Root stopped at the subway station two days later. It wasn't really necessary that she meet Harold there to give him the newest information from Her, but she was glad for the opportunity to check on Shaw.

When Root walked in, Shaw was standing at one end of the platform facing away, sending Bear after a rat. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips and her hair was in the usual low pony tail. Her snug shirt and running shorts caught Root's appreciative eye.

"It's a little hard to work with all the noise, Miss Shaw," Harold scolded as Root entered their hideout.

"Well it's a little hard to live down here with rats running around. Let us have some fun," Shaw replied loudly, not looking in Finch's direction at all. Before he could say anything to reveal Root's presence, Root spoke down the platform.

"Is that the only fun you can find?" Root teased. Shaw looked up and whistled at Bear to come, walking down the platform towards Root.

"With Finch as my company, working on things he won't let me in on? Yeah," Shaw said, antsy and annoyed. Root gave her a sympathetic look, and handed Finch a closed manila envelope.

"Unfortunately, I've got to add to the secrets," Root said. Shaw shook her head, angrily stalking past with Bear.

"I don't know which one of them is more bothersome," Finch said quietly to Root as Shaw picked up a piece of PVC pipe and threw it, hard, spinning end over end as Bear chased after it, growling excitedly. It clattered on the floor when Bear caught it and dropped it to get a better grip with his teeth. "I brought her some books and a deck of cards, but clearly that's not enough."

"Look that over, I'll keep her distracted for a bit," Root replied in a casually-amused tone. Harold opened the envelope at his desk and Root left the door of the subway car to head towards Shaw.

"What's your latest identity?" Shaw asked, throwing the pipe again after giving Root's bright lipstick and oversized black leather purse a long look.

"Katya Romanov, a Russian immigrant with expensive taste," Root said with a smile, putting the black bag she was carrying onto Shaw's cot. She turned back towards Shaw and noticed that on the floor there were tidy stacks of clothing that Root had brought on her last visit. Root smiled at the thought of Shaw creating order. Shaw looked questioningly at the bag, and Root gestured for her to open it.

When Shaw came to her side, curious, Root stood half-behind her, her chest brushing Shaw's shoulder. Shaw gave her an irritated sidelong look and then craned to see if Finch was paying any attention. Root smirked and stepped back, giving Shaw space to open the bag.

First Shaw pulled out a laptop, a charger, and extension cords.

"I think Finch has the whole computer thing covered," Shaw said. Root tilted her head playfully.

"This is to keep yourself busy. You can read anything, watch anything, but you can't purchase anything. And I've got some accounts for you to use for streaming television or movies, that sort of thing," Root explained, and Shaw didn't even try to look excited. "There are even some live sports streaming channels you have access to. I thought that might be up your alley."

Shaw nodded, but Root still saw through the attempt to show appreciation for the gift.

"There's more in there," Root said. Truth be told, she'd known that the laptop might not be a hit with Shaw. Under the laptop were the things she thought Shaw would appreciate a little more.

Shaw pulled the bag open wider and pulled out a large, soft, grey towel, folded up. She looked over at Root with thinly suppressed glee.

"Thought you might like that. Be careful when you unfold it," Root instructed. Shaw followed Root's orders and actually grinned as she removed it's contents. A bar of soap still wrapped in cadet blue paper, tied with twine in a cutesy but masculine way, two matching bottles of shampoo and conditioner, deodorant, lotion, and last but not least, a razor. She lifted the soap to her nose.

"This smells like my favorite soap," Shaw said, suspicious when the taller woman smiled. "Did She tell you to bring me this stuff?"

"No," Root said simply. It was the truth. She hoped Shaw knew that.

"You're a woman after my own heart," Shaw said, sarcastic. Root continued to smile at Shaw until Bear came to Shaw's side, curiously sniffing at the bag.

Shaw sent him away, and he went running off down the platform to where the PVC pipe had been left before.

"Miss Groves?" Harold called from the subway car, looking at Bear with frustration clear on his face. Root walked over to him, and while he asked her questions about what she'd brought in the envelope, Shaw started to do pushups beside the cot, settling back into her frustration.

Once they'd sorted out the information from the Machine, Harold turned back to his computer, typing away. Root looked down the platform, where Shaw was finishing doing sit-ups and was eyeing pipes above her head. The taller woman headed back to Shaw just as she jumped and grabbed one of the beams.

The first pull-up was effortless. The second was a little slower, but not by much. Root admired Shaw's strong body as she pulled herself up a third time, then a fourth. By the eighth pull-up, she had to pause, adjusting her grip as she hung in the air. She pulled and for a moment it looked like her chin might not clear the bar. It did, and then she let her arms straighten again, hanging, resting.

"What, no even ten?" Root asked, moving around to stand in front of Shaw. Shaw was clearly annoyed at the comment, and Root smiled. Shaw grunted as she pulled herself up again, again barely clearing the bar. Root raised an eyebrow, motioning with her head for Shaw to do another. Shaw grimaced a little but did a tenth one, then dropped to the floor.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping Finch?" Shaw grumbled.

