COMPLETE: (Original, Rapidash Racing) Riding Fire

[Timarelay]

I *think* this is very likely going to be PG-13. I doubt it's going to be R, but who knows? I don't. It is a very loosely planned fic, but I hope not so loosely planned that I will stop in the middle and realise I have no plot.

I shall warn you right now that there may be hints of things in here that you may not agree with. It could be shounen-ai, it could be shoujo-ai, it could be violence, and it could be language. These are not, however, the focus of the story. Unless I change my mind. ^_~

[Edit: Okay, the story's almost done and in my opinion, it's pretty PG, except for the occasional swear. And there's the tiniest bit of shounen-ai.]

--------------------------------------------------------
Riding Fire

Prologue

The world of racing. A true world unto itself, not simply a figure of a speech. It was a culture found within cultures, spread all over the physical world, and twice a year it became its own society, its own government, its own being, all concentrated in one little place graced with the honor of being the racing venue for that season.

It was an obsession that gripped the soul, corrupting some and saving others. Owning a prize Rapidash could bring about an avarice that only death could cure; tending to a gentle ponyta could soothe the soul. Racing was a thrill, a wonderfully dangerous thrill, and people did everything they could to be a part of it. Owners got lucky. Breeding or buying the perfect Rapidash took skill, but luck, luck was the key. Good trainers were hard to find, gentle but firm souls that Rapidash trusted, obeyed, and learned from. Jockeys were rare. Jockeys, like Rapidash, were bred and trained; short, light individuals with an affinity for adrenaline but just enough purity to not be burned. Lads and lasses were people that could have been trainers, could have been jockeys, but fell short, and went for the only way they could still be close to those magnificent beasts.

And then the spectators, that wild mob of people that helped the sport to thrive as it did.

It was beautiful; it was horrible. It was Rapidash Racing.

---------------------------------------

She stood as tall as she could, hands clasped behind her back to give an air of professionalism. Her jeans were clean and ironed, her t-shirt, brand-new, and her sneakers, spotless. A gentle, "can-do" smile was fixed on her full but not pouty lips, and together with her wavy, dark hair, they drew attention away from the nervous tic in her left eyebrow and the way her eyes darted around anxiously. She answered every question in a crisp, clear voice, faltering only a few times when she was not quite sure what the best possible answer would be. Little fault could be found in her overall manner, and she had planned it so. She wanted this job. No, she needed this job.

She crossed her fingers when the tall woman with the dark blonde hair in the crisp business suit went over to her boss. A flutter of hope rose in her chest when the woman turned and pointed at her, and she almost squeaked with joy. And when the woman walked over to her with her boss, it took all her self-control to resist grinning and hugging who she hoped was her new temporary employer.

"Amity?"

"Yes sir?" No overt enthusiasm crept into her tone, only a desire to serve and please.

"Ms. Eve Tristen has decided to employ you for this racing season. I trust you will do a good job." He smiled, but it was not kindly, it was the way one smiled politely when talking to a servant.

"Of course sir." She turned to look at the woman, noticing that her eyes were brown, but not a soft brown, not at all. Yet she did not look cruel, and that was all that mattered to Amity. "When would you like me to start, ma'am?"

Ms. Tristen looked at Amity, almost as if she had not heard the question. Then she pulled a small planner out of her purse, and she opened it, looking for something. "Tomorrow would be perfect," she said, sounding exactly like the business woman she appeared to be.

"I look forward to working with your Rapidash." Amity bowed her head a little, eyes fixed on the floor, a gesture she had been taught and that was now instinctual when talking to a superior.

And then her boss and her new employer nodded and walked off, probably discussing her wages and her accommodation for this season. Amity was only a lass, a stable hand. It was her place to be concerned about the rapidash; it was not her place to be concerned about herself.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Oh, and I'm sorry for any spelling errors and such. ^^;; I appear not to have Microsoft Works anymore (never had Word) and therefore no spellchecker.

Critisism is much appreciated.

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Nice! Very nice! Love the descriptions!

 

[Fig]

Nice prologue, with lots of nicey description as Blackjack already said

Side note : great to have you writing again T

 

[Kinglerlord2]

I think Damian said it best:
Great to see you writing again.

