Summary: A present day situation takes Sharon back to some painful past experiences where even Walter's love has a hard time reaching her. Skinner/Sharon, NC17.

Title: A Test of Love Forever
Author: Rev. Anna Send feedback to ataylorsweringen@yahoo.com
Classification: SR
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Skinner/Sharon, pre X-file
Disclaimer: Sharon and Walter Skinner belong to 1013 productions.
Everyone else belongs to me. Something to Live For was written by
Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington.
Summary: A present day situation takes Sharon back to some painful
past experiences where even Walter's love has a hard time reaching her

A Test of Love Forever (1/4)
by Rev. Anna

Saturday. August. 11:59 PM.

One minute to midnight.

Sharon squatted behind her mother's heliotrope for a good twenty
minutes, watching the minute hand on her wristwatch creep toward
midnight.

"You're to be in this house by midnight young lady and not a second
later!" her father had ordered.

"Not a second later and not a second earlier," she had responded.

"Biting the hand that feeds you only results in starvation, sister!"

Every night that week Sharon arrived home early and purposely hid
behind the heliotrope, letting the minutes click by until her curfew
approached. Once in a while she was treated to the sight of her
father coming out onto the back porch, checking his watch and angrily
scanning the road, looking nothing like the forgiving father
searching for the prodigal son.

Tonight her father had stepped out onto the porch more furious than
usual. Her mother had appeared behind him, more agitated than usual.

"Malcolm, I don't understand why you're so exercised. She's made her
curfew for a whole month right on the stroke of twelve. Doesn't that
say something?"

"It says she whores up to the very last minute. I'm telling you now
Lillian this power struggle ends tonight!"

He stormed his way back into the house leaving his wife on the porch.

"Oh Lord," Sharon had heard her mother pray. "Let Sharon come in
early tonight. Please."

Her mother had come out on the porch and prayed that same prayer
every night. Sharon shook her head disgustedly.

"When are you going to wise up, mom? God doesn't answer prayer. Not
the prayers of women anyway."

She dug her heels into the dirt at the base of the bush determined
more than ever to come in one second before twelve as she watched her
mother go back in.

As the second hand on her watch beat the final countdown, Sharon
sauntered up the porch steps and across the porch, pulled open the
door and heard the last of the Westminster chimes of the grandfather
clock in the hallway. Her father sat at the head of the table,
glaring at her as she stepped into the kitchen.

"Sit down," he hissed, his hand beating out an angry tattoo in time
to the twelve strikes of the clock.

She pulled up her usual chair on his right and just gazed back into
his glare, waiting for the inquisition to being.

"Where have you been?"

"First the library. Then to a movie. Then to the lake."

"With whom?"

"Tonight I was with Randall Cheatham."

"And last night Roger Phillips and the night before Lionel Standish
and the night before Mark Walker. Who'll be on you tonight?"

"Tonight is Sunday. And like the Lord, on the seventh day I take my
rest."

Rev. Washaw slammed his fists down on the table causing it to jump.
Sharon swallowed and took a deep breath as her father rose up to his
full height.

"Sharon, your behavior is an open scandal in the congregation!" he
shouted. "As if it weren't bad enough that you spread your legs for
these boys, you then turn around and taunt and humiliate them for it!"

"I only offer them one bite of the apple, " the seventeen year old
answered, shrugging indifferently. "They're the ones who keep
begging for seconds."

"Whoring around is not going to cure what ails you!"

"So what should I do? Cut myself in secret like Marietta Johnson?
Or keep taking too many sleeping pills by mistake like Donna Harris?"

"Don't you put yourself in the same category as those sick girls.
You have more intelligence than they! Your will is stronger! You're
supposed to set a good example!"

"All right. I'll sit them down today at coffee hour and have a talk
with them. I'm sure I can convince them that fucking beats suicide
and self-mutilation any day."

The first slap snapped Sharon's seventeen year old head back with
such force she had to grab hold of the table to keep from falling out
of her chair. The second followed immediately and sent her sprawling
to the floor. The sound of it brought her mother running into the
kitchen.

"I didn't give you permission to come in here!" Rev. Washaw shouted,
towering over his wife and daughter.

"Malcolm stop this now!" Lillian Washaw cried, taking her daughter
into her arms, using her apron to wipe the blood from Sharon's nose.

