"It must have been a surge," Sam said with a shrug the next morning as he poured coffee into his mug. "Weird, but no big deal."

"But the left side of your face is all scratched," Rebecca protested. Her face had paled considerably when Sam came out with red streaks across his cheek, and had gone completely white when he told her why.

"Well it kinda stings, but I'm fine," Sam shook off her concern. The cuts on his face were shallow, some of them even invisible once he had washed the blood away.

"Do...do you want to switch rooms?" she asked him, her eyebrows pushing her forehead into a worried bunch.

"Huh? Why?"

"It sounds like your room might be dangerous."

"It was a one time thing," Sam said, somewhat bewildered by her fear. "And even if it were dangerous, I'm certainly not going to let you stay there instead."

"Yeah, but..." Rebecca trailed off, never finishing her thought. She looked away, frustration clearly written on her face.

ooOOoo

A week later, Sam was sitting at the desk in his bedroom, playing solitaire on his laptop. He knew he needed a hobby, but he couldn't conjure up enough desire or energy to find one. Playing solitaire gave him something to do, though, and it became a kind of hobby by default, one he participated in during the long hours he sat next to his bedroom window. However, he paid more attention to the ground outside his window than he did the computer screen.

He was gazing out of the window, waiting as the game he won finished bouncing around the screen, when suddenly the back of his chair was yanked backwards.

The chair instantly toppled down, pulling Sam with it, slamming him hard against the ground. His head struck the hardwood floor, and pain exploded through his skull. Sam laid there for a long, dazed moment, the wind knocked out of him, trying to figure out what just happened.

He rolled his head backwards, wincing as it throbbed, to see who had pulled his chair. But his room was empty, the door still closed. "What the hell?" he muttered, pushing himself up from the floor. He straightened up painfully, grimacing as he felt new bruises protest against the movement.

Sam found Rebecca in her bedroom, flipping through a magazine. She looked up curiously at his entrance. "Did someone just come into my room?" he asked her.

"No, I've been in here, and Zach's out," she replied. "Why?"

"I could've sworn..." he mumbled, shaking his head slowly. "Alright, thanks."

"What happened?" she asked, stopping him before he could leave.

Sam flushed. "I-I fell over in my chair," he told her, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. She cocked her head, a crease in between her eyebrows, and Sam was forced to explain. "I just thought...It kinda felt like someone pulled it backwards."

Rebecca jumped to her feet. "Really? Are you sure?" she pressed, her eyes going wide.

Sam took an awkward step backwards. "Um, no, I just imagined it. It's nothing. No one could have snuck in there and out," he rushed to assure her when she didn't look convinced. "I can check the apartment though, if you're scared..."

"No, no, it's not that," she replied. "I just..." She hesitated and bit her lip. "Maybe it was a ghost or something."

Sam gaped at her. "A ghost?" he echoed with a low snort. "Oh come on, that's—" He cut himself off when he saw the look on her face. He sighed, feeling that he had insulted her. "Even if ghosts existed, this is a brand new building," he reasoned with her more gently.

"I know, but—" She drew in a deep breath. "It just seems like something might be going on. I mean, that's the second weird thing to happen in a week."

"Well, even if it is a ghost, I think I can put up with it," Sam replied with an easy smirk. She nodded, although she still looked uncertain. "I'll let you know if anything else happens, okay?" he reassured her.

"You promise?" Rebecca asked earnestly.

"Yeah, sure," Sam replied as he stepped out of her room.

He made his way back to his bedroom, wondering how long Rebecca had believed in ghost stories.

ooOOoo

Sam had made a promise, and he would never break it. He just never thought he'd have to act on that promise.

But three days later when Sam was walking towards his closet, something grabbed his foot and pulled it out from underneath him. In the next instant Sam's backside was slamming against the floor, and his mind was racing.

This time, he knew there was no one in his room. And he knew he didn't just lose his balance.

Sam felt his heart beating in rapid rhythm. The logical part of his mind refused to work, and the illogical part told him maybe Rebecca had a point. He could think of no other explanation.

"Um..." he said hesitantly, coming back out of his room. He had just bade Rebecca and Zach goodnight, and they looked up with curiosity as he came back into the living room. "Hey, Rebecca...Remember our little chat from the other day?"

Rebecca thought for a moment before realization came over her face. "What happened?" she demanded instantly, getting to her feet.

"Something, um, grabbed my leg. Made me fall."

Her eyes widened. "Oh, man..." she whispered. "I was hoping it wasn't..." She shot a glance over her shoulder at her brother.

"So, what, you still think it's a ghost?" Sam asked her.

"Yeah. Or something. I don't know, I'm not the expert."

Her wording gave him pause. "Who is?" he asked her, confused. She ignored him.

"Becky..." Zach started. "What's going on?"

Rebecca looked between him and Sam. "I-I don't know. Let me think about it."

ooOOoo

After a few days, Sam wasn't sure if she was stilling thinking or had forgotten about it – whatever "it" was. In any case, she said nothing to him, and nothing else really happened - after all, it was probably just vibrations from a large truck that knockedthe alarm clock off his stand midweek.vSoon, Sam was doubting anything strange had actually happened to begin with, and he quickly forgot about it.

That Friday, Rebecca cornered him and Zach and told them they were coming with her and a couple of friends for some drinks. "We haven't gone out since graduation," she complained. Zach agreed right away, and she ignored Sam when he tried to decline.

