Title: The Words Do Not Come, Part II
Author: Sheera
Date written: May 5, 2006
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG-13 for language
Plot summary: An AU piece about what would bring Ennis to Jack.
Word count: 694
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters—that honor goes to Ms. Proulx.
Author's Note: Practicing my Jack/Lureen dialogue.
Feedback: Please, please, please. You really have no idea how happy it makes me.
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Lureen whips the batter fiercely, but watches Jack from the corner of her eye while she does it. He knows this doesn't bode well and wonders only half-jokingly if his face can take another beating so soon after the first. The spoon looks almost lethal the way she holds it, her purple-red fingernails the color of a wound.
"If that's what you call a friend, Jack, I'd be afraid t'see your enemies."
"I could a sworn we already conversated on this very thing, Lureen."
"It's not every day that I have to pick up a shotgun t'keep my husband from gettin' beat to a pulp."
"He's a mad drunk, and I ain't goin' excuse what he done. But it's over and it's time to let sleepin' dogs lie." He wants to tell her that it wasn't every day, or ever actually, that Ennis drives to Texas to see him. But he doesn't think it will help matters any.
"That ain't the damn point. I don't know who he thinks he is, just walkin' in here and doin' somethin' like that without so much of a word of apology."
Jack is exhausted. He heaves a sigh, looking at Lureen plaintively. "Look, honey, somethin' damn terrible must a happened to Ennis to bring him here like that. He must a hitched, because his car ain't 'round here anywhere, and I found an empty bottle a whiskey outside, drunk dry. He's my friend, and my guest, so I'd appreciate it if you could give me a break. It's not like I enjoyed being whackin' me in th' face, but it cain't be undone by an apology anyway."
Lureen bites her lip, and nods quietly. He knows she doesn't understand, but even he doesn't understand, so nothing can be done about it.
The breakfast is huge by the time she has taken out her aggression on the ingredients. Pancakes dripping with maple syrup, bacon, hashbrowns, poached eggs and flaky sweet biscuits with strawberry jam. She hardly ever cooks, but when she does, she moves through the kitchen like a tornado, leaving food in her wake like the debris after a hurricane. Jack will tell Bobby to invite some friends over tonight to share in the wealth. He isn't the slightest bit hungry, stomach clenching with anxiety, but he takes a bit of everything and eats with gusto. Ennis is still in bed.
He has not said a word since he arrived.
Jack tells himself to be patient, but he can't help wondering, Why did he come here? What does he want from me? He supposes he'll find that out in due time, as well.
"Is your guest feelin' better, honey?" Lureen asks. The question marks still in her eyes are burning holes in his forehead, but her voice is more even.
"Seems like it t'me. I doubt he'd hardly slept at all for the past couple a days. Sure wish he'd tell me what happened."
"…he still hasn't said anything?" A little hostility tinges her words.
"Cain't say that he has."
Lureen chews her bacon carefully, eliciting a crackle-crunch sound from it. "How long's he goin' a stay here, Jack?"
Jack raises his eyebrow, "Long as he needs, 'course."
"That wasn't the question."
"How'm I s'posed to know? Man hasn't said a damned thing and I cain't read minds."
"It's jus'… I don't know how Daddy will feel about us keepin' him here for too long."
Jack throws his hands up in the air. "Well, shit, Lureen, what you want me t'do? I ain't a fuckin' miracle worker here."
They eat in silence for a few moments before she quickly says, "Maybe take 'im campin' for a few days. Isn't that what y'all usually do anyway? Maybe it'll make 'im feel better."
Jack stays the automatic refusal on his tongue, mulling over the idea. "That might not be a half bad idea."
He finishes breakfast, bracing himself to see Ennis again. Lureen tries to appear nonchalant, moving her fork through her hashbrowns, but she watches closely as Jack walks away.
Before disappearing from sight, he turns and says, "We'll leave tomorrow mornin'. I'm takin' the week off'a work."