Secrets Breed Mistrust

by CERVN12

AU: Post 3x03: What if Walter did the Walter logical thing and hacks the footage of his trip to space and saw everything that happened!

19. What We Don't Say

A/N: Okay, this is an INSANELY long chapter. I'm very sorry. I guess I could have split it into multiple smaller chapters, but I don't know. If it's too much, let me know, and I will break it up. There's one more chapter to sort of wrap up this story within a story, and then we'll start the (multiple chapter) wrap of the story itself. Who knows how many more chapters to come. Blame the gremlins. They dictate what happens. I am not in control. Of anything.

Enjoy.

Again, sorry.

Xoxo

--

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the faint hum of the hospital machines provided the only sounds as Paige drifted into confused consciousness. Her body felt paralyzingly heavy, like leaded weights filled her bones, a dull but excruciating ache radiating from her side and wrist, her head pounding with an unrelenting throb. Every breath, assisted by the canula in her nose pumping oxygen, brought with it a stabbing pain through her chest and ribs. The constriction of bandages were a painful reminder of her fragile state. Despite her deep desire to keep her eyes closed forever, to not wake up to the nightmare she was certain she'd find to be reality, she blinked against the harsh fluorescent light, her mind foggy, her vision blurry and unfocused. Her eyes stung as the light assaulted her, bringing with it images in her mind as she tried to make out the ceiling tiles and where she was.

Fragments of the warehouse flashed behind her eyes like jagged, broken pieces of a nightmare she wanted so much to awake from, but also never awake from and face. Lily's wide eyed, tear-streaked face, her trembling voice, the unbearable weight of her limp body. Paige's throat tightened, and she willed the images to fade, but they only grew sharper, clawing at the edges of her mind like a provoked wolf animal, fierce and unrelenting.

A chair scraped against the tile floor, the sound grating and jarring in the stillness, causing the throbbing in her head to intensify momentarily. Paige turned her head slightly to see the root of the sound invasion, every movement igniting sharp flares of pain.

Tim.

Tim was sitting beside her, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if in prayer. His face was lined with worry, dark circles under his eyes, and wetness within them betraying the concern he carried. Looking up and noticing her stirring, relief washed over his features, and he leaned closer, gently taking her casted hand in his.

"Hey." He said softly, kissing her exposed fingers lightly. "You're awake… how are you feeling?"

Paige tried to respond, but her throat felt like sandpaper, her voice caught somewhere between her chest and the air around her. She opened her mouth, but no words came out, her lips trembling from the effort. Tim quickly poured water into a plastic cup, holding the straw to her lips. She sipped slowly, the cool liquid soothing her parched throat. She wanted to thank him, but the words were lost, buried beneath the weight of her guilt. She attempted to take the cup herself, but her hands proved too weak, her eyes too heavy and desperate to close again. Close to the physical pain. Close to the nightmare being real. Close to the images flashing in her mind. Close to the breaking of her heart.

"Easy, it's okay. I got it." She wanted to hate him for doing it for her. "Better?" He asked, setting the cup aside, his hand gently brushing over the side of her head with so much affection.

She nodded faintly, though the tightness in her chest didn't ease. She wanted to go back to the darkness.

"Paige, I was so scared." Tim continued, his voice breaking slightly, his grip on her hand tightening, his eyes imploring hers for proof she was alive. "You really scared the hell out of me. When the building exploded… God, I thought I'd lost you."

She didn't respond, her thoughts spiraling as the memories of the explosion scratched their way to the surface. The sharp pain as it blasted, a feeling like she'd never felt before under the force of the blast being thrown. Lily's terrified face, the sound of her pleading voice, the moment her body went limp in Paige's arms. Walter. Pleading with Walter. It was all too much. Paige turned her head away, her gaze fixed on the window. The sunlight streaming through the blinds felt intrusive, unwelcome. Where was the rain when you needed it? She didn't deserve sunshine. She didn't deserve its warmth. She didn't deserve to have survived. She deserved to have died in that building, her body swallowed by its flames.

Not that little girl.

"Paige…" Tim pressed gently, his brow furrowing. "What happened in that building? One second we're doing a grid search and the next a… a bomb just went off… and the building was collapsing."

Her chest seared with pain, and her jaw clenched painfully against the surge of emotions threatening to break free. She shook her head, wincing at the motion, her voice hoarse as she spoke.

"It doesn't matter now." She said sadly, feeling Tim step toward her. "I don't want to talk about it."

Tim hesitated, his concern deepening.

"Paige, you've been through something traumatic. You can't just bury it. You can talk to me--"

"I said I don't want to talk about it!" Her voice rose, sharper now, more forceful, cracking like a whip, and she turned her head to glare at him. "Just… drop it, Tim."

Tim leaned back, his face falling into a mixture of hurt and helplessness. He opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it, nodding instead.

"Okay, I'm sorry." He said softly. "I'm here, when you're ready. Until then, I'll give you space. Whatever you need, we'll get through this."

But the space he gave felt suffocating to her. As he sat silently by her side, Paige's thoughts darkened. It was her fault. The words looped through her mind, growing louder with every breath. She killed her. She had killed Lily. She promised her she'd be okay, and now she was dead because of her. She had promised to protect her, to bring her home. She had failed.

Tim's presence only amplified the guilt. She couldn't bear to look at him, couldn't bear to feel the goodness of his love and concern. It felt undeserved, misplaced.

When the door creaked open, Paige's eyes darted toward it. Walter stepped into the room, his movements slow and deliberate, his face pale and smudged with soot, stitched cuts lining his jaw and forehead, mirroring her own. His right leg was encased in a white plaster cast, a walking boot clunking heavily against the tile floor as he limped toward her, crutch tucked ungracefully under his arm moving with each step. He wore a scrub top, starched and crisp, a reminder of how he'd used his shirt to stop her from bleeding out. His face carried pain, his body wearing it physically, but she could see the non physical kind in the vacant expression he held and the dark circles under his eyes that matched her own. Despite the injuries, he carried himself with an air of determination, though his usual confidence was replaced by a quiet tension that made her chest ache more than it already was.

"Walter…" Paige's voice trembled, her eyes pooling with tears. The sight of him, battered and broken, made her stomach churn with guilt. She had put him in that position. Her choices, her recklessness, had led to this. Had nearly killed him. The man she loved so deeply. If she had just listened to him…

Walter's gaze briefly met hers before shifting to Tim, giving him a curt nod. His lips pressed into a thin line as he turned back to Paige, his expression unreadable.

"I, um… I'm glad to see you're awake. That's uh, that's good." He was uncomfortable, extremely uncomfortable and it broke her heart, well, what was left of it. "Well, um. I just wanted to let you know that Ralph is on his way." He said, his tone flat and devoid of warmth. "Cabe sent a plane for him. He'll be here soon. Don't worry an agent is accompanying him. I spoke with him, he is aware only that you were injured in a mission, and he was quite relieved to hear you'll be okay."

Her eyes bore into his, both with walls so high, built of shame and guilt, not even an explosion could break them down. Especially with Tim sitting there monitoring their exchange. Paige blinked, her vision blurring as tears threatened to spill over. She wanted to say something, anything, but her throat felt like it was closing.

"Well, uh, I should go. You need rest."

Walter lingered for a moment, his eyes scanning her face as though searching for something he couldn't find. Then he turned to leave, his walking boot clunking heavily against the floor.

At the door, he paused, his back to her.

"The remains… It's not the same, but she's going home to her family, Paige." He said quietly, his voice cracking slightly. "I thought you'd want to know."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she sucked in a sharp breath. She nodded faintly, her chin trembling as she tried hard not to cry, her hands clutching the blanket so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"Thank you." She whispered, though it came out more as a croak.

Walter hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorframe as if he wanted to say more. But then he walked out, the sound of his uneven steps echoing in the silence. She wanted to scream for him to come back, to come back and never leave. To stay with her forever. But all she had was silence.

Paige stared at the door long after he was gone, her chest heaving with silent sobs. Tim reached for her hand, but she pulled away, turning her face toward the window as tears streamed down her cheeks.

Tim sat back, his expression unreadable as he watched her retreat into herself. He had never felt so powerless, so unable to reach her. He didn't know what transpired inside that warehouse, just the aftermath, but judging by the brokenness that had just been exchanged between her and Walter, and the way Walter hadn't said a word to anyone since the warehouse, he was certain it was bad. Very, very bad.

Paige was going to need all the love and support he could muster to help her through this.

He would be there.

He lost her once already, outside that building, watching Toby break her ribs, begging her not to die. It was a torment unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

He wouldn't lose her again.

--

Outside in the hallway, Walter leaned tiredly against the wall, his casted leg throbbing with pain. His chest felt tight, his breaths shallow. Cabe and Toby had admonished him greatly for signing himself out against medical advice, refusing to be admitted, or consenting to surgery. He couldn't stay here. He had just needed to see that Paige was okay, and then he could leave. He didn't need a hospital. Or supplemental oxygen, or surgery. He needed to get home. Focus on work. Put this all behind him. Be didn't want pain need, he deserved to feel every last bit of agony he was in.

His plan had been simple. See that she's okay. Leave.

But then he'd actually seen her… the first time since watching Toby crack her chest willing her to live. He closed his eyes, the image of Paige in that hospital bed burned into his mind. Tubing and wires connected to her like she herself was wired to blow. Wounds and sutures covering her once soft and delicate skin that had felt so warm under his touch. Her hand that had held his that day in the museum, had pulled at his clothing that night at the coffee pot, had tousled his hair when they were undercover… not in a thick plaster cast. Beneath the blanket, he knew without seeing, her abdomen which had trembled beneath his touch, had been gruely rearranged in surgery to repair the shrapnel damage, stitched back together kevorkian style. Her lungs, that once breathed life into him, now lined with soot and smoke, struggling even with the high flow oxygen. Sure, she was alive. But, he couldn't shake the sight of her pale, broken form, the way her eyes had filled with tears when she saw him, how she didn't speak a word, no doubt blaming him for everything she was now facing. For Lily. His eyes pooled with erratic, bitter tears, his breathing even more jagged, his fists balling into tight bricks, his nails digging into his palms.

