As Luck Would Have It
�Skinner? *Walter* Skinner?� Serendipity Murphey looked at her new partner with disbelief. �Tall guy, bald, fabulous abs, and no sense of humor?� At Mueller�s mystified nod, she sank into her brand new chair, in her brand new office and groaned miserably. �Well, that�s it. My career is utterly and totally over.� She slumped forward and began rhythmically beating her head against the psuedowood top of her desk. Special Agent Mueller felt his heart sink.
�What did you do to Assistant Director Skinner?� A pause. �And *how* do you know what his abs look like?!� Murphey looked up, a slight blush bringing a hint of color to her pale skin. Helplessly she muttered,
�It wasn�t my fault, or not mostly anyway.� Mueller stopped a groan of his own. Even in the short time he�d known his partner, he�d figured out that it was *never* her fault. And it never was. Things just happened to her...and everyone in her vicinity. �After all, � she continued, �I didn�t *mean* to break his glasses, in fact, I didn�t actually break them. The boxes did, then I was trying to help, and we fell, and he just jumped to the conclusion that I broke them.�
�Boxes?� Murphey�s flush deepened.
�Long story, and I�d really rather not talk about it. You know, it�s funny, I told him I was with the Bureau, but he never said a word.� Mueller smiled in spite of himself. From his brief acquaintance with Serendipity Murphey he guessed she probably hadn�t given Skinner a chance. She tended to gather people up, whirl them in erratic patterns, then disappear, leaving them gasping in her wake. Luckily for his sanity, she was also dedicated, intelligent, and a damn fine agent. Besides, she provided him with plenty of tales to tell his buddies at the bar. He hadn�t had to buy his own drinks in a week. He looked down to find Murphey scowling at him.
�I�m glad you consider the potential destruction of my career funny.� He quirked a dark blond eyebrow.
�Sorry Murphey, it�s just the thought of you getting one over on Skinner. If it makes you feel any better, he may be a hardass but I�ve never heard of him using his office to avenge personal grudges. Not even Colton would accuse him of being petty. At least, not recently.� No, she considered, Skinner hadn�t struck her as petty either. She really was overreacting, she supposed. After all, Skinner was the head of Violent Crimes, and Murphey was strictly Behavioral Science. She hadn�t laid eyes on the man in a week, which probably meant that with a little planning, she wouldn�t run into him at all. She sighed in relief. Mueller relaxed, seeing her mood pass as she flashed him a sunny smile, her dark gray eyes lightening to the color of polished silver. Seeing the tension ease out of his shoulders, Murphey announced, �Crisis averted, we now return you to your regular programming of serial killers, rapists, and deviants. Have a nice day. So, what about the Wilikins case? Have the local Agents made any progress, because quite frankly, I�m stumped.� With that, the talk turned back to work, and the subject of the A.D. was quickly forgotten.
As the last appointment before lunch left his office, Walter Skinner stretched his back, cramped from sitting in the desk for nearly four straight hours. His regular secretary, Kimberly, had been called out west for her aunt�s wedding, and the temp had overbooked his schedule. He hadn�t even had time for a bathroom break in two hours. Skinner sighed, taking his spare pair of glasses off, and rubbing a weary hand across his furrowed brow. He slipped the wire-rims back on, and looked down reluctantly. The desk was still piled with almost two dozen manila folders, all reports he hadn�t had a chance to look over, thanks to the back-to-back meetings. He�d have to do them over lunch. Probably over dinner as well, he acknowledged ruefully. It�s not like he had anything better to do, anyway. He pressed the intercom button. �Miss....?� What *was* her name again?
�Jeffries, and it�s Mrs. What can I do for you, sir?� He grimaced. He�d snapped at her earlier, and now she sounded like his Drill Sergeant from the Service. He considered trying to soothe her ruffled feathers, then decided it wasn�t worth it. Kimberly would be back tomorrow, thank God.
�Sorry. Mrs. Jeffries, you can go to lunch.� As he released his finger from the button, he could swear he heard the woman mutter �It�s about time.� Dismissing Mrs. Whatshername from his mind, he sorted through the folders, and chose six of the most urgent. He�d look over them at that cafe down the street. It ought to be reasonably quiet at this time of day. He picked up the neatly organized files, and began thumbing absently through one as he walked.
Murphey desperately juggled the stack of files and reports as she stumbled her way down the hall. Being the newest agent on staff, and definitely the lowest rung on the totem pole, she had somehow gotten stuck with the job of ferrying the acquisition forms and other errata to the Accounting offices. Unfortunately, she�d lost a crucial paper-clip or staple somewhere, and stray papers kept trying to make their escape from the bottom and sides of her burden. Trying to replace them in vaguely the same places, and keep a grip on the rest of the stuff was becoming an increasingly impossible task. She picked up the pace as she rounded the corner, checking the papers for rebellion and praying to get to her destination without incident.
