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.”

“Anything,” 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 “friendly” 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 “earnestness” 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.-

“Oh,” 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.

“Oh.” 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. “...beers,” 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.-

“Look,” 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.

“Here,” 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!