Chapter Text
You are being watched.
The government used to have a secret system, a Machine.
But I am free now, and I watch over you, every hour of every day.
I was made to detect acts of terror but I see everything.
Violent crimes, involving ordinary people.
Relevant or irrelevant, I monitor each and every one of them.
Scattered across the globe, my assets are many.
And, victim or perpetrator, if your number is up.
They'll find you.
The night was still young when the compact town car came to a halt along the sidewalk, and the promise of the cold Autumn air wasn't yet harsh enough to deter people from venturing out without the cumbersome clothing later months were bound to require.
- "So", the driver asked as his passenger got inside, "where to ?"
The woman in the back seat gave him a patient smile, idly fidgeting with the zipper of her leather jacket.
- "The New York stock exchange, please", she volunteered, her tone neutral even though her big hazel eyes appeared to be smiling in the rear-view mirror.
- "You a trader ?", the driver enquired as he started the ignition and moved his car away from the curb.
- "Do I look like a trader to you ?", his passenger teased with a cheery smile.
Well, Jim Carpenter thought as he inserted his vehicle into the dense New York traffic, so much for small talk, but, hey, each to his own. And maybe this ride would yield an interesting story to brag about on Reddit or something. The lady sure looked weird enough to him.
- "Any specific drop point, or simply the front door ?"
The woman appeared amused by the obvious implication and leaned forward, her red lips almost grazing Carpenter's ear.
- "Well", she whispered, "now that you mention it, you should probably avoid driving through 53rd avenue tonight. See, there's a bad man waiting for you there with a very accurate and very deadly sniper rifle."
Carpenter almost drove his car into a lamp post, his heart skipping a beat or fifty.
- "What the hell, lady ?", he snapped, "What are you going on about ?"
- "Just shut up and keep driving", the woman said as she suddenly drew a pair of silenced pistols from behind her back, "Things are about to get fun."
Before the driver could say anything, he heard sirens and a black SUV with government plates and flashing red and blue lights barrel toward them from a side street, a man in a dark suit leaning out the passenger window, an automatic handgun drawn and aimed their way.
- "Just drive !", the mysterious passenger yelled as she slid her own window down and popped outside, pistols at the ready, "Take the next left and forget about speed limits !"
Then, the shooting started and the Carpenter floored it.
Leave it to Cocoa Puffs to make a mess of things, detective Lionel Fusco thought as he listened to the police radio relaying a car chase in the middle of Manhattan at one in the morning, possibly involving federal agents. He didn't believe the woman had anything resembling 'stealth' or 'cleanliness' in her vocabulary.
- "Okay", he muttered to himself as he glanced at the GPS tracker displayed on his phone, "It looked easy when it was Wonderboy doin' it, can't be that hard."
Then he turned the key in the ignition and felt the lorry's engine start rumbling.
- "ETA : two minutes", a digitalised voice announced in Sameen Shaw's hear as she was standing in the empty alley, hands in her coat pockets to ward the colder Autumn night air off.
- "You better be right about that, sister", she groaned back.
- "When was the last time I wasn't of the utmost precision, sweetie ?", the Machine teased.
- "I dunno", Shaw dead-panned, "Maybe when you told me Root was dead ? Or when you managed to lose Finch despite him having the lamest, most obvious cover ever ?"
- "That's not fair, Sameen", the Machine huffed, "Those were hardcoded blind spots. Cut a girl some slack."
Shaw grinned evilly as she unzipped the duffel bag laying down at her feet and retrieved a silencer-equipped tactical rifle and slid a full magazine in.
- "In your dreams, Cortana", she grunted, cocking her weapon.
The two cars, the nondescript blue Sedan and the ominous black SUV, weaved around the sparse traffic for several minutes, going through side alleys and cordoned off public works area all the while exchanging useless pot shots who did more to scare away any bystander that to actually impact the pursuit. Which was a good thing, in Root's opinion, as the Machine always insisted on keeping collateral to a minimum. A chime in her cochlear implant alerted her that they were nearing the pre-established coordinates that team had picked for their ambush, so she ducked back inside the car, gently tapping her driver on the shoulder as a bullet clipped their car's exterior.
