Shoot Week prompt: Established couple, years after Samaritan got their hands on Shaw. Root never asked the Machine about what happened to Shaw during that time, she's not sure she wants to know. One night, Shaw opens up. Part one in the If I ever give you up (my heart will surely fail) series.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Possible trigger warnings: mentions of torture and undiagnosed PTSD.
Shout out to my beta reader Nataliving.
"You have sixty seconds!" Shaw shouted at the four people in front of her, each sitting at a long, metal table with a small explosive in front of them. "If you don't dismantle the bomb by then, you're doing suicides after class."
Shaw leaned against the wall opposite of the group and glanced at the watch on her wrist. She had been training this group of ISA agents-to-be for three weeks. It was a boring and thankless job, but for this point in her life, it was what she needed.
She watched the four – two former Marines, a former Navy Seal and a former FBI agent – struggle with the bomb in front of them (that when "exploded" only poofs out smoke), when finally three of them smiled and set back. "Ten, nine, eight," Shaw counted down, eyeing the last recruit who had his lip bitten and tweezers toying with the wires, "three, two, one."
"You three are dismissed," Shaw told them. "You," she directed at the man – one of the ex-Marines - who groaned as smoke trailed out of his bomb. "Go out to the track. Suicides for thirty minutes. Now."
Thirty-five minutes later, Shaw sent him home and went back to her office inside the ISA training facility in the basement to grab her training manuals and bag. It was a Monday evening and she had told Root she'd be home by 6:30 p.m. and it was already 7:00 p.m. "Shit," Shaw whispered to herself as she noticed the clock on the left of her desk (right next to a photograph of her and Root she had pinned on the wall – not that she'd ever tell Root that). Shaw quickly sent a text to Root saying she'd be running late, and grabbed her book bag and stuffed her training manuals and lesson plans in it to study during the night.
Slinging the book bag over her shoulder, she made her way to the elevator. Shaw pressed the "up" button but was soon joined by another.
"Agent Shaw."
"Ma'am," Shaw growled, continuing to stare at the elevator instead of the woman who sidled up to the side of her. The last time she had spoken to the woman- whose face seems more gaunt than she's ever seen and her gray hair had begun to thin - was six months ago to discuss the job opportunity that would afford Shaw a more... domestic life than that of a rogue operative.
"How are the new recruits?" Control asked, staring at the elevator doors as well.
"Lazy," Shaw said, "but I can whip them into shape before their training is over."
"I have no doubt," Shaw's superior stated, in an almost complimentary tone. Control stepped in front of Shaw just as the elevator doors dinged open. "I need you to come with me to my office, Agent Shaw."
Shaw rolled her eyes. "Training already went an hour over schedule. I need to get home, ma'am."
"Your wife can wait -"
"Not my wife," Shaw interjected.
"- for you until after our meeting. Come with me. Now."
The elevator doors shut and Shaw sighed, having no choice but to follow Control as she walked down the hallway to the left. Shit, Shaw huffed, not knowing what this was about. She followed the white concrete lined wall, past doors upon doors that she has never even entered, to the very last door.
Control entered the office - one barred window, one desk and computer in the middle of the space, and a swinging light above the desk - and opened a drawer in the desk, only to rummage through it to find a manila folder and toss it on the desk.
Shaw narrowed her eyes. "What is it?" She asked, pointing to the folder.
"Open it and find out."
Shaw gingerly approached the desk and picked up the folder. Inside was a packed of instructions, titled Unexpected Circumstances 101. Shaw furrowed her eyes and flipped through the papers. "I'm sorry, what is this?"
"The ISA has decided to implement a new program to the recruitments' training," Control explained. "One of our government's biggest weaknesses is capture of our operatives and the risk of them spilling certain secrets. We need to prepare our operatives for possible... scenarios."
"Scenarios. You mean being captured."
"Yes."
"... And tortured," Shaw said slowly, putting the pieces together.
Martine.
A gun and three bullets.
I sincerely hope you managed to get some rest, my dear Sameen. You're going to need it.
Her fingers tightened around the papers, crushing them. "No, this is bull," Shaw growled. "I'm not going to put my recruits through any of this."
"Yes, you are," the woman sitting at the desk explained. "And the ISA has already thought out the protocols and what needs to be included in the training. Think of it as two weeks of physical training. Anyone can handle five minutes of water boarding. It is just to give them a taste of what could happen. You aren't going to put your agents through anything that would cause any permanent physical damage."
