A/n: Okay, so this is my new story, and my first time writing in LOTF, so please be nice. Before we start I have some VERY important notes you need to read. First, this prologue is set in the future, years after they had been rescued, and no, not all of it will be in the future, the next... Oh lets say ten chapters will be back on the island. Second, don't flame me because of the appearences, because their looks are going to be based off of the 1990''s film, so don't complain about it, if you don't like it, just pretend they look how you want. Next, so everyones not confused I'm just going to come right out and say that Katy Cornel was on the island with the boys. Also, so things aren't to weird I'm going to be bumping up the ages so it won't seem that their feelings are too weird; I'll let you know in the next chapter what the general ages are. Finally, I hope everyone enjoys the start of this fic, and please don't ask a question or flame anything that I addressed in this authors note, it really bugs me, but other than that feel free to ask anything else. And don't forget to review! And yes, I made all the town and county's names up.
The sleepy village of Yorkshire lay nestled deep in the hills of Victoria county. It wasn't a very large town, but it got along fair enough. Enough as to where the streets were bustling with merchants and vendors from far away places, and most who lived there were more or less prosperous in their business ventures.
The sun was just peeking out over the rolling hills, slowing waking the village's occupants. Soon merchants scattered the street, bumbling around in a mid-morning haze as they waited to open their shops, but all to soon they stopped and stared.
A young man, no older than 25, sauntered down the cobblestone street, acting very much as if he owned the whole place. But it wasn't the man himself that made them stare, it was his uniform; he was a soldier, and a powerful ranking one at that.
The last time a soldier had walked their little village, it had been a time of horrors, and the nightmare of war that ripped through their homeland. War was not something they wanted to see again.
The young man carried an air of pure confidence about him, as well as the arrogance that seemed to emit from his very pores. He had his sandy blond hair swept back and under his standard military cap, and his very uniform fresh and clean, down to the boots that shimmered like a gleaming pile of coal.
Everything about this man just screamed unapproachable, from the smirk dusting his lips to the glint in his steely blue eyes. But the little boy, positioned tactfully at one of the street corners, had no qualms as he scurried up to him; a ratty box of supplied clanking in his arms as he went.
The fair-haired man stopped, eyeing the boy in distaste as he watched the tiny bare feet skid along the cobblestones towards him. He knew the boy could be no older than eight, and was so obviously a street urchin.
His once white button shirt was stained with various blotches ranging from yellow to black, his gray shorts were tattered and ripped, and his bare feet caked with dirt and grime. Under the layers of dust, his hair appeared to be the same fair shade as his own, but the eyes that sparkled from underneath his mask of mud were a deep green, not blue.
He raised his eyebrows in silent question, staring down at the young urchin menacingly, "Well, go on, what do you want?"
The child held out his grungy box, "Spare change, Sir?"
The man sneered down at him, bending until they were at eye level, "Tell me one good reason I should give it to you."
Instead of being intimidated, the child smiled to himself and stepped back to watch him, "Well, Sir, my momma's sick. And mean old man Thompson won't let her go to work, and he says to her that if she don't get better soon then he'll never let her come back to work again! So, I'm saving up all the money I can get to go but some medicine from Doctor Larson."
He studied the boy closely, and after concluding that this story was not a lie, he let a secret smile spread over his lips, "I would just love to help your 'Momma' but I'm afraid I just can't give you the money unless I get something in return."
The boy only smiled and began to rummage in his box, "That's okay then. I can shine your shoes and then you can give me the money for Momma."
He scoffed, looking down at his impeccably shined shoes, "Does it look like my shoes need shining? You'll just get them dirty with your grimy rags."
In a sudden fit of rage, the boy leapt at him. Kicking up a large cloud of dust, and soon the boy had coated the young mans boots in a thick layer of dirt and dust, "Your boots aren't so shiny now, are they?" He asked, smirking meanly up at him.
The man threw his head back, bursting out in a sudden fit of laughter, "You remind me of myself when I was a child. Come on, lets sit on the curb while you fix my shoes."
He sat on the curb and looked down at the child thoughtfully as the boy began to work, "What did you say your name was again?"
The boy looked up at him, meeting the mans blue eyes with his own green ones, "I didn't. Momma said not to tell strangers that."
The man laughed again, here this boy was almost picking a fight with a man twice his age and worrying about telling a stranger his name, "Well, you can call me Commander Merridew." Jack said, puffing his chest out proudly.
The boy began to laugh, quietly at first, and then increasing in volume as time passed, until fat tears rolled down his cheeks, "M-Merridew! What a silly name!"
Jack bristled at the insult, he's cheeks quickly filling red with blood, "Well, go on! I've yet to hear your name!"
The boy settled down, staring up at Jack with wide, imploring eyes, "My names Simon."
Simon
The name still sent shivers down his spine, and sent memories blasting in front of his eyes like a movie screen. He remembered it all oh so clearly, the screams, the blood, the murder.
"Sir? Mister Merridew? Are you alright?" Simon's voice quickly whisked the demons away and Jack returned to his senses. Looking down, he noted that his boots were already finished, a little duller than he would usually have them but acceptable nonetheless.
"Yes…Er…Simon, I'm fine." He continued to stare into those wide green eyes and knew that something had changed. A growing thought was flickering in the back of his mind: something wasn't right about Simon.
"Who-Who is your mother again?" He choked, dreading the answer that he knew was about to come.
"Momma's name is Katy, Katy Cornel." And just like that, the flood gate was opened, and all Jack could see was The Island.
A/n: To those of you that are confused and did not read my authors note at the top: read it. For those of you who read the note and are still confused: feel free to ask away, I know the prologues kind of confusing, it will all get cleared up next chapter. Now, review please! I should be updating sometime in the next one or two weeks.