//------------------------------//
// We Were Strangers 
// Story: A Job With Benefits 
// by Boomstick Mick 
//------------------------------//

	Soarin sat at the bar and watched as Applejack enjoyed the party with her friends. He had been nursing the same drink for about twenty minutes now, enjoying the steady, modest buzz that it brought him. She is so beautiful, he thought, a feeling of euphoria welling within him. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he was happy. He was content. No amount of money could ever buy what he was now feeling. Why is this happening? Why are things going so... Right? It truly was an incredible feeling. It was that feeling that comes so rare in life, the overwhelming sensation of being in love. He drank down the last swallow of his pint and set the tall empty mug down on the counter top.  

"Would you like another one, sir?" asked the bartender.

Soarin twisted around on his stool to face him and slid a few shiny bits his way. "No, thanks." One drink to calm his nerves was all he wanted. He refused to delude his wits with alcohol. He had already tried to dance while drunk in front of Applejack before. Never again. It made Soarin cringe when he thought back to how pathetic he looked that night, wallowing in his self pity, yammering, sobbing, half-mad and rambling drunk. He refused to let himself forget the way he acted that night; he never wanted to forget who he used to be, so as to never make the mistake of becoming that sad, sorry sot again. 

"This seat taken?" came the sultry song of a Trottingham accent. It was dulcet, bell-like, completely unlike the crude, cockney lout who had led his team of carriage pullers. 

Soarin observed a grey, classy-looking mare taking the stool next to him. He noted her purple bow tie that was fastened around her neck with a white collar. Her eyes were purple and narrow, giving her somewhat of a scholarly appearance. "Looks like it is now."

The mare giggled. "Oh, you're a funny one." Even her laughter sounded sophisticated.

Soarin half-smiled. "Only when I'm not trying to be." 

"That a fact?" She gave him a sideways glance, mulberry eyes illuminating with seduction. "I like your shades... Makes me wonder what your eyes look like."

Soarin lifted his glasses for her. "Hate to disappoint you, but they're nothing special."

"I beg to differ. I quite like them." The mare smiled hopefully. "Buy a girl a drink?"

Soarin was afraid this was where the conversation was going. He lowered his glasses and turned toward the bar. "I don't think that would be a good idea, miss." 

"Oh..." The mare with the accent said in a dejected tone. "I'm terribly sorry. I suppose you're here with somepony?"

"Yeah, I am. Sorry if I'm coming off as rude. "

"Oh, not at all. I should have known that a gentlepony of your class would be taken..." She sighed. "Story of my life." There was a moment of awkward silence between the two before she spoke again. "Well, anyway, she's a very lucky girl to have you. I'm sure a stallion of your caliber would settle for nothing less but the most elegant of--

"Whoowee, Ah'm havin' more fun than a fox in a hen coop!" Applejack, from out of nowhere, plopped her rump down on the stool at Soarin's side, spun around several times, then stopped to face him. "Hey, Soarin, why don't you come cut a rug with me? Ah' been waitin' for ya practically the whole dang night!" 

"S-sure," said Soarin, startled by Applejack's sudden intrusion. 

"But first, you gotta buy little ole' me a drink," proposed the freckle-faced southern belle, with an irresistible bat of her eyelashes.

"Sure."

The girl with the accent let out an irritated sigh, stood, then walked away.

"What'll ya have?" Soarin asked.

"Gee, Ah don't know." Applejack propped her head up with her hoof, resting an elbow against the polished wooden counter top. "What do ya think Ah'd have?"

"I can't tell you what to drink."

"No," AJ responded, a playful gleam sparkling in her eyes, "but, based on what ya know about me, what do you think Ah'd like?"

Soarin had to think on that one. What kind of drinks did girls usually order? What kind of drink would a girl like Applejack order? After giving the riddle some consideration, an idea suddenly hit him. "Sir," he said to the barkeep, "I think I will have another pint." A sense of self satisfaction came over him as he deduced the solution to Applejack's guessing game. "And an Appletini for my lady friend, if you'd be so kind," he added with all the self assured finality in the world.

Applejack had a mocking smile on her face when the bartender placed the drinks in front of them. "Gee, just when Ah thought Ah had you guessing."

"Hey, what can I say?" Soarin shrugged. "I have a gift."

Applejack swapped her fruity little confection for Soarin's beer. "You got a gift, alright." She tipped the frosty pint against her lips and quaffed it down in just a few deep gulps. She sighed pleasurably as she wiped her mouth. "Whoowee, that hit the spot!"

