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[Sep. 25th, 2007|01:25 pm] |
| [ | mood |
| |  drained | ] |
I’m writing this with a heavy heart as I know that what I have to say will probably come as a shock and a disappointment. But I want to be honest and not leave you all in the dark about my intentions. I am not going to be finishing “Turbulence.” I so wanted to write another Jack and Ennis story to share with all of you. But from the moment I posted the first chapter I’ve been hit hard with doubt and regret and I know that writing the story is not the right thing for me. Finding this fandom and sharing my writing has been such a blessing. But it is time for me to move on. I was working on an original novel when I began writing IIA and my focus on getting published waned as I worked on my BBM stories. I’ve learned so much from writing in this fandom and the encouragement I’ve received from all of you has been invaluable. But I’ve also used this fandom as a security blanket; so long as my time and energy were spent on writing BBM stories I didn’t have to do the hard work of trying to get an original novel published. And I didn’t have to face what are sure to be long years of rejection and struggle. I have no illusions about becoming a best-selling author, but I do have a dream of one day walking into a bookstore and seeing something I’ve written on the shelves (even if only a handful of people read it and it’s in the bargain bin!). I’m struggling with writing “Turbulence” because I don’t think it’s really where my heart lies; at this point in my life my passion is with my original characters and I owe them my full attention. I’m so, so sorry to quit on this story and on my readers. But please know it was never my intention to upset anyone and if I could go back and change things, I would. The gifts you all have given me in your kind and thoughtful words can never be repaid. I will be forever grateful. Love, Amy |
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| Shades of Grey--Chapter Eighteen |
[Dec. 21st, 2006|09:35 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  happy | ] |
Author: midwest-girl (Amy)
Disclaimer: Once again, I did not create these characters. They are the work of Annie Proulx and I am just riding her coat tails.
Rating: NC-17 for the story as a whole.
Synopsis: Oh boy, that's a tough one. Let's just say this is a modern AU!AU told from both Jack's and Ennis's points of view. I hope those of you who enjoyed "If I Asked" will give this story a chance. It has a darker setting and mood than IIA, but please keep in mind that I love J/E and want only the best for them....
Author's Note: As this is the last chapter of SoG, I want to take a minute and thank all the wonderful readers of this story. I am so thankful to you for going on this journey with me. I know it took a leap of faith for some of you to dive into this AU!AU world. I can never thank you enough for your support and enthusiasm. This chapter is for all of you! Also, to those readers who left comments on Chapter 17, I will be responding to those in the next few days. Writing this chapter and RL conspired to kick me to the curb this week and I just didn't have time to get everything done. But I promise your comments will be acknowledged soon!
I also want to thank Judy for her beta work on these last few chapters. The woman has eyes like a hawk!! If there are any mistakes in this chapter they are because I futzed with it after she sent it back to me, not because she failed to catch them.
CYN and Kumari, you two are the champions of patiently listening to me bitch, moan, obsess and worry. This story would not have been the same without you both.
And huge hugs to Christina, who read the very first page last summer and convinced me to go ahead and write the story. There wouldn't be a SoG without you and I'm so grateful!
Finally, I have to thank SoG Jack and Ennis, who took up permanent camp in my heart and will have a home there forever. It is very difficult to say good-bye to them and I send them on their way with only good wishes for their future.
Feedback: I would love any and all feedback and please know it is truly appreciated.
Okay, enough already! On with the chapter... And Happy Holidays!
Chapter Eighteen
We are the mirror as well as the face in it.
We are tasting the taste this minute
of eternity. We are pain
and what cures pain, both. We are
the sweet cold water and the jar that pours.
--Rumi
The razor made a harsh, scraping sound against Jack’s cheek, louder in his ear than in reality. For a moment he was transported somewhere he did not want to travel, a cold warehouse, full of death. Funny how that happened, the disposable Bic in his hand nothing like Madrigal’s favored weapon, but the bright scrape of metal reminder enough. Jack forced his mind back to the small motel bathroom, leaning closer to the mirror as he tucked his top lip over his teeth, shaving the delicate skin underneath his nose.
“You’re shaving?” Ennis’s head poked out from behind the shower curtain, his hair standing up in shampoo-laden tufts.
“Yep.”
Ennis’s head disappeared again and Jack smiled as he listened to Ennis rushing his way through the rest of his shower. He couldn’t keep from sneaking a peek, or two, when Ennis yanked the curtain open, reaching for a towel with a dripping arm. Ennis twisted the towel around his waist, coming up to press his damp chest against Jack’s bare back.
“Hey,” Ennis said softly, resting his chin on Jack’s shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
“Hey, yourself. I didn’t realize this was so exciting.”
“I’ve never seen you shave before,” Ennis said, as though that explained it. And maybe it did. Hadn’t he stayed awake after Ennis fell asleep last night, watching the slow rise and fall of his chest, tracing the tiny freckles on his arms? Or this morning, hadn’t he been fascinated by the way Ennis thumbed his way through the paper as he nursed his cup of coffee, every motion slow and deliberate? Maybe they were both storing up memories, tiny moments in time, to feed them in the lean, hungry days that waited just around the next corner.
Ennis planted a slow, wet row of kisses along Jack’s neck. “When did you get this one?” Ennis’s fingers trailed a lazy loop around the yin-yang tattoo on Jack’s shoulder.
“After Leavenworth. That one was actually my idea, as opposed to Hinestroza’s or Lureen’s.”
“Why did you want it?”
Jack shrugged, pulling the razor down his cheek. “I read about the symbol when I was in prison. I liked the idea of it. Light and dark, two halves making a whole.” He met Ennis’s eyes in the mirror again, setting his razor down on the sink.
“Are you the dark, Jack?” Ennis asked quietly, his fingers moving across Jack’s chest.
But Jack didn’t want to talk about the shadows that swirled within him, the dark he knew was never going away, having grown accustomed to its dank and fertile home, its roots embedded deep in the rich, black soil. So he grabbed Ennis’s hand and pushed it lower, watching when Ennis’s mouth opened, a low groan escaping as he pulled Jack’s towel away, loosening his own with his free hand, spreading Jack’s thighs with strong and demanding knees.
Jack gripped the edge of the sink, arching his back as Ennis surged into his body, Ennis’s hot breaths whistling against his neck. When Ennis was inside him this way Jack felt the darkness retreating, pushed back by the goodness, the joy of their joining. They worked together without speaking, Jack driving back for every thrust forward, their eyes catching in the mirror, showing faces slack with pleasure.
Ennis came with a shout, his fingers curling rough troughs in Jack’s hips and Jack closed his eyes and took what Ennis gave him, wishing that somehow a spark from Ennis’s light might be left behind, a tiny flicker in the darkness.
**********
“Guilty.”
The judge’s voice was calm and even, probably not carrying much beyond the first row of the gallery, which was fine because the courtroom was practically empty. The reaction was nothing like what you saw on TV, no one screamed in hysterics, the bailiff sat calmly in his seat, not fighting off a distraught defendant or his family. The jurors looked blasé, most of them anxious to be home now that their civic duty was complete.
Jack glanced across the table at Ronnie Jennings, watching as Jill murmured something in his ear. Ronnie nodded slowly, his eyes focused on his hands. To someone who’d never sat in Ronnie’s seat and heard the single word, guilty, that would dictate his life from now on, it would probably seem as though Ronnie was fine, that he was paying attention, present. But Jack had been in that seat, several times, and he knew Ronnie was retreating farther into that space he’d created around himself from the moment he’d been arrested--the safe space that kept him removed from what happened to him, kept him from thinking about the complete loss of control over his own life. If Ronnie was lucky he could stay inside that self-made bubble for the length of his prison sentence. The trick was figuring out how to step back into life when the prison doors swung open, how to become a part of the living world again.
Jill gave Ronnie a quick pat on the upper arm as the bailiff led him away, his hands shackled behind his back. Ronnie kept his gaze straight ahead as he shuffled through the door that would take him to the holding room down the hall, and from there to his new home.
“How are you doing?” Jack asked as they gathered up their clutter from the defense table, plastic tubs filled with numbered exhibits, scores of yellow legal pads, highlighters and pens, half-empty water bottles, a box of Kleenex, and several tins of Altoids, which Jill refused to enter the courtroom without.
“Me?” Jill smiled at Jack across the table. “I’m fine.”
“Are you upset about the verdict?”
“Not really,” Jill shrugged. “I expected it.”
“But you worked so hard.”
“I did,” Jill agreed. “But he was guilty, Jack. He robbed that store. How can I be mad when the jury made the right decision? He should have taken the plea.”
“But…” Jack stopped, at a rare loss for words.
“Let me guess, you want to know why I worked so hard if I knew he was guilty, right? Or how I could represent him in the first place?” Jill didn’t wait for Jack’s response, stuffing the last of the legal pads into her battered briefcase with a sigh. “I did it because it’s my job. I can’t go into it thinking about guilt or innocence or what my client deserves, those kind of judgments are beyond me. Everyone’s entitled to a good defense and that’s my job. Fighting for a fair sentence, that’s my job, too. But as far as the verdict, the system usually works the way it’s supposed to, Jack. Innocent men are convicted and guilty men go free, but not as often as people think.”
Jack stared at her and Jill laughed lightly. “Bet you weren’t expecting a speech, were you? I’ve got more where that came from. Someday ask to hear the one on three-strikes laws, it’s a doozy.”
“How do you do it?” Jack asked. “How do you do this job every day?”
Jill looked up at him. “Because I love it. And because I’m one of those pathetic bleeding-hearts who really does believe that everyone deserves a decent defense. Sad, but true.”
“It’s not sad.”
Jill gave a sharp little laugh, different from any sound Jack had heard her make before. “My parents would beg to differ.”
“They don’t like what you do?” Jack couldn’t imagine parents not being proud of a child who’d turned out as well as Jill.
“They thought my internship at Legal Aid during law school was cute. But when I chose it for my “real” job they went through the roof. We still go round and round about it. Turns out their liberal views don’t extend to their daughter defending serial rapists. Go figure.”
“They’re probably just worried about you.”
“Oh, that’s definitely part of it,” Jill acknowledged. “But that’s not all of it.” She hoisted a box of exhibits onto her hip, cursing softly as a handful of folders floated to the floor. “Hey, a few of us are going out for a beer. Want to come?”
“Nah,” Jack shook his head, bending to gather up the spilled exhibits. “I’m beat. I’m going to head home.” He knew Jill’s invitation was genuine, just as the friendly greeting he’d received every morning from the prosecutor and bailiff, the judge and his clerk were truly meant. But he still felt uncomfortable around this courthouse crowd--his own past something they all had experience with from a distance but had never gotten close enough to touch.
The first day he’d shown up here, in his new black slacks and white button down shirt, he’d been terrified, hated the thought of stepping foot in a courtroom again. He only did it for Jill, because she needed help with this trial and she’d promised him it would be three days or less. His anxiety must have shown on his face because Jill had pulled him aside and told him to relax, he wasn’t a defendant anymore. He didn’t know how many of the people working in the courtroom knew his history, but even if they all did, no one acted like it mattered. It still mattered to Jack, though, and he was pretty sure it always would.
“See you on Monday,” Jill said as they parted ways on the courthouse steps, waving with her briefcase. “You did a good job, Jack.”
“Thanks.” Jack smiled. “See you later.”
The St. Patrick’s Day weather had held for close to a week now and Jack took advantage of the unseasonable warmth, getting off the L one stop early to swing by a local sandwich shop for dinner. He got a turkey club to go, knowing the sandwich wasn’t in his budget, but for one night, not caring.
The warmer temperature brought a hint of spring in the air, but the deep twilight pushing in by six o’clock told a different story. Jack let himself into his apartment, already shedding his shirt before he even switched on the living room lamp. Thank god Jill hadn’t made him wear a tie, at least. More comfortable in old jeans and a t-shirt he grabbed a beer and his sandwich, settling himself on the couch to eat. It was so quiet in the room he could hear each crunch of the lettuce, the lonely sounds of his meal shriveling his appetite into nothing.
