Chapter Text
“I let you drive once and we end up here?” Shaw complains to Root, gesturing around the abandoned lot they’re stranded in. They’re out in the open, just off the highway in midst of wide open fields, nearly half a mile from the next town. The only cover in sight is a boarded up gas station, and a single dried-up looking tree. The afternoon sun is so hot that Shaw’s already sweating only a few minutes after stepping out of the truck.
“I asked Her at the last town and She said we had enough gas,” Root says.
“Oh yeah? What’s She saying now?” Shaw says petulantly. She scuffs her boot on the ground, and watches the cloud of dust that creates drift away in the wind.
“That – wait, what?” Hearing Root’s voice suddenly take on a tone of alarm snaps Shaw’s attention to her. “Why? You don’t – are you there? Can you hear me?”
Shaw walks around to the driver’s side of the truck where Root is standing. “Root?” She ignores Shaw in favour of pulling out her phone and frantically tapping on it. Shaw closes the little space remaining between them. She grabs Root’s arm, just gently putting a bit of pressure on her bicep to get her attention. “Hey.” Root makes a final couple keystrokes before looking at Shaw. Her worried and confused look softens just a tiny bit when she notices Shaw’s closeness.
“She said She’s going down for maintenance.”
Shaw might not be an expert, but she distinctly recalls Root explaining how they helped the Machine distribute Her operations out to various datacenters after Samaritan was wiped out. And how that made it nearly impossible to take Her down. “She doesn’t do that.”
“No.”
“Is there something wrong with Her? Samaritan didn’t give her some kind of time-delayed virus?”
Root shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I think She did this on purpose.”
“Like the camping trip.” They spent a week in the wilderness watching another couple, only to stop them from pushing each other off a cliff then hand them over to the local police. Then the Machine told them that driving the couple thousand miles across the country back to New York would be just a great idea.
“There was an actual number,” Root says reasonably.
“Which could’ve easily been handled in five minutes by people that weren’t us.” Root just shrugs. With Fusco on vacation with his son, and John and Harold on a flight to Sydney to spy on an AI development conference, they’re unlikely to get any backup. It’s up to the two of them to get themselves out of whatever the Machine got them into. “Come on. Let’s see if we can find a functioning gas station there,” Shaw says, jerking her thumb towards the town down the road.
“I tried every one of our cards,” Root says, dropping down beside Shaw on the bench in front of the town’s only gas station. “Nothing. She froze all of our accounts. And you just spent the last of our cash on junk food.”
“I was hungry,” Shaw says unapologetically. She pauses tearing open a bag of chips to offer the Twizzlers to Root. She takes one, and glumly pulls a bit off with her teeth.
“Come on,” Shaw says, gently kicking Root’s leg. “We’ll find some asshole we can borrow a few bucks from then get out of here.”
Root rolls the rest of the Twizzler up and shoves it in her mouth. She chews thoughtfully, waiting until she’s done to speak. “I don’t know. I’d feel kinda bad doing that. I promised Harry I wouldn’t do anything he wouldn’t.”
Shaw looks at her in disbelief, then accepts this and shakes her a head.
“So… hack an ATM?”
Shaw follows Root’s gaze as she surveys their surroundings. To their left, a gravel road, and a wheat field beyond that. To their right, the town’s main street. A single block’s worth of businesses, then a church and a library before it turns into a tree lined residential street.
“Tempting, but I don’t think they have one. She’d probably block us anyway. I just want to know why She seems so determined to keep us here.”
“Some kind of test?” Shaw offers. She’s not all that concerned with their predicament. A little annoyed, perhaps. But the Machine has usually had a good reason for Her bizarre antics. Shaw’s learned to just go with the flow. “Prove we’re good guys or some shit?”
“That doesn’t seem like her.”
“Whatever,” Shaw says, shrugging. She finishes her chips, then walks over to the nearby trash can to throw out the bag. “Let’s take a look around. Maybe we’ll find someone who needs shooting.”
