A/N:

**WARNING**This addition is *NOT* Captain Swan...** This is the disastrous date/proposal, and just desserts from Walsh's POV This is going to be a Walsh-centric one-off, (Because Kmomof4 just HAD to have it).
If this is not your cup of tea I completely understand... so feel free to skip it. :) I wrote this at Kmomof4's behest (so you can blame her).
You can blame my bastard of an ex for Walsh's characteristics.

Tonight will be perfect. I've used my connections to get us a reservation at Mama Maria's, because anybody who's anybody must go to Mama Maria's when they get engaged. Emma's going to be so excited once she sees the ring I've picked out for her. I just know she's going to love it.

Once we're engaged she'll finally move out of that dump of an apartment, in with me, and away from that guy, what's his name? … Kevin? Kyle? No, that's not it, starts with a K though. I've never trusted him, I see the way he looks at my Emma.

Walsh insisted on picking Emma up tonight, because he knows that she will be coming home with him to celebrate their engagement, and he doesn't want the hassle of having to figure out what to do with her bug after dinner.

Emma looks absolutely stunning tonight.

He'd had to take a moment to compose himself before she'd gotten into his car, he can tell that she put in extra effort on her appearance tonight. Probably sensing the importance of the evening. He's kept tonight's destination a secret, despite Emma repeatedly telling him time and again how much she doesn't care for surprises. He knows that's just a platitude, her way of letting him know he doesn't have to go out of his way to surprise her. As he drives them to the restaurant, Walsh regales her with tales from work, and the goings on of the prominent people of Boston that he rubs elbows with, on the daily.

He is as proud as a peacock as he escorts Emma through the restaurant. He can feel the eyes of several men in the room taking in the beautiful woman on his arm, even noting a few going so far as to actually turn their heads to follow them to their table. All of the attention being paid to his woman only strokes his ego further.

Pushing in Emma's chair after she's seated, Walsh leans over to whisper in her ear, "All these men staring at you makes me want to take you right here; so they all know you're mine." Emma stiffens at his words, so he decides to brush his lips against the shell of her ear before moving to his seat. Probably wants me just as much as I want her, he muses.

Taking his seat across from her, Walsh continues along with the monologue that he began when he picked her up earlier. "I'm so glad I was able to get the reservation tonight darling. It's nigh impossible to get in here, if you don't know somebody. But luckily I do. Zelena is dating the general manager and was able to pull some strings to get us in, otherwise, we'd be on the waiting list to get in here for months yet."

As their waiter approaches the table, Walsh looks down his nose at the man, not bothering to look at him directly as he speaks, voice dripping condescension, "Bring us a bottle of the '06 Amarone, Dal Forno, Romano, Veneto. We're celebrating our 8 month anniversary," before the poor man can even get a word in edgewise. Walsh dismisses the guy with a wave of his hand and turns his attention back to Emma.

"Right away sir," the waiter replies as he withdraws.

"You look so beautiful tonight Emma, have I mentioned that yet? I can't wait for Christmas when you'll finally get to meet my family in Connecticut." Emma's brow furrows at his statement, poor girl is probably afraid they won't like her. Walsh reaches out for her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze, while bestowing her with a reassuring smile.

When their waiter finally returns with the bottle he requested, Walsh wastes no time at all in ordering his favorite, Osso Buco, for himself, and the Mozzarella and Warm Tomatoes, for Emma. She will have to watch her weight, if she wants to fit into my mother's wedding dress.

The rest of dinner passes in a similar fashion, with Walsh carrying on almost exclusively about what they will see and do when they spend Christmas in Connecticut with his family. Periodically he notices a strained look cross Emma's beautiful features, causing him to wonder if her nerves are truly that rattled by the prospect of meeting his parents. As if he'd ever date someone that lowbrow. So, as his way of assuaging her fears, he presses on even more determined to map out every detail, sans engagement related, that they'll do while in Connecticut.

His big moment has come. The waiter has finally come around, inquiring about dessert. He is a little disheartened when Emma replies, "No thank you, I'm afraid I'm not feeling dessert tonight." Walsh hears her words, as he notices that she has already laid her napkin down on her plate and has begun to rise from her chair.

Walsh laughs as he interjects, waving her to retake her seat while ignoring her protestations, "Oh no Emma! You must try the tiramisu. It's the talk of Boston!"

Emma sighs almost agitatedly, as if she could be anything but happy in my presence, he reassures himself, she does acquiesce to the tiramisu afterall.

When he sees the server bringing the plate around to Emma, Walsh grabs her hand and squeezes as her eyes land on the ring set neatly into the ganache.

"Walsh…" Emma trails off, unable to take her eyes off of the ring, I knew she'd love it, he thinks triumphantly.

"Emma, I know most people wouldn't consider eight months to be a very long time, but I believe we know each other well enough. I see no point in wasting any more time. So, marry me, become Mrs. Walsh Osmond."

"Walsh. I'm sorry. But… no."

"What do you mean, no?"

"I can't marry you. I didn't realize you felt this way, but I thought you knew, I'm not ready for marriage, I'm sorry." Emma pulls her hand free of his grasp, then standing from her seat, she pulls on her coat and heads for the door. Walsh is left at the table, in a room full of strangers, staring at him, mocking him. He can see the laughter, and pity in their eyes.

