Disclaimer: Neither House MD nor X-files belong to me.

A/N: First of all, this story is rated a strong T or perhaps a mild M. Now take a minute to think of all the things that could be the reason for that rating. Done? Good, now you have no right to complain that I didn't warn you about things that may or may not happen. Secondly, the plot and most of the dialogues are taken from an X-files episode with slight modifications when needed. Thirdly, there will be no vampires in this fic. If that's what you're after, you may as well turn around. Here's a little teaser for starters.


Chapter 1- Prologue

Christmas, 1917. American soldiers were dying at an ungodly rate in a war-torn Europe while at home, a deadly strain of the flu virus attacked young and old alike. Tragedy was a visitor on every doorstep while a creeping hopelessness set in with every man, woman and child. It was a time of dark, dark despair.

But here at 1501 Larkspur Lane for a pair of star-crossed lovers tragedy came not from war or pestilence, not by the boot heel or the bombardier, but by their own innocent hand.

His name was Maurice. He was a brooding but heroic young man beloved of Lyda, a sublime beauty with a light that seemed to follow her wherever she went. They were likened to two angels descended from heaven whom the gods could not protect from the horrors being visited upon this cold, gray earth.

Driven by a tragic fear of separation they forged a lovers' pact, so that they might spend eternity together and not spent one precious Christmas apart.

Their ghosts haunt this house every Christmas Eve.

Since then, every couple that has lived in the house has met a tragic end. There were three double murders in the last 80 years, all on Christmas Eve.


A/N: You should tone it down a bit with the praise this time. I mean, I know I'm awesome when it comes to copy/pasting, but still (in fact this whole chapter was taken from the show)…I also advise you against looking up this episode, unless you want to spoil the ending for yourself.