Liz lay on her side in bed, watching through her bedroom window as the sky turned from black to gray to pink, and then on to blue. She suspected that this house's walls had seen precious little sleep this night.

After Jack left, Ennis had walked off towards the stables without another word. Liz heard hoofbeats as he rode away. She wondered if he was going off to howl at the moon, or beat drums and dance around a campfire, or some other suitably manly expression of anguish.

She'd gone back inside and tried to settle down, but her mind was bursting with questions. Why hadn't Ennis gone with Jack? What had they fought about? Why had Bobby shot himself? What had Lureen said? She wanted to know, but she didn't think it was her place to ask. She felt awkward even being here. That sense of belonging, almost of family, was sorely tested by the intrusion of a crisis. She felt like a stranger again.

You could leave, she thought. Perhaps she ought to. But she couldn't bear to leave Ennis alone like that. She knew that he was hardly alone…he had friends here, after all…but it still felt like desertion.

She rose and put on her slippers. Ennis was in the kitchen, sitting at the table with his back to her. She saw the thin curl of smoke rising from the long column of ash at the tip of his cigarette, held in one dangling hand. As she watched, the ash dropped off onto the tabletop. She came up behind him and laid a hand on his shoulder; she felt him flinch at the contact. He looked up at her as she came around to sit next to him. His face was closed and pale. "Did you get any sleep?" she asked, gently.

He sniffed. "Not much."

There was no steam rising from Ennis's full coffee cup. Liz wondered how long he'd been sitting here. She hadn't heard him come in the night before.

He took a drag on his cigarette, glancing at her. "I bet you got about a thousand questions, don't you?"

"It's not my place to ask them," she said, quietly.

He raised his head and met her eyes. "Whose, then? Ain't no one else here."

"You don't have to talk about it if…"

"If I don't wanna? I know that, Lizzie." He fell silent. His cigarette was down to the filter. He lit a new one from the old one and took a few drags, letting the smoke trickle from his nostrils. It looked like his life-force was slowly leaking out. "Bet you're wonderin' why I didn't go with him," he muttered.

She sighed. "The thought occurred."

Ennis looked down at the table, one finger rubbing at a nonexistent scratch. "He didn't want me to," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because he says he's gotta do it alone. He thinks it's his fault."

Liz blinked, wondering if she'd heard him right. "His fault? How so?"

He took a few deep breaths. "Lizzie, Bobby shot himself 'cause he was gettin' teased so bad he couldn't take no more. Teased 'bout his daddy bein' queer."

Liz watched his face, waiting for him to take it back, tell her that wasn't true, give her the real reason. "No," was all she could say.

He nodded. "Yeah." He shook his head. "Never said nothin' 'bout it to Lureen or Jack. Said so in his suicide note, though. So now Jack don't want to be shovin' it in everbody's face, like if I was there with him." He leaned forward, stubbed out his cigarette and crossed his arms on the tabletop. "I got a bag packed, Lizzie. I spent mos' 'o the night starin' at it, thinkin' I could just get in the car, go the airport and follow him there. He wasn't thinkin' straight, sayin' I oughtn't come along. I oughta be there with him, right?"

She nodded. "Right, of course."

Ennis ran a hand through his matted hair. "But is it? I'm sittin' here thinkin' mayhap he was right. Bobby was the las' thing tyin' him t'Childress. Now he's gone…that place got no claim on him no more. Maybe it's right he goes there alone to cut the cord." He let his face drop into his hands. "Partly I wanted to go with t'watch his back. But now…maybe he's safer without me there. Less conspicuous. If I was with him it'd be more…I dunno, obvious. It'd be right there in everbody's face."

Liz thought about that. He had a point. Alone, Jack might slip under the radar, but if he had Ennis there at his side, it'd be hard for tire-iron-wielding types to ignore it. "So you're not going, then?"

Ennis shook his head. "He was set on goin' alone. It pains me awful, but I gotta respect what he wants." He got up and dumped out his cold coffee. "So I guess I'll jus' wait t'hear when he's comin' back…or if he's comin' back at all."

Liz heard Marianne come in the front door at 11:00, right on time. She got up from her desk and met her in the kitchen. "Morning," Marianne said, unloading some groceries. "Where are the boys? I need their laundry."

