Disclaimer: All characters from Lord of the Flies do not belong to Sakai Michiba. They are the property of William Golding and whatever publishers own it...or whatever. When does this copyright expire? Sometime soon. It possibly has already. The literary copyright, anyway...

Dedication: To Ethan, who hates this book but loves the boysex (and the mesex)!

Summary: Ten years after being rescued from the island in the Pacific, Jack finds himself being plagued with terrible nightmares of Simon’s and Piggy’s death. He desperately seeks retribution in Ralph. Oh, there’s slash. Yummy slash.

Warnings: Gayness, mentions of death, graphic nightmares, British men.

And now, Sakai Michiba presents,

Healing

A Lord of the Flies Fanfiction

Chapter One

Even after its occupant had gone to sleep each night, the little flat in London was never quiet.

Jack Merridew gasped and writhed in his bed, clutching the sheets with both hands as he moaned softly, kicking at the mattress and tangling the bedclothes about himself. A cold sweat broke out over his flesh in beads, and he opened his mouth to scream as he woke up, sitting upright suddenly and throwing his head back. “R-ROGER, DON’T!” His voice echoed and silenced in the flat in London, and he brought his hands up to his mouth, his body heaving as his stomach regurgitated what he had eaten for dinner. He cared not that he was in bed–he let it happen. Pained tears rolled down his cheeks as he emptied his stomach onto the formerly white sheets, trembling as though he was in an earthquake.

When he could control himself again, he looked miserably down to his hands, which dripped with stomach acid and partially-digested fish and chips. Clenching his fist, he pounded it against the dirty sheets and got up, pulling the sheets for the thousandth time since he had lived there from the bed and taking them to the washing machine. He was naked and, now, filthy. A glance was given to the clock on the wall–it was four in the morning.

Grumbling, he started the washing machine and went to the bathroom, brushing his teeth and starting a shower, a long, soft sigh escaping him as he felt the hot water soak his red hair. He shuddered, looking down at the porcelain as he relived the nightmare.

The nightmare had been mainly of Roger, the loner boy who was always second-in-command to Jack on the island. He had seen so much of Roger then, had seen what he could do. Then, of course, it had not frightened him, for the great chief could not be frightened, but ten years later, the older, more sensible and learned Jack knew what they had done. He knew that they had murdered Simon, murdered Piggy, and it sickened him. When he was interviewed, he always had to leave out the killings–it was an agreement between the survivors.

It was killing Jack Merridew.

The nightmare he had experienced had been so incredibly real, as though it had actually happened. Roger had killed Simon all by himself, placed him on a spit over the fire and was roasting him. Blood and fat dripped from the body, sizzling in the coals as they fell, and Simon’s eyes had been wide and staring, begging. He had been watching Roger as the boy reached in, sticking Simon with a poker and grinning. “He’s done.”

Roger had then taken the boy off of the spit, taking a crudely-made knife of flint and cutting the ties that held him up. Simon’s body dropped to the ground and Roger straddled it, taking the knife and cutting out Simon’s thighs, taking a chunk and shoving it into his mouth. “Come on, Jack...he’s so good. He tastes just like a crazy boy should.”

Jack had protested, moving backward, but Roger had backed him into a rock, holding up that knife and grinning at him, Simon’s bloody veins hanging from his teeth. “Perhaps if you don’t want any of his...” Roger had whispered, and he suddenly had Jack pinned to the rock face, the flint knife at his thighs. Jack had been blinded with pain as he felt that knife running deep into his thigh, blood pouring from a cut artery, and as Roger cut out a large chunk of flesh, Jack had screamed. Roger, seizing this opportunity, had shoved the piece of raw, bloody flesh into Jack’s mouth, forcing his jaws up and down and cutting off his air until he swallowed.

This was the point when Jack always woke up. Even then in the shower, his hands moved to his thighs, over the place where Roger had cut in his dreams, and he made sure he was whole before he whimpered like the littluns had so long ago and hugged his naked chest.

Ralph was in his dreams a lot, too. He saw Ralph blowing the conch, tall and proud and lean, saw the desperation in Ralph’s eyes as they threatened him, saw the frantic movement of his feet as he ran from their hunting party, saw Ralph smiling at him as they climbed the mountain for the first time. He saw Ralph staring in horror as Piggy’s brains fell from his head in gooey masses, and he saw Ralph getting excited about having poked a pig with a spear.

Jack owed everything to Ralph, and he knew it. They had not spoken since the press conference–Jack could not bring himself to look into Ralph’s eyes, much less speak to him. Climbing out of the shower, he wrapped himself in a towel and moved to the sitting room in the apartment, sitting on the couch and picking up the directory. Fingers thumbed through names until he came to the one he was looking for, and he picked up the phone, looking down at it for a few moments before he hung it up sharpish. It was too late...or was it? Perhaps...Perhaps Ralph was awake, too.