"You don't deserve her." He muttered under his breath, his voice filled with self-loathing.

Walter hobbled down the hospital hallway, his mind a whirlwind of guilt and anger, his leg throbbing with every step. He found a men's restroom at the end of the corridor and pushed the door open, needing to retreat from onlookers in the halls, including his teammates starting at him with such pity, the bright fluorescent lights glaring down at him like an interrogation. Limping his way to the sink, he gripped the edges tightly as he stared at his reflection in the mirror, hating what was staring back at him.

His face was a mess, cuts and bruises adorned his skin, and streaks of dried blood clung stubbornly to his jawline, though, he couldn't even say for certain whose blood it was. His? Paige's? Lily's? His eyes were hollow, rimmed with exhaustion and grief. The bags under his eyes were so dark they matched the darkness of his irises. He hardly recognized himself, and the sight sent a fresh wave of self-loathing crashing over him.

This was his fault.

The thought screamed through his mind, steadfast and cruel. He had let his anger get in the way. Had delayed following her because he was too stubborn, too focused on avoiding her, too childish. Instead of just communicating with her. He pushed professionalism, but had failed her professionally. If he'd been there, he could've saved them both. He could've stopped her from going in alone. He could've disarmed the bomb in time. Could have gotten the remote. Gotten them out of the blast zone.

Walter's grip on the sink tightened until his knuckles turned white and throbbed agonizingly. His breath came in short, sharp gasps as the memories of the warehouse overwhelmed him. Paige screaming for help. Lily's terrified sobs. The distinct ticking. The deafening sound of the explosion. The moment he saw Paige cradling Lily's lifeless body, her own blood pooling beneath her. Lily's gasping breaths, vacant eyes. The feel of her hair. The weight of Paige going limp in his arms. The sound of her ribs cracking.

With a sudden, guttural cry, Walter lashed out, slamming his fist into the mirror. The glass shattered, shards raining down into the sink and onto the floor. Just like the glass in the warehouse. A sharp pain shot through his hand, blood dripping from his knuckles, but he didn't care. The physical pain was a welcome distraction from the anguish tearing him apart inside.

He stumbled back from the sink, his injured leg giving out beneath him, and he crumpled to the floor, the metal crutch falling with a clang among the wreckage. Sobs wracked his body, violent and uncontrollable, his hands clutching at his hair as if trying to rip the guilt from his mind. The tears streamed down his face, mixing with the blood from his fresh wounds.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his voice breaking. "I'm so sorry."

The words were meant for Paige, for Lily, for everyone he had failed. But no apology could erase the fallout of what he had done, or hadn't done. Facing the reality that his anger and avoidance had contributed to the tragedy was unbearable. He had put distance between himself and Paige, and that distance had cost a young girl her life. Had nearly cost Paige hers.

He was a genius. The 5th smartest human in the world. And yet, in the moments that mattered most, he had failed.

He'd never felt this feeling before. Anxiousness. Panic. Like his throat was closing and he couldn't get in enough air. His entire body was responding outside of his control. Rationally, he knew he was having a panic attack. But irrationally, which seemed to be winning, he felt like he was dying. His legs moving frantically, his hands clutching at and releasing his pants over and over.

Just then the door slowly slipped open, and with the crunching of glass under feet, a body came to sit beside him on the cold, dirty tile floor. Silent. But present. Comforting. A hand grabbed his knee, supportive and understanding. Simply there as Walter fought to breathe and calm himself, standing by a reinforcement as the war waged within Walter.

He didn't need to say a word. Didn't ask any questions. Didn't call for help. He knew. He his son better than just about anyone. Cabe was like that.

So together, they sat, as Toby, Happy and Sylvester wiped at their eyes just outside the bathroom door standing guard, allowing Walter to take a moment to feel, and grieve, and process the ordeal he'd faced.

No one knew exactly what had occured, but they knew for certain that for Walter to be reacting this way, it was worse than they'd thought.

--

The following weeks were a blur of pain and anguish, discomfort, and silence for Paige. After an intensive follow up surgery to repair the damage from the shrapnel and stabilize her broken ribs, she was discharged from the hospital with strict instructions to rest. The metal shard that had sliced through her side had blocked a smaller piece deeper set, which had caused significant internal damage, requiring hours in the operating room and a complex stitching process to repair her liver and surrounding tissue. Her wrist had been reset with pins and placed in a cast, while the deep gashes on her head, shoulder and arm were sutured, leaving her with several rows of neat stitches that throbbed relentlessly. Every movement was spent in pure affliction, and she often found herself holding her breath against the sharp pain radiating from her side.

Tim was by her side the moment she returned home, taking on the role of her caregiver with dogged determination. He brought her meals, arranged her medications, seeing to it she kept to a strict schedule, helped her sit up in bed, and ensured she had everything she needed at all times, becoming an almost helicopter parent to her. Something she suddenly empathized with Ralph about. But Tim's unwavering attentiveness also came with a palpable tension. Paige could feel it in the way he hovered, watching her as if she might break at any moment. She knew he wanted her to talk, to open up about what had happened, but she couldn't. The words were trapped, tangled in a web of guilt and despair that she didn't know how to untangle them. What happened in that warehouse was her burden to bear, not anyone else's. It was between her, Walter and Lily.

And she missed them both terribly. She only knew Lily for less than an hour, but it was an hour she would carry for a lifetime.

Walter… what could she say? That was far too complicated to even try at the moment.

Tim tried his best to fill the silence she left around them, to keep things light, with constant small talk that she tried her best to just drown out. She wanted the silence. She found she just wanted to be alone. Alone in her misery. Alone in her thoughts. Alone in her pain. Alone in the darkness.

"You need anything else, sweetheart?" He asked one evening as he set a tray of soup and crackers on the bedside table, an effort they both knew was pointless. She wouldn't eat it. "More pillows? A blanket? Pain meds? I can adjust the thermostat if you're cold…"

"I'm fine." Paige replied, her voice flat. The answer they both knew she would give. She barely glanced at him as she adjusted her position, wincing at the pull in her side. He rushed to her side just as she knew he would, and she waved him away, just as he knew she would.

Tim lingered for a moment, shifting awkwardly.

"Do you… want to talk? About what happened?"

Paige's jaw tightened, and she shook her head impatiently.

"There's nothing to talk about, Tim. A child is dead. I'm not. End of story."

His shoulders sagged, disappointment flickering across his face.

"I just--"

"Tim, please." She interrupted, her tone sharper than she intended. "I don't want to talk about it. Okay? Why is this so complicated to understand?" And she was icy, just as he knew she would be.

Tim nodded reluctantly, retreating to the kitchen, where he gripped the edge of the counter, staring down at his hands, an overwhelming sense of dismay washing over him.

He had read Walter's report on the mission in hours of learning something, anything that could help him help Paige, but it was clinical, devoid of emotion. Very… Walter. It didn't explain why Paige woke up screaming some nights or why she could barely look at Ralph. It didn't explain the haunted look in her eyes or the way she flinched whenever anyone mentioned Lily's name or the explosion. And Walter… Walter had been no help at all filling in the gaps.

No one could get through to him. Least of all Tim.

Walter had thrown himself back into work the moment he boarded the plane home, just hours after seeing Paige, limping into the garage with his walking boot and throwing his focus into every project that came his way. His own injuries, a severely broken ankle, cracked ribs, and a several burns and lacerations were manageable, and he took care to keep his physical pain hidden from the team. The real pain, the guilt eating away at his insides, was surprisingly harder to mask.

He avoided conversations about the mission at all costs, shutting down anyone who tried to bring it up.

"You doing okay, Walt?" Cabe had asked one evening after a case briefing.

"I'm fine." Walter replied curtly, not looking up from his laptop.

"You don't look fine." Cabe pressed. "Besides the fact that you shouldn't even be working, you've been limping around here like a wounded deer, and you haven't said more than two words to anyone all week."

Walter finally glanced up, his expression cold.

"I said I'm fine, Cabe. There's no point in my not working. My brain is unaffected by my physical injuries. It would be inefficient for me not to be using it. And I haven't said much, because there's nothing to be said. So, can we focus on the tasks at hand?"

Cabe sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Alright, kid. But this… this isn't healthy."

Walter ignored him, diving back into his work with a ferocity that left no room for further discussion.

Truth was, there was only one person he cared to speak to, but because of all of his failings, he couldn't. So, speaking seemed pointless. It was better to just focus on the things he could.

And not on his endless loop of thoughts of what he'd done, what he lost, what could never be.

--

Toby, ever the psychologist, tried his best to reach both Paige and Walter, but his efforts were met with harrowing resistance.

"Paige, bottling this up isn't going to help. You know that." He said gently during one of his visits. "You went through something incredibly traumatic. You need to process it."

"Consider it processed. Things happened. But I'm fine, Toby." Paige replied, her tone clipped.

"You're not fine." He countered. "Come on, Paige… None of us are fine after what happened. I know I'm not. And I wasn't even in that room. And I wasn't the one that nearly died. But I was there Paige. For the aftermath. When Walter pulled you out of that building… I performed CPR on you. You were dead with my Tobinator lips breathing air into you. You were dead, D-E-A-D dead, pal. Lights out. Six feet under kind of dead--"

"Yeah, I get it." She interrupted, her hand subconsciously moving to feel her chest. Every breath she took, she was well aware of what Toby had done.

"Well, you just got lucky Paige, and also happened to come back to the land of the living. But you still died Paige. For over two minutes. And that kid… what happened with her… That's not exactly an 'I'm fine' a week later kind of event."

Paige shook her head, tears brimming in her eyes.

He should have let her die.

"Just… leave it alone, Toby. I'm well aware of what went down. And I don't need you, or Tim, or anyone telling me how I should be dealing with it!" Her harsh tone and fiery eyes told him this subject was not yet ready to be pushed with her. He put his hands up in surrender, giving a worried nod.

"Okay. Yeah. I get it. I'm sorry."

When he tried a similar approach with Walter, the response was equally dismissive.

"You know, Pal… You don't have to carry this alone." Toby said during a quiet moment in the garage.

"I'm not carrying anything, Toby." Walter dismissed, an air of frustration lacing his words, as he continued to type.