I envy your description you set the scene well and immediately went about making sure the readers knew what kind of character they were dealing with. Loved it.

 

[Timarelay]

Blackjack Gabbiani - First, what do people call you for short? ^^ And thank you for noticing the description. I paid more attention to it than I usually do. This is a different style for me.

B - Hi-hi ol' wolf! And I'm very happy to be writing again. ^_^ I just hope I'll finish it ^^

K2 - *waves* I'd tell you where I picked up this description style but honestly, I can't remember I do rather like writing it though. Too bad there's no way I could carry out an entire fic like this ^^;;

And thanks for reading and replying ^__^ Now I need write more and hope I can maintain a regular updating schedule ^^

 

[anonym0usie]

Wow that was quite cool. She seemed so beautiful at first, but then you mentioned her quirky faults. Much more realistic. Love how you described the passion of it all, and glad that your muse seems to have returned!

 

[Timarelay]

anonym0usie - Hee, thank you ^_^ Glad that the passion was noticeable. Plays a big part in the story. It's being rather odd and problematic to write though. I'm glad it's not a long story ^^;;; My muse has returned only barely.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter One

The rapidash quivered expectantly, muscles tense and ready to spring into action. Diamond Death was a new racer, a freshly evolved pokemon that wanted to test out her new strength all day every day. A cool human hand landed on her neck, and she tried to shy away, but realized she had no room. Frustrated, she sought out human feet with her hooves, but missed, and settled with kicking the back wall of her stable. Satisfied, she eyed the human, daring her to try again.

"You want to run, don't you?" A soft voice reached her ears. "You want to fly through the air and feel the ground rush past your hooves." The black rapidash pawed at the ground, trying to ignore the voice and what she could grasp of the meaning. "You want to be free, yes?"

Diamond neighed, tossing her head in agitation. Yes. She wanted to be free of the stable. She wanted to run, to race. It was in her blood.

"Then stand still and let me touch you." The voice was a little harsher, and the hand landed on her neck again, except this time it stroked her, and she found the touch soothing. A brush followed the hand, and she liked that even more. Her flames cooled, and soon she even stopped fidgeting, allowing the human to walk around her, checking her shoes and her hooves and her legs, grooming her body and making sure she was fit. Diamond Death barely noticed as the blanket and training saddle were placed on the back, or when the bridle and bit were fitted on her head and in her mouth. She was entranced by the promises of exercise, the constant chatter that her lass kept on.

All touch left her, and she watched as the human approached the door to her stable. She flicked her ears and nickered, ready to burst free of the too small area she would be sleeping and eating in for the next few weeks.

The door opened.

---------------------------------

Amity watched as the rapidash galloped out of the stable, smiling at the pure joy that the pokemon projected. It would be short-lived though; as soon as her initial excitement started to fade, the trainer would tether her and start working on her control. She turned and started to walk away, not wanting to see Diamond's disappointment at being caught again.

Realizing that she had more to do that day, she pulled a small notepad out of the right pocket of her overalls. Check-in with the Head Lad, Marshall. She replaced the notepad and looked around, trying to figure out where to go. She had never been here before... So much to learn.

"Are you Amity?"

She whipped around to see the speaker, her green eyes widening slightly as she realized the lack of distance between her and the short man. Short compared to other men, anyway. Just barely taller than her. Amity took a step back, then smiled a nice neutral smile. "Yes, I'm Amity."

"I'm Phillip Wilder, Diamond Death's jockey." He offered her a hand to shake, and she took it. Her grip was gentle, questioning; his was firm, and he pulled her a little closer, placing his other hand on her waist to steady her. "You must be one of the newly trained lasses. Most would have slapped me by now."

She looked into his eyes, and she was caught. They were dark and brown, like his hair, except that was darker, or his skin, except that was much lighter. Having few other places to look, she settled on staring between his eyes. "Could you please let me go?"

He smiled and dropped his hands to his side, allowing her to take two steps away before he took one step toward her. "They've really squashed the fight out of you."

"There was no fight in me to begin with. I wanted to work with the Rapidash. I did what I had to in order to get this chance. I'm not reckless enough to be a jockey or forceful enough to be a trainer. I can't afford or catch a Rapidash so it was this or be the mother of a jockey." She stuck her hands in her pockets, running the coins and keys through her fingers.

