A/N: Just a brief Ralph-centric Oneshot that takes place on the voyage home from the island, during which Ralph can't help but wonder…What now?

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Flies, although I sincerely wish that I did.

What Now?

The cruiser rocked easily with the ever-changing rhythms of the sea, the soothing motions sending Ralph deeper into his dismal thoughts.

They were saved, most of them anyway. But thoughts of their miraculous rescue only trailed memories of Simon in their wake. The little prophet had been right after all; Ralph would make it home alright. The choir boy could never have predicted how much that realisation stung Ralph now as it washed over him like the waves that had washed the lifeless bodies of his two friends to their watery grave in the deep blue.

Earlier he'd been unable to stop the salty tears carving flesh-coloured ravines down his sullied cheeks. Even as the boys were being taken to the vessel in groups, youngest first, even as the others had lapsed into a perturbed silence, the air had still echoed with his broken sobs.

Ralph had lain there for hours, until the sun disappeared behind the never-ending sea, quieted sobs wracking his shoulders -- wide shoulders that he had been proud of once upon a time.

How could he face what was to come? How could he go back to living after this? Was he supposed to just forget everything that had happened?

There'd be a memorial service, he knew, for the ones that didn't…didn't make it. Did any of the boys he'd known have a family that would attend? Would he be subjected to stares and the smiles full of nothing but the meaningless pity that none of them deserved and that he did not want?

Would he end up bumping into an older woman with Piggy's eyes and Piggy's voice? Auntie. The auntie of a true friend whose real name he had never even bothered to ask.

Would she look down at him in resentment, somehow knowing that what had happened to her nephew was Ralph's fault, or that he'd been treated without the respect that his genuine intellect should have commanded? The taunting had only been in fun, after all. Just fun.

And what about Simon's family? Had the younger boy had siblings as innocent and as kindly as he had been? Would they smile at him sadly, shake his hand and tell him that they understood? That it wasn't his fault? It wasn't murder. The word chilled him still, and brought on a fresh wave of tears.

Ralph's thoughts were interrupted however, by the sound of feet scurrying to the rail in panic as their owner unloaded the contents of his stomach into the clear water below.

It took Ralph a moment to recognize the boy as Jack. Strange to think that under the layers of caked dirt, tribal paint and dry blood was the same arrogant boy that had once explored the island with him as friends. Strange to think that under that savage exterior was a boy -- just a boy like himself -- probably worried sick of what was to become of him.

Ralph felt his heart go out to the hunter in spite of himself. Not in pity, but in understanding. True understanding.