what if paige find walter with tears in his eyes taking to a picture of his sister saying he lost her and she comes to him saying no you have not , i like tim but i love you walter

I tweaked this just a bit, but stuck to the idea of Paige eventually choosing Walter over Tim. Hope you like it!

/

"That was…interesting."

Paige laughs. "You don't have to pretend you enjoyed it. Jazz isn't really my thing either."

"Well, it seemed the polite thing to do," Tim shrugs, but chuckles with her. "You want some ice cream?"

"Sure," she says happily. She takes his offered arm, and lets herself enjoy the simple pleasure of a balmy evening spent with a sweet, attractive man.

They chat about various things over their sundaes, and on the walk back to Tim's car. She's surprised at how easy it is to talk about Ralph with him; normal people usually require some kind of explanation as to why a ten year old acts the way he does, but Tim…he tries to appreciate her son's differences, not think them strange. Ralph is special, and Tim seems to admire that.

They're almost to her apartment, and Paige is in the middle of telling Tim about the time they had to stop a third world war by injecting a ferret with snake venom, when he suddenly reaches over and puts one of his hands on hers.

She's surprised. Tim is very sweet, very respectful, and other than offering his arm or putting one hand on the small of her back occasionally, he hasn't expressed his interest through touch. Still, his hand is warm and gentle, but she is caught completely off guard by his question.

"Why did you ask me to go with you, if you didn't like jazz?"

Her head shoots up, staring at him. His eyes are focused on the road, but she can see the tense line of his jaw in the light from the dash.

Paige, the one who smooths out awkward situations for a living, feels herself floundering for an answer. "Oh. Um, well…I-I didn't know you don't like jazz."

Tim shakes his head. "No, that's not what I meant. Normally you'd ask. 'Hey, Tim, do you like jazz?', and I'd say no, and you would say 'that's okay, we'll find something else to do'. But you didn't."

She's not sure what to say.

"Don't get me wrong, it's not my favorite but I still had fun. I like spending time with you, no matter what we're doing. And I'm not trying to over-analyze your thought process, it just…it seemed a little…unlike you, I guess."

Paige swallows. "Tim, I – "

"Was it the case? Did you just need some down time?"

"No, Tim…" she sighs. They're outside her apartment building, but neither of them makes any move to leave the car. "I'm sorry I didn't ask you first."

"Paige," Tim huffs in frustration. "That's not what I'm…it's fine. Really. I was just wondering why you bought those tickets if you don't like jazz to begin with."

"I didn't buy them," she responds without thinking. Her eyes widen.

Tim looks confused. "You didn't? So, you won them in a contest or something?"

"Or something." She hopes he'll leave it at that, but when his forehead crinkles even more she knows he deserves the truth. She takes a deep breath. "Walter gave them to me."

Tim's face goes from confusion to shock instantly. "Oh."

"Yeah." She runs one hand over her face. "He…he said he was going to take Linda, but they broke up so he didn't want them to go to waste."

They sit in silence for several long, awkward moments. Paige just about decides to give up and go inside when his quiet voice makes her freeze.

"Did he ask you to go with him?"

Paige looks him in the eye. "No."

"Would you have said yes?"

She wishes she could lie. But she can't. Not about this. "I…I don't know."

Tim nods, his face pensive, and she feels like the worst person on earth.

"Tim, I'm sorry. I just…I'm so sorry. Walter and I….i-it…me and Walter, we just – "

"Paige," he cuts her off gently, "I'm not mad."

"I'm not worried about you being mad," she blinks back the tears she can feel burning her throat. "I never meant – "

"I'm not heartbroken either," he grins ruefully. "True, I'm more than a little disappointed. But it wouldn't be fair to either of us if we let it go further than tonight."

She sniffs. "I know."

"Look, I'm not saying this can't ever happen. But if it does….then you shouldn't have any doubt in your mind about Walter. And right now, I think you have more doubts about him, than you have feelings about me."

Miserably, Paige nods. Here she is, on a nice date with a nice guy, and all that's running through her head are a bunch of what ifs.

"I'm really sorry, Tim."

He smiles, and squeezes her hand. "Don't be. Just be sure, okay? Think about it. And if you decide this is our last date, that's fine. If not…well, that's definitely fine." He gives her a cheesy grin, and she chuckles a little in response.

"See you tomorrow?" The look he gives her erases almost all of her guilt, and she smiles before leaning over and kissing his cheek.

"Yeah. Thank you."

/

Twelve hours later, Tim is continually fighting the urge to bang his head against the wall.

He'd come in that morning, only to find Walter up to his eyeballs in codes or algorithms or something on his desktop, and Paige studiously filling out paperwork, all while pretending her boss wasn't sitting across from her.

Clearly, whatever conversation they'd had – if it had happened at all, and he won't be surprised if it hadn't – did not go well, because here it is lunchtime, and the tension is still so thick it feels like they're choking on all the things they want to say.

Toby commandeered Walter's car again, so he and Happy could go somewhere for lunch alone. It's been a slow day, so Walter had let him, then Sylvester and Cabe had left to get lunch for the rest of them.

Which leaves Tim, Mr. Denial, and Ms. Conflicted.

He sits at the communal table for about fifteen minutes when Paige gets a phone call from Drew. She takes it up to the roof, and Tim wastes absolutely no time in stomping over to Walter's desk.

Honestly, he's surprised the rest of the team hasn't lost their minds by now. This is infuriating.

"What is wrong with you?" he snaps.

Walter looks up, wide-eyed. Tim realizes that may not have been the most logical approach to this…but nothing about this situation is logical. Screw logical.

"I'm not sure what you're referring to – " Walter begins, but Tim takes the ticket stubs from last night and throws them on the desk. It's not the dramatic effect he was hoping for, since the small pieces of paper don't really fall, they just sort of flutter downwards, but Walter stiffens and recoils just the same.

