Disclaimer: I did not write the characters of Ralph and Jack, only Roger. If the writing seems like it varies, it has! It's just the other author's writing. Thank you and enjoy!

Across the water and passed the reef, Ralph could see his rescue. For the time spent imagining it, he suddenly felt that it just wasn't enough. It wasn't enough just to be rescued and brought back home to England so that everyone just moved on and told him he was safe now. The only people in the world who could possibly feel the same were on this island with him, and Ralph didn't want to talk about it with them.

Wishing he had a clean shirt to wipe his tears off on, Ralph stood up and brushed the sand off of his frayed shorts and turned to the naval officer. "I-I think we're ready to go," he tried to say with at least a shred of dignity.

Some of the littluns were chattering softly together and scooping handfuls of sand together in poorly built sandcastles. Jack sat on a log with his cap in hand staring down at the sand forlornly.

The officer took a step closer and appeared to have shaken himself out of a daze. "Is everyone here?"

Jack sprung off the log and quickly seemed embarrassed at his sudden movement. "Er, maybe not everyone. I'll, uh, I'll be right back."

With that, Ralph watched him scamper off along the beach towards a twisting figure, stark against the rest of the scorched ground. Castle rock stood lonely and foreboding, like a relic from a lost time. The sailor stared after Jack amusedly before asking, "Do you suppose I must've gone with him?"

Ralph and the other boys shrugged their shoulders without giving the man so much as a glance.

"You're a quiet lot," he said to himself. "I can't imagine any of you acting as you were when we found you."

Ralph shook his head and muttered, "No, sir."

The sailor glared slightly at Ralph, as though expecting a hint of sarcasm, found none, and sighed, turning to stare back at the ship rocking gently with the waves. Directly in front of the group was the small rowboat in which the man had come ashore. Ralph gestured at it, clearing his throat.

"You think we should start to bring you boys back?"

"I suppose so," Ralph said, trying to find the authority he had once spoken with. "I'll stay back with the rest if you take the first group."

The officer nodded approvingly, already starting to pick out boys to go back with him on the boat. "Once there," he said, "we can bring more boats ashore and this will go faster."

Ralph felt more fatigued right now than in any other point in his life. He felt like laying down on the sand and listening to the water lapping at the shore for the rest of eternity. The fire had long since died down, ending when there was nothing left to burn, and the boys seemed to match its energy, sitting around lethargically and aptly ignoring each other.

Ralph noticed Roger sitting a little distance away from the rest, fidgeting nervously with a leaf, tearing it into pieces and then tearing those pieces into smaller pieces, until it was nearly indistinguishable against the pale sand. He had become the quiet choir boy from so long ago once again, though Ralph got the impression that this was not permanent.

Before long, the boat returned and more boys climbed in, Ralph making sure the smallest ones didn't fall before resuming his blank stare at the ocean.