He knew what he was going to do, had known from the minute he turned down Jill’s invitation for beers. It was one of those nights--he could feel Ennis rising up in him, swamping him with need. He put his plate, complete with half-finished sandwich, down on the floor and lay back on the couch, resting his head on a chenille throw pillow Lureen had picked out a lifetime ago.
He closed his eyes, searching for the right image, trying to decide which one he’d dole out tonight. Only one, that was the most he could handle and the most he could afford to use up. It reminded him of being a kid, when his dad had always received a tiny box of chocolates for Christmas from his sister-in-law. Jack was allowed to have one, just one, and he had to pick carefully because if he chose wrong and ended up with the maple nougat or the raspberry cream that was his own tough luck.
Jack felt like that boy at Christmas as he sifted through his memories, trying to put his fingers on just the right vision for tonight, one he could savor, one that would melt slowly on his tongue like chocolate and caramel, sweet and rich, one that couldn’t be swallowed down too quickly, disappearing in one ravenous gulp.
His mind closed around the memory in a greedy clutch, but Jack slowed himself down, easing his fingers off the vision, letting it unfold slowly. He pictured rolling over, his body limp with sleep and satisfaction, and seeing Ennis’s face above his, those brown eyes warm and peaceful, hearing the faint, almost imagined, snap of snow against the windows. Ennis’s face had been soft and easy that morning after they’d first made love, for once not carrying any weight around his eyes, his mouth loose and relaxed. Whatever else Jack had fucked up between them, he’d done something right that day, because Ennis had been happy, lit up from the inside.
It was a good memory, one that was worth the bittersweet sting of remembering.
**********
Waiting until morning was the smart thing to do, get a decent night’s sleep and head out when the sun was up. But Ennis had spent his whole life doing the smart thing, the safe thing, and now he couldn’t wait for daylight. He wanted to look at his watch in an hour, on the dark and deserted highway, and know he was getting closer to Jack with each ticking second.
He’d waited all week for Colin to call him back, impatience robbing him of appetite, longing stealing his rest. He’d promised himself he’d give Colin five days, one hundred and twenty hours, before he’d simply head to Chicago without any clear plan, just show up on Jack’s doorstep with no idea what he’d do in that strange city. But in the end Colin had come through and Ennis could go to Jack with more than just a wish for their future.
He packed quickly; he didn’t need much. He’d have to come back here soon, no matter what happened. Either to pick up the pieces of this life or to gather his things and move them to his new life with Jack. He didn’t allow himself to think beyond the drive, beyond rolling over the miles separating them. Nine hours, give or take, and he’d see Jack’s face again.
Ennis zipped up his duffel bag and laced up his battered tennis shoes. He stood in the doorway of his apartment for a moment, the moon high and bright through the window.
Going after what he really wanted, reaching for it with both hands, was unfamiliar to Ennis--he’d lived his life waiting patiently for what would come to him.
He’d never imagined, that day Jack had walked away, that part of cleaning up his own life would involve tracking Jack down, convincing him they belonged together. But Ennis’s pride didn’t balk at the thought. He didn’t believe Jack was staying away to hurt him, to try and force Ennis’s hand. Jack had gone because he’d thought it would help Ennis heal. And maybe he’d been right. Ennis’s time alone, missing Jack, forced him to confront truths about himself. But now it was his turn to help Jack heal, to show him that Ennis didn’t regret what had passed between them--that whatever he’d had to give up was more than a fair trade for having Jack Twist in his life. Ennis thought that Jack’s walking away had been a blessing in disguise. By letting go, Jack had freed Ennis to pursue, had forced Ennis to find the courage to follow.
**********
The sun woke Jack before he was ready; he’d planned on sleeping in, taking advantage of his work-free Saturday. He tried putting the pillow over his head, but couldn’t settle back into sleep, the sun hitting right between his bare shoulder blades, heating the skin to an itchy tingle.
“Shit,” Jack muttered, squinting at his bedside clock. Eight o’clock. The “real job” schedule he kept during the week was wreaking havoc with his lazy mornings in bed. He needed to shower and judging from the sorry state of his kitchen, a trip to the grocery store was definitely in order. Maybe this week he’d branch out and get something besides cereal and Hamburger Helper.
When he opened his living room window the breeze hitting his face was warm, ruffling his shower-damp hair. He figured he probably still needed his jacket, the Chicago wind capable of chilling the mildest looking day. As he jogged down the stairs to the front door of his building he sent up a quick prayer that his car was where he’d left it, three blocks away. He hadn’t driven it in over a week, parking in Chicago such a bitch he walked or took the L, if at all possible.
The sun hit Jack’s eyes in a blinding glare as he stepped out onto the sidewalk. He patted his jacket pockets for his sunglasses, too late remembering them sitting on his kitchen counter. Fuck it, he wasn’t going back up four flights of stairs. There was a brown Jeep parked at the curb, its bumper flush against the car in front. Jack smiled to himself, someone was going to be pissed when they woke up and couldn’t move their car because of that Jeep’s tight embrace. He turned left, towards his own car, his rapid pace slowing suddenly…that brown Jeep.
Jack pivoted and stared. He knew that Jeep. He knew that license plate. He’d almost died in that car, he and Ennis both. Ennis.
No, it’s a different Jeep. There are thousands of brown ones just like that. You’re imagining it.
But Jack knew he wasn’t. Because the license plate was the same; Jack never forgot details like that, never forgot details about Ennis. Jack moved closer, peering into the passenger window, seeing nothing but a clean interior. From a distance he heard the faint tinkling of the bell on the door of the corner shop, the one that sold newspapers, stale doughnuts and day-old coffee. Without even looking he knew who had come out of that store. Even from five car lengths away Jack could feel him.
Jack straightened up slowly, almost scared to see, scared that if he turned his head Ennis would disappear, a figment of his starved imagination--the memory he’d dined on the night before not enough to ease his all-consuming hunger, his mind now inventing new ways to feed itself. Jack turned his head, eyes drawn to the tall, lanky man standing on the sidewalk, a styrofoam cup of coffee clutched in his hand, his eyes camouflaged by mirrored shades.
They stared at each other, neither one moving. And then Ennis pulled off his sunglasses, hooking them through the neck of his army green t-shirt, closing the distance between them in long strides. Jack stood frozen in place, his mind clicking off facts in a detached, distant voice: his hair’s a little longer, he’s not smiling, he’s getting closer, the freckles on his nose are darker.
Ennis stopped in front of Jack, his eyes sweeping over Jack’s body then back up to his face, locking there, not moving.
“That coffee sucks,” Jack croaked, because he couldn’t find his voice to ask the important questions, the why and how and what does it mean of Ennis’s presence on this sunny Saturday morning.
Ennis’s mouth curved upwards, the very beginnings of a smile, and then he opened his fingers, the cup thudding down onto the pavement, coffee soaking into the concrete in a blooming stain as the lid gave way.
Their bodies came together hard, the force of Ennis’s lunge driving the air from Jack’s chest, Ennis’s arms wrapping so tight Jack couldn’t find space to breathe, Ennis’s sunglasses sacrificed between them. Jack’s arms curled around Ennis’s back, one hand fisting in Ennis’s hair, threatening to never let go, tugging against the soft waves, feeling their silky magic against his fingers. “Ennis,” Jack whispered, closing his eyes. He smelled just the same and Jack swallowed past a mouth full of tears.
“Jack, Jack,” Ennis’s voice was thick, his lips moving against Jack’s neck. “God…Jack.”
Jack pulled his arms tighter around Ennis’s back. He didn’t know what the future held or why Ennis was there, but for a single endless moment, standing with Ennis in a warm March breeze, Jack had everything he’d ever wanted and he didn’t want to lose his grip.
**********
Ennis wasn’t sure he was going to make it up the stairs; he concentrated on Jack climbing steadily in front of him, ignoring his trembling knees and shaking fingers registering an internal earthquake. He followed Jack down the narrow hall to the apartment at the far end of the building, waiting while Jack fiddled with the multiple inner-city locks.
“Come on in,” Jack said, hoarse and breathless.
The apartment was small and plain, but clean, Jack’s furniture too nice for its new home. Ennis watched as Jack locked the door behind them, bracing himself for Jack’s weight against his body. But Jack skirted his way around Ennis, throwing his jacket onto the couch as he passed. Jack took a seat on the edge of the far windowsill, his eyes on the floor.
The silence between them was laced with tension, the lack of words as loud as any scream. Ennis cleared his throat, moving a little closer to Jack, unsure how to begin; in his imaginings it had all been easier, this awkwardness between them something he’d never anticipated. “I heard you got a job,” he blurted out.
“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “At Legal Aid.”
“How’s it going?”
“Fine. They want me to apply for a paralegal job that’s opening up.”
“That’s great, Jack. That would be really good--”
“What are you doing here, Ennis?” Jack’s voice was flat, cutting Ennis’s words short.
Ennis blinked. “I wanted to see you,” he said finally.
“Why?”
“Why?” Ennis repeated. He felt mired in uncertainty, off-balance since they’d entered the apartment, the atmosphere so different from their greeting on the sidewalk. He recognized the challenge in Jack’s eyes, and Ennis knew he could not back away from it. Just as Jack hadn’t backed away when they’d first discovered each other.
“Yeah, Ennis, why?”
“Because…because I did what you said. I cleaned up my life. I told Alma the truth, I quit my job--”
“I hope you didn’t do all that for me.” Jack grasped the windowsill with white knuckles.
“I--I thought I was doing it for both of us.” Ennis exhaled shakily, running one hand through his hair. “What’s going on? You seem angry that I’m here.”
Jack looked away and Ennis could see how hard he was fighting back his emotions, his throat muscles straining beneath the skin. “What did you expect?”
What had he expected? Jack to fall into his arms and thank him for coming, to be so happy to see him that they could avoid all the tough questions? Yeah, if he was being honest, that was about what he’d envisioned.
“Did you hear I had a new job and think I was a different man? I told you I wanted to be a better person, Ennis, and I meant it. But there’s no quick fix for me. I’m not there yet, not by a long shot.”
“I don’t…I didn’t…” Ennis blew out a tongue-tied breath. Why was this so god damn hard? Why couldn’t he say in words what he held in his heart? Sometimes he felt like words were invented just to keep people from truly expressing themselves, everything he wanted Jack to know, to hope for, stuck in a bottle with a broken cork blocking the neck. “I’m not there yet, either, Jack. I’m just trying to live a more honest life, trying to get my shit together, like we talked about.”
Jack let out a ragged sigh, hiding his face from Ennis. “I hate to break it to you, but I’m still the same fucked up mess I’ve always been. Maybe a little shinier on the outside, but the inside is still an ugly place.” Jack’s words zinged between them like wild bullets, Ennis not sure who or what was the intended target. “Every day I walk home from work, back to this shitty apartment and I pass guys selling crack on street corners and I think about calling him, about asking for my job back. I wonder what he might say if I made that call. I think about it, Ennis, and I probably always will.”
If Jack was trying to scare Ennis away with his words, it wasn’t working. Ennis knew first-hand how hard it was to break away from what seemed safe, what felt familiar and easy. There were still mornings he woke up and wished he wasn’t gay, that he could marry Alma and live that average life he’d planned for himself. And just like Jack, he suspected those thoughts would always be there, almost buried when times were good, working their way to the surface when the going got rough. He took a step towards Jack. “So what if you think about calling Hinestroza. You haven’t actually done it, have you?”
Jack shook his head, his eyes floating back towards the floor.
“We all have our demons, Jack. Yours aren’t worse than anybody else’s.”
“That’s a load of crap, Ennis, and you know it. Look at what you did…because of me. You let Hinestroza walk away. Before me, you would never have done something like that.”
