TITLE:     SINS OF THE FATHER
AUTHOR:    DONNILEE
E-MAIL:    DONNILEE@SNET.NET
WEB SITE:  http://donnilee.tripod.com
CATEGORY:  Skinner/Other
RATING:    NC-17
SPOILERS:  Nope.  Just for previous stories in this series.
SUMMARY:   It's time for Clara to face her father.  Walter sees her
through it.  (Sequel to "Trial & Error", "Missing in Action" and
"Black and White.")  Fourth story in the Skinner/Clara series.
DEDICATION: This one is for Andressa, and Lesley from Chile' who both
were asking for a sequel to this series.  Hope you like it girls!
THANKS:    As always, so many thanks to my beta reader,
Sdani.  She rocks.  Muchas gracias.

PART 1 (NC-17)
J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
A.D. SKINNER'S OFFICE
THURDAY, 3:00 PM

I snatched up the phone as it began to ring.  "Skinner."

"It's me," her soft voice tumbled into my ear.  She sounded so sad it
nearly broke my heart.

"Any news?"

"Yeah, they've set a date."

"Will your deposition be enough?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"No, they want me to testify."

"Shit."

"It will be all right.  Attorney Blair said he'd coach me thoroughly
before putting me on the stand."

"Still, I was so hoping you wouldn't have to go through that."

"There's more."

"What?"

"They want you to testify too, and Agent Mulder."

I sighed heavily.  "Will they serve me with a subpoena?"

"Not if you come in voluntarily."

"Of course I will."

"I hate this.  It's going to put our private lives on display.  It's
not fair."

"I don't care about that so much as I care about putting your father
away."

"I know, but it's hard."

"I know, Baby.  I would think that law about testifying against a
spouse would apply to testifying against a family member."

"I wish it did."

"Clara, maybe I can pull some strings."

"No, Walter.  I don't want you to do that.  I need to do this, for
myself, for us.  I need these ghosts behind me.  I need to move
forward, with you, with our lives together and I know I can't do that
until this is settled once and for all."

"What can I do?"

"Come home on time tonight."

"I will.  I promise.  I won't stay late, no matter what."

"I'll see you when you get here."

I paused, hating to leave her alone with her thoughts.  I knew she
needed the time alone but it killed me when I couldn't help her.  "I
love you," I said softly into the receiver.

I heard her sniffle.  "I love you too, Walter.  Thank you for
everything."

"For what?  I haven't done anything."

"Yes, you have.  You've been extremely supportive through this whole
thing."

I shrugged even though she couldn't see me.  "It's nothing.  I wish I
could help more."

"You do plenty."

"Never."

I could hear the smile in her voice.  "Stop arguing with me."

I smiled too,  "I love you.  I'll be home soon."

"See you then.  Bye."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and looked up at my agents sitting in the chairs
across my desk.   They both wore soft smiles on their faces.  I'm sure
a year ago they never would have expected to hear me be so soft with
anyone in my life.  But they had been there through my entire
relationship with Clara.  They had seen many sides of me that no one
else had.  They had kept my confidence and I trusted them completely.

Mulder spoke first.  "She has to testify, huh?  No getting around it?"

"It appears so.  They want you and me to testify too."

He nodded.  "I'll be there.  Just tell me when.  We'll need to make
sure we don't go out in the field when the trial is scheduled."

Scully intervened.  "What about me?"

"I don't know.  You were kidnapped with her, but you had no contact
with her father.  They may want you to give some details of your
treatment at the hands of Mason Garrett.  But perhaps your deposition
and signed affidavit are enough."

"This is going to be rough for her," Scully added.  "Please let her
know that we are always available if she needs us."

"She knows that."

"I know, Sir, but sometimes we need a girlfriend to talk to."

"Oh, I get it.  I'll let her know you're there if she needs to talk to
someone besides me."  I knew I sounded slightly wounded.

"It's not an insult, Sir," Scully added, a slight smirk lifting one
corner of her mouth.

"I know.  I just want to protect her and I know I can't, not from
this.  It drives me crazy."

Mulder grinned.  "I'm familiar with the feeling."

Scully rolled her eyes.  "Sometimes we have to just walk through the
fire, Sir and come out the other side."

"I know, that doesn't make it any easier.  When she hurts, I hurt."

They both nodded, I knew, relating completely to the love I felt for
Clara.  They felt it for one another and it had made them stronger.  I
only hoped that would be true for Clara and I.  She was wearing my
ring, but we had yet to set a date.  This black cloud was hanging over
our heads, preventing our happiness from being total and I wanted it
done with.  Next week, it would be done.  I sighed, "Well that's all
for now.  I'll let you know as soon I hear when they want us in
court."

Scully stood and said, "I'll be there, whether I need to testify or
not."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate your support."

She nodded and her and Mulder made their way to the door.  Mulder
turned and said, "It will all work out, Sir."

"I know.  I just want it over as soon as possible.  I want to put it
behind us.  I want to set a date and marry her."

Mulder smiled.  "You will, soon."

We acknowledged each other with sad smiles and they turned and left.
I started at my desk and the couple of files laying there waiting for
my attention.  I opened one and it was a stack of correspondence from
Kimberly that needed my signature.  I hastily signed my John Hancock
on each of them, not even looking at what they were for.  I trusted
Kimberly to take care of these day-to-day paper pusher things.

I slammed it shut and opened the other one.  It was a case that I
needed to assign.  A kidnapping.  I would give it to Reese and Riley.
I wanted Mulder and Scully's calendars clear.  It wasn't an x-file
anyway.

I pressed the intercom on my phone and said, "Kimberly?"

[Yes, Sir?] her voice came back.

"Call Agents Reese and Riley up to my office.  I need to assign a
case.  Then I'm leaving for the day."

[Early, Sir?]

"Yes, I need to go home."

[Is Clara all right, Sir?]

"Yes, but I think she needs some company."

[Moral support,] she added.

"Exactly."

I could hear the grin in her voice.  [You're going to make a good
husband in spite of yourself, Sir.]

I chuckled.  "Just call Reese and Riley and don't get smart with me."

[Yes, Sir!] she said, a mock salute in her tone.

I chuckled and turned back to skim the case.  Shit, maybe this was an
X-File.  Well, too bad.  Reese and Riley were getting it anyway.  They
could always call in help later if they got in over their heads.

XXXXXXXXXX

CLARA & WALTER'S TOWNHOUSE
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
THURSDAY, 5:30 PM

I stood up from the couch and made my way to the door as I heard his
key in the lock.  As soon as he kicked the door closed behind him, I
was in his arms.  "I'm so glad you are home."

