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freckleslikestars · 2 years

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The Perseid Equation

Scully takes Mulder on a mystery date, pre-IWTB

MSR, General Audiences

@xfilesbingo prompt: Mystery

1393 words, read here on AO3

A sultry heat had settled over the country, unbearable during the day. Not a breeze stirred the brittle grass and the ground had dried and hardened to an impenetrable, dusty sheet of rock.

Hours at the hospital had only increased, and Scully spent more time cat-napping in the on-call room than she did at home, whilst Mulder’s office had become a heat sink, impossible to spend any time in there, so he’d taken to finding any inch of shade he could outside and reading articles on his laptop. Occasionally, he’d stroll through the woods behind the house, where the redwoods cast deep shadows, or he’d plunge himself into the warm pond towards the edge of the property. Each night, he’d make a salad and wait to see if Scully would be joining him. He understood, of course, that she was needed there, and that she was saving lives – hadn’t he once used those same justifications – but it didn’t stop the creeping loneliness from pervading every moment of his day, didn’t stop him from sulking when she did come home, too tired to engage him in the fights he was so often spoiling for.

And Scully could see it, this depression that had sunken over him. Of course, she could. There was no refuting how hard his isolation was on him. Saving lives wasn’t enough when the one person she wanted to save was slipping away.

So, she took an evening off. Left the hospital early and showered whilst he was still out on a walk, surprised him when he climbed up the porch with a tender kiss and a bouquet of roses, a whispered, ‘go on a date with me?’

He gives a bemused nod and allows her to drag him up to the shower, washes away the heat of the day. Her surgeon’s fingers massage shampoo into his hair and ease away the confusion he felt at having her home so early.

She packs the car whilst he’s dressing, blankets and warm coats and the food she’d picked up on her way home. By the time she’s slammed the trunk closed, he’s stood on the porch, all scratchy beard and slicked back hair, a flannel shirt and dark jeans, looking like the scrubbed-clean wild-man he is at heart.

They drive for three hours, across state lines, watching the amber sun set the sky alight with candyfloss pinks and satin purples as it sank below the horizon. Each time he asked where they were headed she evaded his questions, told him to let the mystery wash over his brain, told him patience is a virtue, and each time he murmured about there being enough mysteries in the world, and how he could be virtuous later.

Dusk had settled by the time they pulled into the little car park, and most of the day’s crowd seemed to be packing up and heading home. With the sun dipped beyond view, a chill breeze cooled the air, and Scully was grateful for the forethought to pack coats.

The air was atang with salt and iodine and each gust of the gentle breeze carried scents at once intriguing, inviting and nose-wrinkling. Beyond a low, grassy bluff, waves crashed upon the shore, and just a short trot down a worn path had them sinking their toes into soft sand.

‘Y’know, most people reserve beach dates for the daytime,’ he teased, no bite discernible in his tone.

‘With weather like we had today, that would have been truly stupid. There’s no shade, no fresh water; heat stroke would have only been inevitable.’

‘See, this is why I like you, Scully: you’re the life of the party.’

‘At least I could keep you alive at a party, Mulder. Anyway, we’re not really here for the sea.’

‘Right,’ he murmured sceptically as he helped her lay out the blanket, ‘you know that’s kind of one of the main attractions at the beach? Sun, sea, sand, you in a dinky little two-piece.’

‘That’s a no-go on the two-piece. There’s something else we’re here for.’ She folded herself carefully onto the blanket and smiled as Mulder plonked himself down next to her. A rummage in a carrier bag produced two pre-packaged sandwiches and a pasta salad to share.

‘Gas-station picnic? And I thought romance was dead.’ It was something they’d done whilst travelling on the bureau’s dime when they’d been denied their request for airplane tickets and had instead taken a pool car out on their adventures. They’d find an overlook and whatever gas-station food they could rustle up and watch the world go by as they ate; their way of seeing a little bit of beauty in a life that was so often filled with violence and horror.

Two iced teas – lemon for him and peach for her – were brought out, along with a punnet of strawberries and a jar of Nutella, by the time the brightest stars were studding the velvet darkness.

‘Lay back, Mulder.’

He did so, linking his hand with hers when she followed, ‘what am I looking for?’

‘Is it not enough just to see the stars?’

‘He barked out a laugh, ‘Scully, if you wanted to stargaze, we would have done so in the back garden.’

She hummed, conceding, and murmured, ‘just wait.’

It didn’t take long, a bright streak falling across the sky, leaving behind a trail of glittering stardust that flickered out in its wake. About a minute later another two tumbled through the stars.

‘The Perseid meteor shower. It happens every year between July and September, but it always peaks during early to mid-August. This year, it peaks tonight.’

Another bright trail crossed their vision. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he whispered.

‘Mm. Our little rock, hurtling its way around the sun, is colliding with the tail of the Swift-Tuttle comet. It happens every year. The whole universe is perfectly aligned so we miss the comet and get the light show instead. It makes you think how small we really are, doesn’t it?’

‘Must be fate,’ he smiled, rolling his head to look at her.

‘Physics, Mulder.’

His smile widened and he pressed a kiss to her cheek, ‘so, taking everything we’ve seen into account, and your perfectly timed physics, what do you say? Do you believe in the existence of extra-terrestrials?’

‘Logically,’ she grinned, ‘I’m yet to come to a satisfying conclusion on the matter.’

He chuckled and they lapsed into silence as they watched the stars glitter and the occasional meteor burn up through the atmosphere.

‘Frank Drake,’ she said quietly, voice barely louder than the waves crashing on the sand.

‘Pirate?’

‘Privateer. And no, that was Francis Drake. Frank Drake is an astrophysicist. In 1961 he devised an equation to estimate the potential number of intelligent civilisations in the galaxy.’

‘Yeah? And how many does he say there are out there?’

‘Well, that’s the problem,’ she murmured softly, ‘there isn’t an answer. The equation itself relies upon estimations, so the number can be wildly high or next to nothing.’

‘Not a particularly useful calculation then.’

‘It wasn’t meant to be. He created it as a discussion started for the first SETI meeting. I’m actually somewhat surprised you’ve never heard of it.’

‘That’s why I keep you around, Scully. You teach me all the things I never knew. No need for encyclopaedias or Google with you nearby.’ She gives his hand a squeeze before pointing up at another shooting star. ‘So, why are you thinking about Mr Drake and his equation?’

‘I was thinking it’s a good metaphor for us. Given the same question, we each come up with a different answer, yet neither of them is wrong.’

‘I like that.’

‘Mm. I think it’s why we work so well together. And why, when things go wrong, they go really wrong.’

‘Are you telling me, Scully, that you’re trying to create a formula for our relationship?’

She gives a shy, noncommittal shrug, ‘was just something I was thinking about.’

‘The Scully Equation.’

‘No. No, if it were to be a thing, which it is not, I wouldn’t name it after me.’

‘The Perseid Equation, then.’

She smiled softly at him and brought his hand to her mouth to kiss, ‘I like it. The Perseid Equation: a formulaic understanding of partnership.’

‘Sounds good. Just promise me when you write the thesis you’ll give me naming credits.’

Tagging @today-in-fic

#my writing #txf #xf fanfic #msr #pre-IWTB #the x files #x files #stargazing #date nights #I handwrote this in my tent under a tiny little dim light after laying out watching the perseid meteor shower #fun fact: I have the drake equation tattoed on my wrist

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