“It doesn’t matter what I would have done before!” Ennis nearly shouted. “Don’t you see? Because by that day in the kitchen I was already a different man. What we found together had already changed me. In a good way, in the best way. It opened my eyes to the life I’d been living. I made the deal with Hinestroza because I had to; there was no other possible choice for me.” Ennis threw up his hands, fishing for some way to make Jack understand, willing to open his soul if that’s what it took. “Do you remember that day on the park bench, when you asked me how I was going to live with letting him go?”
Jack nodded slowly. “Yeah, I remember.”
Ennis caught Jack’s eyes as they tried to glide past. “Well, it turned out living with it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be. Because I realized living without you was the alternative. I wouldn’t change it. Not even if I could.”
“How can you say that?”
“I can say it because you were the trade. Your life. And saving you was worth any price.”
“Ennis…” Jack shook his head, moving to stand against the wall. He wasn’t accepting Ennis’s words and Ennis felt a moment of frustration so huge it threatened to eclipse his hope. What if he couldn’t convince Jack? What if Jack didn’t want to believe?
Then you keep trying, Ennis. You keep trying.
Maybe that was the simple secret, not giving up. Maybe the act of trying itself, refusing to give up on Jack Twist, was the key to having him. Ennis stepped up, right in front of Jack, waiting until Jack met his eyes.
“I want to be with you, Jack.”
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” Jack said quietly. “I walked away. I thought you’d move on, find a way to be happy.”
Ennis stared at him. “Is that what you’re doing? Are you happy now, are you moving on?”
Jack looked away, his face marked with grief. “No. No, I’m not happy…and you’re always on my mind.”
“What makes you think it’s any different for me?”
“I don’t…I still don’t deserve you.” Jack sounded like a starving man turning away from a meal, a tortured man refusing relief, and Ennis understood with a sinking heart that Jack might never stop punishing himself for all that had come before.
Keep trying.
“What makes you think I deserve you, Jack? You think my life was rosy, so fucking perfect before you came along and ruined it? Is that what you think? Well, it wasn’t. I was so god damn lonely and closed off and scared to take a good look at myself. And then you showed me a way it could be different. A way I could be different. And yeah, you’re right, bad things happened, but Jesus, look at all the good there was, too. Can’t you see how good it was? Don’t you remember?”
Ennis’s voice broke and he lowered his head, pressing his thumbs into his closed eyelids, exhausted by the effort of giving voice to what was private within him. “I don’t know if you deserve me or I deserve you. How about we just deserve each other? How about that?” Ennis looked at Jack’s face, those blue eyes huge and alive with longing he was fighting to contain. And Ennis was struck with sudden determination to make it impossible for Jack to turn away, to bind them together by giving Jack the final piece of himself.
Ennis stared into Jack’s eyes, willing him to see the truth and believe in its strength. “I love you, Jack,” he said fiercely. “I love you.”
Jack’s eyelids fluttered down, his hand reaching out blindly to clutch at Ennis’s t-shirt, bunching the cotton in his palm. He didn’t pull Ennis closer, simply held him that way, tight and captive. His fingers and eyes opened at the same moment, his gaze rising to fix on Ennis’s.
“I need you to be sure, Ennis,” Jack said, his voice rough. “Because this is who I am. All the ugly parts of me are here to stay. I’m never going to outrun my past, not all of it. It’s a package deal. So be sure, because this is who I am.”
Ennis leaned forward, bracing his hands on the wall on either side of Jack’s face. “I like who you are. And I like who we are together.” He spoke each word slowly, a promise unfurling between them. Jack’s past, all of it, had made him the man who fit with Ennis the way no other human being ever had, had made him the person that Ennis was meant to be with, the man Ennis was meant to love.
“Can I touch you?” Ennis asked gently. “Because I think I might die if I don’t.”
“Yes.” Jack nodded. “Yes.”
Ennis moved his hands from the wall to cradle Jack’s face, his fingers still dancing a nervous tune. “Jack,” he whispered as he brought his mouth forward, going slow. He wanted to taste and touch, he didn’t want to rush. Jack lips were warm and soft under his, opening to allow his tongue inside, the wet heat of Jack’s mouth wringing a moan from Ennis’s throat.
“I love you,” Jack murmured against Ennis’s lips.
Ennis’s hands moved down Jack’s chest, working their way underneath his shirt, spreading flat across his stomach. “Say it again,” Ennis urged.
He felt Jack smile into his mouth. “I love you, Ennis Del Mar.”
Ennis yanked on Jack’s t-shirt, tugging it over his head, feeling Jack doing the same to his and then they were back against each other, bare skin coming together as their arms clenched tight. “Aahh, god,” Ennis groaned. “You feel so good.”
Jack buried his face in Ennis’s neck, not speaking, his breathing ragged. Ennis pulled back a little, running his fingers down Jack’s chest, pushing Jack away when he tried to touch in return. “Just let me…let me look at you, Jack.”
Jack leaned back against the wall, the breath whistling out of him in stunted gasps as his eyes followed Ennis’s hands down his body. Ennis stopped at the small purple scar on his abdomen, raising questioning eyes.
“My kidney,” Jack explained.
“I thought the scar would be in the back.”
“No, they take it out from the front.”
“Jack…” Ennis dropped down to his knees, his face buried in Jack’s stomach. He wished he could make it all go away, but that would mean he and Jack would not have been, so the pain would have to be part of it, forever a part of them. Ennis ran his fingers along the scar, following the path with his mouth, his hands moving to loosen Jack’s jeans, easing them down over his hips.
When Jack was naked, Ennis sat back on his heels, taking his time looking, letting his eyes have their fill. He’d thought he remembered how beautiful Jack was, but he hadn’t, not really. His latest battle wounds only added to his allure, new paths for Ennis to explore--the scars reminding Ennis of how strong and beautiful Jack was on the inside, where it mattered most of all.
“Come here,” Jack whispered, pulling at Ennis with both hands.
“Wait…” Ennis brought his mouth to Jack’s thigh, licking the old scar the way he’d tried to once before. He felt Jack’s muscles harden under his tongue and held his breath, waiting to see what Jack would allow. But then Jack’s legs spread slightly, the skin softening against Ennis’s mouth as Jack released a sobbing moan that might have been Ennis’s name.
Ennis traveled his way up Jack’s body, leaving a wet path in his wake. When he reached Jack’s mouth again it was demanding, Jack sucking hard against Ennis’s tongue, nipping light vampire kisses along his bottom lip. Jack reached down and took Ennis’s hands in his, walking backwards into the bedroom, pulling Ennis along with him, their mouths never losing contact as they moved.
The small bedroom was sun-dappled, the wind casting tree-branch shadows against the creamy walls. Ennis smiled at Jack’s unmade bed, pillows piled haphazardly on its surface. Jack sat on the edge of the bed, positioning Ennis between his knees. Ennis noticed he wasn’t the only one with uncooperative fingers, Jack’s trembling hands interfering with his task of removing Ennis’s jeans.
Jack finally managed to pull the buttons free, tugging the denim and cotton down together. Ennis stepped out of the puddled material, flinging his jeans and shorts away from the bed with one foot. He looked down at Jack’s bent head, wishing he could see Jack’s face. But Jack was concentrating on other things, running both hands up Ennis’s thighs, his fingers kneading lightly as they moved. He smoothed the back of his fingers over Ennis’s hard length, his thumb flicking against the tip.
“Did you think about me?” Jack asked softly, breaking the silence of their shattered breaths.
“All the time.” Ennis raked his fingers through Jack’s dark hair, tipping his head upward, tracing along the scar hidden beneath Jack’s rough stubble.
“What would you do…when you thought about me?” Jack’s voice was low, almost a growl, and the eyes he raised to Ennis’s revealed a wild and reckless freedom Ennis had never seen there before. But he thought he understood it. They were released, different men than they had been the last time they were together this way--free, at least for now, from the guilt and the fear, the constant worry about what tomorrow would bring.
“I’d close my eyes and remember you. How you looked and smelled. How you tasted.”
“Let me see…” Jack coaxed, “show me what you would do.”
Ennis reached down and wrapped his fingers around himself, pumped his hand slowly, doing this with Jack watching so much more erotic than he could have imagined. He didn’t feel any shame, not for what he was letting Jack see, not for standing naked in the daylight with another man, not for any of it. Jack put his hands on Ennis's hips and moved forward, his lips closing over Ennis. Ennis's slick fingers bumped against Jack's mouth as he fisted his hand up and down, increasing the pace as Jack sucked harder.
“Christ...” Ennis gasped. He pulled his hand away and Jack took more of him into his mouth, causing Ennis’s hips to thrust forward, his orgasm thundering into view. “Jack…stop,” he cried, tangling his fingers violently in Jack’s hair. “Stop…”
Jack withdrew slowly, his eyes catching Ennis’s as he slid out from between Jack’s lips. Ennis leaned forward with a growl, knocking Jack back onto the bed, landing across his body with a muffled groan. Before Jack could move Ennis reached between them, taking Jack in his hand, doing to Jack what he’d just done to himself. Jack whimpered low in his throat, twisting his face into the hollow of Ennis’s neck.
“I like touching you better,” Ennis panted.
Jack moved his head so they could look at each other. “I don’t know,” he teased breathlessly, his hips bucking against Ennis’s hand. “It was pretty sexy watching you do that. You’ll have to do it all the way some day.”
“We’ve got time,” Ennis said, his hand stilling, his eyes serious on Jack’s. “Lots of time.”
Jack reached up and ran his finger along Ennis’s jaw in his old, familiar way, the heat from his touch tunneling under Ennis’s skin, racing along his nerve endings, sending joy to every corner of his heart. “I want you inside me,” Jack murmured, his finger still stroking against Ennis’s cheek.
Ennis’s stomach flew to his throat, crashing back down just as fast, making him dizzy with desire. But before they went any farther, he had to know one thing. “Have you…have you been with anyone…?” He tried to keep his voice neutral, his eyes pinned to the rumpled sheets, thinking maybe the answer wouldn’t hurt so much if he didn’t see Jack say it.
Jack tugged lightly against Ennis’s chin, waiting until Ennis lifted his eyes. “No,” he said evenly. “I haven’t slept with anyone since you.”
Ennis smiled, relief he couldn’t contain pounding through him. “I haven’t either.” Telling Jack something he probably already knew.
Jack smiled back, that wide grin that Ennis had been waiting for since the moment they’d seen each other on the sidewalk. The one that made Ennis wish they could have back every second they’d been apart.
Jack rolled Ennis over onto his back, reaching across his chest to fumble on the nightstand. He squirted lotion into his hand, heating it in his circling palms before he smoothed it on Ennis in long, smooth strokes. Ennis arched his back against the bed, closing his eyes and chewing on the inside of his cheek, fighting for control. He felt the cool lotion in his own hand, rubbed it against his fingers as Jack straddled his body.
Ennis opened his eyes and reached down, pushing into Jack with one finger, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face. “More…” Jack demanded and Ennis complied, a second finger joining the first, Jack’s guttural moan making Ennis’s hips jerk against the bed.
Ennis pulled his hand away, leveraging himself up to sitting, Jack resting on his thighs. “Like this…I want to be able to kiss you.”
“Yeah…” Jack leaned forward, his mouth gentle and soft, but his tongue making different demands. “This way.”
Jack lifted himself up and then lowered back down, slowly drawing Ennis into his body. “Oh, god…” Jack moaned, when Ennis was all the way inside, his hands gripping Ennis’s shoulders. “I missed you, Ennis. Missed feeling you...”
Ennis groaned, his breath hitching in his chest. The pleasure of having Jack again and the pain of knowing what they’d almost lost knotted the air in his lungs, his breathing labored and full of sorrow. He rested his forehead against Jack’s, felt Jack’s hands rubbing, drawing light circles on his back. “It’s all right, baby,” Jack soothed. “It’s all right.”
