So, 1) WALTER WHY. I knew it was coming, but that was crushing, you guys. The saddest part is that Paige was about a second away from saying yes. But PROPS to Happy for being the voice of reason, she was fantastic. 2) I sort of just realized that FFN has forums but not one for Scorpion? Someone start some posts on there and let me know, or I'll do it and let you guys know. 3) Just wanted to say a heartfelt thank you to all the regular reviewers on here. I'll let you in on a secret: us writers can be a pretty insecure bunch (about our writing, anyway). There's no objective way to tell if our work is doing its job, so even if we're proud of it, we really rely on feedback to know if what we write is entertaining readers. You have a lot of power to encourage writers, so thank you to everyone who lets us know what's up! 4) Now that I've planned it out, I can say this story will be about five chapters. Without further ado…
Toby woke up, like he did most mornings, with his arm wrapped around Happy and her hair tickling his neck. He smiled sleepily and reached over to look at the time, but he wasn't in bed. His faculties returned to him in rapid succession as he realized that while his girlfriend was snuggled into him, they weren't alone.
Her figure was still limp against him, and he disentangled himself before taking hold of her shoulders and shaking her gently. The mechanic didn't respond immediately, and Toby felt a surge of panic until she blinked her eyes open and stared at him in annoyance. "You can get your own breakfast, numb nuts."
"Happy, wake up. It's important." Toby eased her into an upright position in her chair, and she rubbed her face to rid herself of the grogginess. She was a particularly heavy sleeper, and while the shrink normally found that endearing, they had more serious issues to address.
"Why are Sly and Cabe here?" she asked quizzically as she stretched out her back and shoulders. "Guys, wake the hell up."
The agent mumbled something that sounded like "put your hands in the air" before he slumped to the side, while Sylvester merely shifted positions as best he could with his face buried in the table. Happy, lifting her hand up to her mouth as she yawned, stood up and circled around, smacking the two men on the back of their heads. They woke up with a start.
"What are you doing in my apartment?" Cabe snapped, glaring at her in confusion.
Toby sighed and rose from his chair, glancing quickly around the garage and landing on the untouched chocolate cake in front of them. "Something happened last night. The O'Brien-Dineen clan isn't here. You think Walt and Paige snuck off to finally get busy?"
Happy leaned across the table and swung at his arm, the only part of him she could reach. "The better question is, where is Ralph?"
"Um, guys?" Sylvester's voice was several octaves too high, setting the rest of the team on edge. They approached him with caution and sobered as they nearly stepped into a large pool of blood, dried and crusting on the concrete floor. Happy jumped back and clutched Toby's shirt in her fist.
"Search the garage, now," Cabe ordered, gesturing for the three geniuses to head in separate directions. Happy felt a sinking sensation as she climbed the stairs to the loft, Toby behind her—he certainly wasn't leaving her alone, in case there was still an imminent threat—and twisted open the doorknob with shaking hands.
"Walt? Paige?" The room was silent except for the echo of her words on the rows of shelves in Walter's lab. Her gaze landed on the bed and she dropped her shoulders. "Oh thank God," she breathed, running over to Ralph's sleeping form, the rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was alive and breathing. "Buddy?"
Toby was at the boy's side in an instant, propping Ralph up against his own body and brushing a hand through his hair. "Ralph, kid, you've got to let us know that you're alright."
"Mom?" the young genius murmured, reaching out slowly but surely for consciousness. Toby couldn't resist embracing him tighter and planting a quick kiss on the side of his head. "Where's my mom?"
"Just relax, Ralph. I think we may have been sedated. The effects will be harder on you because you're the smallest."
The boy made a noise of agreement and settled back into Toby, who shared a concerned glance with Happy before she disappeared from the loft to check in with the others.
"I'm sure your mom is fine," he muttered when it was quiet, rocking slightly with the child in his arms. "We'll find her soon. I promise."
"I want that done in the shortest amount you can comprehend, got it?" Cabe demanded as a crime scene technician scooped the blood from the floor into a vial for testing. The garage was swarming with them, and Happy couldn't tell if it was calming the team or increasing their anxiety. They had a tenuous relationship with law enforcement, even after their extensive work with Homeland and its network of government agencies…many of whose corruption and inefficiency was nothing short of remarkable.
"Cabe, I found something," she whispered, angling herself toward him to hide their conversation from onlookers. The mechanic twisted open a piece of paper and showed its contents to him. "I pulled it out of my toolbox a few minutes ago."
You should have been the one to see me coming.
The agent snapped his eyes to hers. "Who is this from?"
"I have a pretty good idea," she said in a low voice, returning the scrap to her pocket. "There's a good chance we'll find more notes. Look in the stuff you use the most. Things you always keep in the garage."