"I've had enough of this behavior," he shouted, pointing an angry
finger at Sharon. "And I'm going to make it stop if it's the last
thing I do on earth."

"Stop blaming her!" his wife cried. "You brought that spawn of Satan
among us. You know he's responsible for what these girls are doing
to themselves!"

"Is he controlling them from beyond the grave? In case you hadn't
noticed, he's dead!"

Rev. Washaw turned his attention back to Sharon.

"Get upstairs now! From this day forward you go three places and
three places only: home, school and church. And in case you need it
spelled out for you, this means you are grounded!"

"Go ahead and ground me. See if it makes any difference!" she
cried. "You can't keep me locked up forever!"

"Oh no? Well, we'll just see about that!" he shouted, reaching for
her. "I'll lock you up and tie you up if that's what it takes to
make you stay put!"

"No, Malcolm! Please!" her mother shouted, turning her back on him
as she pushed herself between her husband and her daughter.

"Get back damn you!" he snapped, grabbing his wife by the back of her
neck and jerking her away from Sharon. "I've had enough of you
coddling her and making excuses for this disgusting behavior!"

"My behavior is no more disgusting than anyone else's!" Sharon
screamed and tried to scramble away as her father grabbed her arm.

"You're going to straighten up young lady or it's reform school for
you!"

"Go ahead! Send me away!" Sharon shouted, trying to free herself
from her father's grasp. "I don't care!"

"Before I'm through with you, you will care!"

"No! I won't let you!" his wife shouted, trying to free her
daughter. "I won't let you!"

"Don't give me orders woman!" Washaw snapped, shoving his wife out of
the way. "I run this house!"

Rev. Washaw dragged Sharon up the back stairs to the bathroom. He
pushed her inside and locked the door behind them.

"Get on your knees and do something constructive with your mouth for
a change! Pray to God for forgiveness! For a change of heart! I
swear you won't be leaving this house until you repent!"

"I'll run away again and this time I won't be brought back!"

"And where do you think you can run that you still won't have to face
the truth about your deviant sexual tastes?"

Her father gripped her hair and glared at her.

"We are tempted by our own desires! If you had let the word of God
take root in you, James Foster could have never gotten near you.
Whatever happened between you and him, you wanted to happen."

"That's not true!" Sharon shouted, trying to claw her way to
door. "That's not true!"

"It is true! A heated unbridled lust fuels all your rebelliousness!
Always has and always will."

He hauled her over to the tub and forced her to step inside.

"Only the freezing waters of grace will cleanse you from your
unrighteousness!"

Despite her squirming and screaming, he held her easily beneath the
showerhead, flipped the valve that activated it then turned on the
cold water full force.

"Pray to God for forgiveness, Sharon! Call on Jesus to make you
clean!"

"Oh God," she screamed. "Please let me die. Just let me die!"

"Pray Sharon! For God's sake pray!"

Sharon just screamed until, finally exhausted and defeated, she
couldn't anymore. She stood limp sobbing in her father's arms until
he let her go. She slumped down in the tub, her face against the
wall as the water from the shower continued to hit her.

"You're bad through and through," he said, his tone one of disgusted
sadness.

"I'm not bad," Sharon cried softly, turning over in bed onto her
back, tears beginning to slip from her closed eyes.

"Sharon . . . "

"I'm not -- I'm not bad."

"Sharon, wake up."

The voice was soft, concerned. A hand rested on her shoulder,
shaking her gently, finally waking her.

Sharon came to, trembling, unsure of where she was. She looked
around and became more panicked.

"Wh--where am I?"

"Home. With me."

She looked hard in the direction of the voice. Slowly she recognized
the eyes. The smile.

Walter.

She gripped his arms and pressed her face into his chest.

"Same nightmare?" he asked, taking her in his arms, listening to her
painful sobs.

She nodded yes.

"Want to tell me about it?" he asked.

Not that she had to. She had been having the same nightmare on and
off for three months now. At first she denied it, but finally last
month she broke down and told him how her father blamed her for what
happened to her with James Foster.

He pulled her closer remembering the afternoon of her mother's
funeral when she told him of being raped by her father's seminarian.
A man she had trusted. A man she thought cared about her.

He remembered when he got his first look at James Foster. It had
been the first year they were married. He and Sharon had gone to
share Thanksgiving with her twin brother Stanley and his family.
While looking through an old family album, Walter had come across an
old photo of the church youth group on a mission trip.

