From: anna taylor sweringen <ataylorsweringen@yahoo.com>
Date: Fri, 8 Nov 2002 07:11:09 -0800 (PST)
Subject: New Story submission: Approaching Love Forever
Source: direct

Title: Approaching Love Forever
Author: Rev. Anna send feedback to
ataylorsweringen@yahoo.com
Classification: SR, 
Rating: NC-17
Keywords: Sharon/Skinner, Pre-X-file
Disclaimer: Sharon Skinner and Walter Skinner belong
to 1013 Productions.  Everyone else is mine.
Summary: Skinner and Sharon grow closer together
Author's Note: This is one of four stories which stand
alone that tell how Skinner and Sharon got together.
Story 1: Before Love Forever; 2: Approaching Love
Forever; 3: A Taste of Love Forever; 4. Love Forever


Approaching Love Forever
by Rev. Anna

October 13, 1973

Sharon closed her eyes, trembling at the sight of
Walter through the peephole.  She leaned her forehead
against the door as her mind went back to the first
night they met almost two years ago.  

He had just left his cousin Andrea's party after
clobbering that drunken lout, Wallace Michaels. Sharon
had run out after him.  He had wanted to be alone but
she suggested they be alone together.

That night alone together had turned into a day alone
together which had turned into a week alone together. 
Meeting for lunch.  Walking and talking for hours. 
Having dinner. Laughing or arguing or being surprised
when they agreed with one another.  The days went
quickly by and they had arrived at his last night in
New York.

"I should spend a couple of days with my folks before
I'm shipped back to 'Nam."

"You don't owe me any explanations," she said, trying
not to show how much she was going to miss him.  She
put on a weak indifferent smile. "So long.  Been good
to know you."

He placed a hand on her arm.  

"Can I write to you?  Maybe call you sometime?  I
probably won't be stateside again until the end of my
tour."

The look in his eyes said he was missing her already. 


"Of course," she said, taking his hand in hers,
letting a genuine smile appear on her face.  "I didn't
mean to be flip.  I can't help it sometimes.  I just
never expected you to get under my skin the way you
have."

"Same here.  It really has been good to know you," he
said shyly.

She looked at him, not sorry she had opened up to him.

"I want to make love to you," he said.

"I want that too," she answered.

Sharon took several deep breaths to steady her nerve,
remembering the feel of him inside her, the slow pace
he set that matched the beat of her heart.  She
remembered his thrusts every time a letter from him
came.  Every time she spoke to him on a bad overseas
connection she remembered the look of delight on his
face that night when she came first.  

'Everything else is just something else to do until I
hear from you again.  I don't know if I like that. 
When did you turn me into my mother?' she asked during
one such conversation.

She could hear his hearty laughter over the static.

'About the same time you turned me into my father.  I
envision me coming home and rubbing your feet and
listening to what a hard day at the office you had.
That's my dad pampering my mom.  And the thing that
attracted me to you was the fact that you weren't
interested in being pampered.'

"This is not good," she said.

"Actually for me it is. Nothing about this damn war is
worth fighting for or worth living for.  But you--you
give me something to live for.  My CO kids me all the
time about it.  When the mail comes, he shouts out to
the gang 'A letter from Sharon!  Skinner's got
something to live for!'  Then he starts singing this
Billy Strayhorn song called Something to Live For.  I
don't mind though.  'Cause it's true.  You are my
something to live for.  Now you tell me when did that
happen?"

That was the last conversation they had.  The last
communication they had for almost a year.  Bits of
another conversation swirled around her now as she
looked through the peephole again and looked at
Walter, patiently standing there as if rooted to the
spot.

'Andrea, I've written to your cousin every week for
the past ten months.  He hasn't responded once.'

'He is responding, Sharon. The only time we know for
sure that Walter is responding is when something comes
from you.'

And now a year later, here he was, unannounced, on the
other side of her door.  With one final deep breath,
she opened it and looked him over.  She started with
the black loafers on his feet and worked her way up
the crisp black pants legs past the black windbreaker
zipped up all the way to his neck.  

"You look good enough to eat," she said, unable to
keep a tremor of her voice.  

"I guess I'm lucky you're not a cannibal, huh?" he
said.  

She laughed and waved him in toward the couch.  

"What's your poison these days, marine?"

"Just water, 'mam."

"Ooo.  Trying to get into heaven?"

"Why not?" he answered.  "I've already been to hell."