It took fourteen tries before Jack actually let the phone ring enough times for it to be picked up at such a late hour. He was startled when someone did, in fact, pick up. He recognized the voice, though deepened by puberty, and he bit his lower lip. “Hello?” inquired the sleepy voice on the other end, and Jack opened his mouth, breathing shakily as he tried to speak, but nothing came. “Hello!” the voice demanded, more awake now, and Jack knew that if he did not say something then, he might never.

“R-Ralph?”

There was a long silence on both ends before the voice broke the silence. “Jack...it’s four in the morning...I...was sleeping...” The more Ralph talked, the more Jack felt like crying. He was shocked when he felt hot tears hitting his bare thighs, and he could hear himself audibly crying. “Oh, Jack...Jack, bloody hell, what’s happened? Are you hurt?” Ralph sounded worried now–very worried. Jack shook his head as though it were audible, and Ralph, clearly very awake now, began talking louder. “Jack, talk to me...”

Jack choked and clutched the phone as though it were all he had. “R-Ralph, I...I’m so...so...” He cut himself off and slammed the phone down, his whole body aching. He thought for a moment that he was going to throw up, but he managed to hold himself back. The phone rang, but he didn’t answer, too scared, and he pulled a blanket over him from the top of the couch, curling up under it and crying into the towel.

Ralph listened on the other end as Jack Merridew flung the phone down, and he got out of bed quickly. London was huge, he knew, but it was nothing he could not navigate around. Picking up the directory, he found Jack’s address–Jack had sounded hurt or sick, and he had to go check on him.

As he quickly got dressed, he wondered why Jack had called him instead of the police or an ambulance. He had not heard from Jack in years, and they had been very bitter to one another then. Now, Ralph was twenty-two, fair hair and tanned skin making him popular with the ladies in clubs...But they never meant anything to him. Ever since he was rescued, he could not think properly...They thought he was sick with something, but he did not think so. The island...had broken him.

He grabbed his keys and ran out of the door. He didn’t know why he even cared–he hated Jack Merridew. He had killed his dearest friends, and that was unforgivable. Therefore, he could not figure out why on earth he was running to his aid, unable to think of anything else. The curtain that flickered in his mind on the island blocked everything but the need to get to Jack, to see Jack. He was afraid–more afraid than he had been in years–and when he jumped in the car, he forgot his seatbelt as he sped down the streets towards Jack’s apartment. He squealed into a parking spot and left his headlights on as he got out of the car, locking it and ignoring the sirens in the distance as he ran through the pouring rain into the apartment building.

Reaching the apartment that had been listed as Jack’s, Ralph pounded on the door, calling for him. “Jack, open the door! Now!” he demanded, and he heard feet moving quickly inside. When the door swung open, he was looking down at Jack, naked save for a towel around his waist, who looked to be a mixture of shocked and horrified. There were tears streaming down Jack’s cheeks, and Ralph moved inside, closing the door and taking Jack by the hand. Without a question, he took him to the couch, where it was evident he had been, and he sat him down.

Jack was in shock–such shock that he could not even think to stop crying. He just felt Ralph’s arms slip around him, and he melted, head tucking in against Ralph’s neck and sobs bursting forth from his lips, an unstoppable force that seemed to fill the entire room. It was ten years of grief, ten years of regret that was finally making itself known. His hand wound into Ralph’s shirt, clutching it as he relived the moments on the island that he hated the most.

Ralph relaxed into the couch–he knew what this was. Jack was curled up against him, more pathetic than he ever had been, and Ralph did not know what else to do but hold him. He was suddenly very aware that the other was naked and clearly very, very tired, and he stood up, pulling Jack to his feet and holding him against his chest as they walked to the hallway, where Jack opened the bedroom door. The bed was stripped to nothing but a mattress which was torn in several places, and Ralph looked down to his old rival a moment, wondering why he lived somewhere like this until he saw that the rips were in the fashion of fingers shredding the cloth, and he saw Jack’s sharp nails.

“Come on,” he whispered, and he took the other over to the mattress. “Lie down, Jack...I’ll find something to cover you with.” It was at that moment that Ralph decided that there had never been anything so awkward. His hands were buried in the closet, trying to find an appropriate blanket, and when he found one which was thick and woolly, he brought it to the bed and tucked it in around Jack. “There...”

