Please be nice, this is my first Lord of the Flies piece! After we finished the book in English, I went back in read it again just to burn it into my brain. It truly is a great book, but anyways! I'm here to devalue it by writing awkward slash fan fiction. Hahaha! Again, be nice and enjoy.

It was all here. The warm seawater. He trees and the mountains and the rocks. Jungle had overgrown the scar their plane had left all those years ago. The quiet that used to hang over the beach at night when the littluns were asleep was here now, a thick blanket over the sand that smothered out Ralph's voice.

Why am I here?

He stood knee deep in the calm, pulling surf, worn out slacks rolled up above the water. A thin dress shirt hung loosely over his chest, hiding away the lithe figure Ralph had always possessed but never revealed. He was still that fair-haired child stranded all those years ago, but with a face shaped with age and eyes din and dulled by the world's wonders and horrors.

Why am I here?

Still Ralph could not speak. He took one step out of the surf, wet sand kicking up around beneath the water.

The forest was healing. No scar, no scorch marks, no wild children taking her fruit and killing her pigs. Somber eyes looked up at the mountain, and a familiar shape met his eyes at the peak.

You stayed. Of course you did. Where else could you have gone?

The silhouette of a pig's head on a stick, looking out over the sea, was so easily recognizable. Ralph thought he could see a swarm of flies buzzing around the rotting head, but figured it was just the heat.

He took another step, eyes still on the mountain. But slowly, they drifted away, and fell to the crystal water. Such a beautiful place. Such a gruesome place. His fair hair began to obscure his vision. He lifted his head up and brushed his hair away from his face, glancing to the side where the never ending ocean stretched out next to him.

And he saw something else, something in the water that made his heart stop. A voice and words barely his jumped into his throat, but he wouldn't let them go past his lips, no matter how badly he wanted out. Oh, how badly he now wanted to scream and yell.

Away an old enemy stood, knee deep in ocean, staring his bright blue eyes longingly into the forest. Wind tousled hair red hair surrounded his face like a raging sea of fire coming to calm near his cheekbones. His face, too, had been sharpened with age, but those eyes, even with their far off gaze, held all that savage fervor as before, and dripped with the blood of his youth. He leaned against a crude spear, sharpened at both ends and stuck into the ground.

"Jack," Ralph whispered, loud enough for the other to hear, but kept safe away from his own ears. Why? Jack turned, eyes burning as they always did. He didn't move or speak. Just stared until, finally, he moved his lips. 'Ralph'. He seemed to say, but Ralph heard no voice. Yet he knew what was being said.

"Why are you here?" Ralph asked, and Jack smiled. He moved away from his spear and removed it from the loose sand. Still smiling, jack jerked his head in a very "follow me" gesture, and splashed out of the water. Ralph unwittingly followed.

Traversing through the familiar forest at this taller age was not easy for Ralph, but Jack moved his small, muscular body with ease through the trees and foliage. He knew every rock and tree's location, while Ralph's feet kept getting caught in the creepers. The red hair was always within Ralph's eyesight, as Jack would always stay at least an arm's length away so Ralph wouldn't lose himself in the green.

"Jack, what are you-" Ralph was cut off after Jack came to a sudden stop, holding up a hand to signal the fair-haired boy to stop as well. He pressed a finger to his lips, wanting silence. Ralph couldn't hear what Jack was hearing, but the look in his eyes kept Ralph quiet. They gleamed a familiar gleam from near twenty years past; the gleam of his first kill of pig, the kill of a dear friend, and so many others after. It was a malicious gleaming that turned his icy blue eyes dark with lust.

He darted into the undergrowth, and Ralph followed him like they were connected by a chain. The next thing he saw after wrestling through the bushes was Jack, spear embedded in the neck of a large pig. No harsh squeal came beforehand, but Jack's triumphant, bloody smile said more than any word or noise could. He took the spear out of the carcass and sat down next to the kill, ripping the pig's flesh with his bare, calloused hands. Ralph sat down across from him, wide eyes trained on Jack and his hands quickly working the pig into bits.