She watched him sit down and close his eyes, shifting,
barely hiding the shudder his body gave off.  She sat
down beside him and ran her finger along the crease in
his pants.  He smiled but it wasn't real.  

"Seltzer or tap?" she asked.

"Surprise me."

She gave his knee a pat and went into the kitchen. 
She rested her head against the refrigerator and took
a deep, deep breath as the rest of her conversation
with Andrea came back to her.

'He is responding, Sharon. The only time we know for
sure that Walter is responding is when something comes
from you.'

'He reads my letters and still doesn't answer me?'

'His mom reads them to him.'

'And what does he say?'

'He doesn't say anything.  He just stares at the
ceiling.  But when she reads him your letters he
cries.   Please don't stop writing.  Those tears are
the only proof we have that there's still enough of
him in there left to respond.'

Sharon took the bottle of seltzer from the
refrigerator and poured it into a tall glass.  She
went back into the living room and found him staring
vacantly out the window into the night.  

"How long before you have to go back?" she asked,
handing him the glass.  

"Back?" he asked.  "I don't.  I don't have a unit to
go back to . . . with . . . "

"I know.  I meant how long will you be here before you
go back home?"

"The latest version of the Save Walter project is in
full swing.  I'm here for at least another month."

He took a long swig from the glass and continued to
stare out the window.  

"So stranger, what brings you knocking at my door?"

A quiet, inviting twitch bent his lips into a smile,
but she noticed something quieter, something sadder in
his eyes.

"I was hoping to find a place where I knew I wouldn't
get any fucking pity or a pity fuck."

"Well, you're in luck sir.  We still don't stock any
of those items here."

He laughed shortly and finally looked at her.  He set
his glass down and brushed away a loose strand of hair
from her forehead.

"I also wanted to thank you in person for writing to
me while I was in the hospital."

"So thank me already," she said, pulling him down by
the neck as she  tilted her face up to his.

His lips were warm against hers.  His fingers warm on
her breasts.  She pressed her hands against his chest
and tried to pull down his jacket's zipper down but it
wouldn't budge.

"Take off your jacket and stay awhile."

"Huh?"

She tugged on the zipper again but it still wouldn't
budge.  

"Oh," he laughed, and again she heard that sadness. 
He tugged at the zipper but it refused to budge for
him either.  He gave her a quick kiss and stepping
back, lifted the jacket from the waist and pulled it
over his head.

"That'll work too," she laughed as his head
disappeared into the twisting and turning fabric.  In
an instant he was more trapped than before.

"Oh damn," he said,  "I forgot to unbutton cuffs."

"Here," she laughed. "Let me." 

She reached for his wrists when the sight of the scars
on his exposed side and stomach stopped her.   She
cupped her hands over her mouth as he blindly turned
around, revealing his badly scarred lower back.

"Sharon, where are you?"

"Sorry," she said hurriedly, reaching around and
freeing the cuffs holding his wrists prisoner.  She
grabbed the sleeves and pulled. Walter re-emerged with
an embarrassed laugh, brushing his hair back.  Sharon
smiled nervously, clutching his windbreaker to her
chest.

"Can I -- can I get you some more water?" she asked,
trying not to shake as she handed him back his jacket.

"No thanks," he said, taking the jacket with his left
while pulling down his shirt with his right.

"Well, sit down and relax, big boy.  When I return you
can tell me all about this new incarnation of the Save
Walter project."

She rushed down the hall to the bathroom, trying to
shut out the sound of Andrea's voice, telling her what
had happened to Walter.


'All we know is his whole unit was ambushed and Walter
is the only one to come out of it alive.  They had him
in a hospital in Saigon for two weeks then
hospitalized him in Germany for six months."

'And now?'

'They transferred him back here to a hospital in
Bethesda sometime last month.  We - we don't know how
much longer he'll be there.  My dad is arranging for
him to be transferred to the VA hospital in Queens.' 

'Will I be able to see him?'

'He's not communicating with anyone.  We don't know if
he ever will.  It's not just his body that's been
hurt, Sharon.  At first they thought he was dead, but
as they were putting him in the body bag he suddenly
came to.'

Sharon reached the bathroom and closed the door.  She
turned on the water in the sink full blast, grabbed a
towel and shoved it into her mouth, screaming into it
as she sank down to her knees then into a fetal
position and kept on screaming into the towel as the
tears streamed down her face.  Those scars were proof
of the images she had tried for months not to imagine.
 His beautiful body riddled with bullets, bleeding,
his soul slipping away.  Laying for months in a
hospital bed.  Refusing to talk to anyone.   Family. 
Doctors.  Friends.  Her.