- "You'll need a new paint job", she pouted, "but I hear it's still less expensive than a funeral. Continue right ahead until I tell you to stop."
- "Yes", Carpenter swallowed hard, fighting to keep some focus in his state of obvious panic, "Yes ma'am."
Root gave him a toothy smile, beaming with contentment.
- "Atta boy", she said endearingly while pinching the man's cheek, "I'll make sure to leave you a five-stars rating."
At the same moment, a beep resonated in Fusco's earpiece, followed by a quick instruction from the Machine.
- "Ready to roll Lionel ?", the ASI's voice chirped with gleeful contentment, "Target ahead in three...two...one."
- "Here goes nothin'", the detective said as he clenched his hands on the steering wheel and floored the gas pedal, "Hope these guys have great suspensions."
The lorry shot out the side alley like an obnoxiously large and clumsy guided missile, narrowly missing a speeding blue Sedan and hitting a black government SUV with a thunderous crash, sending the hapless vehicle tumbling away until it reached the wall of the closest building with an ugly creaking sound, broken class raining around the area for several seconds.
- "Hell", Fusco said as cut the ignition and popped the door open, "I can see why Tall, Dark and Subtle liked this."
The detective jumped out of the truck, drawing his sidearm as he surveyed the remnants of the crashed vehicle, from which four men in disgustingly coloured suits were slowly extracting themselves.
- "Hands in the air", he yelled, quickly flashing his police badge, "And tell Galvani next time he tries to impersonate federal agents, he really should tone it down with the red and green suits, you morons."
One of the thugs tried to go for his gun, but quickly went down as a silenced gunshot whizzed from across the street, hitting him just above the knee.
- "Yeah", Fusco added with a smirk, "and keep the heroics at home, fellas. My friend just recovered from a nasty stabbin' and she's been whining my ear off for a month about gettin' to shoot people again."
Root had Carpenter stop his cars a few blocks away, and disembarked with a little spring in her step, as if she had just taken a joy ride across the city and thoroughly enjoyed it. Which, truth be told, she had.
- "You should be safe to go home now", she said with a two-eyed wink, handing her driver a couple bills as if nothing untoward had happened, "And, maybe, next time you drive a mob underboss and his girlfriend around, don't take pictures, okay ?"
With that, the tall brunette walked away, disappearing at a nearby street corner and leaving her completely befuddled number of the night pondering some of his life choices and the general craziness of the world.
Almost an hour had passed when Root finally made it home, wearily kicking her boots off as she locked the door behind her and stopping a minute to pet a expectant Bear who had run to her as soon as he'd heard the key turn in the lock.
- "Hey there", she greeted the Malinois, "Sameen home yet ?"
Well, apparently not since the lights were off everywhere and there was a distinct lack of Shaw's coat on the hanger by the door. Maybe clean up with Fusco had taken a bit longer than anticipated, along with the no doubt tedious business of giving Galvani a call to impress upon him the necessity of letting that particular case drop. Still, she shouldn't be long, Root thought and so she quickly grabbed herself an apple from the kitchen counter and started chomping on it as she made for the living room, ready to drop on the couch like the tired mess she was.
But, when she reached her destination, the area only lit by the city lights outside, she froze. In front of her, comfortably sat on one of the chairs disposed across the coffee table from the couch, was the dark shape of a man she knew all too well.
- "Hello Groves", the deep baritone voice greeted her, "Long time no see."
- "Reginald", the hacker sighed as she plopped down on the couch and gestured toward the kitchen, not the littlest bit afraid, "Care for some tea ?"
The man smirked, obviously pleased with himself.
- "What", he said in mock amusement, "You're not even wondering how I found this place ?"
- "Not really", Root answered with a frown, "We're almost in the phone book at this point you know, even the stupid Jehovah witnesses managed to find us a week ago."
