Disclaimer: These are not my characters and I make no money off of them.

Thank you to my betas for this chapter, Max and Sheera.

Chapter 2: The Lark Song

The wind woke him, flying wild from the northwest, full of November cold, and something else-the promise of rain. Jack shivered, and only then did he register-and recognize, sweet Jesus, like it was his own self-the warm naked body burrowed up next to his. If Jack had tol' anyone that Ennis del Mar "burrowed" after sex, they wouldn'a believed it in a million years, but in his sleep that man regained a measure of whatever had been stolen from him when he was just a kid. Probably not never with Alma though, or that waitress. Jack blinked his eyes open more fully, wishing the wind would stop blowin' him cold.

The cold didn't wake Ennis, and Jack liked the look of that sleeping man too much to wake him himself, despite the shivering in Jack's bones. Jack sat up, then held that moment a little while, not even moving. Somewhere a eagle sound pierced the lazy noontide in the dry early winter grasses, and Ennis's eyes bolted open like he'd been shot with lightening. Jack would a liked a shoot that eagle just then, too, but what was done was done.

"Hey, there, cowboy. What's doin'?"

Ennis rose to sit next to Jack, then reached for his pants, shivering a little. Jack saw he felt the cold when he was awake, that's for sure, but not like Jack felt it. Jack was from Texas, where cold never settled into your bones like mountaintop Wyoming November cold liked to. He reached for his own clothes.

"Gonna rain," Ennis noted, feeling that same thing in the air Jack had.

"Yup." A frown worked its way across Jack's face as he realized how the rest of the week would go. His conscience, such as it was, wasn't gonna let him put stuff off forever, and best ta get it over with soon.

The horses had strayed a little ways away, abandoned by their riders, finding the dry grass delicious. Ennis, zipped, was wandering over to collect them. Jack could hear Ennis lecturing them as they pulled against him for the grass. Ennis brought them back over, handing Rufus' reins to Jack.

"You, uh, want me to uh..."

"Nah, I'm fine. Got me some rest." Jack couldn't understand why he was breathless all of a sudden.

Jack mounted with some difficulty, but not too conspicuously, and was feeling a mite better about the week already. Still had some things ta get off his chest, though.

They were almost back to where the little rocks jutted out of the dry trail when Jack found his voice. "Friend, I gotta tell you some things 'bout Mexico." It came out sounding angry. Not what he meant. He wondered if maybe he was speakin' too sudden, hadn't thought this through, but he wanted ta get this over with, get through the storm he knew was comin'.

"Don't wanna hear 'em Jack." It was a warnin'.

Jack recalled with a tremor of fear Ennis's words from the spring. "All them things I don't know... might get you killed if I should come to know them." The words had haunted Jack. More than he liked ta admit. He knew Ennis wasn't a softy, had no love for queers, "boys like you" he had spat at Jack that day. He knew Ennis. But Ennis hadn't hurt him once since that sucker punch in nineteen sixty three. Not physically, anyway.

Could Ennis do it? Then again, wasn't that death, by Ennis's hand, a sight better than whatever might be waiting for him in a hospital in Texas? Just like throwing himself off a that overlook, a glorious flash of death in homage to Brokeback... that Ennis would spend the rest of his life hating himself for. Jack didn't want ta do that to him.

Well, not too badly, anyway. Part of Jack was mad as a bull with his balls in a vice over those words of Ennis's. He wanted to test them, to make Ennis back down, to make Ennis face truths like a man. It was from that part of him the next words came. He couldn't have stopped them if he'd wanted to, and he didn't want to.

"Well, fuck you, Ennis. You wanna kill me for sayin' 'em, don't fuckin' matter much to me. Doc says I'm gonna kick it anyways. Ain't gonna pretend 'round you no more. Not 'round you. I'm queer as the day is fuckin' long, an' you don't like it, you best keep yer dick outta my ass."

Ennis looked frozen in his saddle, his horse's steps slowing. Jack fired the words like bullets. Felt the satisfaction of seeing them land, sink into flesh. He wanted more.

