Archive: Yes to allslash & Archive/X, all others please ask.
Title: Of Time and Tides
Author: Merri-Todd Webster
Series/Fandom: X-Files
Pairing: WMM/K (very gently implied)
Rating: PG
Feedback Address: lonchura@yahoo.com
Website:
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/Cafe/8298/titles.html Warnings & Spoilers: Very general spoilers for the overall arc of the show. No warnings.
Disclaimer: Not mine, not to us be the glory. Comments: Another in the Cornerstone Series (WMM/K), mirroring "Remembrance of Things Past" by MJ. I realized I'd been very remiss in posting stuff here (mostly on account of being too lazy to set up the *&%$#@! header), so you'll be seeing a lot of stuff from me this week. This is only barely slashy, but I promise, I have much more NC-17 material to offer you.
:)
Thanks to: MJ, Kass, and JiM for beta, to MJ for being my co-author on this series, and to JiM for the title.

Of Time and Tides
by Merri-Todd Webster
(26 May 1999)


You know, he has no idea that I remember him as a boy. He certainly does not remember me from those days. I wonder if he remembers at all those winters in Myrtle Beach--such a warm place, too hot even in winter for an Englishman like myself. Yet in those days it was a pleasant little town not completely ruined by its tourism, by the inevitable exploitation of its quite beautiful beaches. Yes, I remember, too, the little vendor near our compound, the hotdogs and pretzels and caramel corn. I once bought your Sascha a bag of the caramel corn--he ate it all by himself and was so ill, do you remember?

In any case, I remember him well. A stocky little boy with darkly tanned skin, brown hair lightened by the sun, and those same astonishing green eyes. Even then those eyes were like a fire; he could stare down adults who had no idea why they should be intimidated by this little boy who spoke more languages than they did. He was quite beautiful, a wild boy who ran faster and
wrestled harder and shouted more loudly than anyone, but very intelligent, unmistakably intelligent, and deeply fond of his family. Oh, I don't think there was another family so close as yours at Myrtle Beach. I think that's what attracted Teena Mulder and her children to you and yours, my dear--the happiness you shared as a family, as open and as ordinary as the sunshine. And the respect, as well as love, which you and Oleg shared with one another. How I still miss those chess games with your husband. And I am still sorry that you and Elisabeth never had a chance to meet, but by 1972, she and I had lived apart for many years. People would have talked about our closeness as they did about Teena's estrangement from Bill Mulder. Neither situation would have seemed right.

I used to watch them running on the beach, little Sascha, as you called him, at the end of the line, after the older children. He was only, what... six? seven? Ahead of him, Samantha Mulder, her long braids swinging, and the longer-legged Tatiana--what an exquisite girl she was, and is--and in the lead, Fox Mulder. Fox Mulder. He was twelve or fourteen, just old enough to pique my... interest, although of course I never behaved with any hint of impropriety. Still, I couldn't help noticing how handsome he was and how little attention his parents paid him. He was wild as a weed, wild in a different way than your little Kubla Khan. He and Samantha were both very fond of you, you know. Oh, yes, I remember. And Sascha was terribly fond of Fox Mulder. He was only half Mulder's age then, yet he would follow him anywhere on those short sturdy legs, even into the water. Odd that Sascha, so strong and graceful on land, all but sank like a stone in the water. I saw those four children playing together, many times. If not for Tatiana's willingness to play with him, carrying him into the waves, dancing with him, dunking him now and again as older sisters must, as my older sister did to me, he might not have gone near the water. He might not have gone near the water if his beloved Fox had not been such a dedicated swimmer.

I was not on the beach that day when the wave swept little
Sascha Krycek away, into the Atlantic, and Fox Mulder rescued him. As you may recall, I went to the beach very
rarely; I preferred the English coastlines, harsh, rocky, wild,
austere. Myrtle Beach was too tame. But I heard of it briefly
from you, at the time, and then Teena told me about it herself, many years later. I'm not sure why. It is, indeed,
ironic that the same boy who rescued Alex, once, has tried
so many times since then to kill him. Alex has told me
himself that Mulder believes Alex means to kill him. If he only knew how many times he's repaid that debt, how often Alex has saved *his* life.... Or what a favor he did Fox, as well as the rest of us, by killing that oaf, Bill Mulder.

Well, it's been good to see you again, my dear. Yes, I expect Alex back around the twenty-fifth; this house is his, you know. I'm quite comfortable here. And he is quite safe. He does not know that I have watched him since he was a little boy, that his parents were my
dear friends, that I maintain contact with you even now, and that I know he has always loved Fox Mulder. That I knew he loved Fox long before he knew it himself.

Your little Sascha is my dearest companion, the inheritor
of my work. He sits on the porch with me, often, and looks
at the lake. He will never go swimming again, but it doesn't matter.

***



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