Disclaimer: BBM and all of its characters belong to its creators (not me). If you don't recognize the person/place/thing/story from the movie, then it's mine. Otherwise, give the money to someone else. :)

Author’s Note: This story was inspired and is dedicated to PoisonGirl125 on FFN. Enjoy! It’s a little bit canon-ish, and a little bit AU-ish.

In Sickness and In Health

By Jen (WCUGirl)

Part One…

It had been a couple of weeks since either of them had stayed up with the sheep overnight. Once Jack and Ennis had discovered each other in the most intimate of ways, they couldn’t stand to be away from the other any longer than necessary. They made sure to check on the sheep each day, both of them abandoning base camp to go sit with the flock for hours at a time. Together they worked, so that together they could go “home” when the day ended.

Their bliss came to a grinding halt the day that Jack discovered the bloody lamb lying dead at the edge of the field. It was obvious that the coyotes had been keeping a closer an eye on the flock than Jack and Ennis had been. Jack was filled with guilt and remorse over the death of the small animal; he hated that the little one had died in such a violent way and he couldn’t help but blame himself for not being there to protect it.

“Ain’t your fault Jack. Damn coyotes just lingerin around here, doing what they do. Wouldn’ta been no different if you’da been up here, ‘cept maybe it woulda got you too.” And then Ennis stepped closer to Jack and put a hand on Jack’s hip, pulling him in a little bit closer. He pressed their foreheads together. “And that woulda been more tragic than anything gonna happen t’these stupid fuckin animals.”

That night Jack and Ennis decided that someone needed to run the coyotes off, meaning one of them would have to stay the night up on the mountain with the sheep while the other one stayed down in base camp in case something went wrong. Jack volunteered to stay with the sheep. Ennis had gotten thrown from his horse a couple of days earlier and his hip was still bothering him a bit. Jack assured Ennis that he would be fine, and that he’d be down for breakfast. He mounted his horse and rode off in the late afternoon sunlight. Ennis watched him until he couldn’t see him anymore, and then listened until he couldn’t hear him anymore.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

Jack cursed the pup tent and kicked at a loose rock. Every time a good wind kicked up the damn thing blew over. He’d staked it down and tied it and done everything to that tent he knew to do to get it to stay up, but as soon as a breeze idled by, down it would go. Reluctantly he sat down on a large boulder and looked out over the flock. His horse was tied close by, the skittish little mare that had thrown him the first week they’d been up there, and she was munching happily on the grass the field had to offer her.

Wearily he drew out a cigarette, lit it and took a drag. Immediately his body rejected the smoke and he doubled over coughing. He raised his eyebrows at the cigarette, and shook his head. “I got to quit smoking,” he mumbled, voice cracking under the weight of another hacking cough. He took a more cautious drag the second time and was rewarded by not coughing. A breeze blew across the field and a shiver ran up Jack’s spine the same moment that his tent fell down.

“Goddammit,” Jack muttered and he stood to right the tent once again.

Ennis was startled awake by a sound that he couldn’t identify. He pushed himself up inside the tent and immediately reached for the body that wasn’t there. Remembering then that Jack was up with the sheep, Ennis slowly unzipped the tent and poked his head out. He expected to be greeted by the alabaster moonlight over the tops of the trees surrounding him, but was instead met with a flash of lightning and a crash of thunder that had him ducking quickly back inside. He grabbed his jacket, quickly pulling it on and buttoning it up tight. He heard the rain begin and heard it pelting the top of the tent, but the tent thankfully remained dry on the inside.

Ennis sat back on his heels and lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag off of it and let out a slow plume of smoke that seemed heavier in the moist air. He looked around and in the pale lighting could see Jack had left his jacket in the tent. He knew Jack had the pup tent to sleep in, and he hoped his cowboy was having more luck with the piece of shit tent than he’d had when he was using it. He shuddered as the thunder crashed again close by. It was a nasty night to not have somewhere dry to be. He hoped Jack was alright. That thought stayed with him until he fell into a restless sleep, one hand on the spot where Jack usually lay.

The sun was high in the sky when Ennis opened his eyes. He crawled out of the tent and into the warm sunlight—the morning giving no indication to the fury that was unleashed on the mountain the night before. He squinted up into the sunlight and then checked his watch. The clock said it was half past 9. He looked around, wondering where Jack was. Had he come and gone and Ennis slept through it? The campfire was in such a mess it was hard to tell if he’d been there or not. Chances are he had, and chances were he’d grabbed something quick to eat that he could take back up the mountain with him.