"How about now?" Tim gripes. "O'Brien, you're not an idiot but right now you're really acting like one."

Walter frowns, and stands up. "Paige's personal life – "

"Shut up," he snaps. Walter does, looking surprised. "Look, I like Paige. A lot. Okay? She's kind, she's pretty, she's smart – she's what normal guys call the total package."

"I don't see the point – " Walter tries again.

"The point is, I can get over it." Tim takes a deep breath, and tries to remember how Paige usually approaches emotional topics with Walter. "I like her. But that's all. You, though…you feel something infinitely more for her."

Walter inhales sharply, and begins to shake his head. "No, I – "

"Look me in the eye and tell me you don't love her."

The genius' mouth opens and closes a few times, before he sighs in defeat, and sits back down.

"It doesn't matter."

The words are said so quietly that Tim feels a little sorry for him.

"It matters to Paige." Tim eyes him. "You know your feelings will always matter to her."

"Yes, because handling my emotions is part of her job. How I feel about her is – " Walter waves a hand pointlessly, "Illogical."

"I hate to break this to you, boss, but," Tim smiles. "Love is always illogical. Even for normals."

Walter stares at his desk. "There's a great deal of…risk. Emotional risk."

"That's normal, too," Tim says cheerfully. He hadn't really expected it to be this easy. He sighs, though, when Walter still looks indecisive. "All right. Look, my parents have been married for forty-six years."

Walter displays a puzzled expression. "That's…uh, an impressive amount of time."

"When I was twelve, my mom wanted to remodel the kitchen. New cabinets, new appliances – the works. We're on the home stretch, and our new refrigerator comes in, only it's the wrong one. It was the next size up from what my mom ordered. Now, all it would have taken to make the bigger one fit, was to remove one measly little cabinet in the corner. So the logical solution would be…"

"Remove the cabinet and take the bigger refrigerator, providing your budget allowed it." Walter supplied.

"Right. And we could have afforded it, but it wasn't the one my mom wanted. So my dad, he calls the store, has the delivery guys come back, delays the renovation an entire week since the right fridge wasn't in stock, all so my mother could have the exact refrigerator she wanted."

Walter is staring at him, completely lost.

"My dad did something illogical, not to mention inefficient, just to make my mom happy. That's what love is, Walter. Love is you decoupling the train so Paige and Ralph could be safe, even though Sly gave you a one hundred percent chance of dying. Love is you running into a radiation-soaked building because she was in there."

There's a long pause, then Walter, drumming his fingers on the table, abruptly says, "I, uh…I'm s-sorry if I caused any, um. Confusion. Or hurt feelings…."

Tim shrugs. "To be honest, the only one you really hurt is Paige. But, uh, something tells me you'll know how to fix it."

They hear car doors being shut outside, and he points at the stairs. "Get up there, before Sylvester and Cabe give you an excuse not to."

Walter grins briefly, before taking the stairs on a run. Tim watches him go, feeling an odd mixture of bittersweet pride and satisfaction.

Cabe and Sylvester come inside a moment later. "Where's Walter?" the latter asks.

Tim smiles, and accepts his burger-and-fries combo. "He's busy."

/

Walter stares at the door leading to the roof, unsure of why he's stopped now. Paige doesn't know he's here. He could just walk back downstairs, enjoy his lunch, and pretend this never happened.

Your feelings will always matter to her.

He takes a deep breath, and pushes the door open.

Paige is sitting on one of the lounge chairs that are scattered all over the roof. She's no longer on the phone, but is just staring at her shoes. She doesn't seem to have heard him, because she suddenly looks up and is startled to see him.

"Walter."

He's always found it illogical, how much he likes the way she says his name. But that doesn't bother him anymore; he lets himself really enjoy how the syllables roll off her tongue, the same way he enjoys the way her red skirt drapes over her thighs. All of those tiny, tiny details that he's never believed he had any right to appreciate – now he can, so he's making up for lost time.

It doesn't occur to him though, that his blatant staring might give Paige the wrong impression, and she frowns a little.

"Walter…?"

He jolts back to reality. "Uh. S-sorry. I, um…I just w-wanted to – "

The vulnerable look on Paige's face distracts him. Somehow, it never occurred to him that Paige is just as scared of love as he is.

That knowledge, of how they're both nervous, how she's not really waiting for him to catch up so much as wondering if he ever will…it gives him a dose of sudden courage.

He finds himself walking forward purposefully, weaving amongst the array of patio furniture, and as he gets closer Paige looks more and more confused. Just as he reaches her, her frown turns almost frustrated.

"Walter, I – "

The rest of her sentence is cut off in a gasp, when he grabs her arm and gently but quickly pulls her to her feet, flush against him. His hands close around her waist, her hands on his shoulders for balance, and her eyes are so big and beautiful, and he can see all the questions in their depths.

He hopes he has the answers she's looking for.

He moves slowly, giving her time to pull away if this isn't what she wants, but she doesn't, she stays exactly where she is, and slowly, carefully, he moves one of his hands up to cradle her jaw. He gently thumbs her lower lip. It trembles in response, just in time for him to capture it between his own.

Paige's fingers curl a little into his shirt, and for a moment the contact between them is soft, cautious. Then she comes alive in his arms, and one of her hands is in his hair, tugging him closer, and he moves both arms around her middle, marveling in the fact that she fits against him like a puzzle piece, perfect in every way.

He kisses her until they're both breathless; he finally pulls away, flushed and panting, but he couldn't stop the huge smile on his face even if he wanted to.

She returns it, full force, and this time she's the one who leans in, wrapping her arms around him in a way that tells him all is forgiven.