A/N: Sorry, I uploaded this as new doc, but never actually added it to the STORY. :Face palms: Silly me. Thanks to my ff bestie, Masikka for alerting me!!!
Getting there! We're almost at the conclusion of this wild ride! How are we feeling? Ready? Sad? Broken and in need of industrial strength adhesives?
Xoxo
Feeling as though he was going cross eyed staring at his laptop screen, Walter rubbed his eyes. He should sleep. He knew that. He promised her he would. But he just… couldn't. She needed answers. The team had worked all afternoon and evening, pouring over police files, financial statements, trying to find security cameras from well over a decade ago… anything. It had been emotionally jarring for them all. He had skimmed the files and photos while they were in Fresno, just enough to learn the basics, while being discreet and hiding it from Paige, but, being able to openly explore it all was affecting him in ways he wasn't sure how to process. And he knew that if this, being separated from it all, was affecting him emotionally, of all people, he knew Paige was drowning inside.
Cabe was pulling every favor imaginable, and taking a bit of heat for investigating a simple car accident from nearly 15 years ago from the local PD, trying to find something they could use. He had, in between calls and threats to whomever was on the other line, pulled Walter aside to tell him how proud he was of him for fighting for and with Paige, how he was fully cooked now, and his willingness to lose everything for her had shown how far he had come. He had also may have called in a few favors with some old buddies he knew that worked the same security outlet in Jordan, to pay a… friendly… visit to Tim. But that tidbit of information would stay between just he and Walter.
Poetic justice that they would deny if ever questioned, for their girl.
Toby had hacked into the interview footage of Betty, trying to get some insights into her behavior. Had read through the police file, again trying to find any connection, being horror struck seeing the photos of Paige's father's bloodied body, being able to mentally perform the autopsy, identifying each injury, realizing that Paige had had to make the identification.
Happy, beating herself up nonstop over Drew's involvement, had set her sights on studying the crime scene photos and reports, while silently seeking ideas on how to make Drew's life absolute hell. With her skillset, she had been able to determine that short of a significant mechanical failure, that suddenly unfailed making the vehicle able to drive away without an issue, the accident had been no accident. Paul Dineen had been run down, the vehicle going from a full stop across the street, to floored acceleration directly into him at approximately 47mph, pinning him with great force and speed into the brick wall of the building, enough to break the wall, then had accelerated in reverse driving away. Making a 3D rendering recreation to show her findings, Sylvester had promptly thrown up his dinner.
Sly was tasked with financials, being able to speed read through them while simultaneously seeing abnormalities, and lumping like transactions together with ease. He had thanked Walter for allowing him to be engrossed in the numbers, and not bodies. But then, he had seen the payments made to Drew and Tim, and he had needed to take a break, his heart hurting for Ralph, drawing parallels to his own father's abandonment.
Everyone had struggled immensely. Everyone was desperate to solve the puzzle, everyone feared not solving it. Everyone feared Paige not getting the closure she needed.
Walter hated that she had taught him about closure, and humanity, and… love. It meant he couldn't ignore it, deny it, pretend everything were fine and carry on about his day.
He needed to solve this for her. As much as she were blaming herself, he was blaming himself for cracking open all of these old wounds, plus stabbing her with new ones, and pouring salt into them.
Zoning out in thoughts of her, their time together, his complicity, the image of her on the shower floor crying, of her running through the vineyard to escape it all, Walter was ready to smash things in frustration when he startled at the sound of his phone ringing in the echoing, now empty garage. Hoping it was her, but then equally not, especially given the extremely late hour, he grew anxious. He grabbed the device, and the name on the screen alarmed him immediately.
"Ralph? It's late. Are you okay?" He scrambled out, sitting straight up, concerned.
"Yeah, Walt. I'm… okay. I'm sorry to disturb you." Ralph's hushed voice rang through his ears.
Walter looked at the clock.
12:23 am.
"You can always call me, Ralph. I'm just glad you're okay… and your mother?"