“It’s just so much more…” Ennis choked out, trying to explain what he couldn’t put into words, hoping Jack would understand. “It’s so much more than I ever thought I’d have.”
“I know…” Jack’s voice was burdened with tears. “I know.”
Ennis felt Jack’s tender kisses against his closed eyelids, gentle fingers running along his eyebrows and then Jack was moving on him in the rhythm they’d found so easily in the past, their bodies remembering the way of it as if they’d never been apart, as if they’d only been waiting to find each other again.
**********
“Turn over,” Ennis mumbled, his lips tickling the hair on Jack’s chest.
Jack looked down at him with raised eyebrows and Ennis made a rolling motion with his hand. “Onto your side,” he prompted.
Jack didn’t want to move, his body heavy with sleep and satisfaction, but he turned onto his side, his back facing Ennis.
“Ahhh,” Ennis breathed, like a man who’d just discovered buried treasure, his fingers stroking lightly against Jack’s snake tattoo.
Jack laughed, bringing one foot back to rub against Ennis’s calf. “I’m going to start thinking you only want me for that tattoo.”
“Not true,” Ennis rumbled against his skin. “But it’s still about the god damn sexiest thing in the world.”
Jack flipped over onto his back again, so he could see Ennis’s face. He didn’t know if now was the time to continue speaking truths, but he wanted them to start out honest, to not shy away from the hard questions and the even harder answers. “You said you told Alma about us.”
The playfulness faded out of Ennis’s eyes. “Yeah, I did.”
“What did she say?”
Ennis lowered himself down next to Jack, finding Jack’s fingers between them and squeezing tight. “She said she’d wasted five years of her life on me. She wanted to know if I would have ever told her the truth…about being gay.”
“Would you have?” Jack asked quietly.
“I don’t know. Probably not. I probably would have just kept stringing her along, or eventually I would have married her and pretended to be happy. I know she’s better off now, with a chance to find somebody who will really love her, but I still feel guilty about all of it.”
“You wouldn’t be human if you didn’t feel bad, Ennis.” Jack rubbed his thumb over Ennis’s knuckles. “What about your job?”
Ennis sighed heavily but no part of him pulled away. “I knew it was time for me to leave. I couldn’t do that job anymore. Colin suggested I find something else and I agreed with him. It started to go bad for me even before I met you, Jack. Finding you only sped up the inevitable.”
Jack shifted sideways to prop his head up on one hand. “Have you found a new job?”
Ennis shook his head. “Not yet. But I have an interview next week with a firm that handles private investigations. The investigators are primarily ex-FBI Agents, they take all kinds of cases, from the little domestic stuff to overflow from big court cases, both prosecution and defense. Colin recommended me for the job.”
“Is that something you want to do?”
“The smaller cases don’t sound like my type of thing. But some of the bigger ones, they could be interesting.”
Jack kissed the hard knob of Ennis’s shoulder bone. “I hate to see you settle for something.”
“Who gets everything they want, Jack, exactly how they want it? You have to decide the most important thing and go from there.”
“Where is this job?” Jack asked, his stomach clenched in anticipation. He knew in his heart that sacrifices would have to be made if he and Ennis wanted to be together, but he didn’t know if he was ready to pull up stakes again, everything felt too new and raw for him to start over.
“Here,” Ennis said, meeting his eyes. “In Chicago.”
“Do you…do you even like this city? Do you want to live here?”
Ennis shrugged lightly. “I like Chicago fine. I’ve only been here a couple of times before. But you’re settled here, Jack, so I think this is where we should be, at least for now. You have a good job, right? Why mess with that?”
Jack smiled. “Well, depends on your definition of good. If by good you mean nice people, interesting work, then yeah, it’s good. If you mean a paycheck big enough to cover the rent, then no.”
“I meant a job you like, one you’re happy with.” Ennis’s voice was serious. “And you must be doing well or they wouldn’t want you to apply for the paralegal position.”
“Jill, the attorney I do most of my work for, seems happy with me. She thinks I’d be good at the paralegal job. And it’s more money, more responsibility.”
“So you’re going to apply for it?”
“I don’t know…probably.”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Ennis asked, his brow furrowed.
Jack knew Ennis would never fully understand his hesitation, his fear that reaching for something more only set him up to fail, like daring fate to slap his hand for wanting a better life. It was the same fear that had caused him to lash out at Ennis this morning, the terror of disappointment, of not living up to expectations, pouring out as anger. It was a fear Jack knew he would have to conquer alone, but having Ennis beside him made him long to take the chance, made him feel strong enough to ask for more than life had given him so far.
“A male paralegal…isn’t that kind of like a male nurse?” Jack was only half-joking. “It just seems kind of weird.”
“Oh, Jesus.” Ennis rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe I’m in love with such a fucking idiot.”
Jack moved swiftly, pinning Ennis to the bed with his full weight, groaning helplessly when their naked bodies came together. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, forcing his hips to stop their slow glide against Ennis’s. “I’m glad you came here,” he said, stroking Ennis’s face gently. “I’m glad you came to find me.”
Ennis’s eyes clouded over a little. “I wasn’t sure. You didn’t seem happy at first.”
Jack ducked his head down, resting his forehead on Ennis’s collarbone. “It’s always going to be hard for me, Ennis. Not hard to believe in us. But to believe in me. But I’m trying, I’ll keep trying.”
“How do you feel about me?” Ennis whispered against Jack’s hair.
Jack inhaled roughly. “I love you.”
“Is it strong?” As he spoke, Ennis ran a warm hand down Jack’s back.
“God…yes,” Jack breathed, feeling that strength, that bond, that love for Ennis in all parts of himself--his heart, his mind, his body, his soul.
“Look at me,” Ennis said, and Jack did, tilting his face until his chin rested on Ennis’s shoulder. “That’s how I feel about you, Jack. Just as strong, just as real, and it’s not going to change.”
“So we’re in this together.” Jack’s voice shook but he didn’t look away.
Ennis smiled, his eyes calm and steady. “Yeah, Jack Twist, we’re in this together.”
**********
“Okay, seriously, you guys, shut up! I’m trying to give a toast!” Jill’s voice carried beyond their corner booth, causing the bartender across the room to glance in her direction with an indulgent smile.
“I think that bartender likes you,” Jack noted, pointing with his beer bottle.
Jill glanced over her shoulder. “Christ, Jack, he has a mullet! I’m not that god damn desperate.”
Jack laughed mid-swallow, threatening to snort beer out of his nose.
“Attractive,” Jill said dryly, shooting Ennis a look. “I don’t know how you put up with him.”
Ennis smiled, pushing Jack’s knee with his own. Jill tapped hard against her wine glass with a fork. “Okay, everybody raise your glasses, come on, come on,” she urged. “To Jack, our newest paralegal.”
“Hear, hear!” Ellis called, clinking his glass against Jack’s.
“Way to go!” Taylor hooted from across the table. “You’re going to do great, Jack.”
The ring of faces around the table were all smiling, cheeks flushed from one too many beers, the rising laughter drowning out the warbling juke box. It felt good to be sitting here, among the people he thought of as his friends. Jack felt a finger brush against his hand, underneath the table. He glanced down and then up, catching Ennis’s eye.
“Congratulations, Jack,” Ennis said solemnly, but his eyes were smiling. “You are now the legal equivalent of a male nurse.”
“Shut up, asshole,” Jack laughed, threading his fingers through Ennis’s where no one could see. No one at the table would care, but Ennis was still skittish in public, he usually didn’t touch Jack unless they were alone. But tonight he held Jack’s hand and moved it onto his thigh, his warm leg heating Jack’s fingers.
Jill smiled at Jack from across the table as she looked from him to Ennis and back again, raising her wine glass in a tiny private toast. “Hey, Ellis,” she said. “Tell Ennis the story about that asshole FBI Agent we worked with on the Compton case, remember that guy?”
“Oh, Jesus,” Ennis protested, leaning forward to rest his free elbow on the table. “Haven’t you already told me that one, Jill? I’m pretty sure--”
“Ellis tells it better,” Jill grinned.
Ennis sighed good-naturedly, giving Jack a smile over his shoulder. Jack had a moment of déjà vu when he saw Ennis’s face, happy, glowing, like it had been that very first time they’d made love in the snow-shrouded apartment, like it had been on so many days since they’d come together again.
You’re doing that, Jack. You’re making him happy.
Ellis’s deep voice floated into Jack’s ears, but he wasn’t listening to the story, his mind hearing different words from Ellis’s lips: That’s the best you can hope for, Jack. That your life turns out like that patchwork quilt. That you can add some bright, sparkling pieces to the dirty, stained ones you’ve got so far.
Jack wondered what Ennis’s quilt looked like, and thought maybe, just maybe, he was the brightest spot on Ennis’s fabric, just as Ennis glowed golden starlight on Jack’s. It was hard to believe that Jack Twist, with all his faults and failings, could still be the most beautiful piece of Ennis’s patchwork. But Jack thought it might be true, and that vision was something he could believe in, more than words or promises--he could believe in the light he saw in Ennis when they were together, the spark they created all on their own. And he could feel it inside of himself, too, the tiny flicker growing with each day he spent next to Ennis Del Mar.
But Jack knew he still carried his darkness and it would never go quietly, always waiting for its moment, whispering of other choices in the cold hours of night, beckoning Jack with a traitor’s fingers--the same way Ennis was too quiet some days, avoiding Jack’s eyes, and Jack understood he was mourning for the life that was no longer his. But so far their love had proved deeper than their doubt, their faith in each other more unshakeable than the fear. And Jack was starting to have hope that when his darkness came round again, he would not linger in the shadows but find strength enough to step into the light. |
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| Shades of Grey--Chapter Seventeen |
[Dec. 14th, 2006|10:14 am] |
| [ | mood |
| |  giddy | ] |
Author: midwest-girl (Amy)
Disclaimer: Once again, I did not create these characters. They are the work of Annie Proulx and I am just riding her coat tails.
Rating: NC-17 for the story as a whole.
Synopsis: Oh boy, that's a tough one. Let's just say this is a modern AU!AU told from both Jack's and Ennis's points of view. I hope those of you who enjoyed "If I Asked" will give this story a chance. It has a darker setting and mood than IIA, but please keep in mind that I love J/E and want only the best for them....
Author's Note: A huge thank-you to my betas, Christina, Judy, and CYN. I couldn't do this without you all. And a special thanks to Kumari...just because...you know why.
Feedback: I would love any and all feedback and please know it is truly appreciated.
Chapter Seventeen
Ellis Campbell had been using the same desk for fourteen years and it showed. Jack had volunteered to empty out the lower right-hand desk drawer and so far he’d thrown more stuff into the trashcan than into the banker’s box Ellis had placed on his chair.
“I thought you were neat,” Jack commented, pointing to the clean desk-top Ellis took such pride in.
“I am. It all goes in that drawer.”
Jack smiled, shaking his head as he tossed a mangled paper clip chain into the trash. The drawer was filled with junk, reminding Jack of the kitchen drawer in his own apartment where miscellaneous crap went to die. Jack fished out four staplers from under a pile of ancient telephone books and lined them up on the desk. “Are you going to miss this place?”
“Sure. I’ve been here for a long time. It will be strange to wake up and not have anywhere I’m supposed to be,” Ellis said, heaving himself up with a steadying hand on Jack’s shoulder.
“Hey, Jack, can you come in here for a minute?” Jill called, her voice carrying easily across the narrow hall.
“I’ll be right back.” Jack wiped his dusty hands on the seat of his jeans as he picked his way gingerly across Jill’s landmine of a floor. “What’s up?”
Jill pointed to a three-inch-thick stack of paper perched on the corner of her desk. “I need you to read these cases and give me a memo on them. I want to know if any of them are helpful on the Miller suppression issue.” Just as Jack had predicted, Jill had lost the battle to keep the gun out of evidence at the Miller suppression hearing, but she wasn’t conceding the war.
