Summary: "Here was a Caesar! When comes such another?" Julius Caesar, act III, scene 2. Walter/Sharon, pre-XF, Guilty Pleasure Challenge fic.

Happy new year everybody. Hurt/comfort of all kinds is my guilty
pleasure and Walter/Sharon my favorite pair, so here's a mild one.

Title: A Glimpse of Love Forever
Author: Rev. Anna Send feedback to
ataylorsweringen@yahoo.com
Classification: VR
Rating: G
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Skinner/Sharon, pre-X-file
Disclaimer: Sharon and Walter Skinner belong to 1013
productions. Everyone else is mine.
Summary: "Here was a Caesar! When comes such
another?" Julius Caesar, act III, scene 2.

June 30, 1977

I wish I were dead. Why did I think this was a good
idea? What did I hope to accomplish?

"Are you under the mistaken impression that marrying
my daughter makes up for the fornication the two of
you have been engaging in?" my father asks.

It's obvious from the way Walter pauses before he
responds that he has had quite enough of my father.
Yet when he answers him there isn't a hint of contempt
in his voice or a trace of derision in his words. His
tone is respectful and measured. He unbuttons his
jacket before answering simply and without rancor.

"No."

The ensuing silence is deafening. My father is
glaring, nostrils flaring like a bull ready to charge,
but Walter is neither cowed nor impressed. He merely
sits quietly and waits for the next salvo. He looks
over at me and gives me a smile that makes me fall in
love with him all over again. I sigh. My hero.

I look over at my father and instantly lose the peace
Walter's smile has just instilled in me. For pity's
sake! What's wrong with me? I'm twenty-six years old,
been living on my own and earning my own living since
I was nineteen, haven't been home since my aunt's
funeral in 1972 and yet back in my father's presence
barely two hours and I'm reduced to some demoralized
adolescent with no sense of self or self-worth.

"Marriage will not restore Sharon's good name, sir,"
my father insists trying again to get a rise out of
Walter. But he fails again.

"I'm not marrying her to restore her reputation."

"Well you should. You owe her that much," my father
snaps.

Walter doesn't answer. He just waits, unperturbed by
the silence that is wringing me out like a wet
dishtowel. I look at my mother now, sitting behind
her husband, frightened, her hands nervously clasping
and unclasping as if she were trying to wash them
clean with some invisible soap. Quite unlike the
woman she was three hours ago when it was just she,
Walter and I. Full of convivial chatter, full of
energy.

"I'm a real Pearl Mesta," she said, as she plied us
with assorted hors d'oeuvres. "I don't suppose you
know who she was. Maybe I should have said Martha
Stewart."

"The hostess with the mostest on the ball," Walter
sang, causing a delighted smile to appear on my
mother's face. "Ethel Merman modeled her character
from Call Me Madam on her, right?"

"It was my favorite musical," my mother said offering
Walter a glass of cranberry juice.

That conversation seemed an eternity ago. A slice of
heaven before my father's hell fire and brimstone
began to rain down on us. Does Walter still want to
be a part of my family? I look back to him for
reassurance and find it. My father's voice breaks the
silence.

"So just why are you marrying her then?"

"I love her and I want to spend the rest of my life
with her."

"Of course you love her. Why else do people marry if
not for love?"

I cringe at the nervous titter I hear in my mother's
voice. She sounds so exasperatingly pathetic. But
not to Walter. When he looks at her there isn't a
glimmer of condescension or a trace of ridicule in his
gaze. His voice is full of affection and he looks
totally in love with her.

"I'm afraid there are a lot of awful reasons why
people get married, Mrs. Washaw. But you don't have
to worry where Sharon and I are concerned. We're both
very much in love."

"Lillian," she says, basking in his attention. "Call
me Lillian."

"Lillian."

He says her name with sincere delight. If I didn't
know why I love Walter Skinner before today, I know
why now.

"The heat of lust is not love, young man, no matter
how you dress it up or what you call it."

My father then turns his withering stare on me.

"And the bad habits of your youth won't go away
overnight just because you put on a wedding band."

Whatever inner calm Walter has to brave this storm is
nowhere in me.

"Why can't you just be happy for me?" I cry, totally
beaten down by my father's disgusting and demeaning
hectoring.

"Happy for you? I'm ashamed for you. You're living
in sin! Now you want me to accept the man who has
corrupted you as a suitable mate. Marriage is no
answer for this disgrace, Sharon. You must repent.
Resist the devil and he will flee from you."

"I can't listen to this anymore," I gasp, running from
the room in tears.

I hear my mother call my name but my father orders her
to be quiet. I let the door slam behind me and don't
stop running until I reach Walter's rental car. I
slump down against it there in the drive, putting my
head between my legs. I have to breathe through my
mouth to get enough air in my lungs.

I hear the front door open and look up to see Walter
apologizing to my mother.

"Lillian, I'm sorry I won't be able to meet your two
sons and their families tomorrow. But I'm sure you
can see it's impossible."

"With God, all things are possible," she says as she
holds onto him. I can hear the desperation in her
voice. "Faith the size of a piece of a mustard seed
can move mountains. All kinds of mountains."

She looks back over her shoulder into the house where
my father is. I watch Walter place his hands gently
on her shoulders and turn her back to him.

"I can see you have that mustard seed faith, Lillian.
Pray that someday I develop that kind of faith too."

He plants a kiss on her cheek.

"Thank you for making me feel welcome."

Then without another word he comes over, squats down
in front of me and touches my hand. I burst into
tears and throw my arms around his neck.

"You were so wonderful in there," I sob. "I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry I put you through this."

"Don't pin the merit badge on me yet. Believe me, if
you and your mother hadn't been present, a whole other
scene would have played out between your father and I.
It still may one day."

"I don't know how you were able to do it."

A wonderfully soft and loving gleam lights up his eye
as he answers me.

"It's easy when you're grateful. And I am."

"Grateful? I don't understand."

"You're the proof of their love," he says. "They may
be out of touch with the love that created you, but I
see it every time I look at you, touch you, hear your
voice. If it weren't for them, I wouldn't have you."

"Oh Walter. I'll love you forever."

"That's the plan, Stan."

He helps me into the car and then gets in the driver's
seat. There's a mischievous gleam in his eye and a
deliciously wicked smile on his lips.

"Now, how's about I take you back to our motel room
and corrupt you some more with my hot lust-filled love
making?"

What a man! When comes such another? I have to laugh
even though my heart is broken. I rest my head on his
shoulder as he starts the car and we pull away. It'll
take a lot to make me ever leave this man. These
little glimpses into his heart and soul show me why I
love him now and always will.

End