"No, I -" Shaw shook her head and threw the papers back on the desk. "I'm not the right person to do this. I won't."
"Oh, Agent Shaw, you are the perfect person to do this. In fact, of all our ISA agents, you are the only one to undergo, well, extensive torture, which makes you exactly what we need. And you know exactly how much a person can take before they break."
A needle piercing skin.
A dark figure looming above her, whispering.
"How does the Machine communicate with Harold Finch and Miss Groves?"
Eyes blurring.
Another needle and another shot of scopolamine.
Shaw gaped. "I did not break."
"Yes you did," Control stated. "And it is your job to make sure these new recruits don't."
"I was held hostage for months," Shaw growled, "and I may have had one slip up but that does not constitute as breaking. I was there for nine fucking months and came out of it so do not talk about what you do not know. Hell, I managed to help you escape Samaritan facilities so do not talk about me breaking as if I am that fragile."
Obey.
Authority.
Scalpel at the bottom of the neck. Slicing.
The other woman smirked. "Exactly. You bounced back. You learned and after your one - how'd you put it? - slip up, you lasted for another seven months. This makes you perfect, Agent Shaw. You know how much a person can take. Your country needs you to teach that."
Throbbing began at the back of her neck and Shaw instinctively clasped it with her hand as if to deafen it and closed her eyes. "You need to get another person to do this."
Control left the folder on the desk and walked past Shaw. "You'll start the training in the morning."
Torture is a slow process. No one tells you that, Shaw realized. They don't begin with pain.
They begin with threats. There is no point with getting blood on the floor and making a mess if they can get the information wanted with just a threat.
That only lasts so long though.
A small boxer puppy greeted Shaw when she opened the door to the row house located twenty minutes away from the ISA training facility. "Hi, buddy," she whispered as the boxer jumped on her.
He let off her and wagged his tail before trotting to the kitchen; Shaw followed and her nose whiffed a burning smell.
Root stood at the stove, waving her hand to get rid of the smoke coming from the oven. Shaw rolled her eyes and reached around the woman to turn of the stove.
"Root," she murmured in her ear, "what are you doing?"
Root spun around and grabbed both of Shaw's hands. "Hi," she smiled. "You were late so I decided to cook dinner for once. Or, try. It was a new recipe."
Shaw shook her head. "You can't cook anything. And thankfully, for me, I know that. Go sit down; I brought us take-out."
"Perfect," Root said, pecking Shaw's nose and watched as it scrunched up. "What'd you get me?"
Shaw revealed two bags from China Boy. "Your favorite," she said and handed a bag to Root.
Root's ears perked up as she peeked in the bag that revealed BBQ pork rice noodle crepes. "Mhmm, thank you, sweetie."
Shaw nodded in response and grabbed the food for herself and moved to sit on the couch in the living room. She could feel Root's eyes on her but didn't turn around to the kitchen to acknowledge her.
"You're not going to join me at the counter?" Shaw heard behind her and she shook her head, ignoring Root's gaze. She pulled Unexpected Circumstances 101 out of her bag and plopped it on the coffee table in front of her. She opened her box, ate her first bite of beef chow fun, and flipped the training guide to the first page and began to read.
Sleep Deprivation: Reported to be an extremely effective way to disturb even the most hardnosed of suspects, sleep deprivation involves keeping a suspect awake for a long period of time – typically several days - until they part with vital information.
Left to Stand: Amazingly simple, but highly effective, this method of interrogation involves the suspect being made to stand on the spot, often handcuffed, for a prolonged period of time; up to 40 hours in many cases. Due to the fact that they are forced to stand, suspects also suffer from
Not bothering to finish the page, Shaw shoved the manual off the coffee table and closed her eyes, bringing her fingers up to her temples rub the piercing noise out of her head.
She felt Root sit beside her on the couch five minutes later -Of course she would, Shaw thought - and they both continued to eat in silence, Root ignoring the papers on the floors and Shaw ignoring Root's furtive glances at her and concentrated on blocking out the ringing in her ears.
"So Chase wants me to hack into their new system." Root broke the silence. "They were a good paycheck last time, and they definitely need the help. It took six hours last time for them to realize I had hacked their system. That's billions of dollars that would have been gone."
