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Chapter 1

For as long as humans have existed, everyone has had a place that they go to in order to be alone with their thoughts. Philosophers, poets, scientists, and countless other people have relied on these places of solace for centuries. For Archimedes, as well as a lot of modern folk who fancy themselves deep thinkers, it was a bath tub. For Michaelangelo, it was painting.

Sameen Shaw, on the other hand, preferred to dwell on her thoughts with intense physical training.

She was alone at the present moment…pounding away at a defenseless sparring dummy as Bear watched from the comfort of his bed. Each punch was punctuated by a grunt of effort and just a little more sweat was soaked up by her tank top.

It had been three weeks since the fall of Samaritan and in that time, Shaw could often be found brooding in the subway with some targets or a punching bag. That is, when she wasn't fending off the remnants of Samaritan's operatives, working numbers, or spending time with Root.

It was Root's machine God that had her so troubled.

At the time, she had gladly sacrificed herself when the time came in the stock exchange facility; but now, she was a bit irritated about the whole thing.

Sure, she was happy to be alive. There was also the fact that she had always known in some way that she was a puppet of the machine's design, but Shaw had never felt like it. Not until now. And it wasn't even so much the danger she had been put in. In fact, she kind of enjoyed that part. It was that she didn't actually want to die and the machine had apparently taken a gamble with her life for a bigger purpose. A purpose it hadn't seen fit to inform its own creator or interface of.

She continued to reign down furious punches and kicks on the dummy, partially disappointed that it couldn't fight back. She had half a mind to go looking for a stray Samaritan operative to fight. In her mood, she needed to beat the crap out of somebody. Not something.

After another round of assaults, she stopped, walking over to the towel draped over the bench and wiping her face with it before draping it around her neck. Bear got up from his bed and went to her with his tail wagging as he whined softly.

"What's up, buddy?" She reached down to scratch between his ears in that place that always put him on cloud nine. His eyes drooped shut and he was docile for a moment until she spoke to him again. "Does my boy need a work out too?"

At his sudden burst of excited barks, she flashed him the smile that was reserved solely for him and walked off to retrieve one of his toys. Harold and Finch were working a number, and Root was working her cover job. This would have to do until she got her crack at some action.

They played like that for a good half hour until Bear went stock still with his ears perked up; detecting something that Shaw could not. They all knew that posture of alertness well. Though, at this point, he was not showing any overt signs of hostility. As soon as he went stiff, Shaw turned toward the subway entrance and pulled a weapon that she kept taped underneath Harold's desk…much to his chagrin.

Moments later, Reese and Finch emerged into the dim lighting looking a bit rung out. John's usual pristine appearance was marred by the fact that his over coat was frayed and the top few buttons of his white dress shirt were missing. Finch's glasses sat slightly askew on his face and his thin hair was a bit singed at the ends. His slacks had a hole above the right knee.

Shaw raised a concerned eyebrow, "You guys look like shit. What the hell happened?" She lowered her gun and put it back in its place, ignoring Harold's look of disapproval.

"Let's just say it was a blast." John quipped gruffly.

"Second question," Shaw started irritably once she'd ascertained that neither Finch nor Reese was in need of any medical attention, "Why the hell didn't you call me?" Her mild glare was directed at John. "I'm sitting down here, bored, and you're off having all the fun."

"Told you she'd be mad, Finch." Reese stated under his breath, giving a slight smile at Shaw's annoyed expression.

Eager to get down to the business at hand, Finch put an end to the banter. "You wouldn't have made it in time, Ms. Shaw. You're boredom aside, we have a bigger problem. Samaritan's leftovers have devised a new strategy. They seem to be exploiting how the machine thinks."

At the mention of the machine, Shaw remembered why she had been so lately; why she had been only minutes ago and she felt it rise to the surface. None of them thought that the machine would sacrifice one of its own, and Harold had freely admitted after the whole ordeal that he had taught the machine specifically not to assign different values to people…to its assets, but it had.

She scoffed, "Oh please. We don't even know how the machine thinks, Harold."

Finch frowned in response, looking at her with that analyzing gaze of his. Reese stayed in the background as he preferred not to get involved in this particular argument.

"Ms. Shaw, I will admit that there are things about the machine's recent behavior that I also find troubling, but now is not the time."

"She threw me under the bus and lied to you and to Root about Her plans. Think about that Finch. The machine. Lied. When is the time to deal with that elephant in the room, exactly?" Shaw stood firm, arms crossed over her chest and fixing Harold with a hard gaze that conveyed her irritation and dared him to say anything further. In this instance, Finch remained unmoved, though his gaze conveyed his sympathy for Shaw's plight.

"After we deal with the fact that Samaritan's agents are using the machine's system for selecting numbers to set traps for us."

As if to break up the tension in the room, there was a beeping at Harold's computer and they all turned to see a picture of the new number. Shaw gave the profile a quick read before she turned on her heel to address Harold a final time.

"I'm taking this one."

That's it for Chapter 1. Hope you like it so far. Next chapter will be a longer one. Please R&R!