Jack had managed to gather himself enough to look up at the other with bloodshot eyes, unable to smile or say anything. He had so much he needed to say to Ralph, things that had never been settled, and when Ralph rose again as though to leave, Jack grabbed his wrist. “R-Ralph...Don’t...”

Ralph sighed and sat down on the bedside, his hand letting itself be led as Jack pulled it up to his hair. Ralph’s blue eyes narrowed a little as he sifted his fingers through locks that had once been matted, tangled, and disgusting, finding it shocking for some ineffable reason that it was now straight and perfect. Jack looked soothed by the stroking, and Ralph moved down closer to him, kneeling on the floor beside the bed so they were face to face. “Don’t what?” he asked, jumping slightly as Jack caught his hand and held it to his cheek.

“Go home...” It was whispered so softly that Ralph had to strain to hear it. He heard a washing machine cut off somewhere in the flat, and he smiled, though the smile was a confused one. What was he supposed to do now? Well, he knew that he could not go home, that was for sure. MakingJack comfortable, he carefully adjusted him in the blankets then stood.

“I’m going to sleep on the couch...When you wake up...we can talk.” He smiled asJack nodded and closed his eyes, and he went to the living room. The whole place smelled like Jack, and as he got comfortable on the couch, he could hear Jack’s breath even out.

The point when the flat became the island was lost to Ralph, and he found himself looking on as the boys danced and chanted, “Kill the beast! Slit his throat! Spill his blood!” over and over again as they beat their spears against Simon. He heard him screaming, and he looked for Jack, not seeing the boy anywhere. He realized with a jolt that he had to save Simon, had to get him out of there, and he shoved the boys aside, throwing himself into the circle and encircling his arms around the screaming boy. Simon tucked his head against Ralph’s neck and screamed piercingly as Ralph was being beaten to a pulp by the spears.

When Ralph looked up, every boy had Jack’s face–they were sneering, beating the hell out of him, and no one was DOING anything. He could hear Piggy in the background, saying he couldn’t help on account of his ass-mar...Samneric saying the beast kept them back...Simon screaming and screaming...Ralph had to scream, too. He threw his head back and screeched for his life.

Jack was startled out of his sleep by a screaming in the apartment, and he shot out of bed, running for the living room. He saw Ralph there, tearing at the cover, and he took it from him, grabbing his shoulder and shaking it. He was shocked as those eyes flew open, took him in, and Ralph suddenly attacked him, screaming and punching.

“Ralph! STOP!” he yelled, panicking, and it was as though everything in the world suddenly ceased to move. The two men stared at each other, Ralph in an attacking stance and Jack in a defensive one, and Jack watched as the other boy slowly melted into a sitting position on the floor. Jack relaxed and moved over to Ralph touching his shoulder. “...You okay?” he asked, feeling the muscles beneath his hands tensing and relaxing.

Ralph looked up at Jack, staring at him. He had never forgiven him for killing Simon. Of all the people for Jack to kill, he killed one of his choir members. Did Jack want to kill him, too? Right then? Could he trust him? He felt himself being pulled to his feet, and he looked at the other skittishly. “I...Yes, I’m all right,” he whispered, and he waved Jack away. “Go back to bed...I interrupted your sleep. I’m...sorry.”

Ralph watched the other disappear again and slumped back into the couch, finding it difficult to breathe. “Damn it, Simon...” he whispered, and he touched his arm where Simon had once touched it long ago. Over the ten years of separation from the boy, he found that he had grown to love him, to love the very idea of him, and he missed him in his happiest and in his darkest hours. Lying back down again, he closed his eyes and curled up with the blanket, watching short films of Simon on the backs of his eyelids.

Jack gathered his pillow and blanket and went back to the living room, putting them in the floor and watching Ralph on the couch. He could only watch him toss and turn so much, and he rose onto his knees by the couch. “Wake up, Ralph,” he said quietly, and when Ralph’s eyes opened, he realized he hadn’t been sleeping anyway. “...Are you okay? Did you have nightmares?”

Ralph opened his eyes and stared up at Jack, eyes heavily lidded. “I...uh...No. They weren’t nightmares,” he whispered, and he looked away. “Why aren’t you in bed? Goddamn it, Jack...It’s bleeding early. Climb onto the couch with me, ‘kay?” He had no idea why he asked that, and the moment it was out of his mouth, he regretted it. He kept forgetting how afraid he was of Jack.

Jack crawled onto the couch as well, lying with his head against the unoccupied arm of the couch. There were a few seconds of thick silence, then the redhead cleared his throat. “Ralph, I have something I want to say to you...it’s why I called you...” He touched the bottoms of their feet together, glancing back at him. “I never told you...I should have. I’m so sorry...for everything. For challenging you, for killing...them.”

