By ML
msnsc21@yahoo.com
 

feedback: better than candy!
rating: MSR, adult situations and conversations

Synopsis:  Things are not always as they seem.  But
sometimes they are.

Disclaimer (to the tune of "You Don't Own Me"):  I don't
own them, I'm just borrowing for a while.  Please don't
blame me, I just wanted to make you smile.

=====

Time is Fleeting
by ML

South Lake Tahoe, California

She might have known Mulder would go AWOL as soon as her
back was turned.

Fortunately, he'd only stepped into the shop next to the
Starbuck's.  She hadn't seen him go in, but the vintage
Bela Lugosi and Boris Karloff posters in the window were
Mulder magnets for sure.

Truth to tell, they drew her in, too.  She loved old horror
films.  She pushed at the shop door with her elbow, juggling
the two coffees.

Instead of a jingling bell, screams announced her entrance.
She shouldered the door shut, weaving her way through the
fake spider webs (with fake spiders, she hoped), a light
string of little plastic skulls, and a fake coffin filled
with a display of horror films.

Halloween was just around the corner, but it didn't seem
like it on this sunny, mild October day.  Scully peered out
the shop window to the tall pine trees across the road and
the lake glinting in the distance.  She sighed.  It would
have been nice to spend some time here when not on a case.
Instead of being out in the crisp mountain air, or better
yet, cruising across the lake, they'd spent most the week
holed up in a "honeymoon cottage," spying on a would-be film
director.

Mulder turned and smiled at her.  "Hey Scully, Luke here
says that there's been a lot of ghostly manifestations around
the lake."  He stepped closer to her and lowered his voice.
"Maybe enough to scare up another case while we're here, huh?"

Scully handed him his coffee and raised her eyebrows.  "I'll
say this for you, Mulder.  You're not a quitter."

"I wouldn't let a little thing like getting locked in a
basement overnight faze me."

"Evidently not," Scully replied.  "Even being locked in the
basement *naked* hasn't done it, and I'd say if anything
could, that would do the trick."

"Yeah, and it was *cold* down there.  At least he could have
left me a blanket."

"Being duct-taped to a headboard wasn't any picnic, either,"
she pointed out.  "Lucky for us our would-be kidnapper
wasn't very good at improvising."

"At least you could get loose," he said.  "No humiliating
rescue for you.  And I notice that you didn't bring me a
warm blanket, either."

Luke looked bemused at this whispered exchange.  He could
only hear a few words, but the words were "naked" and
"duct tape" which made him shudder.

Scully could see Mulder's enthusiasm waning for a new case
as he remembered the circumstances of the one they'd just
closed.  "Never mind, Mulder.  I didn't mean to bring up
a sore subject.  I just meant to say that it would be nice
to have a reason to stay here without it having to be
official business."

"Well, why not?"  he asked.  "Do we really need to head
back right away?  I know for a fact that we both have
plenty of personal time available."

"What are you suggesting, Mulder?"

"What do you think I'm suggesting?  Let's play hooky."

"No ghost hunting?  No investigation of supernatural
phenomena?  And especially, no cold basements?"

Mulder rolled his eyes and sighed, as if making a huge
concession.  "If you insist."  He leaned in and whispered
in her ear.  "But I wouldn't rule out naked."

Scully blushed but smiled.  Luke looked envious.

x-x-x-x

Scully put Mulder in charge of finding them accommodations
while she assembled a picnic lunch.  She thought fleetingly
that it might have been better the other way around, but she
trusted Mulder to do the right thing for them.

It did feel a little like playing hooky.  It wasn't very
often that a case took them to a spot like Lake Tahoe and
it seemed wrong not to take advantage of it.  Away from the
prying eyes of the Bureau and what was left of the Consortium,
they could finally have some of the privacy that they craved.

Chores done, they walked hand in hand down to the lakeshore.
As beautiful as it was, October was the slow season for the
area -- in between summer and skiing.

"What'd you get us?" Mulder asked as they chose a picnic
table in the sun.

