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31_days2007-02-13 05:15 pm
rhye.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2007-02-13 05:15 pm
[February 13] [Brokeback Mountain] Once Upon a Time - 13
Title: Once Upon a Time - 13
Day/Theme: February 13th/Ragnarok
Series: Brokeback Mountain
Character/Pairing: Jack Twist/Ennis del Mar
Rating: R
Chapter 13
Jack woke with a start, hearing voices, watching an ethereal red glow reflecting off the grey walls of the bedroom. He knew the color well from too many nights in campgrounds: fire.
Jack cursed, rousing Ennis and scrambling into shoes simultaneously. There must have been a fire started in the barn or something. Maybe one of the hands had been careless with a cigarette. Probably the voices were them trying to put it out.
He had no idea what he was in for.
Jack's ma was waking too, and all three of them loped down the dark stairs. It was Jack's ranch now so he took the responsibility for throwing the door open, welcoming into their home whatever might be on the outside.
"Well, if it ain't Jack Twist, the faggot himself."
Jack blinked against the glowing light. An ominous crowd of unsightly men bore lanterns and blunt weapons. The meaning didn't register for a long moment, Jack's blood roaring loudly through his ears.
A tall man with a bulbous head laughed the laugh of a simpleton, and Jack felt his palms sweat. "Ma, go git in the cellar," he whispered over his shoulder. His mother didn't question but headed for the back door and storm cellar. Jack could feel as much as see Ennis's jaw working past anger. Jack's own demon here was fear. They'd lived three weeks of near-bliss, and fear was a real thing to Jack when he found he had something to lose.
Everything started in slow motion. The man who seemed to be in charge heedlessly threw his lantern at Jack and Ennis where they stood frozen in the doorway, though he missed by a good two feet and it smashed against the wood of the house and went out. But it was meant as a battle charge, and it was taken as one.
In an instant Jack and Ennis were in the crowd of men, fighting for their lives. Men were running back across the field to set the more distant barn aflame. Others were lighting up the horse barn. Still more, the house. Jack saw Ennis's eyes fix wildly on the horse barn.
"I'll cover for you," Jack called. A man was coming at Ennis with a shovel, but Jack threw himself between, taking the blow on his left arm. Jack staggered at the pain before the shovel connected with his back. That sent him spiraling to his knees, his vision skittering black, before an older instinct grabbed him. Suddenly he was on the sandy dirt in front of a charging bull and he knew what he had to do if he wanted to live. Pushing through the pain, Jack was on his feet and limping at a pretty good clip away from the man.
Somewhere in the distance someone was playing the fiddle.
Jack spun to check Ennis's progress, but he needn't have worried. Ennis was beating the crap out of two men by the barn. He'd be in, and the horses out, in no time.
Jack spun at the sound of growling and started at the sight of a great big wolf on the end of a leash. More surprising than the animal was the boy who held on to it. Suddenly Jack's unasked questions were answered. Loki, the younger of the two youngest ranch hands, glittered like an angel of death in the growing firelight. Smog was clogging the air near the burning house, obscuring the stars and the moon. The boy laughed, and Jack was reminded of the laughs you hear in horror movies. That was it, this must be some kind of movie. He needed to get to the house to see if he could stop the ravaging fire, but Loki and the wolf stood vigilant between him and it, seemingly content to let him watch his dreams burn to dust.
Jack decided at last he had to do something. He spun and ran, splinters of pain still stabbing up his back from where the shovel had landed its hit. Loki must have released the wolf, because the jolt of agony that sung up Jack's leg was clearly trying to tell him something was wrong in that department. Jack, on the ground now, instinctively brought his hands over his face, glimpsing his own bloody calf in the beast's red-glazed muzzle. Desperate to save his leg, his house, himself, Jack flung his arms and reached around, his fingers landing on the same shovel that he had met earlier, but now he wielded it.
Without sparing a thought, Jack went berserk, shovel flying to meet muscle and bone. Jack felt a satisfying shudder and the creature let him go. Not sparing a thought for its well-being, he scrambled to his one good foot and made for the house. He hadn't though about what he'd do when he got there. Probably because he didn't expect to get there.
The fiddle played on.
Stumbling blindly into the ever-darkening air, air that smelled of his heart's desires combusting, Jack tripped over something, saw that it was a couple of roosters out of the coop. The chaos was palpable. The smokey, bloody air was filled with cries of panic, though Jack could hardly understand it, since it'd been him and Ennis against about twenty men. In truth, Jack didn't quite believe he was still alive.
