Disclaimer: Jack and the boys don't belong to me. However, I have put in a bid for the island. So it might belong to me, you know, if they accept bits of string as payment. Wish me luck!

Author's Note: Ah! Thank you to everyone who bothers to read and review! I've been a horrible writer, haven't I? I think it's been a little short of forever since I last updated. To anyone who's been waiting, I apologize and hope that you like this next bit.

As usual, please let me know if you find any typos.

Warnings: A bit of violence, some discussion of non-con, and religious references.

Sing the Little Children

Eleven

Light trickled into the clearing, colouring dark shapes in shades of grey. Lumps unrecognizable in the night became bushes, ferns, bodies. Lines became more definite. Shadows grew where the light could not touch.

Colour existed.

And, as the sun broke over the horizon to dispel the enchantment of the dreaming night, Roger opened his eyes and beheld an angel.

A figure stood over him, shining with its own white light and haloed with gold. Roger gasped and tried to scramble to his feet, only to fall back. The angel moved toward him.

"Roger," it said in an ageless voice, "you have sinned."

Then the sun continued to rise and Ralph, white-skinned and yellow-haired, stared down at him.

There were startled cries and awed whispers all around the clearing as the other boys woke and saw their first Chief.

"It's him," one said particularly loudly, "Ralph."

Roger felt the situation slipping from his control. He lunged to his feet and was satisfied to see that Ralph was shorter than himself. "Where've you been, Ralph?" he drawled. His palms itched to hold a spear.

A little'un replied for the pale boy. "We thought you was dead, Ralph," the small boy said. It was one of the diggers. Roger scowled at it.

"I may well've been," Ralph spoke, turning his head slightly. "But I've come back." His dark blue-grey eyes bored into Roger. "I've come for Jack."

"Jack?" Roger repeated. He laughed. "Jack is dead. Jack is shit and he's dead."

"Then I've come for his body." Then, as though he knew Roger's camp, as though he'd walked through it many times, Ralph strode, unhurried, unerringly toward the hollow where Maurice had dumped Jack and the twin that cried a lot. And Roger, surprised by Ralph's easy confidence, accepted Ralph's dominance and fell back to let the pale boy pass.

Two heartbeats later, Roger realized what he had done. He reached out and grabbed Ralph's upper arm, tightly enough to bruise. "You're not Chief," he growled.

Ralph nodded, unfazed, and stared coolly at Roger's hand. "You're right," he agreed. "I'm not Chief. Jack is."

Another explosion of excited murmuring erupted around them. Roger snarled wordlessly and threw Ralph away from him. The slighter boy stumbled back, but didn't fall, irritatingly enough. "I am Chief!" Roger roared. Little'uns scrambled around the clearing, some disappearing into the jungle and others lingering at the edges where they could watch the coming exchange. Behind him, Roger heard Maurice's familiar heavy step and the lighter rustling of his other hunters.

"I am Chief," he said again, loudly. By his own strength and cunning, he had gained this position of ultimate power.

"What Chief rapes his people?" Ralph demanded coldly. He stood alone, his pale flanks vulnerable under the island's cruel sun, but carried himself as though he had an army beyond him. He was too confident.

Roger looked around the clearing, warily but not nervously. He knew very well that Jack's four last hunters were out in the jungle; Luke had returned and told Roger about the fight on the beach, and the other twin was still missing. However, he still had 7 hunters to back him, and the little'uns were his to command. He had nothing to fear from Ralph or anyone else.

Yet, why was Ralph staring with that disdainful, confident expression? Why wasn't he hiding, or cowering, or begging for mercy? It touched Roger with uncertainty, for a moment, but then he frowned and forced a hard laugh.

"I do!" he shouted. "It's my right as Chief! I do what I want, when I want, and no one can stop me!"

This declaration did not garner the reaction that he was expecting.

Ralph burst into a shrill peal of laughter. Roger started back in surprise. There was something wrong with the boy before him, some unbalance. Roger could see it in the way Ralph shook as he laughed and how he swayed. His grey-blue eyes were mere slits in his thin face.

As suddenly as it had begun, Ralph stopped laughing. He stilled and tilted his head. A smile curved his pale pink lips. "After all you've done, you believe this?" he asked softly. "YOU BELIEVE THIS?" he shrieked and slashed a long arm out. And he started to laugh again.

He's insane, Roger realized. Completely barmy. He shook his head and scowled. Ralph might be crazy, but he wasn't dangerous. Not even when his eyes glittered and his fingers curved into claws. Yet, Roger backed up a pace and glanced about for a spear.

"What do you want?" Ralph suddenly asked, once more appearing normal. "Why are you hurting everyone?"

Here was familiar territory. Ralph smirked and recalled the glowing feeling of easy domination. "I like it," he said. "It feels good."

"You'll kill us all," Ralph replied calmly. "Irresponsible hunting. Injuring little'uns enough to put their lives in danger." Ralph gestured back toward the hiding boys. "What will you do when there are no more people to hurt?"

Roger felt momentary discomfort, quickly replaced by anger. "I decide what happens to this island and to us!" he roared. "And shut up before I kill you!"

Ralph's face became brilliantly hopeful. "Would you!" he exclaimed. He strode forward quickly to peer into Roger's face, making Roger flinch back. "Kill me," he breathed.

Roger felt heat rise in his face, a mixture of anger, embarrassment at his own discomfiture, and the stirrings of desire. Ralph was like no other boy on the island; he appeared weak, but was strong. His present appearance was overlaid by his former tanned, gregarious self. And there was that dangerous glitter of his eyes that prickled the hairs on Roger's neck.