"That was mine," Soarin complained.

"Nah, yer drink is sittin' right there in front of ya."

Soarin frowned at the little green umbrella drink in front of him. "No self-respecting stallion would ever drink one of these."

"You know," Applejack pointed out, "you can tell a lot about someone by what drink they order at a bar. By what you ordered for yourself there, it tells me that you occasionally like an umbrella inside you."

Soarin flicked the rim of the glass, filling the air with a high note as the ice shavings danced around in the cloyingly sweet green fluid. "As long as it's a closed one."	

Applejack let loose with a hearty laugh. "A'right smart ass, let's see if them hooves are as quick as that mouth 'o yers." Without waiting for a reply, she took Soarin's hoof, yanked him off the bar stool, and dragged him toward the stage. 

Soarin noticed all her friends smiling and sniggering to each other while they watched AJ drag him along like a leashed dog to a veterinarian's office. They made him feel self conscious, but his perturbation lasted for only a second. Soarin reminded himself that he could indeed dance. He had nothing to be afraid of. He hadn't lied when he told Applejack that Spitfire made him take dancing lessons. Whenever he and the captain were forced to smile and pretend to like each other for the cameras at the Grand Galloping Gala and other social events, they were seen dancing with each other. It was ironic that Spitfire forced him to take dancing lessons to keep him from embarrassing her, only for the outcome to be reversed in that she was never able to keep up with him.

The music was symphonic, yet upbeat, which was perfect for Soarin to show off his more advanced hoof work, but he needed to be careful; dancing with a partner required a certain harmony. Steady synchronization was never something that he and Spitfire were ever able to establish. It always seemed that he had to pick up the slack in order to make them both not look like complete idiots. He had to constantly pull her this way or push her that way while trying his damndest to make it look like she knew what she was doing. When you were a Wonderbolt, and the public was watching, you were pressured to do everything perfectly. 

Soarin held his hoof out to Applejack. She smiled and graciously accepted it. Soarin waited for the appropriate moment in the music to initiate his advance. The very moment he established a feel for the rhythm, he gently twisted Applejack's hoof, up and over, causing her to spin once before losing her balance, which Soarin had anticipated. He improvised by deftly catching her and dipping her back before pulling her up. She looked at him as he held her close, wide eyed. "W-what was that?"

"I told you I could dance."

"A-Ah don't think Ah'm as good as you," she admitted with a sudden hint of intimidation in her tone. 

"Just relax and let me lead you. It'll just be harder if you tense up." 

"Okay." Applejack exhaled. "Let's try that last move one more time."

Soarin obliged her, but this time she was able to catch herself and move with the momentum the spin provided for her, instead of clumsily tripping over it. They stood there, frozen in time, hooves interlocked as they leaned away from each other. It was the precise position that particular move was meant to end in. Applejack's satisfied grin stretched practically ear-to-ear. "Did ya see me?"

"I did," Soarin said, too charmed not to laugh. She was so cute when she was all excited like that. "You're a natural."

"What other tricks you got up them sleeves of yers?"

"I could tell you." He pulled her in with a graceful spin and held her close. "Or I could just show you." 

And so Soarin was the moon and Applejack was the tide. She moved beautifully with the subtle hints he gave her. She rolled with the steady smoothness of sea foam rolling over a rocky shore, as if guided effortlessly by a gravitational pull. He spun her, he swayed her, he moved her back, he eased her forward. Her hair had somehow become undone, but she never stopped to fix it. She had even lost her tiara, but she didn't seem to notice. A sheen of sweat was covering them both by the time their fourth song crescendoed to a climax. They found themselves facing each other, smiling and short of breath. "You're... You're amazing!" Applejack managed to exclaim through her labored breathing.

Soarin was about to return the compliment but a sudden eruption of applause interrupted him. They both looked around and suddenly remembered that there was a world that existed around them. Ponies in attendance had formed a circle at one point to watch them dance. Applejack's friends were in the crowd. They seemed to be cheering the loudest. The apple farmer was looking down at the ground, blushing and smiling with that innocent modesty she was so prone to.  

If there was a ever a time to kiss her. And how could he not? She looked so happy. The time seemed so right. Soarin placed his hoof under her chin. "Hey."

"Y'yeah?" She looked up at him in a shy manner that made her seem so vulnerable.