"Wait and see," she said.  She opened the bag from the deli
and spread napkins over the weathered surface of the table.
Out came several small packages wrapped in white butcher paper
and two iced teas.  She handed them to Mulder one by one and
took out a small cutting board, two apples, and bread.

"'A loaf of bread, a jug of iced tea, and thou,'" Mulder
misquoted happily.  He unwrapped the packages of meat and
cheese.

They ate, enjoying the mild sunshine and the smell of warm
pine needles.

"I hear there's been some early snow back East," Mulder
commented.  "Hard to believe, isn't it?  Right now I'd say
the temperature here is in the mid-70s.  It's great, isn't it?"

"As long as you keep your back to the casinos," Scully
remarked.

"Can't have everything, I guess."  He sipped his iced tea.
"But much better than being locked in a basement."

"I'll say.  Even if, on the surface of it, it seemed like
the perfect case for you:  investigating a would-be porn
director, and almost getting to star in one of his movies --"

"Without any of the porn-star type benefits," he pointed out.

"Can't have everything, I guess," she replied.

"I'm not complaining.  Not at all," he said, and put his hand
over hers.  "If I knew we'd have a day like this at the end
of the case, I'd do it again."

"Even the naked in the basement part?"

Mulder narrowed his eyes at her.  "Agent Scully, you seem a
trifle obsessed with one particular aspect of the case.  May
I ask why?"

"Maybe I just like to tease you," she said.

He shook his head.  "We've come a long way, haven't we?
You were so different when I first met you."

"Different how?"

"You were, uh, sort of uptight," he said, and raised his
hands as if to ward off a blow, grinning.

Scully grinned back.  "Maybe I wasn't.  Maybe I just wanted
you to think that," she said.

"Are you saying you haven't changed over the years?"

"Not fundamentally.  But how you see me has changed.  First
impressions are tricky things.  When I first saw you, I'd
never have pegged you as someone who liked headbanger
music."

"Who says I do?" Mulder asked.

"Remember Ellens Air Force Base?  The tape that those two
stoners gave you?  First impressions, Mulder."

"Maybe I was just yanking your chain."

"It works both ways, you know," she said.  "I had to prove
myself to you, and I had to get past your defenses.  You
weren't easy."

"Neither were you," Mulder replied.  "Not that that's a bad
thing.  I can never resist a challenge."

"That makes two of us.  You could have pretended to
cooperate and still have gone your own way.  Instead,
you threw down the gauntlet.  What could I do but pick
it up?"

"And the rest, as they say, is history,"  Mulder drained
his iced tea and tossed the empty into a nearby recycling
can.  "Two points!"

Scully smiled.  "How about dessert?"

"Are you thinking the same thing for dessert as I'm
thinking?"  Mulder leered at her.

"Speaking of obsessed..." she teased.  "Probably not."
She rummaged around in the deli bag and brought out a tub
of caramel dip.  "For the apples," she said.  "Much less
dangerous to the teeth than regular caramel apples."

Much less dangerous to public decency than what he'd had
in mind, too.  Scully knew him too well.  Mulder put those
thoughts away temporarily and said with an almost-straight
face, "You'll have to show me how to do it."  He knew he
was asking for it, but he knew just as certainly that
Scully wanted to show him.

"Poor deprived man," said Scully.  She took a slice of
apple and dipped it into the tub of caramel, twirling it
around before pulling it out, still dripping the sticky
sweet.  Then she slowly brought it up to her lips, gently
sucking the caramel off the fruit before taking a bite.

"Ooh Scully," he breathed.  This was almost as good as
what he had in mind.

"Want some?"  she picked up another piece of fruit and
dipped it into the caramel.  He took her hand and guided
it to his mouth, catching one of her fingers between his
lips as she withdrew.  Now he wasn't the only one having
trouble breathing.  Must be the elevation, he thought. Of
something.  He grinned and chewed his apple, licking the
last of the caramel sauce off his lips, watching Scully
watch him.

"Shall I save some for later?"  she asked huskily.

He could only nod.