Ralph’s eyes shot open at that, and he sat up then, blinking in the darkness to find himself very close to Jack. “You...You’re sorry?” He sounded outraged, and he pulled back from him, not wanting to be that close. “Do you think that sorry is good enough!” He was not exactly sure why he was yelling–he had thought that he had been over this for a long time now. No, he knew he wasn’t over it, but surely he could not hold Jack in contempt.

Jack froze when the other started to yell, and he suddenly got up, rushing to the bathroom and falling in front of the toilet. There was nothing left in his stomach to throw up, so he had dry heaves for perhaps three minutes before he felt Ralph behind him. He froze then, not even opening his mouth to speak, when he felt Ralph’s hand on his shoulder. “Jack, I didn’t mean to yell. I mean...I still have nightmares, you know? I still have nightmares that make me wake up screaming and soaked in a cold sweat. It’s not your fault, Jack. It’s not.”

As Ralph spoke, Jack felt tears rush to his eyes, but he didn’t want Ralph to detect them. He hung his head and focused on the tile floor, listening to every word spoken to him, and when the other had quieted, he shook his head and lifted his hands to his face. “I liked you best, Ralph,” he whispered, feeling sick again but knowing that he could not possibly throw up. “You were great...A great chief. What was I? A murderer!” He reeled and reached out for the toilet, trying to force anything up through his mouth, but nothing came.

Ralph was quiet for a few moments before he reached up to seize Jack around the hips. Drawing him back, he pulled him away from the toilet and, without regard for what exactly he was doing, he pulled the other man into an embrace from behind. “You aren’t a murderer, Jack...I wanted to kill, too. The heat, the fruit...We were sick. We were desperate...The situation was desperate...” He felt Jack turn around in his arms, and he closed his eyes as the other man rested his head around Ralph’s shoulder. “It’s not your fault anymore than it is mine...”

Jack found himself clinging to Ralph, fingers digging into his shirt while he listened to the reassurance that no one else had given him. The world called him a murderer, called him a terrible man, but not Ralph. Ralph, who had been there, who had been affected more by the deaths of Piggy and Simon, who had almost been killed himself, had forgiven him. He looked up at Ralph and, in a moment of decision, leaned into kiss him, to try to make him understand what this meant.

Ralph was shocked when Jack leaned in for the kiss, which was short-lived because he pushed the other man back. “Whoa, whoa...Jack, come on...You need to go to bed, okay? You’re exhausted...”

“N-no, I’m not, Ralph...I’m not tired...I’m not...” Jack sounded like the little boy he had been many years before, and he tried to kiss Ralph again, but Ralph blocked it with his palm and sighed before he embraced Jack tightly against him. Without a word, he picked him up and took him back to the bed, lying him down and covering him with the blanket. “Ralph, no...Don’t...DON’T LEAVE ME!” he screeched as he was covered up.

As the neighbor below them smacked something against the ceiling, Ralph sighed and, against his will, he sat down on the bedside and refused to look down to the man who was clinging in desperation to his arm. He focused instead on the traffic outside, to the beeping car horns and the shouts from the city-people who had gotten up early that morning. He could hear Jack crying above it all, and he closed his eyes and sighed deeply before he looked down to him. “Jack, I’m not going anywhere. Just...shhh...” He detached the other from his arm and forced him to lie on his back on the mattress.

He figured that he might be able to distract the other, to make him happier again. “Jack, let’s talk, okay? Not about...what happened. Other stuff...Um...Can you still hit a C sharp?” He was trying very hard, really he was.

Jack’s eyes widened at that, and he sniffled before shaking his head. “I don’t have anything to sing about anymore,” he whispered, not seeing Ralph roll his eyes. “I haven’t even tried...I haven’t tried a note since we got rescued...since before that.” He looked up to see Ralph staring at him, and he felt a blush roam over his cheeks before he looked away. “Why are you still here?”

Ralph was startled at the last question, and he furrowed his eyebrows, the light from the morning sunrise flickering through his hair as he leaned down a little so he might better see Jack in the dim, dark apartment. “Because you asked me to stay, didn’t you?” he asked, and he felt Jack’s arms slip up around his neck. “Don’t try to kiss me again,” he whispered, even as Jack was tugging him down and connecting their lips in a kiss that broke Ralph’s heart. “Jack...st-stop!” he yelped, struggling to get back up, but Jack would not allow it.

“Why?” Jack asked quietly, and when he let one arm come from around that neck to touch the other’s face, he was surprised to find that Ralph was not truly struggling, for he could have easily broken out of the hold. “I always envied you, Ralph...Envied your tribe, envied your everything...” He brought his other arm up again and jerked the other down, smiling in satisfaction as Ralph was suddenly sprawling over him, hands on either side of his head. “I wanted to BE you...”

