Brokeback Mountain His Wish

((The genius that is Annie Proulx owns all the characters in this story. )) 

Brokeback Mountain made a huge impact on me. It's one of the greatest, most painful love stories I've ever seen. I had to write this story for myself, as a way of dealing with the emotions this film inspired in me. This is my very first fan fiction. I hope you all enjoy.

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His hands were trembling slightly as he raised the two shirts to his face, Jack's blue denim shirt draped around the one Ennis though he had left up on Brokeback mountain in 1963. The fabric was cool felt cool against his burning cheek. He closed his eyes and imagined himself in Jack's embrace, holding him as he whispered into his ears; as he told him how much he missed him. He could smell the trees and the rain, and in that moment he was transported back to the past, back to that mountain that had ensnared them so. He could smell Jack in those old shirts and his mind was flooded with words and images of him. The longing in his heart was unbearable. What he would give to feel Jack's body underneath the shirt one last time.

He walked out of the closet and into the room, the shirts still tightly clutched in his hands. He felt weak with the burden of his finding. The fact that Jack had kept his shirt for twenty long years was a statement in itself---one which words could never hope to match. Ennis sat on the small chair by the window, his face wet with tears as the memories continued their assault. He must have sat there for at least ten minutes, staring out into the rundown ranch that Jack grew up in. Ennis Del Mar was a man of few words and one who knew how to hold his emotions in check. The way a man should. The way his father had taught him. Even when he had seen those cursed red letters stamped on the postcard he had sent to Jack and even after the phone conversations with Jack's wife, he had not shed a single tear. But now his body was convulsing, his stifled sobs seeming to echo loudly through the desolate room as he placed a hand on the entwined shirts.

"He used to sit right by that window and watch his father ride when he was a boy."

The voice startled Ennis and he turned quickly to the aged woman standing at the doorway. She saw the tears standing on Ennis's face and smiled kindly. "I'm- I'm sorry, ma'am." he said and stood up, wiping the wetness from his face subconsciously. "That's alright." Jack's mother said, smiling that unsettling, mournful smile. The creases on her aged face looked like rivers running through a valley, the sadness in her eyes like a stormy night sky. Ennis recognized those eyes. They were the eyes of his Jack every time they left Brokeback to return to their respectable and miserable lives.

Her eyes were drawn to the shirts--- she clearly recognized the blue denim one that she had seen on her son countless times in his teenage years. Looking down at the bloodied shirts for a brief moment, Ennis opened his mouth to explain.

"No... you don't have to say anything." Jack's mother murmured. Her smile faded and was replaced with controlled anguish that made Ennis's heart break a little more, if that was even possible. For a horrifying second, he feared she would break down into tears and if she did, he would not know what to say; would not know how to console her. But she looked up at him, and though there were tears brimming in her blue eyes, she was smiling again. "When we lose someone..." she whispered, so low that Ennis could barely hear. "We want to hold on to something... anything that reminds us of them."

Ennis nodded silently, his brown eyes looking down at the two shirts in his hands. The bright red blood that Jack had knocked from of his nose looked more like mud than anything now. Jack's voice echoed in his head then, apologizing as he tried to wipe away the blood with the arm of his own shirt. His voice. That's what he missed the most.

"He was so tough on him growing up."

Ennis frowned, uncertainty in his eyes. Jack's mother glanced out into the hallway briefly and then back at Ennis. "But he loved him. He's trying to hold onto something too." Mrs. Twist told him. She looked into Ennis's puzzled eyes and what he saw when he looked back scared him cold. In her eyes she saw long years and the hard and uncertain life she had lead. She saw the love for her son, Jack, so strong it rivaled his own. He saw sorrow and fear and resentment. He looked away from that gaze, his heart clenching. Mrs. Twist silently turned and walked out into the hallway. Ennis looked up, saw her hunched form standing just outside the door, and wanted to stop her, to tell her how sorry he was and that he'd take it all back and give her back her son if he could. But his voice was caught and his throat was dry. No words would come. It wasn't the first time his words failed him, nor the first time he failed himself.

Out in the hallway, Jack's mother turned her head back towards Ennis but didn't look at him.

She whispered to him, her voice low like the wind's murmur. "He keeps it on the nightstand." was all she said before she disappeared into the hall and down the stairs, her thin and fragile body looking like a ghost at it vanished down into the kitchen.

When Ennis heard her footsteps disappear down the wooden stairs he heaved a painful, shuddering sigh that was half terrified and half relieved.

_"He always said he wanted his ashes scattered on Brokeback Mountain, but I wasn't sure where that was. I thought Brokeback Mountain might be around where he grew up. Knowing Jack, it was probably some pretend place, where bluebirds sing and there's a whiskey spring."_

The voices downstairs broke away his thoughts and he quickly rushed out of the room, his heart pounding away in his chest.

