Author's note: Happy Scorpion Monday! Luckily I had this chapter written before I got sick last week. Hopefully it's coherent because I'm still too sick to proofread.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

MUCH EARLIER THAT EVENING

"Oh, man, Walter's going to be pissed."

"First of all, yes, he is. Secondly, don't ever let your mom hear you say 'pissed'," Toby admonished the young genius as he, Ralph, Cabe, and Sylvester stared at the remains of Walter's lab.

"I knew if I mixed molten sodium and water, they'd explode," explained the youngster as he took in the scorched table covered in shattered glass and melted plastic. "I just didn't realize it would be so. . ."

"Reckless?" "Stupid?" "Irresponsible?" Sly, Cabe, and Toby each took a turn finishing his sentence.

"Explosive." He grinned as the blast replayed in his head. "It was pretty cool though. And I got to use a fire extinguish. . ."

"That's nothing to be proud of, Ralphie boy." The shrink looked worried.

"What are they teaching you in that camp anyway?" asked the Homeland agent.

Not much he didn't already know. But he'd known that when his mom had signed him up. It wasn't so much a chance to learn than it was to meet other kids his age interested in the sciences. "Today we learned about chemical reactions. Which ones are harmless and ones that aren't."

"So you decided to test one of the harmful ones?" Sylvester's voice had risen an octave and Ralph kind of felt bad he frightened the human calculator. He needed to make amends.

"I'm sorry," he announced somewhat truthfully. "I"ll clean up the mess and replace any damaged equipment."

"Damn right you will." Ralph could tell by Cabe's serious expression the older man would hold him to his word.

"That's all well and good," said Toby with a look in his eyes which made Ralph wary. "But why don't you tell me why you really did it? And none of that 'I just wanted to see what would happen' crap. We may not be as smart as you, but we're not idiots either. What gives?"

Heaving a sigh of defeat, Ralph knew the doc would pester him until he confessed. Unconsciously he copied Walter, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring at his shoes as he imparted emotional data he didn't understand. "Walter stayed in my mom's room last night. I. . .I know what that means."

The three men glanced at each uncomfortably as he continued. "Don't get me wrong, I've wanted them to be together since the beginning. So why wouldn't they tell me?" He scanned the men's faces, picking up guilt markers Toby had taught him to look for.

"You guys already knew, didn't you?" he accused.

"They didn't tell us either, if that's what you're asking" said the shrink. "We figured it out on our own."

Sly whipped his head around to glare at the other man. "No you didn't. You eavesdropped on my conversation with Walter when I asked him if what Happy had told me was true."

The psychiatrist actually looked sheepish. "Oh yeah."

"Does it really matter how you found out?" asked Cabe. "I thought you said it's what you've wanted all along?"

"It is." Curling his hands into fists, he tried to explain what was bothering him. "But what if it's not real?" What if it's just until they find the gun smugglers and when the case is over, they go back to how it was after Tim left." When his mom had been fluctuating between being sad and angry and Walter had been acting like he was scared of his own shadow around her. It had been painful to witness the two people he loved most in the world being so miserable.

"Because the thought of that. . ." He broke off, trying to stave off the tears forming in his eyes. "Well, it made me want to explode."

"Ralphie boy." Toby crouched down in front of him. He was a little gratified the older man now had to look up at him when he did so. "I don't think you have anything to worry about. They've been falling for each other since the day they met. If anything, this case has sped up the timeline a bit. And when it's over. . ." The shrink patted him on the shoulder. "It's probably gonna be a little awkward, but I don't think they'll regress to where they were before. It'll be okay. Trust me."

"Okay." What the older man said made sense. Exhaling as the worry lifted off him, he glanced at the destroyed worktable. "Guess I better start cleaning this up."

Sly tousled his hair. "We'll all pitch in," he suggested. "Then maybe get something to eat."

"Count me out," said Cabe. "I gotta report in early tonight." He glanced at his watch before heading toward the door.

"Can we have pizza?" Ralph asked hopefully as he picked up the distorted remains of a petri dish.

"Sure, why not?" Toby came forward, holding a broom and dustpan. "We wouldn't want to break our nightly pizza consumption streak at six, would we?"

"Nope." Smiling as he tossed debris into a waste bin, Ralph decided while he'd had his doubts at first about the three men babysitting him, they'd turned out to be excellent caretakers. He just hoped Toby was right about his mom and Walter finally being together. It would make one of his dreams come true.

ooooo

Walter's phone rang as he accessed the venue the next morning. Darby hadn't specified a time for the roadies to come back, so he'd made the logical assumption nine o'clock would be the appropriate time to arrive. But evidently he'd been wrong, since the place was deserted.

"Walter?" Sylvester sounded confused. "Are you free to talk?"

"Hey, Sly," he greeted the human calculator. "Yeah, I can talk. You got the data from the phones?"

"Yeah," said the other man. "I've got bad news and worse news. Which one do you want first?"

"Uh, the bad news, I guess." Oh shit, he hadn't messed up while cloning Zalina's cell, had he? Most of the evening had been an unmitigated disaster, so it would hardly be much of a surprise. Only the time he'd spent with Paige had been successful. . .and amazing.

"Okay, well, the info you copied last night doesn't show anything definitively incriminating. Just a lot of calls to several numbers in Chechnya."

"That makes sense," Walter replied, swallowing his disappointment. "Paige said she had a fiancé from there. Maybe she's still in contact with his family?"

"I tried to look them up using a reverse directory, but. . . " The younger genius sighed in annoyance. "The Russian telecommunications network is a nightmare. I managed to trace one number to a woman who lives in Grozny, a Khava Koslov. But I couldn't find out anything about her besides her name. Cabe's running her through Homeland's database."