Jack picked up the cases, testing their weight in his hands. Jill hadn’t asked him to do anything like this before. “I’ve never read a case,” Jack reminded her.
“Oh…yeah.” Jill bit her bottom lip as she scanned her crowded workspace. “Ah…there it is.” She tossed him a Black’s Law Dictionary. “You can look up any words you’re not familiar with in here.”
Jack didn’t move, his eyes on Jill’s shiny hair as she returned to her work, head bent over whatever she was reading. “Jill? Maybe somebody else should do this. I mean, I never even went to college, I’m not sure--”
“You’re smart, Jack. You’ll figure it out.” Jill didn’t even look up, not giving him any room to argue or back away, expecting more from him than he would ever have dared to expect from himself.
Jack returned to his desk, stopping for another cup of coffee first, bitter black sludge they made every morning in the small kitchen at the back of the building. As nasty as the stuff was, he figured this assignment required more than his usual dose of caffeine. He sat down and took the first case off the pile, his heart hammering in his throat the way it had sometimes in the early days with Hinestroza, the fear of fucking up a looming giant breathing hot fire down his neck.
After a solid hour of reading Jack’s brain hurt, his mind so overtaxed he swore the roots of his hair were throbbing with the effort of trying to make sense of the words in front of him. He’d made it through one page. One page of a seventy-page Supreme Court opinion. And if anyone asked him what he’d just read he wouldn’t have the faintest idea what to tell them. The pure hell of it made him want to punch something--couldn’t these fucking people speak English? He’d never felt so stupid or out of his element.
Jack tossed down his highlighter, blowing out angry puffs of air, fighting his body’s urge to simply slam out the door without looking back. He didn’t need this shit…
“I see she’s got you reading cases,” Ellis said from across the room, his voice mild.
Jack looked over his shoulder. “Yeah.”
“It’s hard, I know. Took me a long time before I could figure out what they were saying.”
“I think I’m giving up,” Jack said, rubbing his forehead.
“Nah,” Ellis chided. “You’ve barely started. Keep at it. By the end of this week it’ll be easier.”
Jack couldn’t imagine it would ever get easier, any of it--being the dumbest one in the room instead of the man Hinestroza counted on to help run things; being so poor he couldn’t afford a pizza instead of having money to blow on motorcycles and leather jackets; being alone instead of with Ennis…Ennis who never left Jack’s thoughts, only circling above when Jack was busy, landing with a life-consuming thud the moment Jack let down his guard.
“I won’t make it to the end of the week.”
Something in Jack’s voice gave Ellis pause. He stopped packing up his desk and crossed to Jack’s chair. “She believes you can do this, Jack, otherwise she wouldn’t ask. Jill doesn’t waste her time, you know that.”
“I know,” Jack sighed. “But why me? There have to be people here who can do this in their sleep.”
Ellis clucked his tongue impatiently. “Because she wants you to see what you can do. You’re not here to get coffee and staple papers. She wants you to use your brain.” Ellis tapped his own temple in demonstration. “Keep at it,” Ellis repeated, this time not urging but commanding.
“Okay,” Jack agreed wearily. “But how about a five minute break first?”
Ellis nodded. “Let’s make use of those young arms of yours. Come on and help me carry a couple of these boxes to my car.”
The bright sunshine when they opened the back door was deceiving, failing to cancel out the bitter late-January wind that swirled around Jack’s head, turning the tips of his ears to numb bands of flesh within seconds. “Damn,” he muttered, as they hurried to Ellis’s car.
Jack deposited the boxes into Ellis’s trunk and stuffed his frozen hands into his pockets, waiting as Ellis slammed the trunk lid.
“Ellis…who did you kill?” Jack blurted out, his curiosity finally getting the best of him now that it was Ellis’s last week at the Legal Aid office before his retirement--Jack’s time for answers running short.
Ellis shot Jack a look he couldn’t decipher, his steps falling in time with Jack’s as they turned away from the car. “How long have you been wanting to ask me that?”
Jack shrugged. “For awhile.”
“Not many people have the guts to ask flat-out like that.” Ellis hunched his shoulders against the wind. “It was my wife…I killed my wife,” he said after a heavy beat of silence.
Jack drew in a sharp breath. “What happened?”
“We were both really young, messed-up kids, not even close to being adults, not in any way that counted. I was a junkie when I could afford it, an alcoholic when I couldn’t. Just bull-dozing my way through my life and through my marriage. We had one of those relationships that’s doomed from the first moment you lay eyes on each other.” Ellis let out a strangled sigh. “I came home drunk and drugged up and she wasn’t in much better shape. We started fighting… To this day I can’t remember what the fight was about.” Ellis’s voice sounded old for the first time since Jack had met him.
“Christ,” Jack murmured.
“I was sorry the second it happened, couldn’t believe I’d done it. But it was too late by then. Too late to change any of it.”
Ellis held open the back door of the building and they both ducked inside, escaping the stinging cold. Ellis didn’t head straight for their office, instead leaning up against the wall, his eyes on Jack.
“Do you ever…” Jack looked down at his feet, shifting nervously from side to side. “Do you ever think about her, what she would think knowing you’ve got a life now when you took hers away?”
Ellis smiled, a small, pained curve of his lips. “All the time, son, all the time. But her forgiveness is something I’ll never have. Probably don’t deserve it anyway.” Ellis’s voice dropped, low and soothing. “What do you want to hear, Jack? That someday you’re going to be able to look in the mirror and not see every bad thing you’ve ever done, every mistake you’ve made, staring right back at you?”
Jack’s eyes met Ellis’s across the small hall, he could feel the pleading in his own without even needing to see. “Cause that’s not going to happen,” Ellis said bluntly, not softening the words. “It’s always our mistakes, the things we aren’t proud of, that are the first ones to stand up, ready to be counted. That’s human nature and it’s not going to change, not for me or for you, either.”
“Then what’s the point?” Jack demanded. “What’s the point of trying to do anything different?”
Ellis took off his glasses, hiking his sweater up to polish them with the white t-shirt he wore underneath. “The point is…” his voice trailed off, his eyes focused somewhere distant, like he was trying to pull a memory out of a thick fog. “It’s like this old patchwork quilt my momma used to have. It came from her grandma or maybe her
great-grandma, I can’t remember, anyway it was sort of a family scrapbook, I guess. Each piece on that quilt meant something. And some of those pieces were the damn ugliest things you’ve ever seen, old brown corduroy worn to the nub or stained pieces of cotton you wouldn’t want to use as a rag to clean your bathroom floor. But some of the pieces were so beautiful they almost hurt my eyes to look at when I was a kid. White silk from a wedding dress or the red velvet from a baby’s first Christmas coat.” Ellis paused, perching his glasses back on his nose. “That’s the best you can hope for, Jack. That your life turns out like that patchwork quilt. That you can add some bright, sparkling pieces to the dirty, stained ones you’ve got so far. That in the end the bright patches might take up more space on your quilt than the dark ones.” Ellis stared at Jack, making sure he was listening. “That’s the point, son.”
When Ellis had started talking Jack had almost tuned him out; he didn’t see what a quilt had to do with the question he was asking. But the thing was, as he listened, he could see his quilt, the inky black and bruised purple patches, spreading out like some dark and treacherous ocean. But tucked in among all that swallowing darkness there was a tiny speck of silver, from an essay contest he’d won in tenth grade, so proud of his cheap plastic plaque; a small crimson patch from those first months with Lureen when her laugh had sparkled with joy; a crisp flash of yellowy-green that marked his friendship with Dane; and the brightest piece of all, shimmering golden silk threaded with starlight…Ennis.
“I think I understand,” Jack said quietly.
Ellis nodded, reaching out and patting Jack’s shoulder with a gentle hand. “Come on. Time to get back to your cases.”
**********
Jack had made it through a whopping ten pages of the Supreme Court case when he finally hung it up for the night at nine o’clock. He was the only one left in the building; Jill had given him her key to lock up with when she’d left at seven. Jack turned off lights as he went, making sure the coffee maker was unplugged and the back door was locked before he left through the main entrance.
His stomach was gnawing at him as he fought the wind towards the L station, reminding him he’d skipped dinner. He mentally reviewed what he had at home in his kitchen, resigned to the fact that it was probably going to be another cereal night, unless he went all out and made himself some macaroni and cheese.
“Hey…you,” a voice called from a shadowy doorway as he passed.
Jack glanced to his left, his eyes picking up a lanky figure beckoning him closer. Jack continued walking, hoping to make it to the L station just as a train pulled in, he wasn’t in the mood to wait tonight.
“Hey, you want anything? I got some good stuff,” the doorway-lurker urged, leaving his position to walk alongside Jack, his smile revealing a row of rotted teeth, endless black sinkholes in the moonlight.
“No, not interested,” Jack responded, keeping up his quick clip until he left the man behind on his patch of sidewalk.
Jack wasn’t tempted to buy any drugs, that had never been his weakness. But he felt like an addict all the same, shot through with sharp, electric cravings when his thoughts turned to walking into his cold, quiet apartment at the end of this long day…his fingers itching to make the call. Dial the number he still had memorized and probably always would; his insurance against the future, his own dark and terrible safety net. Maybe Hinestroza would be glad to hear from him. Maybe he could fall right back into the slot he used to occupy, all these months just a hiccup in his rightful life. There would be such relief in being the Jack he knew so well, the one who let people down and didn’t have a future and knew exactly what tomorrow held because it was never anything better than the day that had come before.
But it was harder to disappoint people when they expected something of you, expected more from you than to show them your worst around every turn. Jack didn’t want to betray Jill’s trust, her matter-of-fact faith that he had it inside of him to change. And if he returned to his old life, what would that say to Ennis about the sacrifice he’d made--that he’d given up everything for a man who didn’t give a damn, a man who, after everything they’d been through, would still choose Hinestroza and a life in the shadows.
Jack stomped his feet against the concrete platform, trying to keep warm as he waited for his train, listening for the distant rumble that would carry him home. He wanted to make a promise, to himself, to Ennis, to Jill, that he would never make that call, never jump into that safety net riddled with ragged holes. But such a promise felt too big for him, beyond what he was capable of giving, its very vastness making Jack feel smothered and weighed down with leaden expectations. So, instead, he blew into his cupped hands, heating his icy fingers with steamy breaths, and swore that at least for tonight he would not disappoint anyone who was trying so hard to believe in him. He’d go home, eat his solitary dinner and fall into bed. And his phone would remain in his pocket, silent and dark. Not tonight, he vowed, just not tonight.
**********
Ennis’s right hook connected with a dull thud, the impact traveling up his arm to explode in his shoulder. He ignored the throb, struck out again, harder this time, grunting when his fist connected.
“Shit, Ennis, you working out or trying to kill that bag?”
Ennis wiped a forearm across his sweat-streaked brow. “I took too much time off from this place,” he told Marty, the manager of the gym where Ennis had worked out regularly before Jack. Marty had owned this place for years and as far as Ennis could tell he’d never put a cent into the dump beyond installing two boxing rings, a dozen bags and a couple of run-down treadmills that no one ever used. If you wanted a massage or herbal tea, you went elsewhere. “I’ve got to get back into the swing of it.”
“Fair enough. But don’t break your fist while you’re at it.”
Ennis gave Marty what passed for a smile these days and went back to punching the bag. He wondered what exactly he was trying to get back into the swing of--his old life, his hiding from the world, his guilt?
He’d had such high hopes for himself that night with Alma, as though one moment of courage would reverse a lifetime of cowardice. And what a fucking joke that turned out to be, because since that night he’d not taken one more step forward, had let his mess sit untouched and filthy while life went on without him…while Jack went on without him. Just that thought alone warranted a half-dozen hard hits to the bag, sweat flying from Ennis’s hair as he bared his teeth through the pain.
