Author's note: Surprise! I know I said I was putting this story on hiatus while I finished Shock Wave but for some reason, I felt like working on it again. Enjoy!

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Monday morning, Toby sighed as he filled in the blanks on the government form in front of him. He hated doing paperwork, but sadly, as in so many things in life, it was a necessary evil. And he didn't like upsetting Allie. She already had enough on her plate, like dating a grumpy old federal agent, not to mention dealing with four eccentric geniuses.

Looking up, he sought out his wife, who was parting out a old motorcycle. She was in her element; nuts and bolts and wrenches and grease. He couldn't believe they would be parents in three months.

Just as he decided to go over and see if Happy needed any help, Sylvester came bustling through the creaky door. The big guy abruptly stopped in front of the couch and looked down at the floor before glancing around. "Where's Walter?"

"Where's Walter," Toby repeated, unable to hold back a giggle. "Maybe we should get him a red and white striped shirt and red hat so he'll be easier to find."

"What are you talking about?" Sly obviously didn't understand the reference, judging by the confusion on his face. Between the younger genius and Walter, he didn't know which one of them was more clueless about pop culture.

"He hasn't come down yet," the shrink said. "Why do you want to know?"

The human calculator walked over to his desk and set down his briefcase. "I had to come back to the garage Friday evening to retrieve my, uh. . .something and. . ."

"Ooo, your what?" Toby hopped out of his chair and practically skipped over to Sylvester. "And why don't you want us to know what it is?"

"Keep me out of this," Happy called out from her workbench. "And leave the kid alone."

"But he's keeping secrets and I want to know why."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, it was my wizard's hat," Sly stated. "Are you happy now?"

"Yes, because now I can make fun of you for being a nerd," Toby replied, plopping his butt on a corner of the other man's desk. "Or does playing Fantasy and Frolics make you a geek? Or maybe a dork?"

"So you don't want to know what was going on?"

"What was going on where? Your dorkfest?"

"No. Here. Friday night." Sylvester's eyes darted upward as he lowered his voice. "There were odd sounds coming from up there." He pointed unnecessarily to the loft.

"What kind of odd sounds?" Happy asked as she wiped her hands on a rag.

"I thought you weren't interested," said Toby.

"Maybe I changed my mind, numbnuts," she shot back. "Go on, Sly, spill."

"There were some loud thumps," he said, his expression a combination of revulsion and distress.

The shrink snorted. "You think it was a ghost? Is that what has you freaked out?"

"No, I don't think it was a ghost.." Sylvester let out a frustrated sigh. "I think it was Walter. The thumps were followed by a rhythmic squeaking noise. But that's not the only weird thing I noticed," he continued. "There was a woman's sweater on the floor by the couch."

"Maybe it was Allie's," suggested Happy.

Toby raised his eyebrows as he turned to the mechanic, surprised by her naiveté. Thumps, rhythmic squeaking, stray articles of female attire. . . It didn't take a genius to figure out what had been going on.

"Chances are," he said, "ol' Wally was upstairs with someone, odds on a female given his proclivities, doing the hokey-pokey."

"Ew." Both Happy and Sylvester screwed up their faces in disgust.

"Yes, it's gross," the shrink agreed. "I wonder who could have been though."

"You don't think it was Allie?" The human calculator looked like he was about to hurl his breakfast.

"Of course not, dumbass," said Happy. "She's not the only woman in the greater Los Angeles area who wears sweaters."

"What about Linda?" asked Sly as he pushed up his glasses.

"I doubt it." Happy pursed her lips as she stroked her pregnant belly. "He was really pissed when you tried to get them back together," she said, glaring at her husband.

"That's true." Walter had been angry enough to finally divulge the details of his short-lived relationship with Florence. The fact the two of them hadn't hit it off perturbed him. Usually he had a knack for matching up compatible couples. Just look at him and Happy.

"You don't think he would pick up someone at a bar, do you?" Sylvester shuddered at the idea.

"One, he doesn't drink. Two, he would never have sex with someone he doesn't know," said Toby. "He's not wired that way."

"So what if it was a woman he did know?" asked the mechanic.

