A/N: Apologies for the terrible pun title - it happened and I couldn't make it unhappen so I gave up and went with it. I know it's horrible. Apologies, apologies, etc.

Root wasn't used to feeling quite so unstable.

Of course she was well aware that her friends ('friends' being maybe the best word to describe them?) would consider her one of the most unstable members of their group, but she never really felt it. She was always certain, always had a plan, even if that plan just consisted of having 100% faith in The Machine.

But she didn't have that now.

She'd grown so used to following The Machine's messages, pulling out its meaning bit by bit, she'd almost forgotten what life had been like before. And now, here she was, opting to abandon that stability, refusing to listen to its logic because she could not accept the words of her former god.

It was breathtaking and terrifying. She knew on some level that she would probably also find such defiance exhilarating but that was far too positive a sensation to be processed when she was having to fight tooth and claw to hold onto her apparently foolish hope that Shaw was still alive.

She has to be alive. She has to be.

A smile forced its way onto her lips.

It's Sameen; it'll take more than this to bring her down.

Her throat closed and the smile fell as quickly as it had formed, knocked back by the thought of Sameen Shaw being 'brought down'.

Don't think it, don't think it, don't think it-

But it was too late, the memory was already flashing red and white and black in her mind: Sameen pushing her back into the elevator and locking her in, Sameen's gun firing as she hit the red override button, Sameen being knocked back in the sudden red spray as she took the first hit, Sameen falling to the ground, Sameen on the floor as the elevator door shut her from view...

NO! Don't think it!

She tried not to even let herself think of that glorious second that had preceded the horror, the glorious second, the kiss...

Stop it!

It was the level to which her focus was being destroyed as much as anything else that made Root feel unstable. How on earth was she supposed to get anything done, how on earth was she supposed to find Shaw, if her usually well-regulated brain kept flying off the rails like this?

She could barely keep a thought in her head without it being interrupted by one of her many desperate questions: is she alive? Where is she? What did that kiss mean?

Root was by no means a normal girl, but some of her distraction was almost horrifyingly plebeian. There were so much bigger things at stake here, but still she couldn't completely dismiss the infestation of thoughts that wondered whether Shaw had meant that kiss or had just used it as the irrefutable distraction she'd needed to get Root safely back inside the elevator. Root knew that Shaw had known the effect that kissing her would have, she'd have known that a kiss was all she'd need to completely take Root's breath away, to shock her into glorious wonderment that left no space for any other brain function; Root hadn't exactly been subtle about the way she felt, she'd never seen the point.

But that left the question wide open as to what that kiss had meant to Shaw.

Root knew the other woman cared for her at least a bit and that, given Shaw's so-called disorder, that actually meant a lot but...

STOP IT!

She all but slapped herself.

Shaw is alive and she needs me to figure out where she is.

Of course, the implication of Shaw being still alive, having not made contact, was that she'd been captured by Samaritan operatives and was now in their custody. The only reason she could think of for them keeping her alive was to get information from her.

Root told herself she was not worried about this; Sameen was not exactly the person you'd be most afraid for in a little torture situation but still...

There's torture and then there's torture...

She'll be fine.

I just have to find her.

And then she'll be fine.

And then she'll be sorry.

Being angry at Shaw was sometimes the easiest way to regain her focus. Thinking of how best to berate and/or punish the former assassin for putting them through this sometimes helped to squash the fear.

I can just picture her huffy little eye-roll...

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

She had to blink a few times before she realised she was awake.

What's more, she wasn't in the room she'd fallen asleep in.

For the first split second after she realised this, Shaw wondered what new plan Samaritan had for her but then her still-bleary eyes made out the dark shape resting against her bed.

She blinked a few more times until she could properly focus and felt a tiny smile form on her face.

Thank god she wasn't awake to see that.

The thought flashed through Shaw's mind making the smile grow an extra millimetre or two before she reined it back in.

"Root." The word came out even more gruffly than it usually did; Shaw's throat felt dry from sleep and underuse.

The hacker bolted upright in her chair, dark hair tumbling messily over her shoulders and eyes wide with panic and hope and fear and a bit more hope. Pale, long fingered hands clasped at Shaw's on the bed and the injured assassin was aware of a brief split-second war raging in her mind as to whether or not to snatch her hand from Root's grasp.

She didn't.

"You're awake."

"How astute; I thought I was the one with head injuries."

Root smiled wide and free and like she'd just been given the keys to the universe. It was kind of beautiful.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it; let me know either way :)