Author's note: Woo-hoo! I wrote a chapter two. It's much shorter and from Paige's POV.

There's going to be a chapter three as well. I have a bad habit of turning one-shots into longer stories. My 1st ever Scorpion fanfic, Shell Shocked, was a short one shot I wrote based on previews of "Da Bomb" and which somehow transmogrified into a 20 chapter story and the 1st story of a trilogy. I don't think that's gonna happen here, but hey, who knows?

CHAPTER TWO

She felt like she'd just slammed into a brick wall.

Her stomach dropping to her feet, Paige stumbled as she walked into the restaurant and saw him. With her. Together and evidently out on a date.

She'd heard from Sylvester, who'd heard it from Patty, who in turn, had heard it from Allie, who had been told by Cabe there had been no hanky-panky between them since she'd left. That they weren't a couple. That they were nothing more than professional colleagues. Obviously someone had lied or they'd managed to keep their romance a secret from the rest of their team.

"If you'll come this way, ma'am, sir." The waitress's request startled her from her bitter thoughts. She still hadn't totally focused on where she was going until she saw the server was leading them to an empty table directly across from the other couple. Paige nearly tripped again as she stopped in her tracks.

"Oh, could we get a seat by the window?" she asked. "Is that table taken?" She pointed to a booth, which if she was gauging it right, would let her spy without been noticed. "If that's all right with you?" she said as she turned to her dinner companion who nodded.

Chad Colchester owned a chain of health spas in the Greater Los Angeles area and was looking for ways to beef up his security. He was typical of the men she'd met since starting her new business. Mid 40ish, not too bad looking despite a receding hairline with a bad combover, wearing too much cologne. . . Not that she was interested in him. . .or any of them for that matter.

It was all part of the wining and dining of clients she'd engaged in over the past few months. There were only so many private contracts out there, and Team Scorpion 2.0 or whatever they were calling themselves these days, were scooping up nearly half of them. Which didn't seem fair as they were still getting government funding Team Centipede wasn't. Guess it paid to have a federal agent in your pocket.

Plus there were at least a hundred different companies in the Greater Los Angeles area which provided the same services as hers did. But none of them had the reputation of Scorpion and its genius boss, Walter O'Brien.

Her company's early successes had made her overconfident. She rented a non-funky smelling suite of rooms in a modern office building in a good neighborhood. Had matching team shirts made up in a rainbow of colors. Splurged on posh office furnishings. Bought every electronic gadget she thought they needed and some they probably didn't. And now she was up to her ass in debt.

So far she'd been able to hide the precarious financial situation from her employees. Toby and Happy were still deep in debt as well due to their wedding and the fertility treatments. Paige had been deliberating taking less of a salary to pay them extra. She'd even dipped into the money her mother had left for Ralph's education. But the books still weren't balancing.

And speaking of Ralph. . . He hadn't totally reverted to his pre-Walter form, but . . . Oh, God, it was close. His grades were suffering, he only spoke when spoken to, he avoided looking her in the eye. And if he accidentally made contact, the sadness she saw was almost too much for her to bear. He was as miserable as she was.

After she and her future client were seated, she kept sneaking peeks across the room instead of listening to Chad, as he insisted she call him, drone on about himself. Walter looked tired and thinner than the last time she'd seen him, outside of Gettleman's office, where her then fledgling business swiped that contract right from under his nose. He was still as handsome as ever though. Shivers slid down her spine as she remembered the last time they'd been together, which seemed like yesterday yet also felt like years ago.

Glancing over at him again, she thought he looked irritated by whatever his 'date' was saying. Trouble in paradise? She knew she was being catty, but. . . Dammit, it still hurt. And what hurt the most were the horrible things she'd said to him. Because none of them were true. So, okay, he had quirks which bothered her, but nothing she couldn't deal with. She was no picnic herself.

She missed him so much.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she said as Chad cleared his throat. Her face grew warm at the thought she'd been caught not listening. "You were saying?"

"I was wondering about your team's ability to provide 24 hours surveillance while also protecting my members' privacy?"

"Oh." Paige rattled off the little speech she'd prepared listing just what services Team Centipede could provide. They talked business until their food arrived.

The first forkful of her salad hung in midair as she noticed Walter and Florence getting up from their table. It was painful to watch, but not for the reasons she thought it would be. It was obvious they were uncomfortable around each other, the way they would nearly touch then shy away. And their faces. Paige had seen less scary grimaces on jack-o'-lanterns.

Was it possible this was their first date? That they'd waited. . .had it really been over six months?. . .before going out? Did it mean Walter finally given up on her? She set her fork down, any appetite she had left fleeing. Oh, God.

She picked at her food for the rest of the meal. Chad insisted she order a dessert, his treat. "You've convinced me," he said, wearing a broad smile. "You. . .and your team. . .are just what I need."

"That's great," she replied with false enthusiasm. "I'll have the contract sent over first thing in the morning for you to sign."

He reached across the table and placed his hand on top of hers, rubbing his fingertips over her knuckles. "I've reserved us a hotel room," he announced, "so we can consummate our deal. I'm hoping you'll be too busy to do anything else first thing in the morning."

Her eyes were drawn to the gold wedding band on his left ring finger. Her stomach heaved as she snatched her hand away. "Are. . .are you. . .serious?" she stammered indignantly.

Chad looked confused. "You came highly recommended by Charlie Bennett." Paige had trouble placing the name until she remember he was the owner of several used car dealerships around town. Creepy little man, always trying to leer down her shirt. She shuddered.

"He told me how he'd sealed the deal with you after he agreed to hire your firm." Chad lowered his eyes, aiming them directly at the vee of her blouse.

"That's not true." She shook with anger. "He's a liar."