Shaw nudged her elbow at Root. "You're good at getting the drop on people. And firewalls." The ringing lessened.
"I'm good at a lot of things," Root said, an innuendo dripping from her lips.
Shaw rolled her eyes and got up, padding to the fridge to grab a beer. "You want one?"
Root shook her head and Shaw shrugged, opening the cap and let the cold liquid numb her. Beer clutched in her hand, Shaw picked up the strewn ISA manual, the words "sensory bombardment" and "isolation" popping out at her.
"She's not looking for you anymore."
Bright, luminous lights shining in the eyes.
Screaming. Punching. Yelling.
Impact to the jugular.
Shaw's breathing became unsteady and she dropped the papers again and turned, not bothering to pick them up or look at Root.
She walked to their bedroom with the beer and began changing out of her clothes and into a black sports bra and shorts. She heard Root pad into the room, hesitating at the door.
"Hey," Root said softly. "You want to tell me what's going on?"
Shaw's legs slipped through the gray shorts. "Nothing."
Root smiled softly. "Sameen - "
"Stop it, Root."
Root's hand lingered on the doorknob. "Are you going to bed already?" She asked as Shaw fluffed her pillow.
"I'm tired and have to be at work early." Shaw climbed under the covers and turned off the lamp next to her.
Half an hour passed and she was almost asleep when Root shuffled into bed beside her. With a huff, Root slid her arm under Shaw's back and kissed her shoulder.
"You don't have to be pissed at me for asking how your day was, you know."
Shaw pursed her lips. "I don't want to talk about it. It'd be great if you can respect that. If not, you can go sleep on the couch with Copper tonight."
She opened her eyes to see Root's staring back at her in the dark. Shaw sighed, "It was just a bad day. I'll try to be less of an asshole tomorrow."
Root tilted her head and Shaw burrowed her face in her pillow to avoid Root's gaze. Root had a habit of looking at her in a way that unnerved her unlike anyone else; it made Shaw want to kiss her and punch her at the same time. Mainly just kiss nowadays except for this moment when it was making her feel… small.
She felt Root's fingers weave through her hair and then fiddle over the small bump on the back of Shaw's neck.
"I love you," Shaw heard Root whisper into her ear. She intertwined her fingers with Root's as a reply before she was taken in by sleep.
Root woke up in the morning to a lipstick-drawn heart in the corner of their bathroom mirror.
She had always prided herself on being a loner; her parents died young and she never had any close friends but she never liked people anyway. She always believed Cole to be a one-off; she never expected to develop a bond or connection again and that was fine.
Or at least, she thought that was fine. She never realized how lonely life was until she was stuck in confinement or a wet basement for months with no one but yourself.
You begin to talk to yourself after a while, Shaw finds out. Making up riddles that only she knows the answer to and she laughs more than she ever has and Shaw doesn't know if that was the isolation, drugs or dehydration.
She imagines a gentleman with glasses breaking into Samaritan's system and a graying talk-dark-and-handsome man shooting kneecaps. She hears a dog's barking.
Most of all, Shaw dreams about a woman and zip ties and pressure on the wrists with lips to her neck and "There are things I care about here" and how she never actually said out loud that it is her that she cares about here and -
Loneliness drives you insane after a while, Shaw finds out.
Shaw's hands gripped the steering wheel in a vice grip. Today had been the first day of what she liked to call "How to survived torture without giving into the enemy 101."
Two agents vomited after finding out how much electroshock a body can take before shutting down - the ISA had protocol so they stopped fifteen minutes before that could happen - and Shaw almost followed them into the bathroom to do the same.
When she was in training for the ISA, Shaw had spent three months learning how to shoot a running target with any weapon possible, how to cover your tracks. She studied maps and languages. She pumped iron in the gym and spent hours learning offense and defense in kick boxing and wrestling.
They never did anything like this.
Her body shook in the car and she rested her head on the steering wheel, forcing herself to calm down and take deep breaths.
She heard screaming - or thought she heard - and realized that it had been coming from her mouth.
Four fingers and nose broken.
Electricity shock to the kidney area.
Obey.
Authority.
Command.
"No one is coming for you."
A transmitter and nerves twitching.
Shaw was going to kill Control one day when she quit this job.
She didn't go straight home after work. Two bars are on her route and she headed into the one closest to her and Root's house after work. Shots of whiskey had delightfully burned her throat until the bartender cut her off.
