Chapter Twenty
"Y-You g-got one too?" Walter asked stupidly, since she was holding the proof
she had in her hand.
"Yes. Ralph was about a second away from opening it. What the hell, Walter."
He winced at the fury in her voice. "I'm sorry, I don't know why. . ." Stopping
himself with a shake of his head, he continued, "That's not true. I do know
why I did it. I know it was wrong. But. . .I couldn't help myself."
Confusion filled her eyes, replacing some of her rage. "I don't understand."
"Uh, remember how I hacked the hospital feed of you kissing me?"
Paige's cheeks flushed pink as she nodded.
Walter drew in a deep breath. "I had already hacked it before you told me.
I, uh, wasn't surprised you, ah, kissed me. I was surprised you confessed."
"Oh, my God. . .you. . ."
"I'm sorry. I-I know I'm a. . .a p-pervert," he stated, hanging his head.
"I've done this before. . .watching video of myself interacting with w-women.
To see where I've gone wrong. . ."
"Dammit, Walter." Paige closed her eyes and a pained expression crossed her
face. He recognized that look. He knew what it meant. It had happened to
him more times than he cared to count.
"P-Please, don't. . ." The rest of his plea stuck in his throat.
"Don't what?"
"L-Leave me. P-Please don't leave me," he begged, choking out the words.
"I-I'm sorry, Paige. Please. . . I'll destroy it. Right now." He sprinted
out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
"Walter. . ." Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he saw she was following
him.
Grabbing a mallet from Happy's toolbox, he flung the drive onto the tabletop
before swinging the heavy hammer down on it, smashing it into pieces.
"Walter, stop!" Ignoring her, he kept striking it until there was nothing
left but tiny shards of plastic and twisted metal. Tossing the mallet down
on the workbench, he grasped its edge, gasping for air.
"Walter, I'm not going to leave you," Paige said quietly, placing her hand
on her stomach. "I love you."
"I'm so sorry," he apologized once again. "I-I only w-watched it once. Before
I erased the feed. They had taken it from us, our first time, my first. .
." He inhaled raggedly before continuing, "Turned it into something dirty.
. .something sordid. . . But when I watched it, and saw how beautiful you
were. . . It was like I had reclaimed it. . .and made it into the most wonderful
moment of my life again."
Walter snuck a glance at her then. She was biting her lip. "I don't know
how else to explain it," he said, his shoulders sagging.
"Oh, God, Walter." Her voice wavered and he noticed the tears filling her
eyes.
"I'm so sorry. I promise I'll never. . ."
She cut him off by placing her lips on his, sliding her hands up the sides
of his neck and into his hair. He tentatively kissed her back, stunned she
would even want to touch him, as depraved as he was.
"It's okay," Paige whispered as she pulled back, grasping the sides of his
face. He was trembling, no doubt scared to death she was going to dump him.
"I mean what you did, well, I'm not happy about it. It's, uh, it's kind of
creepy, but. . . I understand now why you did it."
"You're not mad at me?" He sounded surprised.
"Not anymore." She wrapped her arms around him, felt him relax. Taking a
step back, she realized she still held the envelope in one hand. Deciding
to get rid of it and its offensive contents, she started to rip it in two.
"Wait." Walter grabbed her arm. "Was there some kind of message?"
"I don't know, I just looked at it for a second."
Retrieving his from where it had dropped on the floor, they both removed
the pictures from their envelopes, quickly flipping them over to the other
side of the photo. "Nothing," he said before turning it over again. His cheeks
flushed as he scanned the picture, willing himself to focus on a time stamp
in the lower right hand corner.
"Hang on," he said, doing the same with Paige's photo as he ran the numbers
through his head. "Dammit." He pointed to the stamp on the first picture.
"This is how many hours it's been since I last saw Mark Collins." Indicating
the other photo, he added, "And this is how many days it's been since I had
him committed the first time."
"Oh, God." Paige's face paled. "Mark Collins. But how. . .?"
"It's not possible," Walter stated. "He's locked up. I check on his status
every week." He'd kept close tabs on his former friend since the nuclear
plant incident, vowing to never be taken off guard by the psychopath again.
She glanced at him. "Really?"
"Yes. He's a threat to everyone on this team. I need to make sure he's where
he's supposed to be." Walter reached into his pocket for his phone and unlocked
it before dialing.
"This is Walter O'Brien, " he said. "Yes, I'll hold." A few moments passed
before he spoke again, "Thank you." He ended the call with a jab of his finger.
He glanced at Paige. "He's there. They just checked on him."
"But couldn't he have hacked into the feed before you deleted it?"
"Yes, if he'd known about it." Walter ran his hand through his hair. "He's
not allowed unsupervised access to a computer. Logic dictates it can't be
Collins, he would never go after me directly. That's not his style. He'd
go after someone else on the team; Happy, Toby, Sly, Cabe. . .you." He glanced
at her, sick at the thought of anything happening to her, especially now.
"But. . ."
Paige smiled. "Your instinct is telling you it is?" He nodded. "When I first
met you, you would have never even noticed your instinct. And now you're
listening to it. That's progress, Walter."
"Maybe so, but it still doesn't help us figure out who sent these to us."
Picking up the photos, he shoved them both into one of the envelopes.
"Other than the fact they're a pretty sick individual," said Paige. She placed
her hand on Walter's shoulder. "We better clean up this mess before everyone.
. ." Her words were drowned out by the loud creaking of the garage door.
Walter hastily brushed the shattered drive pieces into his hand. With the
shards digging into his skin, he dashed over to the nearest garbage can and
tossed them in. Paige had snatched up the envelopes, and had hurried over
to her desk, stuffing them into a drawer as the rest of the team filed into
the building.
