Disclaimer: I don't own any copyrighted characters.
Story: Perfect Image
Email Me At: Authoress: lilyqueen777
Continued Off: A Dad's Wish
A/n: BTW, I'm a Junior/Kris shipper, but in this story, it seems the boat has sunken…
Summary: Her dad left her mother, and her mother left her. Now it's her turn to leave and save herself.
Word Count: 4,561
Chapter One
The Choices We Make
"Kristine… Kristine Amalia Furillo…" The 4-year-old squinted and looked up at her father.
"Papa?" She whispered, her brown eyes wide.
Kris awoke with a start. Her heart continued to pound in her chest, and she threw the sheets off her sweaty body as she trudged over to the small countertop and filled a glass with tap water.
Leaning against the counter for support, she glanced around her, then at the clock. It was still dark out, at 1'am.
"Damnit." She muttered to herself. The dream was nothing if not stupid. She had never known her father, and didn't plan on meeting him in the future. Not to mention no one at Raintree, with the exception of Jean and Pablo, knew her full name.
Pablo… She laughed when she remembered walking in on him and whatshername. It had been a bit shocking at the time, not to mention disturbing, but all in all, it gave her and Matt a series of good laughs.
Matt Ritter. God, he infuriated her so much. Jesus, everybody was infuriating her as of late. Junior, Pablo, Jean, (although she'd never tell or show her that.)… It was ridiculous.
Junior. She broke up with Junior because… because… Oh God. She loved him, but she didn't have feelings for him. She loved him… But she couldn't stand it. He had made her cry so much the day she thought he was dead. It was just too much when he showed up again, unscathed and unharmed. She couldn't handle his kind of love—and she was sick and tired of being the one who had to try and fit in. Sometimes, with Junior, it felt like she was there to prove that Junior wasn't his father. And she didn't want to be leverage. Not again.
Matt was different. He wasn't attracted to her, he was attracted to the thought of her. Jailbird, dangerous, mysterious… everything that she wasn't. Except the jailbird part. That was partially true.
Pablo. What was up with Pablo?
Kris gave a dry laugh. Pablo was Pablo. He sometimes acted like the father she never had, and she resented him a bit for that. He was able to make her bow her head in shame with a single sentence, and somehow possessed the means to make her pine for his acceptance. She hadn't had that problem with anybody before, save her mother. What made Pablo so special?
Then… There was Jean. She meant well, she really did. Jean was an amazing person—all the Ritters were. But somehow, Jean had been able to salvage a bit of herself in Kris, and Kris found herself trying to live up to Jean's expectations. Seriously, though. How did Jean Ritter, mother of two sons, manage to find some similarities between herself and Kristine "Jailbird" Furillo?
Kris glanced back over at the clock, almost as if willing the hands to move forward. 2'am. She had been up an hour. There was no going back to sleep at this point.
She heaved a sigh and placed the glass of water in the sink before kneeling down and rifling through her drawers. Shrugging out of her ripped T-shirt and sweatpants, she yanked on a pair of jeans and a black short sleeved T, and pulled on a pair of wool socks. From the frost on the window, she bet that it was probably a cold morning.
Stepping into her tennis shoes, Kris exited her trailer and walked towards the stables. Looked like Wildfire was getting an early visit.
Entering the barn, Kris allowed her eyes to adjust to the dim light that illuminated the place. Three stalls down was where she was headed.
Kris silently made her way to the paddock and slipped in. Wildfire looked at her through hooded eyelids, and gave a soft whicker.
"Hey boy. I'm gonna be with you for a while. That alright?" Kris asked quietly, observing him. He seemed to know exactly what she was on about, because his head bobbed slightly, making her smile.
-
Pablo made his way around the stables, but stopped when he heard her voice.
He didn't say anything as she entered the stall, or as she talked to Wildfire in soothing tones. She was more like him than she knew, and that unnerved him, to say the least.
Leaning against the wall of the entrance to the stables, he folded his arms across his chest, lost in thought. She looked so much like her mother, though. Instead of blonde hair, she had brown, and instead of hazel blue eyes, she possessed dark mahogany eyes. The prominent features were both his and… Her mother's. Even at this point, he couldn't bring himself to say her mother's name.
Needless to say, it was the little details that struck him most. Her nose and the shape of her eyes were her mother's. The coloring was purely his, which gave him a sort of satisfaction that only your flesh and blood could give you.
He remembered when he first got the news. His fiancée was pregnant. It had startled him, and he had gone outside for a breather. Pablo gave a quiet, dry laugh, making sure to not give his presence away. 19-years-old, limelight, Pablo Betart.
Was He…
Involved In A Gang? Yes.
Wrecked Over Becoming A Father? Yes.
A Familiar Face With The Police? Yes.
Not Thinking When He Jacked That Car? Yes.
Drugged With Stupid When He Got Involved In The Gunfight Off Boulevard? Yes.
Freaked Out When The Judge Sentenced Him To A Year? Yes.
Did He…
Leave And Never Look Back When He Got Out? Yes.
Dedicated To: Lilyqueen777
-Thanks for letting me continue this!-