Which is why Shaw ended up at home, drinking wine and feeling little dizzy.
She had been at the house for an hour and had already drunk two thirds of the bottle of wine Root had stashed away. Copper whined at her as she swayed on her feet, palming the wall so she would not lose her balance lose her balance.
Keeping close to the wall, she stumbled to the couch and plopped down on it, white wine spilling on the cushion. She heard the dangle of keys opening the door and Root's soft whisper of her name.
"Rooooot," Shaw whined. "Come join me."
Root smiled down at her. "I would, but you seem to be drunk enough for the both of us."
Shaw shook her head before quickly sitting up and jerking Root by the arm. Root crashed onto the couch. "What the hell, Shaw?"
"I want to tell you something."
"Alright..." Root raised her eyebrow before taking the bottle away from her. "You don't want to tell me later?"
"No, because I won't tell you later," Shaw said, smiling wide. "I was tortured."
Root bit her lip and scooted back on the couch. "Shaw..."
"You know that. The Machine told you."
Root hesitated, "Yes, we all knew but...Shaw, I never asked Her."
"You expect me to believe that?"
Root tilted her head and Shaw could see the flash of hurt in her eyes; she swallowed it down.
"Sameen, I wanted you to tell me. When you were ready. Preferably sober."
"I was tortured," Shaw said again, staring down at her fingers so she wouldn't have to look at Root. "That doesn't mean – I'm not weak - "
"No one thinks -" Root began but Shaw clasped her hand over her mouth.
"Do you hate me?"
Root remained silent, unsure of what to say because of course she doesn't but she didn't know what Shaw needed to hear. "Why do you think I would?" Root said once Shaw released her lips.
"Because of the phone call. And telling Martine and -"
Root's eyebrows furrowed. "What is going on?"
"Do you know what they did to me?" Shaw leaned forward and set her forehead on Root's shoulder. "When I was with them? The things they did, hurt like a bitch, but nothing I haven't experienced before. Then the drugging started and - I don't even know what was happening to my body, I just - I couldn't help it. I think I was hallucinating, I'm not sure but that's - that's when I -"
She cut herself off and buried her face in Root's neck. "I didn't mean to give you up. I don't even know what was - I can't remember much of that time." Shaw felt Root squeeze her arm "There were a lot of drugs in my body and - I thought I saw you but it wasn't you and -"
Root had been rubbing her hand up and down Shaw's arm and Shaw's free hand grabbed it to stop it. Root's hand paused underneath Shaw's and she moved her thumb back and forth.
"Ask the Machine what happened next," Shaw demanded, pulling Root's hand off of her.
Root's eyes flickered off of Shaw for a second before returning to meet her gaze. "She doesn't talk to me anymore, you know that."
"You really think I believe she didn't tell you anything?"
"What do you need from me, Sameen?" Root asked softly, obviously worried by now.
Shaw's lips moved up Root's neck. "I just want you for the night. I didn't have you for nine months."
"You've had me for two years."
"But I didn't then."
"I'm not sleeping with you when you're like this and something is clearly wrong," Root said, straining away from Shaw's lips.
"That's not what I meant."
Root opened her mouth to contest, but Shaw took her hand and led them into the bedroom, bringing them both to lie down on the bed. Shaw wrapped her body around Root and tangled their legs, breathing her in and closing her eyes. Root shifted a bit before Shaw's hand came to her hip to hold her still.
"What are you doing, Shaw?" Root wondered aloud to no answer.
"Just stay with me, okay?" Shaw whispered a few minutes later, too low for Root to hear, as they drifted off to sleep.
Shaw woke up to sun beaming in her eyes and a splitting head ache. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and shot up when she read it was 10:01 a.m.
"Fuck," Shaw scampered to put on clothes that didn't smell of alcohol. "Shit, shit, shit."
Root came into the room with coffee just as Shaw fell over trying to haphazardly put her right leg into black dress pants. "You know, as much fun as it is to watch you completely spaz out, you can relax. I called that bitch boss of yours," Shaw snorted at Root's name for Control, "early this morning and told her under no circumstances would you be coming in today. Brooks is covering for you."
"Root," Shaw drawled, "I can't just play hooky with the U.S. government."