Liz took a deep breath. "Ennis is out somewhere. Jack's gone to Childress."

That got Marianne's attention. She turned around to face Liz. "That wasn't planned, was it?"

"No. Lureen called last night." The best way to say it was directly. "Bobby shot himself yesterday."

Marianne just stared at her blankly for a moment. "What?"

"Bobby shot himself."

"That's what I thought you said," she said, her tone measured. "Oh no," she breathed. She shut her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Poor Jack."

"It gets worse."

"How can it get worse?"

"He left a note, saying that he did it because he couldn't take the teasing anymore."

"Teasing?" A look of horror passed over Marianne's face. "You mean about Jack." Liz could only nod. Marianne rubbed one hand over her mouth. "Oh, Liz. What's this going to do to them?"

"I can't stop thinking about it."

"My God, the guilt…he must be blaming himself."

"He didn't let Ennis go with him."

"Oh, I think that's best, don't you? People in Childress are going to be upset enough over this, especially if everyone knows why he did it, without Jack showing up with Ennis in tow. It'd surely seem to them as if Jack were flaunting it, even disrespecting Bobby's pain." She shook her head. "Although it must be awful to go through it alone, he'll come back here to do his real grieving. He just has to get through it and hold himself together until he returns, and Ennis will be here for him then."

Liz blinked. How was it that everything sounded so sensible when Marianne said it? "I think Ennis is more concerned with Jack's safety while he's there."

"Of course, he would be. Childress wasn't exactly the most hospitable place for Jack. Word was getting around. It'll be even worse now. Judging from what I've heard of Lureen's father, he'll make sure everyone knows it was all Jack's fault."

"He isn't responsible."

Marianne met her eyes. "Yes, he is. Not entirely, but he isn't exempt, either. He and Ennis made a hard choice when they admitted who they were to each other and moved here. I'm not saying it wasn't the right choice, but everything has consequences. Because of it, Jack wasn't there when Bobby might have needed him. Because of it, people knew what Jack was, and Bobby suffered for it." She sighed. "It's not Jack's fault that people can be so hateful, or that Bobby couldn't find a way to deal with it. And who knows? It might still have happened if Jack had stayed in Childress and never seen Ennis again. But they knew that their decisions would impact Bobby, and Junior and Francie, and probably not in a positive way. Junior and Francie are okay. They had their rough times, but they came through it and they're probably better off with a dad who's happy. Bobby…" Marianne shook her head. "He'll never have the chance to get there. And that is a tragedy."

Liz drove into town on Friday afternoon, still feeling posh behind the wheel of Jack's Mercedes, her by-default vehicle while she was at the ranch. The mood at home was grim, and she'd decided to get in some more interviews while she had the chance. The sheriff was expecting her, as was Dr. Llewellyn.

Ennis had still been missing in action when she'd left. Marianne had made her an omelet for lunch, and Liz had seen her peering out the back door, clucking under her teeth that Ennis wasn't coming in to eat. "That man is like a timber wolf," she muttered. "He spooks and runs, and goes off to his man-cave to fester and brood. Not like Jack. When Jack gets upset, he runs in a circle waving his arms around and barking like a damned border collie." She dried her hands after scrubbing the sink. "I guess opposites attract."

Liz parked in front of Dr. Llewellyn's office, a modest storefront between a law office and a cheese shop. His receptionist waved her right in.

The doctor was at his desk, much more formally attired than when he'd come to the ranch. He was wearing a white doctor's coat over a shirt and tie, a stethoscope tucked into his coat pocket. He smiled when she entered, that same boyish smile she'd noticed when she'd first met him. "Hello, Liz," he said, waving her into a chair. He came around the desk and sat next to her. Liz recognized the maneuver. He didn't want that doctor/patient dynamic that would be implied if he sat behind his desk.

"Thank you for seeing me, Doctor."

"Please, call me Peter."

"But…Jack called you Pete."

He chuckled. "I prefer Peter."

She regarded him curiously. "You seem a good deal more charitably inclined toward me than you did a few days ago."

He sighed. "I did read you the riot act, didn't I?"

"You made some valid points."

"It's just…" He thought for a moment. "Apart from moving to a city, which we both know they'd never do, Jack and Ennis won't find more tolerance anywhere than they have here. But even here, it's a careful balance. That fulcrum is narrow, Liz. A little pressure to either side and things could become a good deal less hospitable."

