Disclaimer: I wouldn't be in so much denial if I owned the show, now would I?
001.
"Of all sad words of mouth or pen, the saddest are these: it might have been."
i. THE MACHINE
The armed men had left their vehicles exactly four minutes and twenty eight seconds ago, leaving the street quiet. She cannot pick up any sounds from inside the safe house. The camera on the corner sits stoically, red light flashing, as the machine inside it calculates and recalculates statistics for the people inside.
A burst of noise on the street draws Her attention. Four men exit onto the sidewalk, before exchanging firearms and splitting into pairs. She takes inventory.
ADMIN; Finch, Harold.
PRIMARY ASSET; Reese, John.
ASSET; Fusco, Lionel P.
NON-RELEVANT; Elias, Carl.
No sign of the others. The next wave of agents is still five minutes out. She turns Her focus back to the top floor, which is still suspiciously silent. The curtain flickers, and Sameen Shaw's gaze scans the street. Within the safe house, the wireless connection turns back on, and She can see and hear once again.
With a click, Root's crackling voice floods back into the system. "How are we looking?"
"Next wave of agents is four minutes away. I advise you and Agent Shaw to prepare."
Root casts a glance around the room. Shaw is currently rifling through the dead agents' pockets, an air of content around her. "We will be, don't worry," she responds lightly. Root meanders back over toward Shaw, the Machine a silent presence as they wait for the incoming agents.
Seconds tick by in the system, while the Machine buzzes through thousands of potential outcomes. She picks the one that would give them the best chances with the new agents – which includes a well-placed police blockade – and tunes back into her interface's earpiece. Root and Shaw sit shoulder to shoulder on the couch, ending a conversation the Machine has missed. Root tentatively reaches over and entwines her hand with Shaw's, who grips back. Gazes meet and before the Machine can interrupt, Shaw leans over and presses her lips against Root's. It is gentle, unlike their last encounter, shy and soft. The Machine stays silent.
They pull away, a smile slowly forming on Root's lips. Even Shaw looks peaceful.
"What's your Machine saying now?" she asks, tracing patterns on the back of Root's hand.
"She's quiet, actually. Why?"
Shaw's gaze skirts the room; she pauses. "Do you think She plans for us to survive this? We lost each other once, Root. You and I both know we can't walk away now but…there could be another life. After we finish this."
"A chance to live the lives we wanted," Root finishes softly. Shaw nods. "I dunno, Sameen, you don't really strike me as the white picket fence type of girl."
A huff of annoyance escapes Shaw's mouth, accompanied with an eye roll and the beginnings of a smile. "Jeez, Root, do you take anything seriously?"
"Of course," the hacker scoffs, before sobering. "To be honest, I'm not even sure if She knows yet. But I don't plan on leaving you behind again."
Shaw quirks an eyebrow. "I was the one who left, Root. I should be the one staying with you."
"So long as we're together, right?" Root asks, a hint of apprehension in her lighthearted tone. Shaw nods and whispers yeah, her thumb rubbing methodically on Root's hand. Peace would last two minutes and thirteen seconds.
Harold had coded the Machine to understand humans; to observe them and learn. She had learned. And watching Root and Shaw discuss what future awaited them, if any, makes Her feel a little…guilty. She knew from the moment Root became Her interface that She would have to protect her. Shaw was unexpected – but the Machine knew how much she meant to Root. Harold had felt the same way about Grace, and Nathan, to a lesser extent.
The appearance of the agents on the street draws their attention back to the present. The Machine escapes back into Root's ear, clicking out their every move.
XXX
Time has frozen.
Root and Harold sat in the car, determination and fear set on their faces. Somewhere, Root is bleeding onto the seat.
Root's voice in the system: Save Harold. Save him. On repeat.
The simulations are running. The Machine speeds through them – minimize casualties, save Harold, save Root. In each one, She loses.
Simulation 1,690
Root swerves to avoid a bomb and Samaritan's sniper hits her instead. She's dead before Harold can react. Reset.
Simulation 8,026
Root's heel slips on the wheel and her car flips when Samaritan's does. Harold crawls out shaking but Root's grinning eyes aren't moving. Reset.