Shaw offers Root her hand and pulls her to her feet. Root doesn’t let go once she’s standing. “No,” Shaw says, letting her hand go limp in Root’s grasp. Root releases it, and Shaw starts out towards the street. She’s only gone a few steps when Root catches up and slips her hand into Shaw’s back pocket.
They don’t run into any murderers, or criminals of any kind, on their short tour of the town. In fact, everyone they meet is almost creepily nice. The only thing of interest they find is the flyer Root is waving in Shaw’s face.
“No way, Root.”
“But Sameen,” Root whines.
“This is the worst idea you’ve had all week.”
“You say that about all my ideas.”
“Not the ones that involve food or sex,” Shaw points out.
“Well this definitely involves food, and could involve sex if you’re lucky,” Root says. Shaw suspects there will be sex whether she goes along with Root’s idea or not.
“Can’t we just ask someone for help?” Root recoils in horror. “You’re right, that’s a terrible idea,” Shaw admits quickly. She tries vainly to come up with an alternative, but Root staring at her and pouting distracts her. “Okay, fine.”
The town fair grounds aren’t hard to find. Most of the sparse traffic is heading that way.
They thread their way through a surprisingly large crowd. Past children’s rides, vendors selling local crafts, and an assortment of probably rigged games. Past the stage where country band is playing, and finally to a booth beside it with a banner proclaiming “Hotdog Eating Contest - $500 Grand Prize.”
Shaw sighs, resigned to her fate. Root links their arms and pulls Shaw along towards the booth. “Come on sweetie, let’s get you signed up.”
“If I puke, it’s going on you.” Shaw turns to face Root as she says this, to fully appreciate the way her face twists in disgust.
“That’s gross.”
Shaw hangs back a bit while Root is filling out the entry form. This is her stupid idea, she can handle the paperwork.
She’s handing the form over to the overly cheery woman at the booth when a large man in a plaid shirt and a John Deere cap approaches her. She can’t hear them over the noise, but can see Root shake her head and gesture toward the crowd Shaw is hiding amongst. While he’s talking, Root surreptitiously checks out the crowd, and spots Shaw. Root jerks her head subtly, and makes a face which Shaw interprets as ‘get your fantastic ass over here or you’re not getting laid for a week.’ Not that Root ever successfully follows through on that sort of threat, but she will get annoyingly pouty and mopey for a few days. So Shaw sighs, shakes her head, and pushes her way through the crowd.
“Oh, there she is now!” Root says as she approaches them. Shaw resists the urge to stab someone and plasters her best dealing-with-people smile on her face. “Sameen, this is Jimbo, the reigning champion.” Root seems to have slipped into speaking with a more pronounced drawl, which Shaw finds oddly attractive.
Jimbo sizes Shaw up, and scoffs. “You? The way your girlfriend was talkin’ I thought I’d have some real competition.”
“Oh, I’ll give you competition,” Shaw snarls at him through gritted teeth. He chuckles, then turns away to talk to another contestant.
Root elbows her in the side, hard. “Save it for the contest, sweetie.”
Jimbo smirks at Shaw smugly while they’re taking their places on the stage. The glare she gives him in return makes him flinch and shift his chair away from her.
As she’s looking out over the crowd waiting to begin, Shaw suddenly realizes that not only will she have to stuff her face with dozens of flavourless, possibly bacteria-laden hotdogs, she’ll have to do it in front of a huge audience. Root watching her eat is one thing. It’s Root. It’s almost endearing, in her weird way. This is making a spectacle of herself in front of a bunch of yokels.
Then she spots Root. Right in the front row, giving Shaw a broad smile and flashing her a thumbs up. Shaw chooses to focus on her, and the way she leans in and her eyes glaze over dreamily as Shaw shoves the first hotdog in her mouth.
Shaw does her best to hide the discomfort caused by the obscene (even for her) amount of low-grade processed meat she just consumed. She’s doing pretty good compared to Jimbo, at least. He’s slumped over in his chair, groaning. The first place ribbon stuck on her shirt and the stack of cash Root’s counting beside her help. She feels even better after returning his smug smirk from before.
