From: Silver Fox Date: 1 Jul 1998 16:08:49 GMT Subject: NEW -- "From Another Perspective" -V- (1/1) This is so _not_ Flickfic. Title: From Another Perspective Author: Kathleen Brown Rating: G Classification: V Distribution: Go for it, Gossamer. I love you guys. Spoilers: Itty bitty for Chinga. I think. (I don't see it now, but I wrote it down a while ago...) Summary: An X-File, from the POV of a silent witness. Disclaimer: I don't own 'em, I only wish I do. No Agents were harmed in the creation of this fic. And don't I just wish that Minty was mine, but he's not. My _idea_, though. Notes: I ride horses and I am always wondering what they're thinking, like what kind of horrible demon Tucker saw in that green tarp yesterday. I wasn't originally going to post this story (notice it was written several months ago?), but I changed my mind last night. Why? I was reminded of it and I figured hey, it couldn't hurt, really... right? I was reminded when I looked at a white-board with the names of everyone and their trainer and the horse they're riding. In a corner, marked off by dark black squiggles, was written "* Gillian Anderson with Trainer." to which I added a small "scully?". I don't know if it's a horse's name or just a really lucky woman (anyone know what GA's up to this summer?), but I thought it was interesting enough to mention. --uu--uu--uu--uu-- From Another Perspective --uu--uu--uu--uu-- Something's happening. I didn't get breakfast this morning. Everyone else around me is complaining, loudly, kicking and screaming against the walls of their stalls, while I calmly consider the people in the hall. These people don't belong here. Not because they're new around here, but because they _do not belong_. Their shoes are thin-soled, expensive, and worthless against our ever-present threats, and their clothes are the same. Uniforms of some organization I've seen before, with shiny metal badges and heavy guns that smell like Ralph's flannel shirts. I know why they're here. Something happened last night, something that most of my companions can't quite wrap their mind around. Someone died last night. Sylvester. Killed in a bright flash I can hardly recall and _certainly_ can't explain. I can only hope that same bright flash won't come and steal my life like it stole his. First of all, before I begin this story, allow me to introduce myself. I'm twenty years old, dark-skinned, with long black hair. I am a Dutch Warmblood/Thoroughbred mix. My name is Peppermint Candy Coated, on account of the large white "splotch" on the underside of my belly, where my partner tells me the chocolate never reached. She calls me "Minty", and I lovingly refer to her as my partner, when most of my companions would refer to her as my "owner". She doesn't own me. If anything, I own her, but that's beside the point. She's my partner. We do everything together. We jump and work the flat, go on long walks together, and we talk about everything. She talks more than I do, but she understand me well enough. I'm, frankly, surprised she's not here to check on me after what's happened. I thought she'd be the first person here, but I'm told by some she lives farther away than I think. I don't know. It's very hard for me to judge distance past nine or ten lengths. She tells me it's as long as our longest walks, but I never think about how long or how far we're walking. It just doesn't matter when we're together. More people. This time they're even _more_ out of place. It's been a while since the uniformed men were here, and these two people don't have the same way about them. They look like they're always thinking, while the others never seemed to look this way at all. They merely took down numbers which mean nothing to me, and talked and laughed and one of them so rudely pulled on my ear when I reached out to look at what was so funny. I didn't see humor in what they did. Sylvester was dead. He was lying on a blue tarp and they dragged him away onto Vicki's red truck before they all left. No one asked me what _I_ saw. I know what I saw, but I have no way of telling anyone besides my friends, none of whom believe me. I should've been let out by now, given free roam of the field, but I can forgive Ralph for forgetting. Everything's strange today. Breakfast was late and I wore my blanket until lunch, when I nearly cried for Janeen to pull it off, I was so hot and itchy underneath it. It's turning into a hot day, and there will be no respite in the cool grass of my field. When I bend down my head to take a mouthful of the dusty hay left over from last night, I feel the cool breeze between the boards where Snoopy chewed it through, and take that as enough evidence to support a nap. One of the new people, the male one, tall as me with short brown hair lighter than mine, looks over at me as I look for a place to lay down. My stall hasn't been cleaned today, and I think it's my day off, so there will be no brushing. Some "day