Post ep for 4x11. What if the Machine had another contingent of agents kept secret even from Harold and Root? Shameless denial fanfiction! Please R & R!

It's funny.

I don't remember the last time that time stood still for me when I faced death; I've laughed at death so often, I guess I've forgotten. It happened, though. It happened the second I shut that elevator.

My eyes are fixed on that cursed red button, and I can vaguely make out Root's frantic screams through the overwhelming stillness around me. I glimpse the first of Samaritan's agents coming from the hall and I know this is the end. I don't like it, but I am going to die. My hand slams on the button with that thought and my right finger feels itchy on the trigger. Wait for it…

I don't remember ever thinking I was going to die, either. Any time I fought, I fought to win. I never took any other outcome into account. My finger squeezes the trigger as the Samaritan agents near.

Fire one!

One down. Wound to the shoulder. Lethal.

Ironically, the thought occurs to me now that maybe I've lived so long because I never cared if I died. Because I never had anyone to sacrifice myself for…

Fire two.

I glimpse Martine coming around the corner; Samaritan's own harbinger of death. It doesn't take long for the first bullet to rip through me, but I feel nothing in this fog of stillness. The impact jerks me so that I face the elevator and , briefly, I look at my team…at her as I try to tag my counterpart.

Root's screams are louder now and it makes what I can feel of my heart, the part I never would admit belongs to her, ache that it had to be this way.

As the elevator descends, I continue to fight with Martine until her third hit brings me to my knees. It is then that something happens.

The world speeds up again.

Martine and several other agents are left dead in front of me, and I am alive. I am alive, wounded, and confused. Samaritan's agents didn't bite my bullets.

It's pretty useless at this point, but I stay on my knees ready to attack the people responsible for this when I hear footsteps approaching. In a moment, I can make out three figures through the gunpowder. Two women; one man. They all appear well muscled, likely from combat training, and all carry .45 caliber handguns. That's all I can make out clearly as the edges of my vision begin to blur. The last thing I see is the three of them hurrying toward me with their guns down.

The ride down to the basement had been silent, and the air even thicker with the grief of each team member. Root had struggled to keep the mission in mind, but in the end, she was reduced to a sobbing ball in the corner of the elevator as her last moments with Shaw played on repeat in her mind. It was only when the elevator came to a stop and more Samaritan agents greeted them that she came roaring to life again with a brand of fury not seen in her from any one in present company.

Root plowed through the agents swiftly, having to be reminded several times by Finch not to go more quickly than John's injuries could allow.

She was a force unleashed and nothing seemed to be able to stop her. She was blind in her rage and Grief.

Harold briefly considered the possibility of going back upstairs and unleashing her on the remaining Samaritan agents; maybe even retrieving Ms. Shaw's body. Little did he know…

Root fired another full clip into the last room full of operatives before they reached their exit.

"Well, I guess that's it." John joked of Root's shooting spree and the whole ordeal as he reached for the door handle, but the humor never made it to his voice. They had won the day, but at a cost.

It would be hours later back at the subway before Root would emerge again from her state of silent mourning.

Finch sat quietly at his computer. He'd long since given up trying to get any real work done and now he sat staring at the monitor and mulling over his Machine's decision. Was there really no outcome where they all survived? Did she mean to sacrifice Miss Shaw? Did she even know Miss Shaw would take that course of action? That thought was discarded as soon as it had entered his mind. Of course she did. The Machine knew each of them intimately. He had designed a machine to predict crime before it happened. Of course she knew Miss Shaw would sacrifice herself before it happened. That left the burning question in his mind: Did his machine intentionally send one of Her assets to death?

"You're hovering, Ms. Groves." Harold spoke gently, the ghost of a sad smile on his lips.

At being addressed, Root moved from her spot and came to stand next to Harold. In the dim lighting he could still see that she looked terrible. Her eyes were red and puffy, her hair was a mess, and fresh blood on her knuckles indicated that she had been taking her anger out on a wall. Finch could only imagine the thoughts and feelings warring inside the hacker. For the longest time, he had watched her blind devotion to his AI with intrigue, baffled that anyone could think of an Artificial Intelligence the way that she did. Shaw seemed to be the only person or thing that could match her devotion to The Machine. Again, considering the implications made Harold uneasy, so he dared not to tread down that path any further for the moment.

"Harold." Root met his gaze with a watery, baleful, almost childlike gaze. "Do you think that She planned that?" The question was not unexpected, still the sound of the broken voice that was so unlike the usual Samantha Groves took him aback. He pitied how lost she looked. Putting her trust in an AI computer God only to have it apparently sacrifice a person she loves. He wished he knew the answer.

"I honestly don't know, Ms. Groves. The Machine accounts for an infinite number of possibilities and chooses the best possible outcome. If Ms. Shaw hadn't shown up, none of us would've made it out alive. Had she survived, we all could've died," Harold paused, letting his words sink in. Of course she already knew all of this, but just maybe it helped to be reminded in some way. "But, I truly can't say whether or not the Machine intended to sacrifice her. I wish I knew."

Root fixed Finch with a mournful expression and they fell into a morose, yet comfortable silence as silent tears streaked down the hackers face.

"For what it's worth," Harold spoke after several minutes, "she loved you. She wouldn't have called it that, but there it is."

"I know." Root half sobbed-half chuckled in response, smiling at archive video footage of Shaw that had made its way onto Harold's computer. Apparently, the Machine was mourning too. Or so they thought. It was a lot like those chains of internet pop-ups. It started with one video in the corner of Harold's screen, then another, and then several more until the screen was filled with old videos of Shaw from different parts of the city, different missions, different times, etc.

"What the…?" Harold stood, brow arched at his monitor as a text window popped up and Root stood with a hand over her mouth beside him.

They watched as the Machine typed three words into the window:

SHAW IS ALIVE.

Thanks for reading! I bet y'all needed this after last night's episode. I know I did! This will be a two-parter so look forward to a Shoot reunion!