From: frogdoggie Date: 19 Mar 2003 11:22:05 -0800 Subject: NEW: Time and Tide NC-17 Skinnerfic (1/1) Source: atxc TITLE: Time and Tide (Part 1 of 1 parts) NAME: frogdoggie E-MAIL: frogdoggie@hotmail.com CATEGORY: VRA RATING: NC-17. Skinner/Sharon. M/SC/SK friendship. This vignette contains explicit het sex. Forewarned is forearmed. SUMMARY: Time and tide wait for no man and sometimes we have to decide what's really important in the end. Want to read more of my fic? Then surf here: http://www.squidge.org/3wstop FEEDBACK - YES PLEASE, AND THANK YOU SIR, CAN I HAVE ANOTHER? Comments, suggestions and healthy debate are always welcome. Flames? They only serve to warm my body and mind. ARCHIVE: Sure. Anywhere - as long as my name and e-mail addy stay on it. TIMESPAN/SPOILER WARNING: Sometime after Requiem, but this is an alternate canon story - S8 and S9 didn't exist. Some spoilers for Avatar. KEYWORDS: vignette romance angst Skinner Sharon Mulder Scully NC-17 DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Walter Skinner, Dana Scully, Sharon Skinner and all other X-Files characters belong to Chris Carter, Ten-Thirteen Productions and 20th Century FOX Broadcasting. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from their use. *Author's notes: This vignette was written in response to a Beyond the Sea picture challenge. Thanks to Toniann, the list owner for supplying the photo that inspired us. You can see it at http://www.squidge.org/3wstop at the top of the vignette. Time and Tide by frogdoggie He remembered her red coat. Well, not this red coat, precisely - rather *a* red coat. She'd had a red coat - Christ - five years ago. He noticed that red still suited her - something he hadn't contemplated when she wore that other coat in 1996. Her house and art studio were on the beach. The early morning Maine coast mist was heavy as they picked their way carefully over the rocks. The surf pounding in his ears contrasted against their silent traverse of the slick antediluvian stones. The damp played havoc with his reminders of a battle in a steamy jungle years ago. He stumbled. She was surer footed and forged ahead. He thought about the changes in her life as he regained his footing. She'd regained her footing in life - finding new meaning by avoiding the glass ceiling altogether and opting for a fresh career. She painted - had gallery shows, endeared herself to the artistic elite of this neck of New England. Something in her new passion spoke to him, prompted him to seek her out - prompted him to walk in silence with her on this rocky beach and wait for providence to take it's course. She stepped over a tidal pool, glanced only briefly at it before moving on. His foot hesitated at the lip and he stared down into the perfect little water world below his toe. A starfish, crusty beige settled against a spiny sea urchin, it's questing tentacles a deadly imitation of a lover's embrace. He watched as it probed, tested and then breached the sea urchins defenses - only one thing on it's mind. Eat or be eaten. He was relieved when he shuddered at the image. He was relieved because it meant he was capable of feeling fear for the grotesque irony of that image and how it might portend the future for them all. He wanted to reach down and scoop up the sea urchin. Reach down, pick it up and deposit it in some secluded safer pool where it could eat, shit, breed and live out it's life in peace. But he recognized the way of the world and knew that no matter what the Bible said - the meek did not inherit the Earth. Only the strong survived. And he had to hope to hell they were all strong enough to do so. He stepped over the tidal pool and walked on, finally catching up to her. She'd turned and waited patiently for him. When he drew near she spoke, her voice loud over the crashing waves. "Walter, what are we doing here?" Sharon asked. "Or more to the point - what are you doing here?" Walter Skinner knew why he was here. He just didn't have a clue how to make his ex-wife understand the reason. He flexed his jaw and stared off over the sand that bordered the rocks. "Ok, I didn't come up here strictly for the gallery opening," he murmured. "I already figured that out," she replied. Her voice wasn't devoid of amusement and its tone drew his attention again. Sharon stood with her arms crossed and a wry eyebrow raised in expectation. He studied her face, pursing his lips in a desperate search for the right conversational opening. But nothing came and instead he reached impulsively forward and tucked strands of damp hair back behind her ear. Her face felt chilly beneath the Maine mist's kiss. There was a lull in the thundering surf as he replied. "You're cold, let's go back to the house and...and I'll explain then," he said. She stared into the fogged lenses of his glasses. Her forehead wrinkled and then smoothed. She reached up and took his hand, clasping it tenderly in her long elegant fingers. "All right," she replied. They headed back up the beach. He wasn't surprised when they made love. The way she'd held his hand and pressed against him on their return from the rocks signaled a renewed desire for some kind of intimacy even if it was only the intimacy of a personal revelation. Besides - they'd always fucked first and talked later. So he wasn't shocked when even now they fell back on old habits. But this wasn't the urgent, heated pounding sex that followed so many of their angry pre-divorce moments. It was the languid, rainy day sex they'd so often had at the beginning of their relationship when things were pure and good. When he felt clean despite what had happened in the war. As he thrust into her, came into her, he convinced himself that they could do this again because he'd made a change in his life as well. He felt clean again. His life epiphany had mirrored hers and as she moaned and writhed beneath him there was hope that everything would turn out well in the end. But afterward, when Sharon lay in his arms and Skinner looked into her eyes all he could see was Mulder and Scully. Some epiphanies were double-edged swords, he thought. And this sword was the sword of Damocles. Sharon stroked his cheek. "Penny for your thoughts," she said. He lowered his eyes to her face. "Do you really want to know?" he murmured. "Yes." "All right," he said. And then he told her everything. -The End-