"I… don't know. She's been acting… peculiar… all day, kept telling me how much she loves me, apologizing to me for things that… just didn't make sense, just being very… strange. And well, she's been crying in her room for the last two hours, looking at old photos. I don't know what's going on with her, but nothing I do is helping. She told me she's fine, and that she was just tired, but, she also said that my Gramma is back for a while, and for that to happen, for her to come out of hiding, something big must have happened…"
"Well…" He stopped, he had no idea how to answer any of Ralph's observations without either blatantly lying to him which made him uncomfortable, or informing him of things Paige didn't want him to know, which also made him uncomfortable. He was learning that while his relationship with Paige was very confusing, so would this new role with Ralph, being his friend and mentor, but also, to some degree filling a more fatherly role.
"She should be happy because you guys are together now, so for her to be sad isn't logical unless something else bad also happened. I wish she would tell me what's going on, but I also recognize that my mom has excellent mothering instincts, so I will respect her decision to do what she feels is best for me…"
"That's wise…"
"But… I also can't help her if I don't know. So I thought perhaps you could help her? The probability that you know what is going on is high, and therefore might know what to do. I just… really don't like seeing her like this, Walter." His pleading, helpless voice was almost more than he could handle.
"I know, bud. I don't either. You did the right thing. I'll be right over, see what I can do. But you need to get to bed, okay? You being up all night is not going to help her."
"That's… reasonable. I'll unlock the door. She's in her bedroom." There was a brief pause, and Walter could hear the boy shuffling. "And um, thanks Walter."
"Get some sleep, bud." With that, he ended the call, his mind rapidly firing with all the things she could be thinking, feeling, and all the things he could say, and yet, nothing seemed enough.
Grabbing his keys and opening his discarded luggage for something special, he raced out the door. Given the hour, and a few traffic laws being ignored, it only took a few minutes to get to her condo, securing a parking space right across from her unit, scrambling across the small lot, and up the stairs. It was dark sans the few street lights, and calmingly quiet, something he always noticed. For living in the city, she found the perfect area which was still quiet and subdued.
As promised, when he went to turn the knob of the front door, it was unlocked. Pushing the door open, he stepped in briefly looking around, before closing and locking it behind him. All was quiet, still, almost eerie. He felt a little uneasy, entering her home without her knowing. The thought of a neighbor calling the police on him as a possible home invasion also quickly entered his mind, but the muffled sound of her crying off the hallway ringing through the silence forced the thought away. Stepping lightly to avoid startling her, he moved through the living room, and into the hallway. Ralph's door was ajar, and he peeked in, opening it just a little wider. Ralph, with heavy eyes, looked over and smiled sleepily, waving to his mentor, a swirling of galaxy lights shining around the room.
"Thanks for coming, Walter. I'm really glad you and mom are dating now." His sleepy smile made Walter smile too.
He was glad, too.
"Sweet dreams, bud. I'll see you in the morning." Walter whispered, watching as Ralph's heavy lidded eyes closed and he turned over in his bed, sinking into its comfort, before pulling the door closed.
The sound of her crying, muffled, barely audible unless you were listening for it, again caught his attention and he moved down and across the hall to her closed bedroom door. Taking a moment to just stand there, he questioned if he was invading her privacy by being there. Invited by Ralph, sort of, but not by her. Relationships, he decided, were entirely too confusing. With a deep breath, he made quick work of turning the knob, and pushing the door open. The sight before him broke his circulatory muscle.
Paige, pulled tightly into a ball of herself, facing slightly away from him toward the windows, her body shaking with sobs. Photo albums, and small boxes of photos, strewn about the bed. By the look of it, she didn't hear him enter the room, had no mind space to even realize she wasn't alone. He felt very voyeuristic. The room was mostly dark, but the soft street light shining in from the window set a subtle spotlight on her small shaking frame, allowing the shadows as he moved to dance on the walls.
But she didn't seem to notice.
Slowly, but efficiently, he made his way across the room. Not wanting to scare her, he went around the foot of the bed, catching sight of her face in the dim glow of light cast on her. It was so pained, so tear laden, so exhausted in nature and heavy with turmoil. Her arms pulled in tight to her body, her legs pulled up to her chest, her eyes clenched tightly shut as she cried. A photo positioned, having fallen in her sobs just by her hands, of a young and gap toothed, beaming pig tailed Paige riding a pink bicycle without training wheels, and an equally jubilant and proud Paul Dineen holding up the training wheels triumphantly in the air.
