Author's note: To the reviewers who want more progress on the case - once the case is over, so is the story. The case is, and has always been, secondary to the romantic shenanigans and comic tomfoolery of this fic. At least to me anyway.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

"Hey, noob, watch out!"

Walter turned around, holding the cord he'd just unplugged before dodging out of the way as Nazar pushed a handcart stacked with amps past him. The backstage area was a chaotic scene. The next group seeking to use the venue had shown up at eight o'clock that morning, and were not happy to find Zhalo's equipment still in place. He and the others were forced to do three hours of breaking down and loading up in an hour.

The other roadie stopped and leaned in conspiratorially. "Hey, you hear Yuri did the new chick?"

"Uh, no." Walter wasn't sure how to process this tidbit of gossip. He knew it wasn't true, but if everyone else thought it was, maybe Paige would be safe from more of the lead singer's crude advances.

"Yeah, she's, how you say it? Up grabs?"

"Up for grabs," he corrected. Oh, shit. His hypothesis had been debunked before it could even be tested.

"Yeah, that. Up for grabs now." Nazar nudged him with his elbow. "You gonna try, noob?"

Walter swallowed nervously as he closed his eyes. These men were pigs, and the women weren't much better. He could hardly tell Nazar he and Paige were already intimate. These assholes didn't stand a chance, although that probably wouldn't stop them from attempting to have sex with her.

"I, um. . .maybe?" he replied, hoping the other man would back off. "What about you?"

"I already have girl," said Nazar as he slapped Walter on the shoulder. "Good luck, noob," he laughed as he started to move away. "You going to need it."

"There's no such thing as luck," Walter muttered under his breath as he wound up the cord. He was placing it in the box with the other cords and cables when his cell rang. Pulling it from his back pocket, he hoped it was Paige, although he'd only left her about an hour earlier, he was missing her intensely. He glanced at the screen and frowned.

"Sylvester."

"Hey, Walter, can you talk?"

He knew the younger genius knew he was capable of speech, but it took him a moment to realize the other man had information to impart. "Yes," he replied as he bent down to pick up another cable. "What's up, Sly?"

"The phone Paige cloned is clean," said the human calculator, before launching into a tirade about the amount of indecent material on both Akim's and Yuri's cells. "It's disgusting," he finished.

"They're disgusting people," Walter replied. Dammit. Paige had endured being molested by the lead singer for nothing. "This puts us back to square one." He sighed. "I'm beginning to think the ATF got it wrong. These people, none of them are altruistic enough to believe in a cause, let alone supply arms to one. All they care about are drugs and sex."

"Speaking of. . .sex." Sylvester lowered his voice to a whisper on the last word. "Happy seems to think you. . .and Paige. . .last night."

Walter closed his eyes. Damn Happy anyway. He had a good idea why the normally taciturn mechanic was blabbing to everyone about his sex life. . . to deflect from her own rash behavior. And if Sly knew, it was only a matter of time until the shrink knew, and then. . . "It's really none of your business," he replied.

"Okay," said Sylvester with a chuckle. "So it's true?"

"Please don't say anything to Toby. Ralph needs to hear we're together from his mother."

"Uuhh, okay. So, yes?"

"Yes." Walter ran his hand through his hair. "Is there anything else important we need to discuss? I need to get back to work. "

"Cabe got hired on as event security for your concert here in LA."

"He mentioned he used to work security for concerts." Walter replayed the conversation he'd had with the agent at the beginning of the case and grimaced. He was doing a poor job of keeping an eye on either woman. Happy was running wild and Paige. . . He didn't like to dwell on what could have happened to her.

"Hey, noob, quit fucking around and get back to work!"

Walter swiveled around to see Akim standing next to Happy with a scowl on his face, which changed to a smile as he turned to the mechanic, who was placing powder canisters into a crate. The head roadie leaned close to her, saying something that made Happy laugh and grin up at the other man.

"Hey, Sly, I have to go. Talk to you later, okay?" Ending the call before the younger genius could reply, Walter then stuffed his cell back into his pocket. Unplugging another amp, he snuck a glance at Akim. Evidently it was okay for him to stand around and flirt with Happy, he grumbled to himself, while everyone else busted their ass. And what was Happy up to anyway? Akim had been eliminated as a suspect, why was she still hanging around him. . .and laughing. Something she rarely did, and usually at someone's else expense. She'd certainly laughed at him more times than he cared to count.

Peeking over at the couple, he hoped that was what she doing now. Because if she was falling for the head roadie. . . To use her own quote. . .'not good'.

ooooo

Sylvester stared at the phone in his hand before turning it off. Beside him, a giddy Toby was dancing with glee. "That wasn't fair," said the human calculator. "You should have let Walter know you were listening."

"And what? Spoil all the fun?" the shrink gasped out between guffaws.

"You better not tell Ralph."

"Oh, I won't." Toby braced himself against the desk. "No, I'm going to save all my ribald comments for Mr O'Brien and Ms Dineen."

Sly shook his head. "You need help."

"Says you." The behaviorist stuck out his tongue. "Who's the Harvard trained psychiatrist here?"

"That doesn't mean you aren't acting crazy."

"You'd act crazy too if you hadn't heard from the woman you loved in three days other than some drunken photos of her making out with another woman while sitting on another man's lap," the doc spit out bitterly as he adjusted his hat. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to my apartment for clean clothes and a little privacy. Smell ya later."