He squeezed me tight and buried his nose in my hair.  "What do you
need, Clara?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion.

"Just hold me for a while."

"I can do that."

"Whoa!" I cried as he scooped me up in a baby carry and headed for the
bedroom, easily taking the stairs two at a time, despite carrying my
weight.

He shouldered the door open and turned me sideways so I wouldn't bump
on the doorjamb and strode to the bed.  He lowered me gently and
pulled the covers down.  "Get in."

"Walter, I have all my clothes on."

He raised his eyebrows.  "I won't mind if you take them off," he
deadpanned.

I chuckled, already feeling better now that he was here with me.  I
stood up and pulled my sweatshirt up over my head, tousling my hair.
I wasn't wearing a bra and I heard him suck in a tiny breath.  I loved
the way the sight of my body always affected him.  Exciting him was a
potent aphrodisiac for me.  Although right now, sex was not what I had
in mind.

I pulled the drawstring on my sweats and let them puddle at my feet,
and quickly took off my panties and socks and then slid quickly into
the cool sheets, shivering at the initial contact.

He smiled and slowly began removing his jacket, tie, shirt, pants,
socks, and shoes.  He stood before me in his boxer briefs looking like
an ad for Calvin Klein underwear.  I smiled broadly and said, "Lose
the boxers, Babe."

He shook his head in amusement and pulled them down.  I felt a wave of
warmth steel down my body and pool between my legs.  If the sight of
me affected him, I wasn't immune to the sight of him either.  My eyes
trailed over his muscular pecs and bulging biceps.  His chest hair
covered his defined six-pack abdominal muscles with a light coating of
hair.  His huge thighs were parted slightly.  I inhaled deeply,
smelling his musk even from a few feet away.  I loved the smell of
him.  His enormous sex lay against one thigh, starting to harden.  I
fixed my eyes on it and licked my lips.  I thought maybe I should
rethink the sex thing.  I was changing my mind.  Maybe that is exactly
what I had on my mind.

"Good God, Clara.  I promised myself I was just going to comfort you
and be there for you, but if you keep looking at me that way, I'm not
going to be able to keep my promise."

"Maybe I don't want you to keep your promise."

"But you need me to hold you."  He moved to the bed, throwing his wire
rims on the nightstand and slid in, rolling me up onto my side and
spooning me from behind.  He grunted slightly as he reached down and
rearranged his equipment to lie flush with the crack of my ass.

I hummed.  "Maybe the most comforting thing you can do is make love to
me," I whispered.

I heard him sigh and lean in; feathering kisses over the back and side
of my neck.  His lips made their way up to my ear.  I gasped as his
tongue snaked out and traced the shell, ending on my lobe, which he
promptly took into his mouth and sucked lightly.

I moaned now as the familiar tingling sensation ran down my neck and
spine.  One touch from this giant of a man and I was like putty, ready
to be molded to his whim.  It had been a year now and the chemistry
between us hadn't dimmed one bit.

Six months ago, a man named Mason Garrett, who turned out to have been
hired by my father, had kidnapped me, along with Agent Scully.  Hired
to kill me.  The thought brought a chill to my bones and I snuggled
back further into Walter's big body, letting his heat surround me.

His hands trailed down over the outside of my thigh, up and over my
hip. He worked his way up my tummy, gently caressing and cupping my
breast in his right hand.  Squeezing gently and emitting a soft grunt
in my ear, he pressed his now burgeoning erection against my backside.

I melted against him, pressing my breast into his hand, encouraging
his actions.  My father had wanted me dead.  It had taken months of
contemplation and some therapy to accept that and realize that the man
had never loved me.  He loved his business, he loved his money, and he
loved his son.  But he had never loved me.  My counselor had told me
that he didn't love anyone, least of all himself.  His bravado was a
defense mechanism and you couldn't love anyone until you first loved
yourself.

All that was fine and wonderful, but it didn't heal the stinging pain
in my heart when I thought of being unloved by my own father; so
unloved, in fact, that he wanted me killed so I wouldn't infringe on
Cam's precious inheritance.  Like I wanted a thing to do with his
dirty money anyway.

The thing that did heal the pain in my heart was Walter.  This huge,
lumbering mountain of a man that treated me with respect, and made
love to me like I was a precious treasure.  Then, I felt loved,
loveable, and worth loving.  When I looked into his eyes and saw my
own love and respect and joy reflected back at me, the pain in my
heart went away.  His love turned all my father's disdain to dust.  I
really didn't know what I would do without him.

I forcefully closed the door on my errant thoughts and concentrated on
the feeling of his large palm kneading my breast.  His fingers snaked
up and pinched my turgid nipple lightly, sending a bolt of sensation
straight to my core and flooding me with wetness.  I moaned softly and
felt his lips latch onto my tricep, sucking slow and hard.

I arched my back, pressing my derriere into his erection, which was at
full staff now, pulsing hot against my lower back.  He grunted and
flexed against me.  His rough, whispered voice floated into my ear.
"I love you so much, Clara.  You have no idea what you do to me."

"Oh, I have an idea," I teased, reaching behind me to grasp his shaft
lightly.  He bucked into my hand and I felt his pre-ejaculate smear on
my hand.  I brought my hand to my face and licked it off my palm.

He moaned, low and loud, "Oh God, have mercy on me, Clara."

I chuckled and maneuvered onto my back.  He immediately bent down and
captured my right nipple in his mouth, sucking slowly and harshly,
dragging his rough textured tongue over the throbbing bud.  It was my
turn to moan and reach for him.  He slid between my legs at my urging,
sliding his hands under my shoulders.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, brought my knees high and felt his
large head poking at my entrance.  He hissed and I said, "I'm ready,
take me."

He groaned and sank slowly into my core, letting me feel every bit of
him slide inside, stretching my walls and making me shudder.  When he
was fully embedded, he ground against me, pressing my clit between our
pubic bones and I groaned at the sudden dart of arousal that flooded
my
juncture.

He drew in a breath and said, "You're so hot inside."

"Mmmm," was the only answer I could utter.

He began to stroke slowly, withdrawing almost completely and then
feeding me his entire length.  I could feel him pulse inside me and I
was washed with warmth, feeling tears sting my eyes.

He cooed to me, "Shhh, I love you, Baby.  God, I love you so."

I swallowed a little sob.  "I know!  Oh God, don't ever stop loving
me,
Walter."

