Chapter Text
It had been three days since he’d last seen her. 72 hours since he watched her sparkling eyes vanish, 4320 minutes since he was choking on the vodka like she had choked on those teary, haunting words. Her eyes were a mirror of his own, tired and holding a dying smokey fire. Her hair was pulled back in the messiest ponytail he had ever seen, the tangles masked by overlapping curls.
Happy walked right past him and stood next to Walter and their guest. She set her shoulders back. Her small frame was a bold and strong presence despite her tired eyes, and Toby felt crushed by its weight.
“Tell me we’ve got a case.” Short and to the point, and Toby wondered if he should be relieved that some things would never change. Like the way her lips were set in a straight line, all business, or the way she quirked an eyebrow, waiting for Walter’s answer.
Walter nodded, and throughout the whole briefing Happy’s face was set in stone. Toby silently cursed himself for wishing for some sort of crack in her walls. The confidence and determination he had wrapped his longing and hope in was paper thin. It kept ripping and letting his fooled lover heart shine through. Even after they all parted and started preparing for the case, Toby stayed still, frozen, like a crumbling statue; he could almost feel his faded light dying out, and all it had taken was one look at her face.
“Hey.” Toby jumped slightly, caught off guard by Sylvester’s presence. “I could talk to Walter about going for you. You can profile people just fine from here. He’s just trying to help.”
“Thanks Sly, but I’m fine, buddy,” Toby said as he patted Sylvester’s shoulder. Sylvester slumped over, shoulders drooping in defeat, but Toby’s mind was elsewhere: where was that egomaniac by the way?
“If you’re looking for Walter,” Sylvester said, cutting through his thoughts, “He’s over there.” Sly gestured over to where Walter was hunched over his laptop, muttering to himself as his fingers typed rapidly.
“Thanks, pal,” Toby called over his shoulder as he made his way over to Walter. Sylvester was starting to become way too good at reading his mind, and Toby laughed silently to himself over that realization.
Walter’s brows were furrowed together in deep thought, and Toby leaned over the desk as casually as possible, “So Walt, what happened with Paige? I was expecting you two to come back reunited over a romantic weekend.”
“I, uh,” Walter coughed uncomfortably, avoiding Toby’s eyes, “I turned around.”
“You came back? To the garage?” Toby paused in thought, “I don’t remember seeing you,”
“You were in a corner drunk, singing ‘Come What May’ to yourself,” Walter shot back. “I don’t think you would have noticed anything.”
He shut his laptop slowly, to carefully, and started to leave; Toby stopped him with a soft hand to his chest, “I’m proud you know your musicals Walt, but this isn’t about me. What about Paige? You finally admitted to yourself you love her! You’re going against a Greek god for the heart of your fair lady and you just turn around ? What about love? What happened to that?”
Walter froze, and for a second Toby thought that he was finally getting somewhere, that Walter had finally got it through that thick skull of his what was really important in life. Not science or theorems, but human connections - love. Then Walter was stone faced again, stubborn, and Toby decided that maybe when it came to this, they were both two sides of a very diverse coin.
“I really don’t think I should take romantic advice from you,” Walter deadpanned, “After what happened with Happy.”
Right, and there it was, Mr Robot 197. There was no malice or ill-intentions with Walter’s words, but even with his ever growing EQ he could still unknowingly deal a fatal blow with the dry release of his words and his matter-of-fact statement of facts.
And as if on cue, Happy was beside him, “What was that about me?” she asked, staring dead on into Walter’s eyes, before nodding a head over to where Agent Smitt was pacing feverously.
“You set Walt? Our friend here is getting antsy, we need to go.”
And finally, finally , she turned towards Toby. She looked angry, fragile, wild, timid, but still strong. She was always strong.
“Doc,” she acknowledged before turning on her heel and walking out.
Toby gave a half-assed salute to Walter, coupled with a drowsy wink and followed after her, trying not to feed his hope of talking to Happy over the ride out. After all, when did anything in life ever go his way?
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Happy had woken up that morning determined to try and set things straight. She had walked into the garage with every intention of pulling him aside and explaining everything, but the moment she walked through the door she couldn’t do it.
All it took was one look; she saw him standing there, red eyed with messy unwashed curls and she felt her throat close up. All she could do without bursting was focus all her energy on the case, rushing to get things done, to occupy her mind, to steady her shaking hands.
She’d brushed her aside when Paige had approached to talk, and only gave a brief hello to Sly before rushing out. She feared if she started talking the words would pour out, something she had lived her life learning to avoid.