"It's all over town you put out for clients. Why do you think anyone is interested in Team Centipede? We could get better and less expensive security from Scorpion. But their owner's not my type." He laughed nastily.

Grabbing up her purse and sweater, she jumped up out of her chair. She hesitated for a moment, wanting to slap the smirk from Chad's slimy face but decided he wasn't worth it. He would probably have her arrested for assault. She hissed "Go to hell" instead before storming out of the restaurant.

It wasn't until she walked out on the sidewalk she remembered the bastard had picked her up and she didn't have a vehicle. "Shit." Saying the dirty word felt good. She let out a few more slip out, and they were just as satisfying. She took in several cleansing breaths before exhaling.

So Centipede was only getting clients was because everyone thought she was sleeping with them. That explained why several of her 'dinner companions' hadn't signed with the team. Wondering how a rumor like that even got started, another thought occurred to her. Oh, God, she needed to leave before Chad came out and found her dawdling outside the restaurant, thinking she had changed her mind.

Looking up one side of the street, then down the other, she wasn't sure which way to go. Then she heard footsteps behind her. Not turning around to see who it was, she headed off down the street.

ooooo

Ugh, her legs were tired. Her feet were killing her. And her flimsy sweater did little to ward off the nip of autumn in the night air. She'd walked several miles, no particular destination in mind, although she'd stayed on busy, well-lit streets.

Stopping and taking a good look at her surroundings, Paige realized the area was familiar. Too familiar. In fact, if she turned the next corner and traveled to the next block, she knew exactly where'd she be. At a place where she was no longer welcomed.

She slipped off her heels, the relief almost instantaneous as her bare feet met the cool concrete. She didn't even hesitate as she headed toward the garage. It was like she was being drawn there by one of those big magnets Walter always liked to talk about.

She noticed as she approached the run-down brick building there were no lights on inside. Staring upward, she wondered if Walter was up in his loft at that very moment, making love to Florence. Oh, God. . . Pain sliced through her, and she did her best not to throw up.

Glancing around as she tamped down her nausea, she didn't see his car. He might have parked inside, something he rarely did, however. They were probably still out, enjoying some nerdy entertainment. Something she'd once disdained, but now. . .

Her pride told her to just call for a ride and go home. . . But her pride had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She needed to swallow it if she ever wanted to be happy again. Sighing deeply, she move toward the door.

She punched in the entry code, which didn't work. Of course he'd changed it. Knowing she had only two more chances before a silent alarm was tripped, she cleared her mind, trying to guess what number combination Walter's genius brain would use.

The corner of her mouth twitched as she typed in another series of numbers and received a beep and a green light. Cautiously she stepped inside.

As her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she saw, other than the code, not a lot had changed. All the furniture remained in the same places. What used to be Happy's workstation was much neater though; tools put away in their proper places, no large pieces of rusty scrap metal lying about.

Stepping further inside, she came to a halt several feet away from the desk which used to be hers. All her mementos had been replaced with similar ones in a color palette that fairly screamed another woman was now sitting in her chair. There was even a vase of wilting roses in one corner.

A sob tore through her. Was Florence not only occupying her desk, but also her place in Walter's heart?

Spinning around as her eyes blurred, she then realized she was face to face with his workstation. Everything was the same, she noted as she circled around behind it. Paige gasped when she discovered the one thing which had changed. A picture of her, Walter, and Ralph taken at the beach, one which he'd proudly displayed, had been altered. It showed just him and her son now. She'd been erased.

Futilely wiping at her tears, cursing herself for being a masochist, she climbed the stairs to his loft. It, too, had remained the same. She shamelessly snooped around, not finding any evidence the blonde chemist had made herself at home. No makeup, no clothes, no feminine touches like the ones she'd once provided. Touches she noticed had now been removed.

Her legs trembled as she approached his bed, her heart pounding its way out of her chest. They'd spent their first night together there. Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she recalled how sweet he'd been, how nervous, how shy he'd been as he confessed he'd never been intimate with anyone before. Not that it made any difference. It had still been the most romantic, erotic night of her life.

He'd never answered her question the next morning, if it had been worth waiting three years for. That had bothered her until she realized he had answered it; with every kiss, every touch, every whispered "I love you." He'd waited a lot longer than three years. He'd waited his whole life for her.

And she'd tossed it all back in his face. Because she'd been jealous. And insecure. And if she was going to be honest with herself, a total bitch. She'd known deep down nothing had been going on between him and Florence. They'd forged a friendship, the same way he was friends with Happy. And God. . .he'd actually been married to Happy. She never even questioned if anything romantic had happened between them. She just knew it hadn't. She should have given him the same benefit of the doubt with the chemist.

Which brought up another interesting question - if Florence had been a man, would it have bothered her so much Walter had found a friend to connect with on an intellectual level? She bit her lip as she realized the answer was no. So, not only was she a jealous, insecure bitch, she was a sexist as well. Crap.

She jumped when she heard a rustling noise. Oh, God, had Walter come back? Then chittering accompanied the rustling and she realized it was Ferret Bueller. She located his cage, where the little critter stirred excitedly. She unlatched the door and lifted him out.

He wiggled happily as she held him against her chest, trying to burrow himself down her blouse. "You aren't the first guy to try to weasel his way into my shirt tonight," she said with a wry chuckle.

She carried him over to the couch and sat down, dropping her shoes on the floor. Tucking her legs up under her, she leaned back as she rumpled the ferret's fur.

"Did you miss me, little fella?" she asked, not expecting a response. She received one anyway as the ferret squeaked back at her. Holding him up so she could see his face, she continued, "I missed you." She pulled him to her chest where she let him squirm his way into her blouse. His little heart beat next to hers as he yawned.

"I miss him, too. I miss him so much." A whimper escaped her throat. "I should have never left him."

"Then why did you?"