"Who's this?" he asked, peering at the photo.

"James Foster," Stanley said. "He was my father's seminarian for a
year."

"Where is he now?"

"Died in a hunting accident about a year or two after that picture
was taken."

Walter closed his eyes and put his attention back on Sharon.

"What brought this on?"

"Tonight's wedding rehearsal.'

"Wallace."

"Yes," she cried.

Now it all made sense. Wallace Michaels, the best man for tomorrow's
wedding, looked exactly like Foster.

"How about I make you a hot toddy to help you get back to sleep?" he
asked.

She nodded yes, eyes still closed, finding comfort in the feel of
him, the smell of him.

"Back in a second," he said, kissing her nose then leaving the room.


Sharon drew her knees up against her chest as she watched him leave,
trembling as her father's awful words swirled around her in the
absence of Walter's protective presence.

"We are tempted by our own desires! If you had let the word of God
take root in you, James Foster could have never gotten near you.
Whatever happened between you and him, you wanted to happen."

James Foster.

She shuddered as memory brought him back to life. Five feet ten.
Built like an Olympic runner. His long red hair getting in his soft
green eyes. The seductive laugh that always ended his sentences.
The compliments. The attention. She thought he loved her.

Walter returned just then with a warm smile and a warm mug. He
looked at Sharon, hunched up with her chin resting on her knees,
looking like a frightened little girl.

"Careful," he cautioned, pressing the mug into her hands.

As he tucked the covers around his wife, he wondered if his patience
hadn't done her a disservice. He had always thought he was a patient
man. It made him slow, deliberate, able to analyze, evaluate and
discern. His patience kept him from making snap judgments, kept him
open minded. On the job it proved a valuable asset, but perhaps if
he hadn't been so patient about this.if he had insisted that she
continue her sessions with Dr. Hartley, maybe she wouldn't be going
through all this now.

Sharon sipped the drink carefully and slowly until the contents were
all gone. She snuggled against him as Walter took the mug from her
hands.

"You really need to be talking to someone about all this,
sweetheart," he said, setting the mug on the nightstand.

"You mean Dr. Hartley?"

He nodded.

"I met with Dr. Hartley when we were first married, Walter."

"Not for very long."

"I didn't like my sessions with her back then," she admitted, trying
not to hear her father's accusations as she made her confession.

"Please sweetheart," Walter said, wiping her tears away with his
thumb. "Please go see someone."

"Oh Walter, I don't want to talk about this now. Please don't make
me."

"Okay," he said, kissing her softly on her forehead. "So what are
you willing to talk about?"

"Milk," she said suddenly. "Let's talk about milk."

"Oh I get it," Skinner laughed, marveling at her resiliency. "Now
you want me to talk about my nightmares."

She looked into his eyes and found the love and assurance she needed.

"I love you Walter. Thank you for loving me,"

"What's not to love?" he asked, kissing her as she sighed. He let
her snuggle even more closely into the safety of his arms and soon
she was asleep in no time, safe from the hell of her nightmare for
the time being.

A Test of Love Forever (2/4)
Author: Rev. Anna
Send feedback to ataylorsweringen@yahoo.com
Classification: SR
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Skinner/Sharon, pre X-file
Disclaimer: Sharon and Walter Skinner belong to 1013 productions.
Everyone else belongs to me. Something to Live For was written by
Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington.
Summary: A present day situation takes Sharon back to some painful
past experiences where even Walter's love has a hard time reaching her

A Test of Love Forever (2/4)
Author: Rev. Anna

"Ladies and gentlemen will you please stand for the bridal party?"

Smiles and cheers accompanied the announcement as the bridesmaids
lined up outside with their respective groom's men to be introduced.

Sharon smoothed her hand down her side and gave the scalloped
neckline of her dress a little tug upwards. She glanced over at
Wallace Michaels, the best man, and rolled her eyes. He had stared
down at her breasts all through the ceremony and was still at it
now.

"Damn, I'd like to rub my face in your chest," Wallace said, leering
at Sharon.

"Success hasn't changed you one bit. You're still an asshole!"

"Do I make you uncomfortable, Sharon? I don't mean to," Wallace
smirked, running a finger along her shoulder. "You look so beautiful
in that blue silk dress. I just can't deny myself."

