Archive of Our Own ^beta

Piggy had been unlucky enough to move before the rock fell and after Ralph shouted, leaving the conch behind and shattered. Ralph watched the bone-white shards scatter and doubted from his spot down the beach that there could ever have been a time when the conch was saved. The hunters filed out and surrounded the fat boy, spears pointed at him. Ralph didn't stay to watch the rest and began to run, blindly and dangerously.

Creepers scratched at his face and arms, but Ralph paid them no mind. Scratches would be the least of his worries.

Ralph felt the surge of blood, the surge of fear. When he made it onto the beach, he stormed into the water to find nothing. The ship had been a dream, another mirage.

The hunters closed in and gave him a wordless option: Come or go.

Waves rushed toward him, leaving him cold to the waist. He turned slowly from the horizon and turned from the only chance of escape.

Jack stepped forward, spear in his hands. When Rodger gave a loud howl, the chief raised his hand and the hunters were silent.

On Jack's right, was Maurice, face smeared with sympathy and face-paint. Ralph didn't spend too long looking at him. He was good among savages.

On Jack's left were Samneric. They held bowls of red and black, offered up as one being.

Jack gave a subtle nod and Ralph stepped forward. His teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms around himself.

First was the red. Jack dipped three fingers into the bowl, scraping the red clay and drawing three lines from temple to jaw. He filled the spaces between them, creating a single stripe.

Next came the black—ashes mixed with water and creating a foul-smelling mix. The black was smeared over his face, filling in the rest of his flesh. Ralph looked past Jack, at the trees, and watched a vivid bird fly from a treetop. It gave a single croon and vanished in the sky and over the horizon.

Rodger howled again, jabbing at Ralph with the stick, only one end pointed.

“Enough,” Jack hissed.

It had been enough to calm the boy's blood-lust.

Jack held out his spear to Ralph. Gingerly, Ralph took the stick and the ring of hunters chanted something about acceptance and blood.

The grip Jack placed on his wrist was crushing and Ralph made an involuntary whimper.

No ships had come, in spite of the signal fire and the green branches it ate. Everyday was feeding the flames with no fruit to be reaped. They began to track time with Ralph taking over the enterprise, using the sundials an old face advised and the moon and the stars.

There was no snow on the island. Only a slight dip in the temperature let Ralph know they were not directly on the equator.

Every nine days, a pig was killed and a new offering made. The meat was smoked and feasted on while the hunters danced wildly and re-enacted the chase and kill.

At first, Ralph saw this life as a prison. Jack would force him to eat with savage looks and hissed threats. Slowly, his body came to realise blood was life and life was blood.

The hunters shelved Ralph in an awkward position. He was an outsider and Rodger would give him looks in passing that made him shudder. But only when Jack was away. When he proposed something to advance their civilization, they listened and worked with Jack's approval.

Only Maurice would listen. Often, he sat next to Ralph when Jack went off to hunt. If Ralph talked, Maurice listened, but most times, Maurice just offered him fruit and sympathetic smiles.

Ralph was chosen by the chief, but he didn't know why.

A year came and went. Then another. Another.

When Ralph was fifteen, he realized the purpose of being kept by the red-headed chieftain of savages.

Ralph slipped out of the hunter's fortress and went to the beach. The waves washed over him in a cool drumming. The heat was alleviated, but only slightly.

And all at once, he felt himself burning up.

He pulled off the primitive clothes the tribe made. He relaxed, nude, on the beach while the waves came up to his waist. It reminded him of a different day so long ago.

The heat came again and not from the sun. This heat came from inside himself and Ralph gave a choked cry. He crawled toward land, curling up on the coarse sand and feeling like he would burn up and die.

A shadow covered him and he lifted his head. Ralph had hoped for Jack to come, to finally plunge the knife down.

Rodger chuckled and crooned, “Poor thing.”

Ralph managed to get up on his elbows and knees, hissing at the way the sand felt on his skin. Rodger, calm, kicked him over with a hard blow.

“Choke on sand.” It was a whisper, but harsh and full of the promise of blood.

Ralph began to think he might just do that. His breaths felt like sand scraping down his throat and he lay on the beach, fully prepared to die.

A harsh cry and a figure tackling Rodger into the waves drew Ralph's eyes. A flash of red hair, the glint of a knife. Temporary safety and Ralph allowed himself to close his eyes and rest.

He woke up in the cool dark of the forest, coarse grass beneath him. It was much more comfortable than hot sun and rough sand. Curled up by his side was warm flesh that sent electricity through him. He pushed himself up on his side and the figure next to him growled, pulling him down and closer.