"You are and you know it. But for some Walteristic reason, you have walled yourself off to the world. As your friend, I'm worried about you. I'm wondering why you don't want to talk about it."

"Nothing to talk about."

"Walter, you saved Paige's life. You did everything you could."

"Not everything." Walter muttered, his voice bitter. He didn't elaborate, simply shutting his laptop with more force than was necessary, and walked off toward the loft with a steely determination.

--

Even Ralph noticed the change in both Paige and Walter, his quiet concern evident. He approached his mother cautiously one evening as she once again sat on the far edge of her bed staring out the window, lost in a sea of thought, his face full of apprehension.

"Mom, are you… okay?" He asked, coming to sit beside her on the edge, blocking her view out the window.

Paige forced a smile, brushing his hair back with her good hand, but he could tell it wasn't real.

"I'm fine, sweetie. Just… tired. You know, it takes time for injuries to heal is all. But I'm okay."

Ralph frowned, not convinced.

"You don't look okay. You look… sad. And Walter doesn't look okay either. He's been… weird… lately. Like weirder than Walter-weird. Everyone has, and no one will tell me what happened on that case… at the warehouse. Everyone always talks at the garage. And no one is talking. It's… alarming. What happened?"

Paige's heart pinched, and she looked away, her eyes welling with tears, before turning back to Ralph with a plastered smile. Her sweet boy, not much younger than Lily. Every time she looked at him, she saw Lily. The guilt she carried only intensified when she, as a mother, looked at her child. Knowing that Lily's mother will never again look at her child. Will never hug her child. See her child grow up.

All because of her.

"Everything's fine, Ralph. Really. It was just a Scorpion mission that went a little sideways, as they do sometimes. You know how it goes. We made some mistakes, and got hurt. It shouldn't have happened." She said lightly. "But, you don't need to worry about me or Walter, okay? We're both fine."

But Ralph didn't believe her.

Or anyone.

--

The aftermath of the bombing hit Walter hard, harder than he could have ever imagined, a storm of conflicting emotions threatening to drown him as he sat alone in the loft of the garage. The sunlight streaming through the large windows mocked him, a cruel contrast to the dark and twisted memories that had been playing on a loop in his mind since that day. His leg throbbed in its cast, a constant reminder of what had transpired, of losing Lily of how close he'd come to losing Paige, to failing her completely.

He balled his fists, staring blankly at the table in front of him, where a half-finished circuit board lay untouched. His mind wasn't on the task at hand, it hadn't been since the moment he felt Paige's body go limp in his arms, her blood soaking through his clothes, coating his skin. He could still hear Toby's frantic voice, the uneven rhythm of compressions as he fought to bring her back, the sound of her gasping breath when life returned to her.

That moment had been seared into his brain, a permanent scar on his consciousness. Walter had watched her teeter on the edge of death, and in those harrowing seconds, he was forced to confront something he'd been trying to suppress for months: his love for Paige wasn't just a complication in his life… it was his life. He was not one to experience fear. It was rare, and he was usually able to swallow it down with sheer impulsivity. But, the thought of losing her, of a world without her in it, had felt like drowning, like the very foundation of his existence was being torn away. He'd pushed away that foundation.

But then… she had woken up. She had breathed. She had lived. And it should have been a relief, should have been enough to let him push aside the crushing guilt over Lily, over every decision that led them to that moment. But it wasn't.

Because even in her survival, Walter couldn't shake the bitter truth that Paige had chosen Tim. That she had gone home to Tim the night of their fight. That it had been Tim at her bedside. That she was with someone else in every way that mattered. And yet, in those moments in the warehouse, when he had been so desperate to save her, none of it had mattered. His anger, his rejection, his boundaries, none of it. All that mattered was her. Her survival.

His mind raced back to that day, replaying every decision he had made, every second he had hesitated, every moment he had failed. He should have gone into that room with her the second she had mentioned it. He should have trusted her intuition, her instincts. If he hadn't been so stubborn, so angry, maybe Lily would still be alive. Maybe Paige wouldn't have had to endure such pain, physically or emotionally.

He had delayed following her because of his own pride, jealousy and resentment. When she was in trouble, she couldn't call him because of his own selfishness. He had let his emotions cloud his judgment, and it had cost an innocent girl her life. And Paige. God, Paige. She had suffered because of him. He'd been the one to push her to the brink, to force her into situations she shouldn't have faced alone.

Because of him, Ralph almost lost the only parent he has. Now, he could barely face the boy.

Walter ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly as if trying to physically contain the whirlwind in his head. His lungs felt tight, his breathing uneven. The memories were too vivid, too raw. He could still feel her body fighting back in his arms, still see the tears on her face as she clung to Lily, refusing to leave her behind, still hear that damn song nonstop, all day and night in his mind.

You are my sunshine…

Paige blamed him. He was sure of it. There's no she couldn't. She couldn't see his role in what had happened and not fault him. She didn't know the extent of his guilt, how it ate at him like a disease. How he blamed him too. He had failed Lily, but more than that, he had failed Paige. He'd let her down when she needed him most, because he was hurt and angry, and being a petulant child, and the burden of that failure was unbearable.

He became everything she had feared. He had proven her right.

He wanted to be there for her now, to help her through the consequences of everything they'd endured together, the team had all chastised him for not going to see her, but how could he? How could he sit by her side, offer her comfort, when he was the reason she needed it? How could he face her, knowing he had let her down so profoundly? Knowing she likely hated him now?

And then there was Tim.

Walter's hands trembled as he thought about him, about the man Paige had chosen. The man who, by all accounts, should be the one helping her heal, and was to some degree from what he overheard. But Tim hadn't been in that warehouse. He hadn't felt her life slipping away, hadn't seen the light fade from Lily's eyes. He didn't know the nightmare that Walter and Paige now shared.

Yet, Walter knew he couldn't step in. He couldn't be her crutch, not anymore. He had drawn that line in the sand long before Lily, when he'd told Paige he couldn't be her friend. He had meant it, had tried to stand by it. But nearly losing her had shattered that resolve, leaving him stranded between wanting to protect her and knowing he couldn't handle being close to her, not when his feelings for her were so overwhelming. Especially now being so emotionally vulnerable.

He loved her. God, did he love her. But what good had that love done? It had brought them nothing but pain. It had driven them apart, left them both broken in different ways. Just like she said it would. And now, as she recovered with Tim by her side, Walter couldn't help but feel like an outsider, a man standing on the edge of a life he wanted but could never have.

He was the interloper.

He had been right all along. Loving her was destabilizing. And that lack of stability had gotten a child killed.

He hated himself for it, for being so consumed by her, for letting her dictate the rhythm of his heart. And he hated her too, in the smallest, most fragile parts of his soul, for making him love her, for being the one person who could undo him so completely. But more than anything, he hated the circumstances that had brought them to this point. The mistakes, the misunderstandings, the moments of weakness that had led to so much loss.

Walter's fists slammed against the table, the pain shooting up his injured ribs but barely registering in his mind. The physical pain was nothing compared to the turmoil inside him, the war he was fighting with himself every second of every day.

That night the garage was a far cry from its usual organized chaos. The team had been subdued since the case with Lily, Homeland conducting an internal review of the events, and the downtime had left everyone lost in their own thoughts of that day, walking on eggshells around Walter, missing Paige. Walter frequently basked in the silence, but tonight, the silence in the loft was oppressive. Walter sat at his desk, staring at a blank monitor, his fingers frozen over the keyboard, still unable to focus.

A knock on the open loft door startled him from his trance. He turned to see Cabe leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, his sharp eyes studying Walter intently. Walter's back straightened instinctively, his expression neutral.

"Cabe." Walter greeted, his voice even. "Do you need something?"

Cabe stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he walked closer.

"Yeah, I do." He said gruffly. "I need to know what the hell is going on with you."

Walter blinked, confusion flickering across his face.

"What do you mean? I've been working, same as always."

"Cut the crap, kid." Cabe said, his tone firm but not unkind, in a way that only Cabe could muster. "I've been watching you, and you've barely said a word to anyone since that day. You're barely eating. You c claim to be working, but you just stare at your computer all day. And let's not even talk about Paige. You haven't gone to see her since she came to at the hospital. What's going on?"

Walter's jaw clenched, his eyes flickering back to the blank monitor.

"Paige… doesn't want to see me."

Cabe pulled up a chair, dropping into it with a heavy sigh.

"And how exactly do you know that? Did she tell you that? Cause I have a real hard time believing that that girl doesn't want to see you, kid."

Walter hesitated, his fingers gripping the edge of the desk, his stoic facade crumbling a bit. Two weeks of holding it all in, and his tough exterior in the face of Cabe was faltering.

"She doesn't have to say it. It's… my fault she was in that hospital in the first place."

Cabe's brow furrowed, his voice softening.

"What are you talking about? You pulled her out of that building. You're the reason she is alive. You saved her life, son."

Walter's head snapped up, his eyes dark with pain.

"And she wouldn't have needed saving if I hadn't let her go in alone!" Walter snapped, emotions taking hold of him. "If I had just listened to her, followed her immediately, done my job! If she'd been able to contact me. Lily might still be alive, and Paige wouldn't have nearly died! I got that girl killed. I put Paige in that hospital. And she knows it. She doesn't want to see me."

Cabe exhaled, caught off guard by Walter's sudden confession, expecting the same dismissive non-statement he'd given all week. Leaning forward in his chair, he struggled to find the right words. It was rare for Walter to show any emotions, but to see him explosively showing raw vulnerability, he'd only seen it twice. When he'd learned the truth about Baghdad, and when Megan had died.

"Walter, you know as well as I do that things… they don't always go according to plan. That maniac set up a trap. They'd been tipped off. Knew we were there. They torched the place to protect their ring. They are the ones who killed that kid and hurt Paige, not you."

Walter shook his head, his voice low and bitter.

"You don't understand."

"Then make me understand." Cabe pushed, his voice rising slightly. "You've been beating yourself up over this for two weeks, and I don't get why. Is this why you lied in your report?"

Walter's head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing.

"I didn't lie."

Cabe raised an eyebrow.

