DISCLAIMER: Wildfire belongs to ABC Family. So not my property.

All paths are the same, leading nowhere. Therefore, pick a path with heart.

- Carlos Castaneda

Chapter 1

Kris Furillo felt like she couldn't breathe. She felt Wildfire shifting between her legs, inching back and forth, and she briefly remembered when Wildfire wouldn't ride unless he had that goat nearby. A smile crossed her face – stretching from one side of her face to the other — as she remembered Todd and Henry standing there, one young, one old, perfectly matched as a team. Kris looked into the crowd, but it was only a blur of flesh tones and splinters of unnatural brightness. She squinted her eyes but she still couldn't make out the faces of anyone there -- I see you -- and the smile faded away as she realized that right now, she was on her own. She hadn't felt this lonely since she had first come to Raintree. How did jockeys survive this without going crazy? And she automatically glanced towards Tina. Kris glared.

For some reason, that one action made her feel better. She managed not to squeak when the gate was lifted, but she didn't urge Wildfire on, either, and it was only through his good sense and great training that they didn't just stand there like dopey-faced statues. As they galloped forward, Kris knew with a sudden pragmatic certainty that she was a very inexperienced rider on a very experienced horse.

She felt like she wasn't really awake. She was moving – urging Wildfire on, leading him around and behind and irrepressibly forward - but they weren't the conscious motions of reason. Kris dimly remembered this dim dizziness and lightheaded impossibility from when she was taking painkillers, Tina's painkillers, and she wanted to glance over to see where Tina was, but how could she? She was blind – "I see you," he had said to her, in the soft sweet heartbreaking voice he used when he was making love to her -- and deaf and even as she heard a voice saying, "Woah, Wildfire," she was thinking of Junior inside of her, and she felt a purely female thrill of delight as she and Wildfire passed the finish line, in first place.

--

It was when she was sweating and panting and surrounded by the Ritter family – her loving her happy heronly family – as lights flashed in her face that she thought to look for Junior.

"Matt," she said, then, "Matt," and finally, in his ear, "Matt." and he turned. "Where's Junior?" she shouted. He hesitated. He shrugged.

"No idea!"

She looked around at the throng of people shouting Kris, Wildfire, Kris, and didn't see him anywhere.

"Kris!" "Over here!" "How does it feel…!" and she smiled for the cameras.

--

It was two in the morning and she was slightly drunk when she stumbled into her trailer. She was humming some song from hours before, an old sixties song about wild horses and loneliness, and didn't bother to turn the lights on before she started unzipping her dress.

"I want you to know that I'm an honorable man," and it was the familiar voice, familiar words, that made her know his next sentence. "I could have waited just five minutes – "

"And I would have been entirely – " she started to finish, and he kissed her.

Drunk on liquor and pride and lust, she kissed him back. And it was a good thing that he was there, because she wouldn't have been able to unzip her dress on her own. It was a good thing that he was there, because now that she thought of it, nothing would have been a better way to end the night than to make wild passionate love with Junior until four in the morning. Afterwards, they tangled together like puppies, and before she fell asleep, she thought what a good thing it was that he was there.

--

When Kris woke up, she wondered if she might be dead.

Everything in her ached. The muscles in her legs were seized up in agonizing knots. Her head throbbed. Was there any skin left on her feet? And her arm was asleep.

It took a moment to realize that the last part wasn't the result of riding and drinking and sex, but of Junior weighing a ton. And, apparently, cuddling.

"Junior," she rasped, and, yeah, her throat hurt too. "Junior, roll off me," and he just mumbled something embarrassing and obscene and yanked all the covers to his chin. Kris yanked them back. "Junior –"

"Kris!"

She knew that voice – "Pablo!" – and sitting bolt upright didn't help either –

"Shit."

Junior was awake, at least.

"Get off –"

Pablo stepped inside, blinked, and stepped right back outside again.

"Fuck."

Yeah, Junior was awake. And naked. And for six in the morning, he seemed very…

"Junior," and Kris couldn't help laughing.

"Mmm…"

She was tempted. But then she remembered Pablo. And Wildfire. And the Ritters. So she stood up, and gasped at the immediate shock of pain that rushed through her. Kris hadn't felt this lousy since the first time she rode Wildfire, back at LaGrange. She rubbed her leg absently.

"Did you know," Junior said, in a conversational tone, "that you look absolutely adorable when you're naked? It's a good look for you. You should try it out more often."

"Junior, I really don't have time. Pablo was just in, and I'm probably late for chores already…" She pulled on underwear, bra, and shirt as she spoke, and then turned to face him.

He was reclining on his elbows, stretched across the little bed in the trailer, his feet practically dangling off the footboard. His hair was mussed, his eyes were bloodshot, and there was an ugly red mark on his cheek from sleeping awkwardly on a shared pillow. And Kris knew she was in love with him.

"Listen, I'll – I'll call you later, okay? I have to – later, okay?" She was stammering and tripping over her feet. When he stood up, she blushed.

"Okay," he said, quietly, and then gave her a slow, soft kiss on the mouth. "Later." He grabbed his clothes off the floor, pushed open the door, and paused. "And, Kris?"

"Yeah?" Soft, weak, embarrassingly breathless.

"Don't forget to put on your pants."