Chapter Text
The police station smelled like weed, urine and bile. Hanna tried to inhale and exhale only through her mouth, but it didn't help. She checked the time again: she had class in four hours. She uncrossed her legs and crossed her ankles instead. She stared at the ceiling and desperately began to ignore the anxiety twisting her gut. She began listing some of Foucault's main points in his essay "Crime and Punishment" that she had read just earlier this semester, but she couldn’t remember any of them. Panic surged through her body as suddenly the realisation forced itself on her. She was too tired to resist it. It was Friday, fifteen minutes to 4am specifically, in December, and Hanna was at a police precint because Root had called her.
“You’re my one phone call,” Root had said when Hanna picked up her phone on the third ring. Hanna blinked; she’d been asleep.
“What?” She’d blurted.
“I’m currently at the police precinct downtown. Wanna come pick me up?”
“Why?” Hanna asked dumbly.
“I was arrested,” Root had replied simply. Hanna had gaped. “I’ll explain later!” Root had added quickly; “just make sure you bring your debit card.”
On the drive downtown, Hanna had been dangerously distracted, as she tried to figure out what Root had done. Had she robbed a bank? Beaten a police officer? Killed someone? Or just forgot to pay a parking ticket? It was almost laughable that Hanna was able to construct a scenario in her head where each of these events was possible.
The police precinct was stuffy. As the minute hand of the analog clock over the desk hit 4:00, Hanna finally gave in and unwound her long scarf from around her neck. She had kept it and her thick autumnal coat on in the hope that it would signal her urgency to the officers, but none of the uniformed men behind the counter seemed to spare her a second glance.
"She's being processed," a tall one had said with boredom when Hanna had hurried in and provided a name. When she had asked what that meant, he had glared at her. Hanna had gulped and then forced herself to ask the terrifying question.
"Will I have to post bail?" the man looked up at her slowly, and then shook his head.
"She's not being charged with anything," he mumbled. Hanna smiled weakly in relief. The smile was not returned. Hanna sat down hurriedly.
There was a loud sound. Hanna jumped. She didn't think she had been asleep, but when she checked the time and saw it was 4.16, she assumed she had. She had been here for an hour and 45 minutes, now.
There was a buzzing; the metal grill opened. Root stepped through. She held up her wrists meekly to the officer, who unlocked them, smiling at Hanna over his shoulder. The knot in Hanna’s chest seemed to melt under Root’s smile. She exhaled quietly and got up. She wanted to be made at Root; to be offended and frustrated and bitter, but instead she smiled in relief and offered Root her scarf.
"The car's outside," she said simply.
"Hold on, ladies," the officer said, grabbing Hanna's shoulder harder than necessary. "You need to sign there." Hanna yanked herself free from his grasp and narrowed her eyes at him.
"Why? She wasn't charged with anything," she snapped, surprising herself with her own anger.
"There were no charges from us," he admitted, "but there still could be a civilian case. And just in case, I need you to sign here."
"Just in case what?" Root demanded, crossing her arms. The man sighed loudly.
"Its just police bureaucracy," he said, finally. "Just sign and leave." Hanna glowered, but gave in, signing her name with an exaggerated flourish at the bottom of the page.
When she turned around to leave, Root was already standing by the door. She opened it, and Hanna stepped out. It had grown colder over the last two hours; Hanna shuddered and wrapped her winter coat around her tighter. They walked in silence towards Hanna's car, though Hanna marveled how Root could march through this icy wind in only her leather coat, a small black beanie and Hanna's multicoloured scarf.
Hanna unlocked the car door in stony silence and started the car, blasting the heater and turning off the radio she had left on. "Root," she began. Root's lips thinned.
"You have class in four hours," Root pointed out.
"That doesn't mean we can't discuss this now," Hanna pointed out.
"That's exactly what that means. It's literary criticism: you need at least three hours sleep," Root countered, shivering and sitting on her hand. Despite the heater, the car was still cold.