Looking at her, something caused Soarin to hesitate. The moment did seem right - at first. He could kiss her, he supposed... In front of all these ponies... He turned his head to survey all the onlookers. The spirit was willing, but he doubted that all the looky loos would make it a pleasurable experience for Applejack. He reminded himself that he was used to being in the public eye. Having no privacy came with the territory for a Wonderbolt, but AJ was another story. He hadn't planned for this scenario. "You want to, uh, get another drink or something?" he suggested.

Applejack released her apprehension with a relieved sigh and said, "A drink sounds real good about now." She took his arm and let him lead her away from the dance area.

Ah, come on! Sweetie Belle could be heard shouting from somewhere in the crowd. Some of the disappointed onlookers, acquaintances of Applejack, Soarin surmised, grumbled as they began to disperse and go on about their business.

"Water," Soarin said to the barkeep when he took his seat.

"Water sounds good," Applejack agreed.

"Water? I don't mind ordering another pint for you."

Applejack wiped away the flecks of intermingled sweat and residual hair product that was now running down from her scalp. "Nah, Ah think some water would do me some good." She leaned in a relaxed pose over the counter top and huffed with a satisfied grin. "That was one heck of a display you just put on. Ah can't remember a time when Ah had so much fun." She glanced at him from behind a golden lock that had managed to liberate itself during their pirouette. "You up for round two after this?"

The bartender set down two bottles of water between them, followed by a mysterious third bottle. "Compliments of a gentlepony who wishes to remain anonymous," the barkeep said before sauntering away to serve his other patrons.

"We can go round three and four if you'd like."

"Why not five?" Applejack suggested before she guzzled her water down.

"It's not good for you to drink it all so fast," Soarin advised. "It could come back up if you're not careful. Especially when a body has been as active as yours just was."

"Ah'm sorry, are you mah date, or did Ah hire you to be mah personnel trainer?"

Soarin smiled. "I'll be whatever you want me to be." He was then surprised when she took his hoof.

"Ah just want you to be you. Ah really mean it when Ah say Ah'm havin' the time of mah life. Ah never knew Ah could dance like that. You really are incredible, you know that?" She looked away from him, and then she began to blush as she admitted, "Ya know, getting to know you over this passed week has been like a dream. Ah just feel like... Like Ah could wake up at any moment."

"Sir?" The bartender tried to interrupt, but his interjection went unheard.

Soarin eyed her curiously. "A dream?"

"Ah mean..." She paused and coyly stroked the back of her neck. "It just don't feel real. It feels like this passed week has been just one long dream... From the seats at your shows, you seemed like this big star that just burned too bright for anyone to be able to touch. Ah admit that Ah was a bit intimidated every time you'd come up to mah little stand at the gala to buy a pie from me. But there's this whole other side of you that Ah couldn't have anticipated: Yer sweet, down to earth, and you ain't afraid to roll up yer sleeves and get yer hooves dirty."

"Sir?" The bartender tried again.

The Grand Galloping Gala. Soarin was taken by a sense of nostalgia. We were strangers back then. He remembered back to the first time he saw her, standing there with that hopeful look in her eyes, occasionally frowning at a passerby who refused to even look at her. If only he could go back to the past and relive that moment, just so he could look at her through the eyes that he had for her now.  

"Ah would have always thought that a working class pony like me would have been seen as someone who was beneath you, but you've shown me how wrong Ah was," the farmer admitted. "On top of that, Granny loves you to pieces, and Apple Bloom absolutely adores you. Even Big Mac has taken a shine to you. Mah friends-- 

"Sir!"

Soarin finally granted the bartender his attention, which came in the form of an irritated glare. "I already tipped you," he snipped, eager to get back to the conversation. 

"It's not about the gratuity, sir." The barkeep gestured toward the untouched third bottle on the counter he had placed in front of him.

"Who's it from?" Soarin sighed impatiently. His time with Applejack was more valuable to him than riddles, especially when their conversation was finally starting to go somewhere.  

"It's as I've said, he wished to remain anonymous. I'll tell you this, though." The barkeep placed his two front hooves on the counter top and leaned over in a secretive manner. "He was a sullen lookin' fella. Didn't get a good look at him. He was wearing a raincoat with the hood drawn."

"A raincoat?" 

"Yeah, he looked a tad bit out of place. He just gave me this bottle and pointed toward you while you were dancing with your lady friend. Told me to give it to you when you came back. He gave me a, uh, mighty generous tip in return for making sure this bottle made its way to you."

Soarin squinted suspiciously at the receptacle. "How much did he pay you?"