They took their time driving around the lake, stopping
to enjoy the vistas afforded by the setting sun.  The
aspen trees looked like they'd been dipped in gold,
contrasting against the dark evergreens.  Scarlet oak
peeked out here and there, blood-red, amber, and orange.
The lake played hide-and-seek through the trees, sometimes
silvered by the sun, sometimes gilded.  They stopped at
a scenic overlook and watched as the last of the sun was
hidden by the mountains at their back and the lake turned
pewter.

Scully turned to say something to Mulder and met his lips
more than halfway to hers.  He still tasted like caramel
and now she would always associate that flavor with him.

Mulder was thinking the same thing about Scully as his
tongue teased hers.  Sweet, soft caramel and a slight
tartness, that was his Scully.  Once he'd been lucky
enough to get past the latter, he'd found how sweet it
was to touch her, to kiss her, to surround himself in
her.  He was pretty sure that he got the best part of
the bargain.

If he could have read Scully's thoughts at that moment,
he would have teased her about how in synch they were.
It had always been there; it had just taken them both a
long time to give into it.

Scully broke the kiss first but stayed close, stroking
his face with her soft hand.  His arms went around her,
holding her as close as he could, nuzzling his nose
against her neck.

They kissed some more, and touched a little, as the
moon rose over the lake and created a new vista that
was wasted on the two lovers.  Clouds began to drift
across the moon as time passed and they stayed where
they were.  All their usual cares, their everyday lives,
fell away as they kissed and murmured endearments and
silliness, punctuated by more kisses.  They'd denied
themselves simple pleasures for so long.  Just having
the time to be together like this was precious.

Eventually Mulder's hands began to get a little bolder,
pulling Scully's blouse from the waistband of her skirt
and placing his palm against her stomach.  He felt her
trembling.

"Are you cold?"  he asked hoarsely, placing kisses
wherever he could reach.

"Y-yeah," she said.  "A little.  "I'm dreaming of a
fireplace and a big, soft bed.  Are we very far from
where we're staying?"

"It's -- down -- the road -- a little further," he
said, punctuating his words with more kisses.

"I think," Scully said breathlessly, "that it's time
to go there."

"Yeah," Mulder agreed, and turned the key in the ignition.

The engine turned, coughed, and died.

He'd left the engine running for the heater once the sun
had gone down, but neither had noticed when it quit
running a bit ago.

Scully groaned and her head dropped back against the
headrest.

"Don't panic," Mulder said, though he was doing a good
imitation of his panic face.  "I'll look under the hood."

"Mulder, have you been holding out on me?  Do you know
anything about cars?"

"Um, not really."

Scully already had her cell phone out.  "No service,"
said the helpful little display.  "Damn it."

Mulder got back into the car and drummed his fingers
on the steering wheel.  Just for show, he tried his
phone too, and got the same helpful message.  "Now
what?"

"I'm thinking it's the gas, or maybe the battery,"
Scully said.

"Do *you* know anything about cars?"  Mulder asked.

"No," Scully had to admit.  "But you could get the
engine to turn over, so I'm guessing it's not
mechanical."  A thought struck her.  "Did you get
gas before we left South Lake Tahoe?"

"I thought you were getting gas," Mulder said.
"When you went to the deli."

"I thought we agreed a long time ago that it's
the driver who gets the gas, Mulder."

"Well, technically, you were the driver at that
point," he said.

Scully just looked at him.  Mulder could see their
getaway crumbling into dust.

He opened his door.  "Wait here, Scully.  There's
got to be a house around here somewhere.  I'll go
get help."

"You're not going without me," Scully said.

"You have a gun, and you might be better off in
the car," Mulder said, looking at her high heels.

"If we go together, we both have guns," Scully
pointed out.  "I'll manage."

They got their coats out of the trunk and put them
on.  Scully took a couple of bottles of water and
slipped them into her coat pockets.  "Just in case,"
she said as she noticed Mulder watching her.  "You
can survive a long time without food, but not without
water."

"We're not exactly in the middle of the desert here,"
Mulder said.

