Disclaimer: The characters do not belong to me and I make no money off of them.

Warnings: Character Illness, Cursing.
AN: Thanks as always to marakeshsparrow (Jessymama on ), for making time in a busy schedule to beta. Honest and respectful feedback of any kind is welcomed.
Word Count: 4354

Chapter 10: Where to Next?

Jack knew it was early when he woke up ta feel Ennis's warm skin 'gainst 'imself. They'd gone ta sleep apart, but woken up tangled up in each other. Seemed their unconsciouses had some kind a indecent notions 'bout the nature a their relationship. Jack smiled and turned to lay his cheek against the skin he had access to, not sure what body part it was. Crackin' open an eye, it looked like maybe an elbow.

They took the mornin' slowly an' together, makin' up for the distance of the night before. The days since Jack's surgery were growin' and he was feelin' healthy again in the bedroom department. He was healthier in other departments as well, havin' put on a pound or two livin' off good bratwurst.

Ennis made scrambled eggs an' afterwards they drove back inta the city at Jack's insistence, where they saw there was some kinda arts festival. Only when they were getting out a the truck did Jack realize it was kinda a queer thing ta do-- go to an arts festival. But it was a borin' ass city for grown men such as themselves, so he thought it sounded alright.

Enterin' the gates, it was clear that pretty much everyone in the city had come out. The festival filled quite a few blocks. There were some paintings, a stage with dancers, but they walked by them both without sparin' a glance. Jack, for his part, had his eye on the food aisles, even though he'd already eaten breakfast. Forcin' himself not ta head straight there, they took in some log carving an' some Native American dancin'. Then was lunch, an' Jack made an affair of it. The air was cold, an' the people were bundled up. In the afternoon, flurries began to fall, stackin' on top a the already fine white-- well, gray an' muddy, after all this foot traffic-- layer of snow coatin' the ground.

The sun set in the early afternoon, 'cause it was still winter. Everyone was drifting in the direction of a particularly large grandstand. Not wanting ta be left out, Jack headed that way too. Bein' crammed shoulder-to-shoulder with other bodies was alright with Jack because at least they blocked the wind, but somehow he an' Ennis got separated, an' they were crammed against other men a good five feet apart, which was a misfortune. Jack caught a mischievous smile alighting on his lips as he started ta think of the little things he could a done to harass Ennis if only they'd been pressed together in this crowd.

Anyways, the crowd was gatherin' ta hear a gigantic choir, men in suits n' women in dresses, sing Christmas songs. Jack had to admit their voices were some of the loveliest he ever heard, but then again, the most he heard was the little Southern Baptist church in Childress. That Childress choir'd got him prayin' alright-- prayin' the ninety-five-year-old blue-headed woman who thought she was singin' soprano wouldn't give herself a heart attack. He hadn't even thought 'bout how close Christmas was 'til just this moment. The banner on the stage read "The Mormon Tabernacle Choir."

One thing he did notice was that most of the men were bald, an' almost all the people were white. So these were Mormons, 'huh? His dad'd always made fun a Mormons. Jack was about ta do so in his own head, wonderin' if inbreedin' made them all bald or some shit, but stopped short. His dad made fun of a lot a kinds of people, an' he was one of those kinds. He pressed his lips together an' thought he ought to get ta know the Mormons 'fore he made fun a them, anyway.

So, when the concert was done, an' the crowd of onlookers filed out of the festival, goofy-happy looks on their faces, Jack shouldered up ta Ennis an' said, "what ya say we go have a look at that temple?"

"What temple?"

"The Mormon one."

Jack could have predicted the look he'd get, an' he got it alright, the one that implied Jack was batshit insane. But Jack also knew that Ennis realized this was his trip and Ennis wouldn't put up too much of a fight. They walked down the street, Jack leadin' a good twenty feet in front.

When they got in to the temple area, there were already a bunch a Christmas lights on the trees an' such outside. The official tour wasn't allowed into the temple, which was only for good Mormons. Jack imagined his father an' mother would a been less than pleased to know he was visiting what they considered the very core of ungodliness from which all ungodliness sprang, next to queer men a course. He glanced over at Ennis who, from the look on his face, was likewise imagining his mama rollin' in her grave.

