It was an evening like any other except she was no longer hidden from Samaritan. Shaw treaded an uncertain path through the dead zones in the city, drawing from the shadow map ingrained in memory. After a week camped underground with no hope of a new identity, she found herself sneaking out. Shaw could sit still while planning a sting; even trust someone to have her back while she did the shooting, but not this. Sitting at Harold's desk manning the computer while everyone else worked the numbers wasn't right. Couldn't The Machine give her a new identity? It certainly gave them to far less trustworthy people.

Thinking about a specific example made her blood boil. When she next saw the woman, Shaw was going to wring her neck. No one took her out like that. Especially not someone she had trusted with her back.

The former assassin skirted the edge of the sidewalk clad in black hoodie and pants, careful to keep her head down and her eyes peeled. This was a fairly safe neighborhood, and it was quiet. All she wanted was to order her own meal – Harold bringing her food was nice and all, but a girl had to do stuff herself – and then she would go back into hiding. Shaw kept close to the red brick wall on her right, avoiding the glow of streetlamps; she was about to cross the street when she noticed a figure out of the corner of her eye. Probably nothing but she turned away to be safe and was immediately pushed into the shadows by a blur of motion.

Shaw recovered quickly, drawing her gun and pointing it at her attacker. It was the last person she wanted to see: Root.

For one satisfying moment, Shaw kept her gun leveled at the hacker, intent plain in her eyes.

"Go," Root shouted. "You've been spotted." Then she turned and took down two of the approaching agents.

Shaw adamantly refused to do anything Root suggested, so she stayed and took out an operative of her own. Then Root was in front of her, blocking her field of vision completely, simultaneously pushing her down and firing behind her head. Shaw saw Root jerk as she took a bullet, but the hacker continued firing in all directions until their assailants were down.

"Go," Root yelled, louder this time and out of breath. "Car's at the end of the road."

Instead of obeying, Shaw grabbed Root and pulled her around the corner before slamming her against the wall. "What are you doing here?" she snarled.

"I don't know, saving you maybe?" Root gasped, and Shaw could see the hole in her jacket, along with the trail of blood already snaking its way down the fabric. Non-lethal, she noted.

"Did I ask you to?" she demanded, pressing Root harder against the wall, not even stopping when she hissed in pain.

"Do this later, Sameen." Root gritted her teeth, the words clearly an effort. "We need to move."

Shaw reluctantly released Root and dragged her to the car before shoving her roughly against the passenger door. "I'm driving."

"Be my guest." Root caught herself awkwardly and opened the door with a grimace. "I'm down to one hand anyway."

"Follow the shadow map. Head in the general direction of the subway. I'll tell you if there are Samaritan operatives to avoid."

Shaw didn't say anything as she put the car into gear and sped off. Root was silent too as she began applying pressure to the wound on her shoulder.

After a few minutes she directed Shaw to turn left and then right at an intersection. Despite herself, Shaw stole a glance over at Root: the hacker was breathing heavily and Shaw didn't like the pallor of her skin. "You okay?" she asked gruffly. "Seem to be losing a lot of blood."

Root gazed at her for a long moment before responding, and Shaw found she couldn't quite decipher the expression on her face. "One of the bullets nicked an artery," she finally said.

"One of the—" Shaw started. "She told you that?"

When Root didn't say anything, Shaw took one hand off the wheel and yanked her injured arm forward until she could see the back of Root's jacket. Another hole.

"Dammit Root, you knew you'd been hit twice and you let me handle you like that?" Shaw cursed under her breath.

"You needed to," Root said tiredly. "Better to get it out of your system."

Shaw gritted her teeth. "Soon as we get back, I'm taking a look."

"No," Root said adamantly, gesturing to a dark alley up ahead. "Drop me off there."

"Not happening." Shaw looked at Root incredulously. "You think I'm letting you bleed out in some back alley?"

"Didn't think you cared, Shaw." Root closed her eyes for a moment.

"I don't." Shaw shook her head, deliberately driving past the point Root had asked to be dropped off at. "But if I say I'll end you, I'll do it myself."

"Someone has to ditch the car," Root said stubbornly. "And you can't have a trail of blood leading back to the subway."

Shaw responded by locking the doors and speeding up. "I don't care if you have an identity change in that alley who's a patient in a hospital. I'm taking care of it."

Root opened her mouth to protest, but short of tasing Shaw while she was driving, there didn't seem to be another option. "Park two blocks down by the house with the weird plant," she said instead. "Car thieves are in the area."

Shaw allowed a small grin to cross her face. "Criminals. Gotta love 'em."

"Mmhmm." Shaw could see beads of sweat beginning to form on Root's brow. So when she finished parking the car in the designated location, she took a moment to study the hacker. "Do you need help?"

Root nodded, in the midst of tying a piece of fabric around her wounds. "Help would be nice." Shaw nodded curtly, killed the ignition and got out of the car. But by the time she reached the other side, Root had shifted herself over to the driver's seat and was starting the engine.

"What are you—?"

Comprehension dawned on Shaw's face, and she moved to stand in front of the car. "You're not going to run me over," she said, certainty etched in her features. "Cut it out, Root."

"Move," Root commanded, with one hand on the wheel, her face pale but determined. "I have to do this." In response, Shaw drew her knife and slashed one of the tires; and as Root stared in shock, the other woman picked the lock to the driver's seat and cocked her fist. "Sweet dreams," she whispered and Root knew no more.