*Author's Notes: My answer to Dean's "A day in the life of..." challenge. Hope it's suiting. *Disclaimer: Walter Skinner, Pendrell and Dana Scully don't belong to me. They are property of CC, 1013 and FBC. No serious infringements intended. T h e X - F i l e s Pendrell's Poetry By Charleyne Hall (drakkar@bconnex.net) ----- Pendrell Residence Alexandria, VA Darrin Pendrell closed the morning's newspaper, folding it neatly and setting it aside. He smiled into the cup of coffee which was ritual to drink every morning. The sunshine lit up the tiny kitchen of the house. "Darrin, honey," a husky woman's voice drifted through his lightheaded, semi-awake state. He shook his head and shrugged. "Yeah?" he called, taking a sip of the black liquid. "Can you come here, please?" "Aw, do I have to?" he answered, shifting in his chair. He was tired of having to answer to her every beck and call. "Darrin, get your ass out here this instant, young man!" the woman's tone grew sharper. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, slipping out of his seat and carrying his coffee cup out of the kitchen and down the hallway to his bedroom. He glanced around, taking in the familiar posters and computer equipment. "What is it?" he snapped, unintentionally. "I wanted you to know that I pressed your underwear and that I've made your bed for you. Now, when you get home tonight, I want you to remember to hang up you tie. Is that understood?" He regarded the woman carefully. Her hair was graying and she looked to be almost seventy, even though she was not a day older than sixty. She was glaring at him with her beady brown eyes and just waiting for him to challenge her. "Yes, mom," he said, sighing heavily. She patted his head and smiled. "That's what I like to hear, my boy. Now, promise me you won't go getting shot today, okay? I'd like to live to see you for dinner tonight." "Look, I think I won't be home for supper--" "You'll be home. I'm making some of your favorite stew." "But mom..." "No buts. Be here or you'll be grounded." "Mom, I'm thirty-two. You can't ground me anymore," he said quietly, knowing full well that she would certainly try. He was her little baby, the youngest of three boys and two girls. He also happened to be the less brilliant of the five. Oh, he was smart in IQ sense, but when it came to moving out of the house he'd made the *wrong* choice. He'd chosen to stay and now she ruled his life. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do! As long as you're living under this roof--" "You'll live by my rules," he finished for her, cutting the older woman off. "I know all about that scheme." "And if you don't like it, you'll find somewhere else to live." "Right, mom. Whatever," he replied. He pursed his lips and looked down at the coffee cup in his hand. He sighed and took a sip of it. "Is that hot enough for you?" she asked, babying him. "Yes, it's fine. Now, I've got to get going to work," he replied. He watched as she lifted his jeans out of the dirty clothes hamper. She checked the pockets and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which he hadn't mean to leave. He immediately blushed, but didn't ask her to stop unfolding the paper. She smiled gently and looked up at him with a motherly "I hope this is the one" look. "Who's this?" she asked, holding up the paper. It was a colour photocopy of a red-haired FBI agent. He swallowed with difficulty and shrugged. "Come on, you can tell me. Who's the woman?" she insisted. "Is she your girlfriend?" "Mom, she's not my girlfriend. She's Agent Dana Scully. I--I shouldn't even have that picture. She doesn't even see me," he said, almost bitterly. He relaxed when she re-folded the paper, sensing that this was not the time to pick on her son. He seemed slightly irritable this morning. Of course, she had no way of knowing it was her fault for treating him the way she did. "Well, here. If it makes you happy, you might want to keep it," she said, handing him the folded paper. "Make sure you don't leave it in the pocket next time or I'll likely wash it." "Yes, mom," he said and turned. He walked back to the kitchen, discarding the coffee. His day had already been utterly ruined. He needed to get out of the house. Even if it meant going to the hell hole he knew only as "work". On his way to the door, he stopped to grab his suit jacket and tie. He sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. Of course, she was at the door waiting for him, a smile on her old face, making her seem even older despite the happiness displayed. He tried to sidestep her, but she was too fast. She caught his shoulder and planted a motherly kiss on his cheek. "Have a good day, dear," she said. He nodded but did not turn back. He slowly made his way to the government issue vehicle and as he was opening the door, he heard her call one last thing. "Are you warm enough, honey? Do you need your coat?" He couldn't ignore her, so he just smiled and waved. He jumped into the car and started it. He backed the car out of the driveway and spun the tires as he sped away in haste. ----- FBI Headquarters Washington, DC 8:32 am The office was relatively quiet when he arrived. He sighed heavily and threw his suit jacket over the back of his chair, firing up the computer that took up most of his desk space. As the computer booted he made his way over to the coffee machine that was situated across the office from his desk. Might as well start fresh, he thought. He poured a cup of fresh coffee and smiled when he saw the steam rising from it. "Anything beats a cup of McDonald's coffee, huh, Pendrell?" Agent Mark Greason asked, punching him lightly on the shoulder as he passed. "Yeah," Pendrell replied quietly. Returning to his computer, he noticed that his e-mail light was flashing. His mouth felt dry as he double clicked on the icon, forcing himself to brace for the worst. Probably another crackpot, jack-off assignment that any of the other Bureau buffoons could cover. To his surprise and secret delight, it was a message from his favorite Agent, Dana Scully. He allowed a smile to turn the corners of his mouth, confident that it was far too early for anyone to wonder what he was so happy about. The