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"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.

x-x-x-x

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 eccentric,"
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>

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