"Of course I won't, how could you even think that?"

I pulled his head down and he kissed me tenderly, letting his tongue
slide along mine as if we had all the time in the world.  There was no
rushing this lovemaking.  He was being slow and tender and showing me
how much he cherished me.  It was exactly what I needed.

I let myself surrender to the marvelous sensations, feeling his thumb
reach up with one hand to tweak my nipple, then slide down to cup my
rear end, pulling me tight against him as he kept his slow and steady
rhythm, filling me to the brim and retreating slowly only to do it
over and over again.

My fingers raked his back, pulling at him, trying to bring him closer,
although I didn't see how he could get any closer.  His nose burrowed
into my neck and he kissed me below the ear, whispering his love and
devotion to me.  "I belong to you, Clara.  You feel so good.  You own
my soul, Baby.  How can I love you more every day?"

I felt my heart break wide open like I did every time he was like this
with me.  Sometimes it was fast and furious and wild.  But he seemed
to always know when I needed tender and slow.

My climax hit me unexpectedly and I cried out, "Ohhhhh!" as my back
arched and my tunnel spasmed around his rigid shaft.  He didn't stop
his gentle thrusting and just kept stroking me inside and out.  I
panted and kissed his shoulder, holding his biceps in a death grip.

He sped up slightly, swiveling his hips and causing his chest hair to
rub against my sensitized nipples.  My mouth latched onto the tendon
in his neck and he groaned, speeding up a little more.  I felt the
second peak hit and he shouted, "Oh Christ!" as my womb convulsed and
my tunnel gripped his erection.

He still didn't stop, his rhythm faster but still steady.  I didn't
even realize my eyes were closed until he murmured, "Open your eyes,
Clara."

I popped my eyes open and they were caught by the look of absolute
love and adoration on his face.  He groaned, "I'll always be here with
you."

I could see his face twist into a grimace of pleasure and whispered,
"Let go, Love.  Let go."

"Oh Jesus!" he huffed and began to rapidly thrust into me, the
harshness lifting my hips off the bed.

I felt the telltale tingle in my clit again and shouted again as the
third peak rolled through me.  "Walter!  Oh Gooodddd, Again!"

I felt his body go rigid for the space of a heartbeat, his penis throb
and become unbearably hard inside me in that frozen second.  Then he
was hollering, "Oh Clara, Oh God!  Oh yeah!  So good!"  His shaft
pumped me full of hot semen that washed my insides with more warmth.

He collapsed into the cradle of my thighs and I hooked one ankle over
the other behind his back to keep him there.  He knew I loved to feel
the weight of his body on mine and made no attempt to move.  I could
hear his ragged breathing in my ear and hugged him tightly.

He grunted and raised his head, kissing me in slow motion, nipping my
lips, and then licking them.  I shivered and fell still.

He watched me closely with hooded eyes.  "I love you so much," he
muttered.

I smiled. "I love you too.  Thank you."

"For what?"

"That was exactly what I needed."

"Glad to be of service."

"I needed to feel loved," I said.

"Always, as long as I'm around," he mumbled and kissed me again.

I smiled at him and then said, "Shower?"

"You're on.  Then I'll cook dinner."

"We could order out."

"Whatever.  I just don't want you to have to do anything tonight.
It's been a trying day and I want you to relax."

"I couldn't be much more relaxed than I am now," I teased.

"Well, then, I may have to keep this therapy up."

"You'll get no argument from me!"

He chuckled and kissed me again; seemingly loathe to be pulling away,
even to shower.  We lay in each other's arms for several minutes more
and finally groaned as we separated and made our way to the shower.

PART 2 (PG-13)
WASHINGTON D.C.
SUPERIOR COURT HOUSE
COURTROOM 3
ONE WEEK LATER
FRIDAY, 1:30 PM

We were into the second day of trial.

The jury had filed back into the courtroom after our lunch break.  All
morning, we'd heard testimony from business partners of Orlando Jordan
deifying his character.  I was ready to gag.

The bailiff stepped forward, "All rise!  The Honorable Judge Patricia
Henry presiding."

The judge made her entrance and sat down banging her gavel.  "Please
be seated."

"Attorney Taylor, do you have more witnesses for the defense?" the
Judge asked.

"One more, your Honor.  The defense would like to call Cameron
Jordan."

I heard Clara pull in a deep breath.  I was sitting directly behind
her in the first row of the courtroom.  Mulder and Scully were beside
me.

Cameron Jordan was sworn in and took a seat.  Attorney Taylor
approached him and said, "Cameron Jordan, can you state your position
in the company."

"Vice-President."

"And had your father discussed his illness with you?"

"Yes, I knew he had colon cancer and was undergoing treatment."

"What kind of treatment?"

"Chemo therapy and radiation."

"Was he still functioning as the President of Jordan & Mitchell?"

"Technically, he was still president, but he'd pretty much left me in
charge.  Most days he couldn't make it into the office."

"I see, and did the subject of his death ever come up."

"Yes."

"What was the topic of those discussions?"

"Uh, his death," he deadpanned.

The attorney chuckled at himself.  "Sorry, let me rephrase.  Did your
father ever discuss his Will or the inheritance of the company with
you."

"Yes."

"Did you know what his plans were?"

"Yes."

"And could you tell us what those plans were?"

"He intended to leave everything to me; the company, the houses, etc."

"Did you discuss your sister?"

"No."

"Are you on speaking terms with your sister?"

"We never fought, if that's what you mean, but we were never close
either.  We hadn't spoken in a long time."

"But there was no animosity between you?"

"None that I know of."

Clara snorted softly and leaned forward to whisper something to
Attorney Blair, the prosecuting attorney for the District of Columbia.
He nodded and made a note.

"So as far as you knew, your father didn't plan on leaving anything to
your sister?"

"Not that I know of."

"Did that bother you?"

"Not really.  Clara was never interested in the business.  She had her
own career, had left South Carolina, and moved to D.C.  She'd made it
clear that she wanted nothing to do with the company."

"What about your father's residences or his other possessions, cars
and such?"

"She'd made it pretty clear that she didn't want anything to do with
my father."

"Why was that?"

"He didn't approve of her career choice.  They had a falling out and
she left.  It had nothing to do with me.  I tried hard not to get in
the middle of it."

"So you didn't see a potential threat that your sister might contest
the Will?"

"No."

"Did you father?"

"I don't know what my father thought.  I doubt it.  She'd made no
indication that she wanted anything from my father or from Jordan &
Mitchell."

"Thank you, no further questions."