"Seems to me there's someone in town already trying to upset that balance."

"Yes, that concerns me too. I've heard that Mr. Forrester has left St. John's and is starting up his own church, along the lines of the one he belonged to in…where was it?"

"Kansas."

"Right. I don't know if he's attracted much of a congregation, but I drove by his house the other night and there were at least ten cars in the driveway. Could have been bridge night, but…somehow I doubt it." He brightened. "In other news, I heard from a patient of mine who works next door to his restaurant that the place has been a ghost town all week."

"That is good news." The only good news I've heard in awhile, she thought.

Peter was watching her, a speculative expression on his face. "You've stayed quite a long time."

"What can I say? The place has grown on me."

"Don't you miss the city?"

"No, surprisingly, I don't. And I'm sure my husband is enjoying this bachelor vacation," she said, chuckling.

Peter nodded. She got the odd feeling she'd disappointed him somehow. "I'm sure he is."

Marianne was leaving for the day when Liz returned from her interviews. "Any sign of Ennis?" Liz asked as they met on the front porch.

Marianne shook her head. "Still off in his man-cave. Listen, you call me if you need me to come over this weekend. I don't have any plans."

"I'm sure we'll be fine."

"If you talk to Jack…well, you give him my love, and tell him I'm terribly sorry."

"I will." Liz's mind was already halfway to the stables. She bid Marianne a distracted good-night and half-ran to saddle up Clairie. She had a pretty good idea where Ennis might have gone.

Finding her way to the high meadow wasn't as easy as deciding to go there, unfortunately. She hadn't been paying much attention to the pathway, which was barely discernible even when you knew the way, so enamored had she been of the scenery. She managed to find the wooded hill and picked her way up, guiding Clairie with gentle nudges and tugs on the reins, until she finally came out in the exposed hilltop, that Julie Andrews expanse of field with nothing but air between it and the heavens.

Sure enough, Ennis was sitting in the middle of it, his horse munching on a bush nearby. She dismounted and walked toward him quietly. He didn't look up or acknowledge her, although he must have heard her footsteps and Clairie's nickering.

She sat cross-legged at his side, saying nothing. She could feel the anxiety coming off of him in waves; they battered her like the surf on a beach. Somewhere underneath the pounding, she could sense her own heartbreak on Jack's behalf. Her own feelings for him were lost in the shuffle; she was hardly aware of them at this moment. There was just Ennis, and a teenaged boy dead too soon, and somewhere in Texas a man dealing with his son's death without the support of the person he loved the most.

They sat there in silence for a long time. Liz slipped her arm around Ennis's back and let her head rest on his shoulder. She felt him shudder, then exhale a long, shaky breath. His chin dropped to his chest.

When he spoke, his voice was low and rusty, as if he hadn't spoken in years. "I meant to grow old with him," he said.

Liz felt her heart rattle against her ribs at the hopelessness in his voice. "You will," she whispered.

He shook his head. "They're gonna get him. I got this awful feelin'…"

"He'll be fine."

"Lizzie, that dream I told you about…it's been comin' a lot, a lot more'n it ever done before. And now he's gone back where they layin' in wait for him, and you damn well know fuckin' L.D. told everbody…"

"Jack'll be careful."

"He ain't careful. He don't know how. He'll be thinkin' 'o Bobby, and Lureen, and he won't be thinkin' watchin' for it…"

"Shhh," Liz said, trying to stop herself from getting caught up in Ennis's fears, which felt terrifyingly legitimate. "It's gonna be okay."

"And if he does come back…" He met her eyes for the first time. "What if he don't want me no more?"

"I'm sure that isn't…"

"This cost Bobby's life, Lizzie. His life. That ain't so simple, and it ain't so easy t'get over." He shook his head. "I don't know how t'fight for him," he said. "He was always the one fightin'. He dragged me ever step 'o the way, but if he don't want it no more I don't know how to keep him." He fell silent for a few beats. "He's stronger'n me," Ennis said, quietly. "I'd never 'o had the balls to get back in touch with him, or keep pushin' for more, or to drive sixteen hours just 'cause he'd gotten divorced. I'd've jus' lived that half-life I had, tryin' not t'think 'bout him every damn second. Everthin' we got's 'cause he wanted it bad enough 'n believed we could have it. I don't know how t'be him!"