Unable to take it any longer, he snatches the ring out of the ganache, quickly wiping it off on a napkin, before stuffing it in his pocket. Angrily snatching his wallet from his pocket, Walsh slams down a handful of bills on the table, not caring if there's enough to cover their meal and a tip, or not. Quickly stuffing his wallet back into his pocket, Walsh snatches his jacket from the back of his chair, beating a determined path towards the door, and away from all of the prying eyes.

He will make Emma answer for her abhorrent behavior.

Walsh bursts through the door just moments after Emma, absolutely incensed. Making strides towards her, he can't help but raise his voice at her, as his temper flares.

"How could you do that to me Emma? Do you realize how much of a fool you just made me look? All of those strangers staring at me with pity. We will be getting married, and you will come with me to Connecticut for Christmas, so we can celebrate our engagement with my family."

"Walsh, I am not some Stepford Wife, at your beck and call, to carry out your every whim. We are not getting married, and I am not going to Connecticut. I mean, we've been fighting about Christmas for the last several weeks. In all that time, what made you think I was going to change my mind and decide to go with you?"

"I knew you'd change your mind once we were engaged. My family is expecting us to come together, they're already planning an engagement party for us that weekend, at the country club."

"YOU TOLD THEM?! Why did you tell them before you even asked me?"

Stating as though it was absolutely obvious to anyone with half a brain, "Because I knew it was a sure thing."

"A sure thing?! A SURE THING?! Well, buddy, you got that wrong… now you have to go home with your tail tucked between your legs, and explain to your family how you misled them. Because like I said inside, I'm not marrying you. We are through."

"Don't be like that Emma. You know we'll have a large wedding in the spring, in Connecticut-"

"NO! Just stop right there. Walsh I have told you no, numerous times, we are not getting married, I am not following you to Connecticut. WE. ARE. THROUGH. You are deranged, and I have no idea what I ever saw in you." Emma turns her back to him, and he sees red.

Without conscious thought of what he's doing, just letting his rage run the show now, Walsh's hand snaps out grabbing Emma by the crook of her arm. "Get back here. We are not done."

Emma struggles against his hold, intensifying his rage.

"Let go of me, you lunatic-" Her next words are cut off as his fist connects with her face. Surfacing from his turbulent fury, he realizes what he's just done. Walsh lets go of her arm as she falls back from the force of the blow. She stumbles backward until she hits an antique light post. He can tell that she is trying to shield her shoulder from the impact.

She grits out a venomous, "You bastard," the pain obvious in her voice.

"Emma, it didn't have to be like this." Walsh approaches her, fists still clenching and unclenching, as he tries to come down from the adrenaline high of his tirade.

Before he can do anything else, Emma thrusts her good elbow upward and catches him in the nose. He doesn't even have a chance to register the sheer pain of his shattered nose, before the blood starts gushing like Niagara. It's all he can do to clutch his nose as he stumbles back from her.

Moments later the cops and paramedics arrive on the scene, alerted to the situation by concerned patrons watching the scene from inside the restaurant.

Arriving at the hospital in a separate ambulance from Emma, Walsh is immediately manhandled into a small cramped room that barely has room for the bed, with bars on the window of the door. Before the doctor has even decided to grace him with his presence, the door to his room opens, and none other than Emma's adoptive brother walks in. Shit!

"Walsh Osmond, I am here to place you under arrest."

Fuck! "What for?" Walsh sneers, trying to maintain his air of indifference, in light of that revelation.

"For starters, not paying your full dinner tab, you shorted the restaurant $500, so that is grand larceny. You also committed felony assault and battery, against my sister."

"You have got to be kidding me. Seriously?! That bitch is pressing charges? We wouldn't even be in this situationif she would just listen."

"Nope. Not kidding one bit. Oh, and that bitch, as you so eloquently put it, is my little sister, and believe me, you're getting off easy by being arrested." Walsh notices a subtle shift in David's stance as he approaches him, as he proceeds to mirandize him. "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you at government expense."

"Oh don't worry yourself about me officer, I'll have the best attorney in the Northeast working my defense. I won't spend a single day in jail." Walsh sneers at David.

"We'll see about that, now, right arm against the rail please." With the biggest grin Walsh has ever seen on the man's face, David slaps the cuff on his wrist anchoring him to the bed rail. Job completed, David turns on his heel, leaving Walsh by himself, handcuffed to a hospital gurney, with a shattered nose.

Six Months Later:

"All rise, the Honorable Judge Mills presiding." Honorable, my ass.

"You may all be seated." With a nod to all in the courtroom the judge seats herself behind the bench, "Will the defendant please rise?"

Walsh and his smooth talking, overpriced, good-for-nothing attorney, Robert Gold stand to hear his fate. Out of the corner of his eye, Walsh sees Emma sitting on the bench between David and Killian. He had finally remembered the bastard's name, after he had stolen his girlfriend from him. Is that whore wearing an engagement ring? Walsh seethed, before turning his attention back to the judge before him.

"Mr. Walsh Osmond, you stand before this court, convicted of felony assault and battery in the first degree, and grand larceny. You have been found guilty of your crimes, by a jury of your peers. Is there anything you wish to say before the sentence of law is imposed upon you?"

"No your honor."

"Very well, you are to be sentenced to ten years in the state penitentiary, without the possibility of parole. You are remanded into the custody of the Department of Corrections. Court is adjourned." The judge bangs her gavel, announcing the conclusion of the day's proceedings.

~Fin~