Going Down, Chapter One: Eyes Wide Open
Chapter One: Eyes Wide Open
Pairing: Ennis/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Credit: Annie Proulx and Diana Ossana & Larry McMurtry. Thanks also to all the many incredibly talented writers out there who inspired me to finally write something myself--Madlori, Jenna, montana-crows, Cathalin, midwest_girl, debutante9, maidenofthesea, marakeshsparrow, louisev, amtamburo, midget-size, testa-dura, and many others. Finally, thank you very very much to Christine, my friend and beta and fellow ennisjack aficionado.
Feedback: I would love to get some, at my lj or at shieldmaid@gmail.com.
They shared a laugh then, and it seemed to Jack that this moment captured in its perfect clarity, its union of sky and fire and smoke, the sensations that had always brought and held them together. Ennis had thought about him during their long four years apart, had remembered even those details about their time up on the mountain that seemed insubstantial and fleeting. Jack had reckoned his harmonica no more than a cold companion, a piece of metal that needed Jack’s warm breath to bring its uncertain voice to life on those long dull lonely days. Instead, his toy had caught Ennis’s notice and brought his too-rare smile into bloom.
Now his hands were shaking with the knowledge that he was here again with Ennis, the one person in the world who had seen him as he really was. Ennis’s smile stretched against the usually rigid planes of his face, the glitter of his eyes rivaling the wide-slung, sugared sky. Jack looked down at the ground for a moment, swallowed hard against the emotions crowding out his breath.
“You know it could be like this, just like this, always,” he said, feeling his heart hammering in his chest, his voice just this side of cracking.
“Yeah?” said Ennis lazily. “How you figure that?”
Jack looked away again, fingering the brim of his hat where it rested on his knee. “What if . . . you and me had a little ranch somewhere, a little cow and calf operation. It’d be a sweet life.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. He could already see Ennis’s brow drawing in and the negative firming his upper lip. “Hell, Lureen’s old man, you bet he’d give me a down payment to get lost. More or less already said it.”
Ennis sat up, moving closer to the fire and half-turning his back so Jack could see only his profile. He shoved his hat onto his head and tilted his head down, a gesture with which Jack was only all too familiar. It meant that he wasn’t interested in continuing this discussion-or that he didn’t want to let Jack know what he was feeling. Too late, though: Jack could see Ennis’s full eyes gleaming in the shifting firelight.
“I told you,” Ennis said softly. “It ain’t gonna be that way.” He shook his head, staring out over the water. “You got your wife and baby in Texas, and I got my life in Riverton.” His lip trembled for a moment, so briefly Jack thought he’d imagined it.
Jack’s heart clenched; his throat filled with a nauseating mixture of disappointment, bitterness, and resignation. He hadn’t really thought Ennis would take him up on it, but he wasn’t prepared to be cut off so abruptly out here in the wilderness, where no one threatened the sanctity of their stolen time. At least look at me, he thought dully. Get the balls to tell me to my face you ain’t willin’ to spend no more time with me. What is this “thing” we got between us, anyway? Just afraid to speak its name? The fire cracked and spat; the river chuckled. Dark shapes wheeled overhead.
Finally Ennis spoke again. The story he told wasn’t new to Jack. Seemed like every backwater town had some such rumor blowing against the back doors of its dingy, run-out bars. What he didn’t like was its close connection to the boy Ennis. Could Ennis’s father have thought so little of another man’s love that he would take his own sons to witness the horror of its mutilation? Even worse, could he have done the job himself? Whatever Ennis himself might admit today about the roots of his tight-wound self, there could be no mistake that his father had a lot to do with the fact that Jack wasn’t going to be pulling up stakes from Childress any time soon.
“You seen this?” Jack felt sick. He wanted to reach out to Ennis, to give the hand trembling like a leaf something warm and strong to hold onto, but he knew Ennis didn’t want that right now. Instead he gripped his knees, breathing through his open mouth and looking across at Ennis’s stony profile. He could see Ennis’s jaw working, the muscles moving like ocean currents under his skin. Their positions, Ennis next to Jack but slightly ahead and speaking out into the great bowl of the sky, put him in mind of that chilly afternoon up on Brokeback, four years before. Ennis had broken the silence, admitting to the dogs and sheep and trees what he and Jack had done the night before, but before doing so his closed jaw had flexed so hard Jack could hear the tendons popping. He had felt dizzy and unreal then, too, listening to Ennis’s muttered I ain’t queer while his heart knew a different truth.
