Your first thought after Root appears out of nowhere: You're going to die. Again. And just when you'd started believing it was real, too.

So you pull out a gun, about to do what you've already done some 7,000 times before - and then Root mirrors you, and you think goddamn everything to hell, and you pause.

You watched her watch you kill yourself over 7,000 times, and yet you can't make yourself watch her do it once.

You don't listen to the words she says. You know she means what she says, you know Root is desperate and crazy and in love enough to never have even considered bluffing, know she will pull the trigger at a moment's notice, same as you.

What you want to know is how Samaritan figured it out, because you've always, however briefly, been able to spot when there's something off, about her, but you can't now, and you're trying very very hard.

You watch her, instead. Watch her hand that never trembles hold a gun to her throat, watch her eyes that barely contain tears, and how her face is almost gaunt and makeup can't quite hide shadows underneath her eyes, watch how her other arm is stiffer, as if her shoulder has been hit by yet another bullet, notice her hair that used to not have a strand out of place is far less perfect, catch the eyes that stream tears and desperation.

You remember how Root used to always give you that cryptic smile, when you'd land yourself in her situations, remember her answer when you finally asked: "You're unpredictable, Sameen."

And you'd realized, watching elevators doors close, spinning to your death with no one to help you, that she'd meant the Machine couldn't always calculate you into its simulations.

You watch Root, stoic, gun in hand and ready to die (for you) and you think it's fitting that Root is the only one that Samaritan can't map.

You force your brain to stop running through facts and you don't drop your gun but you take it away from your head ever so slowly, until it's stashed in your pocket.

You can tell, by the slight shaking of Root's shoulders as she does the same, that she's relieved.

She thought you were going to kill yourself.

You thought she was going to do the same, and that thought nearly killed you.

She approaches you more slowly, this time, and you do nothing to stop her, and soon her arms are around you again, and you can feel her shaking against you.

Your eyes seek out the park, scanning and scanning repeatedly, but there is no one.

It seems impossible to think that Samaritan has not followed you here, but your ears do not play tricks, even if your eyes do. There is nothing.

Your eyes return back Root, and, hesitantly, (because everything good may as well just be a dream) you wrap your arms around her.

Reality doesn't collapse in on itself, and nor are you suddenly lying on a hospital bed, so you quell the urge to search the area, again, and you let yourself bury your head in her shoulder. She smells like gunpowder and dried-blood and Bear and basil-scented shampoo, somehow not at all alarming and only comforting, and you think that Samaritan never came close.

You think that, if this was a simulation, the hug would be more than just a hug, and, although against your every will, you actually fell in love with Root, the two of you flirted, however reluctantly on your part, and then you kissed. Once. (And then you meant to die and woke up prisoner.)

You remember every moment just after your reality shattered, when you knew you were dreaming, again, just another simulation - you never knew why, but it was always with Root, and you'd always whisper the same words back.

"You were my safe place."

And then you'd finger the gun in your hand, bracing yourself even knowing nothing was real -

"But not anymore."

You know it's not true - Root is your safe place, over and over again, and you finally understand what it's like to love someone - but you know you'll never tell her, at least not for a good few months, if you even have that, because you're starting to believe in this, and if you tell her it'll all go away.

She isn't crying, even if you're sure there were tears seeping out of her eyes, earlier, but her body is still trembling, and you're sure this hug is every bit her reassuring herself that you are alive as it is you doing the same.

You've closed your eyes, but the unknowing and this comfort you are unused to is finally too much, and you tap her shoulder twice.

They're gentle taps, but she springs away like fire has burned her, and you do another quick scan of the area before your eyes land back on her.

"I never stopped looking for you."

You remember the conviction in Root's simulated-voice, when she'd said it. Earnest and desperate for you to believe her.

You look at her now, and you know for sure there's not a chance in hell she ever stopped looking for you - and Samaritan's occasional spouting of the fact only makes you more certain.

You hold out your hand, and wait until she follows, then intertwine your fingers with hers.

Her echo of a smile is back, and you don't even attempt one but you squeeze her hand once, and you know it's enough.

Your hand is enough to remind her that you're alive.

Hers is enough to remind you that this is real.

You watch her as she makes a call to Finch, and follow her reluctantly through shadowed areas after she promises you you're not going back to the subway. (Root may be enough to put doubt in the fact that this is just another simulation, but you're not stupid enough to potentially lead them directly to their hideout.)

You don't expect to end up in sunlight, everyone standing around in a circle under the Brooklyn Bridge looking like they're gonna win this.

Root beckons, and so you join this ridiculous circle too, and suddenly Finch and John and Fusco and Root are all smiling around you, and you can't help but actually attempt a smile too.

It isn't perfect, and far from it, but standing surrounded by your team, knowing they've got some kind of one in a million chance plan up their sleeves, you can't help but think that this is real.

And then Root squeezes your hand, and you resist the urge to check for the Samaritan tracking device that isn't there.

This is real, you think.

This is real.