The Judge looked at Attorney Blair, "Your witness, counselor."

He stood and made his way to the front of the courtroom.  He cleared
his throat and said, "Hello, Cameron.  I'm attorney Joseph Blair.  As
you probably know, I represent the District of Columbia's D.A."

"Yes."

"Did you know Mason Garrett?"

"No."

"Never heard of him?"

"No."

"Did you follow your sister's career?"

"No."

"Did you know she'd arrested Mason Garrett and several others in a big
drug sting in D.C.?"

"No."

"Have you ever known your father to hire outside help or employ any
strong arm tactics in the execution of his business?"

"No.  Just the usual politics."

"Uh huh.  Do you get the D.C. Gazette?"

"Yes, the company gets several papers from the East coast, including
the New York Times and the D.C. Gazette."

"Do you read them?"

"Sometimes.  I usually don't have time."

Attorney Blair returned to the table and opened his briefcase.  He
removed a thin photo album with a gold colored cover and approached
the bench, handing it to the Judge.  Cameron's eyes followed the photo
album.

"Judge Henry, the prosecution would like to enter this as Exhibit D."

The judge made a note, opened the book, and flipped through it
quickly.  She handed it back to the attorney and said, "Very well."

Blair approached Cameron and held up the album.  He turned to show it
to the Jury, and then turned back to Cameron.  "Do you recognize this
album?"

Cameron cleared his throat.  "Where did you get that?"

"Answer the question, Mr. Jordan."

"Yes, I recognize it."

"Does it belong to you?"

"It was kept at the house."

"The house?"

"My father's house."

"Do you live at your father's house?"

"Yes."

"Then it was kept at your house."

"Yes."  He swallowed.

Attorney Blair opened the front cover and held up the book.  "Is that
your writing?"

"Yes."

"For the benefit of the jury, it is stamped with a rubber stamp that
says 'Property Of:' and then Cameron Jordan's name is printed below
that."

He looked at the Judge.  "I'd like to show this exhibit to the jury."

The judge nodded.  He walked over to the jury box and handed it to the
foreman, who thumbed through it silently.  He quietly handed it to the
next juror.  While this was going on, Attorney Blair continued.

"For the record, this book is full of newspaper articles on Clara
Jordan.  Virtually every time her name or picture appeared in the D.C.
Gazette, it was removed and placed in this album.  So it would seem
that Cameron Jordan did keep track of his sister's career.  The
question is: why?"

He turned to Cameron Jordan.  "My question to you is … did you do this
for yourself?"

"No," he said quietly.

"Who did you do it for?"

"My father."

"Your father asked you to do it?"

"Yes."

"Could you elaborate on that please?"

"He asked me to read the D.C. papers and cut out any articles on
Clara."

"Why?"

"I don't know why."

Attorney Blair raised his eyebrows.  Cameron reacted.  "I didn't know
why!  I figured he just wanted to know, keep tabs on her.  He may not
have wanted her to inherit but she was still his daughter and I
thought it was his way of showing that he cared."

"That wasn't the purpose of the album, was it?"

"No."

"When did you find out what the purpose was?"

"Not until Clara was kidnapped."

"Then what happened?"

"I questioned my father.  I took the book and looked at the old
articles and realized he had underlined names of certain people."

"Which names were those?"

"People Clara had arrested, or put away."

"Like Mason Garrett."

"Yes," his voice was barely audible.

"Please speak up so the court reporter can hear you, Mr. Jordan."

"Yes!  I confronted him and he denied having any involvement."

"So you had heard the name Mason Garrett before."

"No!  I'd only seen it underlined in the album."

"But you knew the name."

"Yes," he said in a defeated tone.

"You truly had no knowledge of your father's plans."

"No."

"What was the result of your confrontation with your father?"

"He said not to worry.  He was handling everything."

"Did you know what that meant?"

"Not really.  I assumed he was using his resources to try and find
her."

"But he wasn't."

"Apparently not."

"For the record, one last time; you had no knowledge of your father's
plans or his contact with Mason Garrett, or any plans to hire a killer
for your sister?"

"No!  I may not be the poster boy for Sibling's 'R Us, but I love my
sister."

Clara snorted again.

"That will be all."

XXXXXXXXXX
CLARA & WALTER'S TOWNHOUSE
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
SATURDAY, 11:30 AM

The trial went on for three days into the following week.  Because of
the damning evidence presented by the scrapbook and the testimony of a
maid at the Jordan Estate, recounting hearing conversations between
Jr. and Sr., Clara didn't have to testify.  I was extremely relieved
and so was she.

I did testify, as did Mulder regarding our investigation and our
confrontation with Mason Garrett and the information he gave us
regarding the payoff to kill Clara and his own botched ransom attempt.
I also testified about my conversation with Orlando Jones in which he
displayed apathy and a lack of interest in his daughter.  That wasn't
damning in and of itself, but it lent credence to his lack of remorse.

On Wednesday afternoon, the jury convened to deliberate.  It was a
nerve-racking hour later when the jury came back with a verdict.

Orlando Jordan stood to receive his verdict.  The foreman of the jury
stood and read:

"We the people of the District of Columbia find the following in the
District vs. Orlando Jordan:

On the count of conspiracy to commit murder one:  guilty.
On the count of bribery to commit murder one:  guilty.  We recommend
the highest sentence of incarceration with adequate medical
treatment."

Clara stood and put her face in her hands.  I stood and turned her by
the shoulders and hugged her over the barrier between the front row
and the prosecution table.

The judge set a sentencing hearing for two days later, on Friday.
Orlando was to be held without bond until then.

Friday came and went and we did not attend the hearing.  Attorney
Blair called to inform us that he had received 25 years for conspiracy
to commit murder and 10 for bribery to commit murder to run
consecutively.  He was not a well man and they didn't expect him to
live more than five years, which probably meant that he would spend
the rest of his life behind bars or until he needed 24 hour medical
care.

Clara cried for two days straight and I took the days off.  We did a
lot of eating and talking and hanging out on the couch watching
movies.

Saturday morning we slept in.  We'd both been exhausted emotionally
and physically.  We hadn't made love all week but it didn't bother me
-- I knew she would let me know when she was ready.  I was just glad
that I could be there for her and she seemed to appreciate it.

She was glad that her father was behind bars, but she was dealing with
the acceptance that he could have been so cold hearted as to want her
dead.

We got up and ate breakfast, showered and finally made it into sweats
and tee shirts by 11:00 AM.

