Nightmares
Summary: In which Roger remembers a far away island, in which he nearly forgot who he was, and Ralph is there to ease the fear.
Warnings: Uhm... Fluff, certainly, maybe mild cursing, also probably some graphic island imagery.
Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Flies
A/N: Hello again! I am back, after being gone for quite a long time, and I've got several things in store! Mostly lots of fluff drabbles, but also a shiny new chapter for my other stories~ I'm not procrastinating, I swear.
It was not often that Roger was bothered by a nighttime thunderstorm, on the contrary, he usually found the pounding of the rain upon the rooftop to be quite soothing. But every now and then, the pouring rain and howling wind would cause him to remember a different time. A time of hot, angry, endless summer, pigs, paint, and spears. Roger had spent countless hours firmly suppressing any inkling of a memory of the island that he had, which still worried Ralph, if only because he didn't know what would happen if it all came out again. Not that Ralph hand't tried his hardest to forget every possible memory of the island as well, but he was a different case. The island hadn't had quite the same affect on his as it had had on Roger. As it were, Roger found himself caught in an awful dream as the rain poured mercilessly and the wind blew furiously. Beside him, Ralph slept, unaware of the horrors that plagued his love.
The sun hung lazily over head, beating down upon the tanned or blistering skin of the handful of boys who had been captured by the island. From his hiding spot deep in the shadows of the trees, Roger watched idly as some of the littleuns scampered about on the scalding sand, war paint running down their faces, necks, chests as they terrorized each other. They darted in and out of the water, careful not to stay in one place for too long, should they get attacked by the others. They were trying to imitate one of the hunts, he observed, and he was merely waiting for one of them to simply move close enough...
Spear in his hand, Roger was crouched expertly, unusually dark green eyes watching, waiting. A wicked grin twisted itself upon his lips as one of the littluns strayed closer to where he hid, silently encouraging the child. He vaguely recognized the child - Jonny, maybe? - but pushed it aside as the child came within range. Fast as lightning, Roger lept out and expertly pinned the screaming child to the ground, the sharp end of his spear gently stabbing into the back of the child's shoulder. Roger pushed the spear deeper for a moment, and a small river of crimson dribbled over the tanned skin. The other lit tuns had screamed upon seeing him and either run away, or were simply to frightened to move. Roger grinned, reveling in the scream as he twisted the end of the spear for a moment.
He quickly grew bore of this, however, and withdrew the spear, picking the child up by one of his arms. The child was sobbing, much as he'd expected, and the tears had washed away most of the remnants of the war paint. Roger snorted and rolled his eyes, grinning. "Well, well... Look at you, pretending to be a hunter." he laughed coldly, turning back towards the forrest. "It's great fun to pretend, but let us see how you will do against the real thing." he grinned. The child wailed in response, blubbering loudly. For the most part, there were no discernible words, but Roger became very acutely aware of what was being said at the mention of him. Roger, who had been unceremoniously dragging the frightened child through the forrest, halted and turned to look a the sobbing boy with the cruelest, coldest glare that he could muster. "What did you just say?" he snarled icily, bending down slightly to be more on eye level with the child.
The boy shook violently now, deathly afraid of what was going to happen. He knew that if he lied, he would get hit. He also knew that if he didn't lie, he would probably get hit as well. He knew it was guaranteed if he made Roger wait for an answer. The furious snarl and tightened grip told the child that he was rapidly running out of time to come up with something; so he repeated - truthfully - what he had said. "I-I miss R-Ralph... Y-You w-weren't as s-scary when h-he was ch-chief..." The child stuttered. Roger looked honestly surprised by this, and was thrown off kilter for a moment. The child was offered a false sense of hope that he would make it out without further abuse... Boy, was he wrong.
A deep anger almost instantly settled over Roger and the child watched in horror as Roger gave a hell raising grin. "You think you miss Ralph, do you?" he laughed humorlessly. "You know nothing." he hissed, his fingers becoming like talons as they dug into the tender flesh of the child's arm. The boy whimpered pitifully and the growl that escaped Roger's throat was anything but human. "If you though I was frightening before, you haven't seen anything yet." he promised.
Somewhere in the back of his head, Roger could hear the shrill screaming of the child, the begging and pleading, and then the eery silence that had followed. There had been blood... So much blood, and no matter how hard he'd tried, he couldn't seem to wash it off. He had spent hours scrubbing at his skin until it was raw and bleeding, screaming in an effort to break the crushing silence that plagued him. It wasn't until three days had passed that Roger went back and buried the poor child, whispering endless apologies. But it hadn't ended there...
The island was all ablaze and screams choked through the thick, smoke clogged air. The vibrant orange and yellow of the flames made it hard to see a way out of the forrest, and it was only made more impossible as the trees fell, scattering white-hot chunks of wood and debris everywhere. Roger had been fortunate enough the be relatively close to the outskirts of the forrest, though it was gut wrenching having to listen to the frightened, pained screams that seemed to emanate from everywhere. Roger had been swift as he ran through the burning forrest, only vaguely remembering what he was supposed to be doing... Something about him. Something about Ralph... All thought abandoned him, however, as his feet touched down gratefully upon the sand of the beach.
