Author's note: If anyone needs to take a break from this story until they can deal, I'm okay with that. I'm going to continue to post new chapters so they'll be here when you're ready to resume. Writing this is really helping me with my angst. And once again, I wrote most of the dialogue for this chapter last year.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ralph must have been waiting out in the hall. It seemed like a only few seconds had passed before the boy entered the room.

"I was afraid you were going to die," he said as he cautiously approached Walter's bed.

"I'll be okay," he said, hoping to reassure himself as much as Ralph. "I can leave as soon as they run some more tests."

The boy genius reached out for Walter's hand, which he took. To think just a few years earlier, such contact would have been unbearable, hard for him to process. Now. . . He didn't know how he was going to do without it. "What happened?" Ralph asked, breaking through his gloomy thoughts.

Walter pressed his lips together as he inhaled through his nose. Was Ralph asking about his medical condition? Or what caused it? He decided to answer the former. "I had an arrhythmia."

The youngster smiled weakly. "That's what you used to call my mom because she made your. . ."

". . .heart skip a beat." Walter finished the sentence when it became apparent the words were stuck in the boy's throat. The absurdity was not lost on him.

"You. . .You can't be with us anymore, can you?" asked Ralph, although it was more of a statement than a question.

He hadn't given much thought as to what the future held. He was still reeling from the turmoil of the whole situation. But the boy genius was correct. He couldn't be with them. . .with her. The images of her kissing the interloper, images of them together. . . His stomach churned as he reached the same conclusion Ralph had.

"No. I'm sorry, Ralph."

"She lied to you, didn't she?" Without waiting for an answer, the boy went on. "She lied to me too. She said she was going somewhere with you this afternoon and I had to stay with the sitter instead of hanging out at the garage." Ralph sighed wearily. "And just now, when I walked past her. . . I smelled Tim's cologne. I remembered it because I always thought it smelled like shit. She was with him, wasn't she?"

"Yes." Walter let the language slide, sickened she would so blatantly deceive her own son. It was like she almost wanted to get caught. Maybe she had. Maybe she'd grown tired of all the sneaking around and once again wanted to flaunt her relationship with the interloper in his face. "I'm sorry, buddy."

"Me, too," said Ralph. "I was hoping you could be. . ." The boy barely choked out the rest of his sentence, ". . .be my dad for real."

Pressing his lips together and his eyes closed, Walter struggled and failed to fight back his own tears. He leaned over the side of the bed as best he could and opened his arms. Ralph fell into them, wrapping his arms around Walter's neck. The boy's tears dampened the shoulder of his hospital gown as his own streamed down his face.

He kept repeating "I'm sorry," although they both knew he wasn't the one to blame. Finally, Ralph stepped back, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

"Ralph, listen. . ." A lump formed in Walter's throat. "I'll always love you. . .and your mom. Okay? I just can't. . .I just can't be with her right now. Maybe ever." He lifted his eyes to meet Ralph's. "Maybe someday," he began, hoping what he was about to say would come true, "when you're a little older. . . We can. . .we can reconnect?"

The youngster nodded. "I'd like that."

"Go with Sylvester," he instructed as the boy swiped at his nose. "Have him take you somewhere away from the garage for the rest of the night, okay?"

"Okay. Walter. . ." Ralph's lip was quivering and his eyes were shimmering.

Walter took a deep breath. "Ralph, you are my son. Maybe not biologically. But here," he said as he placed his hand over his heart, "where it counts. Don't ever forget that."

"I won't." Ralph put his hand over his own heart. "I love you, too, Walter."

"Tell Sly to come back in."

"Okay." Ralph hugged Walter again. He whispered, "I'm sorry" against Walter's cheek then turned on his heel and pushed his way through the door.

Sylvester re-entered the room several minutes later. Walter had barely composed himself, knew traces of tears still remained on his face, but he didn't care. "I've already talked to Ralph," he began, explaining his desire to keep the boy away from the garage. Sly readily agreed.

