Note: Rivergem brought up an interesting point, why aren't Mulder and Scully acting/thinking like a couple? That is a very good question. o_O Let me think of an excuse. Until then, chapter three! *sings*
Disclaimer: Don't own Our Final Hour/Our Final Century, or the X-Files, or Greenwich, yadda yadda.
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September 20, 2003
Train to London from Gatwick Airport
12:00 PM UTC
Scully's head nodded as the train sped along age-old tracks, catching up on much-needed sleep she hadn't gotten on the flight.
Before, I could only trust myself. Now, I can only trust you... and they've taken you away from me.
Mulder shook his head slowly, clearing his mind. Now where had that come from? That'd been nearly a decade ago…He winced, realizing how long he'd spent on his quest, only to find that all the time he had spent might as well have been a waste. What could he have been doing in those years? His mind drifted, his body swaying with the movements of the train. His reverie was disturbed by the occasional cough or sneeze, but was only broken by a sudden jerk as the train, which had just started to leave the platform, stopped, and two people jumped on. A minute later, the conductor came over the intercom.
"I would just like to thank the two idiots who just jumped on the train at the last minute, causing other passengers who were already on the train to fall down."
Mulder chuckled, then began to laugh. Scully had woken with the jerk and not missed a single word of the "thanks" bestowed upon the late passengers.
She combed through her hair with her fingers, mumbling just loud enough for him to hear. "I think I like England."
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September 20, 2003
Underground
2:15 PM
After trying and failing four times, Scully and Mulder finally managed to get on the correct tube train to their hotel. It wasn't much, but they were traveling on a tight budget – the exchange rate wasn't exactly working in their favor. All through the underground ride, Mulder was trying to think of a way to tell Scully about their hotel rooms situation. Well, room might be more accurate. Finally, he settled on the direct approach.
"Scully, how would you react, if because of the fact that we are on a tight budget, and that we're no longer working in the Bureau, we had to, ah, share a hotel room?"
Scully stared, enjoying the fact that her gaze was making him squirm. She pretended to consider for several seconds before answering.
"I don't suppose this is hypothetical?"
He grinned sheepishly.
She finally relented and allowed her expression to soften.
"You get the couch."
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September 20, 2003
Jurys Inn London
"You know, Mulder, you don't have to sleep on the couch."
"Ah, so the guilt trip worked."
"No, I just got tired of all your noise."
Mulder had just spent the last five minutes rolling over, curling, squirming, and bouncing on the sofa, "trying to get comfortable." Considering how neither of them had gotten much sleep last night (five in the case of Scully and zero in Mulder's) she'd persuaded her partner to let them at least get a few hours of slumber. It hadn't been easy, considering the brevity of the situation, but she had managed it.
He bounced off the couch and onto the bed, making loud sounds of contentment as he snuggled against the pillow. She smacked his arm. At least it was a king size. She shuddered at the thought of sharing a double.
Shunning her shoes – she'd actually worn sneakers – she pushed Mulder over so that she could roll down the covers.
He started to say something she knew would end up eliciting at least a glare and at most a body slam and cut him off.
"Are you always like this when you don't get enough sleep?"
The lights flicked off.
"Yup."
Scully flopped on the bed, slipping under the covers and allowing herself to let out a sigh.
"G'night, Scully."
"Mulder, it's four o'clock in the afternoon." She could almost feel him grinning.
"G'night Scully."
Rolling her eyes, she settled into the bed. It was so soft, and warm, and quiet…She was just starting to doze off when she felt an arm drape around her waist, squeezing gently.
Despite both of their intentions, they slept through the night.
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September 21, 2003
Greenwich, England
8:00 AM
The view was enough to startle her. Stretched before her was a gently dipping path, bordered on both sides by great maple trees, leading to an observatory at the top of a too-steep, spiraling path. Mulder stopped beside her, appreciating the site before resting his hand on her back and walking forward. Per norm, the hand soon dropped away.
It took nearly fifteen minutes to reach the top of the path, the observatory to their right. Their breath emerged in puffs the same color as the sky. Rain began to drizzle, staining her jacket.
"Inside?" She said, breathlessly. She really needed to exercise more.
He nodded. "Inside."
There was small gift shop located inside, and beyond that the miniature museum.
Scully hesitated, some innate sense telling her to actually look in the gift shop rather than walking straight through the museum.
She stepped in carefully, as if tiptoeing into a dragon's den.
"What is it, Scully?"
She shrugged, walking past the various time gadgets. Pocket watches, wrist watches, ranging in price from about 20 pounds to several thousand. The agent came to a stop in front of a book written by Martin Rees. She picked up the hardcover, handing it to Mulder. Emblazoned on the flaming planet was the title in ominous futuristic type. Our Final Century.
Scully picked up her own copy and began to flip through it, stopping at the 'About the Author' page.
"Martin Rees is Professor of Cosmology and Astrophysics and Master of Trinity College at the University of Cambridge…says here that he was born in York, June 23, 1942…"
Mulder was skimming the pages, spending no more than five seconds on each one.
"This has to mean something, Scully…"
"That someone shares the same morbid opinion as you?"
"No, there's nothing in here about aliens…I don't see anything about global conspiracies…"
"Maybe it's just a coincidence, did you ever consider that?"
He mumbled under his breath, meaning for her to hear. "There's no such thing as coincidence…"
"Cambridge?"
"Yeah…Mulder, what is it?"
Her partner had gone oddly silent, piecing together information in his head that most people would consider unrelated.
"We need to go to the University of Cambridge."
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Sorry if my descriptions of the Greenwich observatory are a little off, I didn't make an overwhelming effort to remember the order in which the museum and the gift shop was arranged. =p Sorry it took so long for this installment, hehe. I need to start the next one, too.