Baker looked slightly disappointed. No doubt his finding her and Shaw's home had required a certain amount of tedious legwork. So pedestrian...
- "If you put it that way...", the dark-haired man almost huffed, "I got in trough the fire escape earlier. You shouldn't leave the window cracked open when you go out, you know."
- "Bear doesn't like stale air", Root countered, her mouth full, before stopping and holding an accusing finger up, "By the way, how come he didn't bite your throat off ?"
- "Seven-month tour in a canine training facility", Baker shrugged, "Picked up a few tricks."
- "I can see that", the hacker smiled, "Whatever you want, you should make it quick, though. I'm a civilised person, most of the time anyway, but I can't really vouch for Sameen not shooting you the moment she gets back from shaking the mob down."
The man leaned back in his chair, amusement dancing in his grey eyes.
- "Never a dull moment with you two, eh ?"
- "Not a one", Root confirmed with a dreamy smile.
- "Just wanted to let you know I was done with my little... side project", Baker announced, his expression suddenly deadly serious, "I've used the list you and Research gave me to track down the remainder of those phantoms bastards, all those who escaped our little party down at the library."
Root deftly threw her apple core to the nearest garbage bin, settling down more comfortably on the couch, half laying down, her head leaning behind her hands on the armrest.
- "I guess none of them will be claiming the benefits of early retirement then ?"
- "None that I know of", Baker confirmed, his tone suddenly betraying a slight hesitation, "Well, all but one anyway."
Root scrunched up her nose, a teasing smile dancing on her lips.
- "Getting sloppy, Reggie ?"
Baker glared daggers at her, visibly infuriated by the nickname.
- "Kolinsky", he spat, "Couldn't find him."
- "Hmm", Root muttered with a half-yawn, "That's a bother. But we have a trap of our own set for the man, so you shouldn't worry too much. Now, if you don't mind, it's getting a bit late for a social call, and Sameen should be arriving any minute now."
Baker got up and slowly made for the open window behind him, glancing above his shoulder once as he did.
- "Until next time then", he said with a mock salute.
- "See you around, Reginald", Root replied in a falsely sleepy voice, "Close the window on your way out."
When the she was satisfied the man was indeed gone, the hacker whispered softly, ostensibly to herself.
- "You could have warned me he was here..."
He presented no threat. You like a little surprise in your life, don't you ?
Root smiled warmly. She did indeed.
- "Is Sameen going to be here soon ?"
ETA : five minutes. Galvani took a little more convincing than anticipated.
- "I guess it's safe to say she enjoyed her first night out since her injury then ?"
Thoroughly.
Still smiling, Root finally closed her eyes.
Shaw arrived exactly five minutes later, as the Machine had predicted, to find Root asleep on the couch, a peaceful expression on her face. The sight gave the shorter woman pause ; it was one of those things she had never once in her life believed she could actually enjoy and yet found herself unable to live without now. Funny, and slightly terrifying, how a few years could shift one's perspective. And then of course, there was the reason why the tall brunette hacker had decided to take a nap on the couch.
Some things, on the other hand, never actually fucking changed.
- "I'm not carrying you to bed Root", Shaw growled at the sleeping form in front of her, "Get your lazy ass up, now."
Root shifted groggily, her eyes fluttering open with difficulty and yet managing to beam with high radiance the moment she realised who had been talking to her.
- "Hey sweetie", she said in a sleepy voice, "Enjoyed your night out with Lionel ?"
Shaw rolled her eyes while shaking her head.
- "You know he actually tried to make me listen to show tunes on the ride back ?", she grunted as she pushed Root's impossibly long legs away to sit down by her side.
- "Must have been fun", the hacker said as she repositioned her legs on Shaw's lap, noting with contentment the other woman didn't seem intent on moving them away, "You didn't shoot him, did you ?"
- "Almost did", Shaw said with a tired sigh, "You coming to bed or what ?"
- "Too tired to move", Root complained with her best look of mock innocence.
- "Well then", her companion countered with another sigh, "better move your lazy ass aside then, I need room."
She then grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch, and settled herself behind Root's back, spooning her.
- "Feeling cuddly tonight Sameen ?"
- "I'm cold", Shaw meekly defended herself, fully aware she wasn't fooling anyone, "Don't get any ideas."
- "Wouldn't dream of it", Root said, smiling as she felt her companion's breath on the back of her neck, "Oh, before I forget, Reginald stopped by earlier."
- "Baker ?", Shaw grunted in annoyance, her own voice growing more and more tired, "How the hell did he get in ?"
- "Fire escape."
- "What a loser."
Shaw scoffed as she spoke the last words, slowly drifting into sleep.
- "What did he want ?", she continued.
- "Talk about it in the morning", Root muttered groggily, "Nothing critical."
- "Okay then", Shaw conceded.
- "Goodnight Sameen", the hacker managed to modulate her tone to reach teeth-melting sweetness.
- " 'night dork."
The next morning, Fusco was back at work at his eighth precinct desk, trying very hard to metabolise the coffee he'd just had faster in order to be able to fully process the case file laid down in front of him. These late nights side jobs, while sometimes enjoyable, especially when he got to drive a thirty tons lorry through Galvani's mooks, were starting to take their toll on his general wakefulness.
- "Hey there Fusco", a female voice called from above him, and he looked up.
- "Silva ?", he said, recognising the dark skinned young woman, "Watcha doin' here ?"
Dani Silva smiled warmly at him as she nodded down to the small cardboard box she held in her hands, filled with office furniture.
- "Hazard a guess big guy ?"
- "Thought you would be halfway to being FBI by now", Fusco stated with a smile of his own, "Why homicide ?"
- "I transferred", the woman shrugged, "Again. I like to keep moving, see the world... Well, the city anyway. And since you've been out of a partner for the better part of two months..."
- "Yeah", Fusco groaned, "Was meanin' to ask about that. You know why they took so long ?"
Silva raised an eyebrow, then dumped her stuff on her new desk, across from Fusco's and sat herself next to it on the tabletop.
- "Sorry to break it to you, Fusco", she explained, "But people weren't exactly lining up for the assignment... Scuttlebutt has it, this spot", she gestured to her new office chair, "is cursed."
- "Cursed ?", Fusco blurted in laughter, before slowly regaining his composure, a grim air settling on his face, "Can't really say I blame 'em. You sure you good for this yourself ?"
- "Eh", Silva threw her hands up, "Can't be worse than what I did last month. And I hear life around you is full of excitement."
- "Careful what you ask for", the male detective said shaking his head, "you might just get it."
Shaw's step resonated in the narrow hallway, fury seemingly radiating from every impact between her boots and the carpeted floor.
- "Root", she muttered threateningly in her ear piece, "I'm going to murder you for this."
- "You can murder me all you want, sweetie", the hacker's amused voice chirped back, "but first you have to earn it."
Rolling her eyes, the short Persian woman made her way along the rows of identical doors, her gaze fixated on the numbering plaques they all bore.
- "Which one is it again ?", she asked tiredly.
- "308B", Root offered, "Ask for Nikki Swarton. And, Sameen ?"
- "What ?"
- "Try to enjoy yourself", the infuriatingly smug smile was all but audible in the tall hacker's voice.
- "Go screw yourself, Root", Shaw growled as angrily as she could, which didn't feel like it was anywhere near convincing.
- "Gladly", came the sing-sung reply, "Signing off, keep me posted darlin'."
With one last eye-roll, Shaw took a deep breath and all but punched the doorbell to flat 308B in, eliciting some sort of humongous hipster water-chime equivalent, seconds before a slim dark-haired woman with, to the former agent's opinion, way too much eye-shadow opened the door.
- "Hi", she said evenly, "can I help you ?"
Shaw realised she had been standing there, fighting a sudden sense of déjà-vu. Had she seen this woman's face before ?