The barkeep smiled. "Not sure yet. It was a pretty sizable bag of bits. I'm looking forward to counting them all out once my shift is over, though. No pre-packaged frozen dinners for this stallion tonight." 

Applejack scooted her stool closer to Soarin so that she could get a better look. The bottle was brown with a long neck, and whatever label had been on it had been carefully peeled away to reveal a lingering pattern of dried adhesive. Nothing about it seemed particularly special. Soarin rolled the amber vessel around in the light that a nearby hanging lantern provided. The glare made it difficult to see, but there was definitely something moving inside. Soarin twisted off the cap, turned the bottle over, and tapped the bottom until a corner section of the object inside protruded from the mouth. 

"A letter?" Applejack wondered.

Wordlessly Soarin removed the scrap of rolled up paper from the bottle and read the words scrawled across it.  

Meet me at your barn as soon as you read this. Come alone.
Spitfire

There was a sudden heaviness in Soarin's gut. A bead of sweat rolled down his brow. She threw my apology back in my face. She said she never wanted to see me again. What in Tartarus could she possibly want! But something was wrong. He seared a glare into the bartender. "You said it was a dude who brought you this bottle."

"It was," the barkeep insisted. "He was tall, and had kind of a deep voice. Also had a bit of a five o'clock shadow going on. Talked kinda like a surfer. Does that sound like a dame to you?"

"Surfer?" It was Wave Chill. It had to be. 

"What's the letter say?" Applejack reached for it.

Soarin pulled it away before she could take it from him. "It's... It's private." He bit his tongue. There was no doubt a better way he could have said that, but for the life of him he couldn't find a way to articulate it.  

"Oh," was all Applejack said. The hurt in her voice was all too evident. 

Soarin looked down at the letter again. "Hey, I have to check on something really quick, alright?"

Applejack looked at him. Soarin could have sworn he saw a tear well up in her eye before she forced herself to look away. 'You're still keeping secrets from me?' Soarin knew that's what she was thinking. It was all over her face.

"Where are you going?" Applejack asked.

"I'm going to... I just have to check on something really quick, alright?" It wasn't right. He could feel her slipping away from him. He finally had her, and now he was losing her. He could have shown her the letter, but if he did, he knew she would insist on coming with him. The abusive way in which Spitfire tended to treat him... She would undoubtedly be livid if he brought Applejack with him after reading that the letter clearly stated to come alone. The things she would say to him... The scolding he would receive... He couldn't bring himself to allow Spitfire to humiliate him in front of Applejack. She would never look at him the same way again. The thought to simply ignore the note's summons crossed him, but he feared that would evoke Spitfire's wrath even further. She'd most likely view that as a provocation to come look for him herself. It might be difficult to get a new start in Ponyville if it starts off with Spitfire emasculating him in front the whole town. "Hey, AJ, I promise, I'll be right back, okay?"

Applejack mooned down at the counter. "That's fine. You go do whatever it is you gotta do." She sighed,  then said to the bartender, "I'll have a shot of whisky, please."

"AJ, don't do this."

The farmer knocked the shot back. "Just go, okay? Go do yer little secret thing you can't tell me about." She looked up at the barkeep. "Make it a double this time."

"At once, ma'am."

"AJ, I'm begging you. Don't just drink and shut me out like this."

Applejack knocked the glass back against her lips, shuttered, then coughed. "Getting drunk and shutting others out? If that don't sound like someone Ah know."

Soarin could only look at her. The words stung, true as they were. Sighing, he finally turned around and looked up at the sky. Moonlight illuminated the thin pale clouds like gleaming snow. It was so bright that the night sky looked more of a dark blue than a proper black. The air was cool and crisp with a pleasant, light wind that carried with it the ambient symphony of crickets and wooden wind chimes. After sparing his date one more glance he spread his wings and took to the sky. 

And so he flew as fast as he could with the desperate hope that AJ would be willing to forgive him, if he was quick enough to get back to her. Soarin feared he'd never have an opportunity like tonight. He was supposed to dance with Applejack, drink with her, make her laugh, have fun with her friends, and the night was supposed to end with a kiss. The end of this night was supposed to mark the beginning of Soarin's happily-ever-after. His life, however, would never be so simple, he knew. His life was not a story, a poem, a song, or a fairy tale. The only two things that existed within the 'fairy tale' that was his existence was his woe and the wicked witch that was at the source of it: A witch that would not burn away in flames or melt when doused in water. Spitfire was a witch - of that Soarin was certain. A witch that everyone perceived as the hero, with no vulnerabilities.