Ralph yelped as he was pulled down on top of Jack, and he stared at the other as he leaned up to kiss him again, their lips meeting in the gentlest kiss he had ever received. When Ralph tried to turn his head, Jack followed, and before he knew what was happening, he was pressing closer to Jack, their lips parted but their bodies pressed flush against one another, the blanket pulled over them while Jack fluttered kisses against his neck. His hands were buried in Jack’s hair, tugging him closer, and he breathed near his ear, shuddering when he felt Jack’s tongue tracing the tendons of his neck.

“Wait,” he whispered, and he moved upward, the absence of the other’s tongue quite known as cool air danced over the wet spots. Jack watched him with half-lidded eyes, spread-eagled on the bed beneath him, and he whimpered as Ralph suddenly slid out of the bed.

“Where are you going?” Jack inquired softly, reaching out to Ralph, who took his hands and pulled him out of the bed as well. “Wh-what are we doing?”

“Go brush your teeth. You threw up everywhere, remember?” Ralph asked quietly, and he smiled as Jack’s eyes widened before he rushed off to the bathroom. Ralph sat there quietly, confused as he mulled over what he was supposed to do now. When Jack came bounding back into the room, looking boyish as he had in the days on the island, Ralph opened his arms to him.

“Hi,” Jack whispered, a child again as he crawled onto the bed where Ralph had sat down in his absence. Ralph accepted Jack into his embrace and stroked his head a little, making the redhead relax, though another kiss was attempted, Ralph shook his head and pushed the other away.

“Jack, listen...We can’t do this. We can’t kiss, or anything like that. I mean...I like girls...”

These words were crushing to the redhead, and as though the world had come crashing down around him, he withdrew quickly, jumping to his feet. “Fine...Fine! Get out then! I...I can’t look at you without wanting to KILL you again!” He did not know what he was saying, of course, and before he knew what he had done, he had thrown Ralph out of the door, ignoring his knocking and grumbling. “JUST GO AWAY!”

He could not possibly explain to anyone how badly this hurt. He was not even sure why it hurt so much–what had he expected, Ralph to come in and take him in his arms, becoming a lover he had never had? It was ridiculous, even to his childish mind. When the pounding on the door faded, he sighed and heaved himself to the bedroom, lying down and curling up on the bed, touching the place where the other had been sitting just moments before. “I’m sorry,” he whimpered softly, fingers crumpling the blanket. “So...sorry...”

Ralph stood outside the door for a long time after he stopped knocking, his ear pressed to the panel of wood, and he listened to Jack inside. It fell silent very quickly and he sighed heavily, trying the doorknob one last time, shocked to find that Jack had not bothered to lock the door. “Idiot,” Ralph murmured, and he walked right back in, closing the door silently and creeping to the bedroom.

By the time he had come back in, Jack had fallen asleep there, cheeks red and puffy. Ralph sighed and walked over, pulling the mussed comforter over the other’s body and tucking him in. Blue eyes fluttered, but Jack did not wake, instead catching Ralph’s hand and nuzzling it to his cheek. ‘How very cliche,’ Ralph thought bitterly, knowing that if he moved, the other would wake and all would go up in smoke. Sitting on the floor, he rested his head on the mattress and laced his fingers with Jack’s, closing his eyes and letting sleep come over him.

When Jack woke later that afternoon, he realized that he was holding onto something before his eyes even opened. Terror took him, and he remained utterly still for a few moments, knowing that it was a hand he was holding onto and that he had definitely locked the door before going to bed. Daring to open his eyes, he found that it was Ralph he held onto, the older boy sleeping against the bed with his head very near. Jack’s stomach flopped, and he forced his lips into a scowl. “Ralph!”

The blonde woke up with a start, his eyes widening when he saw that Jack looked furious. The fact that they were holding hands eluded them for a moment as they stared at one another, one angry and one confused. Finally, Ralph untangled their fingers and stood up. “I was concerned. You didn’t lock your door, and you didn’t tuck yourself in. I guess I’ll leave, then...” He blushed and started out the door faster than he had ever run from a house before, but Jack’s hand caught him before he made it, and he turned around to look at him. “Wh-what?”

Jack sighed and leaned up to kiss Ralph’s surprised lips. “Think about me,” he said quietly before he let Ralph go, not pushing him out the door and finding himself disappointed as Ralph left, shutting the door quite loudly on his way.