"That's exactly what I'm doing," Root teased. It took Shaw a second to realize the implication- that Root was just keeping Shaw out of Finch's hair. Shaw frowned a little more than before, her eyes soft before she turned away, hiding her face from view. She went a few steps closer to the cot and then started doing burpees, still turned away from Root. Root watched as Shaw dropped to the floor, did a push-up, jumped her legs back between her hands, then leapt into the air, knees almost touching her chest. Root watched her repeat the action over and over until she lost count. Finally Shaw stopped and Root watched her ribcage expand and compress as she breathed heavily.

"I have to go look into some things," Finch said cryptically, and both Root and Shaw turned, startled, not expecting him to be so nearby. He'd gathered up some things from his desk and was ready to leave. His eyes were on Shaw, clearly at his wits' end.

"We'll be here," Root said cheerfully. He looked at them tiredly and then turned to leave.

"I'll be back in a few hours. Mr. Reese intends to come after work, he may get here first," Finch said over his shoulder.

Shaw had turned and was looking at Root intensely. Neither of them spoke or moved while they listened to the fading sounds of Finch's uneven footsteps. Once the sound was gone, each looked expectantly at the other, waiting to see who would speak first.

Root decided to end the competition.

"Tried any new restaurants lately?" She asked with a teasing smirk, sauntering over to Shaw, who scowled.

"Fuck you," she snarled, unimpressed by Root's pestering. Root raised her eyebrows suggestively.

"If you want," she replied. Shaw's eyes narrowed, unamused and increasingly angry.

"You think this is funny?" Shaw asked, and the scathing look made a rush of fear pass over Root.

"No," Root said sternly, "but I'm trying to cheer you up some."

"Well you're not," Shaw spat, turning away again to pace, her fists tightly clenched at her sides. Root could see that Shaw was shutting down, fighting with Root because she was the only one there to pick a fight with. Root ground her teeth together, then took a deep breath and sighed on the exhale.

"Is this really what you want to do? Yell at me?" Root asked as if Shaw was a petulant child. Shaw looked back at Root with an irritated, questioning look on her face. Root smiled and let her usual light-hearted tone return. "There are more enjoyable ways to spend our time alone."

Understanding dawned on Shaw's face. Her jaw clenched when Root walked past her and sat down on the cot, smirking up at her. Shaw stood over her, a few feet away.

"I don't know what you think this is," Shaw said, trying hard not to let her anger get the better of her as she gestured with one hand at the two of them. Root watched the motion and even when Shaw's hand had dropped to her side again Root continued to look at it. She didn't want to have to have this conversation. Root shrugged a little.

"Whatever you want it to be," she replied. Shaw's lip pulled upward in anger and Root saw that she'd given the wrong answer. She didn't know what the right answer was, but whatever it was, she wanted to give it.

"I get it. You're here because the Machine wants you to be- but I don't need protecting. So why don't you go do whatever it is She's telling you to do next," Shaw said. Root didn't point out that She wasn't saying much of anything these days.

"I'm here because you're here," Root replied, barely suppressing her indignation.

"So what then? What do you want? I don't do relationships, I do one-night stands. I don't cuddle. I don't do breakfast-" Shaw tripped over her words, trying to stop herself from saying whatever it was that was going to come out next, but she couldn't keep it inside. "I don't- I've only slept with one other woman."

Root had been preparing a defense against relationships, cuddling. She'd been ready to say they didn't have to be anything in particular, that they could just have sex because it was a tension release if that's what Shaw wanted. A means to an end. But then that last sentence had come, full of anxiety, and that made Root take pause. She looked thoughtfully at Shaw, trying to decide how best to respond.

"I don't care about people," Shaw said, quieter now, with her large dark eyes shining, "I don't want to care."

The difference made by the additional word had Root feeling the same pressure in her chest that she'd felt the last time they were in the subway station together. Because when Shaw spoke, it wasn't in a way that said that she liked that she didn't care. It was said as if she felt defeated, because she did care. Root's heart ached as she glimpsed the inside of Shaw's world, the frayed edges of the tapestry. And she could see that Shaw was scared, no matter how much she denied it.

"Sometimes we don't get to choose who we care about," Root said meaningfully, and Shaw met her gaze. Root almost said flat out that she cared for Shaw, but she couldn't bring herself to be quite that vulnerable. So she left it open-ended, hoping Shaw would know what she meant.

Shaw shifted her weight to her other foot, and Root saw that she was trying to decide if she should step closer or not.

"Come here," Root said softly. Shaw didn't move. "Please."

"What do you want?" Shaw asked, angrier now, stepping closer despite her frustration. Root smirked and stood up, steering the conversation away from the serious again.

"I want you," she said. Sincerity masked as seduction. It was Root's forte.

Shaw looked angry that she wasn't being taken seriously, but Root could see that she was watching her mouth, eyes dark. Root bit her bottom lip just to watch Shaw's eyes get darker. Angrier.

A lump formed in Root's throat, and she swallowed to dispel her anxiety.