“He thought,” the figure, Jack, scoffed. “Rodger thought.”

Ralph turned his head, wanting to ask what Rodger thought, but found it easier to lay there with Jack on the grass.

“You're not getting out of my sight for a long while,” Jack said softly, burying his face in the crook of Ralph's neck. “You're mine.”

Ralph wanted to shrink away from the murmured words, the thinly veiled threat, but he relaxed.

“Yours,” he agreed softly.

“Rest.”

Ralph yawned before curling up next to Jack and dropping off to sleep again.

Rodger wasn't killed, Ralph found out as Jack carried him back to their fortress. The sadist did sport a new gash on his neck that eventually scarred. Ralph wondered why Jack hadn't torn his throat out, but never bothered to ask.

It wasn't his place to ask.

Every month came the same thing.

Ralph always felt so hot he could die. Jack was there, comforting and soothing with rough, clumsy hands. While Ralph trembled for things unknown, Jack crooned softly to him.

Every touch was sparks up Ralph's spine. He needed something, but he didn't know exactly what it was.

They more often spent days together down by on the beach. Jack kept a close eyes on everything while Ralph tried to cool down in the waves. Only once in the entire twelve-month span did something happen.

The twins, curious, sat on the edge of the forest and watched. They murmured between them and Jack growled, picking up his spear. When they raised their hands and showed they were staying put, Jack let them alone.

Ralph was thankful, watching the twins while cool water washed over him. They didn't mean any harm and they never would.

He wanted to thank Jack but it wasn't his place.

At sixteen, Ralph only knew what he wanted because he had seen it.

One dark-haired boy had curled up, like himself on the first day on the beach. He whimpered softly and tried to avoid the patches of sunlight, barren of coarse grass, and the patches of cool dark. He gasped and grabbed double handfuls of grass. On the backs of his thighs was the slight sheen of slick, the same that Ralph's body made every month. Ralph knew this boy was younger than him by, at most, two years.

A second boy gave a sharp cry and bolted out of the darkness, long fair hair matted as he knelt behind the first boy. He forced the boy in the clearing up on elbows and knees, giving his shoulder a sharp bite.

Ralph, though older than both of the boys in the clearing, cowered behind a tree. He couldn't look away from the morbid spectacle as much as he wanted to.

The second boy grabbed the first boy's hair, pulling his head back and making his neck arch. When the first boy sobbed, the second boy gave a sharp slap to the back of his thigh.

Ralph realised, with a faint flush at the thought, both boys were nude.

The second pressed into the first and Ralph dropped low, creeping around to get a side view of the action. The first boy sobbed, but in relief and the first growled, much like Jack had.

It was over in the blink of an eye, both crying out in something between pleasure and fulfilment of some great duty. Ralph understood and watched the couple lay on their sides and rest.

He walked away from the scene quietly and with more questions to be asked. He climbed up to the hunter's fortress and sat next to Jack, who whittled a long stick into a spear.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, remembering it wasn't his place to ask.

Piggy turned up again. Ralph gorged himself on fruit in the cool shade, smiling softly.

“They got you too?”

Ralph turned his head, not exactly knowing what he expected.

Piggy was pale and gaunt with the effort of hiding form the hunters. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, which had adjusted to a lifetime of blurriness. His hair was only slightly longer and nothing like Ralph's own wild, matted mane.

“They got you and kept you.”

Ralph shook his head and thought Piggy wouldn't see anything more than a blur of movement. “I'm fine.”

“But you felt it, right?”

Ralph turned his head, plucking a fruit from the branches, and asked, “Felt what?”

“Heat,” Piggy said, sitting on the grass. His wore the remains of school clothes, which fit him now that he had dropped so much of the fat he arrived with. “My auntie--”

“Sucks to your auntie,” Ralph spat, biting into the fruit.

“My auntie told me that we're not all alike,” Piggy explained. “Some feel the heat and others don't.”

“It's an island. Of course it's hot.”

“Not like that,” Piggy snapped. “It comes from inside. Being with the right person is--” He drew his knees to his chest and rolled one hand.

Ralph tilted his head and asked, “It's what?”

“Magical.” Piggy didn't sound like he believed in that kind of magic.

Ralph shrugged, “Oh.” He went on eating until the fruit was gone and began to pull a second fruit down.

A cry from somewhere far off made Piggy jump. Ralph didn't.

“They're after all us different ones,” Piggy said. “The ones that feel the heat.”

“Why?” Ralph asked casually.

“Well, why else?” Piggy demanded. “To breed.”

Ralph laughed. His body shook with laughter and he dropped the fruit. A smaller boy stumbled in, took the fruit, and crept back into the brush.

