingly, swinging behind him on his way.

As Joxer and Keenan came to the clearing, Joxer told his brother not to make a sound. He had to see if the coast was clear. Keenan snorted - he was not afraid of anything, and yet Joxer sometimes still treated him like a baby. "I'm not a baby."

"Quiet "Joxer ordered. He slowly looked around and tested the air for any strange or unfamiliar smells. It seemed safe, and he was about to call for Keenan, when suddenly something jumped on him and knocked him down.

"Guess who"? teased the growling voice.

"Chula, will you please get off of me?"

The young female jaguar moved off and sat down. "You know, Joxer, you really are no fun sometimes."

"Yeah, well you're getting bigger, and a lot stronger."

"Don't worry Jox. You know you're safe. You and me are friends." She looked at his brother. "But I am kind of hungry."

Keenan was frightened but he stood tall before Chula. Joxer stepped between them. His eyes were narrow, and he was glaring at her. Chula backed away. "Hey! I was just kidding." She decided to change the subject. "Hey, Jox, I saw some strange animals today. They look something like you."

"You mean they're orangutans?"

"You know, Jox, I'm not the smartest jaguar in the jungle, but I do know that you're different from the other orangutans. You have very little fur, you're taller then the rest of the males, you have no cheek pouches, and your mating call is terrible."

"Hey, it's not that bad," Joxer defended.

"You haven't mated yet, have you? That should tell you something." She could tell he was getting annoyed with her again. "Come on - I'll show you. Tell the squirt to stay behind."

Keenan did not want to be left behind. "Joxer, I'm coming, or I'll tell mom that your best friend is a jaguar."

Chula looked at Joxer. "Your mom doesn't know?"

Joxer shook his head. "She wouldn't understand."

Chula laughed, "Yeah, mine wouldn't either. If I still had one."

Her name was Gabrielle Taylor, and she had just turned eighteen years old. By this age, she should be married or at least betrothed, but Gabrielle was a spitfire, and no man could tame her. She wanted to be an artist, not someone's wife. Her best friend and bodyguard was a woman in her early twenties named Xena. Xena had been chosen to be Gabrielle's bodyguard by her father, Sir Reginald Taylor, because Gabrielle had refused to consider a male bodyguard.

She was now in the camp in Borneo with her canvas, getting ready to paint.

Chula, Joxer, and Keenan watched her through the bushes. Joxer just stared. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Keenan noticed his look. "What's the matter with you?"

Joxer looked at him. "Are you kidding? She's beautiful."

Keenan just shook his head. "I think she's ugly." He looked his brother over. "Almost as ugly as you are."

Joxer turned on him. "Well, I don't, and I am going to give her my mating call."

Chula and Keenan both backed away. Chula looked around nervously. "You know, I really gotta go hunting. See ya later."

Keenan climbed up a tree. "I think it's safer up here."

Joxer ignored them and stood tall, letting out his mating call.

Xena watched her friend and charge setting up to paint. "I dunno why you 'ad ta come ta the bleedin' rain forest ta paint," she complained. Since Gabrielle traveled in high society circles in London, Xena was careful there to modulate her Cockney accent and speak in cultured tones. Out here, in the middle of nowhere with only her best friend, she could relax and not be concerned about her elocution. "Criminey, it rains all th' damned time!"

Gabrielle could help but release an unladylike snort. "That's why they call it the rain forest, Xena. And we came during the dry season - I could have really made you suffer, and come during monsoon season." She belted on the smock that would protect her fine clothing - her proper Victorian father had chafed at allowing her to come all the way to this island with only a guide and her erstwhile bodyguard, but given in. She could not, however, convince him to allow her to wear the more practical men's trousers. She supposed she was lucky to be here at all. "Besides," she continued mildly, "the rain is the reason they have such beautiful flora and fauna here."

