Oh.
The only sign of his confusion was a slight tilt of the head, a faint wrinkle of the eyes and upper twitch of the lip. His phone was already out and in his hands, still dialing.
The girl was, to say the least . . . ah . . . well, the situation was perplexing. She stared up at him with a curious look, mouth parted slightly from craning her neck so. Before entering, Pendergast knew he would be caring for a girl tonight under a friend's favor for which he had owed for some time. But this? This was uncalled for.
"Are you a ghost?" The five-year-old asked.
He chuckled. Oh yes, he thought. D'Agosta was going to pay.
Finally, D'Agosta picked up. To Pendergast's annoyance, he answered with an obvious smug tone. "Pendergast. Did you get to the apartment alright?"
His eye twitched.
"Pendergast?"
"Vincent. Why?"
The girl pursed her lips, looking to the side awkwardly.
He made a poor attempt to stifle laughter. "Jessica needed a babysitter for my goddaughter so she could go to a business meeting, and I was going to see her while they're in town. But, I'm an officer. Work calls me, I called you, you said yes because you owe me from that last stunt with the circus."
"You…never mentioned her…age."
"And you never mentioned I would be undercover as a monkey trainer."
He was silent as Vincent's goddaughter ran to the couch in the next room, peeking over the back to watch him. "She…is five."
"You know that monkeys fling poop at you when they're mad? You do know that, right?" D'Agosta sighed. "Look, I know you're…not used to being with kids her age—"
"She is five."
"Listen, Lily's a sweet girl. Try talking to her…You don't have anything else to do for a few hours. Just make sure she's fed, get her ready for a bath, have her brush her teeth, and put her in bed."
He inhaled, glancing at the child again, then at his watch. It read five-thirty. He had been told the mother would need Lily in bed by nine at the latest. Perhaps that should have been his first clue as to her daughter's true age. "…Can she ready the bath herself?"
"Get it ready for her, but she can take one on her own."
"Dinner is presumably in the refrigerator?"
"Mac N' Cheese."
He winced. "When does her mother return?"
"Don't know for sure. She said eleven, but the meeting might take longer. Lily shouldn't be up by then anyway. You did say you could stay until then…"
"One final question: why couldn't another babysitter be called?"
"Money. Time. I got called in too late to hire someone else on such short notice," He left out trust, another important key factor for why Jessica hadn't contacted anyone else. Recommending Pendergast was probably a good idea, anyway…Probably. Maybe taking revenge like this wasn't the best idea…He liked Jess. This was the least he could do for the hard-working woman. She was always traveling, and it was nice to see her every once in a while.
"Very well, Vincent—but I must insist upon this scenario never happening again."
"Just don't traumatize the poor kid," He hung up.
Pendergast once again made eye contact with Lily, who was once again standing in front of him. He sighed, crouching down on his knee to meet her at eye level. "I am to be your caretaker for tonight. Vincent and I are friends, we have worked on many—ah, cases together. My name is Aloysius Pendergast." He hesitated a moment before sticking a hand out.
It registered clearly in his mind how awkward this situation was.
She made a face. "What kind of name is that?"
Hm. He dropped his hand, smiling. "I've been asking myself that question all my life. You may call me Pendergast, it's easier to pronounce. And your name is Lily, yes?"
She nodded. "Uh-huh . . . Can we turn on Spongebob Squarepants?" Without waiting for an answer she rushed to the television.
This time he made no effort to hide the look of pain. During his many cases, Agent Pendergast had never worked with or around young children, the youngest person period he had spent the most time with being Corrie Swanson. "I…I shall prepare your dinner."
"No!" She ran back over and grabbed his hand, at which he stiffened. "Have you ever watched Spongebob?"
"No."
"Then you need to watch it with me!"
"But I-"
"Please?" She squeezed his hand expectantly, drawing out 'please.' "It's the best show, like, ever!"
He sighed. "Very well."
"F is for friends who do stuff together! U is for you an' me! N is for anywhere and anytime at all, down here in the deep blue sea!"
He was in hell.
As if the sponge's voice alone wasn't grating his nerves enough, Lily was singing off-key at the top of her lungs. Pendergast was in the middle of the couch, hands in lap and back stiff. He had managed to sneak off to the kitchen earlier to at least put her dinner in the microwave, and read the note the child's mother, Jessica, had left. It mostly consisted of emergency numbers and instructions on bedtime. The Mac N' Cheese would take a good five to ten minutes to heat up. Da'Agosta needed a new microwave.
Pendergast was more than willing to get him a new one if this were to ever happen again.
She stopped when the song was over, turning to him. "You're like Squidward. Kind of weird, but I like you."
He blinked, inhaling slowly.
"And quiet. Why are you quiet?"
"I have nothing to say."
"Why?"
He blinked again, and forced an almost painful smile to form on his lips. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself quite enough without me."
She shrugged, plopping herself next to him on the couch. After a short silence, she asked, "Okay, your turn. What do you like to watch?"
"I don't watch television."
Her jaw dropped. "Why?!"
"I have never had the time, nor patience, to sit down and watch TV."