It was another week before Jack could summon the courage to go find Ralph again. Picking up the Information Directory, he thumbed through the pages, finding Ralph’s phone number and the address written beside it. Taking a long, deep breath, he set out of his house, the address written down on a sheet of paper. The day was typical of London–cold and rainy, merciless weather that would convince anyone to leave. Jack did not even bother with an umbrella–he could not have cared less if he got wet or not. When he climbed on the tube, he was shivering and wet, and by the time it was his station and he had re-emerged into the London, he felt a tad feverish.

Ralph’s flat was easy enough to find, but the courage needed to knock on the door eluded Jack. He supposed it was lucky, then, that Ralph was headed out of the flat after about five minutes of Jack loitering nervously, and the flabbergasted look on Ralph’s face ensured Jack that his visit was going to have the effect he wanted. “Er...Hi,” Jack eloquently spoke, a hopeful smile on his lips. He had forgotten that it was bloody cold out, that he was shivering, but Ralph took notice immediately and looked around the street before pulling Jack inside.

“You idiot!” Ralph snapped at him as he shut the door, steering him into the bathroom. He started a hot bath for the other and looked at him much like a strict teacher looks at a student who has done something wrong. “Get undressed and take a bath! Do you want to get sick? That’s the last thing I need to worry about right now!” He looked genuinely concerned, and so Jack stripped quickly, climbing into the bath and sulking.

“I just–”

“I don’t care,” Ralph interrupted, looking hard at him. “I’m worried enough about things without you getting sick, okay? Sam got a hold of me today. Eric’s been in an accident. I need to go to the emergency room to make sure he’s all right. If you’ll warm up quicker, you can come, too. Maybe it’ll do you some good.” He knelt beside the tub, careful not to look over Jack’s body as he touched his shoulder, looking concerned. “Maybe it’ll do Sam some good, too.”

Jack stared at Ralph for a long time. Ralph was still in contact with everyone? It made him realize how very cut off from everything he was, how very much he was missing. Slowly, he drew his knees to his chest and shrugged. “I don’t know why Sam would want me there, anyway. I was his dictator, making him do things he didn’t want to...I’m the bully everyone hates at a high school reunion.”

Ralph sighed, listening to him, and he broke him out of his protective ball, lifting his arms and pulling him up out of the tub. “Are you warm?” he asked quietly. When Jack gave him the smallest of nods, he dried him off with a towel roughly, warming his skin more by rubbing it with the towel, and he smiled a little at him. “I’m sure Sam will be thrilled to have you there, Jack.”

“Liar,” Jack whispered, and Ralph gave him an endearing look before taking him to the bedroom and digging through the closet, finding something that might fit his guest. Jack sat on the bed, watching Ralph’s quiet determination with admiration, and when Ralph came over to him with the clothes intended for him, Jack reached up and caught his arms. For the longest time, they were motionless, staring at one another and unable to stop. Jack broke the silence after what seemed to be a thousand years, sliding his hand up Ralph’s arm to his shoulder. “You’re worried about me. Really worried...”

Ralph gave him a nasty look and shook his head. “Am not,” he claimed childishly, but even as he said it, he knew it sounded false and stupid. Jack’s other hand moved to the remaining shoulder, and Ralph let himself be drawn in, expecting a kiss and expecting to be able to yell at Jack for it, but Jack merely hugged him, arms sliding around his neck in a tight embrace that seemed to rid them both of insecurity. “Look at you,” Ralph finally sighed, pressing his forehead to the redhead’s bare shoulder. “You’re lucky you aren’t dying in this weather, all wet and naked like this. I can’t leave you by yourself for even a minute, can I?”

Jack laughed very softly, relief flooding through him as though he had never been relieved over anything before. “Guess not,” Jack claimed quietly, enjoying the closeness of his ex-rival and burying his face against him. They were quiet again, an unmoving statue depicting comfort as Jack embraced Ralph for being worried about Eric and Ralph embraced Jack for being concerned over what was happening between them. Neither wanted to move, and so they did not, just hugging one another, neither one strong enough to let go.

When the phone rang, they started and jerked apart as though they had been caught by someone. Ralph snatched the phone immediately and cleared his throat before asking, “Hello?” There was a long pause as the voice on the other end spoke, and when Jack caught Ralph’s gaze, he saw that the other was genuinely worried. Finally, Ralph spoke back, “Okay, okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes. I have company...Yes, they are coming, too. I think it will be a welcome surprise. Yes, goodbye, Sam.”

Jack did not even ask. Standing up, he got dressed in the clothes that had been placed beside him and ran fingers through his hair, no longer cold or sticky, and he stuck close to Ralph as they silently hurried from the house. Ralph’s car was close, thank goodness, and they were hardly wet at all by the time they made it to the vehicle. Ralph looked so concerned as he drove, his eyebrows knitted together, and Jack reached over to slide a hand into one of the other’s.

