AN: Hey! This is my first ever Fanfiction—but I'm such a huge Waige shipper that I wanted to try it out! Would love to hear from you. :)

Walter groaned lightly, careful not to let anyone in the garage overhear. He had proclaimed to anyone who asked—and they did, multiple times a day—that he was fine. But he knew that there were prying ears everywhere, waiting for a sign of distress so that they could rush to his aid.

It was…embarrassing. Walter thought he could overcome his injuries by sheer force of will, some kind of mind over matter, especially with his genius intellect. And yet the aching muscles and painful bruises remained as a daily reminder of his stupidity and recklessness.

Walter felt like a child. After his car accident, simple things—walking up the stairs, taking a shower—seemed like Herculean feats of strength. Forget his more complex projects; holding up his arms to work on his rocket or write on a whiteboard would likely have killed him.

But he pushed through, refusing to show his newfound weakness to the team. Especially Paige. In the week since he left the hospital, she had walked on eggshells around him, careful not to bring up anything that wasn't directly related to running Scorpion. Careful not to touch him, which pained him more than he would accept or admit. Occasionally she would hold his arm to help him into a chair or force him to eat, but it felt hesitant, like he would break with the slightest pressure. He was desperate for things to go back to normal, before Cabe's secret was exposed, before Ralph put himself in danger, before he drove off a cliff and nearly lost everything.

Walter pushed his thoughts aside and struggled with the task at hand—fastening the button on his pants. Nothing made Walter feel more useless than not being able to dress himself. He groaned again, breathing labored and ragged, and clenched his hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

There was a light knock at the door that he immediately identified as Paige's. "Walter?" she asked quietly. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he responded by default. "Do you need something?"

"Well…" Paige cleared her throat and stayed silent for a moment. He knew that claiming he was 'fine' was the wrong response—she saw through it. "Cabe just arrived and he's got something for you to look over. Are you okay to come downstairs?"

"Yes," he snapped, trying to steady his breath. "I'll be down in a minute."

She let out a small sigh and Walter found himself wondering what she was thinking. "Okay then."

Walter felt a brief sensation of relief at the end of her questioning, but he quickly realized that he wouldn't be in any shape to meet Cabe if he couldn't get dressed, which would likely take him much longer than he anticipated. "Paige, wait," he called out to the door.

He hadn't expected her to still be there, but she must have lingered outside because after a second he saw the knob turn slowly.

"Yes, what-." Paige stopped in her tracks and placed her hand on her mouth in surprise. "I am so sorry, Walter."

Walter followed her gaze and realized that he was still shirtless, having not gotten much farther than one article of clothing. He noticed a blush creeping onto Paige's cheeks and felt his own face start to flush. The way she was looking at his body, while clearly shocked, was not altogether unpleasant.

"I, um…" Walter began, causing Paige's eyes to snap back to his. He let out a small chuckle in an attempt to ease the building tension he suspected they were both feeling. "I could use some help," he finished, motioning to the shirt and tie he had folded on the dresser next to him.

Her body eased slightly, and she took a few steps toward him. She looked at the folded clothes and then the pants he was wearing, exhaling slowly as if she wasn't sure what else to do. "Do you need me to-?"

"Yes," he said, trying to keep his voice matter-of-fact but cringing that he had ever invited her into the loft. If he had been thinking clearly, he would have requested Cabe's help—uncomfortable still, to be sure, but significantly less stressful.

Paige didn't look at him as she gently pulled his waistband and circled around to fasten the button on his pants. Her fingers grazed his skin, sending shocks through him, and he involuntarily tensed up at the contact.

"Sorry," she murmured, pulling her hands away. The feeling faded and he found himself oddly disappointed. Paige was looking down, avoiding his eyes, but they were close—close enough that he could hear her shallow breaths and notice the different colors in the strands of hair falling around her face. He urged himself to look away, but his body refused to comply. To lose control over his own body—his movements, his senses, his thoughts—was a wholly foreign concept before he met Paige; now, it was becoming a pretty regular occurrence.