"Paige?" He spoke so softly, and he hated how broken his own voice sounded, the fear for her wellbeing, the uncertainty he felt on being able to help her, the shakiness of his voice that mirrored her body, reflecting the pain he felt taking in the sight of her.
Her eyes shot open rapidly searching the room in an instant and she tensed, her body silencing, going rigid, processing his voice. Not scared. Just alarmed by his sudden presence in her bedroom.
He was quick to move to her side, crouching down on the side of the bed beside her, his hand stroking her hair and her forehead gingerly. But she sat up, a look of panic, shame, embarrassment, even perplexity plastered to her features.
"Walter… what… wh-what are you doing here? How did you get in here?" She was confused. So confused. In her agony, her memory lane self torment, she was certain she had not called Walter. She was also certain she had locked the door. Had something happened? Had he found something out with the team? Was he here to break the news in person?
"I'm sorry. In hindsight, I should have spoken to you first. Ralph called me. He was concerned about you. I didn't think, I just… rushed over."
Paige rubbed at her tired, forlorn face, her red and puffy eyes, wiping away the wetness that had taken up residence on her cheeks, and then looked back to her bedroom door and beyond to Ralph's room across the hall, guilt penetrating her soul.
"I'm... I'm… Oh God, I'm so sorry, Walter. He… shouldn't have done that. I'm… fine. Really…" She was not fine. She knew he also knew she was not fine. She was embarrassed. Walter had had his fair share of her falling apart the last couple of days. She had certainly met her lifetime quota with him. Especially with Walter, who struggled with basic emotion, nevermind deep seeded turmoil. The last thing she wanted was to burden him further, or have Ralph take advantage of their new relationship to do so on her behalf.
"No, Paige… you're not fine. And that's okay. I'm glad Ralph called me. I always want him to call me if he is concerned." Trying to stifle her tears, she nodded, looking down to her hands. "I, uh, brought you something." He stood, taking his mystery item in the darkness and draping it over her shoulders.
"Our blanket…? Oh Walter… wait… you like took it, took it?" She clutched at the hem of the blanket, pulling it tight around her as she choked out a laugh, letting the power of its memories coat her in comfort like a warm embrace. And the knowledge that Walter's sticky fingers were apparently transcendent to sentimental value struck something in her.
"Well, it didn't seem right to put it back. Thought it might come in handy… But, uh, don't worry, I ordered a replacement and it is shipping to the Inn. Should be there Wednesday." He offered sheepishly with a shrug. Just the facts.
"Thank you. Best thievery ever." She whispered as he sat beside her, and she let her small hand slip into his affectionately, and her head tiredly fell to his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck. His own head turned toward her to breathe in her hair, laying a gentle kiss there.
"I wish I could make this easier for you, Paige." His voice was laden with guilt and disappointment, and she squeezed his hand at his words, speaking softly into the dark night.
"You are. I know you may not realize it, but you are, Walter. You really are."
"Ralph said you'd been crying, and acting odd. He's uh… worried about you." The cracking of his voice betrayed him on just how worried Ralph's call had made him.
"I was trying so hard not to act odd all day. I guess that… backfired." She paused as he wrapped his arm around her back, his hand resting on her upper arm, pulling her close. "After he went to bed, I started looking at some old photos of my dad, Betty… I guess I got… carried away."
"You went down the rabbit hole." So matter of fact. No judgment. Just an observation.
She let out a humored breath, snuggling in closer to his side, and nodded.
"Yeah, I guess I did. After making you promise that you wouldn't. I guess that also backfired. I'm sorry."
"Don't be. I think, given the circumstances, that is reasonable, expected even. But, I am concerned that you need sleep… you uh, didn't exactly sleep much all weekend." He playfully nudged her with a light laugh, making her echo his suggestive tone as she smirked up at him. "Do you want to… talk? Um, about the crying? Or the uh, photos?"