Hanna sighed, shook her head and started the car. She pulled out of the parking lot and drove down the empty main street in relative silence. There was a thin layer of yet unsalted snow, so she kept a careful eye on the road and didn't drive fast. She sighed again, and then glanced at Root. Root had her head leaned against the cold window, staring out sadly. Hanna bit her lip, and decided to ask the question that had been burning on her tongue all evening.
"What did you do?" The words sounded timid, but Root didn’t seem to notice. She continued staring ahead of them.
"Nothing too bad," she evaded. Hanna bit her lip.
"Root?" She prompted, stopping in front of a red light and staring at Root with wide brown eyes.
"There were no charges against me, so it couldn’t have been important.” Root evaded again, before gesturing at the traffic light. “Its green; you can drive." Hanna sighed, but turned back forwards and started driving again.
"I'm worried, Root," she said simply. Root gave her a tired half smile.
"Don't worry about me, Hanna," she murmured. "While you're still around, nothing could ever happen to me." Hanna scoffed.
"Except you just got arrested?" Root yawned again.
"Can we discuss this?" She murmured. "I haven't slept yet." Hanna turned into their street and sighed.
"I know what that means, Root," she chastised. Root smiled at Hanna, and Hanna did notice the pronounced rings under her eyes. The car came to a slow stop in front of their apartment as Hanna slipped back into the same parking space she had occupied before.
Root sighed and got out of the car. “It doesn’t mean anything, Hanna,” she murmured. “I just want to sleep.” Hanna examined Root critically
"Just tell me what you did," Hanna sighed, stopping the car outside their apartment building. Root hopped out of the car and blew onto her pale hands.
"I hacked into the police mainframe."
"Why?"
"I wanted to see whether or not I could do it."
"And you failed?"
"No, I was successful."
"So why were you in prison?"
“I wasn’t in prison,” she corrected with a sigh. Hanna rolled her eyes.
“Why were you in police custody?” Hanna rephrased.
"I haven't figured that out yet." Root held open the door of their building and waved Hanna into the vestibule; Hanna walked in and unlocked the front door with a sigh. She held open the thick door and was greeted with a comforting wave of warmth. She frowned. The elevator was still out of order. She began walking up the steps. Root followed her.
"You need to elaborate," Hanna decided. Root bit her lip.
"I hacked in," she began, "and I hacked in well. I had read about this one other hacker called Phoenix who managed to hack every single police stations in his city. They called him Untouchable, and made a game based on that."
"A hacking game?" Hanna asked, making the words sound almost satirical. Root smirked, but nodded.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To practice," Root said matter of factly. Hanna scoffed.
"That sounds dumb," she muttered. Root smiled impishly.
"It is," she agreed. "I don't usually play, but that Phoenix guy..."
"You've talked to him?"
"No, he was a big deal in the early 90s, but he hasn't been around since ‘99 for some reason."
"So what about him?"
"He's just... he's so good at this."
"So you wanna be better?"
"Exactly!"
"That's a really dumb idea, Roo." Hanna was out of breath; they'd reached the fourth floor landing. She looked down behind her. Root had slowed down too, at least.
"When are they gonna fix that dumb lift?" Root muttered, opening her coat. Hanna smiled and shrugged.
"Probably once we start paying our rent on time," she joked. Root sighed loudly.
"Ugh," Root groaned. Hanna got the front door and unlocked it. Her cat looked up from the sofa, clearly unimpressed by their 5am appearance. Root narrowed her eyes at the cat.
"Has she been in my room?" She asked suspiciously. Hanna scooped up the tabby and kissed the top of her bed.
"No," she said happily. "Mr. Rochester would never do something like that." Root rolled her eyes. One of the kittens poked it head over the sofa. Root picked it up by the scruff of its neck while a second one wound itself around her legs. She chuckled and nuzzled the kitten happily. Hanna rolled her eyes.