"So that's the bad news. What's the worse news?" Walter closed his eyes, more than a little upset. He'd nearly been forced to have sex with another woman and his traumatic efforts had turned up nothing concrete. Disturbing imagery from the night before flashed through his head. He immediately tuned it out, concentrating on what Sylvester was saying.

". . .the phone Paige cloned." Sly exhaled loudly. "I think she may have inadvertently captured two cells at the same time. I can't tell which calls came from what phone. Which is really bad."

"Why?" Walter ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"Because I'm 99.9% positive one of them is your gun smuggler."

ooooo

Walter had attempted to call Paige as soon as he disconnected with Sylvester, but her phone went straight to voice mail. He wouldn't see her again until after they arrived in San Francisco. A fact which had weighed heavily on his mind when he had left her earlier that morning.

He didn't get a chance to try again as Akim, Mikhail, and a couple of the other roadies finally showed up. The head roadie started barking out orders, and Walter got the feeling the other man was pissed off he'd gotten there before the rest of them.

"Hey, Groupie Boy." Happy's voice was accompanied by an elbow in his ribs.

He stopped coiling a cord as he turned in her direction. "Wha. . .?" His power of speech dwindled away as he got a good look of her.

The mechanic's dark hair now sported bright red braided streaks framing the sides of her face. And as he examined her closer, he noticed a small diamond sparkling above her left nostril.

"They'll grow out and grow shut. So pick your jaw up off the floor and tell me what's up."

Waving his hand at her, he said, "Why?" He'd known her for over six years. Or at least he thought he did. She'd never done anything with her hair except pin it back on occasion. And she'd worn jewelry before, just not in her nose.

"Why not?" Happy shrugged. "Jesus, Walt, don't get your panties in a wad. Anya and I got bored last night."

"Uh. . ." His face grew hot and the question he didn't really want to ask burned in his throat.

"And no, I didn't sleep with her. Well, not that way." She rolled her eyes. "We just hung out. Not everything is about sex, dummy. Speaking of which. . ." Crossing her arms, she said, "Did you clone Zalina's phone?"

He nodded, flinching inwardly at the blonde singer's name being so casually spoken.

"Did Sly find anything?"

"Yeah." Walter recounted what Sylvester had told him earlier. "Well, that sucks," she announced. "You didn't see who else was there with Paige and Nazar?"

"No, Akim had me go under the stage to make sure all the connections were secured." Walter furrowed his brow. "You didn't see anything?"

She shook her head. "I was setting charges behind the backdrop," she said. "Dammit. . ."

Whatever she'd been about to say was drowned out by the arrival by several band members, led by Yuri. "Where is Darby?" he called out as he glanced around the stage.

"What this?" The manager hurried up to confront the group. "What going on?"

"We want you to cancel next concert," said the lead singer. "We took vote and. . ."

"What vote? I not vote. We lose money. . ."

"All you care about is money. Fuck money. What if there is protest again? What if someone gets killed next time?"

The two men started shouting and gesturing at each other. A shudder tore through Walter as he noticed Zalina standing next to Yuri, adding her voice to the fray. She evidently hadn't notice him - yet.

Memories flooded his consciousness. Memories of her hands touching him, stroking him, her lips on his, how he'd almost. . . Gasping for breath, he began trembling as sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Oh, shit, he was going to be sick.

He turned away, heading into the dark recesses of the building. Collapsing against a wall, he gulped in large quantities of air, trying to quell his panic, more than a little pissed with himself for allowing her to affect him this way.

After several long minutes of focusing on Paige and how wonderful she was, he felt calmer. His eyes had adjusted to the poorly lit alcove, which appeared to be some kind of storage area for odds and ends. It was mostly audio and video equipment except for two large crates pushed up against a wall.

Walter frowned, recalling a pair of similar looking crates backstage at the venue in San Diego. It couldn't be a coincidence. Sure of their content, he searched for something to pry one open. In the distance, he could hear the others still arguing. Singling out Akim's not-so-dulcet bellowing, he hoped it would be awhile before he was missed.

Five minutes later, holding a discarded microphone stand, he calculated how much force he'd need to use, taking into account its sturdiness (or rather it's lack thereof) and where to place the fulcrum for optimal efficiency. In the back of his brain, he knew his chance of success was low and he proved himself correct as the stand nearly bent in half as he attempted to utilize it.

Walter tossed the twisted metal aside. It clanged against something, something whose contents shifted in a very familiar way. Stepping around a broken folding chair, he looked down and smiled. A rusty old tool box sat on the floor, filled with scarred wrenches and dull screwdrivers and. . .a crow bar.

Within seconds, he was forcing the lid of the crate loose. Frustration filled him as chunks of thick grey packing foam covered whatever was inside. Impatiently he pitched a piece of the material over his shoulder, wincing as the motion pulled at the healing scratches on his back. Gritting his teeth, he continued on until he could see what lay underneath.

"Oh boy." He exhaled loudly. At least a dozen rifles rested atop another layer of the grey foam and he could tell there were more beneath. Both sides of the crate were stacked with small boxes. He lifted the lid of the nearest one, staring at the grenades cradled in more packing material.

There was only one thing he could do. Yanking his phone from his pocket, he hit speed dial. "Cabe?"

The older man cleared his throat, and he belatedly realized he probably woke up the agent. "Walter, what's up?" asked Cabe in a groggy voice which confirmed his suspicion.

"Sorry if I woke. . ."

"No, it's okay. I gotta hit the head anyway." His mentor chuckled then sobered. "Did you find out who the other phone belongs to?"

"No. I found a container filled with. . ."

Behind him, Walter heard the unmistakable sound of a pistol being cocked, followed by a voice he instantly recognized.

"Drop phone. . .or I shoot."