{Waige} I Heard The Gunshots (One-Shot)

Not So Low E.Q Anymore?

Gunshots reverberated throughout the lot, bouncing off the buildings and echoing. She panicked, hear heart metaphorically rising to her throat as it pumped faster and the walls of her throat tightening.

She stood from her crouching position she donned behind some tin barrels of sorts with Sylvester. She turned to run towards the sounds, but Sylvester's hand gripped her arm. "Just wait Paige."

She pulled from his grip mumbling a broken "No," before taking off in the direction they had come. She breathed heavily, winding her way through the obstacles she faced on her way.

"Walter!" he hears a familiar voice from behind him shout. He turns to see Paige almost jogging towards him, with worry etched on her face. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her, unharmed, running towards him. He was glad she was okay. A gasp of relief escaped her when he turned to look at her. He was okay.

"Paige, I'm okay," he managed to whisper before she collided her body into his, pulling him into her crushing grip. He's shocked, to say the least, at their closeness amd remembers back to when he risked the whole mission just to keep dancing with her for longer. He remembers how the warmth of her body seeped into his, remebers how soft her skin felt under his, how he held her hand in his and didn't want to let go.

Snapping out of his thoughts when he heard her sniffle ever so quietly, and relaxes his still stiff body and pulls his arms around her waist as hers stayed in their place around his neck. He dropped his head to the crook of her neck and breathed her in.

She smelled sweet; the scent of her caramel shampoo and that crazy strong fragranced Chanel perfume she wears. The strength of it almost singed the hairs in his nose, but he doesn't mind, because it's not a horrible smell. It's perfect, just like her.

"I'm okay, Paige," he says into the junction he buried his face into, his lips ghosting her collarbone. "Crying is the shedding of tears in response to an emotional state in humans. The act of crying has been defined as 'a complex secretomotor phenomenon characterised by the shedding of tears from the lacrimal apparatus'. So are you crying because you're hurt, sad, or relived?"

He gained a small chuckle from her, "Walter, I'm crying because I thought I lost you, and because I didn't. I heard the gunshots and -"

"Shh, it's okay. You're not getting rid of me that easily. I'm okay, aside from a possible sprained wrist." She pressed her lips gently to the soft fabric that rested upon his chest, so gently he almost missed it. Almost. But he didn't say anything. He left her have this moment, seeking comfort in his arms, his presence, voice. Him.

Reluctantly she slowly pulled away, looking into his eyes. He lifted his hand, gently swiping at her cheek, pushing away the stray tear the ran down her face. A small smile found its way to her mouth, and he mirrored it. The rest of their bodies untangled from the other, giving both goosebumps.

Her eyes travelled over the features of his face, taking everything in, mentally mapping everything. He moved his uninjured hand to the back of her head, pulling her closer. His lips pressed gently against her forehead, but detaching almost immediately after the conract. He was, after all, still getting used to this whole physical interaction thing, and thought of himself as doing really well so far.

She smiled brightly up at him, "We should get back."

"Mm-hm," he nodded. He took a deep breath before returning to the others, just wanting the day to be over. It had felt like it was dragged out miraculously. And brushes with death weren't fun in the slightest.

She walked in stride with him, and glanced sideways a few times at him. She was grateful nothing had happened to him, and felt like an idiot for breaking down in his arms.

No one says anything about what they witnessed between the two of them, not even Toby. Toby the behaviourist, having to analyse everything, purting his two cents in everywhere, especially where it is not wanted. So it came as a surprise to everyone when he remained silent.

X-x-X

Walter and Cabe watch the scene in front of them from a safe distance away. They were silent for all of a minute before Cabe spoke, breaking the comfortable silence.

"So, what was that earlier with Paige?" he questioned, although, it felt more like and interrogation than a friendly question.

"She was upset, and I did my best comfort her." That was all he said, knowing Cabe would pick apart anything he said. Cabe saw something between the two of them the Walter didn't ; one of the cons of having an extremely low E.Q.

"Just friends, huh?" he pushed.

"Cabe," he warned in reply.

Nothing else was said. They both stood there, watching how Ralph sat there silently for a while. The whole time, he only spoke once or twice. When Paige and Ralph stood to leave, both Walter and Cabe moved out of sight into their vehicles and drove away.

X-x-X

Nothing much had changed between them. They have been a little closer at times, more physical contact every once in a while, more lust filled looks between them. But other than that, they were no different.

It was three weeks later and she still had nightmares about that day. But then she would think about how he smelled, like musk and apple, how the ghosting of his lips and words lingered on her collarbone long after it happened, think about how his lips felt on her forehead when he gently kissed it. She would think about how he felt under her hands, about how he held her back protectively. She was grateful none of the others had mentioned anything to her about it, especially in front of him. She was trying to figure out what IT was.

And so was he.