off". How can I lay down with this man looking at me? What? What do you see?! Why am I so interesting to you?! He turns away to look at his pretty partner, hair the color of Red's coat. Finally no longer bashful, I groan slightly as I bend my aching knees beneath me and flop less-than-gracefully onto the deep sawdust that is my floor. Almost as if he's imitating me, the tall man drops into a crouch, fingering the dusty shavings of Sylvester's stall. I watch him, carefully, wondering what he sees in our insignificant beds. Thank goodness Janeen at least left open my stall door, leaving up that useless rubber bar they insist will keep me in. It's not the rubber bar that does it, it's the fact that I know I'm not allowed out, and that if I _do_ try to get out, that Erin, my partner, will get in trouble for it. I don't want that to happen. I feel for her that same strange thing she feels for me. The two people are talking amongst themselves, and I strain my untrained ears to pick up their words. "What makes this an X-File, Mulder?" "Witnesses say there was a bright flash centered around this barn late last night." "Mulder, there _were_ no witnesses." He's looking at me. Intently, as if I am something to be studied. I don't mind, really, since this is the way that Erin looks at me when she thinks I'm not looking. This man knows us, and I can't help but wonder how. I wonder if he's a kind man, if he works us with the same quiet ease that he seems to work this woman, or if he is a frightening man, working with the furious intensity I see behind his gaze. Sometimes it's easy to tell these things, but other times it's a puzzle. _This_ man is a puzzle. His lips move, barely, but his words are clear to me. Soft, low. "There were plenty of witnesses, Scully. A whole stable full who saw exactly what happened last night." There wasn't much to see. "Mulder, if you're suggesting what I think you are, you're crazy. There's no way we'll know what they know, even if they could tell us." The man agrees, he bobs his head up and down slightly. It took me years to understand that he _doesn't_ want a treat, but instead he understands her. Erin smiles when I nod to her, showing her I understand. I still haven't gotten a hold on shaking my head, though. That takes practice, but whenever I seem to try, she comes in and cradles my head in her lap, giving me cookies. I don't mind, but I wish I knew what she knew. The tall man stands and I, as a test, stand, too. His eyes widen, as do his partner's. He reaches out a hand and I reach my nose out to meet it, sniffing warily of him. He smells like salt and himself. I hate when people smell like so many others. But then again, to be honest, I hate when other horses do. He gives me time to adjust to his smell, then reaches a long hand up to pat my forehead. I suppress my desire to run and flinch, instead allowing him. The woman reaches up to do the same as him, but her long claws scare me, as they all do, and I pull away shivering. "You've got to let him smell you first, Scully." She looks at him as if he's just committed an unspeakable sin. "They can't see their own foreheads, Scully, and they know it's a vulnerable area. You've got to let them get used to you first. Know that you're not out to kill them." She reaches her hand out to me, giving me her brightly colored fingertips. They don't suit her. I decide it's time to teach her a lesson, and I snap at her, my teeth never getting near her, but my point comes across clearly as she pulls away, the man's hand coming out to protect her hand, while his other reaches up into the air, threatening to bear down upon my face. He's going to hit me!! I toss my face up into the air, my front feet threatening to leave the ground if I lift my neck much higher. Point taken. Stay away. I may be a gelding, but I understand the stallion-mare relationship well enough among humans. This round is over. I quietly turn and nibble at the grain in my bucket, watching them out of the corner of my eye. "Mulder, there's got to be an X-File here, you wouldn't take this case solely on the fact there was a light, would you?" He sighs softly. "Scully, why mutilate cattle?" "I don't know. Do you think it's the government?" "No, I don't. I think it's someone else, and I think it reaches more deeply than cattle." "Test subjects." He nods again. Opens up a file and ruffles through bright photos. "Is there all ready a file on this?" A nod. "You wanna tell me what it's about?" The man reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out something to bring to his lips. Treats? I quietly take a step toward him, reaching around him from behind to try to work my soft lips into the pocket of the long coat. Tiny seeds spill out, and I lip them off the ground, crunching them contentedly. They're salty, oily, and bitter. Good. As I reach for more I accidentally brush my cheek against the man's leg, and the woman notices my interest, chuckling. Squealer. The