The visit was short and unceremonious. They were allowed in one little building where the choir sometimes practiced. Apparently the choir was well-known. Havin' just heard them, that didn't surprise Jack too much. He ignored the tour guide an' looked around at the pink seat cushions and garish murals of angels hangin' over them big piano-things churches have. Organs. Jack stifled a decidedly inappropriate noise from his throat. He knew it just wasn't a good idea for him ta go too near a church.

Even it bein' a Mormon church, Ennis fixed him with a glare.

Finally, they left there an' headed for the truck. Jack was about as tired as he could be. He flopped into the worn brown leather without a cent of grace.

"Don't feel right goin' near no church with you," Ennis mumbled across the cab.

"Yeah, well..." Jack smiled back, "I know I ain't no angel, but--"

"Jack Twist, you the devil himself." The smile that crossed Ennis's face made Jack think Ennis had some proof of that in mind. Plus, damned if Ennis wasn't lookin' a little younger. The bratwurst seemed to be doin' him some good, too, 'cause his cheeks looks filled out, an' pink with winter cold in the shining night. A sliver of moon was chasin' the fading sunset glow westward.

Jack tried to let it slid. Sometimes, though, somethin' Jack saw in Ennis's eyes made those words he'd heard all them months ago rise up and sting like his old man's belt-- it's 'cause a you I'm like this.

You the devil himself. They might as well have been the same words. It didn't matter that he knew it was said in jest.

'Cause he knew deep down Ennis thought Jack Twist was the devil. Jack Twist, who laid a trap, seduced Ennis, kept pure ol' Ennis del Mar under some kind a queer spell. 'Cause they all knew who was the queer around here. Jack fisted his hand around the door handle, knuckles white, cheeks startin' a flame. It was a fuckin' joke. Drop it, Twist.

Besides, this was their time. It was their week in the mountains, except it was four weeks instead of the usual one. But Jack wasn't foolin' himself, and he knew it was just a little while, just a temporary time like all them others. They had a unspoken deal, which meant they didn't mess up their times together with fights an' bein' grouchy over a simple joke. Jack had already fucked with their last trip. It wouldn't be fair to go fuckin' over this one too, with Ennis bein' generous ta be here in the first place.

After all, it wasn't like they were tryin' a build somethin'. They hadn't made no plans for after this. The thought shot Jack through the heart, pierced his soul.

He had ta look away as they passed the sign to "Mountain Shadows", 'cause he saw that's the way things were. Hadn't nothing changed. Not really.

"Well, I would love ta convert you to my devilish ways, you know I would, but I am about dead on my feet." Jack had to make light at this point, or else things would get too heavy.

"You ain't on your feet."

"Well, I'm dead on my ass then." And it was true. 'Cause if Ennis made dinner, Jack wasn't aware. He was passed out in his clothes across their little bed within ten minutes of stumblin' back into the RV.

The next couple days in Salt Lake were low-key. They drove out into the mountains around the city, found a little place that rented horses, and went on a trail ride. The unfortunate thing 'bout that was that the barn owner insisted they had ta ride out with a guide. She was a teenage girl, not more'n sixteen, an' real quiet. Jack wondered if she reminded Ennis a one a his girls. Or maybe not. Jack had to face that fact that he didn't know shit about Ennis's girls.

Any rate, Ennis wasn't too pleased, seemed like. He kept his horse a good thirty feet behind Jack and the girl's. Jack knew why, though. He recalled Ennis's tendency to pull up beside him, knees brushing. Too many years of that made him ache for it now, even though he had better, with the RV and Chinese food and whatever else he wanted. That was still too hard to believe. But part of him was trained to yearn for a knee-brush.

Eventually, though, the girl seemed ta get bored. "Well, ya'll know what you're doin'. We're supposed ta head back now 'cause I give a lesson at two pm, but I don't see any harm if you want to ride around for another hour or two. Jus'-- there's yellow markers that mark the end of the property." She went on ta explain that they had two miles ta the south, 'bout ten ta the west, and more than they could ride in a couple hours to the north. The horse trails were pretty clearly marked-- not somethin' Jack an' Ennis were used to.

The girl rode off, and Jack an' Ennis sat in uncomfortable silence for a space a heartbeats. Jack looked up an' saw an eagle high up in the blue. They were gorgeous creatures, he thought: the way they splayed their tails, the power behind them. He was reminded a the feather he still kept tucked in his hat band. Ennis didn't like eagles much, so Jack didn't point it out, much as he wanted to share the sight.

