NOTE: If you read Chapter Five before March 5, 2006, I'd suggest going back and reading it again. I made a few slight changes, but they are vital, or else this chapter will make you very confused.
Title: What He Wants
Chapter Title: Life and Death
Author: Penguins Stealing My Sanity
Disclaimer: Blah blah blah, you know the drill
Summary: Jack faked his death, and now he's off to find Ennis and start their life together. But it's not always that simple…
Genre: Romance
Warnings: The usual.
Rating: R
Setting: The night after the night of Ennis's death.
-grumbles- Unappreciative little… I know most of you hate me for killing Ennis, but the story isn't over yet. Trust me. I've got some marvelous plot-twists up my sleeve. I have a habit of giving people what they want, and since the general populace seemed unhappy with my ending… I was unhappy that Chapter Five was so disliked, but I'm over it now. Difference in opinion. I liked it, some of you didn't. I'm fine with it.
Really.
-twitch-
Anyway, this'll have a happier ending, since that seems to be what you all want.
This chapter is not from Jack's POV; it will be done in third-person, something I haven't tried for quite some time. There will only be a faint Western twang in the narration because, frankly, I was starting to talk with a Western accent. Kind of embarrassing… Anyway, just go with me, here. I can guarantee you won't hate me nearly as much after you read this chapter. This will probably be the last chapter—for real this time.
Not a songfic; it got to be too much work trying to find good songs, and I just want to get this chapter done before you all kill me. This will be a shorter-ish chapter.
- What He Wants -
"Life and Death"
It was a small place and, late as the hour was, mostly empty. A man sat off in a corner of the bar, slouched over in his chair and snoring almost loud enough to drown out the music playing softly. At the bar, two men sat, far apart from each other. Neither had attempted conversation, nor did either of them desire it. One of the men sat muttering angrily to himself, his mug of beer untouched by his elbow as he held a heated conversation with people only he could see. The other man at the bar sat nursing his own mug of beer, one of the many he'd had over the course of the night, lost among his own thoughts.
"So, cowboy, you gonna tell me your story?" the barman asked, leaning on the counter near his silent customer.
The man turned bloodshot eyes up to him. "Huh?"
"You been here all night, just drinkin' and drinkin' and drinkin', and you ain't said a word but what you had to say to ask for more drink. Somethin's got you down, and I ain't got nothin' better to do than listen if you got somethin' you wanna say."
"I ain't really the talkin' type," the man muttered.
Barman shrugged. "Suit yourself." He walked over to his other customer to see if he could get the angry man to buy anything else.
From under the rim of his hat, Ennis Del Mar watched the barman walk away, and then he turned his eyes back down to amber liquid inside the mug held tightly between his hands. He was surprised when a small drop of water plopped into the beer. He quickly set the mug down on the counter and made a big show of coughing, so that he could rub the tears out of his eyes. Pull yourself together, damnit! he told himself silently. You did what you had to. If Jack hadn't been so fuckin' stubborn…he had it comin'. It was easier to just blame it all on Jack. Everything was Jack's fault. Ennis had just done the only thing he could.
He'd been trying to convince himself of it the whole night, but he still hadn't succeeded.
When he'd drove away from their ranch, he'd been so angry, he'd just wanted to do something that would hurt Jack as bad as Ennis had felt. The answer had seemed so simple: give Jack a taste of his own fucking medicine. When Ennis had gone to the sheriff, the man had been more than willing to help Ennis fake his own death (Ennis had learned later that the sheriff had no fondness for him and Jack, and was hoping that this ruse would get rid of both men). Ennis had helped with everything the sheriff had asked of him, and then he'd gone off to get drunk, to celebrate his freedom. His joy hadn't lasted for long, but by then it had been too late. So he sat here now, in some God-forsaken bar, guzzling down as much beer as he could in the hopes of drowning his sorrow.
So far, it wasn't working.
The man at the other end of the bar suddenly pounded his fist on the bar and leapt to his feet, racing from the room and shouting curses. Ennis and the barman stared after him in mild surprise and turned to look at each other for the briefest moment; then Ennis turned his eyes back to his beer, not wanting to attract the barman's attention again. After a little while, Ennis pushed himself shakily to his feet, drained the mug, and started stumbling towards the door.
"Where you goin'?" the barman called after him.
"Got places t' be," Ennis lied, words slightly slurred.
"You ain't in no condition to drive," The barman said with what seemed like genuine concern.
"Gon' go sleep it off in m' truck, then," said Ennis as he stumbled against the door. Since the sheriff had insisted on actually driving Ennis's truck into the river—"Just in case Mister Twist wants some proof," he'd said—but had kindly allowed Ennis to have a truck that was in far worse condition than his own had been. At least it still worked, for now. Ennis managed to make it into the back seat of his truck before he passed out.
The next day, Ennis decided it was time to take control of his "new" life. He drove down to Riverton, where he'd spent most of his adult life, and started looking for a job. (A.N.: Just pick a random, menial job.) But he didn't stay in Riverton more than a week—and even in that time, he wasn't really there, at least not all of him. Most of Ennis Del Mar was miles and miles away, back in a small, rather poorly built ranch house, next to a man with beautiful blue eyes and a willing smile. Ennis's heart and soul were with Jack.
