Archive: Okay for Gossamer, others ask first, thanks! You'll probably get it, just please email me first.

Authors Notes: While I attempted to stay true to history and accurate on the details of the St. Augustine Lighthouse and Museum, I am adding the disclaimer that anything related to Gregory McConnaughy is my creation. He never lived, nor did the events surrounding his life occur. Also, when I visited the lighthouse, I didn't get to go inside the museum (long story) or the lighthouse (lightning). Thus, the interior details of the museum are my own creation. This is just good old fiction! So please, if you are a lighthouse fan, or a student of the St. Augustine lighthouse's history, please don't flame me, I'm admitting now that I'm winging it. :-) Please let me know what you thought!

Disclaimer: Straight simple and to the point: Mulder and Scully are property of FOX Television, 1013 Productions, Chris Carter, and probably a bunch of other people. If I owned them, I wouldn't need student loans. Additional disclaimers follow the story.

Flames flickered everywhere Fox Mulder could see. He couldn't remember how the fire had started, but he knew that he had to get out. As he frantically searched for a door, he fought to keep control. Physical injury posed less of a threat that the panic attack he could feel threatening. He kept low to the floor, straining to see through the dense smoke and flame. His anxiety grew exponentially with each moment he didn't discover an exit. Breathing became harder and harder, and he was unsure if it was the soot and smoke or a more personal shortcoming at fault.

Coughing, he plunged forward through the searing heat and darkness. Why did it have to be fire? his mind questioned, amid other thoughts of shutting down all together. It was a thin line that held onto his sanity as he grew concerned that he was indeed walking in circles and might never escape. What felt like a lifetime later, he found he could see the outline of a door before him. It seemed to glow white amidst the hellish inferno of reds and oranges. Slowly, he pushed forward toward the salvation it offered.

"Fox!" Her cry cut through both the roar of the flames and the cries in his mind to get out of the house, no matter what. Confusion racked his brain, and he turned to look as best he could, in the direction that the voice had come from. What little common sense still resided in his trauma scarred mind demanded that it couldn't be his Sam, for that had been the cry of an eight-year-old. Yet that voice in his brain couldn't be heard over the den of others commanding him to find her, to save her. He hadn't saved her before, now was his chance. Logic had been replaced with delirium, and this delirium was thriving on his fear and loss of control.

Running head long into the firestorm, his voice rang hollow in his ears. "Samantha! Samantha!" Scant seconds later, he was struggling to not collapse onto the sagging wooden floor. Tears had left whitened streaks down his soot-covered face and coughing had replaced breathing. Forced onto his hands and knees, he again sought the safety of the door he'd left behind in yet another search for the impossible.

It wasn't there. He couldn't find it. The panic he had been fighting ever since finding himself immersed in such a personal hell took control. He couldn't fight it anymore. He had tried and failed, like so many other failures in his life. The flames inched toward him on all sides, and he cursed his weakness. He could feel the boards beneath him start to tremble and weaken against the fire's onslaught. He closed his eyes, pulled his knees up against his chest and wished silently that Scully were there to save him yet again. Suddenly the ceiling creaked and began to collapse all around him. He was trapped.

Mulder's eyes flew open, and he scrambled to make sense of what was going on. He was lying on his couch, covered in sweat. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember the details of the nightmare that had plagued him for the fourth time in two weeks. The difference this time was hearing Samantha. It was as if all his fears were determined to group together and drive him insane. With a shaky laugh he wondered if they were succeeding. Unsteadily he stood up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to get a glass of water.

The first night after he had woken up from the fire dream, he had tried to go back to sleep. Even though he saw the futility of it, he had given it a shot. Since then, he had grown accustomed to turning on the television and trying not to think about how bad he would look in the morning. So far, he had managed to avoid any concerned questions from Scully. He could only hope the dreams would stop before she noticed the developing pattern.

The remaining few hours of darkness passed slowly. Just when Mulder thought he might resort to dribbling his basketball the clock turned to six thirty. Much to his downstairs neighbor's luck. With that, Mulder resigned himself to getting dressed and heading into work. Their case load had been light recently, but hopefully there would be a mutant or two to chase to occupy his mind. Anything to forget the nightmares about the burning house.