“Breed?” Ralph repeated, wiping at his face and smearing the paint.

Piggy nodded viciously and told him, “There's only so many of us to go around.”

The cry came again, closer this time. Piggy got up and Ralph reached up to grasp a third fruit.

The hunter burst into the clearing, all read hair and freckles. Jack looked from Piggy to Ralph, then raised his spear at Piggy, who raised his hands.

“He's a friend,” Ralph explained, offering the fruit to Jack.

Jack snatched it up, taking a bite, and lowered his spear. Piggy lowered his hands slowly, curling up again.

“Piggy said something about breeding,” Ralph said, watching bees buzz between open blossoms.

Jack choked on the fruit and Ralph gave him a pat on the back.

“Breeding?” Jack asked.

Piggy nodded and confirmed, “Breeding. That's why you kept Ralph.”

Jack frowned and opened his mouth to protest. He drew Ralph close to him, offering a bite of fruit.

“Is it?” Ralph asked, biting into the fruit. He swallowed and watched Jack.

He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and shrugged.

Piggy scoffed, “Of course he has.”

“Shut up,” Jack hissed at him.

“No one else knows about it,” Ralph pointed out, tracing some of the scars by Jack's collarbones. “We might need him to talk.”

“Well, he's not,” Jack said firmly.

Ralph looked up at him in hurt. Jack sighed and nodded without a word.

Ralph wriggled out of Jack's grasp and pulled Piggy to his feet. He said, “You're going to love the feasts and the fire and the dancing.”

Piggy nodded but didn't feel so sure.

Rodger leered at the once-fat boy. Ralph gave him a sour look, but Jack's scowl made Rodger back off. Samneric sat next to Piggy like identical bookends.

Meat went around and Piggy nibbled at the offered slice. Samneric offered hushed words of encouragement, smiling when he did eat the meat. Once he finished, they wrapped their arms around him.

“He knows things,” Jack said softly.

The crowd of hunters went silent and all eyes turned to the newcomer to their circle. A log popped and Piggy jumped at the sound. Samneric ran fingers through his hair, rubbed his back until he settled.

“There's differences between us,” Piggy began, hands wringing and eyes squinting down at them. “Some of us feel the heat and others don't. My auntie--”

“Hurry up,” Jack hissed.

Piggy gave him a scowl and asked, “Do you want me to tell you or not?”

Jack, not used to opposition, opened his mouth. When Ralph held his hand, Jack closed it and settled with a sigh. “Go on.”

Piggy nodded and stared at the blur of fire for a while. He began again, “My auntie said they form pairs, 'cause the ones that don't feel heat are the ones that dominate, the ones that . . .”

The fire flickered over his face and he lowered it. Shame held his head, weighted it down.

“It's like what men do with women,” he mumbled to the group. “Every one who feels heat is different.”

“So what?” Jack scoffed. “Do we just exclude each other based on heat?”

Piggy nodded and pointed at Rodger. “Haven't you?”

Jack sputtered and raised his spear. Ralph gave a cry and pleaded. Jack glanced from Piggy to Rodger to Ralph and decided one pig was enough. He slowly settled, lowering the spear again.

“Those that don't feel it get possessive. It's something to do with scent,” Piggy said, curling up tighter. Samneric pet him, smiling at each other before smiling at Piggy.

Jack thought for a long while and then asked, “So what do we do?”

Piggy squinted in his direction and said, “What does any creature do but survive?”

Ralph lay next to Jack, running fingers through vivid red hair.

“Do you believe any of that shit?” Jack asked, pulling Ralph's hand away from his hair and close to his chest.

Ralph shrugged, “I don't really know what to think.”

Jack sighed and closed his eyes, letting go of Ralph's hand. Ralph pressed it against Jack's chest, feeling the slow beat of his pulse.

It wasn't his place to have an opinion.

Ralph found Piggy and Samneric on the beach the next morning. Piggy was giving ragged gasps while the twins coaxed him to breathe. One held Piggy's head in his lap while the other knelt between parted legs.

Piggy writhed in their shared grasp, gasping like a fish out of water. One massaged the sides of his neck and, as Ralph watched, planted kisses on his forehead. The other ran hands over his chest and belly, worshipping the heaving skin and muscle.

Once Piggy began breathing evenly, the twins stared at each other and nodded.

Ralph looked away as he heard Piggy gasp over the roar of the waves and knew what it meant. He walked away from the crooned praise and once-more ragged breathing.

