A/N: This is, at its heart, less of a story and more of a requiem. For those of you that don't know, I have been around horses all of my life, and I cannot describe how much I love and respect them. I find the treatment that they endure in the competitive circuit – particularly racing - abhorrent. It is abusive and inhumane. That said… this is for them.
Disclaimer: I do not own Eleventh Hour, and claim no profit from this story. I am trying only to raise awareness.
Warnings: This story was very painful for me to write; and the style is off. Please beware of the angst. This was not Beta'd.
MY KINGDOM FOR A HORSE
This was supposed to have been a vacation.
Reaching the wall, Rachel stopped, spun on her heel, and began to pace another limping circuit of the barn isle. Hood glanced up when she passed him, and Rachel had to pull her gaze away from the agony in his eyes as she walked on, choking on hot tears and cold fury.
When she came back, almost hobbling now as the muscles in her thigh screamed, Hood spoke without looking up.
"You're going to hurt yourself, Rachel."
"The physical pain I can deal with," she answered tersely, stopping just across from him and leaning against the wall for a rest.
He glanced up at her, briefly, and his mouth twitched in a faint, sad smile of understanding. Physical pain was easier to handle than emotional pain. And even when you couldn't do anything, doing something felt better than doing nothing at all.
Rachel pushed off the wall and began pacing again as Hood dropped his gaze back to the horse's head resting in his lap. The tainted vitamin shots had already killed twenty of the Venezuelan polo team's mounts. This horse was one of the few still strong enough to fight for his life.
Gently, Hood ran his hand down the horse's neck again, feeling the sweat-drenched hair sticking to his fingers as the horse struggled to breathe. Bleeding into the lungs. He was drowning from within.
"Rachel," he said softly as she walked by again, and he heard her stop outside the stall. "We will find whoever is responsible for this."
"And when we do," Rachel answered, anger tight in her voice, "they're going to suffer."
Hood glanced up and their eyes locked. "Yes."
It's avengers so sworn, the horse in Hood's lap gave a final, shuddering breath and closed his eyes.
FIN
Tragically, the only part of this story that is fictional is Hood and Rachel's involvement. Twenty-one horses of the Venezuelan polo team did suffer and die due to the incompetence of the pharmacy mixing their (illegal) vitamin shots.
