Disclaimer: I don't own Lost or any of its characters. Although owning shirtless Sawyer would be nice. Or Ben. I love Ben. Anyway.

AN: Okay, this story is definitely AU, because how else could I off El Jacko and bring back a whole bunch of Lost's dead? Enjoy!

Who Killed Jack? A Lost Murder Mystery

Chapter One

Kate

Walking contentedly along the beach, basking in the glow of the midday sun, Kate looked over at the camp with its tarpaulin homes and fairly cheerful inhabitants. It was a beautiful day, a far cry from the life to which she'd become accustomed since crashing on this island. Most of her was thoroughly enjoying herself, but there was still a small part of Kate that was watching cautiously, just waiting for something to go wrong.

She could see Sawyer, sitting outside his tent, reading a book with the aid of those ridiculous glasses he always wore. He'd taken off his shirt, undoubtedly to sun himself. And Kate was the last person you'd catch complaining. Staring at him for several seconds, unable to stop herself smiling, she chanced a small wave in his direction, which he noticed and returned, accompanied by a wide grin. Then she turned to search the throng of people for the familiar face of Jack, wanting to extend to him the same courtesy, but... she couldn't find him.

Slightly disappointed, Kate decided to go over and talk to Sawyer for something to do.

"Hey James," she greeted when she was nearly upon him, adopting the usual friendly, flirty tone she reserved especially for him. "Whatcha readin'?"

He smiled up at her, his eyes full of deep affection. "Just a little Stephen King," he replied, flashing her the cover of the book; it was Carrie. "Kinda dark, but not bad. So, what brings you my way on this fine island semi-afternoon?"

Kate opened her mouth to answer, but before she could there was a high, piercing scream. Both she and Sawyer whipped their heads round toward the source of the disturbance, and Kate felt a feeling of enormous dread as she saw a very distraught-looking Claire backing out of Jack's tent, clutching Aaron to her.

"He's dead!" she heard the blonde girl exclaim hysterically. "He's...Jack's dead! Someone killed him!"

Feeling tears well up in her eyes as she joined the hoard of people flocking to the scene, Kate peeked inside the tent's entryway. She couldn't just take Claire's word for it; she had to see it for herself. And she did. The tears overflowed and rolled down her cheeks as she took in the tableau, whilst several other castaways craned their necks to see over her shoulders. There were gasps and yells and sobs behind her, but she ignored them all, focusing on the limp and bloody form of Jack Shephard which lay on the ground before her. He was face-down, and his shirt was torn where it appeared he'd been stabbed.

Kate let out a soft, despairing moan and turned away, squeezing back out through the press of bodies to where Sawyer stood, a short distance away. He gave her a questioning look, which her expression answered immediately. It was true; Jack was dead.

Charlie

As soon as he'd heard Claire's scream, he'd sprang from his seat on the sand in front of her tent and gone running. Now he stared in disbelief through the crowd at the lifeless form of their doctor and leader, holding Claire closely, protectively, and cooing absently to a wailing Aaron.

"So it's really true," he said distantly, the words sounding strange as they floated out of him and into the air. "Jack's really...gone?"

Charlie felt the girl nod into his chest, and heard her sniffle. He instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around her, eyes still glued on Jack's tent. He'd heard Claire's exclamation, and now the hushed talk circulating around their little community - Jack had been murdered, it seemed. But who would do something like that? His thoughts turned briefly to the smoke monster, but by the look of things the killer's preferred method was stabbing, and the monster tended to be more inclined toward stripping the flesh off its victims and leaving their remains suspended in tree branches.

As he leaned his head on the top of Claire's, staring into the distance in equal parts shock and puzzlement, he couldn't help but wonder whether one of their own had done this.

Hurley

When the discovery of their deceased leader had been made, Hurley was standing at the communal kitchen with Libby, preparing a platter of fruit for them both and joking casually with her. Now he was frozen in place, listening intently to the rumours that were flying around. Jack was dead. Jack was dead. How could that possibly be true? Jack, the person who'd kept them all safe since day one! Jack, their fearless, infallible leader! He couldn't believe it. It was completely absurd. It had to be a mistake.

But... Why else would everyone be saying it? He looked uncertainly at Libby, who was standing beside him, wearing an expression of utter dumbfounded shock. She slowly turned her head, meeting his eyes, and he could see in those beautiful green pools that he'd come to trust completely that it wasn't a lie. He was really gone, just like that, with no warning at all. Hurley felt cold, deep down inside himself; it was fear, he knew it, fear and uncertainty. Jack had always been there to guide them all, and now... What were they supposed to do without him? How were they supposed to survive without Jack?

Reaching out with his left hand, not quite realising that he was doing so, he grasped Libby's right hand tightly, and she squeezed his back. That, at least, felt real. Reassuring. They both stood there like that for some time, in silence, watching and listening to the commotion going on all around them... Holding tight to one another to avoid being swept up into chaos.

Shannon

"What are they saying, Sayid? Something about Jack..."

She looked around, puzzled, having just returned from a walk down the beach with Sayid to discover utter pandemonium back at their camp. People were alternatively rushing about, screaming, crying, or simply standing there looking shellshocked. There were snatches of urgent conversation fluttering about the place, but she couldn't properly make out what all the fuss and panic was about.

A woman ran past her, weeping slightly, and Shannon caught her roughly by the arm. "Hey," she shouted, because the woman didn't seem very inclined toward paying attention. "Hey, what's going on? What the hell happened?"

"Jack's dead," the woman answered, staring into Shannon's face, her eyes wet. "Murdered."

The tall blonde relinquished her grip and the other survivor scurried away. Of course... There was a huge crowd around Jack's tent, and people crying all over the place... She should've known, should've put two and two together...

She still had hold of Sayid's hand, and was glad of it at that moment, because she felt oddly faint. This was surprising, as she hadn't really been particularly close to Jack, not like Kate or whoever else, but still; she felt hollow, cold and numb, as though someone had dumped a load of ice down her back. How the hell could this have happened?

"Who..." she began, stunned, but her voice broke on the first word. She tried again: "Who would want to kill Jack?"

"I don't know," was Sayid's quiet reply. He let go of her hand to wrap his arms securely around her waist, gazing out toward what appeared to be their leader's final resting place. "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

To be continued...