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It didn't happen now, but there was a time, somewhere in the beginning, when she sometimes asked herself if it was worth it. The long days and the restless nights she spent thinking about Shaw in her missions and the constant updates she asked The Machine to give her about Shaw's day. All of it.
Root didn't know exactly when she'd known she was in love with Shaw. She didn't even know what being in love meant. She knew she had a crush on Hanna when she was young, Hanna was also her only friend, so she'd discarded it to being young and stupid enough.
Her 'thing' with Shaw was just a mock-up at first. A way to get into Shaw's nerves and annoy the hell out of her. She'd follow Shaw, or leave her little notes in places where she knew she would definitely see. But she didn't really care for the woman. Of course, she was hot as fuck and Root wouldn't mind if she backed her up against a wall. But it was just that.
Caring about people was overrated, she knew, she'd been there. It ended up with numbness or blinding rage. The only thing worth caring for was The Machine, she'd never leave her and that was enough for Root.
Besides, she knew for sure Shaw cared about her less than she cared about Shaw. Sure, they had mind-blowing sex at the CIA safehouse the day they worked together, and Shaw convinced Harold to let her out of the cage in the library —the fact that it was Shaw herself who put her there was just besides the point— and she patched Root up after she'd been shot. But she still kicked her out of her apartment at night after they were done having sex, or she'd leave without a word if they were somewhere else. Shaw didn't want anything to do with feelings or relationships. And Root was okay with it, she didn't need Shaw to fuss, or to care for her in a way she knew it was impossible for her. A sociopath and a killer for hire couldn't have that kind of thing even if they wanted it, they'd probably wind up dead anyways.
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Then Control happened, and Shaw came back for her. Up until that day, Root was absolutely sure that if she were to die, Shaw would just move on to her next hook-up and that was it. But was it still that simple? That was the first time she asked herself if maybe she felt something else for Shaw, too.
When Root came back from Hong Kong the month after that, Shaw made sure her ear was properly patched up, she tended to her newest wounds and made sure she ate something under the pretext of "not wanting Root to die in the middle of fucking her". She still kicked her out afterwards, but Root counted fifteen whole minutes before Shaw starting to throw her clothes at her.
Maybe it was then, or just before waltzing into the Samaritan facility to install the stolen servers, when she called Shaw just to hear her voice one last time right after the machine read her the odds of her making it out of there alive.
It could've also been the moment she heard Shaw had biked all the way to New Jersey just to back her up with another stupid excuse.
Back then she still asked herself if it was worth it, if she was willing to let herself be miserable again when something happened to Shaw. Now that The Machine had shown her the importance of people, the beauty in actually caring for those poor, ignorant fools that surrounded her; she just had to make sure she died before losing Shaw. Sure, lives were important, they all mattered, but Sameen's life mattered the most.
That affirmation just grew stronger after Samaritan came online and Shaw started to change, too. She became restless, angry and annoyed because of the constant hiding. But she also became... oddly close to Root. Of course, she would never fool herself into thinking Shaw was actually in love with her, but she knew she cared at least a little more.
Root started to sleep on Shaw's couch four months on a row after Samaritan came online. She was still banned from Shaw's bed, but she wasn't kicking Root out right after they were done, she wasn't even trying to kick her out at all. Root was content.
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Then the stock exchange happened. And Root knew she had failed at protecting the only person that mattered most.
Those nine months were hell, even when she never stopped looking for her, she felt lost without her. She had Shaw's things picked up from her apartment and brought to the storage room where she kept her stuff. She even traveled with one of Shaw's jackets every time.
Root might have been alive and actively helping the boys and The Machine during that time, that crucial time in their fight against Samaritan, but she was just as numb as she'd been at the beginning, right after Hanna.
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There were times, lonely nights and awful days inside the subway when they brought The Machine back after the asylum when the lines between worth and not worth it were blurry. When she'd curse herself for thinking that if she hadn't cared for Shaw in the first place, Samaritan wouldn't have been interested in her at all, so it wouldn't have taken her. Times when she wished it was her instead of Shaw.
She knew she was needed, and that Harold and John couldn't do much without her link to The Machine. But she also knew she'd failed Shaw.
Even when she came back, and everything was over, Root still wondered if it was worth it. Shaw was never the same after Samaritan, she would wake up at night clutching at her left side, looking for a chip that wasn't there, she would find her in the bathroom at night looking at her own reflection, she would also check Root's chest for a round scar that told her she wasn't on a simulation anymore.
It took Shaw some time to feel like herself again, and Root wondered if she would also kick her out and start over without her when she felt whole again.
Now, with Shaw's arms wrapped around her and the short woman in question sleeping soundly against her back, that question was finally answered. It took them both some time, and some pretty awkward feeling talk they promised they'd have some day finally happening. But Root knew it was really worth it.
And even if she'd like to skip some painful, terrorizing parts of their journey, she was content with how her life had ended up.
Maybe Cyrus Wells was right, after all. Maybe, it was all part of a plan.