"Copy." They broke apart and Cabe pulled Sylvester into a corner, relaying the message. Happy told Toby of her suspicions and they dispersed, unnoticed by the agents inspecting their food and drinks from the previous night.
Sylvester's note was, as he'd anticipated, in a box of Band-Aids he kept on his desk. Megan would be so disappointed that you couldn't protect Walter. There weren't many people that knew about the meaning behind the bandages, but he could think of one person that might be crazy enough to find out.
Toby shook his out of a textbook on aggressive behavior. He'd often read a page out loud and then look at Collins pointedly in front of the team, so it was the logical choice. Well, whatever Mark's version of logical was. Feel free to take the day off. You won't be of much help anyway.
Cabe ultimately found his in a pocket of his briefcase, and his breath caught as he read it. Too late. You may be able to find their bodies, though.
"Collins is a pathological liar," Happy argued when they regrouped. "He lives for the game. There's no way he'd kill them like this."
"Are we sure it's him?" Cabe asked.
"This is classic Collins. He'll play mind games with us until he gets what he wants." Toby stepped closer and linked his fingers with Happy's, a move she didn't protest because she knew they both needed the comfort. "I hate that guy."
"If it's the game he wants, then he'll keep them alive until we can find them. And we have to assume that he's watching us, so what we learn doesn't leave this team, alright?"
They nodded their heads in agreement with the agent, but behind the hope and determination was the awful, nagging doubt that they maybe they had already lost. Collins would have kept Walter alive—probably—but the liaison was exponentially more vulnerable. Nobody could stand to think about what Mark had planned for them.
"Walter, you're bleeding," Paige gasped, causing the genius to glance over at his arm, where a stream of dark red liquid was trickling from his wrist to his elbow. He shrugged.
"It's a surface wound. No major artery damage. This isn't the ideal angle for effective clotting, but it shouldn't be a problem for a while."
She scoffed. "A while?"
"I don't know how clean these cuffs are, so I could potentially contract an infection. The jagged edge that injured me is still digging into the skin a little. But I'm fine," Walter answered noncommittally, but it was clear from Paige's nonverbal cues that she wasn't reassured. Her breaths were too fast and shallow, and her tensed muscles signaled extreme stress. "Paige, focus on me," Walter said evenly, holding her gaze. "I know you're scared, but we'll find a way out of our confinement. We're a good team. We'll get out and get to Ralph."
The glazing in her eyes started to recede, and her breaths fell back in line with his. The mention of her son's name appeared to center her. Walter noted that and filed it away for future use.
"Did Collins tell you what he wants?" Paige questioned, her voice taking on a new resolve. Walter pressed his lips into a thin line and stayed silent. "Knowing what he wants gives us the best chance of figuring out how and when to escape. Are you seriously not going to tell me?"
"Mark is a master of mental manipulation," the genius rebutted, his face suddenly devoid of expression. "He's going to use doubt to turn us against each other. He wants me to tell you what he said, so it's best if I don't."
"Or maybe he knew you would keep it from me so that I would think you were hiding something, Walter," she said, placing biting emphasis on his name. "You said it yourself. We're a team. I should know what you know."
Walter sighed and sorted through his options before settling on what he considered an acceptable compromise. "Fine. I will tell you if and when it becomes relevant to our escape."
Paige continued to glare at him, her jaw slightly hinged as if she couldn't believe the ludicrousness of their situation. "That's not what I—."
"I'm sorry, Paige." There was a flash of guilt in his eyes, and her mouth snapped shut. While she was prepared to argue the point with him, she sensed that he was talking about more than the content of his conversation with Collins. "I thought I could move on from the past and…forget that any of this happened. Mark was my responsibility. I should have ensured that he couldn't hurt anyone else, but he slipped through my fingers and now you're reaping the consequences."
Perhaps a reasonable person, in this predicament, would blame him. Would feel anger welling in their chest, direct it at the first person they could see, regret the decisions they made to reach that point. But because she'd been with Scorpion through decidedly unreasonable situations—or maybe because she was unreasonably in love with Walter—she felt no anger, no spite, only the need to comfort him.
"I'm part of the team, Walter. For better or worse." He dropped his head and nodded weakly. "This is not your fault. You've always protected me, no matter how much danger I was in. There's no doubt in my mind that you'll protect me now."
As if Collins heard those words—it was possible that he had—and decided to turn them into cruel irony, the door to their cell swung open and two men, tall and imposing and armed to the teeth, descended on Paige. She barely had time to struggle before one of them pushed a syringe into her neck and her body fell slack. The other unhooked her cuffs from the chains and hoisted her over his shoulder with no effort.
Walter could hear himself uttering, maybe screaming, something that sounded like a string of her name and don't touch her and take me, leave her alone, but the guards paid him no attention as they carried her out of the room, and his shouts simply bounced off the empty walls back to him.