Title: Nightmares and a Choir Robe (I'm not creative, rite? *evil laugh*)
Author: Seer M. Anno
Fandom: Lord of the Flies
Pairing: Ralph/Jack Merridew, minor Roger/OC
Genre: AU, Slash, H/C, Fluff?
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this fandom except the story below. Please don't sue.
Rating: PG-15
Warnings: Child/Teenage abuse. Language. Probably a bit OOC. Underage slash. Some OCs, in case you don't like it.
Summary: Back in England, Ralph still feels he is a failure and he has Jack's choir robe. Meanwhile, Jack lives a better life and Roger's an asylum inmate. Join them in their journey of finding love of their family, of their friends, and the most important, towards each other.
A/N: Sequel/Aftermath of A Choir Robe and Nightmares, written in Jack's POV. Changed some details here and there, I hope it's okay. Ralph's last name was taken from someone who gave that name in AO3. Still based on the 63 film, with some aspects from the book.
This is actually an oneshot, but it's pretty long so I decide to make it a chaptered one. Unbeta'd, sorry!
Nightmares and a Choir Robe
Jack x Ralph, Lord of the Flies
Seer M. Anno
Chapter One: Shocking Morning
"Good morning, dear," a dark woman with black hair and brown eyes greeted.
"Good morning, Aunt Tanya," Jack Merridew smiled back at her. "What is it for breakfast?"
"I don't know," she shrugged, wiping her glasses. "Cereal?"
Jack still held his smile and nodded. "It's fine with me."
"Good!" she said. She disappeared into the kitchen for awhile, but when she came back she merely looked at him, her eyes darkening. "I'm going to visit Roger today, want to come?"
"No," Jack finally answered. A lie slid smoothly from his lips. "I need to see a friend."
She blinked and Jack felt a tinge of guilt for not accompanying her. Since her son was placed in an intense therapy (that was the... gentler way to say 'asylum'), Jack was the only one that reminded her that she had a son. She couldn't lose him the way she had lost Roger.
Jack knew what was in his foster mother's mind. He patted her hand and said, "Maybe I'll come later."
Aunt Tanya's smile was wide. "Promise?" she asked.
"Promise," Jack answered, giving her a mock salute. She gave him another one and left.
Jack was riding his bicycle down the street, humming softly. He only wanted time to be alone. It wasn't because he didn't like the times he had gone through with Aunt Tanya, Roger's mother. After all, she was the only one close to a mother figure, something Jack would never have for real.
She didn't know that Roger had been dumped in an orphanage. She and Roger's dad were married by accident, and with that Roger was born. 'A mistake', his father had called him. He didn't really like Roger and didn't want to be tied down in a very young age of nineteen. So he told a teenage Aunt Tanya his relatives would take care of Roger so she also could continue her schooling. Which was wrong.
Aunt Tanya remarried last year, when Jack and the others were fourteen, two years after The War. Knowing that she had been at least financially stable, she wanted to take Roger from 'his father's relatives' and it turned out her son was in an asylum and previously was abused in an orphanage. The orphanage's keepers told her about Jack and she grew fond of him instantly. She really tried to make up her lost time with her son, and knew that her son's 'therapy' was one of the ways she could manage that.
Jack didn't know why, but he was jealous at the dark boy. Well, maybe he knew why. At least he had found his mother and knew his childhood. Aunt Tanya and her businessman husband Uncle Gareth never neglected him but he really wanted to know what happened with his own parents as well.
He entered a small cafe and sat down. As usual he ordered a cup of tea and opened his backpack. He took out some music scores, which were the songs he had to practice in the choir. He spent his time in the cafe memorising the lyrics and tunes. He knocked his fingers against the wooden table to count the tempo. And then he started to hum.
"...Dad has told Julia."
Jack stopped humming as he lifted his head from the scores he had been reading. He didn't know why, but the voices which came from the table behind intrigued him. He looked back inwardly, pretending that he was looking for a clock.