That's where it hit him, what he was supposed to be doing. It was very different from what he had done, however. In the distance, he could see a tiny thing, a spec really, with smoke rising from the top. It seemed to be growing nearer, and for a moment, Roger felt something akin to joy rise up in his chest, but it was dashed by the very sudden, very real scream of pain. Roger would have recognized the voice anywhere, and everyone on that damned island knew it. Especially Jack. A small number of the large handful of boys that had landed on the island remained, but it was of little consequence to Roger anymore. As the stormy eyed boy turned his gaze from the horizon to the beach, the sight that met him silenced all thought and instantly made his blood boil.
Ralph, his beloved, sweet, charming Ralph, was doubled over in the sand, covered in blood. From the few audible sobs, Roger knew that the blood was his... His gaze shifted from Ralph to Jack, who held his now bloodied hunting knife, wearing a malicious grin. The remaining boys noticed the sudden darkness that seemed to radiate from Roger, but Jack was blissfully unaware. Perfect. Roger grinned to himself then, scooping up a rather large rock from the shore and stalked foreword silently. The other's watched, only vaguely aware of the nearing ship, and as Jack moved to stab Ralph again, they all learned that Roger was a hell of a lot faster than anyone gave him credit for. The knife had just barely touched Ralph when a blood curdling scream came from Jack. Half of his face now cut and bloodied from the rock, he tried desperately to find who had done this, only to feel the same, sharp, tearing pain along his ribs, his arms, legs, back, anywhere that he couldn't manage to protect himself.
At some point, Maurice and Robert had to haul Roger off of Jack, whilst SamnEric tended to Ralph, and bill pried the rock from Roger's grasp. Roger was furiously fighting with all he had to get out of their grasp and slaughter Jack, and Simon - who had miraculously survived - knelt next to the bloodied mess of a redhead and begged Roger to stop. No words reached him, though, not until Ralph spoke... Or screamed, really. Without looking at him, Roger knew that it was not simply because of physical pain, though there was that... No, it was from fear and heartbreak. At the sound, Roger stilled instantly, the dark hue leaving his eyes as his fury subsided into silence. No more were his eyes the frighteningly dark green, but now the lighter, stormy shade that Ralph had once fallen in love with.
Roger kept his gaze trained on the sand in front of him though, not wanting to see the hurt and fear in Ralph's gaze. As always, that was his mistake. He could hear the familiar shifting, the cold laughter, and the snapping of bones and gnashing of teeth from all around him. In the back of his head, he could hear a familiar, cold voice that had plagued him for so long... 'Kill them.' it whispered, grinning wickedly. 'They all think you're just a silly little boy anyway.' it continued. Roger shook his head violently, scowling at the voice. "Leave me alone..." he muttered, not daring to look up. He knew what he would find, what would happen... 'Kill him.' the voice laughed cruelly. 'He doesn't love you... He never did.' it said slyly, hissing. 'After all, why would anyone love you?' the voice laughed. Roger winced, biting his lip. It wasn't true... Ralph did love him, he knew he did! ...Didn't he? 'Your parents don't love you.' the voice continued. 'Your siblings don't love you.' it trailed off, coming closer. 'Why in the hell should I love you?' the voice said maliciously, and Roger flinched painfully. He knew he would look up, and the voice from hell seemed to know that too, for there was a lovely image awaiting him. Dead, overcast grey eyes stared at him listlessly, and pale blue-blonde hair hung messily in his face. All across the once golden skin were ragged, raw, angry scars that mirrored the ones that he had inflicted upon Jack with the rock. Bloodless lips moved slowly, widening as a scream of agony rang through his head...
To say that Ralph was surprised would have been an understatement. He was sort of used to the occasional nightmare that Roger would have, but he was entirely unprepared for him to wake up screaming. Ralph was awake in seconds, trying to figure out just what the hell had happened, and where Roger had gone. Half of the bedding was jerked violently over the side of the bed, and with it, there was a considerable effort to try and escape said bedding. Ralph leaned over the edge of the bed where Roger was supposed to be, and narrowly missed getting whapped with a pillow that was flung away furiously. "Roger?" he called, watching as Roger freed himself from the linens. It did not stop there, however, as he scuttled as far away from the bed as he possibly could, as quickly as he could. Ralph took in the ruffled, terrified sight of his lover and frowned deeply, watching as Roger tried desperately to force his breathing back to a normal pace.