"Then what do you call leaving out the part where you went back into a burning and collapsing building, injured, to recover that little girl's body? Instead it reads that the body was recovered by rescuers."

Walter's lips pressed into a thin line.

"It says rescue operations. Which is factual." Cabe rose an eyebrow in challenge. "Fine, it's an omission of facts."

Cabe scoffed, leaning back in his chair.

"Omission, lie… it's the same damn thing. Why leave it out? You did something heroic, Walter. You should've told the truth."

Walter's voice was sharp as he replied.

"Because I don't deserve praise, Cabe. If I had done things right, Lily would have walked out of that building on her own, and Paige never would have been in that hospital. It's my fault Lily is dead. That her parents are preparing to bury their child. It's my fault Paige is suffering, in pain. I'm no hero. I'm a murderer. Again."

The room fell into a heavy silence, Walter's words hanging between them. Cabe studied him for a long moment, his expression softening as he realized the depth of Walter's guilt. Baghdad, those deaths, Walter wore them like a cross he was dragging to his own crucifixion, every day. It's why he fought so hard to save everyone now. Lily dying, and for whatever reason, Walter believing it to be his fault, just added to his body count.

"Walter…" Cabe began, his tone gentle. "You need to lay down the bricks your stacking on yourself. You made mistakes, maybe, I don't know because you won't talk about it, but you didn't cause this. That psycho with a bomb, his bosses, did. You can't hold yourself responsible for everything."

Walter's hands balled into fists, his knuckles white.

"You don't get it. Every decision I made that day was wrong. I blocked communications with her. I hesitated. I didn't trust her judgment. I let her go up alone because I was angry. I wasn't thinking clearly. I wasn't focused on the job. And it cost a fourteen year old child her life. And Paige… I almost lost her, Cabe."

Cabe sighed, his voice softening even further.

"I know how much she means to you. I know you love her, Walter."

Walter flinched, looking away.

"It doesn't matter. She's with Tim. I can't--" His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. "I can't be near her, Cabe. I can't face her. Not after what happened. Not when every time I look at her, all I see is how I failed her."

Cabe leaned forward, resting a hand on Walter's shoulder.

"Walter, you didn't fail her. You went back for Lily. From what I was able to gather, you did it because you made a promise to Paige. You were so disoriented, injured, bleeding, half dead yourself, muttering nonsense, but what was clear was that you made that girl a promise, and you would stop at nothing to follow through. Look at you. You ran into a burning building to get that little girl out. Whatever that promise to Paige was, kid. You did it. You got Lily out of that building. You saved her body from that fire. Gave her parents some closure. I know you may not understand, but as a father who has lost his daughter, Walt… That means something. So maybe you didn't do everything right. You're human. But you didn't do everything wrong either. Cut yourself a little slack."

Walter didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the floor. After a moment, Cabe stood, giving his shoulder a firm squeeze before heading to the door.

"For what it's worth…" Cabe said, pausing in the doorway. "I think you and Paige need each other right now. Whatever's going on between you two, whatever did it didn't happen before the two of yas walked into that building… you've got to put it aside, son. You both deserve a chance to heal. And no one knows what you're both going through besides the two of you. Now isn't the time. You need to lean on each other. And let me tell ya kid, that girl needs someone to lean on."

Walter didn't look up, his silence saying more than his words could. Cabe sighed and left the loft, the sound of the door closing echoing in the quiet space. Walter leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes as his guilt settled even deeper.

--

The clock's dim glow cast faint shadows across the dark bedroom. Paige's chest rose and fell rapidly, her breaths shallow and erratic as she bolted upright in bed, an agonizing scream ripping from her throat. Her fingers gripped the blanket so tightly her nails could make holes in the fabric. Her heart pounded violently in her healing chest, each beat reverberating in her ears like thunder.

She blinked, trying to ground herself, but the nightmare clung to her mind, Lily's pleading eyes, the acrid smoke, her name in Walter's pleading screams, the sound of the explosion, and the deafening silence afterward. The blood. All of the blood. That damn song, unforgiving and endless. And Lily's lifeless body burning to char in that building. Her body trembled violently as the fragments of memory mixed with the adrenaline coursing through her.

Tim was instantly by her side, his hands on her shoulders.

"Hey! Hey! Paige! It's okay! It's okay! It was just a nightmare. You're safe. I'm here."

She flinched at his touch, jerking away from him as though his hands burned. Her breaths coming in gasps, the room spinning around her.

Tim flicked on the bedside lamp, crawling over to her.

"Paige, look at me." His voice was firm but soothing as he reached for her again, taking note of how her pupils were dilated like saucers, completely erasing her irises. "You're okay. Just breathe."

"I can't--" She choked out, her hands clawing at the blanket, and her throat, her lungs gasping for air, panic settling in her throat. Her chest felt like it was caving in, every breath a struggle. "I can't breathe--"

"You can. You can, Paige. It's just your brain tricking you. You're home. You're safe. Just focus. In… and out… in… and out… good. Again. In… out."

It took a moment, Tim taking breaths with her, for her breathing to at least regulate enough that she wasn't panicking, but her mind couldn't be helped. She didn't deserve to be helped. She deserved every bit of torment she was facing.

She didn't want his help.

"Here." He grabbed a water bottle from the nightstand, fumbling to unscrew the cap before holding it out to her. "Take a sip. It'll help."

That word again. Help.

She was broken, and everyone knew it. Everyone saw her for what she was now. Helpless. Hopeless. Broken.

Including him. He treated her like a fragile porcelain doll now. Like one wrong move and she would break for good, shatter into a million pieces on the floor, his hopes and dreams of their future together shattering with her.

A future she didn't want.

A future she didn't deserve.

On some level, she was angry with him. Had he never asked her to move in with him, had he let her actually talk that night she came home crying, had he not rushed off at Cooper's call, she would have been able to tell him, to end things. And then she would have been able to tell Walter. And when they entered that warehouse, they would have done so happy. In love. And she never would have been in that room alone. Walter wouldn't have been angry with her, avoiding her. Her number would never have been blocked. They would have found Lily together. They would have gotten her out with time to spare.

Rationally, she knew it was ridiculous to be angry with him over that, he didn't even know. And logically she should just end things now. But she also knew this wasn't the time to end things. He would think it was because of the trauma. The amount of time he'd used the word trauma in the last two weeks was making it lose all meaning. He'd say it was a knee-jerk reaction. It wasn't the right time to be making big decisions. He'd tell her all the right things, and in her state of mind, she would fall into it, because it was easy.

So she was angry with him.

And angry at herself.

And a little angry at Walter, though, that thought just made her more angry at herself.

She needed to find a way to cope on her own, so she could deal with the looming relationship issues. But to do that, she couldn't think about her relationship issues now. She didn't even deserve to have them.

She didn't deserve the men in her life.

She didn't deserve to have anyone trying to help her heal from what was her own fault.

She hated herself. Hated every bit of who she'd become, of what she'd let happen.

Anger rose in her, fueled by the adrenaline, anger at herself, but also at him for not getting it. For not seeing that she just wanted to be left alone. She swatted the bottle away with her casted hand, water splashing onto the sheets, as she snapped.

"Stop! Just… stop! God!" Her voice cracked, trembling with anger and anguish. "You can't fix this, Tim! You can't wave some magic wand and make it all go away!" She practically fell from the bed as she scurried out of it, needing to distance herself from his affection, his forced aide, and simultaneously crawl out of her own skin.

He froze, his brow furrowing with a whiplash effect.

"What? Paige... No… I'm not trying to fix anything. I understand what you're going through, the trauma… I'm just trying to help you."

That word.

She was so tired of hearing that word.

"Well, you can't!" She snapped, her voice rising as tears streamed down her face. "You don't understand! You. Weren't. There!"

Tim recoiled slightly, his expression tightening.

"You think I don't know that! That I haven't run through it a million times?! How I should have never let you go in there without me?"

"Let me?!" She scoffed, itching for a fight if only to release some of the adrenaline pumping through her system. Tim sighed, realizing his poor word selection, dropping his tone and volume.

"I'm sorry. That was not what I meant… it was the wrong choice of words. Look, Paige, I know I wasn't there, but that doesn't mean I don't care! I've been through things like this--"

"No, you haven't!" She shouted, her voice sharp and raw. She turned to face him fully, her eyes blazing with a mix of grief and fury, hands balled at her sides. "You have no idea what it was like! You didn't see her! You didn't hold her while she…" Her voice faltered, breaking into a sob. "You don't understand, Tim! You can't possibly understand! So stop pretending you do."

"Paige, please." He reached for her again, his hands trembling slightly. "I'm trying here. I just want to help you through this."

"I don't need your help! I don't need anyone's help!" She yelled, shoving his hands away. The motion was jerky and desperate, her body wincing in pain with the effort. "I can't do this right now, Tim! I can't deal with you hovering over me all day and night, everyday, acting like you can make this better. Waiting for me to break down!"

"I'm not trying to hover." He said defensively, his voice rising to match hers. "I'm trying to be here for you because I love you, Paige! You don't have to go through this alone!"

"But I am alone!" She screamed, her voice breaking on the last word. "No one can fix this for me. Not you. Not anyone! So, unless you can bring that little girl back from the dead, then just… stop!"

The rawness of her words hung in the air, cutting through the tension like a blade. Tim's face crumpled, his eyes filled with desperation and sadness for her. This was the most she'd said about the entire ordeal in over two weeks. It was progress. He was getting her to open up. With that in mind, he stepped closer, his hands outstretched.

"Paige, I'm so sorry…" He said, his tone softer but no less urgent, desperate to help her exercise her demons. "Let me help you. Let me hold you."

"No! My god!! Are you even listening to me!" She backed away, her breaths shallow and ragged, her hands shaking. "I can't do this, Tim. I can't… I can't… I can't be here." Frantically she scanned the room, her eyes wide, her feet restless to take her away. "I need to get some air. I have to go."

"You're not thinking clearly." He countered, his voice tinged with panic. "You're upset. Your body is still healing. You need rest."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"I can't rest! I can't breathe in here. I need to get out." She slipped on her sneakers, ignoring every twinge of pain, as he watched her. "Stop treating me like a child!"

