Since I got back, I've been working on taking control of my body again. I still have problems distinguishing reality from simulation, my limbs reacting instinctively to almost everything. Even to Root's fingers tracing a soft line on my arm. She understands. But I can see her eyes full of worry and anger. The same anger I feel when I grab my gun the second I see Reese with his hand in his pocket. The same anger I feel when I stare at Finch for hours because I still don't trust him. Anger towards Samaritan. Because they destroyed my family, my home. My safe place. I work out, I have a run every early morning through the streets of New York, I do push ups, I stretch. It's not enough. Even after two months, I still hear Samaritan's voice in my mind. But there're some things that shut that voice. Or at least, they lower it. Like, right now, just hearing Root snoring lightly next to me makes me feel calm. Her face, buried in the pillow, makes me wonder what she is dreaming about. If it's a happy dream. If I'm in it.
She insisted on move in together. She bought us a fucking penthouse. She set up a room with several gym stuff for me. She bought us the biggest bed I've ever seen because I refused to sleep with her in my queen-sized bed, where we used to sleep together, occasionally, before Samaritan took me. In this bed, I can't hurt her if I wake up after a nightmare, because I can't reach her from my side. I would never say out loud that this makes me mad because I know she loves to cuddle - she is a sappy woman, who would love to be married in the future. But for now, just being in the same bed, seems to be enough for her.
"Nice views, huh?" I hear her humming. Her eyes are still closed, but I can see a smile plastered on her face.
"Shut up." She chuckles and opens an eye. Then, she extends an arm and, cautiously, tries to reach me. I scoot closer quietly, so her fingers would brush over my shoulder. She hums content and takes her hand back. I stare at her until she falls asleep again. The few times we'd gone further it was because I initiated it. Since I'm back she won't touch me without getting my approval, making me to miss how our "encounters" used to be. All rough, hard, wild. Now she has to be careful around me. She ignores her own needs on my behalf. She understands. But I know Root deserves better than this. Better than what I can give her. She deserves someone who knows what love is, how it feels. Hell, she deserves someone who actually can say out loud how they feel. I clench my jaw and close my eyes, trying to focus on her breathing, but my mind is still running. Looks like another night without sleeping more than 2 hours.
I get up at 5.30 am and I dress up for my morning run. I look one last time at her, making sure that she's asleep, and I leave, but when I get back home, she's gone, probably to some mission the machine gave her. All by herself, with just two guns. I sigh annoyed - she's going to get herself killed.
My phone buzzes and I sigh again when I see the caller ID. "What do you need, Finch?"
"Good morning to you too, Miss Shaw." He greets. "I was wondering if you could help Mr. Reese with a number." I wait for him to keep going. "Tim Jessop, 41, accountant in a big multinational company. We don't know if he is a victim or perpetrator."
I take a minute to think about it, not sure if it is a good idea going on a mission without controlling my body 100%. "Send me John's location." But my mouth seems to have its own brain. I guess, deep in my mind, I want to prove myself, see if I can be on the field without freaking out constantly, without watching my back and keeping an eye on John. So I go and meet with him, we chase the number until we realize that he is not a victim, but a perpetrator. We try to stop him to kidnap his own daughter, but when we have him cornered in an alley, he pulls out a gun and points at us. And before I'm aware of it, I've shot him and he's lying on the ground. John's looking at me, horrified and prepared for what may come, slowly grabbing his gun. I'm shaking, my breathing is getting heavier and I can hear my heart beating noisily in my chest.
"It's okay, sweetie." I feel the familiar touch of Root's hands on both of my arms. She is standing behind me, her lips close to my right ear and I feel how my body starts to relax. "You're okay. Everything is fine." She keeps whispering as she grabs my left hand and makes me turn and face her. Her right hand is placed on my gun and her left hand is on the base of my neck. I let her grab my gun and throw it to the ground. I don't deserve to have a gun now. I don't want to have it. I'm dangerous. I'm still dangerous.
When we get home, I go to the bathroom, without saying a word, but as soon as I get in the shower, I feel Root's presence, her eyes running through my naked back. Out of the corner of my eyes, I glance at her. "Feel free to join me." I turn on the shower, getting under it, hearing how she struggles with her skinny jeans. The warm water massages my tensed muscles and it takes me a few seconds to notice that Root is already naked and behind me, leaving a cautious amount of space between us. She always understands and I'm getting sick of it. So I face her and I get impossibly closer to her, every part of my body touching her soft skin. I circle her with my arms and I hug her tightly, burying my face on her clavicle. And she lets out a shaky breath before hugging me back.
I won't say out loud that Root is my home, my family, the one I'll give my life for. The only person I need to keep breathing, her voice the only thing I could hear 24/7. I won't say out loud that I need Root, her red apples, her laptops and wires scattered all over the place. I won't say it out loud and maybe I can't say out loud what I feel for her because I actually don't understand what I feel for her. But I can let her know all these things with just a touch, a hug, a kiss, with a simple action as being loyal to her and stopping having flings. Root's all I have.
A/N: I hope I can update soon enough, I have so much planned for these two... I love them.