Ralph could tell that there was another scream trying desperately to work its way out of his throat, but it seemed that Roger was determined to suffer in silence. For a long time, Ralph held very, very still and said nothing. This had happened only once before, and he very distinctly remembered that it was best to give him some time first. It was only when Roger moved again, pulling his knees to his chest and curling around them, that Ralph moved. He slipped off of the bed and ran to him, kneeling down next to him as he gently wound his arms around him. "Roger..." he murmured, gently lacing his fingers through Roger's dark, wavy locks. Roger shook in his arms, and dug his nails into his palms, the voice still bounding around in his head. 'Why in the hell should I love you?' Ralph loved him... He did... At least, he said he did.
Ralph's heart ached as a shaky, frightened,strangled sob tore its way from Roger's throat. "Roger," he murmured gently, placing one of his hands of Roger's and grasping it. An attempt at reassurance. "What happened, love?" Ralph could feel Roger flinch in his arms, and he gingerly placed a kiss on the back of his neck. "Please?" he asked, biting his lip. "What is frightening you?" he asked in a whisper, smiling a little as Roger let his hand relax enough to entwine his fingers with Ralph's. It was a long time before Roger said anything, and Ralph's heart gave a painful throb each time a sob shook Roger's frame, making him long to chase all the monsters away. Alas, Roger managed to look up a little, and instantly his gaze filled with hurt and sorrow. "Oh, honey... What happened?" Ralph pleaded, bringing his other hand up to brush away the frightened tears gently.
Instead of an answer, he got a question. "Do you love me?" Roger croaked, choosing to look at his knee caps instead of Ralph. "Do you really love me?" he asked quietly. Ralph looked a bit taken aback. He wanted to roll his eyes, say 'Of course I do!' or demand to know just exactly what he was getting at, but something about the way he was asked made him pause. The blonde looked at Roger carefully for a moment, and smiled adoringly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Yes, Roger, I do. I love you very, very much." he said gently. Roger shuddered in response and Ralph frowned.
"Why?" Roger questioned, shaking his head. "I've done so many horrible things... Hurt so many people... I've hurt you most of all." he lamented, looking back at Ralph. The regret and many, many apologies became palpable as Ralph looked deep into Roger's eyes, and the blonde's heart melted easily. "Because you aren't that person anymore, Roger." he murmured, smiling gently. "I don't have to be afraid anymore... You've already proven the extent to which you will go to keep me safe, love," he continued, gingerly threading his fingers through his hair once more. "You hadn't meant to hurt me, Roger, and we both know that... You were just trying to keep me safe. You couldn't help the fact that I got hurt in the end anyway," he smiled sadly. Roger had returned to gazing at his knee caps. "I don't blame you for that, Roger. You just wanted to prove how much you loved me, and I made it a nearly impossible task..." he said gently, looking down for a moment as well. "And for that I am sorry." he finished, looking back at Roger.
Roger smiled miserably and uncurled a bit, wrapping his arms around Ralph tightly. Ralph returned the gesture, more than happy to hold his shaken lover in his arms. Roger had buried his face in the crook of Ralph's neck, a particular favorite hiding spot of his when he hd nightmares... Or any time, really. Ralph smiled sadly and rubbed his back gently, whispering sweet nothings to him as he shuddered in Ralph's arms. For a long time Roger was silent, listening to the sound of Ralph's voice. Very different from how it had once been, but no less consoling and comforting than it had been. It was about four in the morning before Roger began to tell Ralph what had happened, but when he did, Ralph looked more concerned than he had perviously, which was quite an accomplishment, considering. "I was dead? And the voice?" Ralph questioned. Roger nodded mutely, unable to help the look of guilt that crossed his face.
Ralph would have none of that. Gingerly, he placed his hands on either side of Roger's face and tilted his head up to look at him. "Roger..." he murmured, shaking his head. "Sweetheart, it was just a nasty dream, I promise," he said softly. "I'm alright, just the same as I was before you went to sleep." he promised, leaning his forehead against Roger's. "And I do love you, with everything that I am." he said, smiling gently. This calmed and reassured Roger enough that, by about five thirty, Ralph managed to coax him back to bed. Roger made no promises about sleeping, but it was enough to have him somewhat back to normal.
"Ralph?" Roger murmured, watching quietly as the sleepy blonde shut his eyes.
"Yes, Roger?" he smiled, cracking one eye open. He looked exhausted, and if it wasn't Roger, he would probably be ready to kill something.
"Thank you..." he said, pressing a kiss to his lips gingerly. Ralph smiled and returned the affection easily, snuggling closer to him. "I love you." Ralph said easily, smiling as he began to drift off once more. "And I love you, Ralph." Roger smiled, affectionately brushing the backs of his fingers against Ralph's cheek. Roger closed his eyes, though somewhat warily, and eventually drifted off as well, despite the nagging feeling in the back of his head. Unbeknownst to him, a little mewl came from the other side of the door, followed by a scratching. It seemed that Roger had woken, and simultaneously worried the cat.
A/N: that's all for now! I hope you enjoyed it~ please leave reviews and let me know what you thought!