This goes out to onefreetoroam, who reminded me that I'd been neglecting my duties here. I just watched the movie again, and it was exactly what I needed to get back into the swing of things. This is part one, I'm working on part two even as you read this, and it'll probably be long enough for a part three and four. So.

- Deeper Than Skin I-

Ennis drove down the road, praying his truck would get him all the way to his destination. The noises it was making weren't encouraging, and there was nowhere he could stop to get it fixed—not that he had the money to get it fixed anyway. If it would just keep going a little longer… "You get me there," he promised the truck, "I'll use any money I got to get you fixed." And he planned to get at least a little money from this venture—after all, anyone could rodeo, long as you could hold on.

Ennis had seen the poster just yesterday, advertising a rodeo near Lightning Flat with cash prizes. He needed money in a bad way, and as long as he could get to Lightning Flat in time to sign up…

But as luck would have it, the truck died a good twenty miles from Lightning Flat, and no amount of coaxing, begging, or cursing would get it started again. Grabbing his pack, he set off down the road, cursing the truck under his breath.

A few other trucks flew by; Ennis tried to motion them over, hoping to hitch a ride just a little closer to his destination, and a beat-up old truck finally swung over to the side of the road. A young man, no older than Ennis himself, leaned out the passenger side window and called, "Where you headed?"

"Lightning Flat," Ennis called back hopefully.

"I can get you there. Hop in." The man pushed the door open and Ennis hurried to the truck, climbing in and getting the door closed just before the man swung the truck back onto the road. They sat in silence, Ennis holding his pack tightly in his lap, until the man said, "Name's Jack Twist." He nearly tied his arms up in order to shake Ennis's hand and still keep one hand on the wheel.

"Ennis."

Jack glanced at his passenger from the corners of his eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Your folks just stop at Ennis?"

"Del Mar," Ennis mumbled. He'd never been much for conversations, especially not with strangers, even ones who seemed nice enough.

"What's got you goin' up to Lightning Flat?"

"Rodeo."

Jack grinned. "Small world, that's where I'm goin'. Startin' to think I shouldn't a picked you up: now I'll have more competition."

Ennis gave a noncommittal shrug. "Ain't rodeoed much. Just need the money."

Jack Twist nodded wisely. "Times are tough. What d'you ride?"

Ennis shrugged again. "Broncs…"

"I've always liked the bulls, myself, though they can be damn nasty sometimes…"

Jack kept up a constant flow, only occasionally pausing to breathe or to think of another topic; he didn't seem to expect more than monosyllabic answers from Ennis, which was all he got. By the time they reached the rodeo, Ennis's ears ached and he was grinding his teeth together. This was more companionship than he'd had in the past two years put together, and it was making him a little twitchy. But Jack didn't seem inclined to leave Ennis yet, showing the quiet man where to sign up, where to take his things, where to get ready…and talking throughout all of it. Ennis was sure he would be relieved when Jack had to go for his ride, vowed that he would slip away and hide somewhere so Jack wouldn't find him… But when Jack's name was called, and he hurried away, Ennis felt a pang of…sadness? Loneliness? He wasn't sure what it was, but it caused a strange feeling in his stomach, and the urge to hide from Jack was suddenly gone. Unused to this strange emotion—really, unused to any kind of strong emotion at all—Ennis sat where Jack had left him, and waited.

Jack came back, eyes bright with a grin cleaving his face, and plopped back down next to Ennis. "Nine fuckin' seconds!" he crowed, nearly bouncing with excitement. "Like to see someone beat that! Ain't nobody gonna do it, I won for fuckin' sure—shit, just called your name, better get goin'—"

Ennis's ride could not be thought of as a success: three measly seconds, with the leader already having stayed on twice that long, and many more still to come. Head hung, hands shoved deep into his pockets, Ennis resigned himself to staying broke but decided that he had enough for a drink or two…

It was about an hour later that Jack found him slouched at the bar, half a dozen beer bottles around him. Brow furrowed, the thrill of triumph fading, Jack sat down next to Ennis, who looked at him with bleary, bloodshot eyes. "You win?" Ennis slurred.

"Yeah. I…was gonna buy you a drink, but it don't look like you need anymore…" He paused. "Got a little worried when you didn't come back…"

Ennis shrugged. "Knew I wasn't gonna win. No point hangin' 'round."

"Yeah, I guess. Listen…you need a place to stay the night, my folks live near here, could make up a bed for you…" When Ennis turned to look at him, Jack wondered if he'd crossed a line…but Ennis just stared at him blankly. Jack hurried to explain: "You said you didn't have much money, I could save you havin' to pay for a place to stay…my folks won't mind, my momma's takin' in strays all the time, has a room ready for whoever might turn up on the porch…" Jack knew he was babbling, but it was what he did when he was nervous. With his thoughts as much of a turmoil as they were, it was no wonder he just said whatever popped out of the confusion. He finally convinced himself to stop talking and turned away from Ennis, hunching his shoulders and pulling his hat farther down over his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment. Ennis remained silent.

