A/N: I have a thing with these two and balconies. This is set between seasons 3 and 4, because how could you not fall in love with them during "Deus Ex Machina"?
"Like Fire and Powder"
by AmethystB
Maybe it's not a good idea. She stitches scenarios like bodies and comes up with no righteous path.
Feelings she can't have flood through her as she sits, unburdened, on a balcony free from prying eyes. It's powerful, being unseen in a world full of sight. Tonight might be just what she needs.
A beer bottle clinks against her own and the hollow sound rings out in the silence.
"I'll drink to that," she says pointedly. They know the silence too well.
"Sorry it's been so long."
A snort, a quiet punitive exchange between them. "You missed an entire season. It's getting hot again."
"I noticed." Root runs her gaze from Sameen's eyes down her tight black dress, down to the legs exposed past her knees. "This new job suits you well."
Shaw sips deep from the bottle, hoping to disguise the blush forming with the swell of alcohol.
"So, you're back? Or are you just here to be a pain in my ass?"
Root smiles, drinking deep from her own beer. Shaw watches the movement of her lips, her throat. She decides this is a bad idea, but like anything between them she feels she can't walk away.
"I just want to see you."
"No one else can see us, right? Not Samaritan, or.."
"There are no cameras here, Sameen. We're safe."
Root saying her name sends a strange message quivering through her nerves. The absence of that feeling reels in a peculiar sense of loneliness. A sense of foreboding like she'd felt when she had said goodbye a month and a bit ago.
"What are you doing these days?" she asks, not because she's interested.
"What needs to be done."
They look out to the moon, a small globe circling the Empire State. The monoliths of the city dwarfing its people, only to be dwarfed themselves by the eyes that see everything.
Their balcony reflects out to the world. They see into it, a dark quiet falling between them. What has the world become?
"You left," Shaw says plainly.
"We agreed," Root replies evenly.
"I know."
Shaw finishes her beer, reaches for another from the table that divides them. It's warm from the night's air. She drinks regardless.
In the distance a light switches off, a room in a floor in a tower.
They're so small.
"Jason called me," Shaw offers daringly. "He's worried about you."
"I know."
"He likes you," she says with a smirk.
A moth strays over to the lit lantern on the edge of the table, ducks underneath its cover to hover by the flame. Its indecision casts wry shadows on the faces of the two women.
Root takes another beer, twists the cap and sips. With her dark jeans and black top, leather jacket tight across her shoulders, Shaw knows a job isn't far behind her. She almost feels bad about the jab about Jason.
"I guess we're all frustrated," Shaw relinquishes. She hasn't heard from Finch, or Reese. Root's reappearance makes her edgy.
"The balcony makes up for it," Root says softly. "I can breathe easier."
Shaw finishes her second beer, picks up another and tries not to think anymore. It's easier where she can't think. Where she doesn't need to.
It's unspoken between them, this thing. But it's stronger than anything they've known.
Under a kind of influence, Shaw wonders, "What is it you want from me?"
But knowing the answer is nothing the two sit in silence and drink on.
The moth bats against the side of the lantern. Root picks it up from its handle and places it gently on the ground, out of sight. A darkness blankets them.
"Can we beat it? This thing—Samaritan?"
Root stays silent. Shaw knows it's a futile question.
"It's getting cold out here," Shaw says, despite the warmth.
It isn't a tender moment, what follows. Born from necessity, a want so strong, their moment bleeds and curses and bites. A moment like any other, that could be their last.
fin.