"I make you nervous." He sounded pleased.

She stopped playing with the contents of her pockets. "You're too wild, even for a jockey. How'd you make it this far?"

He grinned, and she almost expected to see cat-fangs. "I made it because I wanted to." He sat down on the edge of an empty water trough and looked up at her. He seemed so small that way, with his short, lithe body. His hair was braided into little cornrolls, and something about his posture at that moment almost made Amity want to hug him. "You seemed like you were going somewhere when I stopped you."

Her eyebrows shot up, and she grimaced slightly, starting to leave but remembering something else. "Do you always talk like that?"

"Like what?"

"You speak in statements that aren't really statements. They're questions of a sort."

"Some people think it's sexy."

Amity raised an eyebrow, then smiled. "Liar."

"They think it's irritating, but endearing." He stretched his arms, his grey shirt raising just enough to show a line of dark skin.

She had to smile, unwillingly amused by the jockey.

"Run little lass. Scurry to your next task." His tone was slightly bitter, mocking, yet not directed toward her. She stared at him for a little while, then continued on her way.

--------------

Philip watched the lass find her way around the stables. It was cute, in a way, how she was so conscious of everything she did except for her nervous habits. What bugged him was how... artificial she almost seemed. Just another lass like all the other lads and lasses. No need for individuality in the stable hands, right?

He hated racing hierarchy.

The jockey stood up, clasping his hands behind his back. There was little for him to do that day. Jesse McIntire, Diamond's new trainer, refused to let him ride her until she had done some preliminary training. New rapidash were dangerous and fickle. Jockeys had been permanently injured and killed by overenthusiastic rapidash that bucked, burned, and trampled.

A nice clean fall. A broken neck. The end of a racing career. Philip's prayer every night.

"Hey Philip." The trainer walked toward the jockey. "You ready for lunch?"

The shorter man resisted the urge to laugh in scorn. Lunch? Vitamins and water, then a little something to fill his stomach. Could not gain weight, but had to stay fit. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"You okay?" Jesse placed a hand on Philip's shoulder, but it was shrugged away. "Philip, you can't ride a rapidash with pent-up emotions. She'll sense it and go wild."

He looked up with his brown eyes, both hands on his waist. "The hell do you think I do for a living? Herd mereep?"

Jesse started to reach out again, but stopped. Out of the little time he had spent with the jockey, strategizing for the upcoming race, he had learnt that when Philip was brooding, he hated to be touched unless he initiated contact. "Have you met Diamond yet?"

"Briefly."

"You'll like her. She's very spunky. Lots of energy. I think you'll be a good match."

Philip looked up at the trainer, all traces of anger gone and a thoughtful expression on his face. "I think you're right."

======================================


Alright, be brutally honest with your opinions. I have about two or three versions of this chapter and I couldn't figure out what to go with but I think this one is more consitent with my plans and the prologue. ^^

 

[Fig]

Interesting characters in this chapter - plus we get to find out some more about this story. As always, you are great on making us understand the characters.

Great job

 

[Jude]

Yes! Finally! The first chapter and I get to read it. And cackling on the story, because it's going absolutely brilliantly, if I may say so. And I like Amity, actually, because she's fun to write.

And I like Phillip and Jesse.

But yes; I'm here. You're here. It seems like we're all here, no?

And you know who I am... hopefully.

 

[Fig]

Between the messages I sent her some time ago and all the speshiul little hints, T would have to be really, really, really slow not to recognize you ;-).

 

[Jude]

DARN!

Ain't that just the kick in the head?

And the icons are Hiro-chan! HIRO-CHAN!! SQUEE!

 

[anonym0usie]

K tima- call me strange, but I for some reason picture Enrique Iglesias as the jockey. ; Anyway, cool chapter. Took me a while to get to it, but I likes!

 

[Lara Croft]

Whoa, great, T. You've really captured what the racing world is. It's a knock-down-drag-out fight to the top, hissing and scratching the entire way up. That's part of the reason I despise it so.

Great descriptions, T! I especially liked it from Diamond's point of view. That was as intriguing as it was integral. ^^ I don't really have any gripes stylistically, plotwise, etc, but I've already developed my own personal dislike towards Amity. ^^;;;;

Great going, T! Can't wait for more.