There was a knock on the door.  I left Clara doing dishes in the
kitchen and went to answer the door.  I figured maybe Mulder or Scully
were coming to see how Clara was doing.

I looked out the peephole and felt a fizzle of alarm.  But I tamped it
down and said, "Just a minute."

I went back to the kitchen and Clara turned to face me, "Who is it?"

"It's your brother.  Do you want me to let him in?"

She closed her eyes and her shoulders drooped.  "Yeah, I guess so."

I returned to the door and opened the chain lock and swung the door
open.  We appraised each other frankly.  He was a bit shorter than I
was, muscular but in an athletic way.  He was probably six feet tall
to my six feet, 2 inches.

"Cameron," I greeted him simply.

He nodded at me.  "May I come in?"

I opened the door wider and stood aside, waving him in.  He entered
and looked around the living room then turned to me.  "So you're
Walter Skinner.  We were never formally introduced."

"No, we weren't."

"I saw you in court."

"Likewise."  It struck me how utterly inane this conversation was.

Clara finally exited the kitchen and approached us.  She stepped in
front of me and leaned back into my chest.  My hands came up and
rested lightly on her waist.  She was obviously looking to me for
support.  I had to ask anyway, "Clara, do you want me to leave you two
alone?"

"No, whatever he has to say, he can say to both of us."

"Why don't we sit down?" I suggested.

We moved to the couch and Cameron took a seat in the armchair kitty
corner to the sofa.  "Clara, I came to just say that … I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?!"  She laughed but there was no humor in it.

He hung his head.  "I know you have no reason to believe me but I had
no idea what he was doing.  I know he can be a cold bastard, believe
me, I know, but I didn't think he'd go that far.  It never occurred to
me that he could."

"Hire someone to bump me off?" she suggested helpfully, a heavy dose
of sarcasm weighing her words.

"I know you probably don't believe me, but I swear, I'd never hurt
you, Clara, not intentionally."

She sighed and sunk back into the sofa.  "I don't know you anymore,
Cameron.  I don't know if I ever did."

"Yeah, well, I never really knew you either.  I guess we're both at
fault that way.  We each took our own paths and never made the effort
to find out what mattered to the other."

Clara swallowed.  "Maybe.  But I always felt it was you and Dad
against Mom and me.  And when she died, I just figured it was me
against the world.  You never did anything to make me feel otherwise."

"I know, and I regret that, Clara.  I do.  It was selfish.  I really
don't have any excuse except my own ambition.  I wanted the company
and I spent all my time learning the ropes and making sure I was in a
position to take it over.  I got caught up in it."

"I don't fault you for your ambition, Cameron, but some things are
more important than your career."

"Yes, they are and I realize that now."

"Why the sudden revelations?"

"I don't want you to think I'm Dad.  I'm not.  Yes, I'm savvy in
business.  I know how to make money and grease wheels and play the
politics.  But I'm not a ruthless bastard.  I do value people over
money."

"I hope so."

"I know you only have my word on that."

"That's kind of sad, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I think so.  I want things to change, Clara."

"How so?"

"I want to be a part of your life."

Her face scrunched into an expression of distaste.  "Cameron it's been
so long."

"I know," he cut her off.  "And I don't mean I want to be up your ass.
I don't mean that.  But I want us to be on speaking terms, maybe have
dinner once a month."  He paused.  "I have a girlfriend."

She raised her eyebrows.  "You do?  You mean you found time for one?"

"Yeah, believe it or not."  He smiled.  "Her name's Maya Graham.
She's a graphic designer."

"Works for the company?"

"Not directly.  We hired her to do some ad campaigns.  That's how I
met her.  I think you'd like her."

"I probably would."

We sat in awkward silence for a minute.  I offered, "Can I get either
of you something to drink?  We have a pot of coffee made."

"No, not for me," Cameron said.  "I won't be staying long."

"So what now, Cameron?" Clara asked.

"I don't know.  Can we make a date to go out to dinner?  Maybe you and
your boyfriend and me and Maya can meet somewhere between South
Carolina and D.C."

"Fiancé."

"What?"

"Walter's my fiancé."

"Oh!" he exclaimed.  "I didn't realize, I'm sorry, I just …"

"Surprised?"

"That someone wants to marry you?  No."

She smirked.  "I'm happy, Cameron.  I've never been this happy.  And I
had no intentions of infringing on the business in any way.  I never
wanted Daddy's money.  I don't know why he thought I might.  If I did,
don't you think I would have come groveling by now?"

"I'm sorry I fibbed, Clara.  I did know about the album, but I swear
those things weren't underlined before.  He must have done it just
weeks before he ..."

She nodded.  "I believe you."

He smiled.  "I've been a terrible brother."

"I haven't been much of a sister either."

"Let's try to do better, huh?"

"Yeah, I will."

The stood up and hugged and I bit my lip, feeling like I was intruding
on something.  I got up and mumbled something about getting some
coffee and disappeared into the kitchen.  I couldn't help keeping one
ear tuned to the voices in the living room, though.

"So, you're really gonna marry a white guy?"

Clara laughed.  "Yeah, I really am."

"He treats you good?"

"He treats me like gold, Cam."

"He loves you?"

"Yes."

"You love him?"

"Very much."

"Well that's all right, then."

I turned into the living room again in time to see him pull her
forward and kiss her on the forehead.  He released her and walked to
me, sticking out his hand.  "Nice to meet you, Mr. Skinner."

"Walter.  Nice to meet you too, Cameron."

"Walter, take care of her, huh?"

"Oh, I will.  I always do."

He nodded.  "Thanks for not punching me in the nose when you opened
the door."

I chuckled and shook my head in amusement.  I liked the kid in spite
of myself.  He was 36 years old but I still thought of him as a kid.

Clara smiled.  "Thanks for coming, Cam and sticking out the olive
branch.  We have a long ways to go but this is a start."

"Yeah, I hope so.  Take care big sister."

"Take care, baby brother."

He nodded and made his way to the door and let himself out as we waved
to him one final time.

I set my coffee down on the coffee table and opened my arms.  Clara
flew into them, tears in her eyes.  "I didn't expect that," she
whispered.

"He seems to genuinely want to mend fences."

"Yeah, I hope so.  I really don't think he's like my father.  I mean,
he is in some ways; he's had to be.  But he's not ruthless like my
Dad."

"He doesn't seem to be.  I didn't know whether I believed him in
court, but I believed him today."

"Yeah me too.  At least, I want to believe him and trust him so much.
Is that stupid?  Taking a dumb chance?"