The sun was shining fire from the untouched snow, an' Jack remembered how once, 'bout seven, maybe eight years ago, Ennis confessed that he didn't much like snow. To Jack, it made the world clean an' soft. And quiet-- like Ennis. But ta Ennis, they told of his own passage, and it was not a story Ennis liked ta hear. In this way, in maybe a lot a ways, Ennis was deeper than Jack, read more into things than the beauty Jack tended to see on the surface.

Ennis interrupted Jack's reverie by knickering to his horse to start west. They rode side-by-side but not touching, a silence between them.

When the flurries started, slowly at first, Ennis turned back. Jack followed like he always did, ridin' along even when he had the illusion of soarin'. Here he was, horses returned, back in the passenger seat of Ennis's truck, turnin' ta Ennis, asking "where to next?", and not talkin' about locations on a map.

Ennis was grimacing, maybe swallowing bitter pills of fear and doubt and snow flurries, so far from home. Jack wondered if Ennis felt homesick, if he'd ever been to Utah before, if, to Ennis, maybe everything felt like it was happenin' too fast. Everything-- all their changin' from years of not-changin'-- it even felt sudden to Jack. Could there be a too fast after twenty years? Apparently they'd discovered it, because the horses had reminded them, the soft cushion of years turning hard in the space of minutes.

After Jack asked his question, they didn't speak, fear a real thing between them, and Jack couldn't even guess its immediate cause. He was worried-- worried that he'd given up the knee-brushing for something that could only ever be a temporary thing. Maybe he'd made a bad trade.

By the time they got back that night, though, Jack was thinking otherwise. 'Cause Ennis' brooding, whatever its cause, had turned into a loneliness that had faded into a burning sexual need. They didn't make a fire, didn't have a proper dinner. Ennis went at Jack quickly, Jack's wound finally allowing such a thing without more than a stretching discomfort if he turned a certain way. And yet, despite the ardor Ennis displayed when he first turned his attentions upon Jack that night, Ennis ended up movin' slowly, stroking fiercely but without urgency. When Jack came, Ennis seemed to treasure the moment like he'd never been in this place before, maybe never would be again.

Jack realized he was in a fuckin' rotten-awful mood, though, 'cause he was pissed to see a treasuring, saving-up look on Ennis' face. It meant one a two things, or most likely both of 'em-- it meant that either Ennis thought Jack might not live forever (which was a fuckin' crock if Jack had anything ta do with it. Shit.), or Ennis was thinkin' what Jack was thinkin' 'bout this trip comin' to an end some day. Ennis wouldn't need to fuckin' save up sex memories, wouldn't need to treasure every moment between them, if he'd pull his head out of his ass long enough to see there was such a thing as livin' safe, even if you were queer.

Jack turned over, releasing his frustrations in a sigh. They were leavin' in the morning, and Jack had every intention of drivin' at least some a the next leg, so he might as well get some sleep. Maybe Ennis would notice his cold shoulder tonight, maybe not, but he guessed he didn't really care.

Jack woke up the next morning and worked in silence next to Ennis, packing up the RV.

It was about eight in the morning by the time they hit the road. Jack drove the first leg with such silent determination that not a word had been exchanged about it. In fact, none were exchanged all morning except for Ennis's muffled, "You want the last sausage?" and Jack's moody, "It's all yours."

Ennis studied the maps while Jack soared over asphalt through the Wendover Range. "You know 'cordin' to this map there's a lot of government stuff 'round here?"

"Oh yeah." Jack didn't even feign interest as he flew away from the rising sun.

"What's a matter with you, huh?" Ennis was soundin' pissy now. "You been silent all the time, since yesterday, an' I don't got a clue--"

"What're we doin' here, Ennis?" Jack found his own voice strangely dispassionate, detached in a way that frightened him.

"We're taking your goddamn trip, Jack! What you think we're doin', huh?"

"Well I know that but thanks for remindin' me." Jack had an unpleasant sarcastic streak. So did Ennis. It could make for some nasty arguments.

"Shit, what you on about now?"

Jack was glad to use the road as an excuse not to meet Ennis's eyes. "I mean, what's going to happen when this is over? I'm just goin' a go back to Lureen, and you're goin' a go back to that craphole you call a home, and that'll just be that?"

