As far as we can go
Chapter 1
As the first light began to creep over Brokeback Mountain, Ennis felt the first signs of life begin to creep back into his sleeping body. Over the weeks he had become quite accustomed to waking up cold and shivering, and the first thing he noticed, before he was even properly awake, was that his body felt surprisingly hot and the sheet was sticking to his damp skin. Groggily he opened his eyes, realizing that he remembered very little of what had happened the night before. He was lying on his side, facing the tent door, and through the thin gap in the canvas he could see a glimpse of their camp; the fire with its burnt out wood, the horses, the bean cans… Then he remembered, of course. A night of too much whisky, and more words than he had uttered in a long time. Crawling in to the tent in the middle of the night had not been his first choice but then again, there hadn't been much alternative other than freezing to death.
He would have to go the sheep at once, Ennis realized, feeling a jolt of guilt for having left them alone. Struggling to regain full consciousness, he raised his hands and ran them roughly across his face. It was only then, he realized in a sudden jolt of shock, that the arms wrapped around his chest were not his own.
Hot fear, in the form of slow realization, was beginning to rise within Ennis' body. And then, in one sudden moment, he could feel everything, and everything was Jack. The confident cowboy, the rodeo rider, Jack fucking Twist was lying directly behind him. His strong arms were around Ennis' body holding him close, his bare chest pressed tightly against Ennis' back. Their legs lay entangled on the tent floor; Ennis could feel weight on his thigh…
He was suddenly hit with overwhelming panic and a gripping sense of nausea. Gasping and heaving, he wrenched his legs free, throwing off Jack's hands. He did not care how rough his hands were or how cruelly he kicked; all that mattered was that he could not have Jack's skin against his own for a second longer. Rolling away, he struggled blindly to rip open the tent door. Half crawling, half standing, he staggered out of it. The cold air hit him like a punch in the stomach; he fell to his knees and threw up violently on the ground. The sound of his retching, over and over, ripped through the silence of the still morning and the beauty of Brokeback. The mountain, beautiful and untouched, suddenly seemed dirty and vulgar. As he coughed and vomited into the dust, Ennis heard what he had been dreading; the sound of movement within the tent.
"Ennis," he heard Jack call, weak and sleepy. "Ennis."
Ennis forced himself to his feet, forcing down everything inside him that was trying to fight its way back up. It took all his strength to remain on his feet, but he would not let himself succumb. He lunged towards his horse, Arrow, who had been loosely tied close by, his tack laid out next to him. Ennis' hands were shaking as he seized the bridle and forced the bit clumsily into the horse's mouth. The stallion protested immediately to the rough handling, kicking and tossing his head, alarmed by Ennis' uncharacteristically brutal and urgent manner.
"Come on," Ennis hissed through his teeth. "Come on you son of a bitch."
Reaching up, he grabbed the horse round the neck and pulled his head down violently, ramming the cold metal into his mouth so forcefully that it drew blood. Arrow snorted furiously, his eyes rolled back to white, his ears flat against his head. Ennis hardly noticed; as he threw the reins over, he was already glancing furtively back towards the tent. His heart lurched into his throat as he saw the tent flap opening, and he felt his stomach do likewise as the handsome, bare-chested figure of Jack Twist emerged. Ennis was suddenly very aware of the dryness of his lips, as Jack slowly buckled his belt and straightened his shoulders. He looked up, and for an instant their eyes met across the camp.
"Ennis," Jack called again. "Ennis, wait."
Now he began to make his way across to where Arrow stood, his pace quickening to a slow run. Ennis felt the numbing sensation that although Jack was speaking, all he could hear was a dull buzz. He caught words – don't, mistake, understand – but they made no sense, and he found it was impossible to distinguish a sentence between them. Or perhaps he didn't want to hear.
Frantically he turned away, grasped hold of Arrow's mane and hauled himself onto the horse's back. It felt frightening dangerous without the saddle beneath him, but Ennis was too taken by a new terror to notice. Suddenly he knew that if Jack caught him, spoke to him, there would be no going back. The very thought was sickening, impossible. He could not, would not, let that happen. With the horse bucking and dancing on the ground, Ennis clung to him with a strength he did not know he had, and brought his legs down hard on the horse's sides. Arrow gave a sharp cry, his front legs came clear of the ground, and he leapt forward in a storm of dust and flashing hooves. Away from the camp, and more importantly, away from the terrifying presence of Jack Twist.
As he rode, Ennis felt every bone in his body wracked with sickening horror. It was not the horror that Jack had slept beside him, felt him, touched him… it was the far worse horror, of knowing that he had wanted to touch him back.
A/N: like everyone else, I was shocked and horrified to hear about Heath Ledger's death. I watched Brokeback Mountain just a couple of days later, and (after crying for over an hour) felt inspired to attempt a story based on it; this is that attempt, and my first at a 'serious' fan fiction. Reviews would be very much appreciated )