"Went down there seven, maybe eight times. Get shitfaced then pay some tall Mexican ta try and stab me in the heart through my ass. You oughta know, though, didn't none a them do it proper. Not like you. You fuckin' manage to get me right in the heart without even tryin'." Jack was blindly raging with his words now, no sense of what Ennis was up to, but wanting to hurt that man more than anything.

"But that ain't the half of it. That foreman's wife I tol' you 'bout? Was the fuckin' foreman himself I was being fucked by. Try that one on for size, Ennis. Three years. Got feelin's for him too, strong feelin's. You kill me for those while you're at it. Ain't never hurt me, neither. Doesn't threaten to kill me. And here I am in fuckin' Wyoming. Why the fuck am I here anyways?"

The anger had suddenly run too deep in Jack. He'd started out to hurt Ennis, but now he was hurting, too. He pushed Rufus to a trot, leaving Ennis somewhere back behind. He didn't feel any tears, just red hot anger. Dismounting, feelin' powerful of a sudden, he kicked a log, and again, wanting everything around him to hurt and hurt, like he hurt.

By the time Ennis arrived back in camp, red faced and leading his horse, Jack had packed his bags and was rolling the tent. He didn't expect Ennis would want to spend the rest of the week with him anyway. Jack was plannin' on heading up ta Lightening Flat early, heading back ta Texas early. Maybe they could even squeeze in an early surgery. Everything early except the one thing he wanted, and that was nearly too late ta matter. Or maybe it was all just too late. The rain was already startin' ta fall.

Jack looked up to see Ennis's face unreadable, but it didn't stay that way, cold and distant. Ennis closed the space between them quickly. He shoved Jack backwards hard. Jack was still reeling with surprise when he felt his back hit a tree. Ennis's arm swung out, gripping Jack close enough to his windpipe to choke the air of out of him. It was all happening too quickly for Jack to react, or even to think. Ennis was gripping his shoulders, shoving him up against the tree again, bruising flesh and rattlin' bones. Ennis lifted Jack away from the tree and slammed him back into it, grunting almost to a howl beneath his breath, rasping, "fucking faggot." Jack wasn't sure who Ennis was talking to.

For a split second Jack wondered if Ennis might just kill him, but it didn't last. The rain drops were falling hard on the camp site now, and Ennis's mind caught up with his fists. His bruising grip got even harder, grinding into bones, hips grinding against Jack, feelin' the need of another bone. A sound that could have scared the devil himself, but full of regret, blew from Ennis's lips, and the moment of anger and fear collapsed away. Ennis was left sobbing hot tears onto Jack's damp and bruised shoulder, using that shoulder to hold himself up. Jack couldn't help it, raised a hand into that hair, made a shushing noise and held him close. In many ways Ennis was still such a scared little boy, and Jack felt something break inside knowing he kept doing this ta Ennis, same time Ennis kept hurtin' him, too. Should both be better men than that. He stopped his thoughts before they went too far and rocked Ennis just a little bit.

"Shush, Ennis, it'll be alright. Come on. Help me put the tent back up. Awright?"

Ennis stood, backed away from Jack, pushing Jack away from himself, back against the tree. Jack let himself be pushed, because Ennis headed straight to the half-rolled tent and set about unrolling. Fat, cold raindrops were falling from the sky. Smaller, hot ones were still boiling out of Ennis's eyes. But Jack knew better than to speak to him or touch him, better than to draw attention to those tears. Ennis was a man as needed time inside himself. They worked side-by-side. Old ritual, camp-making.

Thunder was crackin' behind the rain, late too, in its own way. Maybe the distance Jack and Ennis had kept all these years translated into thunder being twenty years' late.

There was no other refuge 'asides the sopping-wet newly-erected tent, else Jack was sure Ennis woulda taken it. Instead they both dove in, with their already-wet belongings. Jack sat quiet on one side, Ennis on the other. The space between them might as well been fifteen miles rather then ten feet, 'cause Ennis was sure in his own little world. They sat that way, Jack almos' afraid to move, for the better part a half an hour, jus' listening to the rain.

