The comments on this story have been so interesting. People seem pretty split on whether it's Paige or Walter that needs to change, so obviously this fic can't and won't satisfy everyone. I personally think they both have a lot to work out, and if they want to be together, they're going to have to meet each other halfway. (And know that just because I write a character's dialogue/inner monologue a certain way doesn't mean that I always agree with that sentiment—it's all in service of the plot and trying to keep true to the characters as they're presented in the show.)

This chapter sort of took a random turn, but who doesn't love protective Walter O'Brien? It'll lead into more discussion in the next chapter. Please continue to leave your thoughts, and thank you for the encouragement thus far. I do love writing for you all. ;)

Cabe's timing was…less than impeccable.

The agent threw frequent glances to Walter in the rearview mirror, eyebrow raised, painfully aware of the tension that had infected the SUV. Paige didn't say a word on the hour-long ride back, and Cabe eventually gave up, cranking his radio to drown out the silence.

He declined to come into the garage, making up a thin excuse that Walter knew was just to give him and Paige some privacy. The genius shot Cabe an appreciative look before the agent peeled out of the alleyway. Toby, Happy, and Sylvester were at a Chinese restaurant down the street and the office was quiet, eerily so, as Paige's words rattled around in Walter's mind.

You rejected me.

When she started dating the trainee, it almost seemed inevitable. Inevitable that she would find someone like Tim—successful, handsome, emotionally healthy—who would give her everything Walter couldn't. Inevitable that she would achieve happiness with a man better equipped for romantic relationships.

He'd sabotaged himself and sabotaged her, and maybe his low EQ was partially responsible. But maybe Paige was right, too, and it was a symptom of something else, of this fear that no matter what he did or how intensely he felt for her, she might never choose him. That she might not have a reason to choose him, not when there would be a thousand better opportunities.

But what she'd said today, combined with the hurt he recognized in her features…maybe he was wrong.

Paige spun around suddenly, startling him, and Walter hadn't realized how closely he was following her to her desk. He knew she was only there to retrieve her purse and scrambled to find some way to resume their conversation before she left again.

"I'm taking a few days off," Paige said quietly, her eyes falling just over his shoulder because of their proximity. It was an objectively awkward position but he couldn't compel himself to move away, not when she was close enough that he could pull her against him and kiss her before her next words passed her lips. He was so distracted by the prospect that her statement took a moment to register. "If Homeland asks for our help, I'll come in."

His jaw clenched, a familiar dread washing over him at the prospect of spending time away from her. He'd just been trying to help and it still wasn't right, he brought up Tim and upset her, or overwhelmed her, and now she was distancing herself from him again. "Paige, I think we need to—."

"I know. I promise we will." She bit the inside of her lip, leaning back just enough to look up at him. "We can talk when I get back, but I just…I need to think first. Please."

Walter couldn't read her expression, but there was a current of uncertainty in her voice that shot straight through him and he nodded, desperate not to argue with her anymore. "Okay."

The genius didn't sleep that night. Or the next. When they finally did catch a case, three days later, Walter almost broke his phone in his haste to call her.


She didn't take pride or pleasure in hurting Walter.

It didn't seem to stop her, though. For everyone's benefit, Paige had been determined to repair her relationship with the genius. And then all it would take was a word, a trigger, a wound that hadn't healed, and both of them would shut down, right back at square one.

Disappearing wasn't an act of anger. If anything, she was mortified. Walter was hardly the first man to hurt her, but she'd never admitted as much. Even after Drew abandoned them, when she was screaming at him for being an irresponsible coward, Paige refused to bring her own pain into it. But amid all the tension and frustration, realizing that Walter still had no idea how he'd affected her, it just slipped out, and there was no taking it back.

She respected him, the things he did in the field, his willingness to sacrifice himself for people he'd never even met. She was grateful for the second chance he gave her and Ralph. And she cared about him, deeply, as a friend, as a partner, as someone whose life was inextricably linked to hers. But he'd broken her heart and then stopped her from moving on, and if it was selfish and petty to hold on to that when it was clearly affecting other aspects of their relationship, well, she couldn't help it. She was human and it stung.

She thought the time off would help clear her head, refresh her perspective, but she felt more restless than anything. The few hours a day she spent with Ralph were great—she had doubled down on communicating with him and showing interest in his projects, with positive results—but when he was in school, or with friends, or holed up in his bedroom, the quiet annoyed her. Sometimes she forgot how much she'd grown accustomed to the chaos of the garage.

Cabe reached out, briefly, to ensure that the two of them were alright. The only other communication she received had been a surprise, as Tim e-mailed her to say hello and seek permission to stay in touch with Ralph. She granted it, trusting the young genius to set whatever boundaries he was comfortable with for that relationship. Even if Tim wasn't the right man for her, he'd always treated her son well, and she didn't see any harm in Ralph having a variety of influences in his life.