“Please don’t do that again,” Hanna murmured into the cat. Root looked around and was surprised to see tears streaming down Hanna’s face; she knew it was probably a combination of exhaustion and fear, but she immediately felt guilty. She placed her cats down on the ground and then moved forward to give Hanna a hug. Mr. Rochester was still between them; she began purring happily and nuzzled Root’s neck. Root pushed her off and wiped Hanna’s tears away gently/
"Go to bed, Hanna," she murmured. "We can talk after literary criticism tomorrow." Hanna nodded, sniffing.
"Go to be yourself," she sniffed. "You should probably go to at least one class tomorrow," she added. Root sighed dramatically.
"I'm kind of tired," she mumbled. Hanna rolled her eyes, chuckling.
"You're the worst," she mumbled, walking into her room.
"Love you too," Root called, walking into her own room and starting up her laptop. The IM pinged, and she saw she had a message from one of her friends. Daizo asked "were you successful?." Jason’s messaged just said “police band says u were arrested do u need bail money.” Root sighed and closed her computer again. She would sleep first.
But she felt restless; itching. She sighed and unfurled herself from her bed, walking into the kitchen again. She sat down on the sofa, grinning as two of her kittens joined her again. Mr. Rochester had disappeared into Hanna’s room with her. They had adopted the large tabby from the shelter together, where the employees had assured them that the cat was a) male and b) very fat. Both were proved wrong when Mr. Rochester had kittens approximately 8 weeks ago. Root loved the small mewling creatures though, whom she had all named now. As she settled down, cross legged, on the couch, they sat around her, cuddling into warm parts of her body. She smirked, and began doing her assignment for Differential Equations.
Root was engrossed; math was theraputic like that. So it took Hanna murmuring her name several times before she realised. “Root.” Hanna was standing in the middle of the room, her eyes wide. She came forward and looked down at. “What are you doing?” She asked. Root sighed and put down her homework.
“What are you thinking about?” Hanna murmured. Root sighed.
“Someone did it.”
“Someone did what?”
“I got arrested today for hacking into the police mainframe.”
“Yes?”
“Phoenix did it,” she explained, staring down at her homework. “He managed to hack the police mainframe when he was 21 and he was never caught.”
“But you were caught?”
“Yes, but not because they traced my router code.”
“Why then?” Hanna asked, settling down on the sofa.
“I think,” she said slowly, “because they’ve been watching me.”
“What?”
“I fit the profile of a cybercriminal.”
“Cybercriminal?”
“That’s what they call me. I’d prefer hacker, but the US government seems to be in search of brilliant new names.”
“Stop being sarcastic.”
“I’m not!”
“But so they tracked you down because you…fit the type?”
“Sort of.”
“What can you do against that?” Hanna asked sarcastically. Root didn’t pick up on the sarcasm though; she sighed loudly and frowned down at her screen.
“Nothing, I suppose,” she mumbled. Hanna rolled her eyes and lea ned forward, closing Root’s laptop with a snap.
“Well, I mean, first of all,” she said, “you could sleep.” Root rolled her eyes. “Second of all,” Hanna added, “you could stop all the illegal activity. Bail gets expensive really fast, you know.”
“I wasn’t charged today.”
“Yeah but next time.”
“I don’t think they had anything on me.”
“You were let off with a warning!”
“No, I think its because they had no proof.”
“What?”
“They tried to find proof of me in this hack, but they couldn’t. They didn’t have enough probable cause to take my laptop and search it, and I didn’t give them anything.”
“They’re the police, Root. They’re not trying to hurt you or anything.” Root’s lips thinned.
“I don’t know,” she murmured, thoughtfully. Hanna chuckled, getting up from the sofa slowly, and offered Root a hand.
“Come on,” she murmured. “It’s too early to be concocting conspiracy theories.” Root smiled and accepted Hanna’s hand, getting up quietly from the sofa.