"No, sweetheart.  We have to hope, right?  We have to give people the
benefit of the doubt.  He didn't have to come here.  He could have
gone back to Hilton Head and never talked to you again."

"God, it would be nice to be a family again, even if it is just him
and me.  He's all I have left."

I cupped her face and kissed her gently.  "You'll always have me,
baby."

"Thank God."


PART 3 (NC-17)
ONE MONTH LATER
VIRGINIA STATE PENITENTIRY
2:00 PM

I felt Clara jump as the heavy iron doors closed behind us.  The room
we entered was carpeted with gray indoor/outdoor carpeting, not
exactly cheery.  The beige, cinder block walls didn't help either.

I had tried to talk her out of this, but she wouldn't be dissuaded.
She wanted to see her father one last time and then promised that she
wouldn't need to go back again.  I knew she couldn't honestly make
that prediction, but I wanted to believe her.  I loved her and I do
whatever I could to see that she got what she needed.

I still didn't really understand what she expected to get out of this
encounter, but it was important to her.  She'd said, "I need closure."

I would have thought that having the man convicted of trying to kill
her would have been closure enough, but it was not for me to decide.
I just knew this wasn't going to be easy and I hated to see her in
pain of any kind, physical or emotional.

The best I could do was be there for her and prop her up if she looked
like she was going to crumple.  I'd talked with Mulder about this,
asking what would possess her to want to see the man.  Mulder had
explained that she hadn't talked to the man in years, even after his
arrest.  She'd seen him in court, but still hadn't talked directly to
him.  And like the person who is told a relative is dead, they need to
see the body to make it become real for them or they would always
wonder if there wasn't a chance the person wasn't really who everyone
said they were.  He gave that metaphor to explain her need to talk
directly to her father, to make it real, to put the final nail in the
coffin of their relationship so to speak.

She sat down at the small booth and waited.  I stood behind her, my
hands on her shoulders.  She took a deep breath when the door opened
on the other side of the glass partition and Orlando Jones was
shuffled into the room.  He was not shackled.  He did look worse than
when in court.  His face was sporting several days of stubble, his
hair was puffy and uncombed and it was probably my imagination but his
hair seemed to have more gray than it did a month ago.  He was wearing
a beige jump suit that all the prisoners in general population wore.

The only indication of his surprise was a slight widening of the eyes.
Then he gingerly sat down in the chair and picked up the phone on his
side of the petition.  Clara did the same and there was silence for a
few minutes.  Then she said, in a soft voice.  "I needed to see you
one last time."

He nodded but otherwise didn't respond.  Then she asked, her voice
little more than a breath of air, "Why?"

He closed his eyes and swallowed harshly.  Then he croaked, "I think
you know why."

"Did you really believe I wanted your money or your company after all
this time?"

His mouth opened and closed and then said, "I wasn't sure.  I thought
you hated me and that would be the perfect revenge, to take away all
I'd worked for my whole life."

I muttered, "Paranoid much?"

Clara shot me a glance and Orlando asked, "What did he say?"

"He asked if you were paranoid," she stated blandly.

He smiled.  "This must be the big FBI man."

"Yes," she answered, her voice softening.

He looked at me and said something.  I saw Clara scowl and I asked,
"What did he say?"

She turned to look at me over her shoulder.  "He said I didn't tell
him you were white."

I scowled and then shook my head, deciding I was going to resign from
the debating society.  She and I knew what we were all about.  I
really didn't give a damn if anyone else, particularly Orlando Jones
understood or approved.

She turned back to him and said, "You pleaded innocent."

He nodded.

"Why?"

"My lawyer told me too."

"Your lawyer tried to make it look like this was all Garrett's idea
and he just used your name to lend credibility to his actions or shift
the blame to you."

"I think he actually believed that."

"It's not true though is it?"

"No."

"You're in here for life.  You have nothing else to lose by telling me
the truth."  She paused.  "What the hell did I do to you to make you
hate me so much?"

"I didn't hate you."

"How can you say that?" she asked, her voice rising.  "You tried to
have me killed!"

"Do you really want me to be honest?"

She gulped and nodded.

He looked at the ceiling as though looking for guidance and then back
down at her.  "I didn't feel much of anything for you, hatred or
anything else except maybe indifference. You'd been gone so long, I
didn't know who you were anymore or really care.  In the beginning,
you reminded me of your mother, so damned independent and mouthy.
Thought you knew it all. I couldn't abide that.  You wouldn't …"

"Do what you wanted me to do?" she suggested, a sarcastic note in her
voice.

He nodded.  "I guess.  I don't really even know anymore, darlin'."

"Don't call me darlin'.  You lost that right a long time ago."

He sighed.  "I guess I did.  If it makes any difference … I'm sorry.
I wish I'd called and talked to you.  I wished I'd just outright asked
you if you wanted anything from me."

I leaned over to look at the side of her face.  I could see the tears
welling up in her eyes.  "All I ever wanted was for you to love me.
After Mama died, I had no one to go to, no one to lean on.  All you
ever did was yell and scream at me.  You never approved of a single
thing I did.  You never said, 'good job or I'm proud of you', nothing.
So I learned to take care of myself and make my own decisions.  I
knew, or thought I knew, that no matter what I did, it wouldn't be
good enough for the great Orlando Jones."  She paused.  "Because I
wasn't a boy.  I wasn't Cameron and it was as simple as that."

He looked at her.  "I don't know what to say to you.  I can't even
remember what it is that I thought I wanted from you."

"Did you ever love me?" she asked, her voice cracking.

"Yes, when you were little."

"And I was controllable?" she asked, her voice gaining a thread of
iron.

"Maybe, I don't know as I analyzed it that much."

"Maybe you should have."

He sighed. "Yeah, maybe I should have.  I spend my life, devoted my
life to business and I didn't really have time for children.  That was
your mother's department.  And then when she was gone … I didn't know
how to raise children, nor did I want to.  But I did love you in my
own way.  I guess I never really knew how to show love.  I was never
taught."

"Is that an excuse?"

"No, it's a fact.  I've always known there was something missing in
me.  I saw my friends, the pride and joy they took in spending time
with their families.  I never felt that.  The only time I felt pride
was when Cam would excel in school or show interest in the business.
The business was my life."

"And your lover," she added.

"Yes, I guess it was."  He looked at her blankly.

Clara sighed deeply.  "Just answer me one question, yes or no.  If
Garrett had succeeded in killing me, would you have felt any remorse,
any regret?"

He looked at her and licked his lips.  "Yes, I think I would have."