She was unfolding his button-down shirt and Walter drew in a breath, preparing himself for her touch again. He felt as if he was holding his breath every time she was near him—it was illogical, exhausting, and yet, somehow, completely enthralling.

"Hold out your arms," Paige instructed, circling around to face his back. He felt the immediate loss of her warmth and tried not to let it distract him. Lifting his arms, even to the slight degree needed, agitated the healing wound in his side, but he was careful not to display any markers of pain.

Paige's hand grazed his as she pulled his sleeves over one arm, then the other. The contact was too brief, but he knew that was deliberate; she took him tensing up earlier as a sign of discomfort, which, he supposed, was better than her knowing the true underlying cause.

Her palm smoothed the shirt over his shoulders, causing him to gulp. Walter was sure that the pounding in his heart could be heard throughout the entire garage, but Paige didn't appear to notice. She simply came back around to secure the buttons on the front of his shirt. Walter secretly wished she was doing the opposite.

As she reached the top and straightened his collar, Walter realized how uncharacteristically quiet Paige was. He was worried he had offended her in some way—he didn't have to time to analyze how, exactly—and thought carefully about what to say.

"Thank you for your help," he said eventually. Gratitude was never unappreciated by Paige. "I'm sure I'll be back to normal soon."

He tried to sound lighthearted, but the expression on Paige's face told him that she didn't believe him. She looked at him for a long second, hands stilling on his black tie. Then she shook her head, as if she thought better of something, and focused on knotting the fabric around his neck.

But Walter, even with his limited—but growing—EQ, could tell that Paige was holding back. He was afraid to hear what she had to say, but realized that it would gnaw at him if he was left to run his own scenarios in his head. He weighed the pros and cons briefly before deciding it was better to hear it from her. "You were going to say something."

"It's not important."

Surprising even himself, Walter laid his hand over hers while she straightened out his tie. Paige stared at their conjoined hands for a moment before gazing up at him questioningly. Her soft skin temporarily chased the words from his mind, but she was clearly expecting a response so he cleared his throat and attempted to focus.

"Humor me." Internally, Walter knew that he needed to let Paige's hand go, but the pain racing through his abdomen and signals from his brain that screamed about the lack of professionalism he was displaying were outweighed by the feeling of comfort and intimacy that holding her hand allowed him. It was selfish, likely; dangerous, definitely; but every moment that she went without extracting herself from his grip gave him a small spark of confidence.

"We don't need to talk about it," she let out a forced laugh that made his stomach twist. He wanted the real thing. "It's…emotional."

"I'm not-." Walter swallowed his words and winced as a singeing pain seared through his body. He caught his breath and tried again. "I'm not so bad at that as I used to be, you know."

Paige smiled, more naturally this time. Her hand was still pressed against his chest, but both of them were studiously ignoring its presence. If she couldn't hear his heart beating, he was sure she could feel it—but perhaps she would chalk it up to a side effect of his injuries.

"I know," she said. Walter could see the wheels turning in her head as she carefully chose her words. "But what I'm thinking is illogical. I already know what you'll say—that I'm worrying about something that didn't happen and dwelling on it is illogical. If I can anticipate your contribution to the conversation, then it's inefficient to have it, right?"

Walter was caught off guard by the terms Paige used—words he used with some frequency to justify avoiding activities that he viewed as a waste of time. But he wanted—tried hard—to connect with Paige. To be different with her. He hoped she recognized his efforts, stilted as they may be.

"Not every conversation has to be efficient," he said slowly, tightening his fingers around Paige's, only half consciously. "If you want to talk, then we can…talk."

He anxiously awaited Paige's reaction, and the seconds that followed felt like an eternity in Walter's jumbled mind. He felt a surge of disappointment when she slid her hand out from his grip, which was cut off quickly when she pressed her palm against his and intertwined their fingers, maintaining their position. His relief was palpable.