"Humor me," she said tightly.

They trudged down the road, watching for headlights
to come along.  Mulder looked up at the moon peeking
through the clouds.  It was enough light, barely,
and he didn't want to use his flashlight until he
had to.

"Vampire moon," he said to Scully, trying to lighten
things up.

"Whatever, Mulder," Scully muttered.  She stumbled a
little on the gravel of the verge.

He turned his flashlight on.

They came upon a paved but otherwise unmarked road
about a quarter of a mile from their car.  Mulder
thought he could see lights twinkling in the distance.
"Shall we give it a try?" he asked Scully.

Scully followed him without a word.  He felt like hell.
All he'd wanted was a couple of days alone with Scully.
Was it too much to ask?  Was it fate or his own negligence?
He chewed over fate, randomness, and chance in silence as
they wound down the road.  It seemed to be heading toward
the lake, but it doubled back on itself.  except for the
moon through the trees, they'd have no sense of direction
at all.

At last the road began to level out.  Without warning, a
very large cloud obscured the moon, Mulder's flashlight
went out at almost the same instant, and the paved road
once again became gravel.

Scully stumbled again, but Mulder caught her.  "I'm sorry,
Scully," he said.  "Really."

"You couldn't have known this would happen," she said.
"Let's just let it drop."

"Okay," he said gratefully.  He got another glimpse
of lights through the trees, much closer than before.
The path leveled out and after one more bend, they came
upon a wide gravel driveway fronting a very large house.

It was hard to make out the house's features with the
moon behind it, but lights blazed from the lower windows.
Mulder clutched Scully's hand and they moved forward to
the door.

The door was very large and flanked by diamond-paned
windows.  Mulder found a bell pull and heard a faint
ringing somewhere in the house.

After a few moments, the door creaked open, revealing
an elderly man in a formal suit.

"Yes, may I help you?"  he asked in a normal voice.
Scully let out a small breath of relief; she'd been
expecting Boris Karloff.

"Excuse us for disturbing you, but is there a telephone
we could use?  Our car is broken down, up on the highway."

"Please come in," said the man.  "I'll get Madam."  He
stalked away before they could say anything more.

=====

Mulder looked around the entry to see if he could see
a phone.  The walls were stone but the overall effect
was cozy, with patterned rugs on the floor and comfortable
chairs.  A very large fireplace warmed the room from one
corner.

A door opened down the hall and a woman approached them.
She was dressed in an elegant satin gown, a triple strand
of pearls at her throat.  "I'm Mrs. Knight," she said.
"Lewis told me that your car has broken down?"

"Yes," Mulder said.  "I'm Fox Mulder, and this is Dana
Scully."

Scully noticed that he hadn't produced his badge and
wondered if he'd left it in the car.  She was about to
say something, but he gave her a look, and she stayed
silent.  For the moment.

"Are you one of the New England Mulders?"  Mrs. Knight
asked.

"Yes," Mulder said, tensing up a little.  "Do you know
them?"

"Not well," she said.  "I think my late husband may
have done business with the Mulder family."

He could feel Scully tensing beside him.

"And...Miss Scully, is it?"  she asked delicately.

"Ag -- Miss Scully is my partner.  Business partner,"
Mulder said.  He wasn't about to reveal anything he
didn't have to, and willed Scully to understand.

Mrs. Knight didn't bat an eyelash.  "Business partner?
How interesting."

Oh, she's good, Mulder thought.  Mrs. Knight reminded
him of his grandmother Mulder.  So well-behaved, but
very good at indicating approval or disapproval with
the arch of an eyebrow or a simple word.

"We're investigators," he said, half-explaining.
"We investigate...we're like private eyes."

"So Miss Scully must be your assistant," Mrs. Knight
concluded.

Scully bristled at that, and was ready to set Mrs.
Knight straight.  No matter if she looked like someone's
grandmother, she was either extremely rude or extremely
snobbish.  Probably both.

"Actually, she's a better investigator than I am,"
Mulder said.  "I'm more like her assistant than the
other way around."