"Aint' workin'," Ennis said softly of a sudden, almost to himself, and Jack's stomach jumped at the sound of something other than thunder and rain.

"What ain't workin?" Jack's voice sounded skeptical, even to his own ears. He wasn't sure if Ennis meant somethin' simple, like maybe the tent, or somethin' more complicated.

"This, I mean," Ennis was gazing out the tent door, shielded now as it was by the rain fly. He was sitting clumsily cross-legged and picking at his jeans absent-mindedly. "I mean, this spring?" His gaze shifted meaningfully to Jack. "An' now t'day." The brown eyes flicked too-quickly back to the door.

Jack felt a frown etch its way onto his face. Wanted ta yell at Ennis ta stop talkin'. Felt like Ennis was prepairin' to throw him off a high ledge with no parachute, just at a time when Jack needed him most. Jack hoped he'd mistaken Ennis's meanin'. Maybe he did have a parachute, though. Had Randall. Not sure that was the same thing, but what mattered was, did Ennis think it was? Jack didn't speak. Couldn't even begin to fathom where Ennis was goin' or what ta say back. But Ennis kept goin' regardless.

"I guess... felt for a while like everythin' was alright, 'til this spring. But now..." He pinned Jack with his eyes again. "Three years? Christ." Eyes back to the door. "See it weren't workin' for a while. Years. Shit. Just glad I knowed. Don't aim ta know more."

"Well, I am sorry Ennis, but I got a need ta tell more."

"Understand that, Jack. Just hush up, will ya? Tryin' a think here."

Silence stretched on, and Jack was afraid he'd broken whatever magical spell was bringin' singin' words to Ennis' lips, Jack still waiting to hear if it was the song a th'owl or the lark. Frustration and impatience had him by the balls.

"I guess I gotta keep it, you know? Do anything." His eyes flicked back to Jack's again, but not long enough to see anything. "Jack? Swear ta God, was plannin' on fixin' this when I knowed 'bout Mexico."

Fuckin' lark. "Yeah, and how were ya planning ta do that, friend?" Singing at the wrong time. Jack found the coincidence a little hard to bear.

"Don' know. Junior went offa child support. Franny? Goes off soon. Thought maybe I could save up. Rent a place, maybe more often or something." Ennis was shaking, fishing in a wet pack of cigarettes. Finding one dry enough to suit his needs, he lit it, shaking like a leaf.

"Well, fuck me. Some kinda timin' you have, del Mar. Your idea of a fix is jus' a mattress under your delusional ass?"

"Christ, Jack," Ennis voice squeezed out, voice tight. He screwed his eyes shut, and started vibratin' all over, clear 'nough ta see. And Ennis was usually the solid one. Jack felt the tremors starting in his own hands.

Ennis was soon swipin' at his eyes with the backs a his hands, lettin' cigarette ash fall to canvas unnoticed. When he spoke again, sobs were clearly on the edge of his voice. Desperation was leakin' out all over it. "Christ! I was gonna... we coulda' talked. Maybe. Jus' tryin' a do what I can ta fix it." Even his voice was shaking. He took a long drag.

Jack felt his insides turn to jello, anger, rage, disappointment, love, fear, emotions he didn't even recognize, all mixing. Somehow his voice still sounded hard and cold, though, when he said, "Can't fix none a that now, Ennis."

"Fuck, I know!" Ennis's anger burst out through his desperation. He stood, cigarette gripped in his fingers, and stormed out of the tent. Was still raining, but only a drizzle.

Jack waited for the rainfall ta stop completely before following Ennis outside. Ennis was staring into the dead fire, eyes unseeing. Jack slipped up behind him to touch his arm. Like an instinct, Ennis pulled Jack in close n' tight, right how it felt best to Jack. Jack nearly felt, rather than heard, Ennis whisper into his hair. "Christ, I'm scared, Jack."

Jack pulled him tighter, voice firm, sayin', "Me too, Ennis." The last thing Jack wanted ta hear was that Ennis was scared. Wished he could hit Ennis for sayin' that, but that was just hypocrisy. Randall'd said it too. No one to be strong but him, and he was scared shitless, but that was how life had ended up. All so fucking scared. He hated the emotion. It tasted bitter in his mouth. Knew Ennis must feel the same about that, though Ennis had probably grown accustomed.