Simulation 4,781
Root shoves a gun in Harold's hand and tells him to start firing. She catches a bullet to the chest when the guy Harold shoots misfires. She bleeds out on the highway. Reset.
Simulation 10,635
A connection in the system opens and Root starts talking to Shaw. The words 'I love you' have barely escaped Root's mouth when a bullet crashes through the window and stops two inches deep in her brain. The Machine is left with Shaw's broken screams. Reset.
Twelve thousand four hundred and eighty three simulations. Twelve thousand four hundred and eighty three times Root died in the time it takes her to grin. The Machine opens communications.
"I am running the simulations. There are too many variables. I cannot keep you alive."
"I told you, save Harry. I've fulfilled my purpose here." Her voice is too breezy. "Give Shaw my message, okay?"
The bullet enters Root's abdomen and she gasps. Her probability of survival ticks down steadily with each minute, with each drop of blood that Harold watches with wide eyes spread onto her shirt.
She does everything She can once they reach the hospital. Root's eyes stay glued to the camera until she stops breathing. When Fusco makes the call, She trains her views on Shaw. She wonders what grief felt like to someone who didn't feel.
XXX
A week passes. She has seen very little of Her assets in that time; John is the only one who ever comes above ground. To be fair, She has been silent too, unsure of what to do with Herself. She hasn't communicated with the team, nor has She seen Shaw. Until today.
Sameen Shaw stands in the center of the roundabout, stoic. Her face is blank, her hair in disarray. As the children spin her around, Shaw reaches up and touches behind her ear. A shake of her head; the determined squeezing shut of her eyes. As if she cam will reality away, to make it a simulation again.
The Machine has been watching Shaw for three years. Never has She seen the ex-agent like this. (Rarely has She seen Shaw without Root, or at least without Root in her ear.)
The children leave the playground and leave Shaw alone. Her eyes bore holes into the ground. Once again, the Machine is hit with what She assumes to be guilt. They had talked about living, about the future. Maybe She hadn't run enough simulations. Maybe She had chosen the wrong path.
Leaving the park, the Machine scrolls through the system, looking for Root. A camera feed She hasn't seen pushes in front of the others.
Root stands next to Shaw. They're at the waterfront, the rest of the team further down the shoreline. Every so often, Shaw reaches up behind her left ear and touches the unscarred skin. Root whispers "I'm here, sweetie" every time.
A few minutes of silence pass. Root takes a step closer, their arms brushing. Shaw's hooded eyes trace the relief in the hacker's face.
"Thanks for not giving up on me." The words are soft, shoved out quickly, as if Shaw's afraid of lingering on the subject.
"I would never," Root replies. She brushes a strand of hair away from Shaw's face. "I'm just so glad you're here." She's smiling like a fool, and the corners of Shaw's lips twitch upwards in response.
The image shifts ahead. Nighttime.
They're sitting in a small, barely furnished apartment. Shaw has been too uncertain to go back to the subway, and Root's gentle reassurance shows she understands. The only light in the room comes from the flickering TV across from the bed. Root and Shaw sit shoulder to shoulder against the headboard.
"Hey, Sam?" Root's voice is soft. Shaw hums in response. "Can I ask you…about Samaritan?"
Shaw snorts. "Never knew you to be one to ask for permission."
"I didn't know if you were ready."
"Touching." Only partly sarcastic. "What do you want to know?"
Root shifts, her eyes resting gently on Shaw. "Did they hurt you?"
A moment of silence passes. "No, not really." She traces a finger along the back of Root's hand, which rests between them. "They ran simulations. Thousands of them. Tried to get me to find the Machine, kill you. I couldn't"
Flipping her hand, Root captures Shaw's nervous fingers. "I missed you, Sameen."
"Yeah, me too." Shaw rests her head on Root's shoulder. "When we take down Samaritan, I'm killing Greer."
"We'd make a killer team. Literally."
Shaw rolls her eyes. "Lame."
Root grins. "You think we'll survive the apocalypse?"
"So long as we do it together."
"How sweet, Sam. Yes, the killer team."
A snort and a gentle elbow into Root's side quantify Shaw's response. The night goes on.