man turns to me and look at me, while I try to put on my best guilty face. He takes my head and grabs my jaw with both his hands, one on top of my nose, one below, holding me still. The position is not painful, only quite frightening. The man looks at me for long moments, then rubs the palm of his hand against the softness of my nose, grinning maniacally. If I could smile, I would. This man _knows_ us. "What was that all about, Mulder?" "Nothin'. I just love these guys. Ever since I was a kid... Sam was insane over them. She made Mom and Dad and me go riding one day with her, and I fell absolutely in love." "Can you ride, Mulder?" He raises his eyebrows at her, looking slightly shocked, but his smile is unmistakable. "I went to school in England, Scully, that should tell you something." "You can?" The man smiles and scratches behind my ears. I push my face into the crook of his underarm, rubbing my face against him, reveling in the feel of his coat against mine. "Scully, a lot of people underestimated how happy I was in England, particularly my parents. I felt I needed to prove them something by staying as far away for as long as possible. I spent one summer backpacking across Europe, another one I spent in London with Phoebe, and on my last I toured England's countryside on one of these beasties." A slight shrug of slim shoulders. "I never knew you liked horses, Mulder." "It doesn't come up very often." My ears perk up and I pull away from the man's grip. Familiar footsteps. So _tired_. Vicki!! My chest presses against the rubber bar in my effort to see her, and my efforts are rewarded with a rub behind my ears. She turns to the new people, and for a moment I'm gripped by a fear she might make them leave. No! I like them! To prove my point, I nuzzle the man's hand as he holds open his pocket, looking for a leather wallet, which he finds and presents to Vicki. "Special Agent Fox Mulder, this is my partner, Special Agent Dana Scully, we're with the FBI, looking into the death of one of your horses?" "A pony." "Sorry, ma'am. Did you see anything unusual outside of the barn last night? _Besides_ the light you said you saw?" "Nothing. Everything was as usual. We bedded down at about nine or so, and the last person to leave the farm was Erin." "Erin?" Looking at me... "Minty's owner. She's sixteen years old, would _never_ hurt one of these animals." "Do you think it's possible she could have seen anything?" "I'm not sure. Maybe. It's _possible_." The woman, Scully, finally speaks up. "Do you know where we can find Erin?" "She's at school, I suppose. I can find out where, if you'd like." "Yes, we'd like that very much." They all walk out, leaving me hanging here in the breeze waiting for _someone_ to pay a little bit of attention. Will they come back? They came back!!! And they brought Erin!! Something's odd about her, though. I know her footsteps, but those don't sound like her feet. None of the heavy clunk-clunk of her boots. The two.... Agents? are back, too. Look! I can see her! Erin! Erin!! She smiles at the sight of me, walking up to stroke my long nose. I sniff at her clothing. She smells like people. She's dressed in a short blue skirt and a white shirt, strange colors in her fabric. A school uniform, she told me this was once. I don't like it. I prefer her boots and pants. She looks to the man and woman, and I feel her gaze pulled toward the man. I can tell what she's thinking about him, but I still don't know why people don't act on it more. She says it's not okay to be with someone so much older, but I don't know. It never stopped any of us. She says it's different with horses. The tall man speaks, and my ears sing at the soft sound of his voice. "Did you see anything strange happening while you were here at the barn last night?" "No. Why? Is this about Sylvester?" "We think this might be related to a serious of continuing deaths among horses in the area." "You think someone killed Sylvester?" "Inadvertently, yes." I can almost hear her thinking. "I didn't see anything. If I had, I would've told Vicki. There were no cars left on the farm except mine, all the lights were out, the horses were fed and had been tucked in for the night." Her shy smile. The tall man nods. "Can you think of anyone in the area who might have had anything against these horses? A businessperson or anything like that?" "Everyone around here loves the farm. It's a hangout, as far as I know. I mean, it's not the happenin' place, but we don't cause any trouble, there are never any problems..." Again. The woman sighs and runs a hand through her mane. "I'm sorry we had to pull you out of school for this." "Oh, gee, missing school to come to the farm. I may never recover." A mischievous grin. "I'll be around if you need me for anything." Erin, where are you going?! She turns and plants a kiss on my nose and I calm. She's coming back. The tall man turns to his partner. Angry. "What was that about, Scully?" "Mulder, don't