"If only you would deny yourself!" she answered, brushing his hand
away.

"And just what does that mean?"

"It means you never deny yourself. You'll always be taking what you
want when you want. That's the thesis of all your books, isn't it?"
Sharon asked.

"The latest one is six weeks on the New York Times bestseller list,"
he said, adjusting his bowtie as the names of the next couple was
announced. "Play your cards right, little lady and you might get a
taste of real love tonight."

"I get that every night with my husband. Thank you very much."

"I said real love -- the kind I'm sure Mr. FBI would never give you."

"How could you think that I would ever find real love with a man who
writes crap like "Domination: The True Path to Male Fulfillment?"

Wallace just laughed.

"My relationship with you was the inspiration for Domination."

Sharon closed her eyes and took a deep breath to remind herself why
she was here.

'Andrea's the best friend I've ever had. She stood up for me at my
wedding. Now I'm standing up for her.'

"You know, I still harbor hopes that you and I will find true love in
each other's arms."

"Don't make me vomit," Sharon laughed. "I only went out with you
because of Andie."

"We all tell ourselves little lies to hide from the truth," he said,
looking at her hungrily as he spoke. "The truth is you found me as
hot as I found you. The sex between us was always memorably wild,
enjoyably kinky and you couldn't get enough of it."

Wallace leaned into Sharon until he was just inches from her face and
whispered, "I still remember the heat of your tight little hole. And
no matter how loudly you protest, I know you haven't forgotten how
good I felt inside you."

Startled, Sharon found herself backed against a wall as Wallace stood
with his hands on either side of her, boxing her in.

"Move, Wallace," she hissed. She winced and turned her face to avoid
the alcohol on his breath "Now!"

He pulled back then moved in to kiss her. Sharon closed her eyes and
pushed back against Wallace's weight leaning into her.

"Dammit Wallace. Back off before I knee you!"

"Ooo. You never warned me before. It must be love!"

"Love?" she snapped angrily, pushing him off. "There was never love
between us. Only fucking! Now back off!"

"I told you he was drinking again!" Andrea said, hitting Wallace in
the back of the head with her bouquet.

"Damn you, Wallace!" Zack hissed, grabbing him by the collar and
jerking him backwards. "You have been drinking! You know no alcohol
is being served at our reception and you damn well know why. Now
hand it over!"

Wallace handed Zack a silver hip flask, the contents of which Zack
poured out in the nearest potted palm.

"Wallace, you're my brother and I love you," he said, holding his
brother by the upper arms and forcing him to look him in the
eye. "But if you do anything to make Andie kick your ass before this
reception is over, I'll hold you down myself and help her."

"Chill bro," Wallace insisted. "I won't do anything to spoil your
big day."

He gave a nod to Andrea, who was about ready to explode.

"Never fear Andie. I won't disgrace myself."

"You already have!" Andrea snapped, showering him with rose petals
and baby's breath as she smacked him again with her bouquet.

Just then the M.C.'s voice made the next announcement.

"The matron of honor, Mrs. Sharon Skinner and the best man, Mr.
Wallace Michaels."

Wallace took Sharon possessively by the arm and strode into the
reception hall. Sharon gritted her teeth and let herself be dragged
along to take their place at the head of the line formed inside.

As Andrea and Zack passed beneath the bridal bower formed by the
bridesmaids' bouquets and the groom's men's hands, Sharon's eyes
quickly scanned the crowd until she found Walter sitting at a family
table not far from the wedding party dais.

She noticed his smile fade when Wallace escorted her to the bridal
table by putting his arm around her waist and holding her tightly
against him. She watched Walter's mother pat his hand and whisper
something in his ear that made him nod then smile. Whatever it was
worked like a charm. He looked at her and smiled a genuine smile of
love. She relaxed and blew a kiss to him.

"Should I be jealous?" Wallace wheezed into her ear, leaning way too
close in her personal space.

Walter was frowning again. She smiled and waved to him then picked
up a salad fork and twirled it in her fingers.

"One inch closer and this'll be sticking out of your eye," she warned.

Wallace took it from her and tapped it against his glass, signaling
for the bride and groom to kiss.

Zack stood up, took Andrea in his arms, theatrically bent her
backwards and gave her a chaste little peck that elicited gales of
laughter and boos from the crowd of guests. Andrea turned the
tables, bent Zack backwards and tongue kissed him soundly, much to
the crowds' delight.

