I do not own Scorpion or any of these characters.

So this is a *little* mushy and cheesy, but hey, it's fluff and it's supposed to be :) Reviews are much appreciated because I want to know what you guys are liking and what kind of stuff you want to see more of. Thanks! XOXO Jaimee

As Happy raced down the freeway at 115 miles an hour, Happy wondered how it ever came to this. She glanced at the clock —1:45 am. Her head was spinning and the city lights were blurring around her, but she kept two steady hands on the wheel and her eyes locked on the road. But with every inch closer she sped, she wondered what the hell she was doing.

She turned the volume up on her stereo in hopes that it was drown out the millions of thoughts running through her head. But even the blaring drums, strident strum of the electric guitar, and screeching voice of the rock singer were no match for the unwavering voices in her head that were battling between this is such a stupid idea and this is what you want.

The reflective gleam of a silver key on the passenger seat caught her eye. Happy told herself not to look at again. She'd spent so much time staring at that key, turning it over in her hands, running her fingers along it's jagged edge. She had it memorized. She estimated that it was 2 and 1/8th inches long, 14 grams, and made of nickel-plated brass. The metal was dull and rusting in various places, and she could see that it had a small etching on the front - B14.

And every time she saw it, she changed her mind again. She forced herself not to look at it now, or else she might immediately turn around and pretend this never happened. Then again, maybe that was exactly what she needed to do.

That stupid key has been devouring her thoughts and for a split second she has a strong urge to reach over and throw it out the window to be lost on the LA freeway and never to be talked about again. But Happy knew it wasn't that simple. This key was not just a key; it was a metaphor.

-x-

"They couldn't save her." Said Walter as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked at the ground. Paige gave a gasp and her hand went to her heart.

"Oh my god, that's awful." She said, looking to catch the eyes of the other team members. Only Toby would look at her, his eyes deep with regret and sadness. Sylvester twiddled nervously with the buttons on his sweater. Happy kept a stern face, not turning to look at anyone. She had her jaw clenched tight and her hands squeezed together in fists. After a few strained moments of painful silence, Happy inhaled sharply, causing the team to look up at her.

"Well. The job's done. Let's get out of here." And she turned as quickly as she could, pushing her way out of the hospital waiting room without so much as a glance to the others. The team looked around to each other, then to the small boy asleep on the couch. Finally, Paige spoke up.

"What's going to happen to him?" She asked, her voice shaking slightly.

"He has no other family. He's going to be put into the foster care system." Said Toby. Paige went over and sat with the boy, stroking his hair softly like she sometimes does to Ralph. When the social worker arrives, the team takes one last long look at the boy, sending him silent wishes of well being, before heading out themselves.

-x-

Back at the garage, Happy swung her hammer down viciously on the piece of cold metal. She let her anger take control of her and she beat down on the scrap steel. She wasn't building anything, she just didn't know how else to get rid of this horrible fire that ran under her skin and tightened all her muscles and pinched every nerve. She was angry with Walter for frying the security system that would have kept Marissa and her son safe from the Russian mafia men for just a while longer. They could have worked through a plan B. But instead, it resorted to Marissa stuffing her late husband's jewels in her pockets, scooping up her son, and jumping into the back of an old Sedan that Happy hotwired.

But mostly, she was angry with herself. Had Happy not crashed the damn thing into the electrical post, causing the engine to burst into flames, they might have gotten away, to safety. But Happy took that corner a little too sharp, and Toby only had enough strength the pull the boy from the car and drag Happy by her wrist into a nearby alleyway to hide. Happy remembered Toby's deep voice telling her to move! Move! We have to get out of here, Happy! But Happy's eyes couldn't peel away from the approaching black men carrying four extremely dangerous Russian criminals. They pulled Marissa from the car, already unconscious, took her to their van, and drove away. It wasn't for another six minutes and 43 seconds before Toby would get a call from Walter telling him they had the van stopped by police on South Fresno.

At the hospital, they discovered that Marissa had extreme internal bleeding and severe head trauma, leaving her dead and her son alone.