He arrived at the J. Edgar Hoover Building an hour early for work and went straight to the basement. Reaching the small office, Mulder unlocked the door and walked over to his desk. After draping his suit jacket across the back of his chair with a stifled yawn, he went in search of a cup of coffee. After three attempts to get the coffee maker to work, he finally walked back into the office and sat at his desk, leaning back in the chair. While looking over some possible cases, his eyes began to fall closed.

Arcs of flame filled his vision. There seemed to be no escape from the smoke-filled maze of rooms that he found himself lost in. He gasped for breath, but still felt lightheaded. Dropping to his knees, he tried to get below the suffocating smoke to find an exit. Only there wasn't one. There were only the groans and creaks of old wood being consumed by the raging flames.

"Mulder." He stopped his search for an escape when he heard Scully call out to him. There was no reason left in his mind, only the panic filled voices screaming for him to find her. Standing, he began to run through the labyrinth of rooms and corridors. However, the colors of the fire, blended with the thickening smoke served to blind him in his pursuit.

"Mulder!" He again heard her call, but the flames were everywhere. Turning the corner into the hallway he was sure her voice had come from he was brought up short as the ceiling collapsed, cutting him off.

"No! Scully!" His smoke scarred voice echoed along the walls. He turned, searching for another way to get to her, when the floor fell out from under his feet. He fell, dazed and trapped, his panic increasing. "No!"

At his last cry, Mulder toppled over in the wooden chair. Instantly awake, he could not only feel the sweat covering his face, but Scully's gaze on him as well. Looking up into her eyes, he saw her concern filter through them.

Breaking the contact, she began to check for any injuries as a result of his slamming into the hard floor, with Mulder there was never a safety net. She could feel him watching as she checked him out, and then helped him sit back in his seat. As she did so, she tried to figure out what she had just seen. When she had arrived, she noticed that he was asleep behind his desk. It didn't concern her until the phone had rang and she had spoken with AD Skinner. He hadn't even flinched when the shrill tone cut through the office.

At a closer look, she could see the fine sheen of perspiration beading up on his forehead, and his eyes moving frantically beneath his eyelids. Placing her hand on his shoulder, she called his name. Not only did he not answer, but began to jerk around in the seat. In another attempt to bring him out of whatever visions was assailing him she called out his name, louder this time. She was taken aback when he spoke, but what gave her pause was that it had been her name so frantically spoken.

When he cried again, she was startled by the force with which he hit the floor. "Mulder? How do you feel?" She watched as he managed to force his breathing to slow down, and he regained his bearings. She reached to feel his pulse, not surprised to find it still racing. Without a conscious thought, she reached over and brushed back the hair that had fallen down onto his face.

"I'm fine, Scully." She managed to not flinch at his choice of words. Those were the two most often spoken words in their office. And often the two most despised. Seeing her look of disbelief, he continued. "No, seriously, Scully. It was just a dream, that's all."

Leaning against the edge of his desk, she tried a different tactic. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He paused, remembering the vivid images of only minutes before. She saw the look of terror that filled his hazel eyes for an instant before he spoke. "No thanks, Scully. Just a dream." He knew that she would be disappointed that he didn't open up to her, but he needed to make sense of them first. "How long have you been here?"

"About ten minutes," she said without looking at her watch. "Skinner called. He has a case for us, we're supposed to be in his office in fifteen minutes." This time she did look at her watch, "Well, in ten minutes now."

Sitting up straight in his chair, Mulder attempted to straighten up his suit and tie. "Did he say what it was about?"

She shook her head. "No. But Mulder, you might want to run down to the bathroom. You look like you've been sleeping in the office again."

Mulder noted the dry humor in her voice, as well as that in his own. "Well, gee, Scully. At least I have an excuse." Just before leaving the office he saw the cool look she gave him, but it was betrayed by the mirth that shone in her eyes.