"Paige, you need to calm down. You're not even cleared to drive yet." He argued, stepping in front of the door as she grabbed her sweatshirt. "Honey, come on, you're not in any condition to go anywhere."

"Tim. Move." She demanded, her voice low but fierce.

"No, Paige, this is crazy." He said firmly, planting himself in front of her. "I'm not letting you go out like this. It's not safe. We need to talk about this."

Her eyes narrowed, her frustration boiling over.

"Get out of my way, Tim." Her voice was cold and seething, her eyes so sharp they could cut him.

"Paige, please!" His voice cracked as he reached for her again, his hands gripping her arms gently but firmly. "Don't shut me out. Let me be here for you."

She wrenched her arms free with a force that surprised them both, stepping back as if his touch was unbearable. She felt the popping of ripped sutures at her side, but didn't care.

"I said move!" She shouted, her voice trembling with anger and pain. "You can't fix this. Stop trying to fix me like I'm some broken thing. I'm not your damn project!"

Tim's jaw clenched, his face a mask of hurt and helplessness.

"I don't see you as a project, Paige. I see you as someone I care about. Someone I love."

Her shoulders sagged, the raw honesty of his words pressing down on her already burdened heart. She shook her head, her voice quieter but no less strained.

"I don't need your love right now, Tim. I need space. Please."

"Paige--"

"Please." She repeated, her voice breaking. "Just let me go."

Tim hesitated, his hands falling to his sides as he stepped aside reluctantly. She grabbed her keys and phone from the counter, her hands trembling as she clutched them tightly.

"Okay… Just… be careful? Please. Call me, if you need me to come get you." He begged quietly, his voice filled with worry.

She didn't respond. Without another word, she opened the door and stepped into the cool night air, the door clicking shut behind her. The quiet of the street was jarring after the storm of emotions inside. Her chest still heaved with the remnants of her tears, but the crisp air felt like a balm against her burning skin, a sharp sob of relief at being out of that space shot through her, and the audible wailing cry that escaped her sounded so shattered to her own ears.

Stepping into the car, ignoring the pulling pain at her side, she sat for a moment, letting all of the emotions take over her body, before she let out a guttural, inhuman scream, slamming her fists against the steering wheel, the pain radiating up her arm barely registering. The cast cracked under the force, but she didn't stop. She pounded the wheel again and again and again, each blow a release of the anguish wrapped around her very soul, her screams turning to desperate cries of surrender. All of the images danced in her mind, no pause button, her mind churning with guilt, anger, sorrow, and self loathing. The tears continued to fall, blurring the city lights around her. But she didn't care about that either. For now, all she could do was put the car in gear, and drive, just drive, trying to escape the suffocating pull of her grief and the well-meaning love she couldn't bear to accept.

"Is my Mom alright? I've never heard her yell like that." Ralph's worried, but sleepy voice startled Tim, as he watched her drive away out the window. Sighing, he wiped at his face trying to gain some composure before turning back to the boy, keeping a brave face.

"Yeah, she'll be alright. She's just going through a lot right now, bud. You know, what happened to her… it was scary. That's all. She just needed to get out, get some air, clear her mind."

"You guys all treat me like a child. I know what happened." Tim froze, chartering into unfamiliar territory, but Ralph continued. "I'm a genius, Tim. And I have access to the internet. I know what happened at that warehouse. I know it wasn't just my mom and Walter that got blown up. I know a kid died. And judging by the injuries on my mother and Walter, and the girl dying from hers, I'd say my mom was with her when she died, and they were in the immediate blast vicinity."

"I… Uh…" Tim searched his brain for any response he could offer to reassure Ralph.

"That's what I thought. The girl was about my age. And if I know my mom, she tried everything to get her to safety. It's what she'd do for me. So, I'm willing to bet that she's blaming herself. And you weren't injured, so you weren't there with her when the bomb detonated… but Walter was. How am I doing so far?"

"Ralph…" He needed Paige. Now.

"Look Tim, I know you love my mom. That you want to help her. So do I. But this isn't rocket science. It doesn't take a genius to see that you and I can't. We weren't there. We can't relate. My mom is big on teaching me the human emotion stuff, and well, it's just basic human empathy. You have to know it, to feel it. We can sympathize, sure, but we have no idea what's going on in her mind."

"Yeah… I know…"

"So if you can't help her, and I can't help her, I guess the ultimate question is… who can?" Ralph left the loaded question walking back to his bedroom, knowing full well the only person that could relate to what his mother was facing was Walter. The only other person that experienced what she had experienced.

He wasn't going to question why Walter hadn't once come to see her however. He was a genius. He knew far more than any of the adults gave him credit for. And he heard everything.

He just wanted what was best for her. That's all he cared about.

Tim stood motionless by the window, staring out at the empty street where Paige's car had disappeared from moments earlier. His shoulders slumped, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he replayed the confrontation in his mind. They never fought. He'd never seen her like that. Every word she had hurled at him, every tear she shed, had cut through to his soul. He wanted so desperately to be the rock she could lean on, but she refused him at every turn.

He turned toward Ralph's bedroom, the boy's loaded question echoing in his mind.

Who can?

Tim didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know the remedy, how to help Paige heal. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe she was right. He couldn't fix this. It wasn't something he could muscle through or strategize his way around. This wasn't a battlefield where he could protect her from danger; it was a war raging inside her, and he didn't have the tools to fight it.

Taking a deep breath, Tim knocked lightly on Ralph's door. The boy opened it almost immediately, his sharp eyes scanning Tim with a mixture of concern and knowing. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them like a chasm.

"You're right." Tim admitted finally, his voice quiet but steady. "I don't know how to help her. I've tried everything I can think of, but it's not enough. She won't let me in."

Ralph crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe all knowingly.

"That's because you're not who she needs right now."

Tim's heart sank at the bluntness of Ralph's words, but he nodded, acknowledging the truth in them.

"You think it's Walter."

"I don't think…" Ralph replied matter-of-factly. "I know. He was there, Tim. He knows what she's going through, even if he won't talk about it. He's the only person who can help her right now. I think on some level you know that."

Tim let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.

"Walter hasn't come to see her once since the hospital. He's avoiding her, just like he always does when things get hard."

"Maybe because he feels guilty." Ralph said simply. "Just like my mom does. They're both blaming themselves for what happened. To that girl, and to each other. That would explain why they're avoiding each other. But if they don't talk about it, neither of them is ever going to get better." Though, he was sure there were other factors at play in the avoidance, he wasn't going to add insult to Tim's already injured ego right now. Later, but not now.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling over.

"You're saying I should just step aside and let Walter… who am I kidding, you're a kid--"

"I'm her kid, Tim. And a genius. And what I'm saying is you need to stop doing this your way, and think about what she needs." Ralph interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "Let her deal with this the way she needs to. If that means talking to Walter, if that will help her get through this, then yeah, maybe you do need to step aside. At least for now."

Tim stared at the boy, his words sinking in, like lead balloons, but still, sinking in. Ralph's calm, logical demeanor was a stark contrast to the storm raging inside Tim's own chest. He wanted to argue, to push back, but he knew Ralph was right. As much as it hurt to admit, he couldn't be the person Paige needed right now.

"I just… I hate seeing her like this." Tim said, his voice breaking slightly. "I love her, Ralph. I don't know how to just step back and do… nothing. It's not in my nature."

"You're not doing nothing." Ralph said, his voice softening. "You're giving her what she needs. That's what love is, isn't it? Doing what's best for her, even if it's hard for you?"

Tim nodded slowly, the boy's words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He reached out and ruffled Ralph's hair lightly, offering a small, weary smile. He was definitely her kid.

"You're a smart kid, you know that?"

Ralph shrugged, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Genius, remember?"

Tim chuckled despite himself, the tension in his chest easing slightly.

"Thanks, Ralph."

As Ralph retreated back into his room, Tim turned back to the window, staring out into the night. The ache in his chest didn't lessen, but for the first time, he felt a sliver of clarity. He couldn't be the hero in this story, no matter how much he wanted to be. This wasn't his battle to fight.

But coming to terms with it being Walter… Well, that would be a pill harder to swallow.

--

Paige gripped the steering wheel so tightly as she drove, that her casted hand throbbed from the pressure, feeling the rough edges where her fingers emerged digging into her flesh. The tears streaming down her face blurred her vision, much the way her thoughts had been a blur since that day. She needed to escape, to outrun the overwhelming pressure of her guilt and grief. The city lights passed by in a haze, her mind replaying the nightmare over and over again. Lily's voice, her tears, her final breaths. The image she'd created in her head of Lily's body being consumed by the flames of the burning building haunted her the most. Walter should have taken Lily out, not her. Her family deserved to be able to see her one last time. Not the burned remains. The crushing burden of her failures, of not being enough, not doing enough, engulfed her, just like the flames should have.

Finally, she pulled over to the side of the road, her body trembling as she rested her forehead against the wheel. The sobs wracked her body, uncontrollable and tireless. For the first time since the warehouse, she let herself feel the full range of her emotions, no longer trying to suppress them or push them aside.

"I'm sorry!" She whispered through her tears, the words directed at no one and everyone all at once. "I'm so, so sorry…"

The cool night air seeped in through the cracked window, rooting her just enough to keep her from spiraling completely. She took a deep, shuddering breath, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. She didn't know where she was going or what she was looking for, but for now, the drive was all she had.

All she could do was keep moving, one mile at a time, as she tried to find some semblance of peace amidst the chaos inside her.

It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when Paige found herself standing on the worn porch of Cabe's modest suburban home. Her car was parked crookedly at the curb, the driver's side door still ajar, as though she'd stumbled out mid-thought. She barely remembered the drive, only the inordinate need to escape the walls of her life. Briefly, she had started heading toward the loft. To Walter. Her heart craved him in ways she couldn't even understand, aching with the desire to be near him, to let him shoulder some of her pain, to just talk with him again. But she couldn't. She didn't deserve that, not from him. Not after everything that had happened. Everything she'd done. He didn't want her around. So, instead, she had pulled a sharp, and very illegal, U-turn, and came to the next best thing.