As Happy felt the sting of tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, she clenched her jaw tighter and swung her hammer faster. When finally the motion became too difficult, she dropped the hammer to the floor and sat back down in her chair, her elbows resting on her desk and burying her face in her hands. She didn't know how long she sat like that, but Toby's voice just kept coming back to her telling her to take deep breaths and focus on slowing down her heart rate and her thoughts. She had gotten so used to that raspy voice inside her head that she almost didn't realize when it was crystal clear and materializing from mere feet away.

"Are you ok?"

Happy's head snapped up to look at him. "Ya, I'm fine, Doc," She says as she places both her hands on the edge of her desk and pushes back to stand.

"Don't lie. It's not good to keep this balled up inside of you." Toby's eyes buried into her as watched her closely for any signs of her mental state.

"Not now." She swings her bag over her shoulder and looks to push past him, to head for the door, but Toby's hand grips her arm.

"Happy, this was an extremely traumatic event with ties to your own childhood. There is no way this isn't affecting you." He loosens his grip and slides his hand down her arm until it holds her own. She stares at their hands with her brow furrowed and lips turned down in confusion. He pulls his other hand from his pocket and brings it to meet hers. He presses something small and cold into her palm and closes her fingers around it.

"Whenever you're ready to talk, I'll be there." He drops her hand and turns on his heel, apparently done with the conversation for the moment. Happy uncoils her fingers to reveal a small silver key. She stares at the key in her hand for several moments in silence, unsure of what to make of her emotions. Finally, she slams it down on her desk and walks out of the garage without giving it a second glance.

-x-

Happy almost doesn't expect the key to be there on her desk the next morning, as if it was some wild dream brought upon by the previous days events. But then, she is extremely glad that it wasn't just a dream because she would have to wonder what the shrink would say about a dream involving him and his house key. She tries not to pay attention to the key much at first, stuffing it in one of her drawers when she realizes he's not asking for it back. But she catches herself constantly pulling it out and running her fingers over it. There are days after tough cases where she holds it and swears it is emitting some kind of warmth, drawing her to it, begging her to use it. And then there are moments when its comfortable warmth turns into a painful burning, as if the key is made of flames that get impossibly hotter the longer she clings to it, so she throws the key down, hides it from herself. But after all it is a just a key, and perhaps it is her heart that ignites when she holds it.

-x-

Whatever compels her to take the key home that night is something inexplicable and foreign to Happy. Maybe the city lights were too bright, the streets were too loud, her apartment too quiet, her head was too full or her soul too empty. But whatever it was, it was strong enough to change her stubborn mind.

For a moment, flying down that LA freeway, she considers driving all the way to the ocean and up the coast and not stopping until she runs out of gas. That would make about as much sense as where she was heading to currently. The North Pole would make just about as much sense.

But ultimately, she parked her truck in front of the cheap apartments on the east side of town. She turns off the lights and the engine and lets out a heavy. Her body feels heavy, like it's made of cement and she can't move an inch. But she wouldn't be here if this isn't what she wanted. Somewhere in her she finds the strength to pick up the key and glide her thumb across it again as she has done so many times since he gave it to her. Finally she moves out the truck and with one final inhale, filling her lungs with cool night air and her blood with courage, she heads towards the building and up the stairs to the second floor.

When she first tries it in the lock, it doesn't budge. Half of her believes that it won't work and she should just turn around and go home because it clearly wasn't meant to be, but after a final, aggressive twitch of her thumb, the key turns and the door swings open.

His apartment is quiet. She's been inside his apartment before, so she is unsurprised to see his shelves lined with books and mismatching furniture, clearly bought with the cost in mind rather than the quality of the decor. There are a few empty coffee mugs, a few old newspapers open on the kitchen table. She wanders into the hallway and there is a soft light coming from around the corner, where Happy knows is his bedroom.

Happy stands in the doorway, watching a sleeping Toby as his chest rises and falls. He had fallen asleep with a book in his hand and the lamp still on. He looked strangely peaceful that way, and suddenly Happy felt the room spinning. She latched onto the molding to keep herself upright. There was a tightening in her chest. In truth, Happy had never thought she would get this far. What happens now? She wants to run but the cement has to returned to her bones. She tries to calm her breathing, to steady herself. She hears Toby jostle a little in his sleep. She silences every nerve in her body. She realizes then that she has nothing to say to him, and she wouldn't know how to start even if she did, so she wills herself to move, taking her first step out of the doorway when the floorboards creak under her weight. Happy hears a small gasp from behind her and she whips back around to see Toby sit bolt upright.

