Chapter Six.

So, here she was. She had to admit that this was the first time she had been in a perp's home with their welcome, and she did not know if she liked it or not. She knew that Walter had seen her, at the club, and by the glances he threw at her when she wasn't looking, he seemed to share her wary mindset.

"I'm a private investigator from New York," Olivia was explaining as Astrid was setting out the makings for coffee, and Walter had pulled on an over shirt, rubbing at the faint stubble on his face, "I'm very sorry that it's so early, but I work nights, so it's easy for me to be up at this time…"

"A nocturnal circadian rhythm rather than the traditional diurnal, yes, yes," Walter yawned.

Olivia and Astrid both looked at him blankly.

"Go on," Walter said, cowed.

Time to flash her knowledge. "Dr. Bishop-"Olivia started.

"Whoa whoa whoa- Doctor?" Astrid laughed, glancing at Walter, who looked grave, "Listen, miss Dunham, I think you've got the wrong guy… Walter plays the piano, and before that he was in the war…" She looked to Walter again, who continued to be silent, "…Walter?"

Walter said nothing, fiddling with a frayed scratch on the couch upholstery.

Astrid looked as if she didn't know if she should feel impressed or betrayed. So whatever Walter Bishop had done in the past to warrant such attention, it was clear that he had not gotten around to telling anyone about it, including this woman he seemed to be so close with. Olivia waited for her turn to speak, and continued.

"Dr. Bishop, do you know about a man by the name of William Bell?"

A blink, an inhale, and the perfect tone of casual indifference, "No." Was what Philip told her true? Because Walter's bluff was flawless. She almost believed it herself.

Unlucky bastard indeed.

Olivia figured that she would have to go at this a different way, "Well, it appears that he seems to know you, Dr. Bishop. I was sent to find you."

"Why?" Walter questioned suspiciously.

Honesty may not have been her best policy, but it was the only one she had, right now. "I don't know. I was only sent here to find you, and bring you back to New York so you could meet with William Bell."

A small smile touched the side of Walter's mouth, and he chuckled, "And why on earth would I want to do something like that?" Walter sat back on the couch, sipping his coffee audibly through his front teeth to cement his point, "Going off with a strange woman to the beckon of some gent I've never met? Highly suspect, miss Dunham."

"I've shown you my credentials, Dr. Bishop," Olivia said calmly, suddenly missing her old ways of slamming transgressors onto car hoods and slapping them into cuffs. Charlie had always been the 'good cop', "I'm afraid that you don't have much of a choice, in the matter."

"I respectfully disagree," Walter replied, setting his empty cup onto the coffee table between them, "I have a right to know just what exactly warrants such attention to my person."

Damn. But she was certain that there had to be something she could use, to persuade him, and all at once, it clicked. Unlucky bastard, "Would you like to make a bet, Dr. Bishop?"

Walter glanced up at her, his eyes sharp with doubt, but bright with interest, "I beg your pardon?"

"A bet," Olivia continued calmly, casually sliding back in her seat and tugging her skirt back down her thigh, "The wager is you. If I win, you come back with me to face the music-" she glanced up at Astrid, who watched Walter's growing interest with concern, "-so to speak."

"And if I win?" Walter questioned. His eyes did not leave her face- both wore perfectly unreadable masks.

"What do you want?"

"I want a lot of things, miss Dunham. My finger, for one," he joked, holding up his gapped hand, "But I think what I would like from you is to be forgotten. If I win, you forget that I exist. For the record, Dr. Bishop is dead."

"I can do that," Olivia replied cooly.

"Walter," Astrid said uncertainly, speaking up at last as she touched his arm, "Don't do this, it's too sketchy. You're horrible with gambling, please don't do this…"

"I told you that I won, yesterday. I can win now."

"Look- I don't care what happened in the past, Walter, I really don't, but please, don't do this," her fingers gathered the fabric of his shirt, "please don't leave me."

Walter did not once look away from Olivia's face, and she knew she had him, "What's your game?" he questioned.

xXx

So this was all it came down to? A simple flutter? Too easy.

Astrid left the room. Walter was slightly glad- a girl at tableside was bad luck.

"Blackjack," Olivia answered simply, "twenty-one."

Walter hid his smile, "there's a deck there on the side table. You deal- and don't stack, I'll know."

Olivia shook her head, "One deck won't do," she answered, "counting a single deck is too easy. Four decks, at the least."

He didn't bother to tell her that he could count five, and only shrugged, standing to move to the nearby cabinetry and pull open a drawer, plucking out a few fresh decks and tossing them onto the table for her inspection. He didn't bother to watch as she shuffled and dealt, casually pouring himself another cup of coffee, "how many rounds?" he questioned into his drink.

"We're both busy people, Dr. Bishop. A single round."

He raised his eyebrows, stirring another spoonful of sugar into his already overly sweet coffee, "Would you like to wager some money?"

"You're gambling with enough already," Olivia answered with a smile. She dealt out two cards from the top of the deck. He immediately gained a face-up seven, and she an ace.

Walter looked at the back designs of his bottom card for a few moments, "have you ever gambled before, miss Dunham?" he questioned.

"I'm afraid I haven't. Beginner's luck?"

Walter smiled, and peeked under the corner of his bottom card- another seven. The odds were high that she had a face card. He watched her carefully as she had a look, her face flawlessly unchanging. Walter quietly tapped the table.

Another card flashed out- seven. Twenty-one. Walter looked up at Olivia, showing his match of numbers, and she hit her own sum of fourteen again, throwing an eight. Twenty-two.

"I would say that I'm sorry, miss Dunham, but I do feel as if you're getting the better end of the bet," Walter said calmly, gathering the cards back together, and straitening them into a pile on the tabletop, "whoever hired you to find me did not have your best interests at heart, I can assure you."

Olivia let out a small sigh of defeat, straitening her skirt, "Well, a bet is a bet, Dr. Bishop. I'm only glad I didn't put any money on it," she joked. She stood, and he stood with her, shaking her hand, "good game, Dr. Bishop I guess this is goodbye."

"It is. It was nice to meet you, miss Dunham." Walter could appreciate a good loser, as he himself was a poor one.

"Likewise. I'll see myself out." Olivia departed, and it was only after he heard the soft click of the door shutting that he let a grin spread across his face, and he fairly sprinted for the kitchen, where he knew Astrid was staying.

"I did it!" he exclaimed excitedly, "See?! I won! I told you that I-" he paused, and she continued to glare into the sink, "what?"

"Nothing."

Walter watched her for a few moments, and let out a sigh, hanging his head as he raised a hand to scratch the back of his neck, "…sorry?" he offered at last.

Astrid turned her glare on him, and he swallowed, "No, you aren't," she said lowly, "you're never sorry about anything, Walter."

"That's not true," Walter said. If there was one thing he had in his life more than failure, it was regret.

"I don't know what it is with you, Walter. You know, for the longest time, I didn't care about what brought you back to me- I didn't want to know, really. But- all of this, Walter? I don't know if what I know about you is even the truth. First September tells me you have a son, then some strange woman shows up with a warrant for your arrest and you're suddenly doctor Bishop?"

Walter shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping to the floor as he pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks guiltily.

"Who are you, Walter?" Astrid asked, searching his face. When Walter did not reply, she passed him and went back up the stairs, and he could hear her shutting the bedroom door behind herself.

"Someone you'd be better off without," he confessed to the emptiness of the kitchen.

xXx