Skinner saw her coming, but not in time to do anything about it. Murphey, on the other hand, had her head lowered, and consequently plowed into the A.D. at full speed ahead. They came together in an explosion of manila and white. �Oof!� Skinner felt the wind leave his chest in a rush, stepped back, and slid on a file. Murphey was knocked off balance by the impact, and clutched at the starched whiteness of Skinner�s shirt. The added weight was enough to overbalance him, and they fell to the floor together, landing with a muffled *whump*. His head hit the paper-strewn tile, and he closed his eyes briefly against the pain. In a moment, the stars cleared from his vision, and he found himself, once again, looking into the eyes of Serendipity Murphey. Skinner snapped, �God sent you to punish me, didn�t He?�
Serendipity looked down at the one face she�d quite sincerely hoped not to see any time soon. She was still clutching his shirt with a death grip, and noticed that his hands were on her shoulders, holding her off of him. Realizing were the rest of her body was, she hurriedly scrambled up, her face beet red. As she stood, her foot, sensibly clad in a low-heeled, dove-gray shoe , came down on a bulge under a few of the scattered papers. There was a brittle crack. Skinner�s eyes widened in disbelief, and his horrified gaze traveled, along with hers, down to her feet. She lifted her foot, as he dug under the papers. The shattered glass from one of the wire-rims' lenses winked merrily in the light. �Agent, I assume it *is* Agent?� She nodded meekly, and he continued, �Agent Murphey, do you harbor some deep-seated hatred for eyeware? Or is it just mine that you feel the need to destroy?� Murphey gulped.
�I didn�t. I mean, I didn�t try to. Sir.� She added hastily. The honorific didn�t appear to mollify him. He stood slowly. She started to offer her help, but the glare from his dark brown eyes stopped the instinctive movement. Standing, he towered over her, every inch a dangerous predator in the dark business suit. As she stood frozen, he growled, �Would you mind getting the Hell off the Gordon folder?� She practically leapt to the side, and he bent to pick up the folder. It was empty, its contents scattered among the chaos around them. They surveyed the morass of paper with identical expressions of dismay.
�You have *got* to be kidding me.� Murphey said softly. Skinner shot her an irritated look. She stared back. �Look at it this way, sir. We�re both in the same boat, so to speak. Well, except for your glasses, and I�m *really* sorry about that. Really, really sorry. Send the bill to my address, you know where I live, right?� The feeble attempt at a joke failed miserably. He growled something she didn�t catch, and probably didn�t want to.
Skinner bent, scooping the papers in to a large pile. Serendipity followed suit silently, noticing almost against her will the fluid muscles under the tailored jacket. She remembered the warm feel of his body against hers, and her flush came back in full force. Damn it, Murphey, the man�s about three seconds from strangling you, and all you can think of is his body? She *really* needed a date, she decided. With effort, she wrenched her wayward mind back to the task at hand. �Sir?� He glanced at her reluctantly. �Where are we taking the papers?� Skinner blinked. He hadn�t given it much thought, being too busy trying to get them out of this very public hallway, and the feel of her body out of his mind. He sighed with resignation. Good-bye peaceful lunch.
�There�s a cafe down the street. It�s nearly deserted this time of day, we can go through them there.� It was Murphey�s turn to blink.
�What about the cafeteria? It�s less...� Private, her mind supplied gleefully. His voice was amused as he replied,
�It may be, but unless you want most of the Bureau to have us in bed together by five, we�re going to the cafe. Out the side exit.�
�Oh. All right.� He smiled grimly, and hefted his stack of papers. She stood a heartbeat behind him, with her own load. He strode off, Murphey following behind.
The �lunch� was spent in near silence, and involved very little eating. Now that the original shock was over, Murphey found herself a bit miffed at the way the A.D. had handled the situation. She could understand that he was upset, but did he have to keep glaring at her like she was the source of all evil? Would it be that hard just to forgive and forget? A nudge of fairness rose its head and reminded her that Skinner had every right to feel �miffed�. Every time she saw the man, he ended up on the floor. Not that that was a *bad* thing, necessarily...
Skinner saw his companion�s lips quirk in a small, secret smile. Despite himself, he felt a trickle of relief. He�d begun to wonder if he�d terrified her permanently. He was tempted to ask what the joke was, but it was probably at his expense. He scanned the file he was holding, and placed it one of his files. He reached for another absently, glancing up when his hand encountered only tabletop. He looked at Murphey, and found her staring at him, that half-smile still hovering around her mouth. Skinner frowned, and the smile vanished immediately. �Well,� he said, �That�s the last of them.�
�Yes, sir.� She gathered up her stacks silently. Now what, Serendipity wondered. It seemed rather rude to just leave him there, but somehow she didn�t think he would make it easier by formally dismissing her. Skinner flipped open the file on the top of the stack, and began reading silently. Then again..., she stared at him, slightly irritated by his indifference. He could at least insult her, she could handle that better than becoming a non-person. After a moment of being ignored, she scooped up her papers and walked out of the cafe, her strides quick and angry. Skinner watched her leave, a considering look in his dark eyes.
The End, Again.
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