Pushing down the uneasiness that had plagued him since the previous afternoon, Ennis set about cleaning up the campsite, putting things back where they belonged, making a list of the supplies and food they needed so when Ennis went to meet the man with the truck at the trailhead later on this afternoon, he could give him the new list. Something nagging in the back of Ennis’ mind told him to have the man get some painkillers, something that would be good for them to take if one of them got sick, and also he ordered some soup. Satisfied that he’d listed off everything he needed, he left a note for Jack telling him where he was, and started off down the mountain.

Jack blinked his eyes open to find that he was burrowed tightly in his sleeping bag, that the tent was nowhere to be seen, and that he was soaking wet, sleeping bag and all. He shivered as he sat up, blinking in the bright sunlight and trying to figure out how he’d gotten so wet and where the tent had gone. He’d known that it would probably blow away during the night, but part of him was surprised that it actually had done exactly that.

Slowly he began to unzip himself out of the sopping wet sleeping bag and shivered again. He just couldn’t seem to shake the chill that somehow seemed to have wormed its way into his bones. He stared up at the bright blue sky, and he wondered if it had rained the night before. There were puddles all around that indicated that it had, and there was a fallen tree at the edge of the field that told him there had been some lightning and probably thunder as well. But he couldn’t figure out how he’d slept through a storm? He slowly stood up and groaned out loud at the aches in his joints and his bones. He’d missed sleeping on the pallet of blankets he and Ennis had made in their tent at base camp. Sleeping in the pup tent meant sleeping on the cold hard ground, and that meant stiff joints the next day.

As he looked around the field, he heard the desperate bleating sound coming from the other side of the field. He stalked over to where the animals were screaming and saw it was at the edge of a fairly deep ravine. It wasn’t so steep he couldn’t get down in it though, and when he saw that there was at least half a dozen of the damn sheep down in the ravine, he knew he didn’t have a choice. He whistled for the dog and watched as the bitch began to push back the other sheep so no others would fall into the ravine. With a sigh, Jack began the slippery descent to the sheep.

Ennis returned to base camp around mid afternoon. There was no sign that Jack had been to the base camp while he’d been gone. The note was still where he left it and all of the food and supplies were still untouched. He methodically unloaded the mule and the horse, putting away their supplies and marking each item off the list as he went. The man bringing the supplies had some extra aspirin in his truck and Ennis had gladly paid him for it. Ennis told the man how he’d been thrown the other day and how his hip was still bothering him. The man just shook his head. Ennis wasn’t sure if the man even understood what he’d said, but didn’t care. He’d gotten everything loaded up, thanked him, given him the list for next week and started back up the mountain, hoping that Jack would be waiting for him when he returned.

He glanced at his watch and saw that it was getting late in the afternoon. He knew it would take Jack every bit of two hours to get back to base camp from the field. Deciding to save him the trip, Ennis packed up a bag of food and slung a dry blanket over Cigar Butt’s back and climbed on. If he ran into Jack he’d accompany him back up to the field and they could have dinner…and hopefully dessert. Satisfied with his plan, he set off, leaving the base camp empty.

If Jack thought he hated sheep before today, then he knew that now he loathed them. He’d successfully gotten three of the eight (he’d initially miscounted) sheep out of the ravine and back up into the field. His muscles and lungs were screaming for relief, and he was shaking uncontrollably with the chill that he couldn’t get rid of, but he knew he had to keep working. He thought of shooting off one of the flares, alerting Ennis that he needed help, but he figured Ennis would get pissed at him if he wasted a flare on something like pulling the sheep out of the ravine.

Glancing at his watch, he could see it was just before noon. He thought for a moment about what day it was, and remembered that Ennis was supposed to go for supplies this morning. So even if he sent off the flare no one would see it. And Ennis would get pissed about that. He took a shuddering deep breath, coughed hard—it was unfortunately becoming a habit—and started back down the slope once again.

Ennis was bordering on frightened and way passed concerned by the time he reached the field. He hadn’t run into Jack on the way down, which told him that Jack hadn’t been planning on coming down to the base camp that evening. Realizing that Jack hadn’t been down to base camp at all had Ennis curious about what was going on. He guided Cigar Butt up to the field and looked around. He could see the sheep over on a far side, could see Jack’s mare tied up near them, but couldn’t see any sign of Jack.

“Jack?” He spoke loud enough that his voice carried over the field, and the animals raised their heads at the sudden sound. But there was no sign of Jack. Ennis pushed his hat back on his head and rubbed his forehead. Where could he be? The horse was here, he couldn’t have gone far. In the pit of his gut, Ennis could feel something akin to fear building.

