Hello, and thank you guys for reading! I know I said this would be a two-parter, but it might even be three. Anyway, enjoy the read and please review! I own nothing.
Part II-
The first thing I feel when I come to is the annoying sting of the bright lights above me burning at my eyes. For a hot second I wonder if I'm dead and this is "the light" at the end of the tunnel, but then my vision clears. The searing pain in my torso that registers soon after is another reminder that, yep, I'm alive.
But how?
My memories are hazy right now. That kiss, the button, Root's screams; I remember those things.
I remember Martine.
Martine…that bitch. I swear I'll get her once I heal. Then it hits me. Someone already did.
I take in my surroundings for the first time since waking up. The room appears to be some sort of empty storage closet no bigger than it is. I sit up, wincing slightly against the pain when the memory of those three people comes to me. If they are a threat, I need to get out of here.
Where the hell is "here", anyway? Hopefully not anywhere near Decima's warehouse.
I'm already fully clothed, so the next order of business would be to find my weapons…or a weapon. With a grunt, I move to stand and almost collapse back onto the bed after a strong wave of dizziness hits. This is just great. There's nothing in this room but the bed! I bet if I tried I could work with that.
It's then, as I struggle to remain standing with my breath coming out in short bursts that the door opens and a man walks in. I think for a second and realize he's the same man from earlier—well-built, at least 6'5", brown hair. I get into as passable a combat stance as my wounded by will allow and stare him down.
"Woah!" He puts his hands up defensively, and I realize that his posture has no threat in it. "No need to get rough. You'll pop a stitch." He smirks with a smile that looks so utterly cocky it makes me want to knock it off his face with a fiber rod. It looks a lot like the look Reese gets when he's winning an argument with me.
"I'll pop more than that if you don't can it." I grumble out, sitting back on the bed once I've decided that the man means no harm.
"So, obviously, you and your accomplices brought me here. Where are we?"
"It's an abandoned tenement on Staten Island." He does not speak with a New York accent, I note, so probably not from around here. I nod, accepting that answer before moving on to the next question.
"And, who are you?"
"I'm irrelevant." He smirks knowingly at me and I feel a glare cover my face at his reference to The Machine's terms. "I'm an agent, same as you are. But you can call me Grimes." He says, leaning against the door frame with casually folded arms.
My glare hardens. It doesn't add up. How could there be other agents all this time that none of us knew about? This can't be good. Clearly he's not Samaritan, but there are countless other factions that would love to take a crack at our team.
"Okay." I nod, leaning a little further towards him from my spot on the bed. "Just one more question."
"Shoot."
"Why…should I…trust…you?" I growl out.
For a moment, he seems taken aback by my hostility, but he's quick to regain his composure. I'll give the man this much: he's smooth.
"Shaw," My eyes narrow at his use of my name, "Samaritan wanted you dead. Hell, you were as good as dead when we found ya. If you couldn't trust us, you would be dead already."
I think it over for a moment. The man has a point. I was outgunned against Martine and the other agents. I was already bleeding out before she was killed. If not for that unexpected bit of good fortune, he's right; I'd certainly be a dead woman. Still, the matter of the Machine in all of this doesn't add up, but that can wait for later now that I know I can trust these people.
I'm hungry.
"Fair point." I say as my stomach growls quietly. "Now, where do you keep the food?"
With a final irritating smirk in my direction, he acknowledges my request and leaves me to my own devices. Left alone, my thoughts wander to the team and I wonder if they made it out. They all looked like shit, John wouldn't have been much help in his shape, and Root…
Root.
Again, Root's screams echo in my head. I hated having to do that to her, but it was the only way for the team to get out alive; for her to get out alive. I think about how worried I was all those times that Root was almost killed. I used to just chalk it up to being protective, but I realized when I kissed her in that elevator that I couldn't deny it anymore. I do have feelings; some of them are for Root.
Then I put myself in her shoes and think about what I would've done if she had actually been killed, and then if it turned out she wasn't dead after I watched her be killed.
Oh shit.
"Root's gonna be pissed."
"Dammit!" Root cursed, resisting the temptation to grab her implant and yank it out.
It had been days since the Machine had revealed to them that Sameen wasn't dead and since then She had gone back to her regularly scheduled radio silence despite Root's attempts to find out Shaw's location.
This time when she'd asked, The Machine had responded, but had simply told her "Not yet."
Why the hell not? If Shaw was out there wounded, alone, and with Samaritan still gunning for them, then she needed to be found. The Machine had forsaken Shaw once. Wasn't that enough?
Footsteps in the subway told Root that she was no longer alone with her thoughts. There was a time when she was never alone, but now it seemed like loneliness was all there was between Shaw missing and the Machine's silence.
She looked up as John hobbled towards her, movement still hindered by the healing bullet hole in his back. He took in her frustrated appearance and fixed her with a sympathetic gaze. Bear, who had been lying at Root's feet, perked up and went to meet John.
"Still no word, I take it?"
He came to sit next to her on the bench and Root scowled, reminding John of a petulant child.
"Oh, there's word. She said 'not yet.'"
Reese considered that for a moment as Root went on. "I don't get it. I've listened to her for two years and suddenly she stops talking. When she does speak, it's never as clear anymore."
Of course, John was aware that this had been the case, but he'd never asked about a timeframe. He had a theory about it. "And, when did this start? Her not speaking?"
Root looked thoughtful for a moment, pondering the question while fiddling with Bear's ears. "About the time Samaritan came online."
"I think she's hiding; just like the rest of us."
Root nodded but still had an argument on her lips, "I know. Still, we should be out finding Sameen. She shouldn't be alone in her state."
"You're not thinking with your head, Root." John spoke in his low gravelly voice, attempting to sooth her as much as possible. "It wouldn't be practical to go looking for Shaw right now. I'm not in fighting shape, you're not in your right mind, and Samaritan is still on a man hunt. Also, what makes you think Shaw is alone?"
At the question, Root's gaze snapped up to meet his. "We all watched her get shot. She's a survivor, but even she couldn't take the slugs she took and escape from Samaritan without a little help."
Before she could answer, the implant buzzed back to life in Root's ear with another static garbled message from The Machine.
"Asset is correct."
John watched as Root's face lit up in a way that only happened when she received messages from Her. Then her face shifted into a puzzled expression.
"How?"
"Soon."
Root's first reaction was more frustration, but then she took John's words into account. Shaw couldn't have survived without help. The machine even calculated that there was no chance of rescue, but then…
Root smiled for the first time in days, suddenly looking past her emotions and understanding The Machine again.
"I think She's planning something.
Well, that's it for part 2. I lied! I know I said there would be a Shoot reunion in this chapter, but I promise it will be in the next one. Please R & R!
