Writing this purely because there are Quintis ideas stuck in my head. Not entirely happy (get the joke?) with this so far but I plan to make up for it since this will be four parts long. Now, onto the usual.

Disclaimer: I do not own Scorpion or these lovely characters in any way, shape or form.

A common misconception was that she was the destroyer, a harbinger of destruction itself. She found pleasure in smashing things and taking out her anger on them. Even the rest of the cyclone saw this in her and considered her their muscle. She was the scorpion with the deadliest and most poisonous venom.

Although, she always considered herself to be quite the opposite. She knew that she was the innovator that they all needed, regardless of her taking part in destruction. She took scrap in her hands and made them into the most amazing machines that the human mind could imagine, let alone comprehend.

She considered everyone else around her to be the destroyers and that was when she found the need to build something aside from her machines: her walls. The only thing in the world that she could depend on was the fact that people would eventually end up hurting her, thus the need for pre-emptive actions.

Yet as she stared down at the rest of the cyclone from the balcony, she could not help but question her need to keep them. It wasn't as if she didn't get hurt around them because she sure as hell did get hurt by certain things that they did; but to some extent, she felt as if she could handle it.

"What are you up to?"

And then there was him. He made it oh so tempting to just relinquish her armour and tell him about how tired she was. She was sick of being thrown away like a discarded toy and he made her feel like saying, "No, this time is different."

Yet, he had hurt her all the same. Even though they both knew that it wasn't his fault, she couldn't help but be terrified of what he could do if she shared her burden with him. What he had done was a stark reminder that he could drop it right back on her. She couldn't—wouldn't let it happen.

"I take a break from work too, you know. Sometimes, I like to watch you guys from here," She said with a shrug and turned to look at him. It seemed almost endearing to her that she could turn the fedora wearing genius into mush. "Just to remember how beautiful machines are supposed to work."

He let out a small gasp. "Now, Happy Quinn," His face was in faux shock as he placed a hand on his chest. "Was that a poetic answer or did my ears fail me?"

"Shut up." She said without malice and they smiled at one another for a moment. She looked back down and she felt him admire her with his eyes. It took all her willpower to remind herself that whatever they both felt was an effect of the dopamine their bodies produced. It was very Walter of her but it didn't really matter.

"Look at them," He pointed to Paige and Walter and he had to lean a bit towards her to keep his voice quiet. She could swear that his fingers experimentally brushed the small of her back. Normally, she would have hit him with a wrench for it; but it seemed okay for once. "Dancing around each other like a couple of ballerinas."

"Read them for me." The words escaped her lips before she could bite her tongue.

"What?"

"Just do it, Doc."

She couldn't find it in herself to tell him that she watched him work too. She refused to admit that she took pleasure in his work. All she did was nudge him with her shoulder and that seemed to be enough to urge him.

"Well," He began, running a hand over his face then putting both his hands together to set his chin on top of his middle fingers. "Do you see the shirt that Walter's wearing?"

"Answer your own question, numb nuts." He rolled his eyes at her. "What's your point?"

"It's red; he's subconsciously trying to catch her attention. I highly doubt that Walter would let himself legitimately plan his outfit choices according to his whole Paige dilemma. Now that that's over, let's move on to the coffee."

"I thought we were past the whole cinnamon thing."

He shook his head, obviously getting a bit more into his work… or play, for that matter. He was enjoying himself and she couldn't help herself from finding it hot. It killed her slowly, like bacteria eating away at her flesh, but she didn't want him to stop. She bit her lip and let him go on.

"There's almond milk in the fridge." He told her and she watched Paige drink from the blue coffee cup that she had deemed to be her own. "She mentioned an article to him the other day about how almond milk is so much healthier than full cream milk. We both know—"

"Walter would never buy into that stuff unless it came from her."

"Exactly."

He reminded her of a child on Christmas morning so she continued to indulge him. "Okay Doc, what's next?"

"He keeps checking his watch," He pointed out to her and he smiled a bit, as if this little tidbit changed the world. "Then looking at her. There's this timer in his head, telling him when to talk to her. If you're going to ask about her, she's an easy read. The tucking of the hair behind the ear is a damn clear signal that she wants to be approached by him."

There was a silence as Paige tucked her hair behind her ear before Walter approached her. Toby took a bow and she raised an eyebrow at him as he held out his hat for tips. She knocked it straight out of his hands and it landed on the couch, causing him to frown slightly. The very sight was enough to make her chuckle.

Her eyes darted to the dollhouse on the table, posing the question that she didn't even need to open her mouth to ask. He nodded and it filled her with contentment to know that even if the subject of them ever being together was too terrifying to approach, they had gotten back the friendship that she valued so highly.

Before they had even begun working on their side project, however, the front door to the Garage opened. She could almost feel the moment when all heads turned to the person they all assumed to be their next client. They both returned to the railing and she heard his sharp intake of breath as he looked down.

"How may I help you?" Walter asked the woman standing in the center of the hustle and bustle of their everyday lives. She observed the woman's tall figure, in spite of the heels, and flowing ginger hair in perfect contrast to her turquoise coat.

She was just about to ask Toby to read the woman for her when she said, "I'm looking for Toby Curtis."

It was the first time she had ever seen Toby rush down the stairs so quickly and she was almost worried that he would fall over. She followed after him shortly and proceeded to her workbench, the perfect view for whatever was about to happen next.

"What are you doing here?"

The question was said without much anger but there is a certain edge to it that he can't keep out. The woman shifted her weight onto her other foot, as if the entire situation made her feel incredibly uncomfortable. It wasn't the type of uncomfortable that he usually made women feel and it made her wonder.

"I know it's been a while but—"

"Try a year and ten months."

That's when it hit Happy straight in the face. It was no ordinary woman that he was speaking to; this was the faceless Belle, the woman that he had proposed to after six months of dating. She remembered being incredibly skeptical, stating that that amount of time wasn't nearly enough.

She had stopped pushing because she could see how incredibly in love he had been with her. It had been the time wherein neither of them were emotionally invested in each other so she had let it happen. Regardless of the grief their romantic entanglements had caused, however, she was grateful their wedding didn't push through.

Belle began with a deep breath and stared Toby right in the eyes, leaving him completely bare. His posture became less rigid and she watched him swallow. "I know that you probably harbor a lot of resentment towards me over what happened between us and I accept that; but I came here on my own terms and I want to speak to you."

"Don't do it."

She never said it out loud but the thought was implanted in her head. She remembered what had happened to him, how he was in complete ruins when Belle had left. All she wanted was for her to disappear so that she could never hurt him again.

It was so hypocritical of her to want to protect him, especially after all the time they had spent hurting one another; but none of it mattered in that moment. There was nothing she could do but stand there and wait with bated breath for his response.

"Let's go to the café across the street, we'll talk there."

How did he always manage to hurt her without meaning to? It felt like someone had punched her in the gut and the wind had gotten knocked straight out of her. She wanted to throw the heaviest wrench within grabbing distance at them as they walked out the door together.

But there was nothing she could do.

After all, she was the second woman he'd ever fallen in love with.