"Not this again."

"Yes, this again, dammit."

"Hell, maybe we could just live out a this thing, never return it? No rent, huh? I guess we can just bum people for gas money? That what you got in mind?"

"Fuck you."

"Well what, huh? What do you want from me, Jack? What do you want from me that I can give you?"

Jack heard the frustration in Ennis' voice give way to desperation, and he realized-- not for the first time, though every time felt like the first time-- that what he wanted from Ennis was something Ennis genuinely believed himself unable ta give.

Jack exhaled, shifted in his seat, and exhaled again. Finally he was able to find his calm. "Yeah alright. I'm sorry." And he was. He really had no excuse for gettin' his hopes up any more. Ennis took care that Jack never had a real reason to hope, and Jack worried that sometimes Ennis was distant or mean intentionally just to prevent those questions, the questions Jack inevitably wanted to ask.

"Christ," Ennis muttered.

It was all they spoke for a few hundred miles, but it had diffused a situation, and Jack's thoughts were finally able to wander carefree through more fertile grounds. He watched the landscape with interest, but it never occurred to him ta chat about it, since he was so used to the silent hours alone on the road. They stopped for gas twice. Ennis never fell asleep, and Jack wondered whether that might be out a concern for him. Or maybe Ennis wasn't the nappin' kind. How the hell would he know anyway?

They stopped at a diner in a small town for lunch. Jack'd seen the little place off a the road a bit, and guessed Ennis would appreciate the break from fast food. They had little home-cooked barbecue meals: a pork sandwich for Jack, spare ribs for Ennis. The food was hearty and fillin' an' felt like home. When they got back to the RV, they switched positions, and Jack slept the slumber of a man with a satisfied belly.

He woke up again to see it was dark out, early evening by the dash clock. The sound that'd woke him was Ennis, swearing incoherently, and pulling the RV over to the side of the road. The texture of the tires on asphalt changed as they rode up the shoulder kickin' up road grit. Ennis was clamoring out in a minute, and Jack followed, stumblingly half awake, into the cool night. It was pretty chilly here, and Jack was glad he still has his coat on. It wasn't any warmer than Salt Lake.

Ennis peered under the hood with a flashlight. Jack guessed they'd had some RV trouble, but his brain was still coming-to. The road was flanked with towering evergreens. The first quarter moon was bright and almost directly overhead. If he could have blocked out the stream of foul words comin' from underneath the hood, it might have been the most beautiful place in the world. Maybe second most beautiful, 'cause somewhere else on this Earth, those other towering evergreens stood in their black cathedral, a shrine where Jack'd already made his alter. He loved this place for its resemblance to that one.

Shakin' himself back to the world around him, Jack peered under the hood next to Ennis. "'S a matter?"

"Alternator I guess."

"Well, ya ain't gonna be able to fix that here on the side a the road."

"Nope."

"We near any towns or anything?"

"Passed a place called Trucker 'bout twenty miles back."

Ennis stayed under the hood while Jack climbed back into the cab and unfolded a map. "You mean Truckee?"

"Yup, guess so," Ennis called back.

"Shit, that puts us 'bout twenty miles yet from the next town."

Ennis said something that might have been a curse word.

Jack climbed back out. "Well, alright. It's no big deal. We'll just take your truck back to Truckee, get a new alternator."

"Small town, doubt no auto place'll be open by the time we get there."

Jack sighed. "What 'bout the next town, Colfax?"

"Dunno."

"Well, we could just spend the night here an' head out to Truckee in the mornin'."

"Can't just park on the side a the road."

Jack didn't see why not, but Ennis clearly wasn't in the mood to be told he was wrong. "Alright." He rubbed his weary eyes, shifted his feet, and pointed one exasperated finger at his worse half. "I don't got not problem stayin' here. I'll stay, you head on out to Truckee an' see if you can' find a place by mornin'."

"Uh uh. Ain't gonna leave you here by the side a the road."

"Well I can go to fuckin' Truckee then. You can stay with the RV."

"Yeah an' what if the truck breaks down or somethin'?"

"For Christsakes Ennis! What do you want? Those're our choices. We gotta pick one a them."