And when Jack lifted a piece of the swine up to his mouth, Ralph felt a disgusting feeling sink into the pit of his stomach. Jack looked up, offering a chunk of raw flesh to him, which Ralph promptly refused. Jack just smiled, a grueling smile to match the gleam in his eyes. He dropped the meat and leaned toward the fair-haired man, eyes wide and smiling. 'Ralph'. He mouthed. Ralph could not hear him yet again. It had been so long since he had heard Jack's voice, there was just nothing for him to hear…It had been so long since he had heard the songs of the island. He could not remember any of it. He could not hear any of it.

Lost in his memories of forgetting, Ralph had hardly noticed Jack and his moving his hands. They moved across the pig's neck, fresh blood on his fingers. His eyes had that far off look again as he moved his hand up to Ralph's face, three fingers making a bloody mark on across his eyes. Ralph winced, but didn't move. Those fingers continued to work down his face, drawing intricate patterns in the pig's blood all over Ralph's face and his own.

'Ralph'. He mouthed again. Jack's blood-soaked lips pressed gently against Ralph's, the salty, metallic liquid staining his lips and dripping into his mouth. Still he could not hear, but he felt the vibration of Jack's quiet voice so close to him. 'Oh, you are so beautiful.' Were his words; words that confused Ralph. When he moved his face, he could feel the drying blood cracking against his skin. "No," He replied, and Jack pulled away, eyes blank. He shook his head, red hair rustling like a wildfire. It was beginning to match the color of the blood paint across his face.

Jumping up suddenly, Jack grabbed his spear and sped off into the forest, leaving Ralph confused next to the body of the kill. Looking down at the dead pig, he touched the still-fresh wound in its neck and shrunk back at the strong smell.

And then, the blood scent was gone, replaced by the smell of a burning fire. He was back at that moment, that horrid moment where he was the pig, and Jack was still Jack. Ralph was still eleven, he was still lost and alone and hopeless. He heard everything, smelled everything, felt everything- there was no escaping Jack and his hunters. But he could try, and he tried so hard to run through the forest until his heart was going to burst. Ralph ran and ran and ran until he reached that beach, until his lungs were finally clear of the smoke and replaced with their smokeless fire of fatigue.

His voice was there. So close to him, he could almost feel it running down his spine. "Ralph." There was no emotion in his voice. Ralph could feel his eyes on the back of his head, watching like a hawk even as he ran towards the shore. His knees hit the ground, and he just couldn't go on. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing. And then there was a weight on his back, and a blinding pain, and it was all peaceful and black and wonderfully comfortable.

Ralph shot out of bed, tears staining his cheeks and freezing cold sweat soaking his body and pillow. He was breathing hard, as if he had just been running for days.

"Honey. Did you have the dream?" A drowsy woman was sitting up next to him, rubbing his hot back to attempt to comfort him. "You were talking and screaming in your sleep again." Ralph nodded his head, trying to calm his breathing down. He brought his knees up to his bare chest, resting his head against them and taking a deep breath. Every night this ? I don't want to keep going back there. It was always a too real island, too real Jack…all too real. He hated it. He never wanted to sleep again.

"Ralph?" Ralph flinched at the name, but looked over at the woman. "Are you alright?" Moonlight filtered through the window above their bed, casting her face in a beautiful light and sending sparkles from the ring on her left hand. He saw nothing beautiful about her. Because her eyes were too kind, her face too pretty, her hair too dark. She always had a nice, polite smile, and it was not the one Ralph enjoyed and it sickened him that he was forced to spend the rest of his life with this woman he barely knew.

"Darling, please answer me. What happens during your dream?" Ralph could never tell her what happened during that time, and what happens during his dream. "Nothing. I'm fine…Let's go back to sleep." As much as he hated that island and those memories, on some small level he enjoyed them, because they were familiar and it was the only chance he had to see Jack anymore. Jack…Sometimes he wondered if the red-haired man went back to the island after they were finally rescued.

"Okay, dear…wake me up if it happens again."

"Okay." Ralph lied, lying back down and turning away from her, eyes closed.

"I love you."

"Mm."

Was it good? Should I continue? I think it would be fun to continue, maybe with Ralph and Jack meeting up. But I'd love some criticism, if you veterans or readers would be so kind. R&R, please! Cookies for all!

Thanks for reading. c: