Happy New Year and sorry for the lateness. This was meant to be posted last night but I forgot. Also shoutout to DarkLie for the really nice review on the last chapter. Thanks!


/analog interface not responding

_OPERATIONS

/assessing options ...

/optimal outcome determined

/contacting {SHAW, sameen} …


beepbeepbeep beeeeep beeeeep beeeeep beepbeepbeep

beepbeepbee –

"Okay, I'm awake god damn it. What's the fucking problem?" The frantic beeping had jolted Shaw awake immediately. She hadn't even looked at her phone, but she knew it was the Machine. Shaw certainly hadn't set her phone to beepSOS at her in the middle of the night.

The phone beeped again, with a single, much more reasonable tone. Shaw picked it up and found a text message.

Analog Interface in distress.

"Root? Where?"

She was across the room in an instant, pulling on her discarded pants as she went. She grabbed a handful of spare pistol magazines from the top drawer of her dresser and shoved them in her pockets, then threw open her closet. Her phone beeped a couple more times as she was looking at the rack of weapons there, but ignored it until she'd selected both an MP5 and her RFB.

She'd received two more text messages. The first was a set of coordinates she didn't know offhand, but recognized as being in the city. The other read: Threat non-severe. Danger low. Heavy weapons unnecessary. Shaw pocketed the phone and headed for the door.

"Don't give me that shit, it's Root," She said as she pulled her boots on. Then she realized how that could be interpreted, and even though only the Machine could hear her, she immediately clarified: "I mean, she can barely get the groceries without turning it into a hostage situation. Danger's never low when she's involved."

The Machine didn't text back, which Shaw took as Her admitting she was right. Still, she heeded the Machine's advice and only took the MP5 with her.


The coordinates led Shaw to a bar not far from Root's apartment. Nothing looked out of the ordinary when she drove past it, so she parked down the street and approached on foot. She approached quickly but carefully, keeping her eye out for potential threats and one hand inside her jacket on the grip of her MP5.

She was a few steps from the door when it was flung open.

A woman, tall, slim, with dark hair – Root, she realized quickly, was shoved out. Root stumbled, got her bearings, then turned around and tried to push past the bouncer who had just thrown her out and back into the bar.

"The people should be allowed to celebrate Her birthday! They deserve to know!" Root cried as she pushed vainly against the bouncer.

"They deserve to be able to drink in peace."

"But She's real! She's watching over us all right now, because she loves us! We should all be celebrating her birthday." The bouncer casually brushed off Root's attempt at a Vulcan nerve pinch. Shaw thought she heard her mutter: "Why won't She tell me how to hurt you?"

That was when she decided to step in, before Root got someone – most likely herself – hurt. She stepped out of the shadow she was hiding in and into Root's line of sight.

"Hey, dumbass."

"Sameen!" Root yelled joyfully as she ran the few steps toward her. She was so fixated on Shaw she didn't notice the bouncer slamming the door behind her. "Did you come to celebrate Machinemas with me?"

Shaw, having experienced Root in this state before, knew better than to argue with her. "Yeah, sure." Shaw looped her arm around Root's and started dragging her back to her car. "Come on, drunky, let's get you home."


Shaw managed to get Root into the car, buckled up, and her hands and feet zip-tied together just to be safe before Root started to fight her.

"We have to go back, Shaw. We have to go back!"

"Uh-huh," Shaw grunted, paying no attention to Root as she started the car.

"She gave me a mission, Shaw. I have to tell everyone how much she loves them."

Shaw's curiosity overcame her instinct to not engage with drunk Root. "She told you to do this?"

"Well, I had to convince her." Root frowned. "But she hasn't said anything since then."

"You didn't convince Her, She cut you off and called me to take you home."

Root spent the remainder of the short trip aggressively pouting at Shaw, while Shaw ignored her.


Dragging Root out of the car and up to her apartment went surprisingly well.

After Shaw dumped her on the couch, she went to the kitchen in search of a drink. She grabbed a beer for herself – noticing, but choosing to ignore the fact that Root just happened to stock her favourite brand – and poured a glass of water for Root.

"Thanks sweetie," Root said when Shaw handed her the water. Shaw grunted and dropped onto the couch beside her. "You're staying?" she asked with a tiny uncertain note in her voice.

"Yeah Root, I'm staying." Shaw knew it was a bad idea, but she looked over at Root anyway. Root was staring back at her with that stupid adoring look on her face. "Someone has to make sure your stupid ass doesn't wander off again."

That didn't seem to deter Root. She tore herself away from staring at Shaw for a moment to down a few gulps of water. Then she set the glass down and flopped down into Shaw's lap, staring up at her face. "I knew you liked my ass."

"It's one of your few redeeming qualities," Shaw admitted.

"Happy Machinemas, Sam."

"Yeah, sure, you too." Shaw took a swig of her beer, then noticed wasn't staring at her anymore. She nudged her, but got no response. "Root?"

She was asleep. In Shaw's lap. Normally, Shaw would've just shoved her off. But that would've taken energy. And really, she wasn't in that bad of a position. She had beer, and Root's couch was surprisingly comfortable. And she'd rather not deal with Root whining about being being dumped on the floor if she could avoid it. So Shaw let her stay.


/optimal outcome achieved

/disconnecting feeds