WAIGING WAR CHAPTER 7
AN: Only one or two more chapters to go on this story. Then I've got a couple of plot bunnies I've been wrestling with I'll try to tackle. Hopefully they will be more in line with canon. Thanks to everyone going on this journey with me.
I shamelessly borrowed *ahem* ripped off *ahem* some lines from True Colors 1X06 in this chapter. If you love and have rewatched that episode as many times as I have, you'll recognize them.
It was a completely normal biological reaction for any typical, healthy male. The problem was, he'd never been what one might call typical.
Still, it was absurd to feel embarrassed or ashamed. Or like every detail of the erotic dream was outwardly visible blazing across his flushed face. It was true he had control over the direction of his dreams, but this one took an unexpected turn and he flat-out chose not to correct the course. And he'd reversed and re-watched. Several times.
They'd been spending lots of time together. The conversation they had last night after everyone else left was on a more intimate level than was usual for him. He'd opened up a little too much. That was all.
He'd long ago conceded Paige was attractive. Very much so. Beautiful even. Obviously a bit more sexually charismatic than any other woman he'd been around, so it was understandable his subconscious would pick up on all those… details.
Walter esteemed her for many reasons. Her looks didn't make up one iota of the reasons he held her in such high regard.
He knew all of those facts logically, but when he woke up from the dream painfully aroused and aching with desire, it was difficult to recall anything else except how much he wanted her. He'd never felt anything even close to this in his life. It was… disturbing. And frighteningly compelling.
Since he was earmarked for a 'special assignment' Walter wasn't required to get out of bed at the same time as his infantile bunkmates, so the genius lay on his cot taking deep breaths trying to quell his all-too-apparent enthusiasm for the dream until everyone else had left the barracks. The immature idiots surrounding him were always trying to get him to comment or react to the pictures of pin up girls they kept hanging on the walls around the room or the lewd magazines they pored over while making suggestive innuendos and disgusting gestures. If they found out the genius damn near had a wet dream, he'd never hear the end of it.
When the coast was finally clear, he hobbled straight for the showers.
Ignoring the hot water faucet entirely, gasping, he stepped directly into the cold spray in an attempt to cool his over heated thoughts as well as calm his raging…
He badly needed to focus on something else. Anything else.
Cabe sent Happy to pick him up mid-morning. Walter still harbored resentment toward Sergeant Gallo, but he'd never been more thankful for the man's choice of driver. Happy didn't require him to make conversation. She was content to leave him alone with his thoughts.
The jeep rattled and bounced over the rutted dirt road into town while Walter's mind drifted back to the previous evening.
The whole group had finished dinner and made tentative plans to meet at the Dineen's house the next day to finalize their strategy for the pending case. Cabe agreed to bring the blueprints for the hotel and try to procure appropriate clothes for them to wear to the party. He left shortly after, needing to make the arrangements. All the others left at the same time so they could catch a ride back to the base with the sergeant.
Walter volunteered to stay behind and help clean up the kitchen. His real purpose was to find out directly from Paige if she was actually willing to join them on such a dangerous mission. He expressed concern because her son depended on her. He felt she shouldn't be putting herself in jeopardy.
She quickly assured him she was not only willing but eager to assist in whatever capacity she was able. She'd simply answered, "What my son needs is to see me help you."
Because of her selflessness, Walter's already fathomless respect for her grew even deeper. So in turn, he found himself opening up about the reasons for his animosity toward Cabe. He told her how the trajectory coordinates he'd calculated for a safe drop zone for medical supplies and aid packages had been used to drop a series of bombs on the isolated village instead, resulting in an unforgivable number of civilian casualties.
Clearly Cabe knew, but Walter had never told anyone else about the incident.
When she'd looked at him with compassion, telling him it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't blame himself, that he didn't know, it released a tremendous amount of pressure he didn't realize was sitting square on his chest. And he could breathe, take a truly deep breath, for the first time in months. Stupid, useless tears of relief stung the corners of his eyes until he looked down at his feet blinking rapidly.
Paige touched his cheek lightly with her fingertips for just a second. Then she did the perfect thing. She turned back to drying dishes and changed the subject, allowing him to collect himself.
Now he and Happy were heading over to her house and Walter wasn't sure how he could face her after their talk. Or after his dream.
It was probably best not to revisit that.
Walter was relieved to discover they were the last to arrive. The more people around, the less awkward it would be. However, he couldn't seem to make up his mind whether to be grateful or disappointed Paige's presence wasn't immediately evident.
Of course the psychiatrist picked up on Walter's unspoken signals. "If you're looking for the waitress, she'll be back shortly. She went to her room to try on her threads for tonight's fun and games."
Before Walter could comment, Cabe interjected, "Paige brought some things to my attention we need to consider. Her boss came by this morning and asked her to sing a few songs at the shindig tonight. That's her cover story right there. He brought by a dress to match the other performers' outfits. He also told her the hotel is hurting for wait staff for the party. He asked if any of her new friends would be interested in making a couple of extra bucks. Bam. That takes care of the rest of you. No need to get all dolled up going in as dating couples or worry about getting onto the guest list. Stu even agreed to supply the uniforms."