The reception moved on, more glass clinking, eating, the bride and
groom's first waltz, the best man's toast, the matron of honor's
toast, more eating, dancing, bouquet and garter throwing. Wallace
was going to the men's room quite often. Each time he came back,
Sharon found him crowding her more and more.

"What do you think Mr. FBI would do if I kissed you?" Wallace asked.

"Walter's a very neat man. I'm sure he'd feel compelled to clean up
what was left of you after I broke you into little pieces."

Wallace's arm found its way around Sharon's shoulder while his other
hand slipped under her dress and squeezed her thigh as it crept
toward her crotch.

"Well, let's just see, shall we?" he laughed, leaning in to take a
kiss.

Sharon picked up her fork and jabbed him hard on the back of the
offending hand. Startled, he yelped and leapt to his feet. With all
eyes now on him, he cleared his throat and motioned for everyone to
raise their glasses.

"I feel moved to make offer another toast," he slurred. He picked up
his glass and lifted it in the direction of the bride and groom. "To
the happiest odd couple since Felix Unger and Oscar Madison."

The crowd laughed and booed him.

Andrea turned to Sharon.

"Save the day, Washaw."

Sharon smiled, stood and raised her glass in their direction.

"To the marriage of Andie and Zack: the best incarnation of love
since Jesus."

The room cheered and drank behind Sharon's toast. Andrea and Zack
kissed and hugged as the dance music began and the well wishers
joined the happy couple on the dance floor.

"Ten years and you're still showing me up," Wallace said with a tight
smile, looking at Andie and Zack as they shimmied and shook on the
dance floor with their guests.

"Like that was ever some great feat?"

"Whether you want to believe me or not, I still want you Sharon," he
said with a sad, bitter laugh. "Being a literary success is a poor
second to being happy with you."

He cleared his throat and looked at her with a great longing. The
depth of its honesty made her very uncomfortable.

"I miss you."

"What you miss is fucking me," she said with all the contempt she
could muster. "I don't miss being fucked by you."

A cold angry glare shone from his eyes.

"Yes you do," Wallace said taking a healthy swig from a pocket flask
he hadn't given to his brother. "You need my next book to remind
you. I'm calling it Bondage: A Woman's Best Friend. I'll send
Walter an advanced copy when it comes out."

Sharon stood up but Wallace grabbed her by the wrist and forced her
to face him.

"You need to be fucked by someone, Sharon. Hard, often and against
your will. Maybe then you'd resemble a real woman."

He let her go and went over to the table where his parents were
sitting. He sat down with a loud thump and let his mother look at
his wound.

Shaken, Sharon made her way to Walter and his parents, trying to ward
off the chill now causing her to tremble.

"How you holding up, sweetheart?" Walter asked, wrapping an arm
around her and giving her a kiss.

"I'm trying hard to stay focused on Andie's happiness," she answered,
swallowing her tears as she rested her head against his shoulder

"I've got just what you need," he said, kissing her again. He got up
and walked over to the band. Walter's mother patted Sharon's hand
understandingly.

"I think you're showing wonderful restraint, dear," she said. "I
would have stuck that fork considerably further south. How Josie
Michaels could have raised such a bore is beyond me."

"Oh Grace please," Arthur Skinner said incredulously. "That infamous
Michaels' family charm has been nothing but cover for a very ugly
family life. Every one of them is in AA, Josie included."

He glanced over to where Adam Michaels was speaking and gesticulating
angrily at his son. Wallace's head bowed as if ashamed, but a sudden
shake of his shoulder proved he had merely nodded off.

"Although Wallace seems to have fallen off the wagon tonight."

The band started to play again. A thoughtful smile crossed Sharon's
face as she recognized the tune the band was now playing: "Something
to Live For."

"Ah," Arthur Skinner beamed, extending his hand to his wife. "Shall
we trip the light fantastic, Gracie, my dear?"

Sharon watched her in-laws take to the dance floor and hold each
other so close she marveled that they were able to take a breath.
She turned her head and smiled as she found Walter back by her side.

"Let's dance," Walter said, taking her in his arms.

She snuggled against him and tried to melt into him, tried to forget
the words Wallace had said, tried to deny the memory they had
elicited.

