In Earnest

TITLE: In Earnest
AUTHOR: kaydee falls
CLASSIFICATION: S. not quite UST, a little A.
RATING: PG-13 for some language
SUMMARY: Pendrell's rambling thoughts that ill-fated
night at the Headless Woman Pub
SPOILERS: Tempus Fugit/Max especially, some Nisei/731
DISTRIBUTION: Yes, please, but tell me where its going.
DISCLAIMER: nope, not mine, none of em. Talk to CC et
al at 1013.

THIS IS MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT FANFIC. HELP ME OUT HERE.
Send feedback (please!) to HPTFalien@aol.com. Unless
you hated Pendrell's guts and rejoiced at his death; in
that case, just don't even read the story.
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The Headless Woman Pub
Washington, D.C.
Not long after February 23, 1997

I think I might be drunk. The world is getting a
little hazy, and I'm having trouble lifting my glass
of beer. On the other hand, I hear myself making small
talk with a waitress, and I don't think my voice is
slurred.

Well, another beer should do it.

Damn, I hate drinking alone. Actually, I'm not much of
a drinker in general, but every now and then I make an
exception. Like when I'm alone. And thinking too hard.
About her.

What day is it? I'm not sure any more. It must be a
couple of days after her birthday. I haven't seen her
in almost a month now. I've taken to almost never going
home, out of hope that she'll walk into my lab and ask me
to run a test on some tissue samples, or maybe another
weird microchip. Or maybe just to say hey there, Pendrell,
how you doing, want to come over to my place tonight --

Yeah, right. Dream on. Have another drink.

It's not like I have anything to go home to. Or anyone.

Think about something else. There's that test tube
Fuller and Caleca sent me for analysis this morning. I
think I've determined that it doesn't match the blood
sample of their suspect, but there are certainly some
odd similarities in unusual areas. I should probably
run the tests a few more times to make sure. You never
know what will turn up if you probe deeply enough. Like
that bizarre chip Agent Scully brought me last year....

Shit. There I go again. But it was one of my first times
meeting her. The first time she had asked me to do
anything for her, anyway. And wow, what an amazing device
that was. But not half so amazing as the woman who
brought it to me.

I mean, Scully is just -- I don't know. Indescribably
breathtaking. She has this red hair that just glows, and
a figure that makes you just want to reach out and touch
her, and if you can get her to smile -- God. I would have
done anything for her. From the start. Redheads should
stick together, right? That was the excuse I made for
myself as I analyzed her microchip, or whatever the hell
it was. I thought I must have impressed her, too, with
the vast stores of knowledge I've hoarded through the
years of schooling and training. The vast stores of
knowledge that got me my assignment at the FBI's
Sci-Crime Lab, despite my youth.

The vast stores of knowledge that failed to impress her
beyond professional interest.

But I didn't realize that until later. The first encounter
I had with her, I kept my cool. I was not struck dumb by
her beauty and just -- her. The second encounter, after
I called her to tell her the results of my continued
examination of the chip, I was doing pretty well, too.
As long as I was only talking about the results.

Then she told me I'd done well, and to keep up the good
work, and turned the force of her small smile on me.
That's when I was struck dumb.

Let's face it. When it comes to small talk with Scully,
I'm a total doof.

And then, to top it all off, I meet her partner.

I smile bitterly to myself, taking another swig of beer.
That wasn't strictly accurate. I had met him already, he
came to me for some small assistance a few times before
I met Scully, and of course everyone knows Spooky Mulder.
But I hadn't really -- MET him met him, if you know what
I mean. I had always been sort of indifferent towards him.
It wasn't until the two of them together came to me that
the realization hit me: SHIT.

He's her PARTNER.

And from all accounts, they work WELL together. REALLY
well. And, when I looked at him again, I realized that
he's pretty good-looking. Intelligent, no doubt, he went
to Oxford. And devoted to her.

That was obvious immediately. I can't even remember why
they needed me that day, I was so focused on just
watching them, jealously. The way he would defer to her
in an area that she had more expertise. The way he stood
just behind her, like a bodyguard or something, ready to
jump to defend her should the need arise. The way he kept
glancing at her, gazing at her, when she didn't notice.
The way he shut up immediately when she lightly touched
his arm, after he was starting to argue with my findings
on whatever.

The way I had to struggle, so hard, to keep her attention
on me as I recounted my results and conclusions, trying
to out gaze him, keep her eyes mine.

Thanks, Pendrell, she said when I had finished. Keep
us posted if you find anything more.

I replied, and promptly gave myself a mental
smack on the head for lack of creativity.