"How charming," she exclaimed, but clearly she thought
it was anything but.  She changed the subject.

"You're very fortunate to find anyone here," she said.
"Usually I've shut the house up by this time, but the
autumn has been so mild we stayed a few weeks longer.
We're leaving in the morning, in fact."

"We're very sorry to have disturbed you," Mulder said
again.  "If we might use your phone, we'll call for
road service and go back to the car."

"I'm afraid the nearest garage that might still be
open is in Reno," Mrs. Knight said.  "It could take
hours for them to get here.  If you can tell me where
the car is, I'll send one of the men to check it for
you.  Antonio is a very good mechanic."

"We think it might just be out of gas," Scully added.

Mrs. Knight turned to her as if seeing her for the
first time.  "I'll ask Antonio to take a gas can with
him.  If it is just that, he can drive the car down
here.  You shouldn't have to walk back up that long drive."

"If you have gas available, I'd be happy to go up
myself," Mulder said.  "No need to send your man."

"Nonsense!"  Mrs. Knight said.  "You've walked all
the way down here and no doubt you're tired.  And if
it isn't just gasoline, you'll have to walk back down
again.  Just tell Antonio where to find your car and
he will see to it."

Obviously Mrs. Knight was a woman used to having her
own way, and Mulder belatedly realized that walking up
alone meant leaving Scully at the house.  Much better
if they could stay together.

"In fact, considering the lateness of the hour I think
it would be much better if you stayed the night," their
would-be hostess said.

Mulder half-expected a flash of lightening and a peal of
thunder to accompany her words.  They were straight out
of any number of legends and horror films.

"No, really, we couldn't impose,"  Scully was saying.

"I insist," Mrs. Knight said.  "I'll have Maria show you
to your rooms.  Have you dined?  We've finished dinner
but I can have something sent up to you."

Maybe it was just the proximity to Halloween, but the
whole evening had taken on a surreal quality.  There was
something strange going on.

Nonetheless, when the uniformed maid arrived in the hall,
they followed her upstairs after thanking Mrs. Knight
again.

"It's no trouble at all,"  Mrs. Knight said.  "If you
need anything, please ring."

Mulder leaned over and whispered to Scully, "If you need
anything, just scream..."

Scully stifled a laugh that would have bordered on the
hysterical if she'd let it.

x-x-x-x

Scully stared in awe at the large, claw-footed bathtub
in her bathroom.  The bathroom was every woman's dream,
outfitted with glass and silver toiletries and huge,
fluffy towels.  The bedroom was even more luxurious.
A low fire glowed in the fireplace, and the bed was
outfitted with a featherbed and sumptuous linens.

There was a knock at her door.  She opened it, starting
to say, "Mul--"

It was another maid, with a covered tray.  "Madam sent
up a light supper, Miss," she said.

"Thank you," Scully said faintly, and watched as the maid
set the tray on a table near the fire.  "Can I get you
anything else, Miss?"  The maid asked.

"No thank you," Scully managed.  The maid nodded and
withdrew.

This time when she heard the knock she opened the door
more cautiously.  Mulder stood there, holding a similar
tray in his hands.  "Care to join me for dinner?"  he
asked.  He had changed into an elegant robe of deep
burgundy shot with black.

"Aren't you just to the manor born?"  said Scully,
thinking longingly of her bathtub.

"When in Rome..." Mulder said.  He set his tray down on
the table and drew up two chairs.  "Please sit, Madam,"
he said with a flourish.

As they ate, Scully asked,  "Does this place strike you
as strange at all, Mulder?"

"In what way?"  Mulder asked, after he'd swallowed a
large bite of roast chicken.

"Well, here's this house out in the middle of nowhere,
no signs or gates, no particular security.  I don't see
any electronic security devices anywhere, in fact.  And
look around the room -- no telephone, no TV, no radio."

"It's almost un-American, isn't it?"  Mulder remarked.
"Yeah, I noticed all that, too.  But if it's a getaway,
I can understand the lack of TVs and all in the rooms.
Or maybe these rooms just aren't used very much.  She
said something about guests -- we aren't the only ones
here."