There was absolutely no reason for the crushing sensation of dismay. It was illogical. The date wouldn't have been real anyway even if he wanted it to be. Which he didn't. They'd just been provided with the ideal reasons for all of them to attend the party. Plus, waiters and waitresses would have unfettered access to places like the kitchen and storage areas while most party goers ignored them like they were nothing more than part of the fixtures. It was more efficient this way. Much better. It was.
Walter almost had himself convinced.
Until Paige emerged from the back of the house in a slinky, mouth-watering black dress. Its halter neck bared both her shoulders and back and the skirt was slit up to mid thigh on one side. That single creamy, flawless appendage teased Walter mercilessly when she walked past.
Paige wrinkled her nose and asked the group, "Do I look okay?"
"Yes!" Instantly burst from Walter's unguarded lips. He found himself completely unable to tear his eyes away from her.
"You silver-tongued devil, you," Toby muttered.
Fortunately, Ralph chose that minute to ricochet into the room skidding to a halt directly in front of Walter. "Look! See what Sylvester and I found?" The excited youngster provided a much needed diversion as he pointed out a pattern of repeated sets of numbers he and the mathematician found on the intercepted manifests.
It was decided Sylvester would stay back with Ralph and continue to review invoices for evidence. Cabe would be providing security outside on the grounds of the hotel making sure none of the suspects left before they'd been eliminated. Meanwhile, after the behaviorist identified the most likely culprits, Toby and Happy would search the building for any indication of the location of the weapons. When Paige finished her set, she would mingle with Walter on the main dance floor covertly listening to as many private chats as they could until the perpetrators were positively identified and their plans were revealed.
Garbed as a waiter in a white tail coat, black pants and black bow tie and overtly seething at having to leave Paige behind to ride with Stu, Walter squeezed into the back of the flatbed truck beside Happy, Toby and the other extra help heading to the hotel. "I don't understand why Paige couldn't come with us. I don't like the idea of her going anywhere with her crooked boss," he hissed toward his coconspirators.
As he was budging closer to Happy with the handy excuse of giving Walter more room, Toby chuckled and whispered back, "C'mon, 197. She's worked for the guy for years. It would have been suspicious if we insisted she ride with us. We have to be there early to help set up, remember? You just don't want other men ogling her like you've been doing all afternoon."
"That's ridiculous," Walter returned, his lips thinning slightly, "I wasn't ogling anyone. I promised nothing would happen to her. How can I guarantee her safety if I'm not with her?"
Happy looked at him with disbelief, but she made a half-hearted attempt at being consoling if only so he would calm down and not blow their cover, "Cabe's got it, Walt. He'll be following at a discreet distance." Then she delivered a glare and a sharp jab to Toby's ribs when he tried to rest his arm about her shoulders.
Walter fell silent, but he was still fuming while he disciplined his thoughts to go over and over the plans and possible outcomes in his head.
The first part of the operation was a resounding success. Toby was able to eliminate two people from Sly's findings, the files he reviewed earlier and by observing gestures, expressions and mannerisms. That left three suspects to track. One of them was Paige's employer. The other two were the hotel's owner, Jacques Le Beau and his wife Clara. They had yet to identify the inside man, but Walter was watching all three closely to see if they singled out anyone in uniform for anything resembling a hushed exchange or signal.
He did his best to shut out the beautiful woman singing on stage. Distractions were unwelcome if he wanted this operation to be executed in a timely manner…and if he wanted to get the same distraction home both quickly and safely to her son.
As a result, he didn't note when she was no longer on stage. Consequently, he nearly dropped the tray of champagne flutes he was pretending to distribute when she came up behind him and whispered in his ear, "Have you got anything yet?"
He pivoted around to face her, setting the tray of drinks carefully on a nearby table after steadying the teetering glassware. It was the surprise, not her proximity that was causing his pulse to jump erratically, he was sure. It definitely wasn't the heady scent of her perfume or the caress of her warm breath on his cheek when she'd asked her question.
He took one deep, shuddering breath of his own before he could reply. "Oh, uh… Yes. Well, Toby has narrowed the list of suspects to three. Stu is one of them. I've been able to follow him around pretty easily. So far, he hasn't done or said anything condemning or revealing. Unfortunately, I haven't been able to get close to the other two. It's the hotel owner and his wife. They've been dancing most of the time."
"That's easy. Let's dance next to them," Paige said with a shrug as if it was the simplest answer on Earth.
"Oh… I-I, um, I'm working. There must be a more efficient way." Walter's eyes widened as he fumbled over his justification.
Paige grinned. "You're entitled to a little break. Besides, what are they going to do? Fire you? And this is the most efficient way."
He grimaced. "I don't dance."
She'd stopped listening, however, and grabbed both of his hands walking backwards out onto the dance floor. "Ready?"
