From: pyrephox18@aol.com (Pyrephox18)
Subject: NEW: A Bump in the Night
Date: 29 Mar 1998 00:49:11 GMT

Disclaimer: Skinner isn't mine, and I sincerely doubt that Murphey is either,
sometimes...
Spoilers: Nope, not a one.
Rating: PG, maybe a 13 for language...maybe
Summary: Skinner meets his new neighbor.
Feedback: please send to Pyrephox18@hotmail.com...thank you.

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 from 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.

DC.D/F f++ s-- h++ CJ@R a- $+ d+++ WL++* Fr-- L* BF e++ g-- i! U

People will follow me *anywhere*...unfortunately, it's only out of morbid
curiosity.