Ralph was startled by this motion, and he glanced down at their interlaced fingers before looking over at Jack. “I...uh...” He shook his head and relaxed against the back of his seat. He did not release the hand holding his, instead giving Jack’s a bit of a squeeze as he navigated through traffic. When they pulled into the hospital parking lot, Ralph glanced over and gave the hand another squeeze before whispering, “Eric is in critical condition, and it’s getting worse. Sam needs us to just be here for him...and if worse comes to worse, I’ll be taking both of you home tonight.”

These words made Jack nod, though he could not help smiling a little. So Ralph intended on keeping him over, did he? The thought was heartening, and when they parked and got out of the car, Jack was not so self-conscious that he restrained from leaning against Ralph a little when they walked in. Ralph did not even seem to mind sliding his arm around Jack’s waist, feeling strangely content as though this were the perfectly natural thing to do. The moment they stepped into the ER, however, they were broken apart by a hysterical Sam, who threw himself at Ralph in a moment of desperate worry for his twin.

“He’s so stupid! Stupid-stupid-stupid!” Sam sobbed against Ralph’s shoulder. The blonde man held the twin quietly, patting his back and leading him over to the waiting area, holding him against his side. Jack felt very awkward all of a sudden, seeing Sam–an adult man–acting like this, and he wondered if he had looked like this whenever he had cried on Ralph’s shoulder. He sat down at Ralph’s other side, not daring to sit beside Sam for fear that Sam might not recognize him and would overreact. He watched Ralph, understanding why he had been elected chief so many years ago, and he leaned against him a little as well, feeling small and insecure all of a sudden. To his surprise, Ralph looked at him and smiled, his hand moving from Sam’s back to touch Jack’s knee.

The three were still and silent for two hours, never speaking another word. Sam never moved from Ralph’s shoulder, never noticing that there was a third person there, and Jack never stopped basking in the warmth that was the blonde. He was sure they looked like the most homosexual pile of human flesh there had ever been, but it was an emergency room, so no one cared. At the end of the two hours, a doctor came out to speak with Sam, drawing him away from the other two and disappearing with him.

Jack sighed and looked over to Ralph, who looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. “...This has happened before, hasn’t it?” Jack asked quietly. “With one of the other boys, or something...” He could tell by how comfortable Ralph seemed there in the emergency room, and when the other nodded, Jack decided not to press the matter. Feeling nervous, he popped his knuckles, jumping a little as Ralph reached over to stop the habit, lying his hand on top of Jack’s and giving him a look. “Sorry...” the redhead whispered, unnerved by the smile Ralph gave him. “...What?”

“Nothing,” Ralph said quietly, and he released the hands, a smile touching his lips as Jack did not resume popping his fingers. They moved a little closer together, and while waiting for what seemed to be the longest time, Jack moved to lie on the couch, his head resting in Ralph’s lap as he napped. Ralph’s head tipped back, resting against the cushion, and he soon slept as well, comfortable and warm with Jack so close to him.

When Sam returned, the lonely twin realized for the first time that Ralph had someone with him. The face looked vaguely familiar, but it was perhaps the shockingly comfortable position he found them in that made him realize exactly whom he was looking at. “Jack Merridew,” he said in an awed voice, and as though it had been an alarm clock, both the boys on the couch started awake and stared at him. “Jack...it has been...a long time.”

Jack realized that he was being spoken to, and he lifted himself off of Ralph to stand and offer a firm handshake to Sam. Sam did not, however take it. Instead, he stepped forward and hugged Jack tightly, hands balling the redhead’s shirt in his fists as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Eric’s...real bad,” he claimed, muffled by Jack’s shoulder. Ralph sighed and stood up, nodding.

“Let’s go back to my flat, Sam. You can rest and give Eric a chance to rest, too. The hospital will call us if things get worse, okay?” Ralph smiled as Sam nodded, and he went to the receptionist, explaining the situation to her, and when she nodded, he gestured for Jack to bring Sam outside. The three piled into the car, Sam riding in the back seat and curling up in a ball, and spoke not a word on the way home. Jack did not dare take Ralph’s hand because he knew Sam was watching them, and he found the silence so oppressing that he could not breathe properly.

At the flat, Sam was escorted to the bathroom while Ralph decided to have a lie-down. Jack soon followed once he was sure that Sam was in the shower, lying down beside Ralph on the bed and quietly curling up to him. Instead of retaliating, Ralph turned into him, his hand sliding to Jack’s lower back. “I’m tired of watching my old friends get hurt. If Eric dies, he’ll be the second one to have died from an auto accident...Percival is gone, too, you know. He was one of the littluns. Ran onto the train tracks, and I just happened to be in the area when it happened. Bam, he was dead. Now Eric...” He sighed and looked into Jack’s eyes, looking very distant and, suddenly, very much older.