'You need to be fucked by someone, Sharon. Hard, often and against
your will. Maybe then you'd resemble a real woman.'

"A penny for your thoughts."

"Only if you replace them with something better."

"Okay," he said. Holding her more closely, he kissed her forehead
and sang with the music

I want something to live for
Someone to make my life an adventurous dream
Oh, what wouldn't I give for
Someone who'd take my life and make it seem
Gay as they say it ought to be.
Why can't I have love like that brought to me?
My eye is watching the noon crowds
Searching the promenades seeking a clue
To the one who will someday be my
Something to live for."

A tear ran down Sharon's cheek as Walter kissed her again and gazed
lovingly into her eyes.

"How was that?"

"Perfect," she sighed.

"Mind if I cut in?"

The sound of Wallace Michael's drunken voice made Sharon shiver and
she pressed her face more deeply into Walter's chest.

"You try it and it'll be the last thing you do with your eyes open
tonight," Walter warned.

"Aw come on," Wallace laughed, trying to pry Sharon from Skinner's
arms. "I know how much you've wanted this, Sharon. I can't tell you
how much I've wanted to give it to you."

Sharon let off a frightened gasp as Wallace parted them. Skinner
deftly pulled Wallace back and held him away from her.

"Go wait for me at mom and dad's table, hon," Walter said, kissing
Sharon quickly on the forehead. "Wallace and I need to step outside
for a little talk."

Walter was smiling but the stranglehold he had on Wallace's neck
showed how angry he really was.

"You wouldn't really hurt a harmless littl' ol' drunk, would you?"
Wallace squeaked, trying to pull Walter's arm from his throat.

"Not too badly," Walter promised, dragging him from the reception
room with Zack and every man from the groom's entourage in his wake.

Andrea joined Sharon and put her arm around her.

"Thanks for your patience, Washaw. One hour more and this hell will
all be over." She looked toward the door as Walter and Zack came
back. The rest of the escorts and Wallace were missing.

Zack kissed his bride.

"Wallace is down for the rest of the night. The guys are putting him
to bed."

Then he leaned over and kissed Sharon on the cheek.

"For services rendered above and beyond the call of duty. You all
right?"

Sharon smiled and nodded yes but Skinner could see she was far from
all right. He put his arm around her and kissed her too.

"Let's go home. I'll go get mom and dad."

"Okay. I'll wait for you by the car."

Outside, with the music playing quietly behind her, Sharon waited
until Walter had disappeared inside before she broke down and
sobbed.

End part two.

Title: A Test of Love Forever (3/4)
Author: Rev. Anna Send feedback to ataylorsweringen@yahoo.com
Classification: SR
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Skinner/Sharon, pre X-file
Disclaimer: Sharon and Walter Skinner belong to 1013 productions.
Everyone else belongs to me. Something to Live For was written by
Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington.
Summary: A present day situation takes Sharon back to some painful
past experiences where even Walter's love has a hard time reaching her

A Test of Love Forever (3/4)
by Rev. Anna

It had just started to rain when Walter pulled out of his parents'
driveway and headed for home. Sharon's head lolled against the
headrest. She felt Walter's hand on hers.

"We'll be home soon," he said, giving her hand a gentle kiss.

"Good," she answered sleepily.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes," she said, closing her eyes so he couldn't see the lie in her
eyes.

About half an hour from home the rain picked up strength and pummeled
the car mercilessly. Storms never bothered Sharon. If anything, the
sound of howling winds and sheets of rain were a lullaby to her. The
wet regular slapping sounds made her feel safe somehow.

But the slapping of rain against the car invaded her sleep. She
moaned softly as memory brought to her unconscious mind another rainy
evening, an evening where she was back in Wallace's playroom. Its
darkness was pierced only by an occasional flash of lightening, its
silence disturbed by intermittent claps of thunder accompanied by the
applause of a flapping curtain. The silk chords around her wrists
didn't hurt or bind as they held her arms securely above her head.
She could barely hear Wallace's laughter as he held the vibrator
against her clit, aching for climax.

Wallace laughed as he turned up the instrument.

"Beg," he said.

She had been. That was the game: he ordered her to beg him to fuck
her and unless she used those words, he ignored her pleas for
release.

Why did she keep coming here? Did she really think it would be
different? Wasn't that the AA definition of crazy: expecting
different and better results from doing the same thing? It always
ended the same way. Him tying her up, teasing her to beg him to fuck
her; she fighting against that order, praying he would stop but
praying just as hard that he wouldn't.