"You don't have to be. You're the most important thing in his life, Ennis. He isn't going to give that up, ever."

"Maybe not," he said, grudgingly. "But I cain't stop thinkin' I'm gonna lose him." Ennis sighed. "Twenty years I known that man. Since 1963, that firs' summer. I been sittin' here thinkin' on it, tryin' t'remember everythin'. It's all a blur, Lizzie." He was starting to lose it, and it was alarming. "We got so many plans," he said. "So much ahead of us. Junior's comin' t'stay, 'n we was gonna take a trip to Alaska in August, 'n we're thinkin' 'bout buyin' some more land…so why's it I cain't shake the feelin' that I ain't s'posed t'get no more time with him? Why's it feel like this is it?" He put his hands to his face. "He's s'posed to die an old, old man, and I'm s'posed t'be there with him. Not along some road in Texas, taken away by some fuckers with tire irons, lyin' there all by himself and waitin' for it t'be over, with no one t'give him no comfort, no one t'say goodbye, no one t'hold his hand, waitin' for me t'come 'n save him and me not comin', and me not there t'hear it if he says my name…"

Liz was prepared. When he started shaking she half-turned towards him and folded him into her arms. He crumpled, drawing in on himself like a turtle hiding in its shell. She wondered if he'd cry, but he didn't. He just huddled there, shaking, his breath hot against her neck. Liz held him as best she could, ignoring the sting of tears in her own eyes, trying to tell herself that it could never happen. Jack was safe from gangs of tire-iron wielding marauders. Wasn't he?

She went with Ennis to church on Sunday. Her antipathy towards religion aside, there was no way she was letting him go alone, and he was determined to attend with or without Jack.

Jack, with whom she was starting to feel annoyed. There had been not one word from him. Not a phone call, not a message. Friday night, she and Ennis had moped around the house, waiting for a call that did not come. Saturday passed in a hazy blur. Neither of them wanted to stray far from the house. They'd done some touch-up work on the barn's paintjob (nighttime painting parties, although therapeutic, were not known for the excellence of their results) and gone for a silent, morose ride to the north paddock.

Saturday evening had passed. The phone had rung twice, making both of them jump in their chairs and Ennis leap for the receiver. He was waiting equally, she knew, for a call from Jack or one from the Childress police informing him that Jack was dead or seriously injured.

Ennis wasn't sleeping very well. He looked drawn and weary, dark circles shadowing his eyes. Would it have killed Jack to take five minutes and call home? He knew Ennis's fears. Every moment that passed with no word was another moment for Ennis to picture him lying dead in a drainage ditch. Neither was the silence reassuring him that Jack wasn't losing his commitment to their relationship. They'd finally given up waiting as Saturday turned to Sunday, and as Ennis rose to go to bed, he'd said, half under his breath, "Well, I guess I know where I rate."

Liz sat at Ennis's side in the very last pew. He'd been greeted by many fellow congregants, all of whom had wondered where Jack was. Ennis would only say that Jack was attending to some family business, and his typically taciturn demeanor didn't encourage anyone to press him for details.

She didn't pay much attention to the service. She doubted Ennis heard a word of it. He stood and sat with everybody else, put his envelope in the collection plate, and mumbled something along with the liturgy, but Liz knew his mind was elsewhere.

Pastor Greenfield had reached the part of the service at which he asked the congregation to offer prayers for those among them hurt or ill. "Finally," he said, as his last request, "I'd ask you all to pray for our friend, Jack Twist." Liz felt a ripple go over the congregation, people turning to their neighbors and wondering what was up. "This morning I was informed that Jack's teenaged son died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound on Thursday evening. Please pray for Jack and his family, and for the soul of his departed son, may he find the peace that eluded him in life."

A number of people turned in their seats to look at Ennis, their faces full of sorrow and shock. Ennis kept his eyes lowered. As the service ended, he grabbed Liz's hand and hurried them out of the church. Several people rushed to offer him condolences. He nodded to them and acknowledged their words, but didn't stop to chat with anyone. Liz was practically running as he dragged her along. "Why the rush?" she said, as they climbed into the truch. "Those people…your friends, they just wanted to…"

"I know what they want, and it's nice 'o them, but I don't want to hear no sympathy jus' now. I knew that'd happen. S'why we sat in the back."

