Hello there! First story for Person of Interest despite it being my favorite TV show ever. I guess I feel intimidated.

This would take place after the end of the last episode, so spoilers for 3x11 "Lethe" if you haven't seen it.

Please let me know what you think after reading!

Hersh keeps referring to her as "Ma'am". Shaw doesn't know the woman at all; to her it's always been an entire organization, Control. So for now, she thinks she'll stick to calling her Diane.

Diane has her three guards escorting Shaw outside while she remains inside with Finch, Arthur and Hersh. Shaw doesn't like this. She hates feeling helpless but right now, that's exactly how she feels. There is nothing she can do because the men are holding her at gunpoint but are not close enough for her to grab one of them without getting shot in the process. She keeps looking at them alternatively, searching for a flaw in their posture, anything that could offer an advantage, an exit. But they are trained agents, they know what to do and what to avoid. Hersh probably briefed them on her. Surely they know who she is. The agent turned rogue. Control probably omitted to mention that they tried to have her killed.

Shaw goes very still suddenly. There is no escape. She needs to focus on something else. Harold is in there, she thinks. If anything, she has to get him out alive, even if she doesn't make it herself. Harold has to. The Machine needs him. John needs him. So she focuses her attention on the door behind the man blocking her way and she listens. Her body is trembling imperceptibly with tension. She can barely make out a few words.

Samaritan. No idea. Does not exist. Better tell me.

Hersh apparently doesn't say a word. Shaw doesn't hear his voice. But he was never much of a talker anyway.

"You were a good operative. Sorry Shaw."

She remembers his words. That's the last time she felt helpless. She owes Finch and Reese her life. She knows that.

Suddenly, the door opens and Hersh appears. His eyes pierce through her and for a fleeting moment, she thinks she can read something on his usually expressionless face. But she blinks, and it's gone. Arthur follows, his head hanging low. Behind him, Finch. Their eyes meet, and he's strangely calm and collected. But then again, Shaw has rarely seen him lose his façade. Diane is the last to exit the room, her gun still in her hand, pointing at Harold's back. Shaw grits her teeth. She knows it's the end for her. There will not be enough space in the car for all of them. She is not getting out of the motel.

"Get inside. Move," one of the men says to her.

She glances one last time at the retreating group, but Finch doesn't even look back. She knows that he knows she's as good as dead. She knows how he feels. Guilty.

It's alright Harold, she thinks. That's how it was supposed to be. Some things you can't change.

At least now that he's gone, she's free to try something without fearing that Diane shoots him. The third man closes the door behind them but doesn't lock it. Her instincts of survival kick in and she starts talking:

"Three men in a hotel room, just for me. Can't remember the last time that happened."

"Shut up."

"Oh come on, I'm about to die, the least you could do is offer some comfort or conversation."

Shaw wonders why she is not even panicking and then remembers that she is a trained killer. She can get out of this. She can find a way. She just needs time to figure out a plan. One of the men—the one who was restraining her earlier—holsters his gun and exits the room for a minute. Shaw remains silent. The other two guards don't even blink. Where has he gone?

Her silent question is answered rather quickly as the man comes back holding something. A canvas sheet, she realizes. They're going to kill her, wrap her body in this and probably throw her in the ocean or something. Maybe burn her body or dissolve it into hydrofluoric acid. Shaw shakes her head slightly as she remembers that they are on the tenth floor, which means that she can't even throw herself out of the window and take her chances. The man has spread the canvas sheet on the floor and he motions for her to step on it.

"Oh I'm probably not going to make this easy for you boys. You want me standing there? Make me," she says with a smirk.

If one gets close enough, then maybe…

But then, before she can even understand what is happening, the three men drop on the ground, one by one, dead. Shaw barely registers the blood that has splattered on her face and clothes. Her reaction is immediate. She drops to the ground and rolls toward the nearest man and grabs his gun. No need to check his pulse; the bullet has gone straight through his skull, just like the two others.

There are three bullet holes in the door and suddenly, the door breaks down, revealing the person standing behind it. The person who just saved her life.

Root. Root with a 9mm silencer in her hand and that half-smile that Shaw hates plastered on her face. The woman steps inside the room and inspects her work briefly before turning to Shaw, who is still staring at her incredulously.

"A life for a life. We're even now. Please don't punch me this time."

OTH-FOQ