"No… I don't think so. Not yet. Maybe when there's actually answers. Right now I would just be talking in circles. Very… inefficient." Truth was, she never wanted to speak of any of it again. She wanted to forget. Cast it all into the far reaches of her mind, brick it all off in an impenetrable corner, and act as though nothing had happened. That was why she was crying. Because every attempt all day to forget, had only served as a stark reminder instead.
Another backfire.
"Okay."
"Thank you, though. And for coming. You really didn't have to do that, Walter. I don't want you feeling obligated to come save me. That's not fair to you, or healthy in a relationship."
"I'm not here out of obligation, Paige. I'm here because I care for you, and for Ralph. I'm not going to leave you alone while you're hurting. I believe you once said how relationships require maintenance to be successful. That was good advice." She smiled at his impeccable memory as it pertained to her. "How about I help you clean this up and get you to bed. You need rest."
"Yeah…" Fiddling with the hem of the blanket, afraid to look at him, she nervously spoke. "Walter… um, will you… um… would you…" She paused, running her hand through her hair frustratingly. "Would you… stay? Here? Um, with me… I mean… for the night? I just… um, well, you have a weird calming effect on me, Walter. I don't know what it is, how to explain it. You just… make me feel safe? It's like I'm losing my mind and you ground me."
He smiled, pulling her close, kissing her head.
"Of course."
Taking a moment just to hold her close, he eventually extricated himself from her hold, and began collecting the various photos on the bed. Paige reluctantly turned, doing the same, actively avoiding looking too close at them. He, himself, was trying not to become emotionally charged seeing the photos of a young Paige with her father, her cousins, her… Betty.
Paige reached for the opened album on the other side of the bed, sliding it over, and it caught Walter's eye. Just as she was about to close it, his arm reached over, his hand aggressively grabbing her arm, forcibly stopping her motion, startling her a bit, giving her no choice but to open it back up.
"Walter?"
He didn't speak, just released her wrist while grabbing the book, holding it up to the light, and then removing a photo from the plastic sheeting overlay covering it.
A candid photo of a teenage Paige, what he was sure was Julia and a few others of the Thompson female cousins he'd met, including Sasha. Six young women, all wearing pretty sundresses outside in a yard he didn't recognize.
"Paige, when was this taken?"
"Walter, what it is?"
"Paige, please, when was this photo taken?"
She grabbed the photo from his outstretched hand, looking it over, trying to remember.
"It was a high school graduation party for Liza, I think. So… I don't know… maybe June 2001… 2002? No, it would have been 2003. She's two years older than me, but stayed back in the first grade." Handing it back to Walter, she grew weary at the look on his face. "Walter, what is it? It's just a photo of us as teenagers. What's going on?"
"I need your laptop." He frantically looked around searching for it, his body and head spinning like a dog chasing its own tail. Under different circumstances, she would have laughed at the sight.
Her panic rose, but she stood.
"Yeah, okay. Alright. Yeah. It's uh, in the kitchen, I think… Ralph was showing me his AI program. But what is this abo--"
"Grab those." He pointed to the photos on her bed, cutting her off, before rushing out of the room on a mission.
"Sure honey, nice talking to you…" She muttered to the empty room, doing as he said.. She collected the photos, and just a minute later found him seated at the kitchen table with her laptop open to some program she wasn't familiar with.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on? Cause you're kind of scaring me here, Walt." Placing the photos down on the table, she turned on the light above the sink to give some illumination without blinding them.
His fingers stopped and he turned to her, recognizing that his mission oriented self would need to adjust to someone being emotionally involved, and being in a partnership relationship.
"I'm… sorry. I uh, here. Sit." He pulled out the chair beside him, and as she sat he handed her the photograph that had started him on this journey. "Before Ralph called, I was reviewing the police files for your father's death. Which… were limited. At best. I was trying to find some evidence, connection…"
"Okay… And did you?" She wasn't sure she wanted the answer.
"No." Her stomach dropped, maybe she did. "Well, at least not really."
"Walter, you're really confusing me." Brushing off her comment, he pulled up the files, including the photos of Paul Dineen's battered body, depicting the injuries he sustained, taken from his autopsy record. His dead, butchered body on full digital display.
"Okay, so--"
"Oh my god! Is that…? I'm gonna be…" Her hand gripped her mouth, she stood in a frenzy and immediately ran to the sink, vomiting violently, her shoulders heaving as she emptied the contents of her stomach, flipping on the faucet.