I need more than this, Jack thought. “Every four fuckin’ years?”
“If you can’t fix it, Jack,” Ennis said gently, “you gotta stand it.” His eyes were bright, breaking Jack’s heart. He pressed his lips together and sniffed almost inaudibly. A single tear trembled at the edge of a lash.
“For how long?” Jack had already forgiven Ennis his fears of being seen, of leaving his family, of being queer. No sound on earth would ever be more precious to him than his name spoken by this man. He shifted slightly on his rocky seat, leaning his upper body toward Ennis.
“As long as we can ride it.” Ennis swallowed, seemed about to turn toward Jack, settled his face back into its rigid lines. “There ain’t no reins on this one.”
Jack couldn’t help himself any longer. He reached out and touched the side of Ennis’s face, soothing the tense muscles, stroking his ear. He could feel Ennis’s jaw relaxing gradually under his hand as he caressed his cheek, savoring the rough stubble and warm skin. As Ennis dropped his head, trying to hide a renegade tear that sparkled just under his right eye, Jack moved his hand to the back of Ennis’s head, rubbing his fingers through the blond curls and trying to tell him something with his touch that he couldn’t yet put into words. Somehow, Ennis had managed to say it first, in spite of all that was preventing them from living the lives they wanted.
They sat by the fire in silence for a long time. Jack had moved from his seat to Ennis’s side and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Ennis’s uneven, hitching breaths had gradually subsided, and now he was leaning into Jack’s side, one hand gripping Jack’s left thigh. Jack shivered, noting that the fire had died down to embers.
“C’m’on, cowboy. We’d best get that bedroll out, if’n we don’t wanna freeze our balls off before mornin’.” Jack made as if to get up, but Ennis tightened his grip.
“My hand’s happy right where it is. Don’t need no bedroll to warm up my balls, though I guess your precious ones’re used to fancy treatment.”
“That ain’t necessarily true, though my ass’ll likely be too raw for more playin’ ‘less we find somethin’ softer. Now get on up.” Jack tugged on his hand, and Ennis let himself be pulled up to a standing position. They stumbled around the rocks and back toward their tent, out past the circle warmed by the fire’s glow earlier in the evening.
Jack knelt to untangle the ties at the tent’s opening while Ennis retrieved the scratchy blankets and canvas tarp they had left in an untidy heap while setting up camp. He bent down and slapped Jack’s ass; Jack yelped, whipped around, and pulled Ennis into the tent with him. They landed hard, breathing harder, belt buckles clinking and Ennis’s right knee forcing its way between Jack’s legs. Ennis shoved the blankets into the corner and dove for Jack’s mouth, sliding one hand along the side of his face as their lips and tongues met. He tasted of beer, cigarette smoke, and salt, as familiar to Jack as the smell of his own sweat. He smiled through the kiss, taking in a breath so he could speak.
“No you don’t, cowboy, not until I get somethin’ dry down on this ground. I ain’t spendin’ the rest of the week with mud ground into my ass.” Jack pushed up on Ennis’s shoulder so he could roll to one side and pull on the tarp. Ennis sighed and rolled his eyes, but sat up so he could help Jack drag the tarp into the middle of the tent. They repositioned themselves on top of it, on top of each other. Jack pulled Ennis’s shirt out of his jeans so he could feel the bare skin of his back. Ennis’s body was hot, his muscles tense with desire. Ennis leaned back for a moment to unbutton his coat and shirt, shrugging them both off impatiently. Jack took this opportunity to run his hands down Ennis’s chest and belly, lingering over the hard knots of his nipples and the sensitive area around his navel. Ennis moved his own hands to Jack’s chest, stroking the firm muscles through his shirt before laying his body bare. He reached over to grab a blanket and pulled it over them as Jack went to work on their belt buckles.