She flashed me a small smile -- oh, that smile -- and
turned to go. I watched her back dreamily, having
forgotten everything else in the glory of that little
smile. Then, abruptly, I was aware of Mulder's sharp
gaze on me.

He started to follow her out, hand not quite touching
the small of her back to direct her, when he murmured
something I didn't catch and turned back to me. She
nodded imperceptibly and continued walking, out the door
and down the hall.

You don't think there's anything more to be found in
this sample, do you? he asked me.

Well, no, not really, but you never know, I thought...
I heard myself stutter, and stopped abruptly. No, I
didn't think there was anything to be gleaned in this
aspect of their case.

You could have just told us that, Mulder said, eying
me intently. Why did you pretend that you might be able
to find more information? We deal in dead ends, more
often than not.

I don't know what you mean, I told him. But I was
getting a little uncomfortable.

I never noticed before how...eager you are to please,
Pendrell, he said, voice dangerously soft. You've
always been very blunt with me, when it comes to proving
one of my theories wrong. Why the sudden change of heart?

He had struck close to home, and he knew it. Just doing
my best to help out your investigation, I said, lamely.
I was reminded, at the time, of a high school senior who
had warned an insignificant freshman off his girlfriend.
These little questions made me feel the same as
I had at fourteen.

It wouldn't offend Scully to know that this particular
piece of evidence isn't going to give us any new leads,
Mulder said, backing off his intensity a little. I know
you've helped us much as you can on this case, and that
you'll help us again in the future, to the best of your
abilities. But you shouldn't feel you have to be as
involved in our cases as Agent Scully and I are.

-Why doesn't he ever call her Dana?- I wondered. -I like
to think of her as Dana, sometimes. Agent this and Agent that...sometimes, it all seems so impersonal. Cold.-

And yet, recently, you always try to appear very involved, Mulder continued. You're so eager. So in earnest.

I smiled at that, suddenly, almost bitterly, reacting to
an irony he doesn't catch. I understand you, Agent
Mulder, I said, stressing his name, but if you don't
mind, I'd liketo get back to my work now.

He left then, and never really brought up the subject of
my again. I guess he judged me as no threat
to his territory, to his Dana Scully. Every now and then,
when she's not there, he pokes fun at my admiration of her.
Damn, I hate that.

Another beer. How long have I been here?

Last call, folks! The bartender. All right, I've been
here a while then. Must be late. I start to stand, and
realize, okay, NOW I'm drunk. So I sit back down. Just
need a few minutes to get my bearings again. I close my
eyes to reorient myself, and see her face, vividly. Damn.
I put a hand to the pocket of my pants, and feel the
envelope in there. I'll give it to her when I see her --
whenever that is.

And, to my amazement, she's here. Immediately, my tongue
ties in knots and my gaze becomes even less focused than
before. Shit, shit, she's gonna walk right by me, she
doesn't see me sitting here at the bar....

I reach out a hand and gently turn her towards me. Hey!
Birthday girl! I say, beaming goofily I'm sure.

She looks at me with her bottomless blue eyes, smiles
slightly. I'm in heaven. Heaven. Agent Pendrell, how are
you doing?

My spirits, aided by the beer, drop abruptly, although I
don't alter the expression on my face.-So formal. Why is
she always so formal with me?-

I — I have something for you, I stutter, hopefully
comprehensibly. Where have you been? Oh, shit. Now I
sound like a pathetic loser. Like I've been just sitting
at the bar waiting for her to show up. Well, I guess I
have, but still.

I've been, uh, gone, she says vaguely. -She can tell me.
She can trust me. Why can't she trust me? I'd do anything
for her.-

I say. -What sort of response is that, moron?- Can
I buy you a drink? -Stupid, stupid. The best you can come
up with is a pick up line? Oh shit, I sound like a drunken
fool. Well, that's what I am.-

No, you know what? she says, embarrassed. That's okay.
I'm with somebody.

PLUNK. That was the sound of my heart hitting the floor.
-Say something intelligent!- a voice in the back of my
mind hisses.

I say intelligently. -Real smooth,- the voice tells
me, disgusted. I glance over to her table, and see her
date, and feel very surprised that it's not Mulder.
Somehow, I force a chuckle. Let me buy him a drink too,
I add gallantly. -Better. Be noble.-

No, you know what? It's okay, she says again. Suddenly,
I understand the meaning of the word crestfallen.' I'm it.

So, of course, I start babbling. No, no, no, I insist,
I insist, I say, just in case she hadn't yet realized I
was drunk. Hell, I could use another drink now anyway.
Bartender, bartender! Set me up with, uh, a couple of,
uh, birthday girl drinks here. I can feel my face turn
bright red. Am I doing well tonight, or what? I see Dana
sigh and walk to her table. -At least she's letting me
buy her drinks now. That's something.-

The bartender's with me now. Can I have a couple of
your finest beers, skip the glasses, and another one of
these... I break off, and study the now-empty glass in
front of me. I finish lamely. The bartender
rolls his eyes, but gets me what I ask for. Can't wait
to see my tab tonight.

