Annnnd we're back. Sorry about the weird spacing of these updates; for obvious reasons, I was distracted by finale fever. Thank you, sincerely, for the reviews on this story—they're some of the nicest I've ever gotten, and I appreciate each one so much.

"Damnit, Collins," Happy muttered as she slammed the phone back into its cradle, pausing before she knocked a stack of papers off the desk for good measure. "Some idiot at the LAPD downloaded a virus from a porn site and their entire computer system is jacked. They're out of commission until it's fixed. No help there."

"Collins was our best hacker aside from Walter," Sylvester chimed in, letting out a frustrated noise. "He's left a million digital breadcrumbs, but they're all dead ends. He's just wasting our time."

Toby balled up the map in front of him, tossing it lazily into the trash can. "I've got—."

"Nothing," Cabe concluded, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. "I gathered. Look, team, we've been working nonstop on this one. Take five minutes to regroup."

The geniuses obeyed, scattering across the garage. Toby slumped onto the couch like a ragdoll, tipping down his fedora to block his eyes from the light as his head rolled back. Moments later, he felt a dip in pressure next to him and glanced over to see the mechanic watching him with a tired expression.

"Eat," Happy commanded, handing him a glass of water and a wrapped piece of beef jerky—probably the only thing they had left in the garage, as today was usually Paige's designated time to go grocery shopping. He wasn't really hungry, but if the liaison was here she'd remind him that he could think better when his strength was up, so he decided to honor her wishes.

"Thanks," Toby mumbled, flashing his girlfriend an appreciative smile. Her lips were trapped in the same thin, tense line, but he sensed the mutual understanding between them. He chugged the water before his fingers went to work on peeling apart the stubborn plastic wrapper, stopping abruptly just as he'd freed the questionable food inside. "Hap?"

The mechanic furrowed her brows, noting his look of intense concentration. "What?"

Toby waved his hand, indicating for her to follow him as he bolted up from the couch and rushed to the computer on his desk, bringing the screen up on one of their mounted televisions. Cabe and Sylvester, noticing the sudden movement, were by his side instantly.

"It's not Walter's blood," the psychologist said breathlessly as he opened his e-mail and scrolled through the extensive analysis of the liquid they'd found on the garage floor that morning, cursing himself for being too exhausted to put the pieces together sooner.

"The lab tested it," Cabe rebutted. He had cashed in all his favors and indebted himself to a few more to move that sample up the list, and he was going to be livid if they'd made a mistake. "It's definitely Walter's."

"No, I mean, it is…it's just not his blood now," Toby explained without looking up.

"Huh?"

"Anemia." Toby glanced quickly at Happy, whose face lit up in recognition. She joined him by the computer and squeezed his shoulder before they turned their attention to Cabe and Sylvester. "Five years ago, Walter had anemia. Iron deficiency. Because of his work with Mark, he wasn't eating or sleeping much, and that took a toll on his body. He had to down some heavy-duty supplements to recover."

"So?" the mathematician said anxiously.

"So Walter cured his anemia," Happy continued. "But these blood samples all show signs of severe iron deficiency. It is Walter's blood, but it's from five years ago."

Toby grinned at her proudly, the excitement making his pitch rise. "The blood we found isn't fresh. It's been dehydrated and stored like that beef jerky. My guess is that Collins, being a paranoid basket case, believed Walter would someday betray him and collected his blood in case he ever needed to implicate him in some way. Walter was so out of it half the time I doubt he would have even noticed."

Cabe exhaled in relief. "So he's not as injured as we thought?"

"Not just that," Toby shook his finger, "but Mark would need specialized equipment and facilities to handle all of that. Some of it he might have been able to make himself, but some things we should be able to track back to him."

"You think he just walked into a medical supply store and used his credit card?" the agent quipped.

"Nope. More than likely he bought them illegally," Toby smirked. "But I happen to have some very unsavory friends in the black market that owe me big."

Walter was such a fool. There had to have been more he could do to protect Paige than flailing helplessly while she was taken away from him. He should have anticipated that possibility, listened to her, revealed what Collins told him. Now Mark was no doubt sinking his claws into her mind—he desperately hoped that was all the sociopath was messing with, but he could attest that the psychological torture was painful enough—and Walter had no one but himself to blame for it.