“Jack?!” He guided Cigar Butt over to where all the animals were clustered together, where Jack’s horse was. He glanced around and saw the edge of the ravine, dangerously close to where the sheep were milling around. He saw the dogs pushing the sheep back, keeping them from dropping down into the ravine. Ennis’ eyes searched around cautiously, taking in every detail they could see, trying to find his Jack. He turned quickly at the sound, and his heart sank at what he saw.

Jack knew he was in over his head. He was so exhausted, he didn’t think he’d be able to make it up the incline again, especially carrying a wiggling, struggling, pitifully bleating, dumbass sheep. He weaved drunkenly on the side of the hill; there were still three more sheep to rescue. The wind rushed through the ravine again, and he shivered pitifully in the unbearable cold. He slung one of the sheep over his shoulders and started back up the side of the ravine. The sheep was struggling, desperate to be free, and its struggling knocked Jack off balance, sending him crashing to the ground, landing painfully on hands and knees. Tears sprang unbridled to his eyes and a desperate sob tore through his chest. He collapsed on the ground, a shivering, dirty, feverish mess, and told himself that he was just going to rest for a minute and then he would get the rest of the sheep out.

Ennis dropped off of Cigar Butt and tied him up next to Jack’s horse as soon as he heard the sheep in the ravine. He peered again over the side of the ravine, trying to formulate a plan in his head on what to do first. He could see three sheep at the bottom of the ravine—maybe 50 yards or so—and he could see a lump of blue material near the bottom. Ennis looked around, there was no one up there to help, only him, and he’d never felt so alone in his life—not even when his parents had died. Going back to the horse, he grabbed his rope, took a deep breath and set off down the side of the hill into the ravine, hoping the rope would be long enough to do what he needed it to do.

Once he reached the bottom of the hill, he dropped the rope on the ground—would worry about the sheep in a moment—and rushed over to Jack. He was face down in the dirt, sweaty and shivering, and Ennis thought for a moment that he looked more dead than alive. Then Jack coughed and it was deep and rattling in his chest, and Ennis knew he had to help him. He dropped to his knees beside Jack and carefully turned him over.

“Jack? Bud, you with it?”

Jack groaned and coughed and then began to shiver harder, whimpering pitifully as the wind blew over them again. Ennis took off his jacket and covered Jack with it. He quickly felt the fever hot skin and the wet clothes. He took a moment to run his fingers down Jack’s cheek and pressed a light kiss to the sweaty forehead.

“I’m here Lil Darlin’, gonna get you outta here bud, back to camp, get ya all taken care of. You just hold on.”

Ennis left Jack laying on the ground, covered in his jacket, and picked up the rope. He moved to the first sheep and tied the rope around its neck—secure but not choking it. He moved to the second sheep and tied it with the same piece of rope, and then also with the third sheep. He kept one end of the rope free and he wrapped it around his hand several times to make sure he had a good hold on it. Then he moved back to Jack. He carefully scooped him up and slung him over his shoulder. With one arm holding Jack steady and the other arm dragging the sheep behind him, Ennis slowly began inching his way up the side of the ravine.

Once they reached the top of the hill, Ennis carefully set Jack down in front of him, propped against his chest, and quickly untied the sheep. The dogs took over and began ushering the sheep away from the ravine. The horses wagged their ears and their tails and continued their happy munching on the grass. Ennis shifted Jack so he was lying on his back in the crook of Ennis’ arm.

“Jack wake up. Can ya hear me? Jack?”

Jack groaned and his eyelids fluttered. After a moment his eyes slit open.

“C-cow…b-b…” His words broke off into a harsh cough.

“Shh…don’t try n talk just now Jack. Gonna take you back to camp.”

“Sh-sheep-p…” Jack slowly stuttered out.

“Got them all outta that ravine. Got you out too. Everybody’s safe. Let’s get you up now, c’mon, nice n easy.”

Ennis hooked his hands under Jack’s arms and lifted him to his feet. Jack’s legs almost immediately buckled under his weight, but Ennis had a steadying hold on him and did not let him fall. Together they slowly made their way over to the horses. Ennis lifted Jack up onto Cigar Butt and untied Jack’s mare. He swung himself up onto Cigar Butt behind Jack who was shivering uncontrollably. Carefully he turned Jack around so he was side-saddled on the horse and could lean on Ennis easier. Ennis grabbed the blanket and wrapped it around Jack, pulling him close. He began guiding Cigar Butt and with the mare ponying along beside them they slowly began heading back toward base camp.

TBC…