Well, dumbass, what'd you expect? Hardly even know him… He motioned for a beer, and gave it all his concentration, refusing to look at Ennis. But when a few minutes had passed, and there was still no response, Jack glanced over…and saw Ennis slouched in his chair, most certainly asleep. Frowning, Jack poked Ennis's shoulder, then shook him a little…shook him a little harder… Ennis was out cold.

With the help of a kind stranger, Jack managed to half carry, half drag Ennis to his car and maneuvered the unconscious man into the passenger seat. Jack decided that, if Ennis had been sober or conscious, he would have accepted Jack's invitation; the thought encouraging him, Jack turned the truck towards his parents' house.


Ennis woke up in a strange bed with an aching head, and looked around himself in utter confusion. The room was small, sparsely decorated, and holding only a bed with a chest at the foot and a small table against the opposite wall. To Ennis's right was the door, to the left a small window. Slowly, Ennis swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose unsteadily to his feet; pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes, wove his way to the window and leaned heavily on the sill. Barren plain stretched all around, broken only by the line of the road that wound its way drunkenly to either horizon. Nearer, a dirt driveway led ultimately to the house Ennis was in, with an old barn off to the side; a familiar truck was parked next to the barn.

Jack? Ennis thought fuzzily. What…?

Pressing his hands to his eyes again, Ennis tried to remember what had happened after he'd gotten good and drunk…but memories were fuzzy after the fourth beer. "Need to…find out…" he mumbled aloud. He'd been doing that a lot, lately: talking to himself. Ever since leaving his brother and sister, he'd had no one to talk to, and even though Ennis had never had much to say, and least he'd had people he could talk to. But being alone, he'd only had himself.

Ennis shook his head, hoping that would clear his mind; grabbed his hat from the table and shoved it down onto his head, pulled the door open, buried his hand in his pockets, and walked slowly down the hallway.

He found himself standing in the doorway of a kitchen—a very, very white kitchen—facing the woman seated at the kitchen table. She blinked at him in surprise, then gave a gentle smile. "Mornin'," she said. "Can I get you some coffee?"

"Uh…don't mean t'be rude but…where am I?"

The smile didn't fade from the woman's lips. "Of course. Jack said you'd had a little too much to drink…I'm Jack's mother, and this is my house. Jack's out with his father, fixin' the back fence; you come sit down, I'll get you somethin' to eat and drink."

Ennis wasn't in the habit of refusing a command like that, and he was ravenously hungry; his mouth felt like a squirrel had crawled into it and died there. Mrs. Twist was a fine cook, and kind enough to let Ennis eat in silence. "You look like you haven't had a good meal in days," she commented as she gave him a second serving of eggs and bacon without Ennis even asking.

"Been a little short on cash," Ennis muttered, eyes and attention fixed on the food.

"Can't think of anythin' else that would make a sensible man turn to rodeo. You got any place to go, Ennis Del Mar?"

Ennis shrugged, forking eggs into his mouth, and finally shook his head slightly.

"Well then, I've got a proposition for you. Jack's plannin' on stayin' here a few weeks, to help his daddy out with fixin' this place up; you can stay here, too, help them out—ain't no way just the two a them alone can get done all the work that needs doin', and they'd sure appreciate help." Ennis stared at her, his jaw hanging a little. Then his cheeks took on a red tinge and he ducked his head; he seemed about to protest when Mrs. Twist said, "I won't take no for an answer 'less you can give me a good reason." Her eyes narrowed a little. "Jack did you a kindness, takin' care a you last night, seein' to it that you didn't get thrown out on the road. I think you owe him for that, at least."

She was a wise woman, and knew just the words to summon Ennis's sense of honor and duty. His back straightened ever so slightly, and he glanced at her for a moment. "I thank you for your kindness, ma'am. I'll—I'll stay, if you're sure…"

She smiled. "Oh, I am. You seem a strong young man, very capable. I'm sure John and I won't regret havin' you, an' it'll do Jack good to have a friend around. If you're done eating, you can go out an' help them now—out the back door and straight on, you can't miss 'em."

Jack and his father were working diligently on a fence that very badly needed repairs; Jack welcomed Ennis with a grin, the father with narrowed eyes and a skeptic snort, and gruffly told Ennis to get started. Jack suggested Ennis come hold the boards in place so Jack could nail them in place; shying away from John Twist, Ennis was happy enough to help Jack. The fence was long beyond long, and it seemed as if there was a solid, unrotted board along the whole length, and each one had to be replaced. It wasn't especially grueling work, since Ennis spent most of the time holding boards in place, but the sun was at its peak, and the three men had soon stripped their shirts off. Ennis was very conscious of how scrawny and bony he appeared compared to the other two, and spoke even less. Not that it mattered—Jack did enough talking for five men.

