A Bump in the Night
The crash resounded through Walter Skinner�s head, bringing him out of a deep, dreamless sleep into instant, if reluctant, awareness. He swung himself out of bed, just as another series of crashes shook the air, this time in a decidedly crystalline key. Through the wall of his bedroom, he could hear muffled curses. A disbelieving look at the clock confirmed what was rapidly going from a stress-born nightmare into a sickening certainty. The apartment on the other side of his wall had been empty, since the previous tenants had moved out shortly after the Krycek incident. He had considered himself lucky not have been asked to leave with them. Until now, that is. There was either a very inept cat burglar setting up shop next door, or someone was moving in...at three in the morning.
Something large impacted his bedroom wall, and the voice rose into perfect clarity for a moment. �Bloody Hell! You stupid...�, the ranting faded away to bad-tempered muttering once again. Walter�s eyebrows rose in surprise as he realized that his new neighbor was evidently female, that or a truly gifted soprano. Another series of bangs, almost like a piano falling down a flight of stairs, shook him out of the horrified fascination with which he�d been contemplating his wall. He swept the thin wire-rim glasses off of the bedside table, and put them on. His face had slipped into a scowl that had been known to send armed FBI agents scurrying for cover. Whoever this woman was, he�d be damned if he was going to lose sleep because she didn�t have the common sense to move in at a reasonable hour. He had plenty of better reasons for insomnia, thank you very much. He moved through his darkened apartment with the furious grace of a jungle cat, yanking open the door and slamming it loudly behind him. His neighbor across the wall, an accountant whose name Walter never could remember, gave him a quick thumbs up before disappearing behind the safety of his own door as a startled yelp and a ominous thump issued from the newcomer�s partly opened door.
Walter growled a curse of his own underneath his breath. Who in their right mind...? He pushed open the door and challenged in his best �I am Authority� voice, �What in the Hell do you think...�
�Look out! Grab those pots!� Walter had a split second to view the improbable tower of boxes, the top one overflowing with various kitchenware, that had been shoved precariously behind the door, before the whole collection tumbled down on his head. The apartment door banged shut under the pressure of the avalanche, or tried to, except that his unshod foot was rather inconveniently in the way. He hit the carpeted floor of the apartment, the boxes hit him, and the door hit his foot nearly simultaneously; effectively robbing him of his speech, breath, and consciousness, in that order.
�Oh God, I�ve killed him.� Serendipity Murphey gasped, her horrified eyes resting on the half buried form of the man who�d burst into her apartment. Granted, it was an accident, and he really should have knocked first, but still...she rather doubted the police would see it that way. She crept closer, and sighed in relief as she detected a slight rise in his muscled chest. That, of course, drew her attention to the fact that the man was only wearing a pair of faded boxers. �Well, really!� She said quietly, �Who goes outside dressed like that at three in the morning? *Especially* if they�re going to be bursting unannounced into women�s apartments!� Then again, she thought guiltily, he was probably coming to complain about the noise. Maybe if she got the boxes off of him, he�d be less inclined to sue her. She remembered the fierce expression on his face, in the moment *before* he�d been ambushed by her belongings. Then again, he�d probably have her arrested for assault, disturbing the piece, and *then* he�d sue her.
She hefted the boxes off of the intruder�s prone form, tossing them carelessly into a semi-empty corner. Serendipity winced, seeing clearly the places where a box�s sharp corner, or the blunt metal edge of an errant pan would leave colorful reminders on the lightly tanned skin. Not to mention the shattered remains of an expensive pair of glasses. When he awoke, whoever 'he' was, he was going to be furious with her. Not that this was an uncommon occurrence. There was, after all, a very good reason most people called her only by her *last* name. She half-suspected her first to be some desperate attempt at Karmic balance on the part of her parents. If so, it had yet to kick in. If there was bad luck within five city blocks, she was guaranteed to run into it headfirst. Take this moving fiasco. It had *not* been her idea, but the movers arrived a day early, and threatened to simply dump her stuff in the middle of the road if she didn�t take charge of it. At this moment, she was paying for a wonderfully comfortable room at the Watergate that it was unlikely she would see before dawn.
A sound from her �victim� brought her attention back to the present. She cleared her throat nervously, then asked, �Ummm, are you all right? I have some Tylenol...somewhere...I think.� He blinked and growled something uncomplimentary, shifted, and groaned in pain.
Walter gingerly opened his eyes. He half expected to see the harsh fluorescence of hospital lights flickering above him. Instead he saw the concerned face of his �neighbor�. His entire body felt like...well, like he�d just been hit with a half-dozen full moving boxes. Add a few iron pots for garnish.
�Here, let me help you.� Without waiting for an answer she took his wrists and attempted to haul him to his feet. Which was fine, until they got to his right foot. A dazzling flash of white-hot pain raced up his leg, and he jerked away to the left. Serendipity jerked back to right reflexively, and in a jumbled moment both hit the floor with an embarrassing thump. �Ow.� , she exclaimed softly. Walter glared, tempted to wrap his hands around her throat, but it would probably hurt too much.
�Perhaps, � he remarked with an icy calm that the Agents under his command knew forewarned of dire consequences for it�s target, �we should introduce ourselves. *Before* you succeed in putting me in the hospital, preferably.�
He noticed something missing, and scanned the dark brown carpet for his glasses. He spotted their remains under one of her legs. Walter shot his tormenter an exasperated glance. Serendipity blinked, her gray eyes darkening with the first signs of her own volatile temper.
�I was *trying* to help! I most certainly didn�t ask you to burst in my apartment at this hour!� Walter levered himself off the floor carefully, snatching what was left of his wire-rims and avoiding her sprawled limbs with exaggerated care. Holding on to his control with the last drops of patience in his soul, he replied,
�And I am quite sure that *I* never asked *you* to ruin what was going to be the first full night�s sleep I have had in nearly two weeks.� Finding himself back at his original point, he rasped, �What the *Hell* were you thinking anyway?� Serendipity blushed, realizing that if even if he was in the mood to hear explanations, she probably couldn�t think up a good, true one without looking an even bigger fool. She ran a hand through her boyishly short brown hair, and decided that confusion was the better part of valor. She leapt to her feet, smiled and said,
�Serendipity Murphey, pleased to meet you. Everyone calls me Murphey, for the obvious reasons.� Walter looked blankly at her, then followed the apparent derailment of her train of thought.
�Walter Skinner.� He extended the hand he wasn�t using to support himself. They shook, and Serendipity offered,
�Need any help standing? I could probably find a crutch, I know I packed one. Or, I think I did, maybe.� Walter shook his head, and slowly pulled himself to his feet, careful not to bump his tender foot. He noticed with satisfaction that she was looking repentant, if not downright guilty. He may get some sleep yet.
�Thank you, but no. All I want is a few hours of peace, so that I and the other tenants can get some sleep before dawn. Is that possible, do you suppose?� Serendipity shifted uneasily. It was true she hadn�t really been thinking of the others, she�d been so angry at the prospect of getting no sleep herself. Besides, she�d nearly hospitalized the poor man, the least she could do is lay low for a few hours.
�No problem. I�ve got my first day at a new job in a few hours anyway, I really should go to bed, well, such as it is.�
Walter sighed, relieved. Silently, he pitied the employer who�d hired *her*. As he hobbled to the door, he asked idly, �Really? Where, if I might ask?� As the door closed, Serendipity replied cheerfully,
�The FBI, I just got transferred to Washington from the L.A. field office, and I think it�s going to be interesting. Good night, or morning, whatever."
�Wait!� *click*
The End.
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