Chapter I.
You wake to the emptiness to the bed. Sitting up in shock as to whether or not you are still in simulation. But it couldn't be. You felt it all. Touching her. Kissing her. The raw and primal afflictions. Fuck. How could you forget? Your eyes scanned the room for any sign of her or somebody, ready to be in an offensive position in case Samaritan had found you. Your body is sore and your throat is dry. Slowly you make your way out of bed, getting the 9mm out of the night stand just where you'd left it. You brace yourself and start to clear the bedroom. No sign of Root. You charge towards the living room and find Root sitting in the threshold of the window. She's staring outside with a solemn look on her face and finally turned towards you with a small smile growing on her face.
"You sure know how to show a girl a good time, Sameen." She said, eyeing you up and down with a glint in her eye. You roll your eyes and lower your gun and realized you hadn't put a top on before raiding the house. You hadn't any shame. Her eyes pierced yours and then she went back to looking outside.
"I'm going to shower," you say while putting your gun on the table. She tipped her head onto the glass and nodded.
"Will you be here when I get out?" She turns towards you with confusion shown on her face.
"You should know by now that you pointing a gun at me is just foreplay." She smirked. "You're going to have to try a little harder to make me leave, Sam." Your eyes narrow.
"I don't need a babysitter," you say flatly. "But— "visions on the previous night flickered through your head. Questions began flooding your mind. How did you get out alive? How long has it been since you've seen the team? You don't want to think about it. "I guess I don't mind the company." You turn and grab a towel and underwear and went off to shower. Once you were under the hot streaks of water your body relaxes. You didn't realize how sore your body actually was. You'd thinned out too. You'd have to build your eating skills back up and get some damn protein. You stand in the steady stream of water and let it melt the soreness from your muscles.
After cleaning up, you return to your quest of finding clothes and retired to the usual black outfit. You find Root laying on the couch, sleeping. You wonder if she slept last night. You wonder how she found where you were. Can she still hear the machine? Why haven't you seen Reese or Finch? The questions grew exponentially.
You sit down at the foot of the couch with your back against it, keeping your eyes trained on Root. You remember her long before submitting yourself to Samaritan and being subject to countless simulations and experiments, which, even then, she occupied. She's annoying. Never fearing rejection in her attempt to make sexual advances or right shit puns. Always getting herself into situations without thinking ahead; especially in gunfire. Ever devoted to the entity she calls her God. Is the only woman you know that considers torturing another form of foreplay. A smirk. But only because you've never met someone who enjoys pain during intercourse like you do. Because as much as Root could ruin you, you'd throw yourself into her fire without a second thought.
She livens your spirit. You'd never admit it, but there's a part of you that thirsts for her even in the intense heat of you anger. Before you know it you're wrapped up in your thoughts and unconsciously stroking her hair out of her face and behind her good ear. She lost her other ear to Control. But, then again, she wasn't the only person to lose something. During your time with Samaritan you were sure you'd lost yourself. In fact, you still don't feel like you've grounded yourself enough to be able trust that this is all real. That you can feel Root's skin under your fingertips or the slow lull of pain from sitting on the floor for too long. It's been a long time of involuntarily having to feel things that you forgot what made you feel good. You'd felt good last night, that was undeniable. Why can you only stand to feel good with Root?
Your hands fall from her face and you stand to get up. She grabs your back pant pocket and attempts to pull you towards her with tired muscles. She's looking up and you with eyes that are telling you to stay and its understood. You don't talk. Hell, if most of your communication could be sought out through mannerisms and facial expressions, you'd be set. Instead of brushing her off you sit down and lean your back against her hips and she curls around you. Your eyes shut and you feel feather light movements on you hand. You don't reject. You don't know how to express your gratitude for her saving you, so this will do. Her fingers don't stray from your hand and you can feel her outlining your bones. Silence. Your mind takes flight. Flashes of her appearing behind your closed eyelids and you wonder, how could you look at her every time and feel something? It's fleeting. An emotion, maybe? You wish you could distinguish but you know you weren't built for that. What is it?
"You know," she pauses before continuing and you can feel her eyes on you.
"I never stopped looking for you. It was excruciating thinking you'd might have left the earth without me being able to stop it. She never gave me much information except that you were out there alive. And I still think that if I could've— "her voice cracks and your eyes open dimly.
"Stop." The word came out harsher than you meant it. Her body twitches against you and you can feel her holding in tears. You get up and cradle her body in your arms before lifting her and taking her to your bed to lay her down. You feel the warmth of her tears spilling onto your arm. Lifting the covers up you get in behind her and pull the covers over you both. With your arms wrapped around her torso, you ease her discomfort in the beset way you think you can. She cries and lets you hold her This must be the most vulnerable you've seen her and it makes you wonder how many times she's done this. You wonder what it feels like. Its moments like this that you hate you can't understand emotions. You're a brick wall. Root's hurting is different. You'd never thought of the impact of being gone would have done to her.
You've thought about her. At least you thought you had. In simulation. She was the only person that you couldn't separate from. It would be daring to assume that she was as much as her hopes would be. You know the way she feels about you. You could feel it when she touched you. Her small nuances when she talked to you. How she looked at you in and out of gunfire. There was something there and it wasn't that you couldn't return it, you just don't want to identify it.
She's fallen asleep again. You dig your head into her hair. You missed her smell. It provides a sense of safety that only your guns have. You breath her in and fall into your own slumber.
There's a sound. A loud thump that raises you. Samaritan has found your coordinates and they're in your apartment. Root is nowhere to be found. Your guns are nowhere to be found and you're left to your own devices. You can hear their light footsteps gaining momentum. Four operatives carefully scanning the layout. Your heartbeat is in your in ears. Hand to hand combat will be your savior till you can gain access to one of their weapons. Slowly your body creeps out of bed and against the wall of your bedroom. One of the flash lights permeates the room and an operative begins to enter. Before they spot you you grab them into a choke hold and onto the floor.
The disturbance brings about the others and you grab and fire the gun at the unconscious operative. They halt for a minute then proceed. You rain fire from behind the door and the response is well received from the gunfire you can feel coming your way. You've been hit in the abdomen. You fall forward and catch yourself. Attempting to keep your resolve to save your own self from death but it's too late. You're held at gun point by two operatives and before you can react all you can see is one pulling the trigger.