PART II - THE LEFT BRANCH

Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Genre: Canon based AU; inspired by the short story by "The Roads of Destiny"
Word count: 2,272
Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me, the plot may be similar to others'. It's something I just had to write down. No rent is sought from it, I'm just sharing with the likeminded crowd.
Feedback: I´d appreciate it, thank you!

Huge thanks to my beta EsmeAmelia.


"You are too much for me, Ennis, you son of a whoreson bitch. I wish I knew how to quit you!"

The words stabbed like a dull rusty pitchfork through Ennis' guts and he fought back reflexively.

"Then why don'tcha? Why don'tcha let me be, huh? It's 'cause a you that I'm like this – am nothin', am nowhere…"

But even while he was throwing the hurtful words back at Jack, Ennis' thoughts were desperately clawing at the notion of Jack quitting him. No! Not possible!! His mind refused to register such a premise.

A sudden wave of cold dread blackened his vision for what seemed like just a moment, but in that moment a whirlwind of images flashed through Ennis's mind, plain and inescapable, worse than what he had always believed to be his worst nightmares: tire irons, Jack's broken and bloody face, a postcard with a red stamp "Deceased" across, a plain wooden cross against the grey of wind-licked Wyoming plains and Ennis himself, two old dirty shirts clutched to his chest, broken and dead to the world.

Ennis dropped heavily on his knees like he'd been shot, two stinging tears cutting through tightly shut eyes. He didn't care that Jack could see his tears, for the first time ever. He just couldn't absorb the vision of a possibility he just knew he would never be able to withstand.

Jack was already on his knees beside him, holding him tight, whispering soothingly "'S alright, Ennis, 's alright.", but Ennis could hear a world of weariness in his voice.

"I cain't stand it no more, Jack! 'M sorry, I cain't…" The words came out in a rush, stumbling over each other and for once Ennis did not make any attempt to hold back. He clung to Jack's chest, with no shame, no reservation, only the desperate wish to erase the sickening images from his mind.

Jack sensed a difference in his voice and froze, then pulled back a little, trying to read his man's face. He probably saw it there too, the difference, because the dull grey sheen in his eyes started melting away and suddenly Ennis was drowning again in the deepest and brightest blue he'd ever known.

"Ennis, 's okay, cowboy, am right here. We'll make it, bud, we will. I promise."

Almost destroyed by the blackest of desperations, then rekindled by a budding hope, very soon their murmurs and caressing touches caught fire and both were ablaze. It was one thing that had never changed through all the years, the passion of their couplings: it would flare up like a wildfire, consuming all, leave them soaring high long after.

They agreed that Ennis would try to sort his things out to meet Jack in September, would borrow Don's cabin again and discuss what they would do and how. Ennis was full of fears and reservations, but he didn't have the heart to thwart the hope that burned so bright again in Jack's eyes. He had not seen this Jack for years, far too many years, laughing easily and so full of life and it left Ennis struggling to gulp down the lump at the back of his throat.

The summer went by in a flurry of preparations of sort. For what, Ennis didn't knowbut didn't want to think much on it either, in case he might have second thoughts. Jack called him twice, to ask sumthin' 'mportant he said, but it didn't fool Ennis for a minute: Jack was just checking on him, to see if he had come up with those second thoughts. He steeled himself and tried to ignore Stoutmire's curious stares, focused instead on the warm fluttering in his guts at Jack's voice that changed from tentative to excited and happy.

The second thoughts and fears started to pay him visits in August. Then came the nightmares and Ennis tried to wipe them out at night with an extra amount of cheap whiskeys he could ill afford. He had a very vague recollection of the horrifying vision that had brought him down on his knees on the last trip with Jack. He was pretty sure, however, that he didn't wanna remember it and hoped that at least listening to what Jack had to say would somehow makeit go away completely. If only Ennis could rid himself of his old fears.

Then Jack called againfrom one of his sales trips, a week before their meeting. Ennis was about to leave for the day when he heard Stoutmire's holler from the doorways of his tiny, scruffy office.

"Del Mar! Call fer you. Yer friend Twist … again." His boss' tone was not unkind, but the last word still made Ennis cringe, the sense of unease like a poisonous snake raising its little ugly head.

He walked over to the house from the driveway where his old truck was parked, fuming and silently cursing Jack for keep calling, regretting he had ever given that careless fucker the phone number. What people might think, him callin' Ennis at work, ev'ry fuckin' month! Might get hisself killed actin' like that!

But Stoutmire seemed to have accepted the story of a fishing buddy going through a rough patch in his family life which Ennis had muttered under his breath after Jack's first call, eyes downcast, blushing violently. Why, it's understandable, seeing as Ennis had gone through one himself and not in a good way either, could share some experience with a friend, the old rancher had reckoned. Now, letting the younger man into his office, he patted Ennis on his shoulder sympathetically and stepped out to give him some privacy.

"'Lo, Jack?"

"Hey, Ennis! Yeah, it's me. Just wanned ta…," he never finished the sentence.

"What the fuck ya think ya doin', Jack, callin' me here ev'ry fuckin' month?" Ennis was furious at his fear as much as at Jack's recklessness, the words rushing out in a spit flying hiss.

There was a silence on the other end in response to Ennis labored breathing. It lasted a little too long and Ennis started worrying.