Their first stop after leaving the stage is at a food stall where Root buys herself a huge ball of cotton candy. Shaw declines at first when Root offers her some. They sit down at a nearby picnic table, and for once Shaw is the one watching Root eat.
Suddenly, Root stands up and shoves her cotton candy into Shaw’s hands. She runs off, belatedly calling “Wait here!” over her shoulder as she goes. Shaw bides her time taking little bites of Root’s cotton candy. She may have just eaten approximately her own weight in hotdogs, but that doesn’t mean she’s going to pass up a sugary treat.
She reappears minutes later, wearing a cap with a rainbow coloured shape of Texas on it, and a stupid grin on her face. Distracted by this, Shaw fails to notice Root’s hand concealed behind her back.
“I know you missed Bear, so I got you this.” She pulls her hidden hand out, revealing a stuffed toy dog that actually is reasonably close to Bear’s colouring. Shaw recalls seeing similar stuffed toys as prizes at some kind of throwing game they passed earlier.
Shaw rolls her eyes, but she still passes Root’s cotton candy back her and snatches the dog from her hand.
Root’s about to say something, but then her eyes glaze over and go unfocused in a familiar way. A few moments later, she directs her attention back to Shaw.
“She’s talking to you again?” Shaw asks.
Root nods. “She said that She thought we deserved some time off, with how busy we’ve been recently. And that She may have miscalculated and – um – well, the gas station might be out of gas.”
Later in the evening, the two of them are laying side by side on their truck’s hood.
Shaw allowed Root to drag her around the fair for about an hour after the Machine called. Then they picked up some supplies at the town’s tiny grocery store before walking back out to their truck as the sun was setting.
Root’s watching the stars appear one by one overhead, while Shaw watches Root. She’s noticed Root becoming a bit uncomfortable, or uncharacteristically quiet at times throughout the day. They’re both out of their element a bit, but it seems like something more is going on with her.
“I thought you’d like it here,” Shaw says. “Fewer people to put up with.”
“I feel a bit exposed here,” Root admits. “It’s – comforting, I suppose – knowing I can slip into another identity and just vanish amidst everyone. Can’t really do that here.” She smirks, but it drops quickly. “It reminds of Bishop, a bit,” she says quietly.
“Hey,” Shaw says, nudging her shoulder, attempting to draw her out of her melancholy mood. Root slowly redirects her attention from the stars to Shaw. “Wanna fuck me on the hood this truck?”
“So romantic,” Root drawls sarcastically.
Shaw shrugs, shifts away from her a little. Then, with a flash of movement Shaw can barely track and a thud of her knees on metal, Root’s above her. One hand playing with the button of Shaw’s jeans, the other sliding up to her neck. Root leans down close to Shaw, her breathing heavy and breath hot next to Shaw’s ear as she says “I didn’t say no.”
Eventually, the hood becomes uncomfortable. It’s a warm night, with not a cloud nor any bugs in sight, so they don’t bother with their tent. They just zip their sleeping bags together into one then lay it on top of some blankets in the bed of the truck. They crawl into the joined sleeping bag together. After a bit of shifting around to get comfortable, Shaw ends up laying on her back with Root curled against her left side and the little stuffed Bear tucked under right arm.
They’re both physically exhausted, though thanks to napping while Root drove earlier Shaw isn’t quite ready to sleep yet. She lays on her back, staring up at the stars. It’s a sight she rarely sees spending most of her time in the city, and one she never especially cared for. But she’s found that she’s become used to it over the last week.
“You realize the Machine basically sent us on a cliché small town date, right?” Shaw says, voicing something she’s been thinking most of the evening. She speaks softly, to not disturb Root in case she’s asleep.
“I s’pose,” Root says almost a full minute later. Her sleepy voice is muffled by her face being snuggled up against Shaw’s shoulder. “Was still nice. Got to spend the day with you.”
Shaw will admit, to herself at least, that it wasn’t so bad. But that won’t stop her from trying to figure out how to kick the Machine’s meddling ass when she gets back to the city.