Virtually every part of his life was in limbo. He’d been on administrative leave for months now. He knew Bradshaw was dragging out the investigation as a form of punishment because although he could feel that there was something more to the story of Jack Twist and Ennis Del Mar, he couldn’t put his hands on it. Since official censure would likely not be coming, Bradshaw was handing down his own vigilante sentence.
And Bradshaw had been running his mouth, too, Ennis was convinced. The few times he’d been to the office the other agents had given him a wide berth, everyone looking at him with wary eyes, pity just below the surface of their smiles. He still wasn’t sure he wanted his job back, but he felt stuck in place, his FBI badge a form of concrete shoes he wasn’t sure how to shed.
Late at night, lying alone in the dark, aching for Jack, he couldn’t see what the point was in making a change. Jack was gone, wasn’t he? He wasn’t coming back, so couldn’t Ennis just hunker down where he was and wait out his life--hope to stay below the radar? He was starting to think Jack had been the essential component of his strength, that he’d used up all that strength in one big bang--his honesty with Alma--and had nothing left over to complete the task. Without Jack to steady his heart, hold it safe in his hands, all Ennis’s steely resolve had blown away like smoke through a clenched fist. He needed Jack to help him believe, in himself, in them. The irony of it being Jack who’d taught Ennis about belief, when Jack was unable to believe himself, did not escape Ennis’s notice--life loved those cruel, cold-water-in-the-face lessons.
Ennis stopped for a few groceries on the way home, knocking back a bottle of Gatorade on the short walk from his car to his building’s fire escape. He was already at a loss as to how he was going to fill the long hours until night, watching TV and staring at a book without reading having both lost their allure weeks ago. When he turned the corner of the building he found Colin waiting against the metal railing, his eyes hidden behind his own pair of mirrored shades.
“Hi,” Ennis said cautiously. “What are you doing here?”
Colin pulled off his shades, tucking them into the interior pocket of his suit jacket. “Bradshaw closed the investigation. You were cleared of any wrongdoing.” Colin’s voice was heavy, relief absent in his tone. “We need to talk.”
“Okay.” Ennis led the way, Colin’s footsteps clanging behind him on the steps, shushing lightly at his heels as they walked down the carpeted hall. Ennis unlocked his front door and tossed his keys onto the table, gesturing Colin towards a seat while he put his milk and beer in the fridge.
Colin sat down on the sofa nearest the door. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands. He looked like he was steeling himself for something unpleasant and Ennis’s stomach contracted into a small, cold ball. “Have you talked to Jack Twist lately?” Colin asked finally.
Ennis’s whole body jerked, nothing he could control, his insides reacting to the sound of Jack’s name like a beehive poked with a stick, the nerve endings under his skin buzzing with anticipation. “No.” He paused, sitting down across from Colin. “Why?”
“I heard he’s in Chicago. He got a job at Legal Aid.”
Ennis’s head snapped up. Chicago. “What kind of job?”
Colin shrugged. “Part of some grant. He helps out around the office, I don’t know any details.”
“How did you find out?”
“Patterson. She’s the one who recommended him for the job, through his probation officer.”
“Patterson,” Ennis repeated, dumbfounded. He wouldn’t have been more shocked if Colin had told him Bradshaw was responsible for Jack’s new employment. Now that Ennis’s eyes were opening to the infinite variations within people who seemed so one-dimensional on the surface, he wondered if he’d ever stop being surprised by them, by their capacity for conflicting emotions and deeds. “Well, I guess she owed him,” Ennis said, “after cutting him loose the way she did.”
“Could be she did you a favor when she cut him loose,” Colin said, his voice low and intense.
“What?” Ennis asked in surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“You tell me,” Colin said, pointing at Ennis with a stabbing finger and Ennis realized exactly how angry Colin was, how hard he was pulling back on his own fury. “If we had gone ahead to trial would Twist have made it off the witness stand without being ripped to shreds? I know something was going on between you two, Ennis. Christ, Bradshaw never even saw you and Jack in the same room together and he knew it, too. You think any defense attorney worth a shit wasn’t going to be able to sniff that out in under five minutes? Give me a fucking break.”
“Colin, I--”
“So just lay off Patterson, would you? Because the Hinestroza case was sunk long before she fucked over Jack. What the hell were you thinking?”
Ennis slumped back on the sofa and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, hard. This felt different from facing Alma, worse in some way he couldn’t define. People cheated on their lovers every day, screwed up their relationships, maybe not because they were gay, but still… But putting your own desires ahead of justice, that was embracing a darkness he hadn’t known lived within him.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen. We just…the feelings were real, Colin.” Ennis spoke against his wrists, his eyes still hidden behind his hands.
“I don’t care if he was the god damn love of your life! You threw away years of work, Ennis, and not just your own efforts.”
Ennis pulled in a deep breath, the air stinging in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he managed. He almost laughed at how pathetic it sounded. “I know you’ve been covering for me.”
Colin’s face softened slightly. “I don’t want to be a jackass about this. But the bottom line is you got involved with an informant, a witness. You got involved. And that cannot happen. I don’t think there’s any way back from a mistake like that.”
And that, right there, was the crux of the matter--beyond the ethical implications of having sex with a witness, Ennis’s professional detachment had been forever compromised, the detachment that was essential, vital, to being an effective agent. Ennis’s ability to remove himself had been starting to slip before Jack, but it had been gone for good the first time he’d touched Jack with more than professional distance, maybe had been gone the first time he’d looked into those wide blue eyes and seen his own reflection.
“I don’t think the FBI is where you belong anymore,” Colin said, his voice tired. “And I think you know it, too.”
“Am I being fired?” Ennis asked, meeting Colin’s eyes.
“No. But do the right thing here, Ennis…please.”
“It’s hard,” Ennis said quietly. “Hard to walk away from the job, even when you know it’s not the place for you.”
“You were a good agent, Ennis, damn good. But sometimes life gets in the way of the job and you have to make a choice. I think you made yours, now you’ve got to follow it through.”
“Are you going to tell Bradshaw?”
“No. If I thought it was going to make a difference in the Hinestroza case I already would have. But telling him doesn’t change anything, it only gets us both in trouble.” Colin sighed heavily. “They expect you at work Monday. Why don’t you come back for a little while, just until you figure out what you’re going to do. They won’t assign you to anything major at first, so that gives you a window.”
Ennis nodded. “Okay.”
Colin looked back down at his hands, his fingers lacing together and then apart. “Ennis…why aren’t you with Jack? I know you well enough to know you’re not a guy who acts on a whim. You said what you felt for him was real, you put your whole career on the line for him, so why the hell aren’t you with him?”
Ennis turned his face away, looking out the ceiling-high windows. It had started snowing in the minutes since they’d come inside, fat, lazy flakes taking their sweet time falling from the sky--one more reminder of Jack. “Something happened, that day with Madrigal,” Ennis voice sounded hazy, and far away, as though he were outside in the snow, speaking through the winter-cold panes of glass. “Hinestroza was--”
“No!” Colin said loudly. “No. Don’t tell me that!”
Ennis’s eyes moved back to Colin, taking in the thumping vein in his temple, his hands laced again, the knuckles tight with tension. “The time for telling me that has come and gone, Ennis. It’s too late. What can I do with something like that now?” Colin demanded. “I don’t want to know! Jesus!”
Ennis thinned his lips against the urge to keep talking, to speak the truth in the hope that Colin would say he’d made the right decision, that Ennis’s choice had been the one any man would have made. But like so much of what had passed between Jack and him, this was their secret, their burden to share and the weight couldn’t be shouldered by an outsider.
“All right,” Ennis nodded, “all right. I’ll be at work on Monday.”
“Fine.” Colin stood up slowly, shoving his hands into his pockets as Ennis walked him to the door.
“Thanks for what you did,” Ennis said quietly. “I know you risked a lot.”
Colin glanced at Ennis over his shoulder, gave him a sharp nod. And Ennis understood his friendship with Colin had come to an end.
**********
The back door banged loudly as Jack let himself out into the mild, night air. According to the calendar it was still winter, but they’d gotten lucky this St. Patrick’s Day and the temperature was hovering somewhere in the fifties, even this close to midnight. Jesus, he was tired all of a sudden. Earlier today they’d tromped all the way down Michigan Avenue to the bridges over the river, just to watch dirty, fake green water rush by. At the time it had seemed like a good idea--that’s what five beers with lunch will do to you.
Jack lowered himself to the steps, digging his cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. The party was still going full swing inside; Lauren, one of the attorneys from work, and her husband inaugurating their new house in appropriate Irish style.
The door behind Jack opened swiftly, banging into his back. “Shit,” he griped, scooting forward as Jill inched out.
“Sorry.” Jill sighed as she plopped down next to him, holding out her hand for a drag.
“I didn’t know you smoked.” Jack passed over his cigarette, which she inhaled with gusto.
“I don’t really. Not since college. But it’s like riding a bike.”
Jack laughed, leaning his elbows on the step behind him. “Pretty rowdy crowd in there. Somehow I expected a more sedate party from a bunch of attorneys.”
“Nah, get a bunch of lawyers together with some booze and all hell breaks loose.” Jill passed him back his cigarette, curling forward with her arms around her jean-clad knees. “Did you hear Taylor got into law school?”
“Yeah, she told me at work today. That’s great.”
“It means come September we’ll be needing a new paralegal.” Jill tipped her face towards him, her long hair falling like a curtain across her knees.
“Okay…” Jack said slowly, not sure exactly where Jill was headed.
“You should apply for it, Jack.”
Jack coughed on his inhale, blowing smoke out of his nostrils. “Me? I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
“Because…because I’m not qualified. Don’t you have to go to school for that?”
Jill shrugged. “Nowadays most people do, but it didn’t used to be that way. You can do the job. Shit, you already practically do it for me--reading cases, writing memos, outlining witness testimony, arranging trial exhibits. It’s nothing you don’t do every day. And you’d get paid more. It would be a permanent position.”
Jack hadn’t thought beyond the end of his year-long stint at the Legal Aid office. He didn’t know what kind of commitment he was willing to make to Chicago, to this job, to this new type of life. “I’ll think about it,” he said, tapping ash off the side of the steps.
“Okay,” Jill said easily. “You have a while before you need to decide.” She shivered slightly in the breeze, wrapping her arms tighter around her body.
“Here,” Jack said, shrugging out of his jacket. “Take this.”
“Thanks.” Jill put her arms through the sleeves, practically disappearing inside the black leather. “Jack?”
“Hmmm?”
“Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?” Her question came out in a rush, sounding like one long, single phrase. It took him a moment to break it up into separate words. Jack looked at her, her blue eyes twinkling at him in the semi-darkness.
“Jill…I’m gay.”
She stared at him. “No you’re not,” she said after a moment, pushing against him with her shoulder.
“Yes, I am.”
“But, your ex-wife called that day.”
“Lureen. Yeah, I was married. I’m still gay, though.”
“Oh…oh,” Jill breathed. “Fuck. Now I feel really stupid.”
“Don’t feel stupid.” Jack smiled. “It’s not like I advertise it.”
“No, you don’t,” Jill agreed. “Obviously, or I wouldn’t have asked you out.”
“Are you even supposed to do that? Since we work together?”
“Eh…it’s pretty casual around that place. I don’t think going to dinner would have been crossing any lines.”
“Why would you want to go out with me anyway?”
“What do you mean?” Jill asked, her brow furrowed, twisting her hair up on top of her head as she spoke.
“I mean, you’re an attorney, you could have your pick of guys. I’m an ex-con, Jill, with a high school education. I’m not quite in your league.”
“You’re not doing anything illegal now, are you? Not selling crack out behind the building on your lunch hour?”
“No.” Jack grinned around his cigarette.
“You’ve got a real job, right? You’re trying to turn things around. And you aren’t half bad to look at, Jack Twist.” Jill flashed her own wide grin. “Why wouldn’t I want to go out with you?”
