Work Text:
Jack Merridew died slowly. Not dramatically, not heroically.
There was no revelation waiting at the end of his life, no grand redemption earned through suffering.
Only pain.
Endless, grinding pain that settled into his bones as age hollowed him out little by little.
By seventy-three, his hands trembled constantly. His lungs burned during winter mornings. Some nights the ache in his chest became so unbearable he could only sit awake in darkness and wait for dawn.
The doctors called it illness. Jack called it punishment. And perhaps that was why he endured it so quietly. Because some part of him still believed he deserved to hurt.
The room around him was dim and silent except for the ticking of an old clock somewhere near the fireplace.
No one sat beside his bed.
His children visited occasionally, polite, distant, uncertain men and women who resembled him only in fragments. Jack had tried to love them properly. He truly had. In his own broken way, he believed he did. But fatherhood had always felt like performing a role written for someone else.
Just like marriage.
He had married because fear still controlled him back then. Fear of disappointing his father. Fear of suspicion. Fear of himself.
His wife had been decent.
That almost made it worse. Because Jack could never give her what she deserved. Not truly, not completely. There had always been a room inside his heart that belonged to someone else.
A dead boy with brown curls and gentle eyes.
The divorce came quietly in his forties. No screaming. No scandal. Just two exhausted people finally admitting that whatever existed between them had never really been love.
After that, Jack lived alone. Half his life spent buried himself in works and rebuilding reputation. The other half mourning Simon.
Always Simon.
Even now, at the very edge of death, it was Simon who lingered in every corner of his mind. Simon. Thirteen years old forever.
Jack closed his eyes weakly as another wave of pain spread through his chest. He was tired.
God, he was so tired.
And beneath that exhaustion lay something even deeper: fear. Not fear of death itself. Jack had stopped fearing death decades ago. No, he feared what came after.
Because what if Heaven existed?
And what if Simon was there?
Would Simon still smile at him after everything?
Would Heaven even allow someone like Jack through its gates?
His throat tightened painfully.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered into the empty room. The apology had lived inside him for sixty years.
“I loved you too late.” Silence answered him.
The clock continued ticking softly. Jack’s breathing weakened. Then weakened again.
And slowly, everything stopped hurting.
The pain vanished so suddenly it startled him. No burning lungs. No trembling hands. No crushing ache beneath his ribs.
Only warmth. Soft wind brushed against his skin. Jack frowned slightly before opening his eyes. The hill beneath the Tree of Destiny stretched before him.
Sunlight spilled golden across endless green fields. The old branches swayed gently overhead, leaves whispering softly in warm air.
And standing beneath the tree, was Simon Cambourne.
His back faced Jack at first. Brown curls moved lightly with the breeze. Narrow shoulders. Small frame. Young, still so unbearably young.
Jack’s breath caught violently in his throat.
No. No, no—
“Simon,” he whispered. Tears flooded his eyes instantly. Without thinking, Jack stumbled forward, and stopped.
Panic seized him all over again.
Did he deserve this?
Did he deserve Simon after everything?
After the island. After the spear. After the blood. After everything. Could Simon truly still love someone like him?
Then Jack looked down at himself shakily. His hands were no longer old. No wrinkles. No veins. Small again. Thirteen years old. The age he had been before losing everything.
Jack’s thoughts spiraled violently.
Maybe this was punishment. Maybe this was another cruel dream before judgment finally came.
But then Simon turned around. And God, he looked exactly the same.
Soft curls and warm cheeks. Wide eyes filled with impossible gentleness. That familiar dreamy smile Jack had mourned his entire life.
Simon lifted one hand and waved lightly.
“Hullo, Jack,” he said softly. His voice nearly shattered Jack where he stood. “It’s been a while.”
That was all it took. Jack broke.
A sob tore violently from his chest as he ran forward without another thought.
“Simon—”
He crashed into him hard enough to nearly send them both falling into the grass. But Simon only giggled. Bright, warm voice Jack had not heard in over sixty years.
Jack wrapped his arms around him desperately and lifted him off the ground entirely, holding him so tightly it almost hurt. Simon laughed harder at that, arms immediately circling around Jack’s neck.
And then, Simon buried one hand gently into Jack’s hair exactly the way he used to.
That familiar touch destroyed him completely. Jack sobbed uncontrollably against Simon’s shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” he cried brokenly. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry—”
Simon held him tighter. “I know.”
“I killed you.” The words came out horrified and small.
Simon’s fingers threaded carefully through his hair. “I know.”
“I realized it too late,” Jack choked out. “I should’ve stopped them—I should’ve—I should’ve—”
“Jack.” Simon’s voice remained impossibly soft. Patient. Loving.
The way it had always been.
Slowly, Simon pulled back just enough to cup Jack’s face in both hands. Jack trembled violently beneath the touch.
Then Simon leaned forward and kissed him. Softly and tenderly.
A kiss filled not with grief or desperation, but homecoming. Jack made a wounded sound against Simon’s mouth as tears continued streaming endlessly down his face.
When Simon finally pulled away, he rested their foreheads together gently.
“I think all the suffering you carried through your life,” Simon whispered, “was more than enough.”
Jack stared at him helplessly.
“You don’t have to hurt anymore.” Simon smiled softly. “Now it’s time for you to rest.” His thumbs brushed beneath Jack’s tear-stained eyes. “And make up for it by staying beside me forever.”
Jack broke into sobs all over again.
“Yes,” he whispered desperately. “Yes, Simon. Of course I want to." His hands shook as he clung tightly to Simon’s clothes.
“I’ll love you properly this time,” Jack promised through tears. “I swear I will. I won’t hurt you anymore. I love you, Simon—I love you so much—I need you—”
Simon smiled with such unbearable tenderness that Jack felt something inside him finally unravel after a lifetime pulled painfully tight.
Then Simon wrapped his arms around him once more.
And this time, Jack no longer felt guilt clawing beneath his ribs. He's not scared anymore. He's not grieving anymore. Only warmth. Only relief and happiness. Only Simon.
Home.
After an entire lifetime spent wandering lost and haunted and aching, Jack had finally come home to the boy who had waited for him with open arms all along.