As it turned out, only the three of them and Matilda ended up at their usual bar. It was a subdued gathering, filled with casual conversation and long stretches in which they sat back and listened to the music.

Rebecca had arranged the get-together, but she was the most quiet out of the four, talking even less than Sam. Normally she had an easy laugh, but that night she missed almost half of the jokes. When she did catch one, she laughed a little too hard and a little too long.

Sam wasn't the only one to notice that Rebecca was distracted. "Is something wrong?" Matilda asked her after an hour. "You seem off."

"Oh! No," she said, breaking into a sheepish smile. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked, sharing a look with Matilda.

"Yes, of course. But, you know, actually...I think I'm going to go home," she confessed.

Sam frowned, worried that she was acting so unlike herself. "But why? It's still early," Matilda protested.

Rebecca ducked her head, a wry grin spreading across her face. "I know. It's really silly," she started to explain with a embarrassed laugh. "I forgot to set TiVo to record Leno tonight."

Zach groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh, Lord, who's on?"

Rebecca grinned widely. "Wentworth Miller," she announced, wagging her eyebrows.

Zach and Sam exchanged knowing, half-exasperated glances. "Aw, you're leaving me for a bald guy?" Matilda whined.

"Yes," Rebecca said simply. "I am. And he's not bald."

At that, Matilda twisted her face into an exaggerated pout. "Ah, c'mon Becky, stay. He'll be on again."

But Rebecca obstinately shook her head. "Sorry, but nope. I'm just running home to set it, though. I'll be right back." Matilda reluctantly accepted her answer.

"Girls," Zach muttered, taking a swig from his beer. He liked to tease Rebecca about her celebrity crushes with an ease that came from decades of practice. Sam had always been a little jealous of their banter.

Rebecca gave Zach her best mock glare – probably another decade-long custom – before she turned to Sam. "Will you walk me back?" she asked, lifting her shoulders sheepishly.

"Sure, of course," Sam replied, unsurprised by her request. He would have offered if she hadn't asked. She grinned with relief and started to stand. "Actually," Sam said, stopping her with a hand. "I'll just go. I can set it for you."

She immediately started to protest. "Oh, no, Sam, you don't need-"

"There's no reason for the both of us to go," he said, cutting her off.

"Yeah, but it's my show," she pointed out. "You shouldn't have to do that."

"It's no problem," he assured her smoothly, smiling to let her know he was sincere. And he was sincere – in fact, he was already looking forward to a break from the constant noise and thick air of the bar. Rebecca still looked uncertain, however, as she thought it over. "Leno, right?" he went on quickly, before her guilt could overcome her.

She nodded, finally relenting. "Thanks, Sam." He smiled at her and turned to go, but before he could leave, she grabbed his arm.

Her eyes searched his. "Call me if you need to. Okay?"

Matilda snorted loudly. "You're obsessed." Without looking, Rebecca slapped her on the arm.

Sam chuckled. "I know how to work TiVo," he said. "I don't think there'll be any problem."

"I know," she replied, sounding uncertain. "But still."

"If I need anything, I'll call," Sam assured her, before nodding at the three of them in goodbye. "See you in a few," he said as he turned around.

"You're really going to let him go?" he heard Zach ask as he walked away.

"I offered to go with him," Rebecca defended herself. She went on to say more, but by then, Sam was out of earshot.

Their apartment stood only a few blocks from the bar, and Sam made it there in quick time without the slightest mishap. The air was warm but light, and the people he passed along the way seemed to be in good spirits. Sam found his mood lifting with them.

As he walked, helet himselfwonder about Rebecca's strange mood. He highly doubted she was worrying over a Leno guest, and he couldn't help but suspect she was hiding something from them. But her desire to see Wentworth Miller certainly fit with what he knew of her, so even if that wasn't what was bothering her, he saw no reason to turn her down. He would ask her about her mood later, when they were home together.

Once he reached the apartment, it didn't take him long to set the TV for Rebecca. After it was set, he tossed the remote back onto the couch and was turning to leave when the hallway caught his eye.

His bedroom door was shut, but a shaft of light shone from underneath it.

Sam instantly froze, his heart jumping into his throat. He knew he hadn't left his light on. In fact, he specifically remembered almost forgetting his wallet and feeling for it in the dark.

Sam thought about calling the cops, but his pride wouldn't let him until he checked it out himself. Adrenaline making his heart pound, he quietly grabbed a steak knife from the kitchen and made sure his cell phone was within easy reach inside his pocket.

He tiptoed to his room, pausing at the door to gather his nerves. He drew himself up against the wall, and then with a sudden burst, threw open the door and rushed inside, brandishing his knife.

He was unprepared for the sight that greeted him. His bedside lamp lay on the floor, broken into a dozen pieces. Along the opposite wall, a short, three-shelf bookcase had toppled onto its front. Some of its contents had spilled out around it, but other books had ended up in a haphazard pattern all across the room, somehow reaching to all four corners, almost as if they were thrown one by one.

And in the middle of the mess, a man with sandy brown hair lay on his back, his usually penetrating eyes now closed and a bloody gash torn across his forehead.

Finally, eh?

LOL, there were so many directions I wanted to go with this thing - I hope you won't be disappointed!

In any case, please review!