They stood that way a long time, gripping each other face-to-face while the air grew cold beyond bearing, though Jack didn't hardly notice that. His face was warm against Ennis's shoulder, the smell of Ennis everywhere down into his soul, and Jack thought maybe he'd never been so close ta home.

Ennis was the first to pull back. And goddamn, he was smiling. Just a little shy smile, swiped a thumb across Jack's cheek to say, "Darlin', you could catch a cold out here. Change inta some dry clothes, I'll make a fire."

Jack thought a fire sounded like heaven itself. His stomach jumped ahead to think about dinner and hole-fillin'. But even dizzy with the future, Jack held onta the present a second longer, knowin' that, if his doctor had anything ta say about it, the present was really all he had ta bank on anymore. Ennis was turnin' away, but Jack held his face firm between his hands. Ennis's eyes avoided his for a second, that hard, thin body twitching with impatience, but found them eventually.

"Listen a me, Ennis," Jack took in a deep breath. It seemed ta shutter in his lungs. "Wouldn't go nowhere without a fight. I'm scared, too, friend, but it'll all work out. Has to." Jack said it with a certainty he felt, honest-to-God. Wouldn't lie to Ennis now.

Ennis nodded, jawline tight, eyes wincing closed. He patted Jack once on the shoulder and turned to leave Jack's grasp.

Jack had a dizzying feeling about that leavin', wanted Ennis back immediately, but instead went into the tent to change. Twilight was already thick around the unlit fire.

Dinner was steak tonight, and Jack made it like always, three little plastic spice-jars, brought from home, bought by Lureen. It came off the Hibachi medium-well. Jack had the foresight to slice up some onions, wrap them in foil, and put them over the campfire, so they ate the steak with onion. Jack felt he'd learned a thing or two 'bout cookin' livin' so many years with Lureen.

It grew ta some sort of secret shared across steak, silent and brooding, still a baby elephant, but white as first snow. Jack's mind was tryin' ta accept the word and reject it at the same time. Cancer. Sayin' it to Ennis had made it more of a real thing than he wanted, though still felt like it was happenin' ta someone else. He felt stronger already, adrenaline and Ennis raisin' him up, and he knew he wasn't dyin' yet.

But Jack had an itchy feelin' from hearin' Ennis sing that lark's song. Lots of thoughts were broilin'. He didn't wanna think that Ennis had made it up, now that it couldn't happen-- didn't want to, but couldn't help it. Even if Ennis announced that he wanted a fly ta South America this very night with Jack and never return, Jack couldn' a gone. Had his mama ta tell, and surgery the week after. And who knows what after that. And all Ennis had really offered was a cabin, like he hadn't been able ta get this week, or maybe couple more weeks a year than he was doin' now. The low ante made Jack furious, too, but it was an old anger, one that had grown accustomed to bein' ignored.

But that wasn't the secret at all. Fear worked itself up into a common bond they shared. When silence stretched between them, both chewed on what the other was thinkin', wonderin' whose bite was more rare, less seasoned. But in reality it was just one more unspoken thing between them ta put on top a all the others.

It grew, though, in the way those sorts a things have a tendency ta do.

Sunday night after steak, Jack chatted Ennis up like usual. Didn't matter what topic, Ennis always seemed happy jus' ta be hearin' his voice. Jack's mind wanderin', he talked about a silly awards dinner Lureen had drug him to. He made fun a the women, all with their big hair, whole room smelled like hairspray, all congratulatin' themselves on bein' better'n their husbands. Bunch a husbands staring bored into their fancy salads that were so bitter you couldn't eat 'em. That took Jack off on a fancy-salads rant, which broadened into a general fancy-foods rant, and from there into full-fledged libel of all things fancy, and from there back to Lureen's hair. Ennis sat across the fire. Jack got the impression he wasn't listenin' ta every word, but he was hearin' Jack, as usual. Jack knew it was just the harmonica-- his voice makin' noise. That was what Ennis wanted a fill his evenin' with, didn't need conversation. A warm blossom spread across Jack's chest as he ran out of fancy-rants and silence fell across the cracklin' flames.

