Fringe/The X-Files - Legacy
Title: Legacy
Fandom: Fringe/The X-Files
Rating: PG
Characters: Peter Bishop, OC, mentions of Mulder
Word Count: 796
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: One day, Peter Bishop got lost in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building.
Disclaimer: I don't own either Fringe or The X-Files. This work is for entertainment purposes only.
Note: Written for the Big Bang Challenge at scifiland
In the early days of working for Fringe Division, Peter liked to test his new security clearance and see what kinds of places it might let him in to. The answer was pretty much anywhere he chose, which was how one Saturday morning he found himself lost in the bowels of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building.
They were in town for some kind of budget meeting that Broyles insisted they attend, but nothing was going on over the weekend. Astrid was at the hotel, babysitting Walter, and Olivia had left to spend the day with her sister and niece. She'd given everyone strict instructions not to call her unless the world was ending. So Peter had found himself bored, with nothing to do. Walter had invited him to watch the usual lineup of morning cartoons with him, but Peter had declined.
Of course, wandering around lost in the J. Edgar Hoover building wasn't exactly Peter's idea of a good time, either.
He turned a corner and found himself in yet another identical corridor. He was just about to give up and call someone to come and rescue him when he glanced inside an open door.
It was an office. Surprised, Peter pocketed his phone and pushed the door open a little more. He'd thought it was just an endless number of supply closets and ancient filing cabinets down there. The office wasn't much to look at: the walls were bare, the carpet was stained and frayed in several places, and the only pieces of furniture were a standard-issue desk containing exactly two pencils and one desk lamp, a rickety office chair, and a battered filing cabinet. There was a nameplate on the desk that read "Vicki Downs." Peter picked it up.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Peter whirled around, still holding the nameplate. A young woman in a pantsuit regarded him stonily from the door. She was carrying a box of files nearly as big as she was.
"Oh. Hey, need any help with that?" Peter stepped toward her.
"No," said the woman. She shifted the box to one arm and plucked the nameplate out of Peter's hands. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you in my office?"
"You must be Vicki," said Peter, putting on his most charming smile.
"Special Agent Downs," she corrected. "And you are?"
"Peter Bishop." He held out his hand. "I work with Fringe Division."
"Never heard of it," she said, putting the box down. "Do you need something?"
"No," said Peter. He forced a laugh. "To tell you the truth, I just got a little lost. So this is your office, huh? I didn't know there were offices down here."
"Yeah." Downs regarded the room with a frown. "It's not the most ideal location, but they're a little tight for space upstairs. I just graduated from the academy," she explained.
"Right," said Peter. "Bottom of the totem pole."
"Something like that," she said. "So really, what are you doing here?"
"I told you the truth," said Peter, holding his hands up. "I got lost. Is this really the kind of furniture they're issuing new agents these days?"
"This stuff was here when I got here.The first thing I'm going to do is requisition a new filing cabinet, at least." She leaned against the desk. "It must have belonged to the last agent who worked down here. There are whole stories about him they tell at the academy. Fox Mulder. You ever heard of him?"
Peter shook his head.
"Yeah," Downs continued, pulling files out of her box. "They say he was nuts. Some kind of freak who spent his time searching for UFOs and ghosts and monsters."
"Really." Peter had only worked for Fringe Division for a short time, but he had seen enough to wonder if he should hunt this Mulder guy down and buy him a drink. "So where is he now?"
"He got fired years back," she replied. "I don't think anyone's heard from him in nearly a decade." She snorted. "Maybe the little gray aliens got him."
"Maybe," said Peter.
"Anyway, I'm kind of busy here, so is there actually something you want? Something about this Fringe Division?"
"No," said Peter. "I was just on my way out." He started toward the door, then stopped. "Could you, ah, tell me the way back to the front entrance?"
"Take the elevator down the hall straight up," she said, looking amused. "You really got lost down here?"
"Hey," said Peter, pointing at her. "See you around, maybe." He walked out the door and found the elevator, leaving the forgotten little office behind. He kind of wanted to stay and talk more with the young agent, but it was time for him to relieve Astrid anyway.