Jack gasped as he slid a hand down his own stomach and into his jeans. “Lift up a minute, would you,” he said to Ennis, and wriggled out of his jeans. His cock sprang forward, hard and smooth and leaking at the tip, a gift Jack was proud to show to the man on top of him. Ennis copied him, kneeling over Jack to pull off his jeans and boots. Jack kicked his own clothing aside and pulled Ennis down again, so he could feel complete in the only way possible, solid angles and soft yieldings and heavy, satisfying weight all the way up and down. Ennis moaned, arching his neck and throwing his head back as their cocks rubbed together. He set his knees on either side of Jack’s hips and squeezed his body between his thighs. Jack’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he reached around to cup Ennis’s ass with both hands, a ragged whine escaping from the back of his throat.
Deciding what he wanted, Jack sat up, his hands supporting Ennis’s back, and laid the other man down. Ennis lay on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and reached for him. Jack sank into a deep kiss, pressing his body against Ennis’s and feeling Ennis’s breath filling his own lungs. He kissed his way down Ennis’s neck, nipped at his ears, and tasted the hollow in his collarbone where sweat always pooled after a day outdoors. Both of their bodies were slick with sweat in spite of the crisp night air; Jack panted at the sensation of his own dick sliding down Ennis’s stomach and thighs. He traced a line with his tongue from Ennis’s collarbone straight down to his navel, then stopped to caress his belly gently, knowing how much that part of Ennis liked attention.
“Think you like it when I follow that happy trail, dontcha, Ennis,” he whispered into his ear. Ennis shifted and sighed, never one for talking during the act, but the way his hips were thrusting answered Jack’s question for him. Jack slid down still farther, nosing his way through the thatch of hair and breathing along the damp creases of his skin. Ennis shuddered when Jack finally took him in his mouth and slipped one hand down to feel his balls. Jack sucked slow and careful, tasting the mix of flavors that belonged to Ennis alone, sliding his mouth all along Ennis’s length until the head of his shaft bumped against the back of Jack’s mouth. Ennis stiffened, clutching at Jack’s hair, and Jack withdrew his mouth gradually, lingering for a moment at the tip.
He turned on his side, and Ennis spooned up behind him, reaching around with one arm to rub circles on his chest and stomach before taking his cock in hand. Jack groaned and threw his head back against Ennis’s shoulder, reveling in the powerful sensation building in his body. “Do it, Ennis,” he breathed. “Don’t make me wait.” Ennis propped himself up on one elbow, his other arm wrapped around Jack’s chest, and slid unhurriedly inside. Jack leaned back, and Ennis hugged him with both arms. Jack cried out as Ennis hit the sweet, fiery spot within; Ennis shifted slightly, holding onto Jack’s shoulder and continuing to thrust at that angle while he stroked Jack with his other hand. Jack seized Ennis’s hand and pumped, hard and fast, until everything spasmed and his mind went blank with pleasure. When he returned to awareness, Ennis was holding onto his hip in the throes of his own orgasm, grunting as though the sounds were being pulled out of him by force. After a few seconds, Ennis’s moans trailed off into a final higher murmur, almost a whimper, and Jack wondered.
When he turned over to face Ennis again, Jack was not surprised to find him drowsing. He touched Ennis’s forehead, feeling a tender warmth spread across his chest at the sight of Ennis’s sleepy features. Ennis jerked suddenly, his foot striking Jack’s calf under the blanket. “Huh?” he muttered. He turned over onto his other side and drew the blanket up to his chin.
“Nothin’, Ennis,” Jack murmured. “Jus’ go to sleep. It’s all right.” He pressed himself up against Ennis’s back, seeking the heat from his body to ward off the chill of a strange night spent on a lonely mountain. To his surprise, Ennis reached back and clasped his hand, pulling Jack’s arm up around his own waist. Almost immediately, Ennis’s heavy, even breathing signaled sleep, but Jack took comfort from their shared embrace. He could almost imagine that they were settled together, looking forward to a long stretch of days without a parting.
Jack was tired, but he didn’t sleep a wink. All night, he lay with his eyes wide open, staring at Ennis’s back swathed in a rough green Army blanket. He thought about sheep, and horses, and the sides of a canvas tent billowing in and out. He thought about rodeo clowns, and too many beers drunk alone in too many bars, and a red cowboy hat covered in dust. He thought about his baby son and his pretty wife and a higher-paying job than Ennis would probably ever hope to have. But mostly he thought about the mountain. Eight weeks spent on Brokeback. Four years trying to forget. Here they were, up on top of another one. Would they ever go down?
