A/N: A little one-shot to fill in a missing scene and explore Jack’s thoughts in more depth. For me this was one of the most heart-wrenching parts of the movie, and I apologize if I don’t do it justice. I’ve only seen the movie once and haven’t read the short story, so I might be a little hazy on the details.

I don’t own anything- it all belongs to Annie Proulx and the people behind the film (everyone join me, now: bow, worship, adoration).

Please leave a review if you have a minute; it’d mean an awful lot :)

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Ghost

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I don’t want you to find out from someone else, Friend, so I reckoned I’d write and let you know- me and Alma’s divorce just came through.

Jack ran his eyes over the words, reading them again and again till they just about lost all their meaning, till they became a bunch of jumbled syllables. Jesus Christ. Divorce. That means… shit. Holy shit.

Lureen came into the hallway and saw him standing pale and still, clutching a letter in hands that were beginning to shake. “What’s up, honey?” she asked idly, plucking up the rest of the post and shuffling through the pile of letters. “You look like you seen a ghost.”

It ain’t a ghost. Not any more. It’s real, it’s real.

He felt as if a thousand volts of electricity were coursing through him. He turned to his wife and tried to gather his wits. “Lureen, I gotta go. I, uh… business. Business trip.” He waved the letter. “Gotta go see someone ‘bout…this. Important.” Lureen cocked a dubious eyebrow at him, but he didn’t give a damn, not a single damn. He snatched a jacket from the hook on the wall, grabbed his hat and made for the door. “I’ll call you later,” he cast over his shoulder. “Might be a while. Few days.” A lifetime.

“You ain’t takin’ any clothes?”

He was already halfway down the front steps. “Nah, don’t need ‘em.”

“I guess you will be needin’ these, unless you’re plannin’ on walkin’.” He turned to see her standing in the doorway, bemusement plain on her face, dangling the keys to the truck between her manicured fingernails. He ran back up, grinning sheepishly, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek as he took the keys. A sudden jab of guilt passed through him as his lips brushed her warm skin. You really gonna just leave her like this? Her and Bobby? Drop everythin’ and run without so much as a backwards glance? Yes. Yes, he damn well was. No more waiting. At least give the woman an explanation. She deserves that much. But no, not yet, not now. It didn’t seem real. He needed time to think. The state he was in at the moment, he’d probably just blurt out, ‘Darlin’, I’m runnin’ off with another man now. Don’t wait up.’ He’d call tomorrow, or write, or talk to her when he came back to collect his things. Jesus. This was it, he was leaving, actually leaving.

He revved the truck engine and reversed out onto the road, the squealing wheels spitting up a spray of dust. As he stepped on the gas and his home dwindled to a speck in the distance, he didn’t spare the rearview mirror so much as a single glance.

- - - - -

Fifteen hours and- he checked his watch- forty-seven minutes later, he was almost there. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, had pulled into a truckstop for coffee and a piss only once. The road was looking a little blurry and his thoughts kept lurching off in strange directions, but God knew he’d waited long enough, and he’d be damned if he was gonna waste another fuckin’ second.

For the hundredth time, a grin spread across his face, so wide it just about cracked his jaw. Goddamn, Ennis buddy, you’ve finally seen the light. No more separation, no more hollow lies and stolen reunions, too short, always too short. No more empty half-lives spent yearning and miserable.

He fidgeted in his seat, unable to sit still, every muscle in his body singing with anticipation. He leaned across the dash and turned up the radio.

“I ain't got no cigarettes
Ah, but two hours of pushin' broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room
I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road…”

Singing along at the top of his lungs, Jack beat the steering wheel with the heels of his hands. “King of the rooooad! Yeah!”

His mind, racing forward, was busy mapping out the future. Their future. They’d stay at Ennis’s place for a while, most likely, so Jack could sort out stuff with Lureen, a divorce, child support, that kinda thing. She could keep the house, the car, everythin’, as far as he was concerned; he’d have all he needed. Maybe then he and Ennis’d head up to Brokeback for a time, camp out, get reacquainted. The thought made him redouble his off-key vocal efforts and give the wheel an extra-hard smack.

“I'm a man of means by no means
King of the road…”

Then what? Daddy’s ranch. They could head up there and really lick the place into shape, help out with the stock, hire some new hands, start it makin’ money again, get a real nice business goin’. Build a sweet life, he thought, grinning at this echo from the past. A real sweet life.

On the horizon, Ennis’s place came into view. Jack resisted the urge to plant his foot even harder on the gas; he was already doing twenty over the limit. Won’t have any future at all if you end up wrapped ‘round a tree, boy. Cool it.

And there was Ennis, standing in the drive as if he was expecting someone. Jack’s heart gave an almost painful jolt at the sight of him. Get a hold on yourself, he told himself firmly. You know what he’s like. Won’t want you flingin’ yourself at him, now, will he? Take it slow and careful.

As he pulled into the drive and came to a halt, he saw that Ennis looked to be seeing off his girls, who sat waiting in the truck.

Jack climbed out of the cab, his legs feeling about ready to fall off from being cramped up so long, his heart bucking against his ribcage like a crazy rodeo bull. Ennis walked slowly over to meet him, hat brim pulled low across his face, gaze fixed on the dust at his feet, resolutely avoiding Jack’s eye.

In that instant, the first bitter fingers of doubt wormed their way into Jack Twist’s heart.

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END