Fandom: Fringe/The X-Files
Rating: PG
Characters: Peter Bishop, OC, mentions of Mulder
Word Count: 796
Spoilers/Warnings: None
Summary: One day, Peter Bishop got lost in the basement of the J. Edgar Hoover building.
Disclaimer: I don't own either Fringe or The X-Files. This work is for entertainment purposes only.
Note: Written for the Big Bang Challenge at scifiland
In the early days of working for Fringe Division, Peter liked to test his new security clearance and see what kinds of places it might let him in to. The answer was pretty much anywhere he chose, which was how one Saturday morning he found himself lost in the bowels of the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building.
They were in town for some kind of budget meeting that Broyles insisted they attend, but nothing was going on over the weekend. Astrid was at the hotel, babysitting Walter, and Olivia had left to spend the day with her sister and niece. She'd given everyone strict instructions not to call her unless the world was ending. So Peter had found himself bored, with nothing to do. Walter had invited him to watch the usual lineup of morning cartoons with him, but Peter had declined.
Of course, wandering around lost in the J. Edgar Hoover building wasn't exactly Peter's idea of a good time, either.
He turned a corner and found himself in yet another identical corridor. He was just about to give up and call someone to come and rescue him when he glanced inside an open door.
It was an office. Surprised, Peter pocketed his phone and pushed the door open a little more. He'd thought it was just an endless number of supply closets and ancient filing cabinets down there. The office wasn't much to look at: the walls were bare, the carpet was stained and frayed in several places, and the only pieces of furniture were a standard-issue desk containing exactly two pencils and one desk lamp, a rickety office chair, and a battered filing cabinet. There was a nameplate on the desk that read "Vicki Downs." Peter picked it up.
"What do you think you're doing?"
Peter whirled around, still holding the nameplate. A young woman in a pantsuit regarded him stonily from the door. She was carrying a box of files nearly as big as she was.
"Oh. Hey, need any help with that?" Peter stepped toward her.
"No," said the woman. She shifted the box to one arm and plucked the nameplate out of Peter's hands. "You didn't answer my question. Why are you in my office?"
"You must be Vicki," said Peter, putting on his most charming smile.
"Special Agent Downs," she corrected. "And you are?"
"Peter Bishop." He held out his hand. "I work with Fringe Division."
"Never heard of it," she said, putting the box down. "Do you need something?"
"No," said Peter. He forced a laugh. "To tell you the truth, I just got a little lost. So this is your office, huh? I didn't know there were offices down here."
"Yeah." Downs regarded the room with a frown. "It's not the most ideal location, but they're a little tight for space upstairs. I just graduated from the academy," she explained.
"Right," said Peter. "Bottom of the totem pole."
"Something like that," she said. "So really, what are you doing here?"
"I told you the truth," said Peter, holding his hands up. "I got lost. Is this really the kind of furniture they're issuing new agents these days?"
"This stuff was here when I got here.The first thing I'm going to do is requisition a new filing cabinet, at least." She leaned against the desk. "It must have belonged to the last agent who worked down here. There are whole stories about him they tell at the academy. Fox Mulder. You ever heard of him?"
Peter shook his head.
"Yeah," Downs continued, pulling files out of her box. "They say he was nuts. Some kind of freak who spent his time searching for UFOs and ghosts and monsters."
"Really." Peter had only worked for Fringe Division for a short time, but he had seen enough to wonder if he should hunt this Mulder guy down and buy him a drink. "So where is he now?"
"He got fired years back," she replied. "I don't think anyone's heard from him in nearly a decade." She snorted. "Maybe the little gray aliens got him."
"Maybe," said Peter.
"Anyway, I'm kind of busy here, so is there actually something you want? Something about this Fringe Division?"
"No," said Peter. "I was just on my way out." He started toward the door, then stopped. "Could you, ah, tell me the way back to the front entrance?"
"Take the elevator down the hall straight up," she said, looking amused. "You really got lost down here?"
"Hey," said Peter, pointing at her. "See you around, maybe." He walked out the door and found the elevator, leaving the forgotten little office behind. He kind of wanted to stay and talk more with the young agent, but it was time for him to relieve Astrid anyway.