Jack didn’t answer right away, listening to the thumping beats of music vibrating from the house. “You really believe people can change?” he asked quietly. “That they deserve second chances?”
Jill took his hand in hers, but there was nothing sexual in the touch, it was a sister’s caress, meant to ease pain not kindle lust. “Of course I do. Otherwise I’m sort of wasting my life, right? I mean, look at what I do all day, every day. If I don’t believe people can change, that a second chance might be all someone needs to get their act together, then why am I doing this shit-for-pay, thankless job?”
Jack squeezed Jill’s hand lightly, her fingers so small and delicate in his own. He’d only stopped wearing the bandages over his fingertips recently and it was nice to touch someone else’s skin.
“Are you with anybody, Jack?” Jill asked after several minutes of easy silence. “Because you could have brought him tonight.”
“No, I’m not with anyone.” Jack could feel Jill watching him.
“I hear a broken heart in your voice,” she said gently. “I’ve had some experience in that department.”
“It’s a long story.” Jack withdrew his hand, using it to light a new cigarette.
“Does this long story have a name?”
Jack sucked so hard against the filter he threatened to inhale the entire cigarette down his throat. “Ennis,” he managed.
“Ennis…now that’s a name you don’t hear every day.”
“Nope,” Jack choked out a sad little laugh.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not tonight.”
“Okay,” Jill nodded. “And I hope you appreciate how difficult that is for me to say because I’m naturally such a nosy bitch.”
Jack laughed, a real one this time. “Maybe someday.”
“Deal.” Jill dragged herself up off the step, using both hands around the railing as leverage. “I’m going back in. Need anything?” She stripped off his jacket and handed it back.
“No, I’m good…Jill?”
“Yeah?” Jill paused, her hand on the screen door handle.
“I like that thing you do with your hair, the knot.”
Jill smiled, her face lit with genuine joy. She let go of the door and bent down to kiss him lightly on the cheek. Even after smoking she smelled like flowers. “Thanks, Jack.”
The party sounds grew louder as Jill opened the door, receding again when she shut it behind her, leaving Jack to man the back stoop alone. The edges of Lauren’s backyard were dense with bushes, the interior lights failing to reach the shadowy corners. Jack crushed out his cigarette and stood, wandering into the dark. He could see a few stars, the city lights not obscuring their dim glow. Nothing like a Wyoming sky, but he’d take it.
Ennis was heavy on his mind tonight. More than three months had passed since he’d seen Ennis’s face, touched his hair, heard his low voice, and it still hurt to say his name. It was too long and, yet, not long enough because the guilt still burned in Jack’s heart, a brand on the inside that wasn’t going away. He wondered what Ennis was doing tonight, if he was moving on, if he was healing. Jack hoped so, had hope for Ennis he was still trying to find for himself.
“Ennis,” he breathed, tipping his face to the stars.
Jack didn’t believe in ghosts or conjuring people’s spirits, even when they were still alive, but as he spoke Ennis’s name he felt warmth against his back, a man’s strength behind him, holding him tight. He could have sworn he smelled the spice of Ennis’s skin, his soft lips murmuring words of comfort against Jack’s neck, rocking him lightly. For the first time since he’d walked away from Ennis, Jack knew peace.
A single hot tear ran down his cheek, catching on the corner of his mouth. “I miss you,” Jack whispered. “I miss you.” He felt loved. He felt heard. And for now it was enough…it would have to be.
**********
Ennis was a free man, technically speaking. He was no longer an FBI Agent, today marking his last day on the job after putting in his notice two weeks ago. He had enough money in the bank to last for a little while; he didn’t have to look for new work right away if he didn’t want to. He was free. But he still felt shackled, his heart heavy with burdens.
His last task as an FBI Agent had been to box up the Hinestroza files in his office. The latest reports coming in to the Agency were that Hinestroza had been spotted in Colombia, on his home turf, where he couldn’t be arrested. And Jack was living in Chicago, unharmed. It still stung to know that Ennis could trust the word of Hinestroza over some of the promises he’d been given by those he thought were on his side, the so-called “good” guys.
Ennis’s mess was almost clean; he was living his life more honestly, but he hadn't been magically transformed into a new man. He’d come out to Alma, admitted his mistakes to Colin, walked away from the FBI. And those steps felt necessary, but they hadn’t given him everything he needed…he didn’t feel healed. He understood now that his struggle with being gay, and with allowing his desire for Jack to overcome his passion for justice, wasn’t going to end with admitting the truth--it was a battle he’d continue to fight every day.
But even so, even knowing the price to be paid, he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that if he had those weeks to live over again, starting with seeing Jack in the interrogation room and ending with letting Hinestroza walk away, his choices would remain the same. He would always choose Jack.
He could still smell Jack’s blood when he’d knelt over him in that dirty kitchen, pressing his palms against Jack’s wound--feeling Jack’s life seeping out beneath his hands. Whenever he thought of that day, that’s where his mind stopped, snagged like a piece of cotton on a thorny bush. He could never get past how close Jack had been to dying, unable to see any other way it could have played out, what other choice he could possibly have made, even knowing the guilt and pain it ultimately caused.
And that’s okay, Ennis. Because you love him, you’re in love with him. To arrest Hinestroza that day was to let Jack die, maybe not right then, but soon. That’s asking too much of any man, any man in love. You made a choice and I think you can live with it…because the alternative is unthinkable--a world without Jack. What kind of justice would that have been?
For the first time in his life Ennis’s internal voice sounded kind, gentle with him, careful. Could it be that was part of cleaning up his mess, too, not being so hard on himself all the god damn time? Ennis opened the blinds next to his bed, leaning his forehead against the glass. He could see a few St. Patrick’s Day revelers making their drunken way home on the dark sidewalk below.
When Ennis had first met Jack he’d seen him as the enemy, as a dark blight on the world, and envisioned himself as the protector of good, standing in the sun. But it hadn’t been true. He had his own darkness inside and Jack could sometimes be bathed in the purest light. And Ennis had learned the light wasn’t always what it appeared, that too long in its rays left people burned with their own self-righteousness, over-confident of their own goodness, just as dwelling too long in the dark made a man believe he didn’t deserve anything better, that the light would never shine for him.
Ennis glanced up at the cold, white stars and Jack felt close suddenly, his presence alive and within Ennis’s grasp. He imagined Jack’s dark hair brushing against his cheek, Jack’s warm body leaning lazily against his, giving strength simply by allowing Ennis to hold him in his arms. He wished he’d told Jack he loved him before he’d left; he wanted Jack to know.
There had been no calls from Jack, no cards, no messages. But maybe Jack wanted him even if he couldn’t say the words. God knows Ennis still wanted Jack and he hadn’t contacted him, either, the silence between them only magnifying the depth of Ennis’s longing. Maybe they’d both done all the healing they could on their own--becoming stronger, better men too big a job for either man alone. Ennis had hoped the right path would open before him, clear and easy to follow. But he still wasn’t sure what steps to take. He wondered if Jack had been this scared when he’d led Ennis down the path that brought them to each other those long weeks ago. He wanted to be brave like Jack had been. He might not know exactly how to get where he was going, but he felt sure, finally, of his destination.
For so long he’d been Ennis--the imposter, hiding from view. Then Ennis--the FBI Agent, still hiding, just wearing a more impressive disguise. Maybe now it was time to leave those lives behind and simply be Ennis--the man, the man who loved Jack. The man who loved Jack more than he loved living only in the bright and uncompromising light. |
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| Shades of Grey--Chapter Sixteen |
[Dec. 7th, 2006|11:13 am] |
| [ | mood |
| | hopeful | ] |
Author: midwest-girl (Amy)
Disclaimer: Once again, I did not create these characters. They are the work of Annie Proulx and I am just riding her coat tails.
Rating: NC-17 for the story as a whole.
Synopsis: Oh boy, that's a tough one. Let's just say this is a modern AU!AU told from both Jack's and Ennis's points of view. I hope those of you who enjoyed "If I Asked" will give this story a chance. It has a darker setting and mood than IIA, but please keep in mind that I love J/E and want only the best for them....
Author's Note: Thanks to my betas, Christina and Judy; you guys are the best!
Feedback: I would love any and all feedback and please know it is truly appreciated.
Chapter Sixteen
“Matthew?”
“No.”
“Jacob?”
“Uh-uh.” Ennis shifted against Jack’s body, drawing Jack’s bare arms tighter across his chest. He’d never thought that two men could fit together so easily, had always assumed only a woman could be cradled the way Jack was holding him now. But it wasn’t true. His back molded itself to Jack’s chest like they were two halves of the same whole, his head resting comfortably in the hollow of Jack’s shoulder, Jack’s breath sighing against his temple.
“Just tell me your god damn middle name. I’m never going to guess it,” Jack said, pushing against Ennis’s naked thigh with his own.
“Quitter,” Ennis mocked. “Keep going.”
“Bernard?” Jack snorted, chuckling under his breath.
“Jesus, my parents weren’t that cruel.”
“Hard to tell, judging by your first name.”
Ennis barked out a laugh, rolling over quickly to pin Jack against the bed, using his hands as gentle shackles over Jack’s wrists. “Asshole. It’s Edward.”
Jack smiled, his slow, sexy grin full of white teeth, the one that made Ennis’s stomach fall so hard he felt almost sick, the one that made him crazy with wanting, like some teenage boy mooning over his first love.
“Ennis Edward Del Mar,” Jack said quietly. “It’s a good name.” He raised his head off the bed, arms still pinned next to his pillow, and kissed Ennis, soft at first, then with more pressure, his tongue sliding hot and wet, taunting Ennis a little, pulling back whenever Ennis pushed forward, until Ennis caught that teasing tongue with his own.
Ennis released Jack’s wrists, bringing his own hands down to run across Jack’s chest, thumbing Jack’s nipples lightly, then flicking them with his tongue, his own breath hitching at the way Jack moaned, lifting his chest off the bed to get closer to Ennis’s mouth.
Ennis moved lower, his tongue forging a wet trail. He laid his cheek against Jack’s stomach for a moment, just breathing him in, rising and falling with Jack’s exhales, Jack twining lazy fingers in his hair.
“I’m hungry,” Jack’s words were punctuated by a stomach rumble, loud in Ennis’s ear.
“You’re always hungry,” Ennis noted, resting his chin on Jack’s stomach. “I thought we were about to do something besides eat.”
“I think I need food first.”
“All we have is peanut butter and jelly.”
Jack wrinkled his nose.
“I take it peanut butter and jelly is not your favorite,” Ennis said dryly.
“I should have reminded you to get something else when you were out yesterday.”
“I had other things on my mind.” Ennis’s eyes skated over to the box of condoms on the bedside table.
Jack grinned. “At least you’ve got your priorities straight.” He paused, pinching Ennis’s earlobe playfully. “But seriously, would it have killed you to pick up some turkey?”
Ennis shook his head, his laugh muffled by Jack’s belly. “Christ, I’ve never met anybody who bitches about food the way you do.”
“What do you mean?” Jack craned his neck to look down at Ennis.
“You complain about the sandwich selection, my cooking skills, the pizza, the cereal, those stale crackers from the hospital.” Ennis was trying to sound disgusted, but he couldn’t help smiling.
Jack looked at him without speaking.
“What?” Ennis asked, suddenly self-conscious.
“You remember all that stuff?”
Ennis stared into Jack’s eyes. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I do.” He wanted to make a joke, but he couldn’t back away from what he saw in Jack’s eyes, couldn’t make light of what was real and alive between them.
“Come here.” Jack tugged on Ennis’s arm, moving him up to cover his body, his legs braiding their way around Ennis’s. Jack’s hands clutched at Ennis’s ass as they rocked against each other, one finger sliding into the cleft, pushing lightly.