 

[Jarreddo]

Whee, fun. I like the kinda mixed feelings in the very beginning, and through the whole thing too I guess. Might just be me, but Phillip slightly reminds me of a perverted Edward Rochester... ^_^;; He's really interesting me for some reason. Hmmm... Can't see any problems, really... The prologue was a wee bit short, but eh, that's just a prologue, after that it's fine.

 

[Timarelay]

B - I suck at plots. Characters are my way of pointing and saying "Look at the pretty birdie!" while I hide my faults ^_~

Toge - Yup, we're all here. Most of us, anyway. Amity is an interesting character. I don't think I'm portraying as much of her as I wanted to, but that can always be corrected when I edit. Philip and Jesse *are* fun, but Philip much more so ^^

Alex - Enrique Iglesias? That's an odd visual. Philip's a little darker than him, though. ^^ I can kinda see how you would think of him, though. I love Philip though. I actually have a slightly hard time visualising him, but I had much fun creating his personality. And his hair. I thought the cornrolls were a nice touch ^^

RR - Hehe, Amity would be the sort of character you'd dislike. I enjoy writing from Diamond's point of view, though. It's a nice switch from the humans. And as to capturing the racing world, I read an original story that touched a little on the subject, and then I let my imagination take me from there. And I did a little research ^^ It sounds rather vile =/ Not something I'd want to get myself into.

Red - *had to look up Edward Rochester* ^^;; Haven't read that book in ages. I can see the connection though. Tis a pretty good comparison. The parts to this are rather short in general, but that's because it's so hard to write, what with every chapter covering a direct linear span of time @_@ Each event follows the other.

Thank you for reading ^^ Sorry it's taken me so long to update but this chapter was problematic. I wasn't sure where to go with it. Oh, and the slight shounen-ai (well, maybe more than slight) comes into play now, but don't worry, it's nothing graphic ^_^ Tis a fic about racing rapidash, afterall.

------------------------------------------

Chapter Two

Philip stood in front of the bulletin, his brown eyes fixed on the grim words printed in simple, black text. An obituary already. He shook his head slightly, wondering if he would be next. His right hand raised and he touched his forehead with two fingers, then his chest, his left shoulder, and his right shoulder. Prayer was good for the soul, they said, but he had sold his soul when he had started this business.

"Shame, isn't it?" Jesse walked up to the jockey, stopping right behind him, a little to the left, so close that Phillip could feel warmth radiating from his body. "I'm glad it wasn't you."

Philip turned around and tilted his head to stare up at Jesse; the top of his head was on level with the trainer's chin. "Are we done for the day?" He backed up at little, leaning against the stable wall where the bulletin was posted. He lowered his head a little, but kept his eyes fixed high, a strange mix of submission and defiance.

Jesse closed the distance between them and gently held Philip's chin in his fingers. "We're never done, little rider," he said, hesitating for a little moment before kissing him. It was a soft, hesitant kiss, executed with the same caution Jesse used around Rapidash. Back away, his mind warned him; don't give in and don't get caught, but a caramel hand crept up his shirt and his mind gave up. His mind was caught.

Philip grabbed the reins of the situation and deepened the kiss, both hands now exploring the trainer's skin. But then he heard footsteps, and he broke away with a feral smile, slipping from between the wall and the trainer with his hands in his pockets as he whistled a random tune. He glanced at the trainer over his shoulder, long enough to see Amity rounding the corner, and he quickened his pace.

--------------

Amity watched, puzzled, as Philip sauntered off, and then she looked up at Jesse, noticing the bulletin on the wall he stood in front of. "Have you heard the rumors? They say it was no accident."

Jesse smiled a little. "They always say that," he said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Were you looking for me?"

She nodded, her dark hair bobbing with the movement. How young she looked to Jesse when she did that, with her large green eyes still trying to take in the world with one look. "Ms. Tristen came by today. She wants to know if Diamond's almost ready to be ridden by Philip yet."

Jesse frowned. "What's the rush? We have two weeks and with his level of skill Philip only needs a week to practice on her. If he gets too used to her he'll anticipate what she's going to do too much and that's when fatal mistakes happen."

