No Copyright Infringement Intended

Fanfic Type: AU

Pairing: Root/Shaw

Rating: T

It was simply impossible for Samantha to believe her eyes. The colorful stamp of the Federal Bureau of Investigation was staring back at her from the manilla envelope, real, there. Her eyes widened even further at seeing where exactly it came from.

FBI College Office of Admissions

After looking around her for a minute, as if searching for the person who could have left this on her porch, she pushed her glasses further up her nose, and, eyebrows raised, took one last look before going back into the house.

"Mom?" She called out in a confused and hesitant voice as she walked into the living room. The sounds and smells of sizzling eggs came from the kitchen. A young blonde woman stuck her head out and looked at her daughter with a bright smile.

"Yes, sweetie?" She asked, pan in her hand. A little oil fell on to the floor and the woman put the pan back on the stove with a small exclamation that sounded something like oh, dear! Cleaning it up as best as she could without messing up her pretty yellow summer dress and white sandals she looked up at her daughter nervously, as if expecting her reproach for her occasional clumsiness, and inquired, "What is it?"

"I just received this in the mail." Root said slowly, waiting for her mother to walk over to her and take the envelope from her hand. Immediately after seeing the stamp, her mother's eyes widened, and she went into a rant.

"See!" She said in a nagging tone, turning back to the kitchen and waving the envelope in the air, "I always knew spending so much time on the computer would lead to this! What trouble have you got into now? Hacking into the government isn't the best hobby for a girl your age, you know?" She stuck her little head out the door into the living room once again to take a good look at her daughter, "Why couldn't you do something more normal?" She asked, barely hiding a hint of remorse, "I don't know, like, cheerleading, ballet?" Turning back to the now badly burnt eggs, she added in a small voice, "I was a great, very popular dancer at your age."

Samantha was used to this kind of talk from her mother, so she merely let out a small sigh and made a motion with her hand, "Just read what it says, Mom."

Her mother finally looked over at the address on the envelope, rolled her eyes, and taking one last look at her daughter, handed it back to her, and the message was clear.

Don't even think this changes anything. You are going to Harvard, young lady, whether you like it or not.

What she did say was, without turning her head, "You must change your outfit immediately, we are going to be late for church."

Samantha looked at the wall clock above an armchair in the Victorian-style living room. "It's seven-thirty, Mom." She said with a confused frown, "Church doesn't start till nine." Then, looking down at her clothes, a blue turtleneck and some jeans, she asked, "And what's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

Ignoring her remark about the time, her mother raised her eyebrows as if the answer was obvious and replied, "Well, it wouldn't kill you to wear a dress every once in a while, darlin'."

Heaving another sigh, Samantha climbed the stairs at the end of the hallway and went up to her room, the familiar frustration she always felt in that house a little bit more oppressive than usual. She sat on her bed absentmindedly and, letting the envelope fall at her side, ran both hands through her hair and tried to massage her temples a bit, a small sound of exasperation coming from her pink lips. Before getting up to look for another outfit that would please her mother, she took another hard look at the envelope, picking it up in her hands, as if checking again to see if it was real.

She had never really considered a career as a cop, a detective, or a spy, unlike a lot of people in her generation. It had simply never crossed her mind. Sure, her hacking skills were quite impressive, if she did say so herself, and she did, as always, with a confident smirk, to reassure herself that there was a reason why this piece of paper had landed in her hands.

As she started to open it absentmindedly, there was the sound of a crash outside. Her mother's voice rang out from downstairs.

"Samantha Groves!"

A/N: Remember, a review a day keeps the writer's block away! Tell me if you want me to continue.