But that wasn't the voice she kept hoping to hear every time her phone buzzed, the face she kept wishing would be on the side of the door, and it was patently ridiculous to fixate on that when Walter was only complying with her request for space. If she wanted him there, she could ask and he would drop everything.

It was that simple, and yet it wasn't, it hadn't been for months.

Paige would have to return to work soon—she shuddered to think about the full inbox that awaited her—but things were going to be different now. There was no way she hadn't changed the dynamic of their relationship with her confession. He would have questions that she just wasn't sure how to answer.

When his name popped up on her caller ID around noon, Paige braced herself.

At least there would be a case to break the tension.


"Walter." She'd never heard her own voice like this, a grating high-pitched whine. "God, it hurts."

"I know. Paige, I know. Just breathe."

His voice was shaky, shakier than hers even though she was the one with the injury. Paige shut her eyes and focused on inhaling and exhaling steadily as Walter examined her shoulder. The light pressure he applied forced a sharp sound from her and he stiffened.

"It's just a dislocation. We can wait for medical attention but you'll be in a lot less pain if I pop it back in now. Paige, look at me." She complied, gritting her teeth as she tried to focus on him instead of her pulsing arm, which was decidedly not where it was supposed to be. "There are risks to me doing it myself but I can. I used to do it for Megan all the time. B-But only if you trust me to."

Paige could tell when Walter was putting on a brave face and he was now, controlling his features even as she saw the doubt pooling in his gaze. It wasn't a lack of confidence in his ability—if he'd done this before, the knowledge was still stored safely in his brain. It was her. He wasn't certain she trusted him to protect her anymore.

But not once had Walter O'Brien ever let her come to physical harm, and if he thought there was a chance now, he would never risk it. She nodded.

"Okay." He scooted to the side to make room. "Lay down."

Walter supported her with one hand and she winced as her back made contact with the cold concrete floor. This was not how she thought this day was going to go.

His fingers clasped around her left wrist. "Your arm needs to be at a ninety-degree angle, so—."

"Damn it, Walter," she growled to interrupt him. Nausea was already wracking her stomach and somehow she was sure that anticipating every move would make it worse. "I'm fine. Just do it."

"Oh, uh, okay." The genius maneuvered her injured arm into place away from her body and pulled, slowly but firmly, leaning back a few inches for traction. There was a loud clunk when her shoulder slid back into its socket and Paige whimpered as the roaring pain faded into a more manageable dull throb. He scrambled to his knees, hovering over her, nothing but concern in his eyes now. "How does it feel?"

"Better. Better." The palm on her undamaged side dropped over her face and she concentrated on bringing her ragged breathing under control as stars floated behind her closed eyelids.

"We can't stay here. Other sections of the building might be unstable." Paige felt his hands slide beneath her shoulder blades and realized he'd moved to crouch by her head. She allowed him to guide her upward, to a seated position, and fumbled to support herself on her good arm as Walter shrugged out of his blue button-down and draped it over the injury, knotting it strategically to create a makeshift sling. "Keep your arm as immobile as possible. It's the best we can do until you see a doctor."

Without the pain, Paige could think clearly again and that clarity was accompanied by a surge of panic. She grabbed for Walter, her fingers curling around the first thing they came into contact with, his undershirt. "What about you? Are you hurt?"

She'd shoved him out of the way when a chunk of concrete fell from the stadium's third-floor ceiling before losing her balance and plummeting down a flight of stairs. Walter had sprinted toward her more quickly than she thought any human was capable of moving, but that didn't mean he wasn't hiding his own wounds from her.

The genius's eyes flashed and it wasn't difficult to read the guilt. "Just a few abrasions. I'm fine," he answered tersely, snaking an arm around her and helping her to her feet. "Let's go. I don't want to put you at any more risk."

She nearly rolled her eyes at his petulant tone. He couldn't logically blame himself for the circumstances, but he would find a way.

"Oh God," she gasped. Her ankle gave out as soon as she stood on it and she stumbled, clutching Walter's shoulder at the same time his other arm joined the first to steady her. Paige held onto him for support as she straightened up, trying to distribute her weight evenly. It would hurt, but she could walk. "I'm okay. We just have to go slow."

Walter nodded and eased one of her arms around his shoulders, behind his neck, before tightening his grip on her waist. It helped that they were nearly the same height and neither had to stretch too far to reach the other. Every bruise and ache was making itself known now, no longer drowned out by the pain of her shoulder, and she found herself leaning harder against him as a wave of dizziness crashed into her.

He was bearing too much of her weight, he wouldn't make it to the entrance supporting her like this, he would have to leave her there and bring back help, she didn't want him to leave her, what if something happened to him or to her while they were separated, what if…?

Walter flexed his fingers into her side, a silent reassurance that he had her, like he could hear her racing thoughts. Paige tilted her head to look at him, the intensity with which he met her eyes making her lightheaded in an entirely different way.

She swallowed. "Thank you."