Amity straightened a little, shoulders back, eyes staring squarely at the trainer. "I'm just delivering a message. No need to preach to the choir." She wiped her hands off on a small towel that had been draped over her shoulder. "Where was Philip off too, anyway? I thought you guys had some non-riding work to do with Diamond? She still gets skittish when other pokemon get too close, doesn't she?"

"Fucking hell!" Jesses swore, balling his hands into fists. "The little bastard!"

Amity flinched a little at his unusual burst of temper. "He slipped away, didn't he?"

"Yeah, he slipped away." He ran a hand through his blond hair and then sighed. "We can get it done tomorrow, I guess. It isn't anything major. We just need to make sure that if another rapidash spooks her, she keeps running in the right direction."

She nodded, but did not say anything. She had noticed the strange relationship between Philip and Jesse - how could she miss it? - and she was wondering if there was anything real between them. The jockey made her heart flutter, half out of fear, half out of desire. He made her feel ridiculous. He made her feel like she could be more.

The silence between the lass and the trainer started to grow, and she clasped her hands behind her back, trying to avoid fidgeting. She stared up at Jesse, and he stared down at her. Neither showed any sign of looking away. Philip's initial mocking of her behavior had irritated her into an uncommon boldness and eye contact no longer terrified her.

Jesse crossed his arms and for a moment, tensed, as if preparing for some sort of dissent between himself and the young woman. And then he smiled, remembering who she was, realizing the jealously that they both felt. "Why don't we all go out to dinner tomorrow?" He asked, un-crossing his arms and trying to look as non-threatening as possible. "We don't get to see enough of each other, and we live in the same hotel room."

Amity blinked, caught off guard by the offer. She shifted her weight on her feet and unclasped her hands, and, realizing she had nothing else to do with them, reclasped them. "That would be lovely," she said, clearing her throat first to avoid stuttering. He was right, after all. They all got back to the room at different times, waking up at different times too. After long days of hard work, who wanted conversation over a hot shower and a deep sleep?

"Great," Jesses said, grinning. "I'll tell Philip when I see him." He patted her on the shoulder, and then walked off, his head held high in that strangely non-arrogant way that only trainers could manage.

-----------------------

Diamond Death heard her humans talking, and it soothed her nerves. She did not like the stable at all, at least, not when she had no room to run. Underneath the smell of the hay and the leather, the sweat and the dirt, lay the smell of competition that drove Rapidash wild and made them restless. She had never raced before, so she had no idea what lay ahead of her, but she could tell it was something big and exciting, because she could hear the thrilled neighs of other Rapidash from time to time, and she heard their hooves beat against the ground like hers did when she was released.

She lowered her black muzzle into her feed bag and fed on the fortified grain, crunching loudly. Her flaming tail flicked a little as a fly buzzed near, and she stamped a hoof in irritation. The voices had stopped, and now she was alone again. More than the confinement, she hated the solitude. Rapidash were social pokemon by nature; how could one race without anyone to compete with? She caught glimpses of the other rapidash. Grey and black and brown flashes of potential companions that she would never know beyond the race-course.

Human footsteps entered into her range of hearing, and she lifted her head expectantly, recognizing that light but assertive step. She tosses her head and her mane burned brighter, fueled by anticipation. She flicked her ears as the high, musical sound that always accompanied those footsteps filled her with joy, and she pawed at the ground.

The smaller human that often came to see her when she was free stepped into her line of view, and she stepped up to the stable door, stretching her head out so that he could stroke her. He reached out one brown hand and touched the white diamond on the center of her forehead, the only marking on her entire black body. The musical sound stopped, and he started to speak softly, saying words that meant nothing to her, maybe not even words.

Expertly, he opened the door and slipped in before she could escape, and he stroked her neck, a warm touch that was always welcome. The tension in her muscles melted away, and she felt adored and loved. He walked around her, constantly touching her, assuring her that he was still there, and then he walked back in front of her and slowly lowered himself to the ground, talking the entire time. Lulled into a sense of security, she followed him to the ground, tucking her legs under her body, whinnying softly. He leaned his body against hers, one arm draped around her neck, un-burnt by her flame.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she fell asleep, oblivious to the wet drops that fell onto her neck.