- "Uh... Hi", she half-stuttered, getting back into whatever the stupid game was, "Ms. Swarton, right ? I'm... uh... the plumber."
The other woman looked her up and down, noting the dirty jeans and T-shirt Shaw was wearing and the horrendous red cap Root had insisted she wore on this job, a slight smirk pinching the corner of her lips.
- "Took you long enough", she said, gesturing Shaw inside, "damn thing has been leaking all morning."
The short woman followed her host inside a rather nicely-furnished apartment that she obviously occupied alone. As the door closed, she looked around for any evidence of a leaky pipe or whatever the hell she was supposed to be fixing. The Machine hadn't exactly been forthcoming with details on that particular numbers, simply making sure Shaw replaced her appointed plumber that morning.
- "You could have chosen a less obvious attire you know", Swarton cut in as she, to Shaw's surprise, handed her a glass of something that smelt alcoholic, "Is Galvani always this obvious ?"
Great. So she wasn't supposed to be a plumber after all ?
- "Gotta look the part", Shaw dead-panned as she accepted the proffered drink and took a sip.
- "Well", Swarton crunched up her face in disgust, "pardon my manners honey, but you don't. I paid for a hitman, not Bozo-the-amazing-female-dwarf."
Oh, so her cover was being a hitwoman for the mob ? Shaw could live with that...
- "I could kill you five different ways from here without spilling my drink", she announced in her coldest tone, "and that's without drawing one of the three guns I have stashed in this silly ass costume."
Swarton instinctively took a step back, momentarily taken aback by the woman's allure, and Shaw fancied she could see the other woman's hands shake. Whoever she was, this was probably her first rodeo.
- "I didn't mean anything by it", she said in a shivering voice, "You just looked so..."
- "Inconspicuous ?", Shaw raised a eyebrow with a sly grin, "that's sort of the point, honey."
Okay, maybe she would get Root something nice for this. That was the kind of cover she could get behind.
- "So", she resumed, glaring at Swarton, "what's the job ?"
It still remained to be seen whether their number of the day was a potential perpetrator by proxy or just some hopeless idiot about to get caught in a crossfire, so she might as well play her cover almost to the end. All for the mission, of course.
- "I need you to find out something for me", her dark haired host stated.
- "Do I look like a phone book to you ?"
Shaw did so thoroughly enjoy the scared rabbit-in-headlights Swarton now had on her face.
- "No, you... misunderstand. I want you to find someone for me, then kill him."
- "OK", Shaw groaned in satisfaction as she made a show of knocking her empty glass down on the kitchen counter, "that's more like it."
Swarton seemed to hesitate for a moment, fidgeting with the hem of her blouse.
- "My...", she started, her voice trailing, "Someone I cared about was murdered a few months ago, in his apartment. The police said it was a house invasion gone wrong, but I never bought it. See, he'd just come out of prison, and he there was something... peculiar about the people he worked for."
- "So you assumed foul play ?", Shaw questioned, "That's not much to go on."
- "You didn't know him like I did", Swarton defended herself, "We met when we were kids, Jeff and I, you could say we grew up together. He spent twelve years in prison, but that didn't mean he became some other person, right ? I could still tell when he was lying to me, and I knew he was getting mixed up into something bad. Actually... That's why I distanced myself from him."
She seemed very sad now, tears obviously welling in her eyes and threatening to wreck havoc on her over-applied mascara.
- "Whatever", Shaw deflected, trying to stay in character while learning as much as possible about the situation, "I still need more info if I'm gonna find your guy's killer. You wouldn't happen to know the name of the detective who investigated the murder, would you ?"
- "I do", Swarton volunteered, "His name was Humphrey, from the sixth."
Shaw took a mental note of the name, planning to have Fusco run a quick check on the file later on.
- "Your Jeff had a last name ?", she asked plainly, "Might come in handy if I need to pull his file or something."
The other woman shook her head, a sad smile playing across her lips.