you even believe your own stories anymore? Two years ago this WAS the work of aliens, now it's nothing but a group of serial murders from, what? A disgruntled farmhand?" "I don't know, Scully...." She shakes her mane and sighs. "Let's get out of here, Mulder. We'll leave in the morning. I don't feel like driving back tonight." "Fine with me." Where are you going? What about me? No goodbye? No pat on the nose? Nothing? More noises. Sounds like footsteps. Light, human footfalls. A light bobbing in the darkness on it's way, coming toward me. I crane my neck up to see, but I can't hear. I smell that man, the Agent man. I smell his cologne and personal smell. Not a people smell. I sigh in resignation and plant my hooves on the ground, lifting myself off the sawdust with an absolutely inhuman effort. No human I've ever seen has had to work as hard as we do just to stand. I shake myself off from under my heavy coat, crowding the front bars of my stall to watch the FBI man. He's got a small lantern in his hand.... flashlight... while he carefully inspects the wooden boards making up the doorway to Sylvester's old stall. He sighs deeply and his breath echoes throughout the aisle. I whuffle softly to him, trying to catch his attention for a while. And I'm the first one to admit that I am desperate for company when Erin's not around. Everybody in the barn tells me that's natural, but I can't be sure. The man turns to me, and his eyes are green-gold-brown in the glimmer of his flashlight. If I could smile, I would. He reaches out and touches my nose, then looks skyward as the roof thunders with a sudden cloudburst. Around me, I feel my fellow beasts shift as they're awakened, then sigh as they drop back off to sleep. The man sighs sadly and his eyes meet mine, asking, _asking_ for permission to come into my stall with me. I move to the side to let him in, then seek a place to flop down. If my assumptions are correct, as they turn out to be, he'll sit beside me. He does, carefully, leaning his elbow across my back, his side against mine. He sighs deeply. "It's been so long since I've been around one of you guys. I almost forgot what it's like." You miss it. "I miss it. It's comforting to have a companion like this. You guys love back." Agent Scully doesn't? "Scully and I..." Another, softer sigh. "We know how we feel for each other, but we can't show it. It's just not something we do. Some times I'd give up the X-Files in a heartbeat if it meant we could just be together as people, rather than partners in the Bureau sense." His sighs are pressing against my ribs, and I can only imagine the force he's using to produce them. I sigh against him, turning my head to sniff at his fingertips. He reaches up and gives me his fingers, lets me lick them to experience his taste first- hand. I wonder why he came here. "I thought that maybe I could turn this case into an X- File. For Scully. I think she should be the one who wants to believe now. I think she should've gone down to that headshop on M and gotten her own poster. I'm tired of being the crazy one in this relationship, Minty. I'm tired of being _in_ this relationship." Don't you love her? "Of course I love her, but she's my partner. She knows me too well. It wouldn't be right to ask her to love me, too. We'd get sick of each other in a weekend. There would be no get-to-know- you. It'd be the same old thing. It'd never work." This guy's good. It's like he's reading my mind. Either that or I'm really predictable, which Erin insists isn't true. He's been quiet for a while now. I turn my head to see his face, but I find his eyes closed, his breathing steady. It's been a long time since anyone's done this to me, but I honestly don't think I mind. It's nice to have someone close by. When I wake, the Agent man... Mulder? is gone, and I'm just about to be given breakfast. Yay!! Breakfast!! Back to the normal routine!! But I hear him still. With the woman. She's complaining to him. "I don't see why we can't just leave right now, Mulder. Why do you have to go and do this?" "I don't want to leave without saying goodbye, Scully." "Mulder, it doesn't matter." Yeah, right, lady. The tall man walks up to me and holds his palm to my lips. I nibble at the treat he offers and chew contentedly on it, smiling inwardly as the chocolate-covered peppermint pattie explodes into my mouth. Mulder smiles and rubs my forehead, whispering softly to me. "Next time I promise we'll go for a ride." He walks away. I know I won't be seeing him again. But he will be here. I'll end up like Sylvester, neighing hysterically as gray men with cat's eyes lead him into a light outside the barn. That will be me, and the Agent Mulder will never know. I am a witness, but I am mute. Unable to speak in tones he will recognize. A helpless bystander. A simple-minded equine in the view of those who refuse to believe. The End. Copyright Kathleen Brown April 28, 1998. Spoilers "Chinga"