The frigid night air stung her skin as she stared blankly at the porch light illuminating his modest, very Cabe-esque home. Her hands twitched at her sides, the same nervous energy that had fueled her impulsive drive now threatening to consume her entirely. She barely remembered the drive, one moment she was clutching the steering wheel as she made the dangerous turn, the next she was parked haphazardly in front of Cabe's house, her driver's side door still slightly ajar.

Her knuckles rapped faintly against the door, the sound barely audible in the stillness of the early morning, so quiet it sounded almost apologetic. But the light flicking on inside, the faint rustling movement beyond the door told her it had been enough. When Cabe opened the door, the sight of her stole the air from his lungs.

"Paige?" His voice was gruff but laced with worry as he stood in his white wife-beater tank and plaid pajama bottoms. His eyes scanned her disheveled appearance, her hair tied in a loose, messy knot with strands falling in her face, her sweatshirt rumpled and oversized, and her face streaked with tears that hadn't dried. The cast on her wrist hung awkwardly at her side with obvious injury to its surface suggesting some sort of struggle, and the dark circles under her red-rimmed eyes made her look as though she hadn't slept in days, which he was certain she hadn't. But this, being on his doorstep, showing him this appearance, proved just how not fine she really was. She looked like a shadow of the strong, resilient woman he knew, smaller somehow, shrunken beneath the grief she held. "Sweetheart… what's going on? Are you alright?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Her throat felt raw, her chest hollow, and she could only shake her head, tears welling up in her already puffy eyes.

"I--I don't know. I uh, I don't even know why I'm here..." She stammered, her voice shaking. "I just… I couldn't stay. I couldn't breathe… I just needed to get away from it all. It's all too much… I'm sorry. It's the middle of the night--"

Cabe frowned, his worry deepening as he closed the door behind her.

"I'm glad you came." He interrupted, his hand resting on her shoulder, firm and reassuring, giving her a look that told her clearly he would hear no more apologies, as he gently guided her inside.

She followed him into the warm house, her steps unsteady, as though her legs might give out at any moment. The living room was cozy, the faint smell of wood polish and a bit of mustiness lingering in the air. Cabe guided her to the worn old sofa that had always reminded her of one her parents had when she was a child, his voice gentle as he spoke.

"Come on, sit down, Paige." He instructed, guiding her gently to the couch in the living room. "I'll get you something warm."

She sank into the cushions, her movements slow and weighted, her gaze fixed on the floor. Her hands fidgeted with the edge of her sweatshirt as she tried to steady her racing thoughts. Attempting to fill the awkwardness at her sudden presence there, she let her eyes dart around the room, looking for something, anything, to focus on that wasn't the emptiness she felt in her chest. But, sadly, there wasn't much to gaze upon. Cabe was a very simple man. Old sofa. Arm chair. Television. Simple coffee table with a few case files resting atop it. An end table with a simple lamp, and corded telephone, notepad with pen perched on it. The walls were bare with the exception of a hanging calendar by the kitchen and an old clock.

The only thing that even really showed he lived there was a small bookshelf against the far wall, several novels stacked haphazardly on its shelves, but seated so neatly on top was a single framed photo of Amanda.

No wonder Cabe spent so much time working. Being home was just… grim. A sad reminder of the life he had had and lost when he lost his daughter.

When he returned a few minutes later with a steaming mug, she glanced up at him, her eyes clouded with exhaustion and grief, but also a hint of sadness for the man before her who had been through so much, and yet, still managed to come out on the other side of it.

"Chamomile." He answered the question she hadn't asked, as he handed her the mug of hot tea, sitting down in the armchair across from her. "Rebecca used to have nights like this… after Amanda… after we lost her. Wasn't much I could do to help her. But I'd make her tea. It didn't fix anything, but it helped, at least a little. Gave her hands something to hold, something to focus on. Now… I keep it around just out of habit, I guess."

Paige stared into the tea, her fingers curling tightly around the mug, the warmth seeping into her palms, though it did nothing to stop the chill that seemed to have settled in her bones. It did exactly that. Gave her something to keep her restless hands busy.

"Thank you."

"Drink the tea, Paige." He urged gently. His voice was gruff but kind, the tone of someone who had seen too much pain and knew how to navigate it, at least on the surface.

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line, but finally lifted the mug to her lips and took a small sip. The chamomile was warm, soothing against her raw throat, but it didn't ease the turmoil churning inside her.

Together they sat in silence for several long minutes. Paige seemingly lost as she stared into the abyss of the hot liquid. The clock on the wall ticked softly in the background, an odd contrast to the thick, oppressive silence in the dim living room. Cabe sat across from her in his armchair, elbows on his knees, watching her intently. His face lined with worry, the deep grooves on his forehead evidence of a life spent in high-stress situations. But this… this was different. Paige wasn't just another case. She was family. And seeing her like this broke something deep inside him.

Finally, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he studied her. She hadn't said much since arriving at his door step, and he wouldn't press her. He'd known Paige long enough to recognize the walls she put up when she was in pain.

"You don't have to talk about it, kiddo…" He started calmly, watching as her lips quivered slightly. "But I'm guessing you're blaming yourself for what happened in that warehouse."

Her head shot up, her eyes narrowing defensively.

"I didn't say that."

"No, you didn't." His voice was placid, steady. "But I know you, Paige. I know how you think. And I know that when things go wrong, you take it all on yourself. Just like someone else I know."

Her jaw tightened, but she didn't respond, her gaze returning to the mug in her hands.

"You're not alone in this." Cabe added softly.

Her breath hitched at his words, and she shook her head slightly.

"Tim said that too." She muttered. "But he… doesn't understand. He wants to, but he just doesn't."

"I didn't mean Tim." Cabe said, his tone firm. "I meant the other guy that loves you something fierce."

Paige's head snapped up again, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face.

"Walter doesn't want to see me." She said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. He wasn't going to comment on how she immediately knew it was Walter… That was a ribbing for another day.

Cabe sighed, leaning back in his chair.

"You sure about that? Because I was there when he pulled you out of that building, and that didn't look like a man who doesn't want to see you. That looked like a man who would walk through fire for just one more chance to see you."

Her throat tightened, her mind racing with memories of Walter's coldness before the mission, his refusal to even acknowledge her existence. It didn't match what Cabe was saying. It couldn't.

"It's my fault, Cabe. My fault he was even there. All of it. Everything that happened that day. He knows that. I was the one who went into that room. I rushed it. I ignored his orders. I refused to wait for him. It's because of me that the bomb went off. That she was killed. That he was hurt. I was the one who made promises I couldn't keep. To him. To her. To everyone. Everyone is in this position because of me, Cabe. Me. Walter had more than enough reason not to want to see me before we even entered that building. Nevermind now."

"Paige, that kid loves you. I know you know that. He walked through fire that day, and I have no doubt he'd do it again to see you."

Paige froze, her fingers tightening around the mug. She didn't respond, her throat once again constricting as Cabe's words sank in, biting her lip to keep the words threatening to spill over contained. She didn't want to talk about Walter. It was too hard. Too raw. Cabe didn't understand. The silence between them stretched, heavy and unspoken, until she finally broke it.

"So, um, Toby said the funeral is Monday. That the family asked us all to be there."

Cabe wanted to keep her talking about Walter, about all of it, but knew he couldn't push or she'd just shut down and tell him how fine she is, so opted to take her lead, and her changes of subject.

"They did, yes. They'd uh, they'd like to thank you… if you're up for it."

She didn't have an answer for that yet. She didn't know how she could ever face them. How she could look that bereaved mother in the eye, knowing they had failed at keeping every promise she'd made to Lily.

"Speaking of that… um, thanking people…" She said hesitantly, again changing the subject, her voice strained, but determined, putting a false put togetherness. "I'd like to send a thank you to the rescue team operators that recovered Lily's body. I think it's important that her family has that closure, has a body to bury."

Cabe frowned, tilting his head.

"The rescue team?"

"Yeah." Paige nodded, her tone matter-of-fact. "I read the report. It didn't have names, it didn't have much of anything, actually. Typical Walter, short and to the point. But I think it's important. That couldn't have been easy after the building went down. Finding her… in that state. But uh, I think they should be recognized for what they did. It matters."

Cabe's brow furrowed, realization dawning on him. She didn't know. Didn't know It was Walter. Didn't know he pulled her out before the collapse.

"Right…"

"Anyway, I was hoping you may know a name or a number, who I can contact…"

"Yeah, um. Of course. I uh, actually know the guy that found her." He said after a pause, his voice even, but mindful. He reached for the notepad and pen on the end table beside the phone, scribbling down a name and number before tearing off the page and folding it neatly. "Here's his name. I'm sure he'd really love to hear from you."

"Thank you. How's he doi--" When he handed it to her, Paige unfolded it carefully. Her brows knitted together in confusion as she read the name, disbelief clouding her expression. "What? Wait… But…No… this says… Walter?" She asked, her voice tinged with confusion.

Cabe nodded, his voice gentle but steady.

"Yeah… Paige… Walter. After Walter got you out… After Toby brought you back… after he pounded on your chest for what felt like an eternity… Walter collapsed right there in the dirt. Smoke inhalation, second-degree burns, broken ankle, you name it. But he just kept muttering about a promise. Over and over. Like it was the only thing keeping him going. He had to get her home. Even when he could barely breathe, even when his lips were turning blue. I've seen Walter do some stupid things, but watching him, in that state, running back into that building… he went back in for her, Paige. Not a rescue team. Not after the fact. Walter, half alive himself, rushed back into that inferno to get that girl's body."

Paige's eyes widened, her hands trembling as she clutched the piece of paper, her heart hammering in her chest. She felt like she was going to pass out. Could feel the cracking of her bones, could feel the heat of the fire on her skin, the pain in her side. Could feel her breathing accelerate as she shook her head, her heart clenching painfully. She didn't want to hear this. Didn't want to know. Didn't want to picture him this way.

"W-what? No… he… I um, what?"

"He risked his life to get her out, Paige." Cabe explained. "That building was coming down faster than we could even put two and two together, fire everywhere. The fire was so hot it was burning us from a hundred yards away, smoke so thick you couldn't see two feet in front of ya, but Walter man, he didn't stop. Said he'd promised you. Said he wouldn't leave her there. He had to get her home."