She nodded.  "I won't be back," she said.

"I understand," he said.  As she began to hang up the phone he
hollered, "Wait!"

She put the phone back to her ear.  "What?"

"Two things.  How is Cameron?"

"He's a little shell shocked.  I believe he knew nothing of your
plans."

"I can assure you, he didn't.  He wouldn't have approved or gone
along."

"I'm glad."

"Me too, actually, as hard as that is to believe.  Is he all right?"

"Yes, he'll be fine."

"Good."

"And the second thing?" she asked, sounding anxious know to get this
over with.

"Huh?"

"You said there were two things."

He nodded and then met her gaze again.  "It was a stupid and callous
thing to do.  I can't help who I am, who I was, but I am sorry,
Clara."

"Sorry you did it or sorry you got caught?"

I saw moisture pool in his eyes, but he held it in check.  "Both," he
said softly.

She nodded.  "Good bye, Daddy."

"Good-bye, Clara."

They both hung up and he watched as I slid my arm around her waist and
guided her to the door.  I pounded on it and the guard opened it.  I
looked back in time to see another guard, lifting Orlando out of his
chair and his face was in his hands.  Maybe the son of a bitch did
feel some remorse, but it would be impossible to tell if it was real,
or just lamentation that he'd been caught.

I led her out of the prison.  She was wearing her best poker face and
walked stiffly.  We made it out the door and across the parking lot.
I stopped and stooped to unlock the passenger side door of the car for
her.  When I straightened up, I felt my chest squeeze tight at the
look on her face.  He face had crumpled into a mask of agony and her
shoulders were hitching as she tried to swallow her tears.

I muttered, "Awww, Baby, come here."

I gathered her into my arms and she broke down, her body shaking with
gut wrenching sobs.  Her warm tears soaked the shoulder of my shirt
and I just kept holding her tight and cooing to her.  "You were so
brave in there, Clara.  God, honey, I hate that he hurt you like this.
I'm here for you.  I love you so much."

Her sobs quieted to silent tears, her shoulders sagged, and finally
she retreated to small hitching breaths.  She straightened away from
me and I reached into my back pocket, handing her my handkerchief.
She blew her nose noisily and wrapped up the cloth, handing it back to
me.  I stuck it in my back pocket and hugged her again.  I kissed her
forehead and said, "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, take me home, Walter."

I kissed her nose and she smiled.  I opened the car door and held it
for her as she slipped into the passenger seat.  I hurried to my side,
unlocked, and slid behind the wheel.  The trip home was virtually
silent.  After a few minutes though, she reached across the seat.  I
laced my fingers with hers and gave a reassuring squeeze.

She said one thing the entire ride home.  She looked at me.  I glanced
at her and back at the road.  She whispered, "Thank God I have you."

I smiled gently and squeezed her hand again.  "And thank God I have
YOU."

She turned back to the window and watched the scenery fly by the
window for the rest of the trip.  We arrived home and made our way
quickly inside.

XXXXXXXXXX
CLARA & WALTER'S TOWNHOUSE
GEORGETOWN, D.C.
LATER THAT EVENING

I made chicken Parmesan for dinner.  He'd wanted to cook for me but
I'd insisted.  I knew it was silly, but I felt a need to DO something,
to feel useful and appreciated.  The visit with my father had shaken
me to the core, despite my mostly outward appearance of calm while I
was in there.

He'd seemed so cold.  I'd hoped maybe I would see something different
from when I was a teenager, cringing under his authority.  But I
didn't.  He was the same man.  But there was a difference.

I was not the same woman.

I had grown and developed and come a long way emotionally.  I'd made
mistakes, learned from them, and then moved on.  But mostly, I felt a
new confidence in myself, a new self-esteem.  And most of it had to do
with the man sitting at the dinner table, making yummy noises as he
devoured my chicken Parmesan.

I didn't feel that way because I depended on him for my sense of self-
worth.  I'd learned a long time ago that depending on someone else for
your self-esteem was a dangerous game to play.  No, it wasn't that.
It was his belief in me that made me feel so good.  He truly admired
me for my brain, my spirit, my principals, and my capabilities as a
cop and as a woman.  He didn't see limitations because of my gender,
within reason.  He was protective, but I understood that was born out
of love, not out of a sense that I couldn't take care of myself.

Everybody needed somebody and boy did I need him.  He wanted to
protect me, but if I asked, he stepped back gracefully and let me
fight my own battles.  He didn't want me to go see my father.  He
thought it was a mistake that would dredge up awful memories and maybe
create some new bad ones.  But he'd deferred to my need and judgment
and let me do it anyway, quietly standing by and being my rock when I
crumpled into a heap afterwards.  He made me want to be the best ME
that I could be.  I loved him for that and so many other things.

He smiled at me and grunted as he took a sip of his milk and patted
his stomach.  I chuckled at his obvious enjoyment of the food.  I
loved to see him enjoy food.

He set his glass down and smiled at me.  We were silent until I became
a bit uncomfortable under his gaze and asked, "What?"

He smiled wider.  "I love you."

I smiled back, always feeling that little thrill dart when I heard him
say those three little words.  "I love you too."

"My belly's full, I'm warm and I'm living with the woman I love.  Does
life get any better than this?"

I chuckled again.  "I don't know, does it?"

"Well, there is one more thing that could make it better."

"What's that?"

His smile vanished and he looked at me, suddenly serious.  I
straightened in my chair, wondering if something was wrong.  He said
quietly, "If the woman I love would marry me."

I felt tears sting my eyelids as I smiled.  "You know I will. I
already said I would.  I'm wearing this huge rock, remember?" I asked
jokingly, holding up my hand and moving my finger back and forth.  The
2-1/2 carat rock caught the light and sparkled.

"I remember, but the woman of my dreams has been hesitant to set a
date."  He looked at me expectantly.

"You want to set a date tonight?"

"As soon as possible.  I'm tired of waiting, Clara.  I don't want to
be your significant other or your boyfriend or your fiancé anymore.  I
want to be your husband.  I want you to be my wife."

I smiled.  "I want the same things."

"So ..."

"So let me get the calendar," I teased and hopped up from the table,
pulling the calendar by the phone off the wall.  I approached him and
he slid his chair back, patting his lap.  I laughed and slid onto his
broad, muscular legs, putting one arm around his neck as I sat
sideways.  I laid the calendar on the table with the other hand and
opened it.

"How much time do you need to plan a wedding?"

"Not a lot.  I don't want anything very fancy.  I want small, with
just a couple of friends."