"The furnishings seem a bit old-fashioned, but they all
appear to be fairly new," Scully said.

"Restoration Hardware must love Mrs. Knight," Mulder
quipped.  "Welcome to the world of the rich and eccentric."

"You're not suspicious at all?"  Scully asked.

"Well, maybe a little," Mulder admitted.  "I'd like to
know more about how she knows my family's name.  That
seems a bit coincidental."

"What do you suggest we do?"  Scully asked.  "Sneak out
under cover of night?  Go searching for the telephone?"

There was another knock on the door.  Scully motioned to
Mulder to stand behind the door as she opened it to reveal
Mrs. Knight.

"Miss Scully, I just thought I'd check to see if you
have everything you need.  Mr. Mulder did not answer."

"I'm right here," Mulder stepped out from behind the
door, quickly hiding his gun in the pocket of his robe.

Mrs. Knight took in his bathrobed appearance.  Her eyes
flicked briefly to Scully and then back to him.  "I see.
Antonio has brought your car down and it will be ready for
you in the morning. He says it appears that it had just
run out of gas,"  she said directly to Mulder.  "I'll wish
you goodnight."

Scully's face flamed.  "Thank you for your hospitality,
Mrs. Knight."

"The maid will wake you at seven a.m.," she said.  "If
you'd like an earlier call, please let her know when she
comes for your trays."

"Thank you," Scully said again.  Mrs. Knight nodded and
walked away.

"Well," Mulder said,  "I feel like I was caught in
flagrante delicto."

"But I get the impression it's me she's judging," Scully
said.

"She's just jealous,"  Mulder said.  "Still feeling
uneasy?"

"Aren't you?"

"I'm inclined to believe that she's just a little e
ccentric," Mulder said.  "Maybe we're just too paranoid."

"That's funny, coming from you, Mr.
No-matter-how-paranoid-you-are-it's-not-enough."

He came to her and wrapped his arms around her.  "I dunno
what it is, Scully, but as weird as it is, I don't get a
bad vibe."

"Maybe," Scully said.  "But it might be better if we take
turns keeping watch tonight.  I think we should stay
together."

"I wouldn't have it any other way,"  Mulder said.  "Just
try and kick me out.  I'll take first watch.  I bet you're
dying to try out that bathtub."

"You know me too well," Scully said.

A long, luxurious soak later, Scully was a bit more at
peace with the world and with their situation.  Maybe
they *were* just too paranoid for their own good.  When
presented with simple, gracious (albeit a bit condescending)
hospitality, they viewed it with suspicion.  What did that
say about them?

Nonetheless, it paid to be cautious.  She felt better that
Mulder was with her.

She came out in a satin robe of her own, her hair softly
curling from the steam of the bath.

Mulder was lounging on the bed, looking rather smug.

"What?"  she asked.

He dangled the car keys in front of her.  "The maid brought
our bags up.  And the keys.  Feel better?"

"About what?"

"That we're not being held prisoner or under any kind of
duress."

"Are you saying that sometimes a cigar is just a cigar,
Mulder?"

"Ooh, dirty psychiatrist talk.  I like it,"  he said.
"Wanna guess what I have on under my robe?"

"I bet it's nothing I haven't seen before," she shot
back.

"Come over here and say that," he growled.

She went, willingly.

x-x-x-x

The sun was peeking through the edge of the curtains when
Scully opened her eyes the next morning.  She stretched
slowly, brushing against Mulder sleeping beside her.  She
reached for her watch on the bedside table.

She wasn't sure what time they'd finally both fallen
asleep, but it had been very, very late.

"Hey," she said, shaking Mulder's shoulder.  "I think
the maid forgot us."

"Wha?" he said.  "Time's it?"

"Seven-thirty," she said.  "So, unless you told the maid
to wake us later, she forgot."

Mulder sat up.  "Mrs. Knight said they'd be leaving today,
so I'll bet they've just been too busy to think of the
unexpected house guests.  Still, we'd better get up.
Maybe we're not too late for breakfast."