They returned to the house at noon for lunch; Mrs. Twist took one look at them and ordered them all to change into clean clothes, telling Jack to find something that would fit Ennis. Jack's room was on the second floor, up a narrow flight of rickety stairs; his room was only a little larger than the one Ennis had woken up in. He dug through the small closet and finally emerged with clothes he thought might fit Ennis. "Pants might be a little short, since you're taller'n me, but it should do for now." That said, he unselfconsciously pulled off his own clothes and changed into the new ones. Ennis turned his back and changed with a much greater amount of self-consciousness.

They went straight back to the fence after lunch, and worked on it until it became too dark to see. Jack assured Ennis that they'd have it finished by noon tomorrow.

The rest of the week passed in a series of repairs, most of which John Twist oversaw but did not actually help with. The actual labor was left largely to Jack and Ennis, though neither of the young men complained—Jack because he was used to it, Ennis because he was determined to deserve the kindness these people were showing him.

On Sunday morning, though, the routine changed. When Ennis entered the kitchen, John Twist gruffly asked, "You a church-goer, boy?"

"No, sir. Ain't never had the time for it."

Mr. Twist turned a superior look to his wife, which she returned with an ice-cold glare. "It's still the Lord's day," she said firmly. "Boys've been workin' all week. They deserve a rest."

Ennis felt as if he were intruding, and was unsure if he should retreat back to his room or remain and pretend as if nothing were happening…but Jack, galumphing loudly down the stairs, saved him from having to decide. Jack stopped next to Ennis, looked from his mother to his father, and asked warily, "What's goin' on?"

Mrs. Twist spoke before her husband could: "You boys can have the day to do as you please. The work's been put off this long already, another day of waitin' won't do any damage."

Jack's eyes lit up, and a grin creased his face; without a word, he streaked back upstairs, was gone a few moments only; he held a bulging pack in his hands when he returned, and he grabbed Ennis's arm and dragged the man out the front door. Outside, Jack informed Ennis he was going to show his guest to a place he called the high meadow. Ennis allowed himself to be dragged into the barn before he pulled his arm free of Jack's fingers.

The Twists owned three horses: a docile old gelding, a sway-backed mare, and a sprightly young filly that Jack claimed was his. Ennis, noting the way the old mare eyed him, chose to ride the gelding. They went without saddles, for Jack said it was only a short ride, and he held the pack carefully in his lap. As always, Jack talked almost constantly, pointing out places of former mischief and telling stories that Ennis guessed were only half true. It was a comfortable ride, and Ennis felt more at-ease than he had in a very long time.

The high meadow did not appear to Ennis to have a higher elevation than the farmhouse, but it was indeed a meadow, and a rather picturesque one. A good-sized lake, fed by a gurgling stream, whispered to one side of the meadow, and was surrounded on all sides by long grasses and flowers of every variety Ennis had ever seen, and quite a few he'd never seen. They let the horses graze (Jack insisted they wouldn't run off, though Ennis was dubious) and Jack towed his pack and Ennis to the side of the lake, where he sprawled onto the ground and pulled from the pack a flask of whiskey. Ennis, eyebrows raised, lowered himself down next to Jack and said, "Ain't even had anything to eat yet." Jack grinned, and pulled and apple from the pack, tossing it to Ennis and taking another for himself. Ennis shook his head a little, but there was the faintest trace of a smile on his lips.

They talked, passing the whiskey back and forth, Ennis giving his usual short answers, but at least he was talking. Jack questioned Ennis as to his past, and received the shortest answer possible: his parents had left a while back, and Ennis had been raised by his older brother and sister. They'd both married and moved away, and Ennis had left to find a job. He hadn't found any job he'd been able to keep for more than a few weeks at a time and, desperate, had hoped to win some money at the rodeo. It was the most Jack had heard Ennis say at one time.

It became very warm very fast, and Jack suggested a swim. They stripped their clothes off and plunged into the surprisingly deep water; Jack, in a mood that was even more squirrelly than usual, jumped on Ennis and began a short-lived wrestling match that resulted in Jack's repetitive dunking.

"It's just 'cause you're bigger'n me," Jack proclaimed after he had surrendered and was a safe distance away from Ennis.

"I ain't that much bigger," Ennis protested modestly, though he was very pleased he'd bested Jack. "And you got more muscle than I do."

"I wouldn't say that," Jack said thoughtfully, head tilted a little to one side. "Your muscles are jus' stringier'n mine are. You're lean, that's what y'are. But you're least as strong as I am."

Ennis came as close as he ever had to beaming, and his mouth turned distinctively up at the corners. It was the first real smile Jack had ever seen from him, and Jack's own face stretched into a broad grin. Still grinning like a child who's just been given a fistful of money, Jack took a slow drink of whiskey, looking over at Ennis out of the corners of his eyes.