Her breath caught, and she looked away, her chest tightening painfully as she tried to make sense of this information.

"He made it out with barely a second to spare, covered in burns and injuries. But that girl didn't have a single burn on her. He protected her, just like he protected you, with his life. The second he was out, that building went down, along with him. I thought we were going to lose all three of you, Paige."

"But the report… He didn't… he didn't… none of it… it's not in his report…"

Cabe chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it.

"Of course he didn't. That's Walter. Keeps the facts neat and tidy. Leaves out the part where he shattered his ankle, suffered third degree burns and nearly died to make good on a promise."

Paige's tears spilled over, silent but steady as she stared at the piece of paper in her hands. Her chin quivered, her nose sniffled, and her fingers brushed delicately at errant tears as her mind raced, a storm of emotions crashing over her. Gratitude, guilt, disbelief, and something deeper, something she couldn't name, swirled in her chest.

"Why? Why wouldn't he tell me?" She asked, more to herself, than to him. "He could have been killed. Nearly was. Why would he keep that? Hide it?"

Cabe gave her a knowing look.

"You know why. Walter's not the kind of guy to take credit for something like that. He doesn't think he deserves it. All he sees is the fact that Lily didn't make it. In his eyes, her blood is on his hands." A sob shook through her at the thought.

"I wouldn't leave. I refused to leave her. He tried so hard, Cabe. But I wouldn't go. He was injured. Couldn't get us both. So he forced me away from her. My god, Cabe. I hated him for it. I hit him. Over and over. Begged him to go back. But he wouldn't let me go. He promised me…" She whispered, her voice breaking. "He promised me he'd bring her home."

"And he did, Paige." Cabe moved to sit beside her, taking her hand in his as his own tears threatened to fall. "Not the way he wanted to, but he kept his promise. He didn't stop until she was out of that building."

She had no words. Nothing she could say.

"He's blaming himself, Paige. Just like you. He doesn't want praise over something he feels he caused. You know him, he's not so good with the emotions. With processing these kinds of things without feeling like he has to shoulder it alone." He paused, letting out another huntress chuckle. "The two of you, you really are two peas in a pod you know… You've both got that look. You've both been wearing that same one, the one of being haunted since that day. Walter's been blaming himself for everything, too. For what happened to you, to Lily, for the whole damn mission. He's convinced you don't want to see him for the same reasons you think he doesn't want to see you."

"I-I… don't know what to say." She whispered, her chest heaving as she struggled to control her emotions. "I messed things up with him. So badly Cabe. I'm so ashamed. I hurt him. I didn't think he wanted anything to do with me."

"You don't have to say anything right now, kiddo." Cabe said, his voice kind. "But maybe think about this?" She met his eyes, uncertainty swirling in them. "Walter sees things in black and white. Pardon my callousness here, but to him… a dead body… it's just a dead body. It's not getting any deader in a fire, or a building collapse. Whether her body was recovered before or after wouldn't matter to him. To us normal humans, absolutely. But not to him. I mean he kept his sister in a coffee can for crying out loud. His sister. He didn't even know this girl. He didn't didn't rush back into a burning building because it was protocol. Or because of some need for her family to have closure. He doesn't even notice those things unless you point them out. He did it because he cares. About you. Because it mattered to you. After watching you die, all that mattered to him was keeping a promise to get her out for you." She wiped at her face, soaking wet with tears, her nose running, her lips shuddering. "Maybe, just maybe, he'd want to hear from you about it. You're both carrying this weight, and it's eating you alive. But you don't have to do it alone."

Paige nodded faintly, her mind too overwhelmed to respond. The image of Walter, broken and burned, muttering about his promise to her, was something she would never forget. All he had done for her, when she had been certain he'd never speak to her again, challenged everything she had been feeling. For the first time in weeks, the walls around her heart began to crack, just enough to let in the possibility that she wasn't as alone as she thought. That she and Walter weren't as far gone as she thought. Just enough to let the smallest sliver of hope into her icy cold heart.

Paige sat on the couch, stock still for what felt like a century, everything Cabe had shared pressing down on her like an anvil. Her hands rested limply in her lap, her eyes unfocused as she stared at the floor. The tears had stopped, but the raw ache in her chest persisted, the flood of emotions leaving her drained and hollow. She didn't know where to go from here, what to do with the new knowledge she had been given. It felt too heavy to hold but too important to let go.

Cabe had moved to stand nearby, watching her with quiet concern. His usual stoic demeanor had softened, replaced with the careful patience of someone who had seen this kind of pain before. He didn't press her for any more words. He knew better than that. In the last hour, she finally released so much of what she'd been bottling up for over two weeks. Instead, he walked to a nearby closet, pulling out a folded blanket and an old pillow, his movements deliberate, jarring her from her trance. Quickly she stood, prepared to head out, release him from his middle of the night counseling duties, having overstayed her impromptu welcome.

"You're staying here the rest of the night." He said matter-of-factly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "It's late, and you're in no condition to drive back home. You've been through a lot. You need rest."

Paige glanced up at him, her brow furrowing.

"Cabe, I don't want to impose--"

"You're not imposing." He cut her off, shaking out the blanket and draping it over the couch. "This old thing isn't exactly a bed at the Ritz Carlton, but I've spent plenty of nights on it and lived to tell the tale."

A faint, fleeting smile tugged at her lips, but it quickly vanished. She shifted uncomfortably, her fingers tracing the edge of her sweatshirt.

"I don't even know if I can sleep." She admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cabe paused, looking at her with a mix of understanding and resolve.

"You need rest, Paige. I know it doesn't feel like it right now, but sleep will help. Even if it's just for a little while. Every bit counts right now."

She nodded reluctantly, her body too exhausted to argue. As Cabe placed the pillow at one end of the couch, he gestured toward it.

"Come on. Lay down. It's been a few years since I've tucked anyone in, but I'm sure I still remember how."

Paige hesitated for a moment before finally complying with a lighthearted pull at the edges of her mouth, her movements slow and stiff. She sank onto the couch, adjusting the pillow under her head as Cabe tucked the blanket around her. It smelled like him. The warmth of the fabric, it's scent, the quiet hum of the room, and the sweet fatherly way he kissed her forehead felt as comforting as her heart would allow, though the turmoil in her mind remained.

Cabe stood back, his arms crossed as he looked down at her.

"I'll be just down the hall if you need anything." He said sweetly. "And Paige… you don't have to figure it all out tonight. One step at a time, okay?"

She nodded again, her mind too overloaded to form words. Cabe's steady presence, his calm reassurance, was something she hadn't realized she needed until now. As he turned to leave, she called out softly, stopping him in his tracks.

"Cabe… thank you."

He turned back, offering her a small, genuine smile.

"Get some sleep, kid."

With that, he walked down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps fading as Paige closed her eyes. The couch wasn't particularly comfortable, and her mind was still racing, but for the first time in weeks, she felt a glimmer of something she hadn't felt in what seemed like forever, the faintest trace of peace.

--

The early morning sun cast a pale light over the garage through the dingy old windows, cutting through the quiet stillness. Walter sat at his desk, his focus wavering as he stared at his tablet screen. His casted foot rested awkwardly on the edge of a stool, throbbing with a dull pain he had grown accustomed to ignoring. He hadn't slept. Again. The faint rumble of machinery and duct work was the only sound in the room, a backdrop to the cacophony of thoughts racing through his mind. He was consumed by work, or at least pretending to be, the illusion of productivity a thin shield against the overwhelming guilt and grief that had plagued him since the mission. He had come to find respite in watching the sunrise through the early hours of the garage, a reminder that the world around him still moved, even if he felt stuck in place. Saturdays used to be his least favorite day in the garage, as he would quietly long for the noise and chaos of the team. But now, since his world had stopped turning, he found a clarity of sorts in the silence. Alone with his thoughts, as dark and restless as they may be. He was free to have them without the pitying eyes of Sylvester, or the inquests of Toby, the resolute expressions of Happy, or the force him to talk nature of Cabe. He could just… be.

A knock at the locked garage door broke through his thoughts, however. It was measured, hesitant but firm enough to demand attention. Walter frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall. Just past 6:00 a.m. Leaving him questioning who could possibly be there at this hour.

Setting down his tablet, he grabbed his crutch and limped to the door, unlocking the dead bolts. When he opened it, Tim stood there, looking weary and strained. His usually sharp, intimidating demeanor was almost timid, his shoulders hunched slightly as though carrying an invisible weight. Walter blinked in surprise.

"Tim?"

Tim nodded, his jaw squared and clearly uncomfortable.

"Hey Walter…" He said, his voice low. "Can I…" He exhaled heavily, swallowing his pride. "Can I come in?"

Walter hesitated for a moment, scanning Tim's face, entirely confused. There was no trace of animosity or confrontation, only exhaustion and something deeper. Something Walter recognized. Finally, he stepped aside, allowing Tim to enter.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course."

Tim crossed the threshold, his steps slow and deliberate. He looked around the familiar space before turning to face Walter.

"I know it's early. I hope I didn't wake you." Walter shook his head.

"No, I'm just catching up on some work." He said it easily, but he was remarkably alarmed by Tim being there.

"I know I'm probably the last person you expected to see on a Saturday morning." Tim began, his voice quiet but steady.

"That's accurate." Walter replied, leaning against his crutch. "Is everything okay? Or a case…?"

Tim let out a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face.

"It's Paige." He said finally, his voice cracking slightly.

Walter's heart stopped briefly at the mention of her name.

"Paige? What about Paige?" He knew there was a panic to his tone, but there was no hope in trying to disguise it.

"She's not okay." Tim said bluntly, his voice cracking slightly. "I mean… she hasn't been okay. Not since... Anyone can see that. But last night… it was bad, Walter. Really bad. I've never seen her like that before. It scared me."

Walter's jaw tightened, his grip on his crutch firming. He said nothing, waiting for Tim to continue.

"Like what?"