A short time later, they descended the staircase to the
dim front hallway.  There was no sign of life anywhere --
no butler, no maids, no sounds from any of the rooms.

"Do you suppose they've already left?"  Scully asked.

Mulder opened one of the doors leading off the hallway.
"Hey Scully, look at this."

She came over to the door and looked into what appeared
to be a study.  There was a velvet rope at the entrance,
and a sign explaining the purpose of the room.

"Mrs. Knight engaged her son-in-law to design the house
with the Nordic elements that she admired,"  Scully read.
"What does this mean?"

"It looks like we're in some kind of museum,"  Mulder said.

The front doorknob rattled and both agents were on the alert.

"Anyone there?"  called a voice from the door.

"Yeah," Mulder answered.  "Special Agents Mulder and Scully.
FBI."  They stepped toward the entrance, showing their badges.

A man in a park ranger uniform approached them.  "How'd you
get in here?"

"We knocked, and were invited in."  Mulder said.

"When?  Just now?"

"No, last night.  Our car ran out of gas and we were looking
for a phone.  The lady of the house invited us to stay."

"There's no `lady of the house', Mr. Mulder.  This is State
Park property."

"No one was here last night?"

"There sure as hell shouldn't have been.  Vikingsholm is
closed to tours after September, though you can still walk
around the grounds."

Mulder and Scully looked at each other.  "Vikingsholm?"

"Yeah.  Built in 1929 by Mrs. Lora Josephine Knight.  It
was sold to the Parks Service in the 50's.  No one's lived
here since then."

"Anything special happen here?"  Mulder asked.

"Such as?"

"I dunno, a famous murder, an important historical personage
visiting, something like that."

"I heard Will Rogers was a houseguest once, but that's about
it.  It was Mrs. Knight's summer home.  She had a lot of
friends and relatives to stay, and by all reports, was a
generous and gracious hostess."

"And no one does any living history stuff, or rents it
out?"

"If they did, I'd know about it," Lewis said.  "What's all
this about, anyway?  You folks investigating something?"

"I'm not sure,"  Mulder replied.  "Like I said, we were let
in last night by someone calling herself Mrs. Knight.  We
spent the night."

"Show me where," Ranger Lewis requested.  Mulder and Scully
led him upstairs.

They went from room to room and could find no evidence of
anyone spending the night in any of the rooms.  They were
all as pristine as a museum display.

They went into the kitchen and through the rooms downstairs.
There was no sign of life, anywhere.

"I don't know what to say, Agents," said Lewis.  "I don't
have an explanation for you.  I've never heard of Vikingsholm
being haunted, and frankly I wouldn't believe it if I did.
It's close to Halloween, could be that someone broke in and
was having a little fun.  I don't know how they got past the
alarms without tripping them, though."

"Is that how you knew we were in here?  Did we trip an alarm?"

"Yeah, I got a call about 7:30 this morning that one of the
silent alarms went off.  We've gotten a lot of false alarms
in the past, but now I wonder if they were."

"Sounds pretty spooky to me,"  Mulder said.  "Are we done
here?  We're actually due in King's Beach.  That's where we
were headed last night."

"Yeah, we're okay, I guess.  Where can I reach you?"

Mulder handed him a card.  "Let me know if you find out
anything, okay?"

"Sure thing," the ranger said.

Mulder turned away and then stopped short.  "I almost forgot.
We can't go anywhere until we get gas.  Can you take us
somewhere to get some?  That's what started all this in
the first place."

"That your car over there?"  Ranger Lewis pointed to the
brown Taurus at the edge of the drive.

"Y-yeah, I think so,"  Mulder said.  He looked at Scully as
he walked over to the car.

The car looked like it had been waxed recently, and the
windshield was devoid of any dust or bugs that might have
accumulated in their drive around the lake the day before.
Mulder got in and turned the key, watching as the gas gauge
slowly moved all the way over to the right.

"We seem to have a full tank now," he called over to Scully
and the ranger.