"But…" She looked down, then back up at him. "So can we watch the Campfire Song episode after this?"
The microwave beeped. Relief washed over the agent, and he stood abruptly. "Your dinner is ready."
"You want some?" She offered.
He shook his head. "No, thank you. It's all yours. I'll have mine when I return to my own home."
Lily shrugged, and went back to eating. "Whatever. It's dry anyway, you wouldn't want any."
He pursed his lips as he picked up the box, noting the expiration date was in four days.
"Where are you from?"
He looked up. "Louisiana. New Orleans, that is. And you?"
She picked at her food for a long few moments, frowning. "Everywhere…Nowhere." She shrugged.
"Don't you know where you're from?"
"Mommy's always traveling places and taking me with her, so I'm from either nowhere or everywhere. Maybe both. My home is kinda where I am, and where I am is my world until we go to another one. And then that's my home and world."
He found that to be disturbingly profound from a five-year-old. "Don't you have a home you live in? After your mother is done traveling?"
Lily shrugged. "We always stay at the hotel she works for, but in different towns."
"And school?"
"Mommy home-schools me."
He didn't go any further, allowing her to eat in silence.
"No!" She whined, stomping her foot.
"Your mother told you to take a bath, and I must make sure that you do."
"Why?"
He found her drawing out single words in that high-pitched, whiny tone to be nearly as unbearable as the damn F.U.N song. Well, two could play at this game.
"Because," he said with a rare, Corrie Swanson-approved, shit-eating smile. "I told you so."
She made a face and stuck out her tongue.
He sighed, kneeling down. "If you don't want to take a bath, fine. Don't."
Her face lit up. "Really?!"
"Oh, yes. It's fine with me if you walk around your godfather's apartment smelling like, pardon my saying so, a goat. Carrying disease, sickness, and dirt in from the outside world of New York and not bothering to wash it all off, but instead going right into your bedroom and into your bed, where you sleep. Now, imagine everywhere you've been today. It's been raining recently, so you've no doubt gotten muddy, yes? Even if you washed it off, once you climb into bed without a shower or bath you will be dragging in every bit of that mud that was on your body earlier. Do you know what—what's the term?—germs are? They're tiny living things that are everywhere in the world and on and inside our bodies. Some can help you, like digesting your food, but some can wind up killing you or give you the flu. Mud, as you know, is wet dirt. Dirt is made of the dead bodies of these germs and other assorted, deceased animalia. Now, Lily, one question remains: do you like sleeping in the dead bodies of germs?"
With a look of absolute, stricken horror, Lily turned around silently and ran into the bathroom.
Pendergast was in the kitchen reading the newspaper when a somber looking Lily came in, holding a book and a stuffed blue elephant. He looked at the clock. It was only seven-fifteen.
"Your bedtime is at nine o'clock, but the night is still early. Would you like to . . . What's this?"
She handed him the book, standing next to him.
The book she handed him was Alice in Wonderland, the original tale; a bookmark was shoved between the pages of the Mad Hatter's tea party.
"Can you read to me?"
His eyes widened.
She was settled on the bed in the guest room, snuggling her stuffed elephant, listening to the agent's every word with an intensity only seen on a child when she was fighting off sleep. Lily had forced the agent to sit down beside her, so she could see the pages and read along with him in silence. When Pendergast dared make eye contact with her whilst turning a page, he found that she was staring at him instead, and would give a soft smile to continue. He would smile back, and keep going.
Pendergast even found that he enjoyed the activity. Lily's smile—the childhood innocence that framed that small face—rattled something in his mind that he had not seen or felt in such a long time, and felt towards so few people in this world, that he found this evening with her to be something of a gift.
At one point, Lily tugged on his sleeve.
He looked up. "Yes?"
In a sleepy state, she scooted herself to a sitting position and hugged him. He froze for a long moment, and hugged her back.
"Mr. Pendergast?"
A ghost of a smile fluttered across his features, eventually lifting the corner of his mouth. There was a very likely chance that she was about to fall asleep in his arms. "Yes Lily?"
"Thank you. For taking care of me tonight." Her arms dropped to her side, but she continued to lean into him. Pendergast held her there, letting the smile fully form.
"And thank you for an interesting night. I hope we will see each other again someday soon."
"Mommy," she yawned, "isn't leaving until next week."
"Here," He laid her back down so she could properly get some rest, but she held onto his hand. "If that is the case, then I shall see you again soon. Goodnight, Lilly." He kissed her forehead and put the book on the nightstand, turning off the light. "I promise this won't be the last time you will see me."
He returned to the living room where Jessica would meet him.
I DON'T HATE SONEGEBOB OR THE F.U.N SONG. This is Agent Pendergast we're talking about, people.
Just for the record, nothing in the books (that I've read) has anything to do with a circus, which I just thought could probably happen sometime. Vincent getting stuck as the monkey trainer while Pendergast is disguised as a juggler in the background, or something like that. However, it might very well happen one day…
Jessica and Lily are owned by me.
Agent Pendergast and D'Agosta are owned by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child. I thank them for putting up with fanfiction.