“I can’t sleep, though,” she admitted. Hanna shrugged. “Come, be my portable heater then,” she suggested, dragging Root into her own bedroom. She lay down, and Root curled around her, pushing two cats out of the way so she could adequately curl around Hanna. Hanna smiled and fell asleep rapidly. Root stayed up for another hour, watching the analogue clock tick away and listening to Hanna’s regular breathing, trying to empty her mind and remember that everything important was here, with Hanna.
Hanna had known Root all her life. Hanna was the one who had fashioned her nickname. When they were young, Hanna had called her Root. Hanna had always called her Root, though exactly where she had picked up the nickname was shrouded in mystery. Root's mother had claimed it was a diminutive of "Groves," which Root always assumed to be the least true theory. Hanna's mother thought it derived from Winnie the Pooh's friends Kanga and Roo, and Hanna herself believed that adding 'r's to sounds had simply been a hobby of hers as a child. No one knew, but Root loved the nickname anyway. It was Hanna’s.
“This is my punishment?” Root asked, incredulous, looking around with a quirked eyebrow. Hanna grinned happily.
“Yup!”
“The biology department mixer?”
“Yup!”
“You know, Hanna, this is just your minor. You don’t have to be here.”
“I know, but I need more biology friends.” Root wrinkled her nose.
“Do you, though?” She asked critically, observing the room with aloof distaste. “Everyone here is either a nerd or a desperate pre-med.”
“We’re nerds.” Hanna pointed out. Root huffed.
“A different kind of nerd,” she clarified. Hanna smirked.
“Whatever,” she hummed, looking around. She grinned when she spotted someone from her “History of Infectious Diseases” class and waved at him. The young man’s face lit up and he waved back. Root huffed even louder.
“Oh I see why we’re here,” she muttered under her breath. Hanna elbowed her.
“Play nice,” she chastised. Root rolled her eyes.
“I’m going to get something to drink,” she mumbled. Hanna shot her a frown as Root walked away.
“Don’t forget you’re not legal!” She called after her, but Root ignored her.
The party had only started an hour ago, but already the food table was nearly empty. The week before finals was a bad time to offer college kids free food, Root thought dryly. She picked up the whole serving bowl of tortilla chips, which was less than half full, and was about to walk over to the bar when someone popped up next to her.
“Are you going to take all of that?” The new girl demanded, eyeing the chips. Root shrugged.
“There aren’t that many there,” she pointed out. The other girl looked between the table and Root again.
“Give me half,” she decided. Root narrowed her eyes.
“Please,” Root amended, gripping the bowl of chips righter. The other woman sighed and rolled her eyes, reaching forward for the chips. Root evaded her grip. She was the only one who was allowed to be grumpy about being her.
“There are others,” she said with a lofty gesture. The other girl narrowed her eyes.
“You can’t take a whole bowl for yourself,” she snapped.
“What are you going to do about it?” Root sneered. The girl’s jaw clenched, and she seemed to size Root up when a stern voice cut through their discussion.
“Shaw! What are you doing?” A young man demanded, stepping between them. The girl, Shaw, seemed to deflate.
“She took all the tortilla chips, Cole!” Shaw snapped, glaring at Root behind Cole. Cole sighed and leaned towards the table, offering Shaw the bowl of Doritos.
“Have these,” he commanded. “Now, behave. I’m trying to make friends, not alienate people.”
“Why did you bring me along then?”
“You promise, Shaw.”
“I know, I know. I just didn’t foresee meeting a chip stealing child,” Shaw snapped. Cole turned to Root and smiled tightly.
“I’m so sorry about Shaw,” he said, trying to be light. “She’s just a little…”
“A little what, Cole?”
“Hungry.”
“Root, what have you done?” Root turned around as Hanna approached them. Root made a face. “Oh, hey Cole!” She added, shooting him a quick smile Cole.
“I haven’t done anything,” Root replied defensively. Hanna quirked an eyebrow and smirked.