"Oh Paige, I'm so sorry. I am so sorry." He rushed to her side rubbing her back, holding her hair. "I… wasn't thinking. I…"
He really sucked at this.
She was visibly upset, as she took a cloth and wiped her mouth, filling a cup from the dish rack next to the sink, filling it from the running tap, and taking a sip of water to rinse her mouth, before turning angered eyes back at Walter.
"Walter, what the hell! Why would you do that! Why do you even have those photos?! Why would you show me that?! That's my dad, Walter! My dad! Not some damn science experiment!" Her eyes were clouded in fresh tears, and her body felt so weak, so broken, so desperate to crumble. She was angry, but not at him. Walter didn't have a malicious bone in his body, she knew that. A careless one, sure. A do-first-think-later bone, absolutely. But never malicious. But it didn't change the fact that her blood had run as cold as her dead father's at seeing that image. That the overwhelming anger from everything that had transpired over the last couple of days, and the traumatic memories that photo brought, were now bubbling to the surface.
"I know. I'm so sorry, Paige. Really. I wasn't thinking beyond trying… to explain. In this instance, efficiency was the wrong decision, and I regret that terribly." To say he was afraid she would break up with him in that moment would be an understatement. "I don't know what else to say, other than I am sorry and there's no excuse." His attempts at helping, as they so often did when it came to her, had only served to hurt her more.
Another backfire.
She stood by the sink, silent for entirely too long, thinking, staring at the floor, unmoving, and making him very, very nervous.
Finally, in what he wasn't sure would be a good thing or not, she spoke.
"Walter, I know you're trying to help, and that means so much, but, you can't… you can't just put photos of my dead father on a morgue slab, bloody and beaten, on display without at least warning me. You need to communicate your thoughts first, okay? I need you to communicate first, do second. This isn't a faceless case, where we talk numbers and science and statistics, Walter. This is my dad. It's me. It's Ralph. Not statistics. My dad. And how he looks in that photo is how he looked when I had to walk into that room and watch my entire world fall apart, my entire life shatter. It's not just a picture of whatever you were trying to point out… it's the most painful moment of my entire life, Walter. Do you understand that?"
"I do understand… now. I am so sorry, Paige." She nodded in forgiveness, and sighed. She was so tired. Her legs would surely fail her soon.
"Please tell me, clearly, no genius talk… what you need me to see. I will try to look at things analytically like you do, but I need specifics on what I'm looking at so I'm not just seeing my dad, dead, on a slab. Okay? Can you do that?"
"Um, yeah, of course. Paige, are you sure…?"
"No, but, yes. Just… tell me."
He nodded, uncertain, but trying to take her lead.
"Okay, um, well, it's just that, when I was reviewing… the uh, autopsy photos… of… the uh, body…" He was trying so hard to keep it factual and not emotional, but knew he was missing the mark on how to handle this by miles. "...I noticed some, uh, bruising… left from the uh… motor vehicle that struck… the body. It's also noted multiple times in the coroner's report." Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to just not react to Walter's blatant avoidance of his usual genius babble while typically bluntly stating the facts, feelings be damned.
He sucked at it.
"He was hit… by a car Walter… I mean, bruising is expected..." Maybe he needed his genius babble to make sense. She was getting a headache.
"Yes, uh, that's… accurate. It is expected. However, this bruising was… precise." His hand brushed through his hair, as he motioned toward the computer to show her the photo, seeking permission. "May I show you? Um, I could zoom in, perhaps, so that you don't see… the uh, full… um, decedent." Taking a deep breath, she nodded, coming to sit beside him at the computer, clenching her eyes shut as he pulled up the photo again, and did as he offered, framing it so only the bruising was showing. Taking her hand, he squeezed it, offering reassurance. "Okay." She opened her eyes, wet, and pained, fearsome, and unready, but attempting to be brave. "Are you okay? Is this…?"
The amount of trepidation he felt as he looked from her weary eyes to the laptop screen and back, was enough to make the air around his throat feel like a noose.
"Just… show me."