--------------------------------


*huggles Philip* ^__^ I'd say this fic has... two more chapters. Maybe an epilogue too. Please inform me of any errors, no matter how little. As I said before, I don't have a word-processor with spell-checker ^^;;

 

[Fig]

Wet drops? Tears?

Anyway, great chapter Tima . And only two more chapters? Strange, somehow I thought that fic would last longer. Then again, I always expect fics to last a long time ^^;;.

Great job .

 

[Jude]

*pokes sore back* Evil rock climbing. *shifty eyes*

She tosses her head and her mane burned brighter,

Typo here... the s and d keys are just next to each other; silly typos-making-things-into-wrong-tenses.

And that's all I really noticed... Good, though,

SNOGGING! *glomps it*

 

[Blackjack Gabbiani]

Gak! Updates! I missed 'em!

Very good stuff!

and...people call me BJ or BJG for short

 

[Lara Croft]

Wow, great update! *grins*

I like Philip too. He's neat as a character, and such a jockey it isn't even funny. Still don't like Amity much--too goody-goody stable girl for me. But he was *crying*! *glomps him*

 

[Timarelay]

Wow, so it's been a long time since I've worked on this fic. Did some minor editting on the earlier chapters, but will go through everything when the next (and final) chapter is done. I don't think there'll be an epilogue, but we'll see.

Hope no one's forgotten me (or the fic) ^^

-----------------------------------------------


Chapter Three

Such an unusual rapidash, all black except for one tiny diamond. Her birth was the death of her mother, and her name reflected that and not an intensely violent nature. Diamond Death. A complete rookie to racing, excluding for training. Not even an ex-battler, which many racers were. She was young and restless though, and that made up for her lack of experience.

Despite her limited understanding of humans and their languages, she knew tomorrow was something big. Every touch that landed on her body was a little tense. Every word that reached her ears was both excited and worried. She wanted to buck and prance around every time one of her humans came near, but she composed herself, instead quivering as she often did; every bit of her that could move without being disruptive did; her ears twitched, her tail and mane flickered and danced, her eyes darted around, and her hooves pawed at the ground.

The one that cleaned her and took care of her, entered her stable, and she restrained herself from nipping at the material she wore. Instead, she stretched her head out and pressed her nose against the human's neck, nickering softly. The young woman jumped, but then stroked her neck, crooning because she knew noise and touch soothed the rapidash.

Another human appeared at the stable door, and Diamond reared up, careful not to step on the girl when she landed. Tossing her head, she watched as he opened the door and slipped in, and she stopped moving when he threw his arms around her neck and rested his head on her warm, soft skin. Around the girl, Diamond was playful, but courteous. Around the little man, Diamond was a filly again, a little ponyta that wanted to run in circles and cuddle with her mother, except she had never had a mother. Humans filled that void for her, especially the one that rode her.

She pressed herself closer to him, but stopped when she felt him lose his balance a little. He hugged her for a few more minutes, bare hands and arms forming a warm, smooth ring around her neck. He smelled and felt more nervous than the other two humans; she nipped his hair because normally that made him loosen up, and then she would feel his chest and stomach vibrate as he made that sound that he always did when she amused him. He did it again, this time, but it was shorter, weaker, and she tossed her head, worried about him.

The girl said something short, chiding, and he loosened up, covering Diamond with firm, apologetic caresses. He still smelled anxious, but she ignored it as much as she could, distracted by the presence of two that she loved. Together, they pampered her with hugs and strokes, and it was not until they had left that she realized the sun was down and her night blanket covered her body.

Alone, she walked up to the door and neighed, wanting them to return but knowing they would not.

----------------------------------

"She's so tragic," Philip said, as they walked away from the stables and toward the hotel.

"Tragic? Why do you think that?"

Philip laughed, a genuine laugh, but not exactly one of mirth; it was a surprised laugh, a laugh that was amused in a condescending, can't believe what was just said sort of way. "You don't think that Diamond's sad?"

"I guess she is. I never really thought about it," Amity replied.

"You never really think about much, do you?" The jockey snuck an arm around her shoulder and drew her in close. "Tell me, what's it like to have no ambition?"