"Ya mean th' plants?" Xena saw her friend roll her eyes and nod. The bodyguard settled into one of the fancy chairs that the native guides had set up before they left. As was the upper-class fashion, they brought with them everything they possibly could in order to simulate their home life in London. Their tent had a heavy wooden floor, and real mattresses on the beds. They even had small chifferobes for their clothing. The food, however, was not going to last long, and their guide had gone into the woods to hunt and forage for the women.

Growing up orphaned and poor on London's South Side had taught Xena a lot, and one of the things that had helped her survive had been her instincts. Her instincts now told her not to trust their guide, Drake O'Malley, farther than she could throw him. He was a native of Borneo, but had been taken off the island at a very young age and educated in England by a missionary group, one of whose members had adopted him. His dark skin and hair were the only resemblance he bore to the other native guides he had procured to move their belongings, and even when he spoke their language you could hear the British accent in his words. His clothing was impeccable, and his manners sublime. But his eyes were wild and frightening, and Xena couldn't help but feel that she and Gabrielle were merely convenient tools that would help him get whatever he was really here for. She didn't care for the way he looked at Gabrielle, either.

Gabrielle had been the only good thing in Xena's life, ever. They had become friends when just in their early teens, when the younger girl had been caught out on the streets in a terrible rainstorm without her umbrella, and taken shelter in a doorway Xena had already occupied. The little blonde was friendly and outgoing, politely ignoring the other girl's shabby condition. When the storm ended, she had taken her new friend back to her palatial town home in the finest area of the city, and demanded her father allow Xena to stay. Sir Reginald had never really known how to refuse his headstrong child, and after many legal inquiries, it was decided that Xena had no blood relatives to object, and would stay at the Taylor household.

The girl from the streets was educated and outfitted alongside the daughter of one of London's leading families, but she never entirely lost the wild child she had been. So when Gabrielle began to wheedle for the trip to Borneo to paint the scenery, her father arranged for Xena to have formal training in the arts of personal protection. His first suggestion of a professional bodyguard had been met with near violent opposition, and so, the friend and foundling became the guardian. She would have already given her life for the blonde, but now she had the skills to really do something, should she ever be threatened.

She was about to make an idle comment about the heat and humidity, just to stir up the young painter, when a cry, something not quite human, ripped through the camp. Gabrielle dropped her brush as Xena leapt to her feet. The blonde woman's heart had almost slowed down when she saw the big cat creep from the brush toward her. She screamed herself.

Joxer saw both the females react to his cry. He was satisfied that he now had their attention. His best friend slunk up behind him, resting her jaw on his shoulder as he crouched, waiting. "Looks like it worked, Jox, but on the wrong one," Chula growled quietly in his ear.

Sure enough, the dark one was moving smoothly in his direction, a shiny object in her hand. "I'll go talk to the other one, while you make your apologies to this one," Chula chuckled. "Otherwise, you could end up with the wrong mate. I gotta say, I never thought that cry of yours could attract a single female, let alone two." She slunk through the trees toward the smaller of the two strange creatures.

Xena held her knife at the ready, and cursed Drake for taking the gun. They only had one, and she knew that he needed it for hunting, but still... Quietly, she crept in the direction of the cry, hoping that whatever had made that ungodly sound was in danger itself, and not a danger to her or her friend. A rustling of leaves let her know that whatever it had been was still there. She was nearly to the spot when Gabrielle screamed.

Joxer was startled - most females didn't cry out in return. Then he saw the dark one spin, and he could smell their fear. Suddenly, it registered - Chula! Most animals feared the jaguar, and rightly so. She was a fierce hunter, swift and deadly. He had seen her in action himself, and was grateful that she was his friend. These two creatures couldn't know that she was not there to harm them. Without further thought, Joxer sprang from the branch, grabbing a vine and swinging over the head of the dark one to land between his chosen and Chula. Growling in his friend's tongue, he warned her, "They're afraid. Go back!"

Confused, Chula replied, "But I don't plan to hurt them."