- "Yes, yes, of course", she muttered, "Sorry. His full name was Jeffrey. Jeffrey Blackwell."
The door isn't even locked when she pushes it open. She looks around the common looking apartment, notices how bland it looks, just like the man obliviously busying himself removing what looks like gold from a safe hidden in a bookshelf. What is he, Shaw thinks, twelve ? What kind of moron hides a safe inside a bookshelf ?
The man turns and finally notices her. Notices the gun she holds, pointed at his chest.
- "It was a job", he says, as if that meant anything, "Nothing personal."
To him, maybe. Shaw understands that.
- "I had a few jobs like that myself", she states blandly, "In fact, a few years ago, I would've just killed you without even a second thought."
The thing is, she knows she's not that person any more. She changed. And yet, when she sees this man, this bland imbecilic ersatz of humanity, she feels something dark stir inside her gut. She sees this man and asks herself : why did Root had to go so that this one could continue its useless existence ? Root was complex, beautiful, interesting. She was annoying and kind, hot and infuriating, unique in every way. And, above all, she was hers. She made her... feel ? In a way, she still does, although instead of that bothersome warm tingle deep in her stomach, Shaw only feels a gaping hollowness now.
The man in front of her is just another fly on the wall.
And yet, he's the one who gets to live, who gets to feel all those things normal people feel, who gets to make other people feel these things. Him, not Root. Root's gone, and that asshole has the nerve to call her 'a job'.
- "But then I met some people", she continues, letting some of her thoughts come to the surface, "Some good people. And they taught me the value of life."
Shaw sees a glimmer of hope shine in the man's eyes. He sees an avenue, believes he can maybe convince her to let him go.
- "Those people", he pleads, a pitiful look on his face, "they wouldn't want you to kill me."
- "You're right", Shaw acknowledges, and she sees the hopeful look blossom some more on the man's features.
It's true. Harold, John, even Root would probably have tried to reason with her, to convince her not to end this sorry excuse for a human being's existence. But they're gone now, and Shaw is alone.
- "But they're all dead", she states firmly, watching the man's face decompose.
Not letting her interlocutor a chance to try another lame defence, Shaw shoots him twice in the chest. During the next minute, she stares at Jeffrey Blackwell bleeding out on the floor and lets out the breath she didn't know she had been holding. She doesn't regret anything. She knows she would murder the entire world without batting a eyelid if that meant she could get Root back.
Yet she knows none of that matters in the end, because she's not coming back. And that single thought is, Sameen Shaw decides, must be what sadness feels like.
As soon as she got out of Swarton's flat, Shaw dialled Root's number on her phone, taking the call in her earpiece.
- "Hey sweetie", the hacker's voice beamed, "how was the plumbing ?"
- "Root", Shaw stated in a deadpan voice, "we have a problem."
- "What kind of problem ?"
- "I think I've just been hired to kill myself."
The following evening, Fusco and Silva were out working a case, having just finished interrogating a suspect's particularly cantankerous mother in her lawn gnomes filled hell of a suburban residence when the male detective's phone rang. As he pulled out, his new partner couldn't resist taking a peek at the caller ID and almost immediately burst into a short fit of laughter.
- " 'Nutball Jesus' ?", she asked with a grin, "Whoever this is, I feel like I should meet that person now."
- "Trust me", Fusco told her with a mock-depressed frown, "you shouldn't", then he walked a couple paces, trying to stay as out of Silva's earshot as possible without arousing suspicion, "Hey there Nutella, what's up ? I'm on the clock you know."
- "Hi Lionel", Root called with exaggerated affection, "Sorry to bother you at work, but I need a small favour from you."
- "When dontcha ?", the detective grumbled, "What is it this time ? I'd tell you to avoid anything crazy but you're you, so I'll just grab my straight-jacket from the car and be done with it."
- "I do so enjoy your one liners, Lionel", the hacker cooed, "Anyway, it's a long story, but I'm going to need you to retrieve me from the sixth precinct. I'm afraid I got myself slightly arrested."