With that he spun on his heel and strode out of the garage. Sylvester shook his head again before returning his attention to his computer screen.

ooooo

Half an hour later, Walter wandered behind the stage, checking to make sure everything belonging to the band had been accounted for. Spying a cord, he bent over to pick it up, pulling up short when it went taut when he tugged on it. Following it, he discovered it was trapped under a couple of crates he didn't recognize.

He dismissed the notion they belonged to the next group. Their roadies were impatiently waiting for him and the rest of Zhalo's crew to clear the venue before moving in any of their equipment. Which was logical, since it curtailed any mix-ups of what belonged to whom.

Deciding to investigate, Walter had barely touched the nearest container when he heard footsteps behind him. Spinning around, he saw Mikhail walking toward him, pushing a hand cart.

"Are those ours?" the other roadie asked.

"I don't know," Walter replied. "I don't remember them being here last night."

Mikhail looked at him quizzically. "You would remember that?"

Walter opened his mouth to explain to the other man he had an eidetic memory and could remember everything he saw and heard, but snapped it shut when he recalled Happy's admonishment to keep his 'genius mouth shut.' "Uh, yeah, I checked out everything before w-we left for the hotel." He ran his hand over his face. "I-I could be wr-wr-wrong. It was a pretty, uh, w-wild night." His mouth curled into a smile as he remembered exactly how 'wild' it had been.

The other roadie grinned and slapped him on the shoulder. "Da, it was. We better get these loaded." Mikhail shoved the hand truck under the closest crate and began to lift it.

"Nyet, nyet." Both Walter and Mikhail turned to see Darby bustling toward them. "No," the manager said. "Those not ours."

Mikhail shrugged as he pulled the cart back out. "Okay." He pulled the cart away.

"Are you sure?" asked Walter, peering to see if there were any markings indicating ownership.

"Da," Darby nodded. "They stay here." He waved his hands. "Come with. We go now."

Walter glanced over at Mikhail, who hitched his shoulders again before following the manager across the stage. Yanking the cord out from under the mysterious crates, he eyed them one last time before going after the other two men.

ooooo

Happy was about to put her headphones over her ears when Walter climbed aboard their bus, sitting down in the seat opposite hers. "We need to talk" he said, frowning when she stuck her tongue out at him. Waiting until the driver started the engine, he then leaned toward her.

"Sly called," he announced in a low voice. "Yuri's phone is clean. He's not involved in any gun smuggling."

"So Paige had to. . .for nothing? That sucks," said the mechanic as she shifted in her seat.

"Yeah, I know." Walter ran his hand over the back of his neck. "Hey, so you told Sylvester about me and Paige?"

Happy had the decency to look guilty. "Sorry about that. It just came out."

"You know what Toby's going to say about it, don't you?"

"I said I'm sorry, what more do you want? The doc would have found out sooner or later."

"Like about you and Akim?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"He's flirting with you, and you haven't exactly been pushing him away," Walter said accusingly. "He's been cleared. You don't need to hang around him anymore."

"Listen, O'Brien, because I'm only going to tell you this once," she hissed. "There's nothing for Toby to find out about because there's nothing going on between me and Akim. He's my boss. I'm just being nice to him, okay?"

"I'm your boss and you're never that nice to me."

"Yeah," she chuckled, a wide grin splitting her face, "because you're stuck with me no matter what." Her face sobered as she lifted her headphones. "So if you're done with the inquisition, Torquemada, I'd like to chill for a couple of hours."

"Fine." Walter slumped back into his seat, glancing out the window at the passing buildings.

"Hey, noob. . .uh, Valter."

He turned around to see Mikhail standing in the aisle behind him. "You want to play cards with us?" the roadie invited as he tilted his head toward the back of the vehicle.

A strange feeling swept through Walter at the other man's offer. He'd never made friends easily, had never been accepted a part of a group. At least not until he'd started Scorpion. People would make overtures, but he usually scared them away with his aberrant behaviors. To be asked to join the other roadies in one of their favorite pastimes when only a few days ago they all had been so contemptuous of him. . .

He wasn't sure what to do. Shooting a glance over at Happy, she tipped her head encouragingly while mouthing, "Go for it."

"Okay." He got to his feet, hoping he wasn't making a mistake.

"You, too, Happy," said Mikhail, smiling down at the mechanic. "Akim save seat for you."

She put her headphones on. "Thanks but no thanks," she replied. "I'm gonna take a nap."

The Russian shrugged. "Okay. Come on, Valter."

Walter watched as the other man made his way to the back of the bus and took a step in that direction. Happy grabbed his arm before he could take another. "Turn off your brain," she suggested in a whisper, "and don't count cards."

"I'm not an idiot," he said indignantly. Being around Paige had taught him most people weren't impressed by a know-it-all. And being around Toby had taught him people didn't like to be cheated.

"And pull the stick out of your ass and loosen up," Happy said, letting him go as she leaned back against the window.

"Okay," he said, rolling his eyes. Like she was any more an expert on interpersonal relationships than he was. With a shake of his head, he walked down the narrow aisle to where Mikhail and two other roadies were waiting for him. One of the men was making a show out of shuffling a deck of cards.

Oh, boy. What kind of card games did Russians play anyway? Walter doubted they were into poker or blackjack, the games he'd utilized to gain his stake to start Scorpion. He guessed he would find out, feeling slightly apprehensive as he wondered what he'd gotten himself into.