His heart pounding with excitement and, admittedly, a little fear, Ennis drove as fast as he could to their ranch. But when he pulled down the drive, it was not Jack's truck parked in front of the house, and it was not Jack who came, scowling, onto the porch and demanded to know what Ennis wanted.
"Is—is Jack Twist here?"
"He don't live here no more," the man on the porch said gruffly, spitting down into the grass that clustered around the stairs.
"Do you know where he went?" Ennis wasn't sure how well he succeeded in hiding how crestfallen he was.
"Don't know, don't care. Get off my land."
A part of Ennis longed to thrash this rude man, but he restrained himself and climbed back into the truck, driving slowly away. Back out on the road and out of sight of the ranch house, he pulled the truck to a stop and leaned his forehead against the steering wheel. What now? Where would Jack go… Ennis didn't know the answer.
Desperate now, he drove into town and spoke to the glaring sheriff, who told Ennis that Jack had, at one point, said something about going up to his parents'; the information was given freely in the hopes that Ennis would leave if he was told everything he wanted to know. Hopeful again, Ennis all but raced out to his truck and drove off, hoping he still remembered where Jack's parents lived.
The truck gave out on him eventually, but Ennis was sure he was close. He left the truck sitting at the side of the road, and continued on foot, stopping only when it was absolutely necessary.
And he finally made it.
His feet numb and his heart in his throat, Ennis walked down the drive, eyes flickering every way possible. His eyes finally found Jack, near the old, rickety barn, forking hay into the back of his truck. Ennis's hopes soared, and he managed to quicken his step. The smaller man didn't even notice him until Ennis said softly, voice thick with emotion, "Jack…"
Beneath his jacket, Ennis saw all the muscles of Jack's arms and back tighten, and he turned very slowly. For a moment, they just stood staring at each other, Ennis feeling as if he were floating high above the ground. Jack showed no anger, no sadness, no happiness—no emotion at all, as far as Ennis could see, and it began to worry the man. Finally, Jack shook his head, a small, humorless smile curving the sensuous lips Ennis knew so well. "I shoulda fuckin' known," Jack said softly, still shaking his head. He turned away and scooped another forkful of hay into his truck, then leaned the pitchfork against the barn and looked back at Ennis. "So why'd you do it?"
"I don't know," Ennis said helplessly, miserably.
Jack nodded; it was the answer he'd expected. He turned back to the truck.
"You—you're not angry?" Ennis asked.
"Not really. I should be, but I ain't." He turned again to look at Ennis. "Whaddya want, Ennis? I got work to do, an' I ain't got any time to waste."
"What—what kinda work?" Ennis asked tentatively. "I could—"
"You didn't really think it was gonna be that fuckin' easy, did you?" Jack pulled his hat off, and Ennis saw more anger in the smaller man's eyes than he'd ever seen before. "You come here alive, and you think I'm just gonna run into your arms and forget everythin'? Did you really think it was gonna happen like that?" His piercing blue eyes met Ennis's miserable gaze, and Jack shook his head. "You did, didn't you? You thought I was gonna forgive everythin' soon as I saw you alive… Fuck you, Ennis. Fuck you. When I faked my death, I did it to get away from Lureen, to come be with you. You did it to get away from me. I ain't never gonna forgive that, Ennis. There isn't a thing in this world you could say to make me forgive you for what you did to me." There weren't any tears in Jack's eyes, which surprised Ennis; Jack had always been so emotional… "Just go, Ennis. Go away and leave me be." He turned away from Ennis—his first mistake.
Ennis had tried to suppress all his anger while Jack was talking, but it came roaring to the surface now. He grabbed the smaller man and spun him around, slamming Jack against his own truck and pinning him there, glaring fiercely into the slight man's eyes. "You didn't think it was gonna be that fuckin' easy, did you?" he mocked. "Ain't no chance I'm gonna leave it like this, Jack. I did somethin' stupid—I know it, and I wish I hadn't done it…but I did. Nothin' can change that. I hurt you, and I'm sorry for it—but that sure as fuckin' hell ain't gonna stop me. You're mine, Twist. Mine. And I ain't gonna let you go again."
The moment of palpable tension stretched between them a second more, and then snapped when Jack lurched forward and latched hungrily onto Ennis's lips, kissing him desperately before he collapsed against the taller man's chest, fingers knotting in Ennis's shirt. "I hate you, Ennis," he whispered, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill over. "I hate you so much."
"I know," Ennis said softly, gently stroking Jack's hair as he rested his head against the top of Jack's head. "I love you, too."
And they lived happily ever after.
There. Are you happy? No one died, and they're happy now... –mutters to self for a few moments more- Please note that the "happily ever after" is layered with sarcasm. As much sarcasm as you can manage.I, personally, LOVED the chapter five ending, and don't really care for this ending...but since I am dedicated to making all of you happy...
This might not be the end of the story. Who knows, maybe something else will occur to me, and I'll just keep adding more and more chapters… Right, anyway, hope you enjoyed—and am also hoping I'm no longer hated. Please?
:>