“You have a whole bowl of chips,” she pointed out. “Decorum dictates you only take a handful, Root.” Shaw snorted behind Cole. Root glared at her and, taking a very large handful, defiantly put the bowl back. Shaw grabbed the bowl victoriously. Cole chuckled quietly and grinned at Hanna.
“Did you also force her to come?” he asked conversationally. Hanna smirked and nodded, linking her arm through Root’s, upsetting her chips.
Root decided not to complain as two fell to the floor; though when she looked up, Shaw was smirking at her again.“She owed me one,” Hanna was explaining to Cole, “so I thought I could use her as a tool to meet people.” Cole grinned as Hanna turned to Root. “This is Cole,” she added unnecessarily. “He and I were lab partners for Molecular Biology of Oncogenes.”
“And Biology 101!” Cole quipped. Hanna chuckled.
“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten that!” She admitted. “Anyway, this is my best friend Root.” Cole stuck out his hand to Root, but because she was holding the chips in her right hand, she awkwardly shook his hand with her left hand. Shaw didn’t offer her hand, so neither did Root.
“This is my best friend, Shaw,” Cole introduced, nudging Shaw forward by the shoulder. “She’s in pre-med.” Hanna extended her hand and smiled at Shaw.
“Were we in Human Anatomy together?” she asked tilting her head. Shaw gave her a strained fake smile and nodded.
“I think so: was it with Hickman?”
“Last semester, yes!”
“Yeah, I thought i recognised you.” Her act and her smile were unconvincing, and Root raised a delicate eyebrow at her. She rolled her eyes at Root as Cole and Hanna began discussing their schedules next semester. Shaw said something quiet to Cole and then slipped away towards the drinks. Root decided to follow.
“You’re an awful actress,” she told Shaw conversationally. Shaw shot her a glare.
“I’m a pre-med,” she snapped, “not in Theatre, so why does it matter?” SHe picked up a wine bottle and stared at the label. She unscrewed the bottle and sniffed experimentally at it. She seemed to decide it was okay to drink, because she poured a plastic cup full of it.
“Even Hanna could tell there was something off about the way you behaved,” Root explained.
“Even Hanna?” Shaw asked, raising an eyebrow. Root smirked, pushing forward her own cup so Shaw would fill that too.
“Hanna’s too trusting,” Root explained with a shrug. “I’m the more synical one.”
“Also, the more annoying one,” Shaw grumbled. Root couldn’t stop grinning.
“Would you rather go back?” She offered, gesturing at Cole and Hanna in the corner. Shaw’s lips thinned.
“I only have to stay until ten,” she murmured. Root looked down at her watch and raised another eyebrow.
“That’s more than an hour away,” she pointed out. Shaw rolled her eyes.
“An hour is not that long in my book,” she hummed. Root tilted her head.
“Sameen Shaw,” she murmured, repeating the name experimentally. Shaw looked up at her, eyes hardened with an unspoken challenge. “I remember why you’re name was familiar,” Root murmured.
“Why?” Shaw asked, tilting her head.
“That gunman that came on campus in April last year. You tackled him down, right? Saved someone’s life?”
“Cole’s life,” Shaw corrected. “I saved Cole’s life.”
“You’re very different than how I imagined you.”
“You imagined me?”
“Yes, I thought you would be somehow heroic and arrogant.”
“Disappointed?”
“The arrogance is still there,” Root corrected with a smirk. “It’s just you’re ...harder.”
“The only reason I jumped in front of that dumb gunman is because I knew he didn’t know what he was doing. I mean, he wasn’t even holding the gun properly.”
“Do you have military training?”
“Why, are you planning on hiring me?”
“As what?”
“Some kind of mercenary.”
“That sounds like a great idea.”
“You think you’re being sarcastic,” Shaw said with a smirk as she pushed herself away from the wall, “but you’re not as good as an actress as you think.”