[CONTENTID1]The Other Side Of Glory[/CONTENTID1]

[CONTENTID2]Glory Death[/CONTENTID2]

[CONTENTID3]

Minseok didn't care about the bruised sides, the broken arm, cracked ribs, or the twisted ankle. In fact, he hardly felt them at all. It was as though he were the one who was dying, instead of the horse. Disraelian. Born out of France, her sire War Chant, whose lineage traced from Hail To Reason, to Citation, back to Ormonde. Her dame, Me Myself And I, sired by Marienbard by Caerleon, from Nijinsky, to Northern Dancer and on to Native Dancer and West Australian. A bloodline of champions, for certain. But it hadn't been enough to keep her safe.

They had...She had...won the Triple Crown. And now she was dying.

Her sides heaved as she lay in the wet, muddy earth of the sloppy track. The slimy dirt coated her sweat slicked head, and with shaking hands he wiped as much away as he could. He couldn't hear the crowd, and couldn't see the paramedics dashing across the track, slowed as much as the horses by the conditions. He couldn't feel the hand on his back as Baekhyun, a fellow jockey and second place finisher on Coronation, tried to give him comfort. All he could hear was her heavy, labored breaths quickly fading. All he could see were those big terrified eyes and the light that fled from them. All he could feel was terrible, terrible guilt and despair.

She was gone before the paramedics arrived and he was forced onto a stretcher. She was gone. Disraelian, winner of the Kentucky Derby, Preakness, and Belmont Stakes, the first filly to win the Triple Crown, the first to win it at all in thirty-seven years. She had gone down as she crossed the finish line. The photo finish, forever frozen in that moment as she stumbled forward, great heart giving out.

He would always think of her as his horse, no matter that she had been owned by the prestigious Fei Luhan, no matter that she had been trained by multi-award winner Roger Attfield, no matter that he was a nobody 20 year old jockey on the ride of his life. But it was true, in a way. No one else could ride her. Now no one ever would. She was a one man horse, and Minseok had been her man. And, vice versa, Disraelian had been his horse, too.

~~

"Minseok!" The breathless shout had Minseok looking up from his studious contemplation of his ragged fingernails. Luhan stood in the doorway, face pale and drawn, and he paused for a moment before he rushed to Minseok's bedside. Minseok's un-bandaged hand was seized like a lifeline between Luhan's two palms, "Oh thank god, I couldn't find you! No one knew or wanted to tell me your condition! Oh my god!" Luhan looked pretty when he cried, all too pretty. Big eyes wet and watery...big eyes. Disraelian. Luhan was still babbling,

"I can't stop seeing it my head, when you got thrown into the railing - I-I was so afraid. When I got down there they had already taken you away! Oh lord I thought I would surely die -"

"Luhan," Minseok interrupted, removing his hand from Luhan's as he met the other's gaze, "We're through," he said simply.

"W-what?" Luhan's head tilted to the side, uncomprehending of the words that had just been spoken.

"I'm breaking up with you. I quit. You don't have to come see me anymore - please don't, in fact -"

"What the hell are you talking about, Minseok - Why?" the haggard face was flushed, tears of relief to tears of anger.

"You know very well why -"

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