Title: The Words Do Not Come, Part III
Date written: May 9, 2006
Pairing: Jack/Ennis
Rating: PG-13
Plot summary: An AU piece about what would bring Ennis to Jack. Occurs sometime between the divorce and their last meeting.

Word count: 1,239
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters—that honor goes to Ms. Proulx.
Author's Note: It's so hard to write these fillers scenes. I have no patience for them. I'm hoping to barrel through them and get to the good stuff.

Feedback: Please, please, please. You really have no idea how happy it makes me.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Jack knocks softly on the door before entering, knowing he won't get a response. Ennis is curled on the bed, obviously not asleep but perhaps not fully awake either. Jack returns to the easy chair, and shafts of sunlight play across Ennis's still form.

"We're goin' a the Mountains tomorrow, friend. Goin' a get away for a little while, get out a this damned house." Looking around the room, decorated by Lureen of course, he comments, "All this red 'n white's 'nough to drive a man mad, huh?"

He gets up, wanting to go to Ennis, to touch his hair and face, to see the secret in his eyes. Instead he hovers over the nightstand, fiddling, and moves around the water glass and framed pictures. He notices that Ennis is looking at their family portrait. Lureen in the dress her mother made her wear, Jack in the clothes Lureen made him wear, and Bobby in the clothes Jack made him wear—their smiles looked painted on, as if the artist couldn't muster up enough emotion to paint a convincing picture. Jack turns it face down.

"Well, I'm a go get some work done so they can manage without me f'r the week. Y'let me know the second you need anythin', awright?" Ennis moves his head a bit, burying it deeper into the pillow, and Jack understands it's the closest he'll get to an affirmation. There is a wish on the tip of Jack's tongue, but it remains undefined, and he lets it sit for the moment. He's not sure what else he can do.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, son. What're workin' on there?" Jack says, leaning against the wall next to Bobby's desk.
"Jus' doin' some dumb homework, Daddy. Mamma tol' me we got a guest. How come I ain't met 'im?" Bobby says, putting down his pencil, glad for an excuse to stop straining his eyes over the paper.
"He ain't feelin' none too good right now, but when he's feelin' better I'm sure he'd love t'meet you."
"Y'want me to call up Rob and Fred? They can help us finish the breakfast mamma made. I already had about five pancakes." He puffs his cheeks out and crosses his eyes. Jack, laughing, ruffles his hair.

"Now don't go makin' that face at Mamma, she'll lick you a new one, boy."
"Y'think I'm stupid, Daddy? Sheesh. I ain't forgot what she did when I tol' her the pork was too salty."
"That a boy. Now, listen, I want you to be real good for your Mamma the next week, 'cause I ain't goin' a be here. Behave yourself so's I don't have to stop your Mamma from whippin' you, now."
"Awright. Where you goin' a be? I didn't know you was goin' to sell equipment this week."
"I'm takin' Ennis away for a little while to help him feel better."
"Why will goin' away make 'im feel better? We're real nice, we can give him lots a cough medicine and I'll make sure he has a throw-up bucket by his bed if you need."
"That's mighty kind a you to offer Bobby, and I'm sure he'd 'preciate that. But he needs some fresh air, so we're goin' up to the mountains."

Bobby, scrunched up his brow, making his "why are adults so weird" face, and said, "Awright, Daddy. Whatever you say. But that cherry stuff always makes me feel better."
"Now you get back to that homework. Try'n finish before bedtime, hmm? Dinner's in about ten minutes."
Bobby grumbles something incomprehensible and picks the pen up again. Jack wonders why he leans so close to the paper to read, thinking maybe he needs glasses. He'll have to tell Lureen about it later.

As he walks by the guest room, he hears the shower running. Relief uncoils in his chest like a napping cat. Ennis must be feeling better to shower. A shadow passes his face as the image of Ennis slitting his wrists under the water comes up in his thoughts, but he quickly quashes it. "Fuck, fuck… fuck." No way, no how. Despite his attempts to ignore the idea, it has taken hold of him, and he enters Ennis's room to wait for him to finish showering.

He tries to see the room as it must look through Ennis's eyes. It's like a hotel; the sheets pressed to a sharp edge, not a speck of dust on the dark mahogany shelves, all the pictures lined up perfectly along the wall, a mix of emotion-less family portraits and horse-themed paintings. It was almost as if some designer had come into this room and vomited red and white everywhere; it was hard to find a surface covered in something else. Not surprising considering they are Lureen's favorite colors, but Jack thinks that maybe it's time for a new look. He doubts she'll receive the suggestion warmly, though.

He gets up, deciding to make the bed instead of just twiddling his thumbs. The scent that is distinctly Ennis hits him as he rips the blanket off the bed, and he feels himself swelling against his jeans, hard. "Shit." He tries to finish the task at hand, debating between going and staying. Just as he decides that Ennis doesn't need to see him like this right now, the man of the hour emerges from the bathroom in a cloud of voluminous steam.

"Double shit," Jack whispers under his breath. Ennis is wearing the guest bathrobe, looking distinctly incongruous in the white fluffy fabric. Jack is floored by the domesticity of it—the Ennis he knows only ever wears boots and jeans. There's no space for bathrobe-wearing Ennis in Jack's brain.

Although he is beautiful.

Ennis sits in the easy chair, not really looking at Jack, picking at his fingernails. Jack stares, oblivious, noticing the damp clinging in the folds of Ennis's neck, the tiny droplets of water catching the light, dripping from his hair. He turns back to making the bed, finding Ennis's scent infinitely safer than this foreign vision. When he's done, he sits on the bed, inconspicuously angling his hips away from Ennis's view.

"Y'want some dinner? Well, it's breakfast, actually, but it's still a damn fine meal."
Ennis shakes his head.
Jack, encouraged by the response, continues, "Y'feelin' any better? We don' have to go campin' if you don't want, I jus' thought you might like to get 'way for a spell."
Ennis shrugs slightly.
Jack takes this as a yes. "Okay, well, we're goin' up to a range a couple a hours from here. I already got the horses lined up for us, and we'll prolly leave after breakfast."

No further movement. Jack wants to ask how Ennis got those gashes on his face, if it still hurts, does he need any ice? But he leaves him be. He also needs a cold shower before dinner, which he sure as shit isn't going to take in this room.
"Well, if you decide y'want to join us for dinner, it's just out the hall to the right. You're also welcome to grab leftovers whenever y'might want 'em."
Ennis is statue-still, so Jack nods, says "right, well," and bee-lines for his bedroom.

Jack tries not to think about how long Ennis will keep this up. Only a day, and he's about to crack under the pressure of his own desire and confusion. When the stream of cold water hits him like a slap in the face, he says "Y'sure know how to test a man, Ennis del Mar."