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[e_delmar]

Ennis ain't quite sure what hurts more, his inside or his outside, and he slumps down, sitting on a rock, his head resting on his hands.

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[jack_f_twist]

Jack sits, silent, and hits the steering wheel viciously with the heel of one hand.

"Shit." Low and rough, before the creak of a door opening and the slam of it shutting behind him, boots crunching on gravel, and Jack stands there, feeling like he can't quite get enough air, can't sit in the truck and can't stand out here, neither.

All those things, finally said.

No, not said. Still not.

Shit.

[e_delmar]

"Shit."

His word echoes Jack's as his hands work at his eyes. Heart's pounding all up in his ears and he can't hear shit can't hardly see shit as he tries to catch his breath.

[jack_f_twist]

A muscle tightens in Jack's jaw, and gravel crunches when he shifts his weight, takes the few steps necessary to end up by Ennis, hunkers down to sit on the ground, scrubbing at his face tiredly.

No news, none of it. He feels bone-tired.

No apologies, because what is there to apologize for? But Ennis nearby is breathing hard, and Jack's sure never seen Ennis fall apart like he's doing now, so he does the only thing he knows how to do, puts a hand on Ennis' shoulder, though he can prob'ly hardly feel it through his coat.

[e_delmar]

Nothing ended, nothing resolved, nothing said.

Nothing ever said.

Words stuck in the air, stuck in his throat, stuck in his fist and Jack always saying things the wrong fucking thing and Ennis kicks the ground.

[jack_f_twist]

It's a special talent of his, saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, but Jack's not saying anything now, and that's unnatural enough.

Can't apologize, can't make things right when they've gone so wrong. He wonders if there was ever a time when it was right, when it could've stayed right, when nothing could've ever gone so fuckin' wrong. Only his hand on Ennis' shoulder, and hell, he wishes Ennis would hit him, or something, just so they wouldn't be sitting here like this anymore.

[e_delmar]

Jack's hand on his shoulder and hell if it don't feel like a poker branding him for all the world to see. Branding him and heat and fire and damn it hurts but he couldn't pull away if he tried and half of him's wishing like hell Jack'd just get in his truck and drive away so's they didn't have to do this.

[jack_f_twist]

Ask, and you shall receive.

The seconds tick by, and then there's the rustle of coat and jeans and a sudden touch of cold as Jack's hand leaves his shoulder to be shoved in his pocket.

"Well then."

His voice is rough, and he clears his throat, looking down at the gravel, over at the lake, across to the mountains.

But he can't look long at the mountains, and his gaze drops again. He turns to his truck. Gravel crunches as he walks back to it, opens the door.

"Time to go." His jaw tightens. "Guess I'll see you when I see you."

[e_delmar]

November, he wants to say, argue again that it'll all be okay if they can't just hold out until November, but he doesn't, he just grunts a yeah and nods his head, lowered, and walks to his own truck.

Seats are hard and cracked and he catches his pants on the door as he gets in, whispering a curse or maybe just thinking it as the engine growls to life on the first, second, third turn. Soon 'nuff, ain't nothing but the road ahead, the road and the trees and forever and Jack Twist in his goddamned rearview mirror that he can't help but look up at.

[jack_f_twist]

It's a long time before Jack gets all the way back into his truck and turns the key, letsd the engine cough to life. It's a long time that he stands behind the open door, watching over the steel frame as Ennis drives away.

One more barrier between them. But glass and steel ain't so immoveable as time, distance, money, promises. Ennis' no-good life is between them.

Jack's daddy is between them.

The memory of Ennis' daddy is between them.

And still Jack watches, unsmiling, his expression set, as Ennis drives away, and in the back of his mind remembers cold rushing wind, crackling embers at his feet, arms around him and a low voice in his ear.

Sleeping on your feet like a horse.

And a lullaby, hummed low, so low it might have been the wind, the river, the trees. Might have been Jack's imagination.

He closes his eyes. And when all the dust from Ennis' truck as settled back on the road, he slides into the seat, shuts the door with a clang.

Let be, let be.

[e_delmar]

Let be.

Ain't nothing Ennis don't know how to do better, and he chokes back words unsaid words never said never fucking said not even back there, back on brokeback, or back in that place he can't hardly remember anymore.

And part of him wishes maybe his truck would break down, there in the middle of the road, so's he wouldn't have to drive away, leave this place, leave Jack, go back to reality. Go back to anywhere. But the trucks never been anything but a damn traitor and it chugs along until he can't see Jack anymore, until the road's a fucking blur and only partially because of the speed, and he bloodies his knuckle chewing on it as he repeats to himself

November.