I just finished the ending of Lost, and I wanted to know what happened next so badly— I think they left the fate of our favorite castaways a secret on purpose, so we could imagine what happened next, but so far I haven't seen any stories post epilogue. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this— especially if you felt unsatisfied with the end. I'm writing this for my own entertainment, so I won't abandon the story if it's not popular, but if you like it, please follow/favorite, or share your ideas in the comments section! :-)

Chapter One: Another Jack Down

Miles heaved a sigh of relief as he glanced out the airplane window at the clouds they were now soaring past. It had worked. The plane had taken off. It was a miracle really. For the first time in a few days he felt himself smile. They were actually alive. They were going home!

He eagerly looked around at his fellow passengers, hoping to see some form of excitement in their eyes, some happiness, or whoop of jubilation. After all, they had been trying to get off the island for. . . well, Kate for probably about a week. The rest of them three years.

He looked at Sawyer, who was leaned back in his seat with his eyes shut. His mouth was pulled into what had lately been a natural frown, and he looked miserably indifferent to life. Richard, on the other hand, was barely concealing a grin.

Claire and Kate were holding hands, happy to the point of tears. However, after about five minutes, Kate's tears turned into flat out sobbing.

Sawyer opened his eyes and glanced in her direction, but did not move. Claire looked alarmed, and shifted uncomfortably as Kate cried harder.

Her eyes had turned red, her face had turned red, and her nose was running. She sounded like she was dying or something.

Miles shot a look at Sawyer, mentally begging him to say something.

But Sawyer had shut his eyes once again, deciding, evidently, that Kate could cry her heart out for all he cared.

Aggravated, Miles reached across the aisle, and tapped his friend's shoulder.

Sawyer shot him an annoyed look, and Miles shot one right back, tilting his head toward the back of the plane.

Sawyer rolled his eyes, unbuckled his seat-belt, and stomped after him.

"What do you want, Miles?" He growled, folding his arms and leaning up against the bathroom door.

"Could you talk to Kate?" Miles asked. "She looks really upset."

"Then why don't you talk to her?" Sawyer spat.

"Cause I don't know her." Miles replied. "You'd probably be better."

"Oh yeah." Sawyer said mockingly. "I'll go give her a little pep-talk, cheer her up because Jack's dead."

"Jack's dead?" Miles asked confusedly. "What happened?"

"Looked like he got stabbed by crazy Locke." Sawyer said, carefully looking toward the bridge of the plane for eavesdroppers. "But he played it cool when we left, said it was nothing."

"How do you know that—"

Sawyer snorted derisively. "Jack's an easy read."

"Did Kate know?"

"Course not." Sawyer scoffed bitterly.

"Are you going to tell her?" Miles asked.

"He didn't want her to know."

"I think she's got a right to know, boss." Miles sighed.

"Well, it ain't my right to tell. Jack's secrets die with Jack, got it?"

"But you said you were gonna kill Jack, you know, after what happened with—"

"What, do you think I meant it?" Sawyer asked furiously, looking pained at the mere allusion to Juliet's death.

"Sorry." Miles apologized dully.

"It's fine." Sawyer mumbled grouchily.

"So why's Kate crying then?" Miles asked. "If she doesn't know—"

"Well, it don't make much difference to her now does it? She ain't never gonna see him again anyway." Sawyer said sarcastically.

The first thing Desmond realized was that his head was throbbing. Every inch of him ached, and gravity seemed to be pulling on him especially hard. What had happened? Why was he here? He vaguely remembered descending into a pool of light, and. . . removing a stone from the center. Jack had been there. He knew that Jack had been there.

"Dude, he's moving!" A familiar voice exclaimed, and a hand grabbed his shoulder.

Desmond opened his eyes with difficulty, and was nearly blinded by light.

"Where am I?" He groaned.

"Hey, Desmond." Hurley replied kindly. "We just rescued you from the weird light tunnel thing."

"Where's Jack?" Desmond mumbled.

"He's over there." A calm voice said. Desmond wearily sat up, and found the source of the other voice. Benjamin Linus was standing a few feet away, looking serious.

A troubled look passed over Hurley's face.

"What'd you mean, dude?"

"While you were tending to Desmond, Vincent came up to me, and I followed him." Ben explained. "And I found. . ."

He didn't have to finish his sentence. Hurley had run toward the direction Ben had come from, and Desmond stumbled after them after slowly getting to his feet.

The walked a few feet through the forest of bamboo, leaves crunching under their feet. They passed an old tennis-shoe that was stuck in on a bamboo branch, and entered into a tiny clearing.

"He must have crawled over here when we were trying to get Desmond out of the rain." Ben said placidly, glancing at Hurley, who had tears streaming down his face. "I don't know how we didn't see him."

Desmond barely heard as he walked toward the body on the floor of the clearing. He felt it couldn't be true.

But it was, there was no mistaking it. He was pale, and his side was covered in blood. His mouth was gaping slightly open. His eyes were shut as though he was asleep, but sleep was not that still.

He watched in a strange stupor as Hurley, trembling, knelt beside the corpse that had once been Jack Shephard.

"I'm sorry you died alone, dude." He choked.