"Tell Cabe I'd appreciate him sticking around. I'm going to need a ride back home later," he said briskly, watching the other man's eyes well up. "Tell everyone else I'm going to be fine and they don't need to stay."

"Okay, Walter." The big guy came in for a hug. Walter froze at first, trying to keep his emotions in check but failing, as something inside him broke and he was soon blubbering as hard as Sly was.

"I'm going to be okay, Sylvester," he said as the other man pulled back, both of them wiping their faces.

"Walter, I'm. . .." The human calculator was prevented from saying anything further by the arrival of the nurse. Which was just as well. Walter didn't think he could handle another apology.

"We're ready to run one of the tests, Mr O'Brien," she announced. "Your visitors will need to come back later."

"I was leaving anyway," said Sly. He flashed a thumbs up at Walter, a cheery fake smile on his face. "Hope you ace your test, brother."

"Thanks. . .brother."

Walter watched as Sylvester left the room, ignoring the questioning look of the nurse.

ooooo

"I strongly advise against this, Mr O'Brien."

Walter's doctor stood in front of him with her arms crossed, holding his chart in one hand. He was tying his shoelace, the last step of getting dressed and leaving.

"You need to stay overnight for observation," the doctor declared.

"I'm tired of being observed," he countered, rising up from his chair. "Your tests found nothing wrong and I just want to go home."

"That we found nothing wrong is exactly why you need to stay." She tapped the clipboard. "We don't know why you suffered an arrhythmia. What if you have another one?"

"Then I have another one," he said. "One of my friends is a Harvard trained physician. He can keep an eye on me." He didn't tell her he was going to kick everyone out of the garage as soon as he got back. He was in no mood to deal with either their sympathy or their curiosity.

"You are one pig-headed man, Mr O'Brien." The doctor gestured to a nearby nurse. "Let him sign himself out. Make sure he knows the consequences of his reckless decision."

Walter signed everything stuck in front of him before submitting to an orderly wheeling him out to the waiting room. Cabe was the only one left, sitting in a chair, reading an outdated sports magazine, and drinking what was probably his tenth cup of coffee.

"Hey, son," he said, tossing the magazine aside as he got to his feet. "Everything all right?"

The level of concern in the agent's voice surprised Walter and he hoped the older man wouldn't try to hug him too. They'd whip him back into a hospital bed before he could protest.

"I'm fine," he replied for what felt like the hundredth time. "There isn't any permanent damage. My heart is fine." Except for the fact it had been shattered into a billion little pieces.

The ride back in Happy's truck was silent after Cabe had explained in minute detail why they were in the mechanic's vehicle. Evidently a great deal of car swapping had taken place after Walter had left the garage. After the agent had informed him someone had retrieved his Malibu, the older man seemed to run out of conversation. Or so Walter thought.

"How bad is it?" Cabe asked quietly, giving him a quick worried glance.

Walter sighed. He already explained. . . "They didn't find anything wrong with my heart, Cabe," he replied wearily.

"That's not what I mean."

Closing his eyes, Walter realized he meant the situation between him and Paige. "It's over," he said, looking out the side window.

The agent nodded. "I can't blame you, son. What she did. . ."

The image of her kissing him in the motel doorway popped into his head. He reopened his eyes, the picture disappearing as oncoming headlights blinded him.

"She. . . I. . . What she did. . . I just can't. . ." His words stuck in his throat, the sting of his tears burning his cheeks.

Cabe patted him on the shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "It's going to be tough for awhile. . ." He broke off with a deep sigh of his own. "When we get back. . . If she's there. . . I'll send her on her way if. . ."

"No," Walter replied. "I need to talk to her. I need. . . I just need to."

He felt Cabe scrutinize him, knew the older man was pitying him, comparing his situation to losing his wife, Rebecca, after their daughter had died. Probably thinking he was a fool for wanting to see Paige one last time.