Ennis was muttering under his breath, back to poking the alternator like that shit was gonna help, when Jack's attention was arrested by a pair a white lights headed down the road in their direction. Jack stepped out into the black rivery night-road, reminded of his trip into Riverton just a few weeks ago via the kindness of a stranger. The car was pulling over 'fore Ennis even noticed it. As it neared, Jack watched Ennis crane his neck out from under the RV hood, a look Jack could have predicted written all over his cowboy's face: distrust.

The car pulled over and stopped but didn't shut off. A man stepped out of the driver's side. Jack couldn't see much of him by the low evening light, 'specially with the headlight beams blockin' out all else, casting unnatural white shadows into the pines. To those trees, the men on the road were transitory ants who didn't know shit about shit; they watched with indifference.

Comin' around the car, Jack saw the man was tall. "Ya'll havin' car trouble?"

Ennis had a flashlight, and in a gust a rudeness, pointed it at the man's face. The man balked, ducked his head, and threw up a hand.

Ennis called, "What's it to you?"

Fuck, Ennis, he wants to help out with the RV. Why do you got a be such a dumbass? It took a lot of restraint for Jack to say, calmly, "Let the man be, Ennis. He just wants to give us a hand." Jack didn't look Ennis's way as Ennis lowered the beam, sure censure would be written in Ennis's gaze. Jack wasn't sure he'd be able to keep his temper under the force of Ennis's simmering, angry eyes.

The air grew tense as no one moved. It was about as awkward as could be, 'specially for somethin' that'd started out as such a simple situation. Jack's eyes were adjusting ta the new light level, an' the first thing he saw was the look of worry in the man's eyes when they rested on Ennis. Ennis was workin' his jaw, squarin' 'is shoulders, preparin' for a fight. Dammit.

Then the man met Jack's eyes then. Their gazes held fer a second too long, and the realization hit Jack square in the chest, the reason the man was so on guard. It wasn't a trick he expected Ennis ta know, but queer men learned to see each other even in the bleak darkness of night.

He was tall, lanky, an' had an Adam's apple the size of a real apple. His pale skin looked ghostly in the headlights, and his hair would probably be red by daylight.

Jack smiled a roguish smile. Maybe some would call it flirting, but it just came natural to him in these moments of mutual recognition. He jutted out a hand. "Jack Twist."

"Adam Morley," the relieved-yet-reticent man took Jack's hand and shook it with firm, skinny fingers.

"This here's my friend Ennis. Don't mind him, he's just got a crawdad up his ass."

Ennis, disarmed by Jack's sudden friendliness, came around and shook the man's hand, shooting Jack a look that said Ennis knew that something had gone over his head.

"Looks like we lost our alternator here," Jack said.

"Well, I'm guessing most places are closed by this time."

Jack felt Ennis's eyes boring I-told-you-so's into the side of his skull. "Yeah, we guessed as much," he responded.

"Well... you seem like nice enough people. I have a ranch about ten miles north of here. Your truck runs?" He eyed the pickup on the dolly.

"If you call what it does runnin'," Jack laughed.

Ennis glowered.

Adam chuckled. "Alright. We could put some warning signs up around this monster, and you could follow me back. We've got a guest bedroom. Tomorrow we'll find you an alternator."

Jack didn't miss the we, or that bedroom had been singular. His salesman years let him read between all kinds a lines. For once, he was glad the man had assumed he an' Ennis were a couple. Most people took one look at Ennis and figured he was straight as a bow-hunting arrow. Jack didn't have the energy to explain, not even to a gay man, so he was happy to be spared that. And he was rather eager to meet the other half of this man's "we."

Ennis reluctantly agreed, probably 'cause he had no choice. He an' Jack grabbed their crap from the RV, locked up, and threw the bags in the back of the truck. Jack took the driver seat without a word and backed 'er carefully off the dolly. They followed Adam's car through the California night.

Their truck took easily to first the sloping barrows, and eventually the more jagged switchbacks, of the foothills. But as they rose up towards the mountains, towards the dark night, so did Jack's anxiety rise up from his stomach. There'd never been another person as close to this thing as Adam was about ta be. Jack cracked a window, but even the sharp, high-altitude air could not bring back the smell of mountain shadows and times past. Something was finally changing irrevocably, and Jack didn't know if he was terrified or thrilled, but reckoned it was some of both: that sweeping, bone-thudding sensation he'd got the night he'd placed Ennis's hand on his cock, knowing that no matter what happened from here, nothing would ever be the same again.