But somehow, even greater than his guilt over letting Collins invade their lives was the realization that she would never know the truth. How unbelievably selfish was he to worry about something like that right now? Paige, his Paige, was suffering and all he could focus on was how he'd never get another chance to touch her, tell her that he needed her, make her feel loved and important and as truly extraordinary as she was.

Walter felt the strength drain out of him, and he sank against his restraints, ignoring the persistent stinging and soreness. He betrayed Collins. It should have been him in her place, owning up to the consequences of his actions while Paige was safely at home with Ralph. If he'd never met her, never hired her, never…

There was no point in that now. What was done was done, and Walter needed to get her out of this nightmare at any cost.

The genius tensed again as the door creaked open, revealing a single guard who kicked it shut behind him and advanced toward Walter with a bottle of pills and some sort of green shake in a paper cup. "Medication for the pain," the man explained, shaking a couple of the round, white pills into his palm. "Open your mouth."

"Where is Paige?" Walter snapped, rattling his chains to underscore the anger in his voice, but the guard simply shrugged and crushed the pills in his palm, dropping the powder into his drink. The genius's strength was failing, and he felt his stomach rumbling in hunger, but he'd be damned if he was going to accept anything from Collins. "Let me see her."

"No," the man said, his eyes mocking and challenging as he lifted them to meet Walter's. That was enough to push him over the edge, and he used the last remaining bit of power in his muscles to drive his foot into the guard's shin, sending the man buckling toward the floor and the liquid spilling out onto the concrete. Sensing a narrow window of opportunity, Walter's legs wrapped around the mercenary's neck and tightened, trapping his body in place until he slumped forward more quickly than expected, likely due to the poor air quality in the cell.

After a few unsuccessful tries, Walter looped the toe of his shoe through a keyring on the guard's belt and yanked it up. He should have been far too weak to balance and pull and twist in the ways required to get the keys up to his hand, but the thought of getting to Paige, of ensuring her safety and returning her to her son, spurred him forward. He laughed stupidly to himself as he finally slipped out of his cuffs and made shaky contact with the floor.

Walter pulled the guard's gun out of his holster, moving slowly so as not to wake him, and frowned when he found the chamber empty. It was too risky to search his body for other weapons, so Walter flicked the safety on and tucked the gun into the waistband of his pants, figuring he could bluff his way out of a confrontation if necessary.

He cracked the cell door open and slipped through, careful not to cause undue noise or distraction. The hallway was even dimmer than his room, and stars clouded his vision as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Eventually, Walter felt secure enough to explore further and grazed his hand along the wall for guidance while he walked, stumbling every so often on the uneven ground beneath him. He'd estimated about two minutes before he rounded a corner and a light flashed in his periphery.

One room—the only room he'd seen so far with lights on. The door was closed, and they were spilling out through the narrow crack below. It was a gamble; Collins and his army could be playing poker in there, for all he knew, ready to shoot him on sight.

Or he could find Paige.

The odds were…he shook his head. Inconsequential. If he had even the slightest chance of helping her, of protecting her, it would have to be enough.

Walter suppressed his breathing as he listened in to the room, but he heard nothing. Taking that as a good sign, he fumbled with the guard's keys until he found one that slipped into the lock effortlessly and turned it.

"Paige," the genius murmured, his heart skipping a beat when he saw her hunched over, her face obscured by her hair. He raced to her side, brushing the strands away and tilting her chin up. Paige's eyes blinked open slowly and widened as his presence sunk in. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No," she whispered, offering him a reassuring smile. "Just really tired."

Walter chuckled as he attacked her restraints, trying not to aggravate the chaffing and bruising on her wrists. He freed her arms and then moved on to her ankles, allowing his hand to linger momentarily on her leg as he drank in the relief of being close to her again. "Did Collins…?" he asked in a small voice, afraid to say the words and of how she would respond.

