Author's note: Hey everyone, I have been working on this book for almost a full year now. I have more chapters than posted, I'm just doing a little tweaking. Reason it took me so

long to write this book is because I have been very devoted into making this the best book I could possibly ever write. I've spent time watching the movie over and over so this

book fits perfectly in with the movie so no one will get confused, and the movie happened, there's no getting around what the movie presented us with so I made this a puzzle

piece to the movie after weeks and weeks of watching it and making important notes. The movie did not do justice in the end, when Jack died, there were no logics behind that

idea. So I'm here to bring it justice. As for the rest I have not stolen any ideas from other brokeback mountain fanfics, because I have not read one yet :) as for copyright and

what not, this is not part of the original storyline. I, in no way, own brokeback mountain copyrights or anything else, the end. Please review and enjoy.

Chapter 1

August 14th 1978

It was a warm sunny day, strange for august weather in this part of town. Ennis peared out Jack's window from his old bedroom, watching the wind carry the clothes hanging from

the clothes line. Even still with Jack gone from his old room for so many years, it smelled just like him.

He slowly turned his gaze to the closet. All of his old clothes, even from the time he was a small boy were in that closet. Even his old boots. He picked them up, carefully sliding his

hand over the old worn out shoe, but something else caught his eye. There was a warm subtle feeling in Ennis' heart as he softly caressed his jacket, kissing it. Reminiscing back in the

days when they wrestled together tugging on eachothers clothes like two young boys in the middle of summer. So many thoughts raced through his head as he slowly paced his room,

"Damn son of a bitch, you had it all this time.." He lightly smiled as a tear rolled off his cheek. He couldn't believe he was really gone, if only he would have known that was the last time he

was to ever see him again . . things would have been different. He would have put more effort into seeing more often; he would have listened to his reasoning instead of always shaking

it off . . well it was too late now. He looked down at his empty bed, it still had a crease in it from where Jack once slept. He longed to feel his arms around him, telling him in his soft

reassuring voice like he always did, "Hey . . everything's gonna be OK."

His bed was soft. He slowly fell back in it and all these intense feelings he was holding back came rushing through him like waves. Sorrow, guilt, pain and regret. Every emotion he

could possibly feel took control of him like a whirlwind. Just like the first time he laid his head on his chest. Somewhere deep down he knew Jack would be upset if he saw him like this, but

he couldn't control it. He wrestled his head under his covers, he could feel his hot breath as his heaves grew louder, and louder. He felt like someone had taken a torch and lit it in his

chest. This feeling was insatiable. Eternal. He couldn't take it, "DAMN IT!" he groaned slamming his fist into the side of his head, "DAMN IT! DAMN IT!" he repeated punching the sides of

his temples.

He started thinking about how Laureen told him he died. How he got in a tire accident, and it broke his jaw. He knew that was bullshit. "Jack was too damn smart for that, ain't nothin'

he couldn't really do." How she sounded so emotionless, as if it didn't bother her. She probably found out about the two of them, and that's why she didn't care.

He slowly pulled himself away from the bed now pacing the room. He started thinking about what he daydreamed about, the day he called Laureen. It didn't make sense. If she had

really known about the two of 'em why didn't she sound angry when he told her who he was. She treated him as if he was just another friend of Jack's, nothing added up. He envisioned

Jack getting beaten to death by a group of men; violently kicking, and hitting him like he was some wild animal. He started thinking back when he was a young boy looking down on a

man that had been punished and brutally killed by being dragged by a horse. He may not of known how Jack died, but he did know one thing for sure, his idea of what happened made a

hell of a lot more sense to him, than what he was told, even if it was just a crazy thought he dreamt up in his head.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door. Ennis quickly pulled the covers up on Jack's bed, making it look as how he left it. "Can I come in?" a soft womanly voice called from the

other side. Ennis wiped up his face throwing Jack's clothes on his bed, "Yea, sure com' on in."

The elderly woman slowly stepped in the room carrying a little brown bag in her hand. Jack looked nothing like his parents, but his mother had that same soft spark of blue in her

eyes that Jack had. It made it difficult for Ennis to look directly at her. She gently put her hand on his arm, "I want you to have this." she said trying not to choke up."

Ennis reached his hand out to grab the soft brown pouch, "What is it?" he murmured.

She gently tilted his chin making him lock eyes with hers, "Their Jack's ashes. I know how much he lov'd that place, he talked 'bout it all the time, he talk'd 'bout you all the time too, I

know you were one o' his best friends." she whimpered wiping a tear away from her cheek. "I need you'n to take 'em back up with ya, it's what he would've wanted."

He grabbed the small brown bag abruptly from her wrist clenching on to it as if his life depended on it. "Don't worry 'bout it." he mumbled walking out the door. "Wait!" she softly

growled pulling on his shoulder, "You can't just walk on outta here like that, if my husband sees ya with it, you'll be in a heep o' trouble. You need somethin' to put it in."

Ennis wasn't thinking about leaving, he was just so disoriented he didn't realize what he was doing, "Right." he mumbled looking around the room for whatever he could find. "I'll put

'em in this." he said firmly holding up Jack's blue, button-up.

"Where did you find this?" she asked as if she'd never seen it grabbing it by the sleeve.

"It don't matter." he replied turning it away from her to wrap the brown cloth bag in the shirt. He didn't mean to come off so rude, that was the last thing he wanted to do in front of

Jack's mother, but knowing he now possessed his ashes, and his shirt, that's all he really wanted when he first got there, more than their approval of him.

She wrapped her hands tightly together, "Well, alright, we best be gettin' downstairs b'fore my husband suspects somethin'." She replied grabbing him by the arm, pulling him down

the stair case. She hesitated for a moment pressing her hand against his chest, "Let me go first." she whispered.

He gently folded the two shirts up with the ashes into a big brown paper bag. It seemed so unreal that everything he had ever come to care about, the only thing that depicted who

he was, was now in this small brown paper bag.