"Jack? Yer there? Lissen… hmmm… 'm sorry, bud, but yer shouldn't a…"

"It's alright, Ennis, I won't. No worries." Jack voice sounded tired, resigned, made Ennis want to kick himself hard. "Just wanted to tell you 'forehand that I might not be on time to the cabin next week, yer know…"

Ennis froze, panic sipping out of nowhere, spreading through his body, invading his mind. Jack seemed to get the drift immediately - he always seemed to know how Ennis' mind worked, tried to sooth his friend's worry with a rapid fire sweet talk:

"I gotta go ta Houston the day after tomorrow, Ennis, for a trade fair. That sonovabitch L.D. is down with flu or sumethin' and I got no choice, bud. I'll try to get outta there soon's I can, but could be runnin' late. By a day mayhaps? Tell you what: I'll try ta make it half a day, 'key? You wait fer me there, you hear? I'll be there, no matter what. And Ennis? We gonna make it, friend, you and me, don't you go 'round doubtin' it. Jus' wait fer me."

And Ennis did. He waited at the cabin for two days. Two fuckin' days.

Jack never turned up.

Ennis didn't know what to think, didn't know what to do, what to expect or who to turn to. For once he felt utterly helpless. And half crazed with worry. He refused to believe that Jack had given up on him. But then the only other possibility he could come up with was that something had happened to Jack which he refused to think on with the same fervor. Almost. And what Ennis didn't want to think on or feel, he drowned in whiskey at night. Then he would work himself to sheer exhaustion at the ranch during the day to dull out the unwanted thoughts.

By the end of the fifth day when Ennis had finally made up his mind to call Jack came the call.

"Del Mar! Call for you." Stoutmire sounded strangely apologetic, his eyes not meeting Ennis' when he walked in. "It's Missus Twist."

Ennis' heart stopped for what seemed like an eternity, bile coming up to his throat. He leaned heavily on the desk and picked up the phone.

"'Lo?"

"Is this Ennis Del Mar?" The voice on the other end of the line was unexpectedly high-pitched, almost girly. And quivery, like she tried hard to sound cool and matter of fact, but was failing.

"Yes, m'am, speaking."

"Mr. Del Mar, I am Lureen Twist, Jack's wife…"

For Ennis, the silence that followed lasted much longer that it actually came to pass, like forever. But he already knew that he didn't want to hear what would come after.

"Jack was in accident." She sniffed, then said quickly, like the words were poison and she had to spit them all out of her mouth as fast as possible. "He wanted me to call and tell you that he was sorry… That he didn't keep his promise to you. Kept you waiting… on your fishing trip?"

"Where's he?" He didn't want to know. He had to know.

Ennis' head was swimming and he could hardly hear her voice. Which was turning whiny and tearful again.

"Jack… he died. In the hospital. Four days ago. He was heading to his parents' place in Wyoming. Was in a big rush, driving at night. Police says he probably fell asleep and drove off the road. He was too broken, the car was a mess. He was conscious only for a few hours … before he passed…. He was only thirty nine." The little girl voice whispered and drifted off.

Ennis closed his eyes, breathing heavily,swallowed down the bile that started pooling in his mouth. No, it couldn't be. It had to be a mistake. Or a prank of some sort. Or another nightmare of his. Maybe if he tried to open his eyes now, he would wake up and it would go away. He did, but right then the tearful little voice on the other end of the line came back:

"Before he lost it… consciousness that is, Jack said he wanted his ashes to be scattered on Broken Mountain or sumthin' like that. He said you'd know where it was. Mr. Del Mar, do you? Could you possibly come and help to … to do that, as Jack wanted?... Mr. Del Mar? Mr. Del Mar, are you still there?"

Ennis' legs started buckling under him and he slid slowly on the floor by the desk, the weight of all past fears and present reality coming down on him at once, predictable but unavoidable, like a landslide.

In the end, Jack left him anyway, just like he had always feared. And not 'cause a tire irons or a bunch of old timers. Not even the little wife of the neighbor rancher or even whatever it was in Mexico that Jack'd found. No, it was him, Ennis, who's the cause that Jack was…. no more. He shoulda let Jack show him his sweet life much earlier, not driving him to the point of where both had been desperately clawing to the crumbling carcass of their …. What, friendship? More?.. Whatever it was that they had been to each other all them years…

He had thought that nothing could bring Ennis del Mar on his knees, nothing - not the death of his parents at the tender age of twelve, not his older siblings leaving him out on his own at the age of eighteen, not Alma taking his girls away from him. Not even Jack Fuckin' Twist, with his boundless hope and something else unnamable, fluid and almost palpable, in his dizzyingly blue eyes.

Although truth be told, he had done hurt Ennis badly a few times too. Like the time he'd disappeared without a word for four whole fuckin' years, right after the Brokeback. Ennis had started thinking he wouldn't be able to stand the hurt much longer when the first postcard had arrived. And then just like that, everything was alright. Ennis forgave him those four fuckin' miserable years the moment he laid his eyes on Jack again: there he stood at the bottom of the stairs to Ennis' shabby apartment, his smile huge, like Ennis had just promised him the best thing a his life, sumthin' he'd always wanted.

Or the last time they had parted at the trailhead, when Jack had spat the word "Mexico" bitterly, under his breath. That one hurt like the mother fucker and Ennis had thought for a moment that he'd never be able to forgive 'n forget, that he would kill that sonavabitch right there 'n then. But then he did, forgot it, jus' a few moments later when the sickening thought that Jack might possibly quit him had sunk in.

So in the end, itwas not Jack who brought Ennis on to his knees. He didn't, never could. Never would have done such a thing to Ennis in the first place. Not Jack, with his never-dying silly fantasies, his heart the size of Wyoming and a pair of strong arms that had always been there to catch and hold Ennisjust when he needed it most. Always… No, it was not Jack in the end. It was the bone chilling and crystal clear realization that Jack was no more. Nowhere. Not later, not ever. And Ennis couldn't do a fuckin' thing about it now, even if he'd kill himself trying.


Music: How Would I Live, Trisha Yearwood