"Fuck me, Wallace," she gasped, pulling desperately against the
restraints. "Fuck me. NOW!"

"I love it when you're forceful," he panted.

His hand clamped down across her mouth as he tossed away the vibrator
and shoved his penis brutally into her vagina, thrusting long and
hard. Her muffled moans kept pace with his grunts as his thrusting
intensified until both he and she were screaming . . .

Skinner glanced worriedly out of the corner of his eye at his wife as
he watched her begin to thrash from side to side, moaning, crying.
By the time he pulled into their parking space, Sharon was tugging
against her seat belt as if she were fighting something or someone.
He had just reached over to wake her when she started screaming.

"Sharon."

He turned her toward him and shook her roughly.

"Sharon wake up!" he yelled. "Wake up!"

She caught her breath and blinked. Slowly the terror she felt gave
way to shame.

"Are you okay?"

She shook her head no, pulling at the neckline of her dress.

"I just want to get upstairs and get out of this damn dress," she
answered irritably. "It's driving me crazy."

"Sharon -- " Skinner said tenderly, placing his hand on her shoulder.

"No! Walter don't!" she sobbed, throwing him off and hurrying away
from the car. "Don't touch me!"

Hurt, Skinner made no attempt to approach his wife. They stood at
the garage elevator, waiting silently for it to come. Sharon stayed
pressed in a corner of the elevator refusing to look at him.

She had barely stepped into the apartment before she pulled her dress
off. She threw it on the floor, ran upstairs and into their bedroom,
stripping off the rest of her clothes. She stepped into the shower
stall and turned on the water, letting it hit her full in the face
then hard on her back as the voice of Wallace Michaels pelted her
just as hard.

'The truth is you found me as hot as I found you. The sex between us
was always memorably wild, enjoyably kinky and you couldn't get
enough of it . . .'

Sharon pulled her hair, sobbing as her father's accusations joined
the assault.

'We are tempted by our own desires! If you had let the word of God
take root in you, James could have never gotten near you. Whatever
happened between you and him, you wanted to have happen . . . You're
bad through and through!'

"I'm not bad," Sharon cried. "I'm not bad."

She pressed her face and palms against the tiles and slowly sank to
her knees.

End part three

Title: A Test of Love Forever (4/4)
Author: Rev. Anna Send feedback to ataylorsweringen@yahoo.com
Classification: SR
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: None
Keywords: Skinner/Sharon, pre X-file
Disclaimer: Sharon and Walter Skinner belong to 1013 productions.
Everyone else belongs to me. Something to Live For was written by
Billy Strayhorn and Duke Ellington.
Summary: A present day situation takes Sharon back to some painful
past experiences where even Walter's love has a hard time reaching her

A Test of Love Forever (4/4)
By Rev. Anna

Downstairs Walter Skinner stood quietly in the darkness of the living
room, not knowing what to do. Sharon had been irritable ever since
she learned Wallace was to be Zack's best man. For the past three
months Walter bit his tongue when she was snippy, fought feeling
rejected when she wouldn't let him make love to her, battled hating
her with every fiber of his being only to fall in love with her all
over again as he listened to her cry through her nightmare.

Being pushed away in the car was just more of the same, but quite
honestly, he didn't knowing this didn't make it easier to take.

Walter picked up Sharon's dress and looked in the direction she had
run. He felt like he was holding a bad hand in a game he was no
longer sure he could win, but deep down in his gut he knew he had
to. He was determined to keep reaching out to her no matter how hard
or how often she had pushed him away.

He stroked the fabric of the discarded dress longingly as he folded
it over a chair then headed upstairs to their bedroom.

He sat down to undress and had just slipped off his shoes when he
stopped and listened to what he thought was the shower but soon
realized was Sharon crying.

"Sharon?"

He went into the bathroom and found her huddled in the shower, face
against the tiles with the water hitting her. His heart hurt as he
went over to her, determined to get her to talk to him.

"Sharon, darling what's--?"

He stopped as he noticed the convulsive trembling of her body. In
horror he swore and hurried over as he realized the water flowing
from the shower had to be ice cold.

"Holy shit! Sharon, what are you doing!?"

"I'm not bad," she cried. "I'm not bad."