"You can when your mental health is at stake. And you and I both know you won't do anything to help yourself so I took the liberty of dealing with some things for you." Root set the mug of coffee on the dresser and Shaw's desire to punch something flared up. "You aren't going into work today and neither am I. I talked with the Big Lug an hour ago and he's willing to come to D.C. this weekend if you'd like. Or you can talk with the therapist that is on hire for the ISA. I have her card and her email address. Or," Root stepped closer to Shaw, "you can skip all that and talk to me, not under the influence."
Shaw refused to look at Root, instead staring at nothing on the wall beside Root. "I can't believe you're doing this to me."
"You do things for people you care about," Root said, staring down at her shoes. "And this isn't the first time this has happened since – since you came back."
"No," Shaw shook her head. "I'm not doing this." She tried to side-step Root and go out the bedroom door, but Root grabbed her wrist. "Let go of me, Root."
Root slowly unclasped her hand from Shaw's wrist and Shaw swiftly shoved Root against the door. They remained at a stand-still for what seemed like ages – Root's stare unwavering, wincing slightly, and Shaw's grip tightening on Root's shoulders - before Shaw freed Root and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. A decision had been made.
"I don't want to hear about any of this from you after today," Shaw began and Root hesitantly sat beside her. "Unless I bring it up. You have to promise me that."
"Okay," Root said automatically.
Shaw glared, unconvinced. "Root."
"Okay," Root assured.
Shaw gulped. "Decima took me to some off-site facility, after the asylum," She began, scooting closer to Root. "Everything kind of blends in together, but I think I was there for the - for the rest of the time. Some doctor implanted the Micro Transponder." She instinctively grabbed the back of her neck, where a raised bump still remained, entrapping the microchip.
"They asked me a lot of questions and when I didn't answer the transponder triggered my nervous system. Feeling certain parts of my body go numb... it's a bit unnerving. After that, Decima did everything you'd think they would. Broke some of my bones -" Shaw felt Root's chest heave with an intake of breath, " - water boarding, no food or water..." Shaw trailed off.
"Sameen," Root whispered. "You're not there anymore. You're with me, you're not there."
Shaw stiffened. "I know I'm not."
"Then what…" Root trailed off, both of them noticing her refusal to say "trigger."
Shaw leaned away from Root. "I'm teaching ISA operatives how to withstand torture and not give away government secrets. And it just..."
"... brought up that past," Root inferred. "Sameen, the ISA offered you therapy when you began working for them. You can still take them up on that -"
"Therapy doesn't work on people like me," Shaw hissed. "I went when I was a kid. It doesn't - it doesn't work on me. Sociopath, remember?"
Root smirked. "A sociopath that cares."
"Yea," Shaw admitted to Root's surprise. "Root, they put me in a cage. For months in a dingy basement alone. The guards who came to give me food didn't talk to me. I just... it starts to mess with your mind."
Root was biting her bottom lip and Shaw could tell Root's anxiety was heightening. Shaw quickly kissed Root's temple to try and soothe her before continuing. "You have no idea, Root, what was happening to my mind. I talked to you. I had full conversations with you but it wasn't with you. And I know we were involved before then, but I really didn't know if I wanted to be with you - or if I could be with you. I really didn't. But..."
Shaw fiddled with her fingers before continuing. "I dreamt about you a lot. About you flirting or... It sucked, big time. And I couldn't tell you or anyone because I was alone. I was alone. And the worst part is I didn't want to be."
They both sat in silence, Shaw staring out the window and Root staring at Shaw. Shaw could hear her heart pounding and Copper's breathing and then Root's face was coming closer -
"I know," Root said quietly, breaking the silence, touching their foreheads together. "You're not broken. You're not alone. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about those months."
Shaw moved her head to kiss Root. "Don't leave me," Shaw said, breaking the kiss. She held her breath - she never doubted Root's love for her, but it was the first time Root had heard anything more than "There are things I care about here" and "You are important to me."
Root laughed. "You've been stuck with me since I was Veronica Sinclair, you know."
"That's not very reassuring!"
"Oh, I don't know, I think you liked her well enough."
"You were going to put an iron on me, Root -" Root quickly shut Shaw up with a kiss.
"I love you," Root said, into the kiss.
Shaw intertwined their fingers and nodded.
Thank you for reading! If you liked my fic, you should follow me on tumblr at seekingoutfriay.
The part where Shaw reads about interrogation techniques is taken directly from National Geographic Channel.