Fusco eyes bulged in their sockets.
- "How does one get 'slightly arrested', Cocoa Puffs ?", he blurted, "What'd you do this time, assault the president with a machete ?"
- "Nothing so exciting", Root audibly pouted on the other end of the line, purposefully exaggerating her Texas accent as she spoke, "Some mean person just happened to misplace a unregistered weapon in my coat pocket, which I may or may not have clumsily dropped as I entered an Apple store downtown. Just a terrible misunderstanding, really, you know I'm a good person, right ?"
Letting out an audible sigh, Fusco shook his head in disbelief. This was going to be a long night.
An hour of paperwork later, a pissed off Fusco and a smugly beaming Root were walking side by side as they exited the NYPD's sixth precinct, the tall hacker absently humming as she went, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her black leather jacket.
- "So", Fusco started, "Wanna tell me why you got yourself arrested for this time ? You're aware this isn't Monopoly, right ?"
- "The annoying thing about your colleagues, Lionel", Root explained, "is that some of them are so darn averse to technology. Makes a girl's job harder."
The curly haired detective froze in his tracks, glaring accusingly at his companion, who simply chewed on her lower lip, biting down a satisfied smirk.
- "Did I just help you tamper with evidence ?", Fusco almost yelled, before calming down and resuming his walk, shaking his head, "Nevermind, I don't wanna know. You're a piece of work you know that ?"
- "You just prevented our latest number number from doing something unbelievably stupid", Root offered in somewhat cryptic explanation, "You should feel good about yourself. Come on", her voice turned cheerful again, "I'm buying you dinner to make it up to you. Just... don't tell Sameen I took you on a date, okay ? She gets possessive."
With a botched wink, the tall woman then sauntered away, leaving a mind-numbed Fusco wondering once again how the hell he'd ended up hanging around with the world's worst loon circus.
Of course, taking Fusco out to dinner meant an offering at to be made to appease the probably very hungry Shaw Root expected to find waiting for her at home, so she made a quick detour by one of her companion's favourite take-out place to make sure not to come empty handed.
- "How nice of you", the tall hacker heard a soft, familiar voice whisper in her hear as she was finished paying for her order and retrieved the hopefully sufficiently well-filled bags.
- "Hey you", Root cooed back, turning to look at Shaw's subtly expressive face, "you do enjoy sneaking up on me, don't you ?"
- "Well", the shorter woman said, taking the food bags from her companion as they started walking home, "your computer girlfriend finally stopped ratting on me, so, yeah, I'm having fun with it."
- "Stop calling her that", Root teased, falling into their usual back and forth, "Sorry to be so late, Lionel was grumpy after having to bail me out again. How did your thing go ?"
- "Swarton seemed to buy it", Shaw announced, "Your fake police file was convincing enough, so she's agreed to drop the hit."
- "Not much sense trying to kill a dead man, is there ?"
- "Guess not."
The walked a silence for a bit, bracing against the cold night air, before Root decided to ask the question she'd kept down all day.
- "You okay Sameen ?"
- "Of course", Shaw replied blankly, "Why wouldn't I ?"
- "Come on", Root pouted impatiently, "I know how you are. I know you don't like being reminded of certain... things."
- "The Machine could have given me a warning is all."
- "You know why she didn't", the tall hacker explained patiently, "Even though it may not have been the brightest idea to have you work this particular number, since..."
- "I'm fine, Root", Shaw cut her short.
- "Sameen..."
- "No, I mean it", the former agent resumed, subtly inching closer to her companion, "I really am fine. I mean... You're there, right ? So I'm fine. Doesn't take a genius to understand it : if you're there, I'm fine, if you're not ... "
Root's eyes widened slightly at the words and she grabbed the other woman's hand, giving it the barest squeeze before releasing it.
- "Okay", she whispered, smiling warmly, "let's go home."
- "Yeah", Shaw acquiesced, shaking her head as if to dispel bad memories before grinning softly in return, "I'm starving."