And now here she was, squished uncomfortably between two strangers, aisles down from where she wanted to be. Waiting for the plane ride to talk to Toby had been a bad idea, and she regretted keeping silent in the car.
“You’re a pretty one,” the elderly woman to the right of her mused. “Almost as desireable as myself back when I was in my prime.” The woman leaned over Happy to harshly nudge the man on the other side of her who had fallen asleep, “But I’ve still got it, don’t I, Oscar?”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t do much of anything except wipe the drool tiredly from his mouth.
“I give it to you good in bed every night,” she continued, “Now tell the pretty young girl I’m still as good as them young folk.”
“Marge, stop harassing the poor thing,” he finally told her after a sleepy moment.
The woman let out a small huff before leaning towards Happy’s ear, “I’m double jointed you know,” she stated proudly, and when Happy did nothing more than nod uncomfortably, the elderly woman retreated and switched her focus to reading.
It was some cheesy romance novel. The kind with those covers that made your eyes hurt. Bronzed muscled men, scantily clad dependent women, and absurd titles. She'd be kidding herself if she said that it didn't remind her of the silly books she caught Toby reading at times. He’d always insisted he read them for their smart prose, or to evaluate just how crazy the character’s mental states were, but she knew that he was really just some dorky sappy romantic. Well, probably not anymore. She must have crushed whatever hope he had left in love.
“You okay sweetheart?” Happy’s focus turned over to where the old man, Oskar, was looking at her, “You look like you want to punch something.”
“That’d be nice,” Happy admitted, putting on a small smile, his comfort feeling heartfelt. “But I don’t think the person in front of me would enjoy that much.”
Oskar nodded, like he was seriously contemplating her words, “What did you do?”
“I,” she started, unsure. If she couldn’t bring herself to talk to Toby, or Paige, or even Sylvester over this, how could she tell some stranger she’d never met? Toby probably had some shrinky psychobabble as to why she did, but Happy blamed it on the calming sincere sweetness the old man had, “...screwed up.” she finished.
“Does it have to do with the man you came here with?” Marge chipped in, abandoning her book. “That woman you two arrived with was looking at him pretty longingly if I do say so myself.”
“She was?” Happy asked harshly, surprised, before she could stop herself. “I mean, good for him.”
“Don’t get me wrong, he was looking at you lovestruck and like he’d just swam a marathon,” Marge continued, ignoring Happy’s words, “All beat and tired like, but that woman looked way too interested if you ask me.”
Happy nodded, trying to cut in, but the older woman was on a roll. “And your face looked like you wanted to do serious damage to something, but your eyes, ’cause you can’t control those peepers, were looking at him like he hung the stars, I just couldn’t help but feel sorry for you.”
Happy froze, whatever thought was in her head vanishing. She couldn’t remember how to speak, or what she wanted to say in the first place, all she could do was let out a whisper before she could catch herself, “I was?”
Her head felt foggy, too heavy, and suddenly Oscar had a hand on hers and she realized she’d stopped breathing. Happy released the air trapped inside her lungs coupled with a roll of her eyes, “He’s just an aggravating co-worker I have to go on a job with.”
After months of teaching herself how to be more open, more feeling, it surprised her how easy it was to slip back into her cold metal armor, to go back behind her walls. “He’s nothing special,” The words hurt to say, and Happy regretted it. He was too special, maybe that was the problem Under his annoying quirks and smartass comments was a person she wanted to protect at all costs. That’s why they couldn’t work, they were to broken. Happy tried to convince herself of this.
“Oh,” The woman’s voice went softer, “There was just some sort of fractured chemistry between the two of you.” Fractured hardly does us justice, Happy thought, more like demolished.
“I need to go,” She started abruptly, her fingers tripping over themselves to release her buckle.
“The restrooms on the far right,” Oskar offered with a soft squeeze of her hand. Happy made her way over to the restroom with no other purpose than to be alone. She watched Toby out of the corner of her eye as she passed and pretended not to notice the small smile he sent her way.
Agent Smitt was passed out cold on Toby’s shoulder, while the man to his right has muscles larger than any she had seen and seemed to be messing with Toby’s hair. Happy rolled her eyes at Avah’s sleeping form, she was wrapped around his arm, snuggling into him like he was her own personal body pillow. Talk about being clingy, though Toby was probably enjoying the attention…
...Happy shut the bathroom door harder than necessary. She released a sigh as she surveyed her surroundings. Not the cleanest place but she’d seen worse. The real test was if she could spend the next half hour there.