She reached out to touch his shoulder, wincing slightly at the movement. "I'm fine, Walter," Paige insisted, drawing his attention back up to her. "Collins is a bastard, but you and I both know he doesn't like to get his hands dirty."

He nodded and finished with her zip ties, wrapping an arm around her waist to help her stand. The liaison buckled as blood rushed suddenly back through her body, but she recovered and latched onto him, causing him to hide a small grin.

There was a swift click on the other side of the door, and Walter frantically reached out, tugging at the handle. "It's locked. It only locks from the outside," he explained with a hint of panic, shuddering as reality descended on him swiftly and mercilessly. He'd been so stupid. The guard, the keys, the lights…it was easy, far too easy, and had Walter not been so desperate he would have seen right through it.

"What?" the woman questioned, cupping his chin and forcing him to face her. "What's going on, Walter?"

"I'm sorry, Paige," was all he had a chance to say before the door swung open and Collins appeared, fingers curled around a gun that was pointed directly at them.

The mad genius smirked and gestured to Walter with the weapon. "You don't look surprised. I suppose you've figured it out?"

Walter took a step back with Paige and tightened his grip on her waist, breathing shallowly as she reciprocated. "Another mind game," he muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "You let me escape and I played right into it."

"For a genius, you're not terribly inventive," Mark shrugged. "I know you better than anyone, Walter. Never forget that."

Collins knew who he was, years ago. Walter tried hard not to be that person anymore, but his former partner was clearly trying to draw him back into the darkest years of his life. "Enough with the games," he snapped. "Let Paige walk out of here and you and I can settle this permanently."

Mark took a step forward, his eyes narrowing behind his glasses. "See, that doesn't work for me. Paige happens to be an integral part of this negotiation. Why don't you tell him about my offer?"

"Not a chance," she hissed, fists clenching as she held back from lunging at him. Walter had never seen her quite so furious before, but her ire faded slightly as Collins turned the gun on her, leveling it with her chest.

"That was not a request," Mark said through gritted teeth, pausing after each word. "Inform him about our agreement, Miss Dineen."

The genius angled his body slightly between her and Collins, moving slowly so as not to startle their captor. "It's okay," he said quietly, hoping his eyes conveyed the same message.

Paige's shoulders relaxed and she took a deep breath, glancing at Mark for a brief second before focusing exclusively on Walter. "You stay here and work with Collins again. The team goes unharmed, and Ralph and I…" she choked on the words.

"What, Paige? You and Ralph do what?"

"We disappear," she finally managed, clutching his arm as if to stabilize herself. "We'd never see you or the team again, never even know what happened to you. But I said no, Walter. I'm not leaving here without you."

Walter was quiet as he absorbed the information, but Collins became impatient and cocked the gun, pressing it painfully against her collarbone. The genius wanted to demolish him, but even if he could overtake Mark, there was no way to get past the armed guards undoubtedly waiting in the hallway. He forced himself not to react, and even as fear flickered through Paige's eyes, she continued to stand her ground.

"I told her why that was a naïve decision, but she doesn't seem to want to listen to me. Perhaps she'll listen to you." Collins nudged her with the barrel. "Tell him why, Paige. Tell Walter what I told you…as much as you can remember with that unremarkable little brain of yours."

Paige's fierceness faltered a bit, and Walter was sure that despite her bravado, Mark had somehow wormed his way into her head. "He told me to take the deal because…" Her eyes fluttered shut, and all the genius wanted to do in that moment was kiss her, hold her, protect her from the pain. But he couldn't. "I needed to start over. Because I…I'm in love with you, Walter, and you don't…you can't…ever love me that way."

Every neuron in his body felt like it was firing wildly. She loved him. And now the only way to save her would be to betray that.

The genius allowed his expression to harden, dropping his hands abruptly from her sides and taking a wide step backward. He'd spent most of his life hiding too-deep emotions behind a mask of indifference, so it sounded dangerously genuine when he eventually spoke. "He's right. I'm not capable of that kind of love, and especially not…not with a normal," Walter said firmly, hoping that he might be able to forget the pain in her eyes one day but sure that he never would. "It's time to take the deal and leave."