Two weeks later, Walter was brushing his teeth when a loud ‘dammit' came
from Paige's bedroom. Flinging his toothbrush into the sink, he rushed into
the room to find her lying on her back on her bed. The fly of her jeans was
hanging open as she breathed heavily.
"W-What's wrong?" he asked through a mouth full of toothpaste.
"My jeans. I can't get them zipped up. Why can't I get them zipped?"
He accidentally swallowed as he tried to hold back a chuckle. "You're pregnant,"
he pointed out once he could speak again.
"I know I'm pregnant!" she wailed. "I'm only three and a half months! I didn't
start showing with Ralph until I was almost six months along. Why am I so
fat this time?"
"You're not fat," he said before adding, "your uterus is like a balloon.
It's not so easy to blow up the first time because it's never been expanded,
but once it's been stretched, it blows up much quicker the second time."
"Dammit, I'm not a balloon!"
Walter gulped, realizing his scientific analogy probably wasn't what she
wanted to hear. Although he doubted anything he said would be what she wanted
to hear at the moment. He inched closer to the bed and when she didn't react,
he sat down next to her.
"I know you're not a balloon, I was just explaining why. . ."
"You and your damn efficiency are why I'm in this condition in the first
place," she cut in. "Of course, you would knock me up on your first try."
She rose up on her elbows. "Wipe that smug smile off your face."
"I love you," he said, his grin growing wider.
"Shut up and go me find something that fits."
"Okay." Leaning over, he placed a kiss on her belly. Sitting back up, he
saw the tears gathering in the corner of her eyes. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She sat up and wiped at her cheeks.
"You're crying."
"I'm just remembering the first time you did that."
"Did what?"
"Kissed me. . .here," she explained, resting her hand on her abdomen. "That
day in your loft, after you lured me upstairs for cheesecake and. . ."
"I did not lure. . ."
She giggled at his indignation. "Yes you did. You lured me with salty sweet
cheesecake then had your wicked way . ." Interrupting herself by hiccuping,
she stared at him. "You already knew then, didn't you?"
"Yes."
Plopping back onto the mattress, she sighed. "Of course, you did." She rubbed
her belly. "I'm already outnumbered by geniuses. If this one turns out to
be one too. . .it's going to be your fault."
"Okay." Walter stretched out beside her, tracing circles on her stomach.
"We don't have time for this," she said, although she didn't try to stop
him. "I need. . ."
"Mom? Walter?" Ralph's voice came from just outside the bedroom.
"Just a minute, honey." Paige slid off the bed, pulling her blouse down over
her unzipped jeans before she walked over to the door.
"There's two this time," her son said, holding out two manila envelopes.
"One for you and one for Walter."
"Oh, God."
Walter came up behind her, taking the envelopes from Ralph. "Are they more
pictures of your car?" the boy asked.
Darting a glance at Paige, who nodded, Walter said, "Uh, sure."
"Okay." Ralph stared at them for a moment. "We're going to be late if you
two don't quit fooling around." With that, he turned around and headed toward
the living room.
"Well," Paige said, exhaling loudly. "Should we look at them? I mean, I'm
pretty sure of what's inside. . ."
"We need to look for clues," Walter stated, opening the envelope with his
name on it. Another photo of him and Paige. Another time stamp in the lower
right hand corner. He closed his eyes when he realized what the numbers indicated.
"What is it?" He turned to Paige who was biting her lip.
"The hours since Megan. . ." He drew in a ragged breath.
"Oh, God, that's. . ." Placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder, she added,
"whoever is doing this. . . is just. . .sick."
Not trusting himself to speak, Walter opened the other envelope. Different
picture. Different time stamp. 2184. What the hell had happened 2184 hours
ago? Nothing significant came to mind. Okay, not hours then. 2184 day. .
. Oh, shit. . .
Paige gazed at him with a puzzled expression. "What's wrong? What does it
mean?"
Breaking out in a sweat, he said, "Uh, it's how many days since, ah, Mark
and I first went down a rabbit hole."
"How many people would know that?" she asked.
"Only three," he answered tersely. "I need to talk to Collins." Crushing
the photos in his hand, Walter headed out of the bedroom,
"Now?" Paige started to follow him, then remembered her jeans. "Walter, wait.
. ."
"This has to stop," he said, turning back around to face her. "He needs to
be stopped."
"I'm coming with you." Paige crossed her arms over her chest, inadvertently
pushing her breasts higher. He was distracted for a moment, as her pregnancy
had enlarged them even more than her belly.
Shaking the lascivious thoughts from his head, he stated, "No."
"Yes." She glared at him. "This isn't just about you. As I'm sure you've
noticed, I'm in those pictures, too. If you're going, I'm going."
Walter rubbed the back of his neck. Dammit, she wasn't going to budge on
this, if the determined gleam in her eyes was anything to go by. "Fine,"
he acquiesced.
Two hours later, after Paige had found a pair of leggings which still fit
and they had dropped Ralph off at school, she and Walter were led into a
sparsely furnished room by an orderly. Walter pulled out one of the chairs
for her to sit on before he took the remaining one.
Thumps and clicks could be heard in the distance. Paige started when she
felt Walter's hand reached out for hers. Lifting her gaze, she saw he was
as nervous as she was. Probably even more so, since he knew what the psychopathic
ex-team member was capable of better than anyone. Smiling reassuringly, she
squeezed his hand.
The door on the other side of the room opened and they both turned to watched
a man walk toward them.
"Hello, Walter," Mark Collins drawled, a smirk gracing his bearded face.