A/N: I found this relationship so compelling. The film was phenomenal (and should have won Best Picture), and I'm hopelessly in love with everything it had to offer.
As far as this story goes, it's a strange little scene I dreamed up. 'Nuff said.
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Ennis reckoned that the world had turned topsy-turvy. The air smelled different, of fresh rainwater spilling from the heavens in buckets and crashing down on trees and mountain passes and the raging river winding through the lower valley like a massive snake. The morning sky looked like buttermilk, its heavy clouds drooping with the promise of more rainfall. Ennis felt compelled to breathe in the wilderness but what filled his senses was musk and sweat and cat piss. He could hear the horses whinnying and stamping their hooves, the fire crackling in the makeshift pit a few paces from the tent. Ennis ignored the horses and formidable clouds and added more wood to the dwindling flame.
He was opening a second can of beans when Jack stumbled through the opening of the tent. Ennis secured his hat and grunted a response to Jack's half-hearted "g'morning".
"I ain't eatin' outta a can no more," Jack said, sitting next to Ennis and stretching his legs languidly. He wrinkled his nose at the cooking beans. "If it ain't alive half hour afore I ate it, 's no good."
"Yer too picky," Ennis scolded. "'It's all we got. If you don' wanna starve I'd suggest you scarf it down."
Jack grinned. "Can do, cowboy. Say, what've we got on the agenda today?"
Ennis shrugged. "Movin' the sheep, guardin' the sheep, same as yesterday. Same as tomorrow."
Jack scrutinized his expressions; Ennis shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. His neck flushed and he felt heat rush to the end of his fingertips.
"Listen," Jack started quietly.
Ennis raised his head. Jack's eyes were beseeching.
"I don' know what to do. You don' know what to do. We're in the same boat."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
It came out irritable, but Ennis was anything but.
"We should get a place. Just me and you, fix 'er up. There's nothin' else."
Ennis felt his heart contract; he poked lifelessly at the boiling beans. "We ain't gonna make it in the real world."
Jack looked stung, as though Ennis had slapped him.
"It just won' work. The real world ain't like this."
Jack pushed himself up with an audible "shit", and walked a few paces from the fire.
Ennis called, "Look, Jack, there's nothin' we can do 'bout it –"
He turned around and his eyes were blazing. "Nothin' we can do? Fuck the real world! Look at what we are, and tell me we ain't people too. Tell me I ain't got no right to walk on the same dirt as everyone else, 'cause I swear, Ennis, what we got – it's the goddamn truth. The goddamn fucking truth."
"Don' stand there and tell me somethin' I already know," Ennis replied, his voice unusually ominous.
"Chrissake," Jack hissed under his breath. Ennis cast his eyes low.
"It ain't gonna fit like a puzzle, Jack," Ennis said gently after a bitter silence. Jack swigged some more whiskey as if it were life-sustaining. "Yer not considerin' the half of it – me and Alma, I got myself a family to start providin' for. You don' know."
To Ennis's surprise, Jack began to laugh. He laughed until his sides were in stitches and his eyes leaking tears. "Hell!" he whooped, sauntering nearer to the fire. "If I'da known you was a good Christian husband, I woulda been less obliging." He leaned forward until Ennis could smell the pungent stench of whiskey on his breath. "C'mon, cowboy, you know you wanna fuck me again."
Ennis grabbed his collar savagely. "You jus' shut yer trap, y'hear?"
"I don' know why yer getting' all hot and bothered," Jack replied nonchalantly, "when you already know what's gonna happen."
Ennis shoved Jack fiercely, but he just laughed harder.
"Oh, Ennis, fuck me – please fuck me –"
Like the crack of a whip, his fist connected with Jack's jaw; he doubled over, coughing blood. Ennis felt his fury wash over him like rain.
And then he walked away.
