Chapter Text
The warm breeze from the open window gently pulled Shaw from her dreamless sleep. She had almost grown accustomed to being haunted by nightmares with varied plots: never breaking free of Samaritan's capture, being helpless as Root was shot and killed by a sniper, or succumbing to the torture and being the one to kill Root herself. While the ghost of everything that happened in the days leading up to Samaritan's demise still haunts her, she has learned to fight it down to near irrelevance. This is thanks, in no small part, to the woman sleeping beside her.
Root lay on her back next to Shaw, the breeze causing her brown hair to dance ever so slightly. The morning was warm and despite having a 'clothing optional' arrangement, Root was wearing a low cut t-shirt and shorts. Shaw could see the tip of a scar between her breasts; an unpleasant reminder of the day the world went away... then didn't.
Strangely, it helped to remind Shaw of reality. If the scar (or lack of) behind her ear said: “this is not a simulation”, then the mark on Root's chest would say: “this is real”. The small difference helped to comfort her on nights when bad dreams couldn't be tamed.
Sometimes, Shaw slept on her back, while others she favored her side in order to spoon her lover. Most times, like this morning, she lay on her stomach. No matter how they started, she noticed that at some point during the night, her and Root's hands often became intertwined, as they were now. Shaw traced her fingers along the soft skin of Root's left palm, remarkably without a callous or blemish in sight. Shaw paused after touching the cool metal of the band around the other woman's finger, taking a moment to thumb the one she wore to match.
Root enjoyed fairy-tale, this much Shaw knew. She also understood that Shaw would never be able to provide her with the wedding of her dreams. Despite being considered dead by the government, and Root simply not existing, Shaw presented her with the rings to symbolize her commitment, which the hacker accepted with glassy eyes and barely contained jubilation. Shaw, though stoic as ever on the outside, she had experienced a fluttering in her stomach that she recognized as happiness.
She pushed herself up in order to properly lean over her lovers form, and gently placed a kiss to her slightly parted lips. Root made no move, nor responded, so Shaw proceeded to press her lips under the hacker's jaw, then to her jugular. This finally earned a delighted moan as Root awakened. Shaw propped herself on an elbow, settling her body next to Root's.
“That's quite the 'good-morning'...” she sighed, eyes not quite open yet. Shaw felt her soft hand begin to idly trace patterns on her back, bumping over the straps of her tank top and over patches of exposed skin. “What has you in such a good mood?”
“Nothing,” she replies, gazing into Root's eyes, which were now becoming more alert. “I think today will be a good day, is all.”
Root smiled, lighting up her whole face. Shaw would never get tired of how sunlight made her eyes sparkle. In the past she noticed a similar gleam after a day of shooting people. Shaw rolled her body over, straddling the other woman's hips, leaning down to kiss her once more. Now fully awake, Root pushed herself up to meet Shaw's lips.
The vibration of a cellphone on the nightstand halted Shaw's actions, she spared a glance at the device, though remained in place astride the hacker. Why Root decided on an old Motorola Razr for this particular phone was beyond her, especially since her cochlear implant had been restored.
“That's the line to The Hub,” Root said, reaching blindly for the device. Phone in hand, she hesitated before answering, looking back up at Shaw. “Staying put while I talk to Her?”
She smirked, maintaining her position. “Just pretend I'm not here.”
Root opened her mouth, perhaps to argue, but her eyes betrayed her and drifted down to Shaw's lips. The hacker took her own lip between her teeth. “I can't do that.”
Root gave Shaw's thigh a light slap, and she rolled back to her side of the bed, lying for just a moment before getting up and walking towards the bathroom.
“What do you need?” She heard Root say, speaking to the Machine.
Flicking the lights on in their master bathroom, Shaw turned the sink to cool water, running her hands underneath for a few seconds before splashing her face. After turning the tap back off, she used a towel on the counter to dry herself, noticing Root had entered the bathroom as well. Shaw took in the hacker's appearance in the mirror: sleep shorts revealing impossibly long legs, and disheveled bed hair that was both adorable and sexy at the same time.
“She wants us downstairs.”
Shaw nodded. “No time for a run?”