"A month or so be enough time?" he asked earnestly.

"Yeah, I can work with that," I beamed at him.

He grinned back and ran his finger over the calendar.  "A Saturday the
best?"

"Of course."

"O.K., just for wiggle room, how about the fifth Saturday from now.
That will give you five weeks."

We pinpointed the date and I plucked a pen out of his shirt pocket and
circled it boldly, several times.  I didn't write wedding or anything
else.  I just made a picture of two circles, hooked together like
wedding rings.  He smiled softly and swallowed.

His gaze met mine and he pulled the pen from my grip.  Without
preamble he reached up and started undoing the buttons on my blouse.
"Walter!" I exclaimed.

"What?" he asked casually.

"I have to do the dishes."

"They can wait.  This is more important."

"Oh really!"

"Yes," he stated simply.  He'd already gotten my blouse open and slid
his hand up my torso to cup my left breast and squeeze it.  I moaned
as his thumb flicked over my nipple, causing it to pucker tightly and
tingle.

His hand quickly slid behind my back and unclasped my simple, cotton;
white bra and every move made him increase his speed and seem a little
more frantic.  I got caught up in his energy and began unbuttoning his
shirt.  Before long, he stood, carried me into the living room, and
tore off my shirt and hanging bra.  He made immediately for my jeans
and unsnapped and unzipped them, yanking them off my legs, almost
roughly.  I caught his face in my hands and kissed him hard,
forgetting all about the dirty dishes on the table.  I pressed my bare
chest against his and yanked his shirt down his arms.

We speedily shed the rest of our clothes and as I took his hand to
head for the bedroom, he croaked, "No, right here."

He sat on the couch, pulling me down with him.  I straddled his thighs
and wrapped my hand around his towering erection.  He moaned and then
his hand grasped the back of my thighs and slid in between my legs,
his fingers testing my readiness.  He moaned again when my wetness
flowed over his fingers.

I gasped and whispered in his ear.  "So wet.  You always make me so
wet."

He grunted and grasped my hips, pulling me into position over his
cock, which I still held, stroking gently.  I lined us up and felt his
bulbous head pushing past my swollen lips.

I sighed as he gently lowered me, reveling in the feeling, as I did
every time of feeling his enormous cock filling me to the brim.  He
was so long and thick it often took my breath away at first.

When I was seated firmly, he pulled my hips against his pelvis and
ground into me.  We began kissing, slowly and tenderly at first.  But
our excitement quickly rose and we were devouring each other's mouths
in no time.

He finally pulled back, gulping for breath and putting his forehead
against mine.  He flexed his hips up and I felt his cock move slightly
within my walls.

I sighed deeply.  "You feel so good."

"Make love to me, Clara," he said in a lust filled voice.

I began rising and falling on his staff, marveling anew at how hard he
always seemed to me.  My walls were being massaged deliciously as I
impaled myself over and over again on his lap.  He leaned forward and
latched his lips onto my throbbing nipple and I shouted with joy as I
felt the familiar tingle of electricity race from my chest to my womb.
My internal muscles clamped down on him in response.  And he groaned
around my nipple, sending incredible vibrations through my torso.

Without warning, he tipped me sideways and down onto the couch on my
back, holding his weight on one elbow.  The other hand reached between
us and massaged my spongy, swollen clit, pressing it against his rigid
hardness.  I gasped and felt my orgasm coil at the base of my spine as
he began to stroke into me again, slowly at first, but picking up
speed.  I raised my legs to grip his waist and spread myself wider.

A short minute or so and he was ramming his incredible length inside
me, bottoming out against my cervix as I shouted, "Ah, ah, ah," with
every impact.

My hands wrapped around him and slid down to squeeze his beautiful ass
cheeks.  He shouted and his strokes became sloppy along with the
massaging of my clit, which was now thrumming on the verge of orgasm.
I pulled one hand back and pinched my nipple sharply, and tumbled over
the edge.

My back arched, my internal muscles convulsed, my nipples throbbed as
the waves of sensation rushed through me.  I was crying out an
incoherent sound but finally managed to shout, "Oh so good!"

He hollered my name, "Clara!  Oh Christ, Baby!"  And then he wailed a
nonsense sound and I felt my insides wash with the warmth of his hot
semen as he pulsed inside me.

He collapsed into the cradle of my thighs, his fingers idly running
through my hair, now damp with sweat at the temples.  He kissed me
languidly on each eyelid, my nose and finally on my mouth, almost in
slow motion, as if loathe to break our contact.

My legs fell to the couch and he shifted his weight off me, kissing
the top slope of my breast and making me shudder.  He looked into my
eyes and said, "In five weeks, I'm gonna call you my wife."

I smiled and nodded, "Yes, you are."

"I still can't believe it sometimes.  I feel like something has to go
wrong."

"Plenty has gone wrong, Walter."

"Oh, I know, but I mean between us."

"Never."

"Never say never."

"O.K., but I love you and I don't see us ever facing anything we can't
handle as long as we're together.  If we can get through something
like this thing with my father, I don't see much else being able to
defeat us."

"You're right about that.  You're such a strong woman, Clara.  I wish
you'd let me be strong for you sometimes."

I laughed incredulously.  "You're strong for me all the time!  Or did
you forget that wonderful display of falling apart in the parking lot
earlier today."

"Oh, honey.  That doesn't mean you're not strong.  That means your
human.  That was an emotionally traumatic thing you did and you were
very brave.  If you hadn't broken down I would have thought something
was wrong with you."

I smiled gently.  "I love you, Walter Skinner."

"I love you too, Clara Jordan."

I was silent a moment and said, "Clara Skinner."

He smiled broadly.  "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?"

"Just trying it out."

"We never really talked about that.  You could keep your name if you
wanted or hyphenate."

"Jordan-Skinner?  No, I don't think so.  I want to be Mrs. Skinner."

He sighed. "I want you to be Mrs. Skinner, more than you'll ever
know."

We kissed again and I said, "We have this nasty habit of making messes
on all the furniture."

He chuckled.  "I'll clean it up.  Meet you in the shower."

"MMM, then I need to go to bed.  I'm tired now."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

We disengaged and stood up gingerly.  As he walked away to get a
dishcloth from the kitchen, I heard him mutter under his breath.
"Clara Skinner, yeah."

I smiled as I headed for the shower.  We were going to be fine, I knew
it.  Despite the sins of my father, and his inability to love me, it
didn't matter so much anymore.  I felt more loved than I ever had in
my
life.

THE END.