"They don't know that. Go on - I'll handle it." She hesitated, and he snarled in impatience. Giving up, the jaguar turned tail and left.

Crouching in a non-threatening stance, he turned to the beautiful female and comforted her in orangutan, "Don't worry, she's gone now. She wasn't going to hurt you." The female's face still looked troubled, and now she looked confused as well.

Xena was almost in shock when the pale golden figure shot through the air above her and landed in front of the jaguar. Then there was growling and snarling between them, and the big cat retreated. Turning, the man hunched down and began to screech at her best friend.

For it was a man - a tall, lean man, dressed in nothing but a loincloth, with long chestnut hair streaming down his back. Otherwise, his golden body seemed nearly hairless. The muscles of his arms and chest, as well as his upper back were sleek and firm, and his legs also appeared powerful. Afraid to lower the knife, but somehow comforted by his appearance, she approached slowly. Gabrielle saw her, and held up her hand. Never taking her eyes off the figure before her, she called, "Stop, Xena. He saved me. I don't think he means us any harm." Then she lowered her hand, and held it out to him in greeting - like one would offer one's palm to a strange dog to show you're not a threat.

Xena watched as he friend offered her hand. The wild man took it, and pulled it to him. The former child of the streets had spent so much time with proper English gentlemen that she expected him to kiss it, and was startled when he sniffed it instead. Then he ran his fingers tenderly over the palm, and Gabrielle giggled.

She smelled - different. Like the first of the warm season, when the bright flowers were blooming. And her hand was so small - and soft. He ran his finger over it, and she made a beautiful sound that reminded him of birds trilling in the woods. Yet it was like his - not as calloused as his, but he had always been teased by his fellows because he lacked the leathery hide they had on their palms. And she was without it also. He held his hand up, fingers spread, and after a moment, she pressed hers to his - her fingers barely reaching to his first knuckle. She smiled, shyly.

An idea was forming in the artist's mind. This was obviously a man - he may not act human, but he clearly was. He seemed to speak some odd language. She pointed to her palm. "Hand." He tilted his head quizzically, and she took his large fingers in hers. Pointing, she said, "Hand." She repeated both actions, and this time, he mimicked after her.

"Hand." His voice was deep, and seemed to surprise even him. She reached out and touched his flowing chestnut locks.

"Hair." She took his hand and began to move it towards her, but he pulled away, and she waited, anxiously. Reaching out a finger, he curled a blonde tendril that had fallen into her face around it.

"Hair?" He looked at her for approval, and she gave it, nodding and smiling widely.

Then she laid her palm on her chest, and said, "Gabrielle."

He repeated her actions, palm on his own chest, stating with confidence, "Gab-relle!" Xena guffawed and the artist scowled at her.

"No, no, no." She shook her head, and his face fell. Thinking for a moment, she circled her palm over her face, then using both hands to indicate her entire body with a sweeping motion. Then she placed her hand on her chest again, and said, "Me, Gabrielle." Pointing to his chest, she said "You?"

He pouted in concentration, then smiled a little. Placing his hand on his chest, he announced, "Joxer!" She repeated his name, and he nodded in confirmation. Then he turned and pointed to Xena, the question on his face that he had no words for yet.

Walking over to her closest friend, Gabrielle pointed and explained, "Xena." Joxer followed her, repeating dutifully. Having another idea, the small girl pulled the taller one to her with one arm around her shoulders. "Xena friend." She released her bodyguard, looking at her for reaction rather then the wild man.

She let out a small scream when Joxer pulled her to his chest in a crushing hug and announced with joy, "Gabrielle friend." She stiffened for an instant, and only Xena's uncontrolled mirth relaxed her. Still, the combination of her friend's laughter and the blood pounding in her ears as she realized just how strong, how masculine this place was where she had found herself, kept her from hearing Drake O'Malley's voice when he called, promising to save her. But no one in the area could help but hear the gunshot ring out.

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