She pulled away, tense but not furious like Philip had almost expected her to be. She looked betrayed, hurt. "Why do you say things like that?"

"Like what?"

"That I don't think, that I have no ambition... That I've had the fight squashed out of me, that I'm just another little lass. What do you have against me and what I do and how I do it?"

"I have nothing against you." Philip's head was tilted to one side and she could tell that he was toying with her. Why did he always toy with her?

"Then why do you say those things?"

"Because they're true." He started walking again, hands in his pockets.

She frowned, watching him. So cocky, so sure of himself... Who did he think he was? Did he think he was better than her just because he was a jockey? For the first time since she had met him, Amity's thoughts were not mixed with any desire, with any lust or admiration. Instead, she saw Philip as the starved, little man that he was, too thin and too brash, too wild to do anything but ride Rapidash until aging or a bad fall stopped him. Fueled by this new line of thought, she ran and caught up with him. "You know what?"

"What?"

"I know what you were trying to do."

"Oh you do, now?" He smiled at her as they walked together, one eyebrow raised.

"You were trying to get me mad. Trying to break through whatever training I've been through that's made me the way that I am."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Have I succeeded?"

"No."

"No?"

"Because it wasn't the training that made me the way that I am. It's just how I am. I don't care what the hell you think but I'm just like this. You're wild, but I'm as tame as a pidgey and I'm not gonna change." She spoke proudly, not thinking about what to do with her hands or whether her posture was right.

Philip listened to her, and he watched her, and he knew that she was lying to herself, but he knew that she was also telling the truth. He was partially right, and he was partially wrong. She was naturally compliant and submissive and obedient, yes, but the training had twisted those qualities in her. The training was, however, coming undone. Did she not notice how much more attitude she had, these days? Did she not notice that eye contact no longer bothered her that much, or that she had tensed less than usual when Philip had thrown his arm around her shoulders? Apparently not. "Fine."

She hesitated for a second, having expected him to argue. Then she nodded, accepting his acceptance of her words. They continued the walk in silence, both drifting into their own thoughts about the race the next day. As they neared the hotel, Philip's thoughts started to drift in random directions, and then he started to watch Amity again, the way she tucked her wavy hair behind an ear when it moved forward, which was often; the way she liked to play with her belt-loops and the edge of her t-shirt; the way she sometimes breathed deeply and closed her eyes, as if summoning up the courage to keep on living. He watched her and he decided that she was not all that bad of a person, once one got beyond the lass to the actual woman.

They were making their way up the stairs to their room - there was no elevator - when he stopped at one of the landings, grabbing her arm before she walked up the first step. She was thrown off balance and stumbled back into his hands, which steadied her. A little irritated by his strange behavior that night, she turned around and promptly found herself pinned against the wall and staring into a pair of lovely brown eyes that still made her stomach flip.

"Let me go," she said firmly.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"But haven't you ever thought about this?" He touched her hair briefly with one hand, then placed two fingers on her neck, checking her pulse. "You're either scared or you're attracted to me."

She blushed, then tried to turn her head but he lightly grabbed her chin and stopped her. "Just let me go, please."

"In a second." He was pressed against her, and she could feel how delicate but strong he was. He kissed her on her forehead, her cheek, her neck. And then he kissed her lips, gently, waiting for her to respond. She did, taking her time, waiting to see where he was going with this. He broke the kiss and smiled at her, a slow smile, a satisfied smile. She almost expected him to say something sarcastic, something with an edge to it, but instead he kissed her again, more deeply, expertly slipping his tongue into her mouth.

She was very aware that one of his hands rested on her hip, and that the other was slowly creeping up the back of her shirt. She was very aware that he was an excellent kisser, and that their almost equal height made this surprisingly intimate. And she was very aware that this would end at the kiss and that she had better milk this moment for what it was worth.

Philip was not exactly sure why he was doing this, but he was enjoying this, kissing Amity. She smelled nice; well, mostly she smelled of Rapidash, and so did he, but underneath that she smelled of shampoo and soap and whatever girly things she put on after she showered. She was soft, like nearly all girls, but with a few hard edges, due to her work. But mostly, she was someone that he knew had wanted him since she had seen him, and she was someone that he did not mind indulging for a few minutes. Might as well give her something good to remember him by.