Pairing: Ennis/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Credit: Annie Proulx and Diana Ossana & Larry McMurtry. Thanks also to all the many incredibly talented writers out there who inspired me to finally write something myself--Madlori, Jenna, montana-crows, Cathalin, midwest_girl, debutante9, maidenofthesea, marakeshsparrow, louisev, amtamburo, midget-size, testa-dura, and many others. Finally, thank you very very much to Christine, my friend and beta and fellow ennisjack aficionado.
Feedback: I would love to get some, at my lj or at shieldmaid@gmail.com.
They shared a laugh then, and it seemed to Jack that this moment captured in its perfect clarity, its union of sky and fire and smoke, the sensations that had always brought and held them together. Ennis had thought about him during their long four years apart, had remembered even those details about their time up on the mountain that seemed insubstantial and fleeting. Jack had reckoned his harmonica no more than a cold companion, a piece of metal that needed Jack’s warm breath to bring its uncertain voice to life on those long dull lonely days. Instead, his toy had caught Ennis’s notice and brought his too-rare smile into bloom.
Now his hands were shaking with the knowledge that he was here again with Ennis, the one person in the world who had seen him as he really was. Ennis’s smile stretched against the usually rigid planes of his face, the glitter of his eyes rivaling the wide-slung, sugared sky. Jack looked down at the ground for a moment, swallowed hard against the emotions crowding out his breath.
“You know it could be like this, just like this, always,” he said, feeling his heart hammering in his chest, his voice just this side of cracking.
“Yeah?” said Ennis lazily. “How you figure that?”
Jack looked away again, fingering the brim of his hat where it rested on his knee. “What if . . . you and me had a little ranch somewhere, a little cow and calf operation. It’d be a sweet life.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. He could already see Ennis’s brow drawing in and the negative firming his upper lip. “Hell, Lureen’s old man, you bet he’d give me a down payment to get lost. More or less already said it.”
Ennis sat up, moving closer to the fire and half-turning his back so Jack could see only his profile. He shoved his hat onto his head and tilted his head down, a gesture with which Jack was only all too familiar. It meant that he wasn’t interested in continuing this discussion-or that he didn’t want to let Jack know what he was feeling. Too late, though: Jack could see Ennis’s full eyes gleaming in the shifting firelight.
“I told you,” Ennis said softly. “It ain’t gonna be that way.” He shook his head, staring out over the water. “You got your wife and baby in Texas, and I got my life in Riverton.” His lip trembled for a moment, so briefly Jack thought he’d imagined it.
Jack’s heart clenched; his throat filled with a nauseating mixture of disappointment, bitterness, and resignation. He hadn’t really thought Ennis would take him up on it, but he wasn’t prepared to be cut off so abruptly out here in the wilderness, where no one threatened the sanctity of their stolen time. At least look at me, he thought dully. Get the balls to tell me to my face you ain’t willin’ to spend no more time with me. What is this “thing” we got between us, anyway? Just afraid to speak its name? The fire cracked and spat; the river chuckled. Dark shapes wheeled overhead.
Finally Ennis spoke again. The story he told wasn’t new to Jack. Seemed like every backwater town had some such rumor blowing against the back doors of its dingy, run-out bars. What he didn’t like was its close connection to the boy Ennis. Could Ennis’s father have thought so little of another man’s love that he would take his own sons to witness the horror of its mutilation? Even worse, could he have done the job himself? Whatever Ennis himself might admit today about the roots of his tight-wound self, there could be no mistake that his father had a lot to do with the fact that Jack wasn’t going to be pulling up stakes from Childress any time soon.
“You seen this?” Jack felt sick. He wanted to reach out to Ennis, to give the hand trembling like a leaf something warm and strong to hold onto, but he knew Ennis didn’t want that right now. Instead he gripped his knees, breathing through his open mouth and looking across at Ennis’s stony profile. He could see Ennis’s jaw working, the muscles moving like ocean currents under his skin. Their positions, Ennis next to Jack but slightly ahead and speaking out into the great bowl of the sky, put him in mind of that chilly afternoon up on Brokeback, four years before. Ennis had broken the silence, admitting to the dogs and sheep and trees what he and Jack had done the night before, but before doing so his closed jaw had flexed so hard Jack could hear the tendons popping. He had felt dizzy and unreal then, too, listening to Ennis’s muttered I ain’t queer while his heart knew a different truth.
