Don't own BBM. I wasn't happy with the end, or at least, I thought there was one last thing Ennis should have done before the end. So, here's my attempt at closure.

.x. Wings .x.

Jack fucking Twist. Jack fucking Twist was the reason Ennis del Mar found himself standing on the lush green grass surrounding Brokeback Mountain. Jack fucking Twist was the reason he was standing on the edges of that crystalline blue lake, looking out into the skyline. Jack fucking Twist was the reason he had built a fire from twigs on top of a large, flat rock.

You have no idea how bad it gets…

Ennis was not an optimistic man—he was cynical and dark, brutally so at times, and yet had had somehow managed to believe in the possibility of love. Not just believe in it, but feel it, with every fiber of his gruff being, and he had felt it with Jack fucking Twist.

At the moment, Ennis felt himself torn between two feelings. The cynical part of him felt scorned by the singing larks and gentle wind, but it was the loving side of him that won the battle. He was not being spited by the weather—Jack was being honored. This was the way Jack remembered Brokeback Mountain. This was the way Jack loved Brokeback Mountain.

There ain't never enough time, never enough…

Ennis started the fire with a box of matches he had carried in his pocket. In his calloused hands he held a red handkerchief, his only reminder of Jack he had apart from the shirt and jacket. He had taken it from Jack's room during his only visit to Jack's childhood home. It had been the day that he had learned Jack's final wish would be ignored. It was the day he had been determined to make sure it came true.

As his hand trembled above the flame, he thought he should say a few final words first.

So what we've got now is Brokeback Mountain! Everything's built on that. That's all we've got, boy, fucking all.

Ennis was a tight-lipped person. He rarely spoke, and when he did his words were in limited quantities, as though they had been rationed. No matter what, however, he never spoke about his feelings. Except for now. He owed it to Jack. Sticking to tradition, however, his eulogy was limited.

Jack, I swear…

"I…I'm sorry," he said, his voice rough from disuse. "For not accepting this. Us. Forgive me."

He dropped the handkerchief into the crackling blaze.

I wish I knew how to quit you…

Ennis couldn't pull his eyes away from the cloth as the fire quickly consumed it. It was a crude form of cremation, but essentially appropriate for the way their relationship had been carried out. While he wished that he could have strewn Jack's real ashes on the ground surrounding him, this was the best he could do.

If you can't fix it, you've gotta stand it…

When all of the wood and fabric had been reduced to black dust, Ennis scooped it up in his hands. He raised them so that they were level with his mouth and gently blew, directing the ashes toward the lake and the area surrounding it. He gave Jack wings. When his palms were empty, he looked down at them, feeling a hole in himself.

"Jack, I swear…I will always love you."

This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation…

Ennis stepped into his car, drinking in the sight of Brokeback Mountain one last time—he would not be returning. He had done what Jack had wanted, and, more importantly, he had said goodbye.