Sly shook his head. "Like who? We've already eliminated Linda. His other two exes are married, that leaves just P. . ."

"The cheating bitch. He couldn't possibly be that stupid," Happy cut in before the younger genius could say Paige's name. One of these days Toby was going to have to sit down and have a little chat with the missus about her persistent hostility toward the team's former liaison. Perhaps after their bambino was born. Or perhaps when it was old enough to go to college.

Changing the subject, he said, "Remember Simone Taylor, that Interpol agent we worked with a few years back? She was warm for his form." The shrink didn't know if anyone else, including Walter, had noticed the French woman's interest in the genius with the 197 IQ. But he certainly had.

"We would have known if she'd come back to LA," Happy pointed out.

"Not necessarily," he countered. "She could have slipped in, slipped out, shown Walter what it's all about."

"What about that crypto-computer scientist?"the human calculator chimed in as the mechanic opened her mouth to contradict him. "Gloria Swenson. She was really nice."

"Ha, you have a crush on her, don't you?" Toby teased as Sylvester's cheeks flushed a light pink. "Admit it."

Sly didn't have time to answer as footsteps from the stairs announced Walter's arrival. "Good morning," he greeted them as he reached the ground floor. "What?" he asked as he glanced up and saw they were all staring at him, each wearing a different odd expression.

"Did you have a good weekend, Walt?" Toby's face was graced with a smirk. But then it usually was.

"I did," he replied, not volunteering any additional information. Something was going on, something he wasn't going to like.

"I bet," said the shrink.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Walter could see the mischief in the other man's eyes.

"Did you know Sylvester dropped by Friday night?"

"No." No, he did not know that. Paige and Ralph had been with him Friday night. He didn't dare ask what time the younger genius had been there. That would be like throwing gasoline on the already out of control bonfire in the behaviorist's mind.

Toby sauntered toward Walter. "Do you want to know what he heard and saw?"

"Not particularly, but I assume you're going to tell me anyway."

"Thumps and squeaks and a sweater by the couch. A woman's sweater."

Oh shit. Panic surged through him and he did his best to tamp it back down. He couldn't let them see how rattled he was by the shrink's announcement. Shrugging as nonchalantly as he muster, he said, "Must be Allie's. Just put it on her desk so she'll see it when she comes in."

"It's gone," Sylvester said, a slightly accusatory edge to his statement.

Damn, Paige must have picked it up before she left. His brain scrambled for possible alternatives, latching on to several options. "Are you sure it was a sweater?" he asked. "It could. . .could have been Ferret Bueller or. . . " He paused to chuckle, one which sounded weak even to his ears. "Maybe one of the possums came down from the rafters for a visit."

"I know what I saw," said the human calculator rather defensively. "It was a woman's black cardigan."

"Okay, maybe it was Allie's," Toby conceded. "But how do you explain the thumping and a-bumping and the squeakety, squeakety squeaking the big guy heard coming from your loft?"

Walter took short, shallow breaths, trying not to get flustered as he understood what the other man was implying. "I was working on the satellite antenna station," he answered truthfully. "I made a lot of progress on it over the weekend. Sly, you should have. . .have come up. I could've used, uh, your help," he lied, inwardly grateful the younger genius had decided not to investigate.

"Oh, I just had to get something really quick," Sly said.

"Yeah, your dorky wizard hat." Toby formed his hands into a triangle atop his own stupid hat.

"It's not dorky," the human calculator said. "Anyway, Dyfrost was waiting for me out in the car."

"I thought Dyfrost didn't drive," said Happy.

"He doesn't," Sylvester admitted, his face turning red again. "His mom drove us."

"Now that's cleared up," Walter began, hoping to steer the conversation in a different direction, "we can. . ."

"Hold on," Toby cut in. "So you weren't with some floozy this weekend?"

"No, I was not with a floozy this weekend." Another fact. He would never describe Paige as a floozy.

"You just worked on your satellite antenna the whole time?" asked Happy, her eyes staring suspiciously at him.

"I did eat and sleep," he said, imparting more truthful information.

"So just work and taking care of natural body functions?" Toby asked, whose expression matched the mechanic's.