"If you didn't want sympathy, why did you tell the pastor?"

He just looked at her. "'Cause Jack would want me to. He draws comfort from them folks. No reason he shouldn't have it jus' 'cause he ain't here to see it."

Sunday crept along, second by second, minute by minute, with agonizing slowness. Surely the funeral would be over by now. What was keeping him? Liz would have thought that once the business of death was concluded, Jack would get back home as fast as humanly possible.

Explanations floated through her mind and were discarded or retained as merited. Maybe Lureen was in a bad way and Jack was staying to comfort her. That didn't seem too likely. They barely spoke, and she had her own husband for comfort. Maybe Jack was trying to find out more about why Bobby did what he'd done. That was possible. L.D. would probably want the whole thing swept under the rug, but Jack would want to know everything.

She knew damn well that all Ennis could think was that it was taking so long because Jack was dead, dead, dead and neither Lureen nor L.D. felt obligated to let him know about it.

What really didn't help was that news of Bobby's death had spread through town like a forest fire, and the goddamned phone would not stop ringing. Ennis dove for it every time, and every time he'd sag and get whatever sympathetic friend had called off the phone as soon as he could to get the line free again. Ennis began to regret (loudly, and with invective) his decision to tell the pastor, Jack's wishes be damned.

Evening fell. Liz and Ennis picked at leftover shepherd's pie from Friday night's dinner and drank more than their usual complement of beers. Happily, the flood of condolences had died down. Arlene Trimble had shown up with food, but Liz had quietly filled her in on the situation and she'd gone away quickly, squeezing Liz's arm with a nod of understanding.

The call came at about six thirty.

Just another jangling ring from the receiver on the side table, but they still jumped in their seats. Ennis glanced at her, then picked it up. "Hello?" He listened for a moment. He pressed the receiver briefly to his shoulder. He shut his eyes and let out a breath, then raised the phone again. "Jack." Liz moved quickly to the couch next to him. Ennis reached out blindly for her hand. "Thank God you're okay. I been…" He paused, then exhaled another big breath. "You're at the airport?" He met Liz's eyes, his own full of relief. If Jack was at the airport, there was no further danger from those damned tire irons. "Good, I'm real glad t'hear that." He hesitated. "How are you, bud? Did everythin' go okay?" Pause. "Y'okay, you tell me all about it when you get back. Yeah, I bet you're beat t'hell." He listened. "News? What kinda…yeah, it'll keep. You jus' get back's fast as you can." Ennis listened intently for a few moments. Liz could hear Jack's voice but not his words. "Me too, darlin'. Yeah. You kiddin'? I ain't goin' t'bed. No, I'll be waitin' when you get back, okay?" Another long pause. Ennis was nodding. "I know," he said, his voice a near-whisper. He sighed, his eyes falling closed again. "You come on home, baby," he murmured.

Liz averted her eyes, feeling like she'd just eavesdropped on a moment of rare and sacred intimacy. To hear Ennis call Jack "baby" in that low, private voice just made her painfully aware, yet again, of the lack of such intimacy in her own relationship. If Charlie ever called her that, he'd probably do it in a tone of voice that would make her want to knee him right in the groin.

Ennis hung up the receiver and sat there motionless for a moment. "He's at the airport?" Liz said, needlessly.

He blew air through his teeth, puffing out his cheeks. "Yeah, thank God. He's got a flight to Burlington in about an hour. That oughta put him back here 'afore midnight, maybe a little bit after."

"What'd he say?"

"He said that he's got some news. I think a whole lotta shit went down, but it sounded like he come out of it okay." He stood up and began walking in aimless circles. "Damn, now I'm…I cain't sit still!"

Liz grinned. "It's the relief."

"I feel like I gotta build somethin' or fix somethin' or…somethin'."

"Why don't you take a nap? You've hardly slept."

"Jack sounded exhausted."

"I bet he is, but you are, too."

"No, I am wired like a two-year-old. I cain't sleep." He ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm gonna go for a ride, okay?" His tone carried the strong implication that he'd be going alone.

Liz grinned. "You go ahead. I can finally relax and read my book now."