And now a year later here he was.  With her.  

'Thank you, God,' she cried.  'Thank you.'

There was a gentle knock on the bathroom door.

"Hey.  Did you fall in or something?"

"I'm fine," she called out to him, getting up and
scrubbing her face with the water.  "I just didn't
realize I had to shit a brick."

"Still blunt and to the point," he laughed.

She turned the water off and dried her face furiously
with the towel.  

"Surely you don't want all the gory details," she said
brightly, trying hard to hold on to the smile she had
plastered on her face as she opened the door.

The smile on his face was genuine.

"No.  No, I don't," he said.  Then reaching out and
cradling her cheek with his left hand, he asked "But
do you?" 

Sharon could feel the tears begin to form and she
hurried past him into the bedroom.  She stood by the
bed with her hand to her mouth.  Walter came and stood
beside her.   He turned her around, took her hand away
from her mouth and placed it underneath his shirt. 
The feel of his scared flesh on her fingertips set her
lips trembling.

Sharon collapsed into his arms, crying harder and
louder than she ever thought possible.  He was bigger
and stronger than her but her weight pulled him to the
bed.  He pulled her onto his lap and cradled her
against him as he kissed her hair, her forehead, her
eyes, and finally her lips, stilling her cries,
filling her with a renewed longing.   She put her
hands on his face and kissed back, hungry for more of
him.  With gratitude she could feel him responding
with equal desire.

He slipped her onto her back and rested on his arms to
keep from crushing her as he continued to kiss her. 
His fingers snaked through her hair and he said her
name over and over again, laughing and crying as his
tears wet her lips, dripped on her collar bone, ran
down her chest along the cleft between her breasts.

Her hands went to his belt, and with practiced ease
she had it open.  She undid the clasp of his waistband
and reached for his zipper.  He was panting as hotly
and heavily as she was but he stopped her.  She looked
up at him, confused.  He held her wrists and shook his
head no.

"No fucking pity and no pity fuck.  Remember?"

A great big 'NO' swelled up deep from within and even
though he was bigger and stronger than she was, she
pushed up and reversed their positions.  She shook her
head no as she looked down on him.  Wresting her hands
from his grip, she placed her hands palm down on his
chest.

"I'll tell you what I remember: I remember how alive I
felt that night when you entered me.  I remember
enjoying the warmth of your hands on my body, the
smell of you every time I took a deep breath, the
taste of your tongue in my mouth."

She leaned in and kissed him as her hands found his
zipper and pulled it down.

"I remember how wet I got every time you called me
from overseas, every time there was a letter from you
in the mailbox."

She wriggled slowly left then right until her pants
and panties were off.

"This isn't fucking pity, Walter.  It's fucking
gratitude.  Gratitude that you're not dead.  Gratitude
that you're here.  Gratitude that you want me as much
as I want you."

Her hand slid in and massaged his stiffening penis
until he was good and hard.

"And as for this being a pity fuck?"  

She slid down on him and pulled his hands around so
they rested on her ass.  

"Let me teach you the difference between a pity fuck
and gratitude."

Walter arched up as she gripped his shoulders and
pushed down, then pulled up then pushed down.  His
eyes were closed and his mouth was wide open, gasping
for air as she rode him hard.  He pulled her tighter
against him and thrust up with the same enthusiasm to
a rhythm they had only shared once but which neither
had ever forgotten.

His fingers gripped her harder as she arched and
screamed, overtaken by the force of her orgasm.  His
hands moved to her head and pulled her face to his,
smothering his cry in her lips as she pushed down
harder and faster until his orgasm came.

Their soft, hurried panting filled the air around
them.  Sharon sighed as she felt Walter go soft and
slowly slip from inside her.  She rested her head
against his chest, her ear just over his heart and
listened to it beat.  She felt his arms wrap around
her as his chest began to heave in convulsive sobs.  

She slid to her side and pulled him into her arms,
kissing him gently on the top of his head. 

"I love you, Sharon," he cried as he buried his face
into her shoulder and squeezed tightly.  She cried
too, as she held him and listened to him crying
loudly, painfully until he had cried himself to sleep
in her arms.  

She smiled listening to the sound of his untroubled
breathing as he snuggled more deeply against her.
 
"I love you, Walter," she whispered, planting a soft
kiss on his forehead.  "I'll love you forever."

End