Mechanical
İMMI T h r e a d s

The elevator door rolled closed on floor seven.

A hand brushed over a button labeled B2 and the elevator lurched forward. He could feel the gears turning all around him, working to move, working to keep going.

A pair of blue eyes looked up to a polished door to meet the sharply dressed reflection of Agent John Doggett.

The light flickered 6.

His fingers rubbed the file in his hand anxiously. He was returning to his office in the basement with another case to work. To an agent he never felt was ever there.

The light flickered 5 and the elevator stopped. A young woman, blond, stepped on balancing a coffee mug and a number of file folders.

The door closed and the elevator staggered on.

The light flicked 4 and the woman stepped off.

John watched the door roll closed again, his reflection returning to his view.

He stared at his gray suit, slumped shoulders, and sagging face, but refused to sigh.

Down he went.

The light flickered 3.

He never knew if Agent Scully would ever be there. Some days she called in, some days he hear the news from Assistant Director Skinner. Some days he only guessed.

Some days she would talk to him, some days she wouldn't. Most days he would be met with a ceremonial politeness while the stench of Agent Mulder's memory hung in the air.

The light flashed 2.

Some days he would try to smile at her, most days he thought about it. Some days they would hardly talk at all. Always puttering about, down below in the darkness, under the J. Edgar Hoover building... below everyone else.

The light flashed G and the door opened. A man stepped forward, old, with a lean build. His mouth moved.

"Are you going up?"

John thought he shook his head no.

The door closed again and his reflection returned, this time, slower.

He glared at it. A cold dead shell, a faceless, nameless shell that sometimes wondered what Agent Scully was thinking. What Agent Scully was feeling.

The light flicked B1.

He swallowed his breath, and stared into his own eyes. His own glassy, smooth, inorganic eyes. A distant, metallic buzz could be heard.

Maybe she looked at them sometimes. Sometimes he would look at hers. Sometimes he would look at hers and sigh.

The light hit B2 and the door rolled opened slowly, his reflection with it.

John stood there, for only a moment, staring down the dark corridor lined with bursting file cabinets and other junk. Down towards a desk where no one sat at.

John stepped forward, passed the darkness towards his office in the basement. In the beneath. He stepped towards Agent Mulder's domain.

Someone walked out from the left of him. He turned.

"Good morning, Agent Doggett." Agent Scully greeted with a half-smile. A half-meaning. A half-greeting.

John sighed.

THE END

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