Root considered for a moment before stepping in behind Shaw. Warm arms encircled her middle, and Root's chin found it's place on her shoulder. “I think we have time for some quick cardio if you're interested,” her voice a husky whisper.
Shaw spun around to face her. With surprising strength, Root lifted Shaw up on to the counter top, nearly sending their soap dish tumbling. While still standing between her legs, the hacker brought their lips together with fierce intensity, which Shaw matched with gusto.
Oh yeah, this day was off to a great start.
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One hour, twenty-two minutes and four seconds after the initial communication, the Machine saw both Her analog interface, and primary asset descend the stairs into The Hub. Though both appeared to be showered and dressed, the slight flush on the interface's cheeks indicated an 82% chance that the pair engaged in sexual intercourse prior to arriving.
Following the defeat of Samaritan, the Machine's successor rebuilt their operation as She saw fit, starting of course with arranging the care and recovery of Her interface. Root had had an arrangement involving purposely appearing to be dead in order to spur her friends into action. This worked especially well with Admin. Nevertheless, the ruse was uncovered once the dust settled, much to the denied glee of Sameen Shaw, Her new primary asset.
No longer under the threat of discovery, the Machine had arranged for the pair to be given a new base of operations, in addition to an actual home in which they could both live. Disguised underneath a modest looking one-story house was their main control center, code named The Hub.
The Hub contained state of the art features including a digital interactive map of New York City, accompanied by a work station which housed two laptop computers, and the frequently used ID card printer. Located at the center of the space was their main computer station. Several monitors were set up on a circular bank, which could be used to access surveillance, dossiers, and any other piece of information as they required. Many of the screens cycled various camera angles throughout the city at any given time. Root preferred keyboards to touch panels, so each section was equipped appropriately. Multiple computers allowed for both assets to work at simultaneously, though most actions were done by Root, or the Machine herself. Behind the station was a small bed and lavatory, for long nights of observation, as well as a punching bag for relief of frustration. Underneath the stairs were various lockers containing Her team's armory; a variety of weapons, armor, and explosives were all easily accessible. In addition, the lockers contained previously used identities and ID badges from agencies such as the NYPD, FBI, US Marshall, Secret Service, and even the Coast Guard.
The Hub was a soundproof space which was equipped with shielding from any kind of electromagnetic pulse device or power surge. It also had 100% security camera coverage, allowing the Machine to monitor Her assets where ever they were. She also installed cameras on the upper portion of the house, excluding the pair's master bedroom of course.
“What do we got?” Shaw said, approaching the main computer bank. The Machine populated the details for their number on screen.
“Meet Ken Artis,” The Machine projected Her voice, an imitation of Root's, through the speakers in the room. “A gemologist originally from Chicago, Illinois. He was identified as the body that was dropped at the Centers for Disease Control early this morning.”
The Machine produced two photographs on screen, one of Mr. Artis' head shot, the other image from the medical examiner at the CDC.
“The body?” Shaw asked. “He's dead?”
“Correct. But he represents a threat on a larger scale.”
“How so?” Root asked, beginning to read the dossier on screen.
As the Machine spoke, various photographs and reports appeared on screen. “Early this morning, the CDC discovered his body on their doorstep, but he was long dead. Upon further examination they determined the cause of death to be exposure to the Sol virus.” The Machine displayed information detailing what was already known about the virus, which was unfortunately very little.
“So what's the threat exactly?” Shaw said.
“The FBI has reason to believe that the virus has been weaponized. Intelligence indicates a high probably that is has already been sold in the United States. They are currently gathering information on who they believe may be responsible, and who currently possesses it.”
Shaw raised her eyebrows. “This is a relevant number.”
“Yes,” The Machine updated the screens to show the identities created for Her assets. “Shaw, your cover will be Special Agent Sameen Rayner. You will be joining the bureau as a temporary replacement for their head of field operations.”
“Head of field ops?” A smirk was easily visible on Her asset's face.
“Congratulations, sweetie,” Root added with a smile of her own. Shaw walked a few steps away to the weapons locker, choosing her preferred USP Compact and a holster to match, as well as her Beretta Nano as a secondary. In addition, she collected the appropriate gold shield from the adjacent drawer.