When they entered the room, Jesse knew that something had happened between them, but he was not sure what, exactly. There were only two beds in the room, so they had been taking turns, alternating between the bed and the hard little cot that had been brought in. It was Philip's night to sleep on the cot, but because the race was the next day, Jesse had switched with him, and was now lying on it, reading.

"How's Diamond?" Jesse asked, setting his book aside for a moment.

"Tense. She knows something's coming up," Philip answered, kicking off his riding boots and then collapsing on his bed. "Fuck, I'm tired."

Jesse looked at Philip, worried until he saw the amusement on the jockey's face.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I've done this before? I know better than to tire myself out completely the day before."

Jesse simply snorted in response, returning to his book. Philip and Amity took turns in the shower. Amity showered first, and when she came out, she was wearing a pair of old shorts and a t-shirt, her hair gathered into a ponytail. She sat on her bed and rummaged through her bag, picking out her clothes for the next day and laying them down, folded, beside her bed. After that she dug out her little notebook and flipped through the past few weeks, sadly reading all the tasks that she had completed, tasks that she would not have to do again until her next job. There was a chance that Ms Tristan would hire her again, maybe to permanently care for Diamond, but that chance was slim.

Philip emerged from the shower in nothing but a pair of boxers, old riding scars visible on his light brown skin. He was patting his hair dry with a towel, hair that both Amity and Jesse noticed was free of its braids. Philip noticed them looking at him, and smiled, a strangely sheepish smile, for Philip was not one that tended to be apologetic. "I was wondering if you two would mind re-braiding my hair?"

Amity nodded, and Jesses shrugged. Pleased by their assent, Philip pulled two combs from his small, battered bag, and then plunked himself down in front of Amity's bed. Jesse marked his place in his book then got up and sat beside Amity, with Philip on the floor between them. Silently, he took a comb from Philip and started to braid his hair, still damp and soft, but thick, almost fluffy. After a little while he started to hum, like he did when working with Rapidash. He did not really like silence that much, at least, not when he was around other people. Silence was not natural. Living things made noise.

At first tense to be so near both men at once, Amity started to relaxing, enjoying whatever song it was that the trainer hummed. He had a lovely voice; did he sing? She realized how little she knew about her co-workers, beyond their jobs. They had chatted a bit that time they had dinner together, but not much beyond the basics. They now knew how old they were - Jesse was the oldest, Phillip and Amity were around the same age - they knew were they grew up, and they knew that they all loved Rapidash even when they were children. They did not know their favorite colors, or what kind of music they liked. Nor did they know what scared them, what thoughts chilled their body and made them feel small and vulnerable.

But they did know that they had down their jobs well, and that now, braiding Philip's hair, they were the closest they would ever be, all of them sharing their anxiety and their excitement, Amity and Jesse sharing their attraction to the jockey. When they finished, Philip stayed on the floor, feeling a little afraid. He had never been afraid before a race, because he had never had anything to fear before: not even death, because he welcomed death.

"Thank you," he said, and the trainer and the lass heard the slight catch in his voice. Amity slid down to the floor and sat next to him, and Jesse did the same. Surprised, Philip felt trapped for a moment, about to fight back by saying something, anything, to change the tone of the moment, but he had nothing to say. Instead, he leaned into Jesse and welcomed the strong arm around his shoulder. He relaxed as Amity wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest, curling her body to align herself with him.

Though he wanted to, Philip did not cry. Instead, he distracted himself with their warmth, pretending, for a moment, that tomorrow was a normal race, one that could not change his life so drastically. He only wished that Diamond could be with them, right then, for her presence could have perfected the moment.

But if wishes came true, would he be there right then? An underfed jockey who spent his spare time seducing his coworkers and crying by his Rapidash?

Philip's exhaustion caught up with him and he yawned. Noticing the time, they broke apart and crawled into their own beds. That night, Jesse and Amity had a hard time sleeping, but neither of them said a word. After such intimacy, they felt so alone in their own beds, and tomorrow loomed in their minds, chasing away sleep and interrupting their dreams when they managed to doze off. Only Philip slept soundly, dreamlessly, having taken a sleeping pill.

----------------------------------------------


So, once again, I beg for criticism(critique?). Please ^^