He saw two young men, apparently soldiers, sitting behind him. They were blonds, and Jack assumed they were brothers or something. He leaned against his seat, trying to overhear more.
"What's about that scum?"
"Ralph?"
Jack winced at the mention of Ralph, and something fluttered in his inner core. Surely what they meant wasn't that Ralph, right? But Ralph was as blond as these men. And also as fair, despite of their days on the island. At least that was what Jack last remembered. He put his music scores into his bag and decided to hear more.
"I don't want to see his stupid face again."
"That makes the two of us."
"What should we do?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Not now, you twat. We'll see how much he'd changed."
"Yeah, Julia has written to Father about him in the therapy." The man let out a mocking laugh. "Therapy? Told you he's batty."
Jack clenched his eyes shut, leaning against his seat heavily. He didn't want to hear that word again, for it triggered his memories. He drank his tea, distracting himself.
The man continued. "Yeah, Julia told me he spoke things about islands or something. Told you he's batty."
Islands.
Jack almost choked on his drink. That must be his Ralph.
His Ralph.
Wait a sec.
Since when Ralph became mine?
Jack was busy with his thoughts he didn't realise the men were leaving. He swallowed his hatred and finally could compose himself, paid for his tea, and silently followed them down the street. They continued to chat, but Jack didn't care about their topics anymore. He merely hoped they would go home. Because with that he would know Ralph's house.
"We're here."
"Where's Father?"
"He's already inside." One of them knocked the door and not long afterwards an elderly woman's voice was heard, as cheerful as a summer holiday.
"You're here! Ralph, they're here!"
Jack didn't need to see Ralph today. So he ran back to the café, took his bicycle, and rode to the asylum. Aunt Tanya was waiting for him, after all.
Later that night, Jack couldn't sleep. His mind couldn't stop spinning. And Ralph was the one to blame.
What'll happen to him?
Who cares about that fire freak, the other side of his mind told him. Let him be.
But you kissed him. You must've at least cared for him.
That very thought stopped his mind from spinning. He jumped awake, touching his lips slightly. A certain image was displayed inside his head. He could hear Ralph muttering and squirming on the sand, stuck and suffering inside his own head, looking for help.
"Let me go... please. Please, it hurts."
And Jack had had his choir robe in hand. He blinked and there he was, standing near the trembling body on the sand. Jack had intended to sleep with his robe as a blanket but seeing Ralph having a nightmare... that had triggered his own memory too.
A little Roger was screaming, and I covered him and his screams stopped...
He didn't realise that he had jumped out his bed for a while. He banged his cupboard open and immediately saw the piece of garment he was looking for. He pulled it out, took a small box, folded and put it inside the box, and took a piece of paper.
His hand stopped right there. He didn't know what to write. What was he supposed to write to someone he had almost killed? He wasn't really good with words after all. But slowly words started to flow inside his mind and he quickly wrote it down. Maybe being a bit confident would help him. He was Jack Merridew, after all, he was famous for his (over) confidence.
So he wrote the last two sentences on the paper before putting it into an envelope. He didn't want to see the mirror, because he was sure he was blushing like a schoolgirl.
Maybe we can make more civil and talk. Or maybe kiss some more.
Afterwards, Jack sneaked out his house, took his bicycle, and rode down the dark street. He used to go out in the dark, since the hell of an orphanage he had lived in sometimes locked him outside if he had made the keepers angry. The redhead stopped for awhile and clenched his eyes shut at the memory. He took a deep breath and continued to ride his bicycle.
Finally he reached the house. He was going to leave the box on the doorstep when his mind scolded him.
What if those brothers of his found it? It won't be good! You're stupid, Jack.
He looked at the nearest window. It was large, and Jack could feel that it could be opened from the outside. Maybe the lock was broken. He pulled it open slightly and peeked in. He grinned when he realised that it was a bedroom, and he knew it was Ralph's. He pushed the box inside, closed the window, and rode his bicycle down the street and towards his own house.
A/N: So? What d'you think? Feel free to review! :)