I've been thinking lately about how different Scorpion might have been if everyone involved knew there would only be four seasons. Would we have waited three frustrating years for Waige to get together? Or would they be married by now? Would Happy and Toby have a kid? Where would Sylvester and Cabe be? I guess that's the weird/terrible thing about most TV shows. How can you plan out a satisfying story when you don't know where it ends?
Yeah, you can tell I'm not over this cancellation. I'm still heartbroken when I think about it so I try not to think about it. But what I CAN do is write fics, so here you go. I think this will end up being a two-shot.
It was rare that Walter didn't trust his ability to drive.
He'd driven away from bullets and directly underneath airplanes. Nothing should have fazed him anymore. But as his hands shook on the steering wheel and he nearly missed his turn because focusing was borderline impossible, he almost wished he had called a cab.
The genius had barely put the car in park before he was yanking out the keys and running toward the building he despised. Nothing good in his life had ever happened in a hospital. The lobby was just as cold and sterile as he remembered, and before he could physically hang up the phone that the receptionist was holding to ask where Ralph was, Toby emerged from the stairwell.
"Walter," the shrink said, reaching him in a few strides and grabbing his shoulder firmly. "Take a breath. He's in surgery. There nothing we can do right now."
There's nothing we can do. Even though Toby hadn't meant it the same way, those words brought back too many memories of Megan's doctors and their sympathetic looks. He hadn't been willing to believe them then. But ultimately, they were right.
Walter shirked away from his touch, but nodded and followed him to the elevator. "How bad is it? Tell me the truth, Toby."
"I don't know," he said quietly, pressing the button for the third floor. This method of transportation was far more inefficient than taking the stairs, but rushing upstairs just to face an agonizing wait didn't make much sense either. "He was unconscious when they brought him in. A lot of internal injuries. But we won't know the extent of it until he gets out of surgery. I'm sorry. I wish I had more to tell you."
"No. I…" Walter swallowed, staring ahead at the door as his eyes started to sting. "T-Thank you for calling me."
The client would forgive him for rushing out in the middle of the job. He would find time to contact them and explain that his son was in the hospital. Any sane person would understand that.
His son. Even if the odds of that becoming true—legally, at least—were exceedingly slim now, there was nothing to stop Walter from thinking it.
"Paige asked me to," Toby admitted, quickly registering the surprise on Walter's face and adding, "I probably wasn't supposed to tell you that. But just so you know…she thought you should be here."
He wasn't sure what to do with that information. She hadn't completely denied him a relationship with Ralph—he was still a part of the young genius's life—but that didn't mean he would automatically be notified of important events like he would have a few months earlier. "H-How is she?"
"You know her," Toby said with a humorless smile. "She's falling apart. But she won't let anyone see it. Don't take it personally if she doesn't act thrilled to see you."
"I don't expect her to." The elevator dinged and Walter took a deep breath before stepping out, only for it to catch in his throat when he saw her.
Paige was sitting in a cheap grey chair, gazing blankly at the wall. If things were normal, he wouldn't hesitate to pull her into his arms, assure her over and over that everything would be okay as she cried into his shoulder. But they weren't. So he just nodded vacantly as Toby said something about meeting the rest of the team in the cafeteria and approached her cautiously, taking a tentative seat next to her.
She didn't turn or acknowledge his presence, and Walter was almost startled when she finally did speak. "They said it might be hours before we hear anything," Paige explained, clearing her throat to steady her shaking voice. "They said if he'd been any closer, not even surgery would have helped."
He hadn't been paying full attention when Toby told him about the accident, but the facts were still stored away. Ralph had been walking home from a friend's house. The couple he saved from the wreck were okay, suffering only minor injuries, but the resulting explosion threw him several feet onto the pavement.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. It was his fault for getting Ralph involved in cases. Making the young genius think he could run headfirst into danger and save the day.
Paige had said once that she didn't want Ralph to turn into him. At that moment, Walter wished for the same thing.
She shrugged weakly. "I'm gonna spend my whole life being terrified for him, aren't I?"
If he makes it through this. But that thought made him as sick as it would surely make Paige. Ralph was young and strong and incredibly stubborn. He had to be okay.
Walter wasn't sure which of those sentiments would be welcome, if any of them. So he settled for resting his hand next to hers, a familiar sense of comfort flowing through him when she grasped his fingers and squeezed them.