Not knowing what else to do, he punched Ralph in the jaw.

Ralph fell back with a startled cry and landed on his rear, holding his cheek. When he looked up he was grinning.

"Disgusting, Roger. Brutal, barbaric, beastly," he sang, high-pitched and eerie. Roger swallowed, shook his hand out. Ralph climbed to his feet, removed his hand grom the red welt that marred his face. "You have no power over me, Roger, disgusting Roger." He laughed and swayed and placed a hand over his belly. "But that's what you want, isn't it Roger?" He stepped forward again, but not close enough to touch. "Power and more power." He continued in a whisper, "Let Jack go, and I will give myself over to you. Isn't that what you want?"

"I could just take you," Roger growled.

"You could," Ralph agreed. "But I would not be under your power." His smile widened and he looked about conspiratorially before leaning yet closer. "I can kill myself at any moment, you know, just by wanting to die. If you try to hold me by force, I'll do it. But, if you accept my deal, then I will stay under your control." His stormy eyes floated in Roger's vision. "Wouldn't you be that much greater?"

Roger grunted. He didn't want to believe that Ralph would kill himself – he remembered something from before the island, about God and sins and suicide. But Ralph was insane. Roger believed. And he wanted. He imagined white skin and gasps and tears streaming from blue-grey eyes. Jack was one thing – all fight and fire and ragged screams. But Ralph, Roger thought, would be still and defiant until nearly the end, when Roger would force him to cry.

Slowly, Roger's lips peeled back into a grin. "Done," he said. He jerked his head toward Luke. "Take Jack-shit out into the jungle and leave him."

"Yes, Chief," Luke said stonily, and he and two others disappeared.

"He might survive," Roger grinned. Then he reached out and grabbed Ralph's arm. The pale boy did not resist. "I'm hungry," he remarked, and pulled his newest possession toward the more secluded part of the clearing.

Bastion didn't know what to expect. Ralph had left them before morning, telling them only to wait close to Roger's clearing. It seemed stupid, though, to wait here. What were they waiting for? Roger wouldn't just let Jack go. And Ralph certainly couldn't fight off seven hunters by himself.

"This is so stupid," he muttered down to Dru. He'd found her on the way here, hiding under a fallen log. The spider, a beautiful creature with brown markings and delicate legs, waved up at him from his cupped hands. His spear lay on the ground before him as he crouched behind a voluptuous fern.

Robert, Bill, and Eric were hiding at other places around the clearing, likely having similar conversations with themselves. What were they waiting for?

A noisy crashing to Bastion's right made him jerk his head up and peer around the fern. There was more crashing, and laughter, and a deep, pain-filled moan.

Jack! Bastion grabbed up his spear and stood, after carefully setting Dru down under the fern. Then, quickly and quietly, he slid through the foliage to where the crashing continued.

He saw the back of one of Roger's hunters first. The boy was looking down at something, and jumping a bit, as though kicking something. And there were two other red-masked hunters, one of them Luke, also bouncing and kicking…

Bastion wasn't the first to approach Roger's hunters. Before he could do anything, Robert jumped out from the hunters' other side, brandishing his spear at the three larger boys.

"Get away from him!" he shouted.

Luke and the others laughed. They stopped kicking and formed up together to face Robert. "You gonna stop us?" Luke drawled. None of them had spears, but all three were much larger than Robert.

"We're gonna stop you," a much deeper voice replied, and Bill emerged from the bushes at their side, his spear held ready.

One of the hunters flinched and stepped away, but Luke stood strong. "Two against three ain't gonna win," he said.

My turn, Bastion thought. He drew himself up, took a deep breath, and said, loudly, "That's three against three," and marched forward. Unfortunately, he didn't watch where he was walking and his foot caught on a thick creeper. He waved his arms, dropped his spear, and tumbled to the loamy ground.

Roger's hunters laughed. Bastion went hot, then cold with embarrassment. Then fear paralysed him as he came face to face with Jack's slack, blood-smeared, and swollen face. He didn't even notice as one of the hunters ran at him and raised his leg to kick him.

KER-ACK!

The hunter stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose. Eric stood, panting, holding the end of his broken spear like a cricket bat. The pointed end of his spear lay several feet away. Bastion stared up at the formerly meek boy with something like awe.

"I'll get you—" the other unnamed hunter began, but Luke held him back.

"We're done our job," he growled. "No need to play with these stupid pigs." He reached down to pull up the hunter that Eric had hit. "Let's get back to Roger." Then he smirked, red paint twisting. "I wanna watch what he does to Ralph."

Then they were gone.

"We gotta save Ralph!" Eric shouted.

"No, we gotta look after Jack," Robert said more quietly. He moved forward and knelt beside their old Chief.

Jack looked like he had been painted with red and purple. Blood streaked his back, and it looked like he'd been beaten with a stick. What skin that wasn't covered with blood was blue or black or green. His face was nearly unrecognizable. And his thighs… Bastion quickly averted his eyes from the mess of blood and crusted white.

"Let's carry him back to the cave," Eric said.

"The grotto," Robert argued. "We need lots of water. And we can start a fire on the sand."

Bill readily agreed, and Bastion slowly nodded.

"We need cloth," Eric said. "Ralph… Ralph cleaned Petey with warm water and cloth."

"Go and get some," Robert told the twin. Eric nodded and took off.

Then, without speaking, the three remaining hunters gingerly picked up their fallen Chief and carried him through the jungle.