"Okay. Um, well, if you look here…" He pointed to the screen, at the purple discolorations, using his hand to try and cover the part of the image where blood was showing. "It's very clear impressions of an X and an 8, you see?" He traced the outline of the digits with his finger. The bruising was distinct, yet subtle as it melded to the extensive bruising all over, but if you knew what you were looking for, it was easy to observe the deeper colored markings. "And then the start of a third numeral… harder to see in this photo, but, uh, I am reluctant to pull the other one up. It's… not something you need to see right now." Her eyes didnt leave the screen, and she nodded both in understanding, and in appreciation for his recognizing that. "The coroner noted the last impression as being most consistent with an N or M, which, I concur with…"
"A license plate..." She mused, leaning closer to the screen, letting her finger soberly trace over the purple markings, just as he had.
"Precisely. But, interestingly, nowhere in the police file was a license plate, or this bruising, mentioned. Ever. According to the file, no plates were even run. Quite frankly, they stopped investigating as soon as the coroner took the body. There was no follow up." His frustration, and even fury, was evident, and in some bizarre way that didn't make any sense to her, she found it relieving. As though Walter being emotionally invested somehow made her not only feel validated in her own feelings, but also, gave her a sense of hope, because Walter invested in a problem meant that problem would have every stone unturned seeking a resolution.
"That's ridiculous. Why wouldn't they run the plate number? Seems like that would be an automatic thing to do. I don't get it." Shaking her head, she ran her hand through her hair, trying to will such a careless oversight to make sense. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when he exited out of the photo on the screen, turning his full attention back to her.
"Right before Ralph called me, I made a mental note to look into just that with Cabe tomorrow morning. I assumed someone just didn't write up the report. The whole case file screams lazy, half assed work. Cabe's calls today trying to get cooperation from that county were disastrous, he spent hours, and got nothing from it. They came across as very disorganized."
"I don't remember anyone, besides the officer that came to get me. John Haynes. He uh, held my hand as I made the identification."
"Yes, his name is all over the records. Along with a few others. The files we're working from are also the digitized files, so it's also possible that a report about running the plate wasn't scanned with the rest."
"Okay, I guess that would make sense… but why are you talking about it now? What does this have to do with a graduation party that was fifteen years ago? My dad was there, he was at that party. He was still alive, I have a picture of him from that day." She began flipping through the album searching, when his hand stopped her.
"It's not the party that caught my attention. Look at the photo, Paige. What do you see?"
He handed her the picture, his face serious, and watched her scan it over, her face scrunching up a bit, then her brows raising with distaste.
"I see… that I severely over plucked my eyebrows… that I did not at all pull off the chunky highlighted choppy cut look at all... that I had terrible taste in clothing… and that I looked extremely uncomfortable with my cousins..." She mused with a humored smirk, handing the photo out to him expectantly. "Again, though, I'm not following."
"Look Paige. Not at the people." He studied her face, and it only took a moment before her eyes grew wide, and she moved the photo closer to her face to inspect.
"Oh my god." She squeaked, her hand coming up to cover her mouth and he worried she would vomit again, tears pooling in her eyes. "Walter… L9 X8M 42… X8M. "
" That's what I saw. Not your… uh, eyebrows."
"How did you see that? In the dark?" She spoke mostly to herself. She didn't need an answer, he was Walter. Couldn't tell she was in love with him for three years, but could spot…that.
"Whose car is that, Paige?"
"I, I… I don't… I don't know. I don't remember. This party was at Harold's house. There were hundreds of people there, Walter. I wasn't even really close with any of them at that point." A moment passed, her eyes rapidly moving as she fought her mind for the memories of the day. "Oh!" She started flipping maniacally through the album, and stacks of photos, tossing them about, searching for something. "Where is it… where is it!" Finally, in the third box, she took a photo, holding it to the light. "Yes!" Handing the photo to Walter, she pointed to the two figures in the background.
"Is that…?" A closer look showed the figures to be two women, younger versions of Veronica and Betty, in what appeared to be a heated exchange, arms outstretched and vitriol spread across their faces.
"Yup, that's Betty and that's my mom. They got into a huge argument that day. Papa, Harold and my dad had to break it up. My dad made us leave right after, said I didn't need to be there for that."