"She had another nightmare. She's plagued with them. Woke up screaming." Tim began, his voice strangled. "I tried to calm her down, to help her, but… she pushed me away. She was angry, she was scared, and… I just… I don't know how to reach her. To help he. I've tried everything, but she won't let me in. She doesn't want my help. I don't know what to do anymore."

Walter looked away, the thought of Paige in such a state poking holes in his resolve.

"Well, she's been through a traumatic experience. She feels things… deeply." Walter said evenly, analytically, though there was a flicker of unease in his voice. He didn't know what to say, especially to Tim of all people.

"It was unlike anything I've seen from her. She stormed out. She was upset, angry. I tried to help her, but…" He paused, shaking his head. "She left. She shouldn't be driving. She just had major surgery. But she was so upset." Walter nodded, unable to formulate anything coherent to say. "Anyway, I got a text from Cabe at 3 a.m. I guess she showed up at his place, and he said she's not in a good place, Walter. She's really struggling."

Walter stiffened, his grip tightening on the handle of his crutch.

"Is she… is she safe?" He asked, his voice quieter, almost hesitant. He hated that in that state she hadn't come to him. Not that he could blame her.

"Yeah." Tim assured him. "She stayed the night at Cabe's. But her safety… that's not why I'm here." Walter frowned, his gaze sharpening. Tim took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I need your help." He said simply.

Walter blinked, startled by the directness of Tim's words.

"My help?"

"Yeah." Tim nodded, his expression earnest. "I've been doing everything I can to help Paige since… since the mission. But nothing's working. She's shutting me out. Shutting everyone out. She won't talk to me about what happened, won't let me in. Barely looks at Ralph. Shes not eating. Not sleeping. After last night, Ralph--" He paused, once again swallowing his pride. "Ralph made me see that maybe I've been handling this all wrong. I've been selfish, trying to fix things my way instead of thinking about what she really needs."

Walter shifted uncomfortably, unsure how to respond.

"And what is it that she needs?"

"You." Tim's voice was firm but gentle.

Walter's eyes went wide in shock, but that he thought that, and that he had said it.

"Me? No, I'm the last thing--"

"You were there with her, Walter. As much as it kills me to admit it, especially to you, you know what she went through. I don't. I can sympathize all I want, but I can't understand it. Not in the way you can."

Walter's gaze dropped to the floor, his chest tightening.

"She doesn't want to see me, Tim." He muttered. "She blames me for what happened. And she should."

Tim shook his head, stepping closer.

"She doesn't blame you, Walter. She blames herself. Just like you're blaming yourself. Cabe told me a little bit about what happened in that warehouse. What you did for her. For Lily. She might not know the whole story yet, but I know enough. And I know you're carrying this just as much as she is. Look, I don't know if she wants to see you or not, she hasn't said more than 'I'm fine' for two weeks to know what she wants, but I think she needs to see you. And whether you think you deserve it or not, you're the only one who can help her right now."

Walter swallowed hard, his throat dry.

"I don't think I can help her, Tim." He admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not good at… this. At emotions. At being there for people."

Tim let out a faint, humorless chuckle.

"Neither am I, apparently." He said. "But this isn't about us, Walter. It's about her. And right now, the woman we both care about is in trouble. She's in a dark place, and I'm terrified of where that might lead her if she doesn't get the support she needs."

Walter looked up, his eyes meeting Tim's. There was no animosity there, no resentment, only a raw, quiet desperation that mirrored his own.

"I know it's asking a lot." Tim continued. "And I wouldn't be here if it weren't an absolute last resort. But this isn't about me or you or whatever history we have. This is about Paige. I know, a few weeks back, when I questioned your feelings for her, your friendship… I know you backed off. And i respect that. I do. But I have to wonder if that played a role in what happened that day, in why you're both feeling so guilty. And if so, there's blood on my hands too. Two weeks ago, you saved her life. And I owe you a tremendous debt. And I have no ground to stand on asking more of you, but I am. So now, I'm here, swallowing my pride and my ego, telling you that Paige needs her best friend right now. And that's you. I know you care about her. So, please, Walter. Just… consider it."

For a long moment, the two men stood in silence, the weight of Tim's plea hanging heavy in the air. Finally, Walter gave a small, solemn nod, his expression unreadable.

Tim exhaled, a mixture of relief and exhaustion washing over him.

"Thank you." He said quietly. "I mean it."

Without waiting for a response, Tim turned and headed for the door. He paused just before stepping out, glancing back at Walter.

"And Walter… take care of yourself too, okay? You don't look so great either. Maybe you need her just as much as she needs you right now."

Walter didn't respond, his gaze fixed on the floor as Tim left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Walter alone in the quiet garage.

For a moment, he simply stood there, his mind racing. Then he limped back to his desk, sitting down heavily in his chair. Tim's words echoed in his head. He knew the difficulty Tim must have faced to come here. To ask for help from him. But he was still so unsure. He missed her. Longed for her. He wanted so desperately to see her, to apologize, to be there for her, but he still feared facing her so profoundly. Despite what Tim and Cabe said, he couldn't believe that she didn't hate him, that she didn't blame him. That she didn't want to see him.

But the thought of her in such crisis. In such turmoil. It shattered what was left of his heart. The idea of her blaming herself was too much to bear.

He needed air. He needed to think. He needed to weigh out the best course of action.

--

The soft light of early morning filtered through the blinds of Cabe's living room, casting muted shadows across the space, and glowing streams of floating dust particles. Paige stirred on the couch, the blanket tangled around her legs. Her body ached in protest as she stretched, the sharp , stabbing sensation in her side reminding her of her injuries. But for the first time in weeks, her mind wasn't racing the moment she opened her eyes. She hadn't woken with a scream, and panic. She had slept. Not well, but still, better than she had.

The weight on her chest wasn't gone, but it was lighter, like the first breath after coming up from underwater. Unsteady, but relieving.

Her phone buzzed softly on the coffee table, and she reached for it, wincing slightly as her stiff wrist protested the motion. The screen lit up with a text from Tim. She hesitated for a moment, feeling awful about how she had left things in her anger, her thumb hovering over the notification, before opening it.

Tim:

Morning. I wanted to let you know that Ralph is with Mrs. Ferguson today. He's helping her with some to-do list items, and they're planning to make dinner together later. So please, take all the time you need before you come home.

The next message came through just as she finished reading the first.

Tim:

I also owe you an apology. I'll tell you this in person when I see you, but I need you to know that you were right. I wasn't listening. I wasn't hearing you. I was so focused on trying to find ways to help you that I didn't stop to ask you what you needed. I get it now, (Ralph is pretty special and loves you very much), and I'm really sorry for causing you more stress. I love you. Whatever you need. I will support you. When you're ready to talk, I'll be there.

Her breath hitched slightly as she read his words. They were sincere, heartfelt, and, most importantly, they didn't demand anything of her. He wasn't asking her to forgive him or fix anything. He was just… letting her know.

Setting the phone down, she sank back against the couch, staring at the ceiling as her mind processed the messages. She appreciated Tim's effort, but she wasn't ready to confront what their relationship meant in the aftermath of everything. To confront her feelings for him. That was a bridge she would cross… later. One thing at a time.

The smell of coffee and bacon wafted through the house, pulling her from her thoughts. The muffled clatter of dishes in the kitchen made her sit up, and she gasped in pain as she swung her legs over the side of the couch. Shuffling toward the kitchen, her socked feet silent against the floor, she warned at the sight before her.

Cabe stood at the stove, his back to her, flipping bacon in a cast-iron skillet. He wore the same plaid pajama bottoms from the night before, paired now with a worn T-shirt that stretched snugly over his broad shoulders. The sight was oddly endearing.

"Morning." Paige said softly, her voice still hoarse from sleep, and crying.

Cabe turned, glancing over his shoulder with a faint smile.

"Morning, kiddo." He replied, his husky voice tinged with fondness. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I thought I would." She admitted, leaning against the doorframe. "Thanks… for everything."

Cabe waved her off, turning back to the stove.

"No need to thank me. You needed a place to crash, and I've got a couch. It's probably older than you, but it does the job."

Paige chuckled lightly, the sound foreign even to her own ears.

"You're being modest. That couch might be the most comfortable thing I've slept on in weeks."

Cabe gave a quiet huff of amusement as he plated the bacon, adding it to a small pile of toast and scrambled eggs.

"You want some breakfast?" He asked, gesturing toward the plate.

She shook her head.

"Thanks, but I think I'll pass. I'm not really hungry." She hadn't been hungry for two weeks. And the smell of the bacon, while delicious and enticing, was also making her nauseous.

Cabe frowned but didn't push. He placed the plate on the table and poured himself a cup of coffee, leaning against the counter as he studied her.

"You heading out?" He asked after a moment.

She nodded, her arms crossing over her chest.

"Yeah. I think I just… need to clear my head. Get some air, you know? Spend some time processing on my own."

Cabe nodded in understanding, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Fair enough. But remember, Paige… you don't have to figure it all out in one day. Take it slow. One step at a time."

She offered him a faint smile, her gratitude shining through despite the weight she still carried.

"Thanks, Cabe. For everything. Really."

He gave her a small nod, his expression welcoming a he held his arms open to her. She didn't hesitate before moving into his embrace. It wrapped around her in a way that made her feel safe, supported, and loved.

"You've got people in your corner, kid. Don't forget that." He placed a soft, paternal kiss to the top of her head, before she pulled back nodding in apprehension.

With that, Paige turned toward the door, grabbing her coat and keys.

"Hey, sweetheart?" Paige stopped at the door, turning back to see Paige standing in the doorway of kitchen. "I know you're beating yourself up right now. But what you and Walt did for that kid… she didn't die alone. She died being loved by strangers. If there's anyone I would want holding me as I went, it'd be you, kid. So, give yourself a little grace, yeah?" Paige wiped at a tear pooling, offering a curt nod before she stepped out, closing thr door behind her.

The cold morning air hit her as she stepped outside, but instead of recoiling, she embraced it, letting it wake her fully. Letting the bright rays of the sun open her eyes to l light, instead of just the darkness she had been living in. She took a deep breath, her first in what felt like days, and walked to her car.

She didn't know where she was going, but for now, the destination didn't matter. It was enough to just… move forward. One step at a time.