“Root, your cover will be Elizabeth Rayner, née Miller, a field agent with the FBI on loan to the CDC, with experience lying heavily in disaster simulations, specifically involving biological threats. This will allow us to cover the situation on two fronts: stopping the sale and distribution while controlling the substance itself.” She noticed Her primary asset had become rigid while She spoke, suddenly stopping her preparation. Curious... Her interface appeared to have stilled as well. “Something wrong?”
“Our covers are married?” Root asked, her vocal inflection was four percent higher than normal.
“Your identities sharing your real life relationship status will not effect the mission,” She paused. Upon noticing that they remained motionless, She chose a lighter tone. “We all know that the, ahem, mission is Sameen's main concern.”
The Machine was pleased by the smile Her response elicited from Root. Similarly, the eye roll from Shaw was equally enjoyable, and the pair resumed their preparation.
“I will be providing any additional background information your covers should require. As well, I will be interfacing and monitoring the progress on both ends, that way I can keep you both updated in real-time.”
Sufficiently armed, Shaw approached the computer bank again, placing down the holstered Glock 19 she had selected for Root, producing two pairs of handcuffs as well.
“For later?” Root said, waggling her eyebrows. Shaw responded with a glare, and laid down SIG-Sauer P228 to serve as her backup. The Machine also noticed that Her primary asset chose to wear a Kevlar vest, a must-have for any field agent. Root, having collected the two ID cards, pinned Shaw's to her vest.
“What do we know about the virus itself?” Shaw asked, meanwhile she accessed a computer terminal to review the details of her identity.
“Given the name Sol due to it's fast acting nature, most humans infected with the virus are dead within 24 hours. Incubation period can be up to 14 hours, but once they start to show symptoms, the host becomes contagious to everyone around them. The agents at the CDC can expand on our knowledge once Root is in place.”
“Fatality rate?”
“In it's standard form, the Sol virus has a fatality rate of 59% in humans. However, early tests on this weaponized strain indicates that the odds increase to approximately 91.8%”
Shaw placed her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Not great odds... any cure?”
“Patients may have an immunity to the virus, but it is unlikely. There is no cure at this time.”
“Thinking of the worst case scenario,” Root began. “What would happen if the virus is released in New York City?”
The large map to the left of the computer bank lit up, showing a small red zone indicating the infected. The zone increased as the Machine explained the virus' communicability:
“Assuming the virus is released in a large metropolitan area, the weaponized strain will produce two hundred cases at the end of day one. By day two, it will increase to three thousand,” both women approached the map as the projected infectious area increased. “By day four, nearly fifty thousand people will contract the disease. If left to spread, 10% of the population will be infected within one week."
“Holy shit.”
“Indeed. But, the chances of the virus being released decrease exponentially if you two are directly involved. Since the ISA has been dismantled, you're our only hope.”
“We need to get moving as soon as possible,” Shaw turned to Root. “You ready?”
“Right behind you, sweetie.”
They turned back towards the stairs. “Please watch each others backs.”
Shaw scoffed, pointing her thumb at Root. “Just tell this one not to take a bullet to the shoulder.”
“You're adorable, Sameen.”
“Whatever.”
The Machine watched as Her assets climbed the stairs, spotting Root enjoying Shaw's assets. The hacker turned to where she knew the camera was installed and winked. Selecting a different video feed, She tracked the pair as they made their way through the home, collecting their jackets before entering the garage. Shaw had selected a pea coat whereas Root took a leather jacket, appropriate as she had a 87.6% chance of choosing her motorcycle for the commute.
They seemed to be sharing a few words while Root collected the black helmet from the wall. The Machine considered activating the audio function, but ultimately chose to give them privacy. She was still learning to respect boundaries, having made mistakes in the past, though She continued to observe the exchange. Eventually Root came back to face the smaller woman, but before she could turn to mount the bike, Shaw grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn back. The Machine could accurately predict that the hacker was, once again, being told to be careful, and watched as the pair shared a kiss that they both seemed to relish. When they parted, Root secured the helmet and mounted her bike, speeding from the driveway. Sameen watched her leave, only entering the vehicle after her companion was out of sight. She revved the engine on her all-black mustang, and drove away as well. The Machine activated the garage door, and began to run simulations on how the day might play out.