"Okay," the agent finally said.

They pulled up in front of the garage fifteen minutes later. Cabe's SUV, Allie's sedan, Walter's car, and Paige's bright red Malibu were all parked in the alleyway.

As soon as they exited Happy's pickup, they could hear loud voices coming from inside. Cabe pushed his way through the door, leaving Walter to trail behind him.

"Why can't you get it through your empty skull you shouldn't be here?" shouted Happy. "If Walter doesn't kick your ass to the curb, I'm sure as fuck going to."

"Now, sweetheart," Toby said, holding out his hands like he was trying to calm a rabid dog. "Let her collect her stuff and go."

"Fine." Happy marched over to her workstation and snagged a cardboard box. "Fill it and get out," she ordered as she slapped it down in front of Paige. "I want you gone before Walter gets here."

"Shit, too late," the shrink mumbled, taking a step back as he noticed the other two men.

Walter locked eyes with Paige as she stood up from where she'd been sitting behind her desk. She was wearing a green turtle neck instead of the white blouse she had on earlier, and had exchanged her skirt for a pair of jeans. She stared back at him, her expression making him think of a cornered animal, wary and scared. Breaking his gaze, a swift scan of the area told him Sylvester and Ralph were thankfully nowhere in sight. Allie sat on the couch, trying to look innocuous.

"All right, listen up," barked Cabe. "You two, Mr and Mrs Curtis. Quinn-Curtis," he added after the mechanic shot him a dirty look. "You're going out to dinner with Allie and me." He looked over at Allie. "I guess I should ask you. . ."

"No, it's fine," she said, rising from the sofa. "We'd only be in the way here."

"But. . ." Toby started to protest but his wife slugged his upper arm. "Sounds like fun," Happy said in what Walter was sure a sarcastic tone.

"Sounds like a bad idea," her husband contradicted, glancing from Walter to Paige. "We can't just. . ."

"Nobody asked for your opinion, Doc," Cabe growled.

"I'm fine," Walter said. . .again.

"It's not you I'm worried about," said the behaviorist, tipping his head toward the liaison.

Walter bit off a mirthless laugh. "Don't worry. I'm not going to touch her." He raked a shaky hand through his hair, hoping he could keep that promise. "And uh, since you all don't like me making unilateral decisions concerning the company I founded," he began, recalling the last time he'd done so and how painful it had been, although it was nothing equal to what he was feeling now. "I want to terminate her employment with Scorpion, effective immediately. Does anyone have any objections?"

He stared at each one of them; Toby, Happy, Cabe. . . They all shifted their eyes to Paige then to the floor before shaking their heads. "What about Sly?" asked the shrink, lifting his chin defiantly.

"Well, it's a landslide. His vote doesn't matter," he replied, paraphrasing Sylvester's words about the vote making his then new car the company car.

"Come on." Cabe gruffly cleared his throat. "The day's not getting any younger. . ."

"And neither are you." Toby danced out of the way of Happy's fist as he turned to leave. Cabe and Allie left hand in hand as the mechanic hung back.

She walked up to Walter, placing her hand on his arm for brief moment. "I'm sorry,' she said softly before spinning on her boot heel and stalking out the door.

Tipping his head back, Walter let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He trudged toward his desk on feet made of lead, collapsing into his chair when his legs were no longer able to support him. Leaning forward, he grasped his head in his hands.

Her presence filled every inch of the garage. He could hear her breathing, the rustle of her clothing as she moved impatiently, her lavender scent tickling his nose. He didn't trust himself to look at her. Afraid to look into her hazel eyes, which he knew without having to see them were brimming with tears. Afraid to see her lip quivering as she bit it. Afraid that just small glimpse of her beautiful face would totally undo all his resolve to extract her from his life.

Swallowing past the huge lump in his throat, he stood up, bracing himself with his arms as his gaze was still aimed at his desktop. Then he broke the silence, asking the question he didn't know if he wanted answered.

"Why?"