Category:  Slash Parody/R (adult themes, language)
Spoilers:     None
Disclaimer:  Don't own 'em. CC does.

Summary:  What happened to Agent Pendrell when he was summoned to make
an appearance in the Hall of Slash Fanfic at the end of Wonderland II:
 Tinytown.

A "Wonderland" Companion...
IN THE LAIR OF THE DARK BRAT
**************
by CiCi Lean, 1997
All comments welcome.

Brian Pendrell thought he was having a nightmare.

He was being dragged down the darkened and hushed hall of a immense
building by a huge, laughing guard, who was yanking him by the collar
every time he tried to make his desperate and despondent escape.  Oh,
please, please, please...*let* this be a nightmare, Pendrell prayed.

But, alas, it wasn't.

Soon, a huge sign loomed overhead.

"The B. Antrim Wing - Gossamer Asylum Slash Unit"

Pendrell's teeth chattered when he saw it. Oh, my God, slash.  Slash.
Slash. Slash, his mind repeated fearfully, until he thought about It
for a moment.  Gee, what is slash anyway?  Hey, maybe it's just a gory
X-File story, thought Pendrell hopefully.  Like Jason or Friday the
Thirteenth or "Scream". 

Maybe I'll just get my head sliced off or my throat slit open, he
thought happily. You know..."slash".

The next display immediately disabused him of that notion.

"Remember - Choose Your Lubrication Wisely."

Pendrell bit his fist to keep from crying out in terror. He attempted
to bolt, but was quickly snatched back by Ralph, the hulking Gossamer
Guard.

"Oh, no you don't," said Ralph, collaring Pendrell and dragging him
back as he flailed.  "Here you go, Room 329, DarkBrat.  And don't piss
this one off, she's got a big mouth.  Moan, moan, moan...bitch, bitch
bitch.  That's all these authors seem to be doing lately.  Frankly, I
think they should do more writing, less whining."

"Let me go!" cried Pendrell, as Ralph chuckled and tossed him inside
the room.

"Have fun Lab-Buns!" yelled Ralph with a hoarse laugh, as he quickly
slammed the door shut behind the trembling Pendrell.

Pendrell threw himself against the door, but realizing there was no
way out, turned around slowly with dread in his eyes.  

He blinked at what he saw.

He was in a small room, very similar to a classroom, with modest
plastic chairs and an old desk.  In one of these chairs, sat a young
man in a worn leather jacket, loudly chewing a tremendous wad of
bubble gum and reading an old issue of  "Popular Mechanics". 
Suddenly, he held up his prosthetic hook, and clicked it curiously,
while glancing back at the article.  He sighed, somewhat sadly and
then flipped to the next page.

Pendrell gasped.  Oh, that was him.  The one armed man...Krycek.  

The one he was supposed to...to...to...

Argh.

Pendrell slid down the wall in terror until he bumped into a chair
that lie in his path.

"Watch it," grumbled Walter Skinner, as he shook his copy of the New
York Times into submission.  

"Oh, hello sir," said Pendrell respectfully, noticing with extreme
curiosity that Skinner wasn't wearing any pants.  "How are you?"

Skinner merely grunted in reply.

Pendrell bit his lip, desperate for some sort of soothing
conversation.  "Well, gee sir, aren't you cold?" he asked Skinner
politely.  "Shouldn't you be wearing some pants?"

Skinner shrugged his massive shoulders.  "Around here...what's the
point?"

Pendrell blanched.  "Oh, dear," he whispered, slinking off fearfully
to the far corner of the room and sitting quietly, trying to make
himself as small as possible. His heart leapt into his throat when he
heard the door open once more, but breathed a sigh of relief when he
saw Fox Mulder enter.

Mulder ambled over to the refreshment table and poured himself a large
coffee with a yawn.  He grabbed a bagel with cream cheese and sat in
the chair between Krycek and Skinner.

"Morning, Krycek," said Mulder, taking noisy slurp of his coffee.

"Morning, Mulder."

"Morning *Wally*."

"Morning *Foxy*."

When Mulder finally saw Pendrell, sitting miserably in the far corner
of the room, he nearly spat out an entire mouthful of coffee.  "Holy
shit.  What's *he* doing in here?" asked Mulder, incredulously,
pointing at Pendrell.