smile didn't last long, though. The message was another normal "Have you done this for me yet?" request. He shrugged, keyed in a quick reply and felt his heart sink again. Too bad, he thought, I could show her a few tricks. He closed his eyes and leaned back. He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment and tried to get some of the tension out. "Pendrell!" He jerked, opening his eyes. Oh God, he thought, ASAC Darek. He nodded and stood up. "Sir?" he asked. "Get your ass over here!" the older man commanded, pointing his finger angrily. Pendrell swallowed and felt a light film of sweat forming on his forehead. He strained to keep himself calm and smiling. He got out of his seat and walked toward the bald man. He could feel Darek's steely gray eyes on him as he self consciously advanced. "Sir?" he asked again, politely. "Don't 'sir' me. Tell me what the hell this is," the ASAC cried, shoving a folder under Pendrell's nose. "Uh, that's a case report, sir," Pendrell answered, relaxing slightly. "No, it's not," Darek barked stepping closer so that he could bring his face directly in front of Pendrell's. Intimidation was definitely a good way to get an agent to talk, especially a wimp like Pendrell. "Uhm, then I'm afraid I don't know what it is..." "Open it and look at page five, then you can explain to me why AD Skinner sent that back to me with a request to have you see him immediately." Pendrell opened the report and recognized it as one he'd filed just the other day. His stomach sank when he realized what the Darek was referring to. On the margin of one of the pages was a few side comments -- unfortunately they had nothing to do with the report. They made reference to a certain red-haired agent. Pendrell swallowed. "Sir, I--" "Don't make excuses to me. That is completely unacceptable and AD Skinner will deal with it at 9 am," Darek said and then stalked off. Darrin Pendrell stared down at the page. Somehow the rough copy had gotten mixed in with his report and the page contained some very suggestive remarks about Scully. Pendrell's mouth instantly dried out when he realized what he'd done. "No more late night-no coffee-reports," he mumbled to himself. Feeling quite sick to his stomach, Pendrell returned back to his desk and washed two tablets of Tylenol down with the remaining coffee. Today was definitely going to be hell. ----- AD Skinner's Office 8:59 am Pendrell couldn't help feeling terrible. All he wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed to wilt away. He didn't care about his career, not if Skinner was going to chew him out. In honesty, he was surprised that Skinner would actually want to deal with the matter himself. It only made things that much worse. "Agent Pendrell?" His head snapped up and he noticed Skinner's assistant standing before him, smiling openly. He wanted to slap her-- to wipe the silly grin off her face. It was as though she knew what he'd done and that he was going to fry and hell for it. "Yes?" he asked, rather coldly. "AD Skinner will see you now," she said and walked away. He imagined he could hear her laughing. Pendrell drew a deep breath and tugged at the collar of his shirt, adjusting his tie. He licked his lips and headed for the door to Skinner's office. Entering, he was confronted by the balding man, who was standing in front of his desk and pacing as if he were ready to chew someone out. Pendrell expelled his breath and swallowed noisily. "Agent Pendrell, have a seat, please," Skinner began. He ran a finger across his desk then looked at Pendrell for a moment. Skinner leaned back on the desk and crossed his arms across his chest, staring down at Pendrell from underneath his wire frame glasses. "I saw your interesting little footnotes regarding Agent Scully, is there anything you'd like to say for yourself?" Pendrell couldn't speak for a moment. He didn't know what to say. Skinner saw this and his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. He stared at the agent in a menacing way. "Sir, I--" Pendrell said and stopped. He still hadn't found the words to explain. He didn't know if there was any way to explain. Perhaps just tell the plain truth. "I'm sorry, sir, I was tired and.. Well, like any normal -- er, well, like any person is capable of I made the mistake of mixing up some of my private notes." "Make sure it doesn't happen again," Skinner said, sternly. "I haven't made Agent Scully aware of the situation but I'm sure, the way things spread through the bullpen, that she'll know by the end of the day at the latest. I hope you have time to concoct a suitable apology." Pendrell nodded, surprised to be let off the hook so lightly. "And I don't *ever* want to see this sort of thing on an official report again. Is that clear?" "Clear as glass, sir," Pendrell said. Skinner waved him out of the office and Pendrell left without a backward glance. He'd come short of being hung by the Skinner noose. Assistant Director Walter Skinner waited until the door of his office had closed before he allowed the laughter to barrel out of him. He couldn't help it. He'd so often thought of Scully as somewhat of a pseudo-daughter, that he just hadn't realized that someone would write such colourful poetry about the woman. The last of his chuckles died away and he hoped that Scully and Pendrell wouldn't be too embarrassed by the incident. It was another day in the crazy life of a Bureau agent. ----- The End. *Note: Heheh. I can't stand Pendrell. He strikes me as the whiny "I live with my mother and will continue to do so until I'm 82" kinda guy. In other words, an immature... Well, never mind that. Hope you enjoyed it. And again, Dean, XA rules. Thanks for re-opening! Char, of the M&S kind. __________________________________________________________________________ XAngst Anonymous Member T h e Smart Young X-Phile #276 - - Lone Gunwoman #41 \ / Melissketeer X Skinner Chick Extreme Possibilities Member / \ EMXC Mysterious & Suspicious Founder - - X-Files Fan Fic Lover F i l e s Co-Founder Anti-Spellin' Brigade (tm) _________________________________________________________________________ Visit the M&S homepage http://www.republic.se/xfiles Charctavius of the New Triumverate