I start crossing over to the table where Dana and her
date -- a man I've never seen before, wonder where she
found him -- are sitting. It takes all my concentration
to stay steady on my feet and not drop the beers.
Suddenly, this concentration is broken by Dana Scully's
shout.

Get down! she yells, whipping out her gun. Her date
whirls to look behind him, and in my moderately drunken
state, so do I. I hear a gunshot fired, and suddenly time
stops.

One of the bottles I am carrying shatters.

-How did that happen?- I wonder distractedly. I hardly
realize that I'm falling until I hit the ground. -Oh,-
I think.

Everything around me is hazy -- sights, sounds, feelings.
I'm aware of a sense of confusion, panic maybe, screaming?
I'm not sure. I think my chest hurts -- yes. There's
pain. Like fire. And it's hard for me to breathe. I don't
know why.

-So this is what it feels like to get shot.-

-Why can't I breathe?-

A face looms into view. Scully. Dana. The bullet must
have missed my heart, because I think its going to burst
with all the things she doesn't know about me that I want
to tell her.

You're going to keep breathing, Pendrell, she says. -No
no no no stop being formal with me please make it personal
the envelope in my pocket....- Do you hear me? she
demands. I try to nod. She's so...earnest. -Anything,
Dana. Anything.-

She undoes my tie and pulls my shirt open. I don't want
to see what she sees. Tears are forming in her eyes when
she looks at me. Scared. -I'm scared, too....-

Someone says something, and she looks up quickly, I think
she says something to me but I can't hear, she's going
away. -No stop Dana I have something to give you....-

Things are happening all around me, and I'm terrified at
how disoriented I'm becoming. Other people are leaning
over me, her date is there, I don't even care. All I care
about is Dana.

Time passes, I don't know how long, maybe an hour, maybe
a minute. I can't tell any more. Suddenly she's here
again, pressing something against the part of my chest
that's on fire. -She's going to put out the fire. I'm on
fire but she's here she's going to put it out....-

We've got paramedics on the way, she tells me. I think
I might be nodding, yes, I understand, it's a big fire
and they need paramedics to put it out. You're going to
the hospital. You're going to be okay. -I probably have
third degree burns from the fire in my chest, that's why
I need to go to the hospital, the bullet must have set my
chest on fire, that's funny, I don't remember ever
learning that bullets set you on fire.-

she whispers, we still haven't celebrated my
birthday, Pendrell. I'm not going to let you off the hook
like this. I try to laugh, to reassure her, but I can't
laugh and breathe at the same time. I promised her I would
keep breathing. I want to tell her....

But she's standing up again, leaving me again. -Don't leave
me. I have to tell you....Someone's taking my gun no stop
it's mine oh he's giving it to Dana all right that's all right....Dana....-

Something is strapped around my face, I can feel it, and
I'm being lifted, carried away from her. -NO!- I scream
silently. -I need to give her something, it's her
birthday...-

I feel myself being put in an ambulance, there are people
all around me but none of them is her....

-She was so earnest....earnest....I never told her....she
doesn't know....-

Tired. So tired. It's so hard to think, to breathe, to
put out the fire. -I'm so sorry Dana.- Everything is
fading away. -I've never broken a promise before.-

A cemetery
Washington, D.C.
Two weeks later

It's March already, but it's still cold. The wind in
the cemetery chills one to the bones. A solitary woman
ignores this, picking her way delicately through the
gravestones until she reaches the newest one. It's small
and neat, nothing showy, just like Pendrell always was.

She pulls the envelope out of the pocket of her black
trench coat. One of the nurses at the hospital had given
it to her.

she had said quietly. It was in the back pocket
of his pants. It's addressed to you. A beat. I'm sorry.

Numbly, she had taken it, seen the name Dana Scully
scrawled on the front. And she had carried it around
with her ever since. But she hadn't opened it. Nor had
she told Mulder about it. But now, standing in front of
his grave, she carefully slit the envelope.

There was a card inside. A cheesy birthday card. Inside,
he had scrawled, It's your birthday, let's stop being
formal for once. And signed his name.

I never knew your first name, she whispered, tracing
the inscription on the cold stone marker with one gloved
finger.

In Loving Memory
of
Ernest Pendrell

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thanks for reading....
feedback goes to HPTFalien@aol.com. PLEASE, constructive
criticism only, no hate mail, I'm new at this so bear with me!