"Two guesses, Oxford boy," Krycek yawned.

"No. Really?" said Mulder, suddenly looking at Pendrell with obvious
and extreme discomfort.  "Um.  He's...uh... um...not with... uh... I
mean, I'm not...uh..."

"He's with me," replied Krycek, in a bored tone.  "What else is new?"

Mulder looked relieved until he saw the hurt expression on Pendrell's
face. "Oh, no offense there, Pendrell... it's just that I'm kinda
stretched past my limit these days."

"In more ways than one," Skinner snorted.

"Oh, this is awful," Pendrell moaned suddenly, his face in his hands. 
"What have I ever done to deserve this? Why do they do this to us?"

"Because they can?" offered Krycek.

"Someone give that boy a cracker," said Skinner, yanking his tight
white briefs down into a slightly more comfortable position.

"But that in itself is no reason to abuse us like this," said Pendrell
indignantly.  "As characters who were originally another person's
creation, don't we have *some* rights?"

"No," replied Skinner, squirming miserably.  He was going to get those
damn boxers next time, if it was the last thing he did.

"Look, Pendrell.  Just go with the flow, OK?" said Mulder, biting into
the bagel.  "Or you'll find yourself greased up like a rodeo hog and
sliding down a pole wearing a pair of pink satin panties."

"Yep. Been there, done that," nodded Krycek, not looking up from his
magazine.

Pendrell gasped.  "That's terrible!"

Krycek shrugged.  "I dunno.  Those panties were kind of comfortable."

Skinner harumphed and yanked at his briefs again.  "Maybe I can get a
pair of them, then.  Why are these damn things always three sizes too
small around here?"

"We have to do something about this," said Pendrell sternly, rising
from his chair.  "There has to be something we can do.  Wait!  I got
it!  I got it!"

"Not yet, you haven't," sniggered Krycek.

But Pendrell didn't hear him.  He was animated, full of righteous
vigor.  "We'll convince them that portraying us completely in
character is something that should be strived for," he said, waving
his arms.  "That this will be the mark of a talented fanfiction
writer...the apex of their art!"

Skinner rolled his eyes. "What the hell has he been smoking?"

Mulder shook his head.  "I dunno.  But he'd better be careful.  This
author will put him in bed with Frohike, no problem."

"Been there, done that," said Krycek airily, turning another page.

Mulder and Skinner grimaced at him in unison.

Krycek shrugged.  "Wasn't my idea."

Beside them, Pendrell continued to rant.  "And once they become
convinced to write us in character, in canon character..."

"Canon? Well, then you'll get a vacation, Pendrell," said Skinner drily.

Mulder chuckled.  "Yeah, a long one."

Suddenly, Scully and Marita came flying out from the back of the room,
dressed in silk lingerie and giggling madly.  Marita whipped off
Scully's robe and shrieking with laughter, they tore out the door,
their happy squeals echoing through the halls.

Pendrell stared at them as they skipped away. "Can I be slashed with
them, maybe?" he asked plaintively.

"NO!" yelled Mulder, Skinner and Krycek in unison.

"Thank you, ladies!" yelled out the author, as she entered the room
and flung down her briefcase. She turned to the men. "Good morning, my
lovelies.  How are you all today?"

"Fine, mam'," the characters said in unison.

"Good, good.  Ahhh, our newest acquisition is here.  Welcome to the
DarkBrat's House O'Howlin' Fun.  How are you, darling?"

Pendrell took a deep breath.  "Not so good."

The entire room turned grimly silent.

"Now, look here, HepCat or DingBat or whoever you are," said Pendrell
firmly.  "I want you to know that I am very much against this abuse of
my character and I will not submit to any of these strange
shenanigans.  So, please take me off your list of victims immediately."

The others gasped in horror.

But the author looked nonplussed.  "Awwww.  Aren't you precious?" she
cooed, pinching Pendrell's cheek.  "He's adorable, isn't he, Alex?"

Krycek looked up with wide eyes.  "Oh, yeah.  Adorable," he gulped.

"Well, as you all know, I wanted a novelty, and it was either him...or
him," said the author, casually pointing to the far south corner of
the room where a thin wisp of cigarette smoke was rising.

Cancerman waved at them.

"AAAAGGGHHHH!" Mulder, Skinner and Krycek screamed in unison.