Jack loved ta talk ta Ennis. Lureen would interject 'bout how he wasn't makin' sense, or how he was turnin' cynical in his old age. Sometimes she would smile that bright smile a hers, and clack her tongue, an' mutter, "Jack Twist, yer a fool." Ennis never passed a cent a judgment on what Jack said. He could open his mouth and just let whatever he felt like come out, and that was a freein' feeling after being 'round LD all the time and havin' ta watch every goddamn word.

But even Jack recognized that thought for a lie. He could talk 'bout whatever he wanted as long as it wadn't important. There were a whole heap a topics he couldn't talk about in front a Ennis, lot of them he felt like he needed ta talk to someone about, and it wasn't like he had anyone else.

Jack imagined it for a moment-- what it would be like ta talk to Ennis 'bout the things really on his mind, 'bout the man at the grocery store couple months ago who hissed "cocksucker" in his ear and made Jack wonder if all a Childress knew. He'd told Ennis everythin' was fine, no one knew, and in one breath fat Ed McGrady proved him wrong. 'Bout the fact that LaShawn might be pregnant and Randall still wanted ta leave her for Jack, and Jack hadn't known how ta tell him it wasn't gonna be like that without soundin' like Ennis. 'Bout how part a Jack was alright with soundin' like Ennis jus' ta remind himself a Ennis. Jack didn't love Randall like that-- jus' as friends. And hearin' his own voice say, "it ain't gonna be like that" at Randall, Jack felt a stab of fear that maybe Ennis felt on him like he felt on Randall. Bein' here with Ennis, Jack couldn't conjure that fear from any part of his soul. One look at that man's eyes and couldn't be no doubt. But miles an' miles away in Texas, in the middle a the night, hearin' Ennis's words leave his mouth towards Randall, it had existed, sure enough. 'Bout how he and Lureen were fightin' 'cause Lureen didn't wanna subject Bobby ta the sight of his father dyin', and Jack didn't think Lureen had a right ta take his son away when he might not get a chance at see him again. And here he was babblin' on 'bout lettuce. All he had left was the present, so Jack dove in and tested unknown waters, momentarily thrilled that after twenty years there were still unknown waters ta test.

"Randall-- tha's the foreman-- his wife, LaShawn? She's pregnant." The words dropped out heavy, and Jack silently bit his tongue.

"Randall ever talk 'bout makin' a life w'you?"

Jack exhaled hard. "Yup."

"Cassie-- that waitress-- she used ta do that."

"Yeah? You gonna marry her?"

Ennis shook his head just enough, a sound in his throat like a word, like a no, but it never left his mouth.

"Why not?"

Ennis smiled at that. He tilted his head and met Jack's eyes across the fire. Jack hadn't expected to see Ennis smile this conversation, but the sight was more'n welcome. Shaking his head 'gain, his words, thick and sweet like honey, drawled out, "Couldn't do that ta a woman 'gain. Use her up, like I did Alma." Ennis shook his head a moment longer, staring into the fire, but Jack didn't speak, sure that Ennis wasn't done. And he wasn't. "Shouldn't do it, Jack. String the man along like that. Make him hope for that."

"You do it to me ev'ry day, friend."

The silence was thick around the fire, and when Ennis spoke again, his voice was dripping with tears and not with honey, "Yup. An' I wouldn't recommend it. Hurts like a bitch? Hard ta stand, sometimes." Ennis quickly tried to wash the words away with whiskey. The burn of it musta still been on his tongue when he spoke again, "Sure do wish you'd stop seein' him, though, Jack."

Ennis had wiggled his way inta Jack's tender place. It always existed, but wasn't often used any more: that place inside that knew that all a this was hurtin' Ennis as much as it was hurtin' him. Ennis just showed it different. Bitch of a fucked up state of affairs, the whole world, ta make both him 'n Ennis have ta hurt this much. "Can't do that, Ennis. Lureen ain't much a one for emotional support, and God knows that's what I need right now."