I need more than this, Jack thought. “Every four fuckin’ years?”
“If you can’t fix it, Jack,” Ennis said gently, “you gotta stand it.” His eyes were bright, breaking Jack’s heart. He pressed his lips together and sniffed almost inaudibly. A single tear trembled at the edge of a lash.
“For how long?” Jack had already forgiven Ennis his fears of being seen, of leaving his family, of being queer. No sound on earth would ever be more precious to him than his name spoken by this man. He shifted slightly on his rocky seat, leaning his upper body toward Ennis.
“As long as we can ride it.” Ennis swallowed, seemed about to turn toward Jack, settled his face back into its rigid lines. “There ain’t no reins on this one.”
Jack couldn’t help himself any longer. He reached out and touched the side of Ennis’s face, soothing the tense muscles, stroking his ear. He could feel Ennis’s jaw relaxing gradually under his hand as he caressed his cheek, savoring the rough stubble and warm skin. As Ennis dropped his head, trying to hide a renegade tear that sparkled just under his right eye, Jack moved his hand to the back of Ennis’s head, rubbing his fingers through the blond curls and trying to tell him something with his touch that he couldn’t yet put into words. Somehow, Ennis had managed to say it first, in spite of all that was preventing them from living the lives they wanted.
They sat by the fire in silence for a long time. Jack had moved from his seat to Ennis’s side and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Ennis’s uneven, hitching breaths had gradually subsided, and now he was leaning into Jack’s side, one hand gripping Jack’s left thigh. Jack shivered, noting that the fire had died down to embers.
“C’m’on, cowboy. We’d best get that bedroll out, if’n we don’t wanna freeze our balls off before mornin’.” Jack made as if to get up, but Ennis tightened his grip.
“My hand’s happy right where it is. Don’t need no bedroll to warm up my balls, though I guess your precious ones’re used to fancy treatment.”
“That ain’t necessarily true, though my ass’ll likely be too raw for more playin’ ‘less we find somethin’ softer. Now get on up.” Jack tugged on his hand, and Ennis let himself be pulled up to a standing position. They stumbled around the rocks and back toward their tent, out past the circle warmed by the fire’s glow earlier in the evening.
Jack knelt to untangle the ties at the tent’s opening while Ennis retrieved the scratchy blankets and canvas tarp they had left in an untidy heap while setting up camp. He bent down and slapped Jack’s ass; Jack yelped, whipped around, and pulled Ennis into the tent with him. They landed hard, breathing harder, belt buckles clinking and Ennis’s right knee forcing its way between Jack’s legs. Ennis shoved the blankets into the corner and dove for Jack’s mouth, sliding one hand along the side of his face as their lips and tongues met. He tasted of beer, cigarette smoke, and salt, as familiar to Jack as the smell of his own sweat. He smiled through the kiss, taking in a breath so he could speak.
“No you don’t, cowboy, not until I get somethin’ dry down on this ground. I ain’t spendin’ the rest of the week with mud ground into my ass.” Jack pushed up on Ennis’s shoulder so he could roll to one side and pull on the tarp. Ennis sighed and rolled his eyes, but sat up so he could help Jack drag the tarp into the middle of the tent. They repositioned themselves on top of it, on top of each other. Jack pulled Ennis’s shirt out of his jeans so he could feel the bare skin of his back. Ennis’s body was hot, his muscles tense with desire. Ennis leaned back for a moment to unbutton his coat and shirt, shrugging them both off impatiently. Jack took this opportunity to run his hands down Ennis’s chest and belly, lingering over the hard knots of his nipples and the sensitive area around his navel. Ennis moved his own hands to Jack’s chest, stroking the firm muscles through his shirt before laying his body bare. He reached over to grab a blanket and pulled it over them as Jack went to work on their belt buckles.