Walter emitted a little distressed whine and mumbled a short, "No."
They paused next to the Le Beaus and she leaned toward him and asked softly, "Do you know where to put your hands?"
He knew where he was sorely tempted to put his hands, but he refrained and grasped her fingers with one and slid the other one around to cover her shoulder. It was safe territory, but it didn't keep him from acknowledging the softness of her skin or the scent of her shampoo.
"You're not pushing me on a swing," Paige giggled, "Put your hand lower."
Walter's lips parted as he stroked his hand down her bare back to rest just below her shoulder blade. He swallowed noisily, and she said, a little breathlessly, "Lower. Walter, put your hand lower."
He slipped his hand even farther down and around her, and Paige's voice dropped too. She murmured huskily, "Good. Now keep it there at the small of my back."
They began shuffling and swaying in time to the music and suddenly he was dancing with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.
She smiled at him turning his insides molten. Her eyes sparkling flirtatiously, she praised, "Not bad. It's easy, right?"
He cleared his suddenly dry throat and babbled, "Basic mathematics. Count the beats. Four-four time. 60 beats per minute."
"Well, that explains it," she teased him at the same time as both her nearness and lithe movements tantalized him. She was a warm bundle of temptation in his arms, her body occasionally brushing against his. Of their own accord his fingers began a slow slide downward as his arm tightened around her waist bringing her closer.
It was a good thing the couple next to them didn't appear to be speaking to each other because he wouldn't have been able to pick up one word over the pounding of his heart.
They somehow managed to follow the other pair of dance partners around the floor toward the edge of the room.
Paige pressed fully into him making him nearly go cross-eyed, enticing him to touch his mouth to her neck where the soft tendrils of her hair stirred when he exhaled.
Her lips skimmed his ear as she murmured, "Walter? Look, they're following someone out that door into the next room."
What? Feeling abnormally sluggish, his brain finally connected and translated what she was trying to convey. "Did you see who it was?" He asked, his words a little shaky.
"No. I could tell it was a man and he was in a navy uniform. I couldn't see anything else."
Walter immediately released Paige. It wasn't wholly necessary to lead her by the hand, but for some reason he felt he should anyway and did so as they moved away from the other dancers in the direction the Le Beaus went. His eyes darted around trying to figure out how to get to them while remaining undercover. "There. The balcony off the ballroom. If we go out there, we can climb onto the balcony of the next room. The one they entered with the mystery man. We can hide out there beside the open doors and see if we can overhear anything or get a glimpse of the man they left with."
Paige looked at him in askance. "Climb? In this dress?"
Suppressing frustration now that his focus shifted and was entirely fixed on capturing their prey, he said, "I'll help you." And he continued striding out the door practically pulling her behind him out onto the balcony.
The breeze felt heavenly after the heat of the ballroom and the press of bodies all around them. He had no time to think about it though as he clambered onto the rail and, trying for stealth, jumped to the adjoining one only slightly stumbling over his feet on the landing, arms pin-wheeling momentarily until he stabilized.
He abruptly turned and held out his arms for Paige, looking at her expectantly. She shook her head. "You're kidding, right?"
Walter frowned at her impatiently. "Don't worry. I'll catch you. Most likely." His whisper came out harsh-sounding.
"Great. What if I pull you over with me?" She mouthed, still looking hesitant.
He briefly glanced down. "I estimate it's only about a twelve foot drop. The odds of sustaining life-threatening injuries are minimal. Don't look down." He reached for her as if that settled it.
Sighing, Paige yanked off her heels and teetered up on to the rail on stocking feet. Gathering her skirt up around her thighs so it wouldn't restrict her movements, she lurched toward Walter. He froze for a split second at the sight of her bared legs and the glimpse of the garters holding up her unmentionables, but he recovered in time to catch her. It was more of a creative fall than a jump, and she gracelessly landed on top of him as her momentum pushed him backwards, tackling him to the tiles in the process.
"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay," Paige breathed to herself.
"I'm not," he grunted softly as she scrambled to get up.
She gave him an exasperated look and helped him to his feet. When they were both upright again, they stood stock still, listening intently to the voices on the other side of the open doors. He motioned for her to move with him as he slunk over to stand closer against the wall by the doorway.
They picked up talk of a delivery happening in the cove, something about the buyer being nervous with all the officers on the property and reassurances the party was the perfect cover.
Then one of the voices suggested they move out onto the balcony where it was cooler and so they could be positive they weren't overheard by anyone in the ballroom.
Paige and Walter's gazes collided in panic at being discovered. There was nowhere to hide and it would take too long to get back onto the other landing.
With his thoughts whirring thinking of possible solutions and discarding them just as rapidly, it took him a moment to register what Paige was asking.
"Walter, have you ever kissed a woman before?"
Blinking, he shook his head. Why was that pertinent to their current situation?
"Well, get ready. You're about to."
That's when Paige grabbed him by the lapels and mashed her lips against his.