Ten minutes later they were sitting in Skinner's office. "Usually I would hesitate to send agents out on a call such as this, but the local police are stumped. The lighthouse in St. Augustine, Florida has been the sight of some strange, incidents."

"Incidents, Sir?"

Skinner looked down at the file sitting on his desk. He couldn't believe that this was meriting an investigation. "Yes. Sightings of some sort. Several over the past few weeks. The last one was when part of the museum caught on fire, yet when the firefighters arrived, it looked as if nothing had happened. At the moment your case load is rather light, so I'm agreeing with the field office that you two be sent there to try and discern the cause of these, sightings." Both agents could hear him practically choke the last word out.

Mulder and Scully stood, and Skinner handed her the file he had just been reading. "Thank you, Sir."

While walking back toward their office, Scully could see Mulder growing more and more excited about the case. In fact, if she was asked to describe him, he was acting more like a little boy after hearing a ghost story.

"Mulder," she said after they got back to the office. "Why do you think Skinner is sending us out on this case? I'd hesitate to even call it that. It's nothing more than a local myth."

Mulder laughed. "Well, obviously someone doesn't think so. Besides, think about it, Scully. A real life ghost story. A real life ghost story on the beach."

"Mulder, we're not flying down there to go to the beach. We're going to be Ghostbusters." Mulder began to laugh even harder at Scully's description. Scully sighed, but found his laughter contagious and was herself fighting a smile. "All right, all right. Let's get going."

***

St. Augustine, Florida
Ponce de Leon Motor Lodge

After checking in with the local police, they checked into the Ponce de Leon Motor Lodge. Mulder knocked on the door connecting his room to Scully's, and tested the handle. Finding it unlocked, he walked into her room. "Scully, I figured we would start by interviewing the workers at the lighthouse museum. Talk to Mrs. Crandall."

Having finished hanging up her clothes, she turned to the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. "That would make sense. Exactly what are we looking for?"

Walking past her to sit on the end of the bed, Mulder whispered closed to her ear. "A ghost!" Following the whisper with maniacal laughter.

"So should I call you Ray or Egon?"

"Scully, you wound me. I've always been more like Peter." An evil grin filled his face as a thought struck him, "And since you're Dana . . . " Mulder ducked as a shoe flew over in his general direction. "Okay, so you won't wear that skimpy dress and growl." With that, the left shoe followed the first one across the room.

***

St. Augustine, Florida
St. Augustine Lighthouse and Museum

A steady rain had been falling the entire time they had been in town. Driving along the wet roads, Scully finally spotted the small sign that marked the road to the lighthouse. Mulder pulled the rental car up into a spot a down from the side of the museum building next to a sprawling oak tree. Walking around the car, he took the umbrella Scully offered and held it over them as they walked toward the red brick two story house.

Once they were up on the covered two story porch, they stopped to close the umbrella and shake off their coats. Entering the old building, they found themselves walking into a gift shop. An older woman was working behind the counter on the left, and a single tourist looked at ceramic lighthouse miniatures on the right side of the small room.

"Hello! And how are y'all on this rainy evening?" The gray haired lady spoke with the slightest trace of a southern accent.

Scully smiled in response to the friendly greeting. "I'm Agent Mulder, and this is my partner, Agent Scully. We're with the FBI. Are you Mrs. Crandall?" Both Mulder and Scully had pulled out their badges, and placed them back into their interior coat pockets.

The woman nodded. "Yes, I am. Are you here about Gregory?"

Scully nodded. "Mr. McConnaughy, yes. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Yes, just a moment." She nodded her head, and walked through a door immediately to her left. She returned followed by a young dark-haired woman. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, this is Sam Pruitt. Now, if you'll follow me." Mulder nodded to the woman as they walked by, a somewhat distant look in his eyes. Scully tried to gage his reaction to the clerk's name.

Mrs. Crandall led them into a back room, motioning for them to sit on a plush love seat. Taking a seat across from them, she smiled. "What would you like to know?"

Mulder leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Mrs. Crandall. You could start by describing any encounters you have had with Mr. McConnaughy."

***

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