"He was trying to protect you." She nodded.
"My mom had just gotten out of jail… again. Things with us were very… tense, rocky. We barely spoke. But, as was the situation every time she was released, she asked my dad and I at the party if she could come home, be with us again, be a family. Made all the promises of changing... I saw right through her, so I just ignored her, refused to give her the time of day. I wanted nothing to do with her. Begged my dad to not listen to her, not give in. But, my dad… he was so in love with her, Walter. He could never move on from her. Never say no to her. He worshiped the ground she walked on. The sun rose and set for her."
"The effect of the Dineen women, I'm intimately familiar, yes." She smiled at him with raised brows at his tender confession, redness gracing her cheeks. "What? I… can simply understand his plight, is all. Go on." Squeezing his hand, she shook her head playfully at him.
"Well, my dad of course said she could come home, that they'd get dinner or whatever to discuss it or something… I don't remember it exactly, just being so angry that he was letting her come back again. But… then, she and Nana got into this big blow out, I mean full blown screaming match, Walter. Everyone watching… like at the Inn. I was taking this picture with Derek when it broke out. I've always hated this picture because it reminded me of yet another time my mom caused a problem. Anyway, Nana was scolding her about how she was throwing her life away, making another mistake, how she was a mess, and they could help her. At the time I thought it was in reference to her con life, I even related to Nana over it, made comments agreeing with her, felt like she was standing up for me… I appreciated it, but now…"
"Betty meant Veronica was ruining her life by going back to you and your father." Sadly, he finished for her.
"I had never seen them fight before, Walter. Nana was always harsh, intimidating, but I had never heard her yell like that. Had never seen my dad yell, not once in my entire life. He was such a quiet, reserved man. But he intervened after a few minutes with Harold and Papa, and Betty started yelling at him. I was so angry with him for agreeing to let my mom come home, I didn't even think twice about what Nana said to him until now…" Her brows pulled tightly together, her eyes looking off distantly, remembering. Looking up to lock eyes with Walter, tears pooled. "Walter… She said 'you'll regret this, Paul. You'll regret taking her again.'"
"Paige…"
"I thought she meant he'd regret having her back. Exactly what I had been thinking… Walter… he'd regret 'taking her again.' If she meant…" She swallowed hard, unable to swallow past the knot in her throat, and that feeling like she was going to be sick again.
"Paige, we need to call Cabe."
"Walter, it's like 1:30 in the morning..." She didn't look at him, just stared at the first photo that had sent Walter into a tizzy, the black sedan parked in the distance just between her and Julia's heads, it's California license plate, while grainy, plain as day to see.
L9 X8M 42
"Paige, how long have you been waiting for answers to what happened to your father that night? You have the first solid lead you've ever had. Do you really want to wait until tomorrow?" Spread on the table from her haphazard search, were dozens of photos of her late father. So happy, so vibrant, so full of life. A life cut short. A life ended without a goodbye. She looked up and made desperate eye contact with Walter, fighting her nature to put others first.
"Yeah… yeah, call him. You're right. Call Cabe."
As Walter spoke to Cabe on the phone, Paige clung to a photo of her and her dad in her hands, the last one ever taken of them together from Christmas right before he was killed. Paul attempted to make a duck face and peace sign to try and mesh with the teenage lifestyle, meet her at her level, and a young Paige laughing with second hand embarrassment. If she stayed very still, very quiet, she could almost hear the laughter from that day. Staring out the large bay window of her dining room, watching the start of rain sprinkling down on the ground outside, she couldn't help but feel like the heavens themselves were in tune with her shattered heart riddled with bullets of betrayal.
Taking a peek at Walter who was anxiously and a bit impatiently, discussing things with Cabe, she slipped out the door and outside, needing everything to be still, silent, and hear that laughter in her soul. Needed to allow the rain, which was becoming heavier and heavier by the minute, to soak her and dilute her salty tears, rendering them lost to the puddles. Staring up to the sky as it cried along with her, she spoke.