Ennis stiffened up, not out of fear exactly, just overcome with the knowledge that this was one more place he was opening up to Jack, giving over another piece of himself to the man beneath him. It was like Jack had discovered some secret part of Ennis, some thread that Ennis had always been aware of, itching against his skin, but no one else had ever found. And the longer they were together, the more Jack tugged, unraveling the thread, exposing more and more of the other-Ennis, Jack’s Ennis…who had been waiting there all along.
“Can I?” Jack whispered.
“Yes,” Ennis breathed.
Jack’s finger slid in smooth. It didn’t hurt, the way Ennis expected it might; he felt pressure and stretching, but nothing that he would describe as pain.
“Oh, god, yeah,” Jack groaned, moving his finger slowly in and out. Ennis raised his head, kissing Jack with a probing tongue, matching his movements to the thrusts of Jack’s finger.
Jack pulled back a little, looking at Ennis as he pushed his hips up and his finger deep at the same moment, Jack’s question…someday?…clear in his eyes. And Ennis’s answer…yes…clear in his own. Never in a million years thought he’d open his body for another man’s cock, but for Jack…yes, he’d do that, he’d do anything.
Jack wrapped his legs around Ennis’s waist as they made love, his head thrashing on the pillow as Ennis thrust hard. It was the first time they’d done this face-to-face and Ennis growled through his pleasure, not wanting it to end too soon, wanting to savor every second, every expression gliding across Jack’s face, every sound he made, the way his blue eyes flew open wide as he came, allowing Ennis to see all the way inside.
When it was over Ennis slid out slowly, collapsing onto Jack’s body. “Why…” he panted into Jack’s neck, “Why’s it so god damn good?” He was surprised at how full his voice sounded, so close to overflowing its steady banks.
Jack stroked his hair, his lips warm against Ennis’s cheek. “Because it’s us, Ennis,” he whispered. “Because it’s us.”
**********
Denial. Ennis recognized it easily enough, had seen it on the faces of countless suspects, their spouses and children, parents and friends. He’d seen it in the eyes of fellow agents when a jury shuffled back into the courtroom with a “not guilty” verdict, erasing years of work in an instant. And god knows he’d made its personal acquaintance, hiding behind his own mask for a lifetime. So he knew what he was feeling as he turned a slow circle in Jack’s empty apartment, furniture cleaned out, a few scraps of crumpled newspaper all that was left behind of Jack’s life.
“Did he…” Ennis cleared his throat. “Did he say where he was going?”
The apartment manager shrugged, her manner bored and slightly put-out. She’d hemmed and hawed about letting Ennis inside until he’d flashed his badge, which technically wasn’t his to flash while on administrative leave. Given his larger transgressions he didn’t think playing fast and loose with Jack’s landlady was going to get him in water any hotter than he was boiling in already. “I heard him say he had a long drive ahead of him, so I’m assuming outside the city. But more than that, I have no idea.”
Ennis had called Jack every day since Jack had walked away and left him alone on the park bench. Fifteen calls and the machine had picked up every time; Ennis never left a message, he had no idea what to say to make it right again, didn’t know what words Jack needed to hear. Then, yesterday when he’d called, a familiar electronic voice came over the wire, telling Ennis that Jack’s number had been disconnected or was no longer in service. Ennis had wanted to travel through the telephone and strangle the voice speaking words he could not accept.
And now, here he was in Jack’s apartment, finally getting off his ass and making a move…and it was too late, because Jack was gone. Cleared out and vanished into the world. The pain settling under Ennis’s ribs, sending its tentacles into his stomach and lungs, sprang not from the fact that Ennis couldn’t find Jack, that could be accomplished easily enough. It was because Jack had gone without a word, leaving Ennis without even a good-bye. And Ennis understood suddenly that Jack’s “I love you” on the bench had been his farewell, a final parting gift--and Ennis had given Jack nothing to take with him on his journey.
Ennis felt a strange kind of nakedness, not knowing where Jack was or what he was doing. For so long he’d been aware of Jack’s every move--what he wore each day, what he ate, who he saw. And then Ennis had gained even more intimate knowledge--how Jack tasted and felt, how his face softened during sleep. And now it was all gone. Ennis’s focus for so long had disappeared, slipped through his fingers when he was looking the other way.
“Can I have a minute?” Ennis asked quietly.
“Sure,” the woman said. “I’m going back to my office.” She handed Ennis the key. “Just lock up when you’re done and bring the key down.”
Ennis walked slowly across the living room, the winter light filtering in through half-open blinds. Jack’s apartment was housed in an old mansion in the central part of the city, near the art museum. It was considered an up-and-coming neighborhood, charming with just a hint of left-over seediness. The apartment itself was large, lacking the high ceilings of Ennis’s own place, but made airy by the big windows and clean, white paint. Ennis wandered into Jack’s bedroom and his bathroom just beyond. The medicine cabinet opened with a startled squawk of metal, Ennis’s heart racing loudly in his ears in the following silence. The cabinet held only a roll of dental floss. Ennis cupped it in his hand, putting it into his pocket without knowing why.
He leaned his hands against the pedestal sink, head hanging low and counted to ten, willing himself back to neutral. He didn’t know if he’d ever hurt this bad, felt this diminished by loss. Jack had left, moved on, and maybe that was what Ennis should do as well, forget about the life that had almost been his and try to be content with the life he’d had before Jack Twist had entered his world.
Ennis tried to imagine living that new life Jack had shown him--walking through the world as a gay man, not pretending anymore, turning away from his career, loving a man who would probably never outrun his demons and whose face would always remind Ennis of his own. He let the fear wash over him, the strong urge to duck away from those truths surging through his blood. And then he thought of Jack, stepped back from all the heaviness surrounding them both, and just conjured up the man--the way he smiled and smelled, the way he laughed and let Ennis be, never wanting anything more from Ennis than who he really was. Jack, whose body made Ennis forget the world and whose soul, even marked with shadows, made Ennis believe in something beyond the stars. Jack…who had traded his life for Ennis’s without a second thought.
You have to decide the man you want to be from here on out. How long ago had Jack said that to him? And he still hadn’t decided. Still had Alma marooned out in no-man’s land, wondering what the hell had happened to her plans for the future. His career still poised on the brink and he didn’t even know if it was worth pulling back. His own darkness hanging over him like a guillotine, time running out for him to make peace with his choices.
Ennis slammed the medicine cabinet hard, his eyes fierce in the mirror. They both had to clean up their lives, that’s what Jack had told him. Ennis didn’t know if he had the strength to do that, to face Alma and Colin with an open heart, to look without flinching into his own dark places. But cleaning up his mess was the only gift he could give Jack, and do it with the hope that wherever he was, Jack was doing the same. Ennis had to believe that somehow their divergent paths would cross again. That they would both make it through the brambles and thorns blocking their way and emerge stronger men on the other side.
**********
“You planned this, didn’t you?” Dane huffed as he staggered through the door with an armful of boxes.
“What are you talking about?”
“Planned this move for when your arm was still in a cast, just so you wouldn’t have to help with any of the heavy lifting, you fucker.”
Jack laughed, scooting boxes towards the walls with his feet. “Is that it?”
“Yeah, that was the last load.”
“Well, sit down for a little bit, you’ve been working like a dog.”
“Nice of you to notice.” Dane glanced around the living room crowded with boxes. “Where?”
“Just push that shit off the sofa.”
Dane cleared a small space and flopped down on the sofa with a groan. “If you come across the cooler, pass me a beer.”
“I already put them in the fridge. The pizza guy was here while you were downstairs, it’s in there, too.”
“I’ll get some in a minute,” Dane sighed. “Too tired right now.”
Jack cut through packing tape with his Swiss Army Knife, kicking boxes through the doorway into the kitchen or down the short hall to his bedroom, where they belonged. This apartment was half the size of his old one and in a less than ideal area of Chicago, but at five hundred dollars a month it was the most he could afford.
“So, tell me more about this job,” Dane said, when Jack returned to the living room. He handed Jack a beer and gestured towards the greasy pizza box he’d opened.
Jack shrugged, lowering himself to the floor at Dane’s feet. “I don’t know much. It’s at Legal Aid. Sort of a runner, I guess. Just helping them with whatever needs doing.”
Dane threw Jack a skeptical glance. “And they know your record?”
“Yeah. My probation officer was the one who told me about it. He recommended me for the job and they interviewed me over the phone. It was all pretty casual.”
“So you work for the whole office?”
“Yeah, but I have a primary attorney I help out. Jill Ward. She seemed nice enough when we talked. I think they’re desperate. The job doesn’t pay for shit. It’s part of a grant, some rehabilitation project,” Jack rolled his eyes, “trying to keep us ex-cons out of the pokey.”
“You’re going to starve,” Dane pointed out.
“I’ve got some money left. And I sold my bike. I’ll be okay.” Jack paused to stuff half a slice of pizza in his mouth. “What about you? What are you going to do in St. Louis? Live with your brother?”
“Yeah, Griff said he had room for me and could help me get a job.”
“Are you sure hanging around your brother is such a good idea?” Jack asked carefully. Griff Gentry made Dane look like a small-time crook, having spent more of his adult life in prison than out. It made Jack nervous to know Dane was going to be living with the man.
“Sure, I like St. Louis,” Dane grinned, knowing that wasn’t what Jack meant.
“Yeah, but you know Griff’s going to want you to get mixed up in--”
“Jack, stop worrying. I’m a big boy.”
“Okay,” Jack nodded. “Okay.”
“Besides, not all of us are meant for a life on the right side of the law.”
“Dane…” Jack shifted his position so he could get a better look at Dane’s face, wincing as he moved.
“You still hurting?” Dane asked, sliding off the couch to sit next to him.
“Nah, it’s nothing,” Jack said, waving him off. “Just sore.”
“You’ve got to take better care of yourself, man,” Dane said quietly, his face inches from Jack’s. Jack saw the feeling in Dane’s eyes and wished, god how he wished, he could love this man. When Dane left he would be alone, alone with pain that was eating him from the inside out, pain he was trying to stifle by keeping busy, moving his body, moving his life, so that he wouldn’t have to face the empty spot where Ennis used to stand.
Jack pressed forward quickly, bringing his mouth to Dane’s, opening Dane’s lips with his tongue, desperate to soothe the ache, fill the yawning emptiness inside. The kiss was familiar, a move they knew by heart, but it wasn’t what Jack needed, the shape of Dane’s lips not what he craved, the taste of his mouth only reminding Jack of who it was he really wanted.
“Stop,” Dane said softly, untangling himself, giving Jack a gentle shove backwards. “Stop.” His sad green eyes met Jack’s as he spoke. “I’m not him, Jack.”
Jack saw the conflict in Dane’s face, understood what it cost Dane to turn him away. “God, I’m sorry,” Jack choked out. “I’m sorry.”
Dane took a long swallow of beer, his eyes on the ceiling.
“How did you know?” Jack asked. “About Ennis and me.” Even saying his name hurt, a direct hit to the heart.
“I suspected something when he came to interview me. He was jealous, it was written all over him. He could hardly stand to look at me. Then, when I talked to him that night at the hospital, I knew for sure. And your face, when I told you he’d been there…”
“I’m sorry,” Jack repeated. “That wasn’t fair to you.”
Dane blew out a short breath. “People can’t help what they feel, Jack. If they could I would have been over you a long time ago.” He gave Jack a rueful smile. “What happened between you two?”
“It didn’t work out for us,” Jack said quietly. “He deserved something more than being stuck with me and my shitty past for the rest of his life.”
“He didn’t seem too worried about your shitty past that night outside the hospital.”
Jack shook his head. “He did something for me…something that he’s not going to be able to live with. Something bad.”
“Was he forced to do it?” Dane asked, confused.
“No.”
“Well then it was a choice he made, wasn’t it? So that just means he loves you more than doing the right thing all the time.” The words looked like they hurt | | |
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