"I think about losing you," Paige said suddenly, focusing intently on her fingers, which were moving gently back and forth over his knuckles. "I think about a reality where you didn't make it off that cliff. A reality where Scorpion is gone and Ralph and I are back to the life we had before."

"But I did make it," he replied, understanding what she meant about her fears being illogical. "And you and Ralph will always have a place here, you know that."

"I know," she said again, finally bringing her eyes up to look at him. Her hands were still, and while Walter missed their movement, he was grateful for anything he could get. "But I keep thinking about every little thing that could have gone differently. If Cabe hadn't reached you in time—if Ralph and I hadn't seen the news report and I'd gotten on that plane—" She sighed deeply. "There are a million other universes in which we aren't standing here right now."

"We'll talk about the concept of other universes another time—" Walter gave her a disapproving look, which caused her to giggle, "—but right now, we're in this universe, and we are standing here right now. I didn't die and you didn't move to Portland." He felt a sense of internal relief over the last statement, and even though he knew those outcomes were not inherently equal, at the time, they had almost seemed that way to him. "I know I'm not an expert on living in the moment—probably on living, in general—but I know this is something you advocate and therefore should attempt to do."

Paige's smile grew wider and Walter found himself smiling back at her. Her grin turned mischievous and he suddenly dreaded what was coming next. "What would you do right now if there were no consequences, Walter?"

Walter felt himself tense up at her question. "Consequences are all I can think about…ever. Decisions. Outcomes."

Paige pressed her lips together and cocked her head to the side, studying him. He felt more exposed under her gaze than he had when he was shirtless. Eventually, she said "You're right. That was an unfair question for you. But…" Walter forced himself to breath when Paige reached up and raked her free hand through his hair, grazing his scalp. Things were taking a dangerous turn. "You were right about the other things too. You're not dead. I'm here. And if I preach about living in the moment, then…I should probably live it, right?"

"Right," he choked out, unsure what he was agreeing to.

"Right," she repeated. Before he had time to fully analyze the new direction she was taking their conversation, she had put her weight on her toes and pressed her lips gently against his. The contact startled him, but Paige was taking it in stride, keeping her hands completely still and allowing him to focus solely on the kiss. They stayed like that for a moment, until Walter relaxed and leaned in, moving his hands down to her lower back and pulling her closer. He could feel her smile against his mouth as she deepened the kiss, careful not to overwhelm him with too much at once. Everything around them disappeared and the only thing that mattered was her, the person she was, the way she understood him. The fears that he carried about her—usually looming, daunting, overwhelming—faded away quickly.

Walter couldn't quantify happiness, but he imagined it felt similar to that moment.

In time, Paige pulled away and looked into his eyes, exuding the same sense of lightness that he felt. He wanted more, more of her, but he allowed himself a moment to catch his breath, keeping his hands pressed against her back.

"What was that for?"

Paige just smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You said to live in the moment."

"That, um, that I did," he answered with a chuckle. "Good moment?"

"Great moment," Paige replied and touched her hand to his cheek. "I know this might be a lot to process-."

"It's okay," Walter cut her off. "I wasn't…uh…expecting it. But," He gave her a pointed look. "I think, with some…practice, I could figure it out."

"I think I could too." Paige looked over his shoulder and giggled. "You were supposed to meet Cabe forever ago."

Walter groaned as he remembered the Homeland Security agent waiting downstairs to talk to him. He wondered how he could possibly push aside everything he was experiencing to focus on work.

He looked down at Paige, who still had one hand in his and another back in his hair. "He didn't have an urgent case, did he? Any kidnappings or terrorist threats?"

She shrugged and shook her head. "Didn't seem like we needed to save the world today."

"Good. Then he can wait," Walter said, before wrapping his arms around Paige's waist and bringing her into another kiss.