"I'm so sorry, Dad. It was all my fault. It was because of me. If I had just put my anger aside that day at the party, maybe I could have heard what she said for what she meant. Could have stopped her. If I had ever just looked at those photos… maybe I could have gotten justice for you. Saved Ralph from being hurt by her too. I'm just so sorry, Dad." Sobs wracked her small frame, and she lowered herself to the ground, laying flat on her back on the wet pavement, her flannel pajama pants and tank top instantly saturating with the sky's tears, as she lay staring up at the treacherous skies above, feeling each raindrop as it pelted her skin, and echoed with a pinging sound off the cars and mailboxes around her.
Eyes closed, arms and legs outstretched on the pavement of the road, looking lifeless, was how he found her ten minutes later. The wetness of her shirt clinging to her upper body gave him comfort, as it allowed him to see she was breathing, and not dead. Relieved, he moved to her, feeling the rain soak through his shoes into his socks as he waded through a puddle, wiping the water from his face to see her properly. She didn't open her eyes as he approached, and he lowered himself to mirror her position right next to her.
"I told you I'd need to invest in more towels."
"The rain calms me. I know it's not logical." He briefed a look at her, but she hadn't moved, hadn't opened her eyes, and he smiled, both at the sight of her, sopping wet, and yet, an aire of contentment about her, and at how she always recognized his need for logic, yet somehow always defying it.
"Well, actually, it is logical. The sound of rain hitting surfaces creates a consistent, set frequency, which is similar to white noise. Which has been scientifically proven to be soothing. It actually signals to the brain that it doesn't need as much sensory input, which can help calm people down when they are anxious, overwhelmed, overstimulated." He offered into the air, feeling her wet hand slip into his as he did, making him smile. He may have mucked things up a bit with the morgue photos, and fumbling on how to discuss that, but on this, he was happy to know he could offer some Paige level reassurances at his Walter level scientific reasoning. He liked when they could collide their worlds to make sense of it together. Perhaps they weren't even on different worlds, but rather looking at the same one, just from different sides. And yet, when they could find that common ground, they saw the whole thing in all its glory, uniting them. "It can also make the air feel fresher and cleaner, and can increase the amount of negative ions in the air, which can have a calming effect."
"What else?"
"Oh. Um, well rain can make it easier to stay cool and relaxed, which can help people sleep better. As well as cause lower air pressure, which can trigger the human body to release more melatonin, the hormone that makes one feel drowsy."
"I didn't know that. It just gives me peace of mind, I guess."
"You're a pluviophile." He declared proudly, and her face snapped to his in shock.
"What? Did you call me a pedophile?"
"What?! No! A Pluviophile." Her eyes told him that he would need to elaborate. "It means a person who finds peace of mind, joy, comfort in a rainy day. Lover of rain. You are a pluviophile."
"And here I thought I just liked that the sky was crying with me."
"Well, poetically speaking, that also… uh, applies."
A long silence fell between them, before she spoke, her eyes again sealed tightly shut as droplets continued to crash down on her, her hand gripping his with enough force that betrayed the stoicism of her voice.
"It's hers, isn't it? The car in the photo is Betty's, right?"
"Paige…"
"It's okay, Walter… I'm okay."
He knew she wasn't okay, but he couldn't lie to her. She needed the answers.
"The car was registered to her foundation from 1999 until it was donated to a charity right after your dad's death. Cabe is trying to get any donation records or photographs. Sly is going to see if there are any driver logs. But, it being at that party would suggest it was used as a personal car by Betty. I'm so sorry, Paige. I had hoped…"
"I know. Me too. But uh, I wanted the answers, right? When you want answers, you have to be okay with getting them. No matter what they are. She killed him. My grandmother killed my father, because of me. I think I knew it the moment Katherine said the date. I just… knew."
"Cabe is calling Katherine now, they're officially reopening his case as a Homeland case, investigating it as… as a homicide. Cabe said they'll be looking into everyone that was involved in the initial investigation. But Paige, it's not your fa--"
"I just want to lay here for a while longer, okay?" She said through silent tears, opening her eyes to stare up at each droplet that assaulted her body, feeling each hit like little water blades into her soul.
"Whatever you need." So, hand in hand, they laid, stretched out on the pavement at 2:00 am, in the downpouring rain, together, letting the rain wash away the images consuming them both.