Ennis started to leave, then turned back. He hesitated, then came back to the couch and sat down at her side. "Lizzie, I oughta…" He cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. "You been a real friend t'me through this, and I…"

"You're welcome," she said.

He smiled gratefully. "Thanks."

Liz reached out and hugged him. She and Ennis had just been through something together, and all at once she felt so close to him that she felt she could almost read his thoughts. She kissed his cheek, then slapped his shoulder. "Go on, now. Get some air before you decide it's time to paint that damn barn again. And don't forget to shower…don't want Jack coming home to you smelling like cigarette smoke."

Ennis sat on the porch, waiting. It was just past midnight. Jack's flight had landed at eleven, which meant he ought to be pulling into the drive at any time.

His relief at Jack's safety was potent, but his uneasiness about his emotional state was equally so. Jack hadn't said anything on the phone, and his tone had not given Ennis any hints.

The night was cool and fresh. Ennis felt the same way. Guilt ate at him that he could be so relieved and content when poor Bobby was barely cold in his grave, but he couldn't help it. Jack was his priority. He'd barely known Bobby, and what he'd known of him hadn't inspired any fondness. It was a terrible thing he was dead, but he couldn't muster the emotional resources to mourn. Jack would mourn enough, and it'd be up to him to help him do that and come through to the other side. He didn't relish it. Ennis wasn't exactly a champion of emotional sensitivity. But he'd do it. He'd do whatever needed doing to help Jack.

He looked down at his left hand, surprising himself with the sudden wish, rising to his mind unbidden, that he had a ring, too. Something to point to, a talisman that could ward off all the things that seemed to want to tear it all apart. He'd told Lizzie earlier that he didn't know how to fight for Jack…but maybe he did, after all.

He heard the sound of tires on the drive, and then saw the glow of headlights. He stood up and went down the stairs to the dooryard as Jack's truck crested the ridge. Jack didn't even bother to park the truck in the garage. He just stopped in the middle of the dooryard and got out, hefting his bag onto his shoulder.

Ennis was frozen in place. How would Jack greet him? Would the guilt make him hesitate? Would he look at Ennis and see only the thing that had killed Bobby?

He saw Jack's expression in the greenish glow of the night-lights. It was controlled and rigid, what Ennis thought of as his "I'm dealing with it" face. He shut the truck's door and walked towards the house. Ennis watched him come, frowning. As he drew nearer, his steps quickened, and the "dealing with it" face began to collapse in on itself. Jack wasn't dealing with it anymore. He'd gotten to the place where he no longer had to.

About five steps away he let the bag fall to the ground. He didn't pause, he didn't speak; without even breaking his stride Jack walked right into his arms, throwing his own around Ennis's neck with a choked sob.

He clutched Jack to him, shutting his eyes against the crashing relief of just having him here, and not a moment too soon, by the looks of things. Jack was wracked with sobs that Ennis knew had not been allowed to escape until now. Jack would have rather poked hot branding irons through his eyes than show that kind of vulnerability in front of Lureen or L.D. He'd been saving it up, restraining his grief until he was back where it was safe.

"Shhh," Ennis murmured, rubbing his back. "It's okay, darlin'. You're home safe now."

Jack was unable to reply for several minutes. Ennis felt the wetness of Jack's tears on his shoulder and his damp, feverish cheek pressed against Ennis's neck, and he was grateful. "Ennis," Jack finally choked out. "I'm sorry, it's jus'…"

"You shush now. You don' gotta tell me nothin'. You go ahead 'n cry for your boy. God knows if'n anythin' happened t'Junior or Francie, I'd be a blubberin' blob on the floor."

Jack took a few deep breaths that rattled in his chest and his clogged throat. He drew back. "No, you wouldn't," he said, laying his hand on Ennis's face.

"You mightn't think so, but I surely would."

Jack shook his head. "No. You wouldn't be on the floor. I'd be holdin' you."

A/N:Okay, sappy ending. But I figured they earned it, just this once. And did anyone REALLY think I was going to kill Jack? Please.

But this isn't over (damn, it's hard not to write 'ain't' after finishing one of these chapters). The next chapter, which might be longer than normal, will describe Jack's trip to Texas in detail.

Also, please feel free to check out or friend my LiveJournal: madlori.