Ennis nodded. Apparently he understood. "Don't gotta be sleepin' with him for that."

Jack wanted to protest, to say that he needed the contact, needed the hole-fillin', only part of himself knew that sex with Randall didn't fill crap. Just tore that whole bigger, made it need more fillin'. And fuck this sittin' on the other side a the fire shit, too. Jack's hole was suddenly feeling like a maw opened up to swallow the whole goddamned word, and Christ he needed contact.

He got up, walked slow around the fire still, gripping his plastic cup of whiskey, and stood by Ennis. Ennis just looked up at him for a moment, but Jack forced that man's leg's apart with a couple taps, and sat on the stinking dirt between Ennis's knees. Ennis's hands had a mind a their own, and one settled on Jack's neck, set to stroking there with a calloused thumb. The contact wasn't enough, even for Ennis, and he leaned down to breathe against Jack's hair, kiss his ear, before leanin' back again, content with the tiny neck-rub. "Jack, I... I jus' don't want you..."

"Ennis, I could do that for you. You'd be the only one I'd do that for, but I ain't gonna do it fer no reason. You gotta promise me there's gonna be somethin' more here, when I get better."

Ennis groaned deep, but said nothin'.

"Look, I ain't takin' orders from you. Hell, we ain't even in a committed relationship, here. What the fuck you expect from me?"

"If I didn' have so many goddamn obligations, Jack, I already said I owed you more time."

"So what about when Francine goes of child support, huh?"

"Shit, I dunno."

Jack didn' want a say what he was thinkin'-- that if Ennis was willin' to make this deal, it was him as owed Ennis more time than he had left.

"Alright. I'll stop sleepin' w'him until this whole medical thing blows through an' we can discuss this more time thing."

Ennis' thumb stopped it's lazy dance. "It's jus' that easy? Say yer gonna stop and you do?"

"Y'hell, no, it won't be easy. You ain't askin' for no small favor. An' I ain't gonna be askin' no small one in return, neither, so you better think 'bout this."

"What're ya gonna do if he's all... comin' on ta ya, huh?"

Jack chuckled, smiling a huge mischievous grin that Ennis couldn't see. "Well I'll just..." He put on a John Wayne accent for kicks and continued, "mosey on over ta the bathroom, and ride myself silly ta the thought of Ennis del Mar."

Ennis chuckled back. "That so?"

"Could be fun. Not like I don't do that anyway. Added excitement with Randall in the next room. It ain't like I don't come screamin' yer name regardless."

Ennis had had plenty a whiskey, or else that image probably would a made him mad. Instead he leaned forward, draping himself over Jack, stroking Jack's neck warm, tracing the vein there with his thumb. He leaned against Jack's ear and said, low and cool like the wind itself, "You wanna scream my name?"

Jack's breath escaped him in a whoosh, and he struggled for the air to gasp out, "Sure do, cowboy."

Ennis's hand tightened on Jack's neck. "Well'n get up here, cowboy, an' I show ya how it's done."

It was Ennis that ended up on the ground, though, lowed and humbled, taking and receiving both, not givin' the owl the fucking time of day.

Neither of them finished what they started out for. Jack was too tired, feelin' weak and sleepy. Ennis was too far gone on whiskey and guilt. Didn't hardly matter, though, 'cause Jack still ended up laying naked on the ground, cradled by Ennis, that man's smell all over him in the firelight glow. Through the steam of his breath, Jack saw the moon, a waning crescent right after quarter, flicker behind the clouds, and thought ta laugh at it. The moon and the owl coul' go ta hell together, because he an' Ennis weren't part of this world no more. They could lay here forever, feel their love stretching ta all the places they never would go, China, an' England. The moon hadn't no place in their lives, the sun neither, 'cause both the sun and the moon had jobs ta be doin', and all Jack had left ta do was live in the present. Those bodies had ta light the world, but Jack only had ta light Ennis. Wished he coul' tell the moon not to waste his time w'anyone else. He an' Ennis was the world. Who else coul' there be to light?