“You’re very troubled,” Jack observed, and he listened to make sure the shower was still running before he pressed closer to Ralph, bringing his hand up to touch his cheek. “Let me be here for you?” he requested quietly, and when Ralph nodded, he smiled a little and leaned in to press a kiss to Ralph’s lips. He felt the other’s arms wrap tightly about him, and he closed his eyes blissfully, letting the kisses claim him utterly as though they gave him life. “Can I stay?”

Ralph did not have to reply verbally–the kiss he gave in response was all the answer Jack needed. They might never have stopped this if a soft, embarrassed knocking had not come from the open doorway, and the pair looked up to see Sam looking very shocked indeed. “I’m sorry...” the twin whispered, biting his lower lip and blushing horribly. “I didn’t mean to interrupt anything, honestly.”

Ralph smiled and got up, walking over to Sam and leading him to the bed. Jack got up and nodded awkwardly to the boy, watching as Ralph tucked him in and smoothed back his hair. “Rest, Sam, and don’t worry about what you just saw. You have enough to be concerned over. Just sleep, and we will keep you informed if anything new happens with Eric, all right?” The boy nodded in response and, to Jack’s surprise, smiled at him, gesturing for him to come closer. Ralph seemed to understand that this was something the boys needed privacy for, because he left the room and went to the kitchen.

“Jack, it’s good to see you again,” the twin said sincerely. “I mean, none of us should hold grudges, not anymore. We were kids, and...well...you know. Thank you for being here for Ralph.”

These words baffled Jack, and he opened his mouth to ask what exactly he meant only to find that Sam was already asleep, his breath slow and even. Carefully, Jack left the room and closed the door behind him, going to the kitchen where he heard Ralph working on the stove. Sliding up behind him, he pressed his palms to the other’s hips and drew him back, hands stroking the other’s stomach carefully. “He wanted to thank me for being here for you,” he said quietly, forehead resting between Ralph’s shoulderblades. “But I don’t understand.”

Ralph chuckled quietly and shrugged. “Who knows?” he inquired, and he began to sway back and forth to the rhythm of his cutting on the cutting board. “He’s not in his right mind right now...It’s all he can do to speak, much less make sense.” He laughed and turned to kiss the other’s hair. “Why don’t you go have a nap while I finish this stew?”

Jack beamed at Ralph before shaking his head. “No...I’m not the one who’s exhausted. You go lie down and I’ll—” His eyes widened comically as Ralph silenced him with a determined kiss on his lips, though he slowly closed them as Ralph’s hands eased on his arms.

“Don’t argue with me once I’m starting to like you,” Ralph said quietly when he pulled away, pleased to see that the kiss had brought forth a bright blush on Jack’s cheeks. “Now, go lie down, Jack. Please.”

Jack hesitated for a few moments before he gave a sort of defeated nod. “Yeah, okay. But when you finish cooking will you…you know?” He sort of looked away as though it embarrassed him to ask this, but when Ralph nodded, he smiled a little. “Thank you.” He moved to kiss Ralph back, his arms slipping around his waist and holding him impossibly close. He expected Ralph to pull back to continue cooking the stew, but the blonde leaned into the kisses, his mouth opening over Jack’s and his tongue sliding into the other’s mouth.

Jack moaned very gently into the other’s mouth—he had never had this with someone. Sure, he had snogged plenty of people (those that thought he was sane), but he had never been open with someone like this. He had never leaned into someone’s embrace and felt their heartbeat against his own flesh and had never wanted anything like this because he had had no clue what it was like. His kisses became frantic, his hands quivering, but Ralph never pushed him away, instead giving him a gentle squeeze to calm him down. Jack was scared by this, scared of the fact that these kisses aroused him and made him feel helpless against the older man, and he was the one to stop the kisses and look up into Ralph’s eyes a moment before he hid his face in his shoulder. “Don’t make me go home,” he said into his ex-rival’s collarbone.

“You’re not allowed to,” Ralph stated matter-of-factly, and he patted Jack’s back a bit. “Go on and go lie on the couch. I’ll join you in a moment, okay?” But Jack shook his head and did not move, clinging to Ralph because he was afraid that if he let go, he would never be able to hold onto him again. “…All right, Jack. You can stay with me while I finish this…” He turned around to face the counter again, looking over Jack’s shoulder to finish cutting up the vegetables.