"What the hell?! Happy?" He first squints at the doorway, but his eyes grow wider as her figure comes into focus in his vision. Happy doesn't move at first, just stares back at him, each as confused as the other. Her genius mind has never failed her before, but now her brain can't even form sentences. Too many moments pass in shocked silence and Happy realizes that she must be scaring him and that she can't just stand there without saying anything and it was her choice to come to him. So she takes a small step into the room and the soft light from the lamp on the bedside table floods over her. Toby releases some of the tension in his face when he sees the look on hers.

"Happy…" he whispers.

"I don't know what I'm doing here."

And suddenly she's crying. She's not sure why and she hates that he sees her so weak but she can't stop the tears. Toby hurriedly pushes the sheets of his legs and moves to her as fast as his body would let him move. He doesn't say anything, but instead wraps his arms around her and brings her close to him. She lets herself lean into him and she can his heart beating (and rather faster than usual, partially from being awoken to a dark figure in his doorway and partially from that figure being Happy, who he now holds). Tears still roll down Happy's checks, but the pressure is instantly released from her chest. She no longer feels weighed down like stone, but like she weighs nothing at all and Toby is the only thing keeping her from floating away into space. Her head immediately feels lighter and clearer. She revels in her ability to breathe again and she takes long breaths, taking in as much air as possible and Toby as well. He usually smells like strong, dark coffee and stale aftershave but tonight he smells like mint tea leaves. Happy wonders why it was so complicated before. This feeling of bliss can only be attributed to him. This is what you wanted.

Happy does not know how long they stand there. A minute. A million minutes. It is impossible to tell. Her tears have dried and her eyelids start to feel heavy. Happy is shaken from her trance by Toby's voice in her ear.

"Sleep, Happy," he's saying, and she doesn't remember telling her legs to move, but she's somehow made it across the room, Toby gently pulling her and guiding her to his bed. She feels her head hit the pillow and Toby pull the blankets up over her. She feels the bed shift as he gets in next to her and again she can't think straight. She wonders if he thinks she's crazy. She wonders if he knows what's going on with her because she sure doesn't. But just like before, when he hugs her to him, all her thoughts are silenced and eventually fall away. She curls into him, wanting to get closer.

She doesn't know what she's going to say in the morning. She doesn't have a clue what's going to happen next. But in that moment, she decides she doesn't need to know. She feels him press a kiss to her forehead, and a small smile graces her lips as she welcomes sleep's tender hold.

-x-

When she wakes, she knows immediately that she is not in her own room. Her room has west facing windows, so there's no direct sunlight in the morning like there is now. And her bed is nowhere near this comfortable. As her senses come to her, she hears the shower running across the hall. She doesn't really mean to leave so quickly, but she feels a panic set in. She doesn't know how to face him, so she decides not to.

Happy had been avoiding Toby all day, but she knew it was a futile effort. Eventually Toby would seek her out. Eventually they would have to talk to each other, and eventually she would have to address her spontaneous appearance in his bedroom. And sure enough, after a caseless day, Toby saunters up to her workstation. He flashes her a grin and though she tries to remain emotionless, she feels the heat rising in her cheeks, her own skin betraying her.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Fine." She looks back down to her project and fiddles with the wires.

"You left something at my house." He says and his hand reaches for his pocket. He drops a small silver key on her desk. She goes still for a fraction of a second, giving the key a hard look before continuing with her wires.

"That's not mine." She says without looking up at him.

"Yes it is. I gave it to you. Keep it. You might need it again."

She doesn't reply to this, so Toby takes his hint and backs away from her desk.

"See you tomorrow, Happy." He turns to leave and Happy almost lets him.

"Wait…" Happy takes a deep breath. "I never said thank you."

"For what?" He comes gliding back over to her, still smiling. Always smiling.

"For everything. Anything. For being there."

"I told you I would be. Sometimes people just need someone there. Human contact."

No, Happy thinks, not just someone. You.

"Ya...I guess. Well, goodnight then." She drops her head to her project again, willing Toby to walk away. She has nothing else to say. He does walk away, but he pauses before pushing the door open. He turns his head to glance back at her. She can't help looking up at him.

"You know, Happy, I think you always had the key. You just needed to find the lock it opened."