Mr. Twist was talking to his wife in his slow, patronizing drawl. Listening to him sent a burst of anger rising in the pit of Ennis's stomach. i "There's no pleasin' my ol' man, no way." /i Jack's distant voice echoed.

Eyes darting around, Ennis cursed under his breath. He had to hurry. He felt suffocated in this place. Now more than ever, he understood Jack's desire to be away from Lightning Flat. There were three other doors upstairs. One was probably a restroom. He crept towards the one directly ahead of him, where the staircase's L-shape wood-railing ended. Mr. Twist was still going on about the unwanted guest but Ennis no longer cared. Jack's ashes was all he could think of. He could practically hear his own heartbeat in his ears as his sweaty grip tightened around the doorknob. He felt excitement, elation, the same way he had always felt when he knew he would see Jack standing by the river, waiting for him to step out of his pickup and into his arms.

He opened the door and felt a pang of disappointment hit him like a ton of brick. No one was in there. No one but a cold silence that grabbed a hold of him and slapped him around, bringing him back to his senses.

_'What the hell d'you expect, you stupid bastard?'_ he heard his own voice say. He felt stupid, so stupid, for even thinking Jack would be there. He had held onto some hope that this was all some sick and twisted joke--- he held onto it like a drowning man holding onto rock. He hoped, oh how he wished, that Jack had planned all of this to lure him to this place; to the place he told Ennis he wanted to build a home.

_"Jack fuckin' Twist; got it all figured out, ain't ya?"_

Ennis bit into his lip hard as a chocking sob threatened to escape. Through his blurred vision he saw the urn on the nightstand. He didn't know how he had made it over to the nightstand for his legs felt like they were made of gelatin, but there he was the next second, staring down at the ivory urn before him.

It was beautiful. An off-white urn with a single, streaking line of blue where the top came off. It must have cost them a fortune.

"You _were_ in here..." Ennis heard himself say, but his mind felt so numb that it was as if someone else was speaking. "...'sjust not the way I pictured I'd see you again..." He unrolled the two shirts on the bed and then moved to pick up the urn. It trembled in his hands as he held it up in the air, eyes drinking in what remained of the man with the jet-black hair and sparkling blue eyes. He had the love of his life in his hands and it was the most bittersweet thing he had ever tasted.

He turned to the bed and placed the ivory urn over the shirts, working quickly but carefully. Moments later, Ennis was walking down the stair with the rolled up shirts under his arm. Mr. Twist heard him coming and his cold gaze fell upon him. He didn't say a word, but his eyes narrowed on the shirts when Ennis stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked nervously around the room. Jack's mother looked anxiously over at Ennis. Her eyes caught sight of the rolled up shirts and she moved quickly into the kitchen, pulling a brown paper bag out of a drawer and returning back to the dinning table. Ennis could feel Mr. Twist's eyes boring into him as gently he handed the rolled up shirts to Jack's mother. Her overwrought blue eyes flashed briefly up at Ennis, making his heart stop. She ran a frail hand over the fabric, smoothing it out before slowly placing it inside the paper bag. Ennis took it gratefully and looked down at her pale and worn face.

As if sensing something, Mr. Twist spoke up his, tone much harsher than before. He said something about the family plot and about Jack's ashes belonging there. Ennis felt sick as Mrs. Twist looked up at him almost pleadingly, her hand rubbing the back of her neck at the same time.

"You come back and visit." she said. It sounded more like a question. Ennis nodded silently, but one look in his brown eyes told the truth--- this would be the last time he'd ever set foot on Lightning Flat.

He moved towards the door, nodding curtly to Mr. Twist who's face remained troubled and suspicious. Jack's mother led him out and stood there with the door open, a hand over her heart as she regarded Ennis silently. "Thank you for this..." Ennis said, lifting the rolled paper bag under his arm. He managed to look into her resigned, mourning eyes one last time. It made his heart hurt and forced the lump on his throat further out. He turned to leave.

Mrs. Twist stepped out into the dirt road, a gust blowing through her old and tattered clothing. She raised a weak hand in the air as Ennis walked to his truck. Like a man in a dream he got in his pickup and drove away, never looking back.

More than once during his long drive to Brokeback Mountain, he shot long glances at the paper bag that lay resting on the passenger seat. The aching longing in his face transformed him into the young man he used to be on those short, sporadic days with Jack.

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**Author's Note:** Please read and review. I'm not sure if I'll make this a one-shot, I guess it all depends on what you guys think of it.


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Brokeback Mountain, Angst