Title: Goodnight

Fandom: Lost

Summary: Jack is laid to rest by his friends on the island

They found him an hour after he'd gone down the cave, an hour after he'd managed to turn the light back on and save us all. The found him in a bamboo field, one that he had woken up in when they first crashed on the island three years ago. He was lying in a small clearing, the sun shining the gaps of the bamboo, glowing around him, a sort of halo, embracing him in a warmth as he lay there in absolute stillness. Vincent lay beside, his sad eyes drooping as he watches over the fallen hero. His shirt soaked with his own blood and his hands clutching the fatal wound. His beaten body lay gracefully on the grass, his eyes shut and his face was adorned with a calm smile, he was finally at peace.

Ben, Desmond and Hurley carried his body down to the beach to be laid to rest next to his fallen friends. Rose and Bernard met them there right before sunset, led there by Vincent.

The four men dug the grave, not a word spoken between them, while Rose tearfully cleaned Jack's wounds and face, dabbing a warm, wet cloth against his tired face.

On the clearest sunset the island had seen in weeks, the five friends and the faithful dog, stood on the beach, bidding a final farewell to the man who was a brother, a friend, an ally, an enemy, a doctor and a savior.

None of them could speak, as they stood there looking at Jack lying in the open grave, the shared grief crippling them from doing what they knew they had to.

Hurley shook his head in anger, his eyes shut tight, tears pouring down his face, "this shouldn't have happened, he shouldn't have died!", he choked on his sobs and Rose brought a comforting arm to his shoulder, "he's in a better place now, Hugo," she tried to comfort him.

"This is not right..." Bernard trailed, "this is Jack, it shouldn't be just us, he deserves..." Bernard continued but was cut off by Hurley, "it's not just us," Hurley said looking up at the tree line.

The others looked skeptically between him and the space that Hurley was staring at, with a faint sad smile on his face, "everyone's here," Hurley explained, as another sob wracked his body.

They all watched Vincent leap off in the same direction, as Hurley's smile grew watching the friends they'd lost to the island make their way over to join them by Jack's fresh grave.

Jin and Sun were the first to step out, hand in hand, taking their place by Desmond and giving Hurley a small nod. Sayid and Shannon walked out next, Shannon kneeling to greet Vincent and then both walking solemnly to join the others.

Ana Lucia and Michael came out one by one, Michael patting Vincent and the dog followed him to stand with the rest of their friends. Charlie walked out next coming over to Hurley and wrapping his friend in an embrace. Boone followed Charlie and stopped for a moment over Jack's body, whispering silently before finding his place next to Shannon and Sayid. Libby walked out next and was immediately by Hurley's side, wrapping her hand in his and resting her head against his shoulder.

Juliet was next, taking heavy steps to the grave of the man she once loved and finally standing by Sun and Jin.

John Locke was the last to walk out of the jungle, walking steadily over towards the beach and joining his friends; he shook hands with Boone and took his place with everyone else.

The hearts that gathered stood solemnly for what seemed like hours, each silently remembering the man they were saying their final farewells to. Each had their own story, their own memory, their own reasons to remember him, to honor remember him.

The group slowly dispersed, leaving the living few to finish the ceremony, somber and heartbroken.

The next morning, Ben woke up early to find some breakfast and was taken aback to see fresh cut flowers on Jack's grave, not sure where they'd come from, and all Hurley could do was smile and mumble, "I told you, we weren't alone."

Months passed, years passed, centuries, people came to the island from all over the world, and people left the island in search for the destinies, battles were fought, battles were avoided, friends made and love found, and everyday freshly cut flowers were found on this grave. A grave, every newcomer to the island knew they had to visit. Stories were told about the man whose name was not engraved in marble but was engraved in the hearts of all who knew him or knew of him.

Some would say it was a legend, a myth or a fairytale, told to little children or woven to encourage the lonely heart or push forward the frightened soldier.

But whatever they believed, everyone knew that there was something special about that man who lay in that grave, for the grass was always greener there, and the light was always brighter.