Quickly he turned the hot water spigot and pulled her into his arms,
holding her hard against him, rubbing her down hard with a
washcloth.

"You're not bad, sweetheart," he cooed, "You're not bad."

Sharon sobbed as his embrace and the water warmed her up.

"I am," she cried. "I am.

"No you're not. Sharon, look at me!"

The faraway glaze that was coating her eyes slowly melted away until
he could tell she was finally seeing him.

"You're not bad."

She blinked, truly puzzled at the sight of him.

"Walter? Why are you in the shower with your clothes on?"

He laughed and kissed her forehead.

"You know me. Always looking for a new experience."

Sharon sniffed and forced herself to look into his eyes. The warmth
of his gaze brought on a new flood of tears.

"Oh Walter . . . " she sobbed. "I feel so dirty. My father was
right. Everything that's happened to me is my fault."

'Damn you, Malcolm Washaw,' he swore under his breath.

"No," he whispered, wrapping her in a robe and lifting her in his
arms. "Your father was not right."

"Yes he was. Why else would I let myself get involved with James
Foster in the first place? Or let Wallace do the things he did to
me or--or--?"

"Shhh. For the same reason you became involved with me," he answered
matter of factly. "Because you wanted to be loved. You're not bad
because bad things happened to you when you went looking."

"You're just saying that because you love me," she said, starting to
cry again.

"Yes," he answered as he carried her to their bed and tucked her in
under the covers. "But it also happens to be true."

"Why is Wallace able to have this effect on me?" Sharon cried. "I
haven't had anything to do with Wallace for ten years."

"I know, baby. I know. Give Dr. Hartley a call tomorrow. Okay?"

"It's been five years since I've had a session, Walter."

"Well, maybe I shouldn't have let you stop."

Sharon lay in her husband's arms but looked away from him.

"I never told her about Wallace."

"Maybe you should have."

"I couldn't."

"Well why don't you tell me now?"

Something in his tone made her look at him. His smile encouraged
her. She pressed herself against him and began to talk.

"Wallace, could never make love to me unless he was restraining me
somehow, begging him to fuck me."

She shuddered as she remembered her nightmare. She looked at Walter
and saw only love in his eyes.

"You--you don't think I'm perverted?"

"Why would I think that?"

"Because of the bondage."

Walter shook his head no and hugged her.

"I think you wanted to trust someone very much. The use of bondage
in lovemaking requires a lot of trust. You wanted to trust Wallace.
It's not your fault he wasn't trustworthy."

"Is that what I was doing?"

"Do you think it might be something else?"

"In my sessions with Dr. Hartley, I talked about what James did to
me -- what we did together. He used to tie me up too. I liked how
it made me feel and until-- until that weekend when he--"

She stopped and shuddered. She didn't want to go that far back. She
didn't want to remember that. She took a deep breath and started
again.

"Part of me liked -- liked being tied down, unable to get away."

She searched Walter's eyes for the least sign of disgust or anger or
disapproval, but found none. She knew the fear was creeping into her
throat must be showing in own eyes.

"What is it?" he asked quietly, already knowing her question before
she even asked it.

"If I asked you -- if I wanted you-- "

She stopped, afraid.

"To tie you up?"

She nodded.

"Would you?"

Walter looked thoughtful. He thought a long while before he spoke.
He searched her eyes carefully, choosing words he hoped wouldn't
offend or push her away.

"If we talked about it first and if we planned it together and I knew
I wasn't hurting you and I understood why you wanted it, I guess -- I
think I could do it."

He stroked the side of her face.

"My hope would be that I could hold you with something stronger than
restraints, give you something more thrilling than the rush you'd get
from struggling against me."

He kissed the top of her head, praying these words from his heart had
been the right thing to say.

"Is this something you'd like us to explore?" he asked.

"I -- I don't know. Before you, sex was always something done to me,
not with me. I love how you make love to me. How I make love to
you. I don't want to mess that up."

They were quiet again. Walter could feel Sharon crying silently
against his chest. He rested his cheek against her head, just
letting her cry, hurting for the both of them as they lay there in
the dark.

"But if things did get messed up," he said. "I think that'd be a
test of love forever we'd pass."

"Would we?" she asked in a fearful whisper.

Skinner lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

"Yes," he assured her, kissing her softly. "Yes, we would."

End