When they met at the fire that night, just for the sake of Piggy being made an example of assimilation, Ralph couldn't meet his gaze. He stared down at his lap and over at Jack, not wanting to admit his envy. Piggy mouthed some words Ralph didn't make out while Samneric painted up his face in blood red and bone white and nighttime black. They smiled at him and held him close, both so full of pride.

Jack huffed and drew Ralph a little closer into his lap.

During the next heat, Ralph realised what he needed.

Jack ran his fingers down Ralph's brown back, crooning, “Precious creature.”

It wasn't his place to want, but Ralph wanted. He turned his head and pressed his lips to Jack's and felt the other stiffen. Jack got up without a word, sitting and staring down at Ralph. There was something he couldn't identify on his face and Ralph gave a soft sob of need and want.

Jack reached over and rubbed his back again and went back to crooning his praises.

Once they emerged from their little den, they didn't talk about the kiss or what it meant.

Ralph watched the twins coax Piggy into eating something. Once he finished, they showered him with light little kisses.

Jack held him close and Ralph knew exactly what he wanted, even if it wasn't his place to ask.

Piggy began to bloat. Not like a corpse or with fat, but something different.

He rarely left the twins' touch and, if he did, at least one was close by and keeping an eye on him. They took him down to the beach and, when Ralph could hear them, they praised him and showed him nothing but affection.

Jack always huffed at the little displays of intimacy and affection.

One morning, Piggy went with one of the twins down to the beach. Once out of earshot, Jack scoffed, “Fatty's back to his old ways.”

Ralph sighed, pausing in his weaving of leaves for a new mat. He said, “His name's Piggy and he's got something I don't have.”

Jack rounded on him, eyes cold and freezing Ralph's blood. He demanded, “What do they have that you don't? What could they possibly have?”

Ralph opened his mouth and the words died on his tongue the moment he summoned the air. He shook his head and went back to his work.

Jack glanced at Rodger, and they shared a nod. Rodger watched Ralph and this time with curiosity.

“Well?” Jack spat at Rodger. “Quit gawking and get to work!”

Rodger scurried off and Ralph cringed. He could never have what Piggy had.

Samneric rushed Piggy down to the lagoon one morning without a word to anyone. They worked quickly while Ralph watched from his place in the fortress.

Piggy seemed to be in pain and the twins peppered him with affection and whispered words to him.

Jack stirred, groping the space where Ralph should be. He lay back down, staring up at the sky. He wanted it, but he couldn't just walk away from Jack and be with the twins.

Ralph turned his back to the boy next to him. Jack was fire and ice and he was deadly.

He wanted to cry, but he sucked it up. Biguns never cried, even when they wanted something so badly they thought they would die without it.

Samneric brought Piggy and a small bundle up to the fortress.

Piggy showed them the bundle, clutching it close to himself. Everyone seemed delighted except for Rodger, who scowled.

“What the hell's this?” Jack hissed.

“The results of breeding,” Piggy said, matter-of-factly.

The contents of the bundle stirred and gave a cry.

“We need--”

“--a pig.”

Jack stared at the twins and asked, “Don't we all?”

“It's for--

“--milk.”

Jack scrunched up his nose and said, “Gross.”

“Gross or not, it's true,” Piggy said. “We should start domesticating sows for when we need milk.”

“I think it's a good idea.”

Eyes turned to Ralph, who sat next to Jack. He plucked at the simple leaves he was dressed in and shrugged.

“What do you mean?” Jack asked, voice rising in a panicked pitch.

Ralph shrugged again and said, “I mean, if we can keep having hunters, it's a good idea to have milk to feed them, right?”

Jack stared at him for a long moment before he nodded. He looked at Samneric, who looked between each other. One nodded and turned to leave while the other led Piggy to a shaded area where he could rest.

Maurice glanced around and called, “I'm coming too!” He crossed the bridge of stone and disappeared with one of the twins into the forest.

“Is this what you want?” Jack asked Ralph softly.

Ralph sighed, “It would be nice. Better than nothing, I guess.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “We need everyone, Ralph. You know that.”

“Then why not more?” Ralph demanded, cheeks hot with rage. “You just hold me and tell me I'm pretty.”

“Ralph--”

“Save it, Merridew,” Ralph spat, standing up. “I'm just a toy to you.”

“Ralph--”

Ralph turned and rand across the bridge and into the forest. With a sigh, Jack put his face in his hands.

He didn't notice Rodger slip coyly off after Ralph.

Ralph sat in a clearing, munching angrily on fruit and thinking over his argument. How could he tell Jack it wasn't working? How could he tell him he wanted what Piggy had, but he didn't want to be Piggy?

Here and there, butterflies drifted lazily through the clearing and settled on trees or on rotten fruits. Ralph watched them bitterly. Even insects had more than him.