"See?"  said the author, with a sigh.  "I really don't think I'm up to
that sort of challenge...yet.  So, it's your turn darling," she said
to Pendrell, pinching his cheek once more.  She looked at him
appraisingly for a long moment.  "Hmm, this hair of yours.  It's
redder than I thought.  Rather fuzzy too.  Maybe a straightener will..."

"Wait a minute, don't I know you?" asked Pendrell, peering at the
author face curiously.  "You look very familiar."

The author stared at him and adjusted her sunglasses a little higher. 
"Uh, no.  I don't believe you do."

But Pendrell squinted harder, trying to ferret out hidden features. 
"Yes.  You *do* look familiar.  You look an awful lot like another
author that I've met before.  Many times before."

"Oh, no...not I," giggled the author nervously.  "I'm sure we've
never, ever..."

Suddenly, Pendrell's eyes flew open and he turned a bright scarlet.
"Wait a minute. IT'S YOU!" he screamed, as the author leapt up in
fear.  "YOU! That...that ...that...author who hates me!  The one who
keeps torturing me and making me into something I'm not!"

"No, no, no...I'm just expanding your possibilities." gulped the
author, wondering when security would get back from lunch.  'Your
*extreme* possibilities."

"You..." snarled Pendrell.  "Oh, I've been waiting to get my hands on
you.  Yes, this is a happy day."

"Now, honey..."

"Don't you call me *honey*.  You...you...you SADIST!"

The author put her hands on her hips and scowled at Pendrell.  "What
an ingrate you are.  I mean, look at all the nice things I've done for
you. I gave you a nice wife.  Huh?  Nobody's done that before."

"YOU KILLED HER!" screamed Pendrell.

"Well, no I didn't, but you'll find that out in Chapter Six."

Mulder laughed.  "Yeah, like we'll ever see that."

"You're a horrible, terrible person," spluttered Pendrell. "And not
only that, you're lazy.  You don't even finish your work."

The author's eyes narrowed.  "That was low. Anyway, I don't know what
you're whining about. In my stories, you get *laid*!"

Pendrell pointed a shaking finger at Krycek.  "Yeah...WITH HIM!"

The author shrugged. "That still counts."

"You gave me cancer!"

"You died a hero."

"You are an evil, immoral person."

"I'm an artist!"

"You're a sham!"

Mulder watched the argument between the author and her character with
interest.  "Wow, how exsenstential can you get?" he said to Skinner.

"OK!" cried the author, as she stormed off to the writing chamber. 
"FINE!  You just wait and see what I do!"

All the characters blanched.

"Oh, now you've done it, Pendrell," said Mulder, with terror in his
eyes.  "She's probably going to write us all into an orgy scene with a
pack of Pomeranians now."

Krycek nodded. "Been there..."

"We *know*, Krycek," snarled Skinner.

Pendrell shook his head defiantly.  "I'm not afraid of her.  There's
nothing left for her to do to me.  BRING ON YOUR WORST, YOU WITCH! I
DEFY YOU!" he shrieked.  "BRING ON YOUR..."

Brian Pendrell suddenly vanished.

And forty-eight hours later he re-emerged, flushed and happy-looking,
wearing a familiar leather jacket, chewing a huge wad of bubble gum
and jauntily balancing Krycek's prothesis in one hand, as Mulder and
Skinner stared at him in complete surprise.

"Oh." Pendrell blushed when he saw their stares.  "He said I could
have it.  You know...a memento."

Krycek followed him out, stretched and yawned.  He poked Pendrell in
the back and held out his hand to him.  "Well, so long, LabKid.  I
have to say that you're a helluva lot cleaner than Frohike."

Pendrell shyly shook Krycek's hand.  "Um, well, it was nice knowing
you too, Krycek.  Maybe, uh, sometime you and I can, you know, go out
for a beer or a movie or something."

"What?  You want to go on a *date*?" asked Krycek incredulously,
backing away from a surprised Pendrell.

"Uh, well..."

"Good God!  What kind of PERVERT do you think I am?" he yelled as he
stormed away, out the door to the inner bowels of the Gossamer Asylum. 

"Sheesh!"

******************
Fini.

Author's note:  As you probably know, I LOVE slash.  Everything here
was meant in loving fun.

All comments welcome.
Send to cicilean@yahoo.com