So…this is angsty. Sorry. I heard a song from Bastille today that I'd never heard before, "Sleepsong," and it inspired this. I guess it's easier for me to write angsty fic now because I know Waige was always going to get back together, no matter what. I wish we could see it, but still, it would've happened.
Also—this is just my concept of Paige's internal monologue. Not necessarily what I believe was "right" in terms of what happened between her and Walter, which, let's face it, everyone sees differently anyway.
Her feet were cold.
Paige rolled to the opposite side, blinking against the blinding light from the window she'd forgotten to cover. Her eyes felt rubbed raw, like someone had thrown sand in her face. Walter always kept eye drops in his loft—she would have to peek into the kitchen and ask where he kept them.
You're not in the loft. The realization hit her abruptly, a strange pit forming in her stomach even before she realized why.
It all rushed back in one awful, nauseating wave. The tickets. Ignoring his pleas as she stormed out. Barely making it home before she broke down and sobbed for hours, ignoring repeated calls from the team members she hadn't abandoned. Collapsing into bed with her makeup smeared everywhere, grateful that Ralph wasn't home and she could spare him from the sight until morning.
Paige clasped a hand over her mouth as a shiver wracked her body. It was a dream. It had to be a dream. Her relationship, her family, her job—it hadn't all crumbled in an instant.
Trembling, she grabbed her phone, greeted by seventeen new notifications. She shut it off.
Walter wanted Florence. He'd strayed. Maybe not physically, but certainly emotionally. What else could she call it when he repeatedly eschewed her company for the chemist's?
Paige gathered the comforter in her arms, clutching it to her chest. She was such an idiot. How had she stumbled headfirst into another relationship with another man who didn't really want her? She wasn't as smart as Walter, they'd always known that, but clearly she was so boring, so vapid, that nothing she did stopped the people she loved from getting tired of her.
It was only when she couldn't see any longer that Paige realized she was crying again. She let the tears fall. He'd been hiding something the night he called her the love of his life. She allowed herself to believe those words, thinking they could fight through whatever it was. Promising him they would be okay. Feeling so relieved when she heard about the lecture. Feeling so devastated when there was more.
You should have given him a chance to explain. Paige was losing track of how many times her nagging inner voice insisted that she call, pushing her hand toward the phone until she yanked it back. He'd looked wounded when she walked away. But so had Drew. That didn't mean anything. She couldn't even say with certainty that she hadn't imagined it in a moment of grasping for straws.
Paige grasped her nightstand, fearing that she might be sick and fighting the impulse. She couldn't fall apart like this. She'd wasted years falling apart, waiting for a visit that never came, and if Walter didn't love her, she couldn't spend a moment pining after him the same way. She needed to be stronger than this. For herself. For Ralph.
Ralph. How the hell was she going to tell him? Just the week before, her son had casually floated the idea of them living together. Just saying. When you're ready, I'm okay with it. Her heart ached. Physically ached. Like a heart attack that didn't end.
Maybe Ralph was exactly why she needed to speak to Walter. Try to fix things between them. Try to persuade him that they—the three of them—were worth another shot.
Her pride would never allow that. Deep down, she knew it. And despite his words, despite his insistence that Florence meant nothing, his actions spoke differently. Paige had tried so hard to ignore them, to brush off his dream, to brush off the times she knew they were together even when he didn't tell her, and then she just couldn't anymore. Couldn't stand one more second looking at Walter, knowing that she thought she would spend the rest of her life with him and he'd lost interest before the year was even up.
Paige dragged her hands over her face, clearing the dampness. She fumbled around for a box of tissues, blowing her nose almost embarrassingly loudly. It didn't seem possible that there was anything left in her body to expel, but she kept proving herself wrong.
It had been a mistake. All of it. Joining Scorpion, trying to belong, falling in love. All of it was gone now and Paige had no idea where to start. She had to find a new job, maybe return to Elia. Not the most intriguing work, but it was stable. She had to check on Sylvester—Happy and Toby, too, but at least they had each other. She had to start picking up the pieces immediately, not just for herself, but for everyone.
And Walter. God, Walter. She never wanted to see him again, but that outcome somehow made her ill. What she wanted was to erase the last few months. Just rewind to Christmas and do everything differently.
It wouldn't have made a difference, would it? He'd looked at her like a deer in headlights when she accused him of being attracted to Florence. She would never be that person. All of Walter's talk about her becoming bored, and he'd been the one at risk all along.
Not that she hadn't landed a few blows to his self-confidence. She hadn't meant to be that vicious. She was just so angry and hurt and humiliated she couldn't think straight. She wanted him to feel the same storm that was raging inside her. And after all that, Paige wasn't even sure it worked. She wasn't sure her opinion of him meant much anymore.
She wanted it to. She wanted Walter to be the one, to be the person she could finally trust, build some kind of life with. She wanted Ralph to have a father and a family and a safe place. She wanted this not to be happening.
Paige picked up her phone, smoothing her thumb over the glossy black screen. Considering it, just for a second.
She tossed it aside and climbed out of bed.