He tossed his half-eaten fruit aside, watching a dark, freckled boy steal out of the shadows and claim it as his own. Ralph noticed the slight swell of the boy's abdomen and gave a frustrated cry.

Rodger stood behind him and raised a rock the size of his fist. Ralph stared down at his lap and sighed.

Rodger crept forward half a pace and a pile of dead leaves rustled. Ralph whipped his head around, but didn't spot the danger in the shadows. He went back to moping and rolled onto his back as Rodger threw the stone.

It landed next to Ralph's head and startled him. He sat up and gave a shriek just as Rodger pounced on him. Hands wrapped around his throat and forced Ralph's head against the ground.

Ralph clawed at his arms, head whipping this way and that. He began to turn red, then plum. As he struggled to cry out, the weight was lifted and he turned onto his side.

“You alright, mate?”

Hands helped Ralph sit up and then stand up before shooing him into the brush. Ralph watched Rodger gave a hunter's cry and reach for anything to fight off the figures in the clearing.

Rotten fruit was the best he could do and the foulness of it left one of the figures coughing while the second began to give chase. Ralph huddled further down in the brush, trying to block out the cries of fighting.

It wasn't his place to get violent.

Sam (or was it Eric?) helped him back to the fortress where Jack was waiting. Piggy eyed the mark on Ralph's neck, but said nothing. He focused on the whining bundle in his arms.

Ralph watched the twin smile and go join the rest of his little family. He knew there was something deep in him that broke at the sight of the four together.

Hot tears leaked out of his eyes and poured down his face.

“Ralph.”

He allowed Jack to pull him close. It was gentle and so unlike Jack that Ralph flinched.

“It's alright,” Jack promised him, rubbing his back. “You're safe.”

“I don't want to be just safe,” Ralph whispered, sobbing into the crook of Jack's neck. “I want to be loved.”

“I do love you.”

“You ever show it,” Ralph said. “The one thing I want, the only thing, and you refuse.”

Jack paled a bit and asked, “Do you really think we--?”

“Yes!” Ralph said. “We could and we can. I've been trying to tell you.”

Jack shook his head, “I'm not--”

“No one is,” Ralph told him. “But you kept me safe.”

Jack licked his lips and found Samneric staring at him. The twins nodded and Jack turned to Ralph.

“I'm not going to be a good parent,” Jack promised him.

Ralph sighed, “There's no manual. You just do it and learn.”

“I'll be awful at it,” Jack said. “You'll run away from me.”

“No, you won't,” Ralph told him, curling up and resting his forehead on his knees.

Jack sighed and set his spear down. He pulled Ralph to his feet and asked, “When?”

“Tomorrow,” Ralph told him softly.

Jack nodded and led Ralph to their little den. Ralph could hardly sleep that night, even when the news of Rodger's death was brought back by Maurice.

He fell and that was that. The murderous figure was completely gone and, if Maurice was to be believed about the sea, Rodger would never be seen again.

One of the twins led Jack down to the lagoon as dawn broke over the island. Ralph hissed, clinging to him as he felt another pain.

“It's not too much farther,” the twin promised.

Jack nodded and glanced down at Ralph. “Can you manage it?” he asked softly.

Ralph nodded, trembling ever so slightly.

The twin helped Jack ease Ralph into the pool, which helped some of the pressure and pain Ralph felt. Ralph clung to Jack and he kissed the fair boy's forehead.

“I'm not going anywhere,” he promised softly.

“Good, because I might strangle you with your own guts after this,” Ralph said, squirming at another pain.

The twin chuckled and assured Jack, “He was the same way.”

Ralph tried to relax, tried to hold still. The hours passed and Ralph spent them crying out and crushing Jack's hand.

When it was over, Ralph held a child with a shock of red hair and freckles. He smiled, proud to have a little hunter in his arms.

Jack was shaking slightly and kissed Ralph's cheek. “I don't want to hold him yet.”

Ralph nodded, understanding his need to put some distance between him and the child.

The twin busied themselves with the after work and nodded for Ralph to sit up. Jack helped him, skin brushing the child's cheek and drawing their attention.

The child's face scrunched up and gave a loud cry.

“I can bring down some milk from one of the sows,” Jack offered.

Ralph nodded and asked, “Would you?”

Jack climbed out of the lagoon, running off into the growing twilight.

The twin patted Ralph's knee and told him, “Give him time.” There was a pause, as if they were waiting for someone to finish the sentence. They added, “He'll come around.”

Ralph said, “I'm fine with this.”

It wasn't his place to question what he had been given, especially if it was wonderful.