Ranger Lewis shrugged.  "Maybe there was a clog or it
overheated or something.  It sounds like it's running fine."

Mulder turned off the ignition and walked back over to where
the ranger and Scully stood.  "Well, I guess we'll shove off,
then,"  he said.  "Thanks."

"No problem," said Lewis, and he watched as Mulder and
Scully got into their car and drove away.

Once they'd gained the highway, Scully asked, "What just
happened back there, Mulder?"

"I have a theory," he said, "based on something I experienced
once before, but you'll probably disagree."

"Try me," she said.

"You heard Ranger Lewis.  The house was built in 1929, and
its heyday was throughout the 30s and early 40s.  I think
maybe we did a spot of time-travel last night."

Scully looked very thoughtful.  "I was expecting the Haunted
Mansion Theory.  Instead, I get the Bermuda Triangle Theory."

"You name my theories?"  Mulder asked.

"Well, not all of them."

"So you find time-travel an acceptable explanation?"

"Maybe just the least unacceptable one," Scully hedged.

"Scully..."  Mulder groaned.

"Mulder, when you investigated the Queen Anne you were
checking out a story about the ship disappearing and
reappearing in the Bermuda Triangle.  With the haunted
house, you were checking out a legend that had some basis
in a historical event.  According to the ranger, nothing
historically significant happened here.  And, it appears
that Vikingsholm was a reasonably happy house so it stands
to reason that it wouldn't be haunted."

"How do you explain it otherwise?  How do you explain the
full tank of gas?"

"I don't," she said.  "Maybe there is a good explanation,
but I'm on vacation, Mulder.  You promised me no ghosts
or investigating paranormal phenomena."

"Some seek out phenomena, some have phenomena thrust upon
them," Mulder said.  "You aren't curious?"

"Of course I am, I'm just looking for the simplest explanation."

"So am I," Mulder said.  "And I think that's it.  I want to
know more, Scully."

x-x-x-x

The Lakeview Bed and Breakfast wasn't nearly as opulent as
Vikingsholm, but they had a reasonable expectation of waking
up in the same time period there.

Before heading to King's Beach, they'd gone back to South
Lake Tahoe to talk to Luke about local ghosts, only to find
that his shop was closed.  Mulder spent time going through
newspaper archives and searching the web for more information
on Mrs. Knight and Vikingsholm but found nothing significant,
except reports of her legendary hospitality.  Why wouldn't
she extend it to stranded motorists, especially in an era
when houses along the lake were few and far between, and
unexpected visitors even rarer?

They resumed their vacation with no more answers than before.

Over a Black Cat Ale and burgers at the North Shore Brewpub,
Mulder pondered the mystery.

"Maybe we should just accept it, Mulder,"  Scully suggested.
No harm was done to us, as near as I can tell."

"I guess not," he said glumly.  "It would be nice to have
some evidence, though."

"A full tank of gas?"  Scully asked.

"Ephemeral at best.  We can't prove where it came from, we
just know that it was empty the night before."

"Even if we dreamed it, it was a nice dream," Scully said.
"And it gives us better memories of Lake Tahoe than the actual
case we were on."

"You're not going to bring up that basement thing again, are
you?"  Mulder asked.

"Of course not," Scully said.  "But as you said before, I
wouldn't rule out naked."

end.

Author's notes:  Vikingsholm is a real place.  Want to know
more?  www.vikingsholm.com

Mrs. Lora J. Knight was also a real person, and I hope I've
done no disservice to her memory by including mention of her
in this story.

I have no idea if there's a Lakeview Bed and Breakfast in King's
Beach, or a North Shore Brewpub, but there probably should be.

This was a challenge fic.  Elements were:
a creaking door
skulls
blood red
a werewolf, or vampire moon
screams
cobwebs and spiders
a coffin
a Boris Karloff mention
A car running out of gas on a deserted road
black cat
caramel apples

The title I borrowed from the lyrics of a fairly well-known
song.  Do you know it?  I bet you do. <g>

feedback?  yes, please!  msnsc21@yahoo.com