Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest.

Author's Notes: Summary quote from Joseph M. Marshall "The Lakota Way". Based between 3x06 Mors Praematura and probably 3x08 Endgame since it rolls right into The Crossing. Birthday gift for Lola

The Unexpected Ally

Barely a sound, a darkened shadow, but Root's eyes light up all the same. She knows someone's there, watching her, calculating the risk. She turns her gaze toward the door, squinting to try and catch some feature not hidden so perfectly. The longer she looks, the more doubt creeps into her being as though she imagined the feeling altogether and truly there was no on there. All she sees is a flash of movement and the shadow lightens in density once more. Smirking, she returns to her idle reading, hoping Harold would see fit to find her new books.

It happened again several days later, only this time, Root was sitting against the bookshelf closest to the door and heard the muffled footsteps as they crept into the a different shadow. She refused to glance around the corner and ruin the moment though she felt the tension building in the air. Perhaps she couldn't see her semi-hidden spot? The air shifted and Root felt eyes on her finally. Bowing her head under the pretense of studying the book propped against her bent legs, she let her hair fall over her shoulder and she glanced through the curtain to see the shine of someone's eyes. Root took a breath of air and stretched her arms above her head, turning her head to gaze out the gate. Nothing. They were gone. "Cute," she commented to no one in particular.

A full week passed before she saw her silent observer again, perhaps it had been a busy time for the irrelevants. Root was studying her nails over the top of a large encyclopedia book. When she lifted her head, she spotted them. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were stalking me. Got a crush?" she leered with a wink.

"Re-conning," was the response.

Root hummed, tilting her head to the side as she observed what she could of her guest. She was well hidden but more obvious than her previous visits, a fact Root appreciated more than she knew she could admit aloud. "Any chance you could-" Root trailed off as the woman vanished. Sighing she decided if this was how it was going to be with her she would play along. Any companionship was better than none. And certainly better than the glares and mistrust and careful dancing around eggshells she received from Harold and the big lug.

The next morning when she awoke from her comfy but too short for her long body bench, Root noticed that breakfast had already been brought to her room. Harold and the big lug must have both gone out too early. Reaching the table as she stretched her limbs, a smile grew on her face. "Well what is this..." she murmured, picking up the small bottle of nail polish. Glancing at the meal, Root realized it wasn't anything like Harold usually brought her. A Spanish omelette with wheat toast and ham, something she noted was beyond Harold's thus far revealed talents in cuisine. She dared to even think it was someone with a keen eye for food who made her breakfast...

"Thank you for the polish," Root said the next time she sensed her visitor, wiggling her now painted fingernails in that direction as she remained facing the table and her book.

"I know I'd go stark crazy in there."

"Getting there," she agreed.

"I don't..."

Root turned slowly to face her.

"I don't know how else to help with the boredom," she admitted softly, but the glare she directed at the ground had heat to rival Hades.

"It's alright, Shaw."

"No, it's not!" she turned her glare toward Root who surprisingly didn't flinch.

"If this is what Harry wants, then who am I to argue?"

"It's kidnapping."

Root paused, thinking over her words. "True, but I could just have easily ended up in jail by their standards had anything that happened between us all been technically legal," she explained.

"It's not right."

"I wasn't lying when I said I was a fan after reading your file. It must be interesting dealing in these grey areas where a moral compass can be compromised. You're so straight forward and stolid yet you oppose their decision..." Root trailed off, uncaring if she was obvious in fishing for information.

"My work in the ISA taught me a valuable lesson, one that circles back to my-" Shaw's eyes narrowed as she made the split second decision to not reveal that personal information. "What you do, matters as much as how you do."

"And how do you do?" Root asked with a grin, trying to turn the phrase into a flirtatious remark somehow. Shaw rolled her eyes in response before her head turned to the right, focus returning to her features.

"Gotta go."

"Seeya, sweetie."

"While you were gone, I had an idea about your concern with my boredom levels."

"I don't do concern, Root," Shaw was leaning against the cage door, peering at Root sideways.

"Consternation, then," she conceded. She knew the truth though.

"What?"

Root smirked, pleased she caught her interest. Rising from her chair delicately, she sauntered over toward the door, swaying her hips more than necessary. Shaw straightened, arms dropping to her sides. "Got a hood and zip ties?" she whispered as close as she could get to the other woman.

"Not happening."

"Why not? We were so good together at the CIA safe house," Root said, voice dripping with untold promises of the most dirty kind.

Shaw's eyes drifted to the camera facing the cage for a second before snapping back toward Root. "Not happening," she repeated sterner then turned to leave.

"Sam, wait!" Root managed to snag a piece of Shaw's loose long sleeve and she tugged. Shaw paused with a sigh and glanced over her shoulder, quirking a brow. "She was preparing me for something. Something big and it's coming fast. I need you to impart that to Harold, so that when the time is right, he accepts my help. Untold travesties could occur. You seem to be the only one in my corner," she explained, eyes pleading though her voice was steady and sure.

"I'm not in your corner, Root," Shaw scoffed.

"You keep saying all these things you're not. What are you, Shaw?" Root asked, unable to help the ire creeping into her voice.

Shaw was quiet for a few moments. "I distrust you," Root's face fell. "But I also know you're the only one in contact with The Machine. You can be useful. I doubt Reese and Finch believe that yet...but I do," she said. Shrugging Root's fingers loose she headed down the hall to continue her day.

"Thank you, Shaw," Root said barely above a whisper.