Jack gasped as he slid a hand down his own stomach and into his jeans. “Lift up a minute, would you,” he said to Ennis, and wriggled out of his jeans. His cock sprang forward, hard and smooth and leaking at the tip, a gift Jack was proud to show to the man on top of him. Ennis copied him, kneeling over Jack to pull off his jeans and boots. Jack kicked his own clothing aside and pulled Ennis down again, so he could feel complete in the only way possible, solid angles and soft yieldings and heavy, satisfying weight all the way up and down. Ennis moaned, arching his neck and throwing his head back as their cocks rubbed together. He set his knees on either side of Jack’s hips and squeezed his body between his thighs. Jack’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he reached around to cup Ennis’s ass with both hands, a ragged whine escaping from the back of his throat.
Deciding what he wanted, Jack sat up, his hands supporting Ennis’s back, and laid the other man down. Ennis lay on his back, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and reached for him. Jack sank into a deep kiss, pressing his body against Ennis’s and feeling Ennis’s breath filling his own lungs. He kissed his way down Ennis’s neck, nipped at his ears, and tasted the hollow in his collarbone where sweat always pooled after a day outdoors. Both of their bodies were slick with sweat in spite of the crisp night air; Jack panted at the sensation of his own dick sliding down Ennis’s stomach and thighs. He traced a line with his tongue from Ennis’s collarbone straight down to his navel, then stopped to caress his belly gently, knowing how much that part of Ennis liked attention.
“Think you like it when I follow that happy trail, dontcha, Ennis,” he whispered into his ear. Ennis shifted and sighed, never one for talking during the act, but the way his hips were thrusting answered Jack’s question for him. Jack slid down still farther, nosing his way through the thatch of hair and breathing along the damp creases of his skin. Ennis shuddered when Jack finally took him in his mouth and slipped one hand down to feel his balls. Jack sucked slow and careful, tasting the mix of flavors that belonged to Ennis alone, sliding his mouth all along Ennis’s length until the head of his shaft bumped against the back of Jack’s mouth. Ennis stiffened, clutching at Jack’s hair, and Jack withdrew his mouth gradually, lingering for a moment at the tip.
He turned on his side, and Ennis spooned up behind him, reaching around with one arm to rub circles on his chest and stomach before taking his cock in hand. Jack groaned and threw his head back against Ennis’s shoulder, reveling in the powerful sensation building in his body. “Do it, Ennis,” he breathed. “Don’t make me wait.” Ennis propped himself up on one elbow, his other arm wrapped around Jack’s chest, and slid unhurriedly inside. Jack leaned back, and Ennis hugged him with both arms. Jack cried out as Ennis hit the sweet, fiery spot within; Ennis shifted slightly, holding onto Jack’s shoulder and continuing to thrust at that angle while he stroked Jack with his other hand. Jack seized Ennis’s hand and pumped, hard and fast, until everything spasmed and his mind went blank with pleasure. When he returned to awareness, Ennis was holding onto his hip in the throes of his own orgasm, grunting as though the sounds were being pulled out of him by force. After a few seconds, Ennis’s moans trailed off into a final higher murmur, almost a whimper, and Jack wondered.
When he turned over to face Ennis again, Jack was not surprised to find him drowsing. He touched Ennis’s forehead, feeling a tender warmth spread across his chest at the sight of Ennis’s sleepy features. Ennis jerked suddenly, his foot striking Jack’s calf under the blanket. “Huh?” he muttered. He turned over onto his other side and drew the blanket up to his chin.
“Nothin’, Ennis,” Jack murmured. “Jus’ go to sleep. It’s all right.” He pressed himself up against Ennis’s back, seeking the heat from his body to ward off the chill of a strange night spent on a lonely mountain. To his surprise, Ennis reached back and clasped his hand, pulling Jack’s arm up around his own waist. Almost immediately, Ennis’s heavy, even breathing signaled sleep, but Jack took comfort from their shared embrace. He could almost imagine that they were settled together, looking forward to a long stretch of days without a parting.
Jack was tired, but he didn’t sleep a wink. All night, he lay with his eyes wide open, staring at Ennis’s back swathed in a rough green Army blanket. He thought about sheep, and horses, and the sides of a canvas tent billowing in and out. He thought about rodeo clowns, and too many beers drunk alone in too many bars, and a red cowboy hat covered in dust. He thought about his baby son and his pretty wife and a higher-paying job than Ennis would probably ever hope to have. But mostly he thought about the mountain. Eight weeks spent on Brokeback. Four years trying to forget. Here they were, up on top of another one. Would they ever go down?