That was his final thought as he lost consciousness, the black vision of smoke around him fading into a less terrifying black inside of his own head.
Day/Theme: February 13th/Ragnarok
Series: Brokeback Mountain
Character/Pairing: Jack Twist/Ennis del Mar
Rating: R
Chapter 13
Jack woke with a start, hearing voices, watching an ethereal red glow reflecting off the grey walls of the bedroom. He knew the color well from too many nights in campgrounds: fire.
Jack cursed, rousing Ennis and scrambling into shoes simultaneously. There must have been a fire started in the barn or something. Maybe one of the hands had been careless with a cigarette. Probably the voices were them trying to put it out.
He had no idea what he was in for.
Jack's ma was waking too, and all three of them loped down the dark stairs. It was Jack's ranch now so he took the responsibility for throwing the door open, welcoming into their home whatever might be on the outside.
"Well, if it ain't Jack Twist, the faggot himself."
Jack blinked against the glowing light. An ominous crowd of unsightly men bore lanterns and blunt weapons. The meaning didn't register for a long moment, Jack's blood roaring loudly through his ears.
A tall man with a bulbous head laughed the laugh of a simpleton, and Jack felt his palms sweat. "Ma, go git in the cellar," he whispered over his shoulder. His mother didn't question but headed for the back door and storm cellar. Jack could feel as much as see Ennis's jaw working past anger. Jack's own demon here was fear. They'd lived three weeks of near-bliss, and fear was a real thing to Jack when he found he had something to lose.
Everything started in slow motion. The man who seemed to be in charge heedlessly threw his lantern at Jack and Ennis where they stood frozen in the doorway, though he missed by a good two feet and it smashed against the wood of the house and went out. But it was meant as a battle charge, and it was taken as one.
In an instant Jack and Ennis were in the crowd of men, fighting for their lives. Men were running back across the field to set the more distant barn aflame. Others were lighting up the horse barn. Still more, the house. Jack saw Ennis's eyes fix wildly on the horse barn.
"I'll cover for you," Jack called. A man was coming at Ennis with a shovel, but Jack threw himself between, taking the blow on his left arm. Jack staggered at the pain before the shovel connected with his back. That sent him spiraling to his knees, his vision skittering black, before an older instinct grabbed him. Suddenly he was on the sandy dirt in front of a charging bull and he knew what he had to do if he wanted to live. Pushing through the pain, Jack was on his feet and limping at a pretty good clip away from the man.
Somewhere in the distance someone was playing the fiddle.
Jack spun to check Ennis's progress, but he needn't have worried. Ennis was beating the crap out of two men by the barn. He'd be in, and the horses out, in no time.
Jack spun at the sound of growling and started at the sight of a great big wolf on the end of a leash. More surprising than the animal was the boy who held on to it. Suddenly Jack's unasked questions were answered. Loki, the younger of the two youngest ranch hands, glittered like an angel of death in the growing firelight. Smog was clogging the air near the burning house, obscuring the stars and the moon. The boy laughed, and Jack was reminded of the laughs you hear in horror movies. That was it, this must be some kind of movie. He needed to get to the house to see if he could stop the ravaging fire, but Loki and the wolf stood vigilant between him and it, seemingly content to let him watch his dreams burn to dust.
Jack decided at last he had to do something. He spun and ran, splinters of pain still stabbing up his back from where the shovel had landed its hit. Loki must have released the wolf, because the jolt of agony that sung up Jack's leg was clearly trying to tell him something was wrong in that department. Jack, on the ground now, instinctively brought his hands over his face, glimpsing his own bloody calf in the beast's red-glazed muzzle. Desperate to save his leg, his house, himself, Jack flung his arms and reached around, his fingers landing on the same shovel that he had met earlier, but now he wielded it.
Without sparing a thought, Jack went berserk, shovel flying to meet muscle and bone. Jack felt a satisfying shudder and the creature let him go. Not sparing a thought for its well-being, he scrambled to his one good foot and made for the house. He hadn't though about what he'd do when he got there. Probably because he didn't expect to get there.
The fiddle played on.
Stumbling blindly into the ever-darkening air, air that smelled of his heart's desires combusting, Jack tripped over something, saw that it was a couple of roosters out of the coop. The chaos was palpable. The smokey, bloody air was filled with cries of panic, though Jack could hardly understand it, since it'd been him and Ennis against about twenty men. In truth, Jack didn't quite believe he was still alive.
That was his final thought as he lost consciousness, the black vision of smoke around him fading into a less terrifying black inside of his own head.