"Yes." Sex counted as a natural body function.

"I'm not seeing any deception markers." The shrink shook his head. "But I still smell something fishy about this whole thing."

"Maybe you're smelling the leftover fermented herring I had for breakfast?" Walter said in all seriousness.

Happy laughed. "If he's been eating his stinky fish bait, he definitely wasn't with anyone this weekend."

Toby and Sly joined in her merriment as Cabe and Allie walked through the door. "What's so funny?" asked the agent.

"Walter," the psychiatrist choked out between guffaws. "Hey, Allie," he said as he straightened up. "You don't happen to own a black cardigan, do you?"

"I own several," she replied as confusion appeared on her face .

"You haven't misplaced one recently, have you?"

"I don't think. . ." she began before Cabe interrupted her.

"You forgot a sweater here the other day," he said. "We had to come back and get it, remember?"

"Oh yes, that's right." She smiled tentatively. "Why do you want to know?"

Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as Walter worried Toby would question her further. But the shrink let the matter drop with a shrug, saying "No reason."

A feeling of smugness swept through him as the behaviorist wandered over to his own desk, but it quickly faded when he realized how close his relationship with Paige had come to being exposed. Something he wasn't ready to do, not as long as the others still hated her. And if he was being honest with himself, he was still reluctant to let them know as long as he continued to struggle with trusting her.

With a sigh, he walked over to his desk and sat down, studiously ignoring the rest of the team as he flipped on his computer.

ooooo

The creaking of the garage door drew Walter's attention away from his screen. "Mr Elia," he said, getting to his feet as the billionaire walked inside. "Is there something wrong with the. . ."

"It's Richard. And, no, just the opposite," the older man declared. "I was in the neighborhood so I wanted to drop by and personally thank you all on the great progress you've made. We should make our deadline and we couldn't have done that without you guys. . .and gal," he added when Happy grunted menacingly.

Walter had been grateful Elia had given Scorpion, and him, a second chance to contribute to the new smart building his company was constructing. Work on the high-tech building had not only intensified in the past two and a half weeks, but had provided enough of a distraction to keep the others from finding out he and Paige were back together. The incident with the sweater had been too close of a call.

"Aw, shucks, you shouldn't have," said Toby, who had popped out of his chair. "But it's not the real reason why you're slumming in this part of town, is it?"

"Okay, you caught me.' Elia reached into his jacket pocket and brought out what appeared to be two tickets. "I do have an ulterior motive. The Green Energy Showcase is this weekend in Las Vegas and I'd planned to go but something else came up so. . ."

"So?" Happy prompted.

"I was wondering if Walter could go in my place."

"Of course," he replied, a little stunned by the older man's announcement. Ralph had an overnight marine biology trip that weekend. He and Paige hadn't made any definite plans, certainly nothing they couldn't exchange for a trip to Vegas. "I can go. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," said the billionaire. "Remember the retractable solar panels we installed on the first building? We've modified them to sell to the average homeowner," he continued after Walter nodded. "I'm supposed to make a presentation. . ."

"You want me to do it instead?"

"If you wouldn't mind." Elia held out the tickets he still held in his hand. "I'll give you my notes. It's pretty basic and you were in on the original design. . ."

"It shouldn't be a problem," Walter said as he took the tickets.

"I've booked an executive suite at Aria Sky Suites. . ." The billionaire paused as Toby let out a whistle. Walter tossed the behaviorist a warning glare. "It's already paid for so I'll just have the reservation put in your name," Elia continued. "About transportation, both my jets will be in use, but I can book you a flight. . ."

"That's okay," Walter said. "It's not that far, w. . .I can drive there."

"Well, that's settled then." The older man seemed pleased. "I'll have my assistant email the pertinent information and my notes." He extended his hand. "I really appreciate this, Walter."

Walter shook the other man's hand. "Thank you for the opportunity. I only hope I can adequately fill your shoes." He scowled once again at Toby, who was pretending to gag.

As soon the door creaked shut behind Elia, the rest of the team huddled around Walter's desk. "So," drawled Toby as he glanced first at Happy, then Sylvester, before settling his gaze on Walter. "Which one of us are you going to take with you?"