Shaw wouldn't look away from her, but wouldn't close the distance either. So Root stepped closer, doing her best to keep the movement fluid and unconcerned. She wondered if she was successfully imitating her usual swagger. More importantly, she wondered if Shaw could tell how nervous she felt.

Shaw didn't seem to, she just watched as Root got closer still, and then they were finally only inches apart, and Root tried to smirk but could feel her eyebrows pulling up microscopically at the same time, concerned. Shaw looked away, past Root's shoulder.

The taller woman wasn't sure if she should be the one to bridge the gap or if she should let Shaw do it. But Shaw wouldn't look at her, wouldn't acknowledge how close they were. Root let her eyes search Shaw's face, hoping to see some clue as to what she should do. There wasn't any, so Root sighed softly and looked down, watching Shaw's chest rise and fall, then to Shaw's hands, planted firmly on her hips, then down more to her own hands.

Root dug her thumbnail into the soft flesh of the bed under her middle finger's nail, a distraction to pull herself out of her loss for words and actions. She turned away from Shaw, annoyed that she was being ignored. Annoyed that she cared so much about getting Shaw to interact with her.

"I think Harold had some things he wanted me to look at," she said. It was a lie, and she was mad that she was lying about something so stupid, and mad that Shaw was getting under her skin, most likely without realizing she was doing it. Shaw was winning, she had gotten her fight and now she could sulk all she wanted.

Root started to walk away, back to the subway car.

But Root was wrong. Shaw hadn't won.

A hand closed on Root's forearm, reaching around from behind her, and jerked her back around to face Shaw.

Shaw was furious. And that made Root smirk again, knowing immediately that Shaw was far from winning. That in fact, Root was going to get her way.

"Don't," Shaw growled at her when she caught the look of satisfaction. Root tilted her head to one side lightheartedly, and Shaw reacted with ferocity. She yanked on Root's arm again, twisting it in a circle to hyperextend Root's shoulder, and Root realized when the action hurt so much that she jumped that Shaw had picked Root's bad arm on purpose. And that Shaw wanted to hurt her.

"Play nice," Root teased, knowing as soon the words exited her mouth that the pained, sharp edge to her voice would be obvious to Shaw. Shaw let up the pressure on Root's shoulder, looking sternly at her to show her who was in charge. Even when Shaw let Root pull her arm free, she kept giving her the same stony, pissed off look.

"You keep asking what I want," Root said, reflecting the same dark anger back at Shaw.

"What do you want?" Root threw the question back at Shaw, who looked angrier than ever. Root continued, the pitch of her voice climbing in irritation. "Do you want to hurt me?"

"Yes," Shaw hissed venomously. Then she looked away, her face twisting and looking even more pissed off as she put one hand up, rubbing at her scowling mouth with one rough hand. She let go of her face again and her hand went to her side, a tight fist. Keeping her eyes on some distant point, shaking her head, through clenched teeth she snarled, "no."

Root's eyebrows raised and her stomach turned. Her shoulder was still throbbing in pain, and she wondered if Shaw had damaged her rotator cuff.

The dark eyes wouldn't meet Root's even when she put her hand on Shaw's shoulder. Root moved her hand up, fingers wrapping around to the back of the shorter woman's neck. She let her thumb brush over Shaw's throat. When she still got no reaction, she tightened her hand's grip, digging her thumb hard into Shaw's skin, finding the soft flesh beside Shaw's hard windpipe. Immediately, Shaw looked into her eyes.

The pressure wasn't cutting off Shaw's air; that wasn't the point.

It was all about pain, and when Shaw tried to swallow against the discomfort, it only lodged Root's thumb deeper into her skin. Shaw's eyes watered and her throat started to spasm, coughing against Root's fingers. Root let up the pressure and leaned down, softly kissing the red splotch where she'd been pushing.

"I want you," Root repeated, her lips against Shaw's throat. Shaw didn't pull away. If anything, it felt like she was leaning closer to Root.

"I want to make you beg," Root continued, placing a kiss higher up on Shaw's neck.

"I don't beg," Shaw mumbled in irritation. Root kissed her jaw. "I don't perform."

Root kissed the corner of Shaw's mouth, the downturned point where her lips met, then paused, smiling a little when she looked up and saw that Shaw's eyes were on hers.

"You can't blame me for trying," Root said. Shaw's eyebrows lowered in anger.

"I don't beg," Shaw repeated dismissively. Root smiled and kissed her, finally, hands moving to rest on either side of her face. She was soft, slow, and Shaw kissed her back but didn't reach out for her. Didn't try to touch her.

Root released her and leaned back. She guessed that Shaw would stop her again, so she acted like she was going to walk away. And if Shaw didn't stop her, Root thought, then she would just keep walking into the subway car and she would fiddle with the Machine and Finch's computers. She didn't need Shaw, she reminded herself. Not really.

But her contingency plan was unnecessary, of course. As soon as Shaw realized that Root was stepping back with that little smile on her face, her mouth twisted into a deeper frown and she reached out for Root.

"Damn it," Shaw cursed herself before tugging them back together and kissing Root.