A/N Here we are! One more chapter (the epilogue) and Feature Creep is finally complete. Thank you to all the kind readers who have stuck with me for years while I didn't update. ;)

April 2012

Shaw and Reese managed to make it to the campus in four minutes, thanks to Shaw's lead foot. They parked as close as they could get to Marietta Hall—chances were the car would get towed from the faculty parking space, but that was Finch's problem to deal with, not theirs. They had more pressing matters to attend to.

"It appears Dr. Goodwin has left her laptop in her office," Finch said. "I've tracked her phone to a facilities maintenance building nearby."

"Let's go," Reese said.

They hurried down the narrow road between two squat buildings, passing a steady stream of unconcerned students and faculty. A few of them gave Reese odd looks—how often did a man in a suit jog through campus?—but other than that, the pedestrians paid the duo no mind.

"Take a right and head down the service alley," Finch directed.

"Creepy alleys again?" Reese said. "Dr. Goodwin should know better by now."

As they jogged down the alley, they become aware of a humming sound, soft at first, but soon loud enough to feel through the ground. They emerged near a massive building surrounded by mechanical equipment—ventilation fans, cooling towers, and transformers.

"It appears Dr. Goodwin entered the building through a side door past the pumping station," Finch said.

"Keep your eyes peeled," Shaw said to Reese. "It's loud as fuck here."

They crept along the wall, stepping over weeds growing from the gravel, and found the side entrance. It had a card reader, but it obviously hadn't been used in some time; the electronic latch next to it was broken open and rusted. With a nod, Reese unholstered his pistol and nudged the door open. Shaw was close on his tail, sweeping the room within for threats.

The space they found themselves in was taken up by pumps, boilers, and piping for the school's heating and air conditioning system. The cacophony was deafening. Moving with care, they headed for a set of double-doors that had been propped open at the end of the room. The noise fell off sharply as they emerged into a large warehouse area. On one side of the room was a series of shelves that reached all the way up to the rafters several stories above them; on the other was a large, open space with boxes and pallets scattered throughout.

Voices drifted from a nearby aisle between the shelves. They crept in that direction.

"Look, how much do you fucking want?" Branden said, his voice unusually high. "I can make you rich. All you have to fucking do is look the other way."

"I'm sorry, Branden, but I can't do that," Dr. Goodwin said.

"Wrong answer."

On cue, Shaw and Reese stepped around the corner to see Branden menacing Dr. Goodwin with a nasty-looking switchblade.

"Just put the knife down," Dr. Goodwin said calmly, holding her hands peacefully up in front of her. "Let's talk about this like rational human beings. Give me my hard drives back and I won't go to the police."

He shook his head, grinning manically. There were huge, dark circles beneath his eyes—it looked like he hadn't slept in days. "Sorry, no-can-do, Doc!"

"Drop the knife!" Shaw yelled, but Branden had spotted them and, instead, grabbed a startled Dr. Goodwin and held her body against his, the knife glinting dangerously against her throat.

"Go away!" Branden screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. His voice echoed throughout the warehouse. "Or I'll fucking slit her throat!"

"Easy," Reese said. He kept his voice calm and soothing. "No one needs to get hurt here. Just let the Doctor go and we can talk."

"Yeah right! Soon as I let her go, you'll fill me with lead. I'll kill her! I'll fucking do it! Get back!"

Reese glanced at Shaw, who shrugged.

"We're not going to shoot you," Reese said. "We just want Dr. Goodwin." To prove his point, he took his finger away from the trigger and aimed the gun away. Moving slowly, maintaining eye contact, he bent down and put the pistol on the ground, casually kicking it off to the side.

"Yeah well, what about her?" Branden said, tilting his head angrily towards Shaw, who was still holding her gun.

"Just making sure you don't poke a hole in my partner," Shaw said. Her aim was unwavering. "Keep the pointy things to yourself and everything will be fine."

"Yeah right, man!" Branden was trembling hard enough to make Dr. Goodwin shake as well. His voice was creeping up through the octaves, getting higher and higher pitched by the second. "It's the end of the line for me. Game over, man, game over! If you don't walk out of here in ten fucking seconds—"

He didn't get the chance to finish his threat. Dr. Goodwin, who by that point was looking less scared and more annoyed, raised her foot and drove her heel straight down on Branden's foot. Apparently his tattered sneakers weren't all that great at protecting his feet, because he howled in agony and loosened his grip on her throat. She pushed his arm away and followed up with an elbow to the gut, and an instant later, Reese intervened, charging in like a bowling ball and knocking Branden to the ground.

"You okay?" Shaw asked Dr. Goodwin. She had her hands to her throat. "No, move them—let me see." A thin, dripping line of red marred her neck, but it appeared superficial at worst. Shaw sighed and said, "That was a pretty big risk, Doc."

"Too much talking; not enough doing," she said. "Besides, I know my self defense. I was trying to talk him down before you got here, but if I had to, I would've fought back." She looked down at Branden, who was haplessly being handcuffed by Reese, and raised an eyebrow. "What's going to happen to him?"

"Detective Fusco will be over shortly to take him into custody," Reese said. He stood, dusting off his pants. "Didn't I tell you to stay put?"

Shaw muttered something that sounded like "bad role model".

Dr. Goodwin looked entirely unapologetic. "One of my research servers hung this morning. I needed to reset it."

Shaw raised her eyebrows. "And then you went to a creepy warehouse loading area in a place no one would come looking for you because...?"

"Because this...individual...stole three of the SSDs from it, and left me a note in one of the drive bays telling me where to find him. They have critical data on them. Can you check his pockets, please?"

Branden gave John a filthy glare, but otherwise didn't resist. A quick search turned up several SSDs, still in their drive sleds. He handed them to Shaw, who handed them to Dr. Goodwin. After a brief examination, she put them into her handbag, clearly satisfied.

Shaw, on the other hand, was not. "And you didn't call campus security because...?"

"Because he told me, in his note, that he would destroy the drives if I did."

"And you don't have backups because...?"

Dr. Goodwin finally had the sense to look bashful. "It—er, is a lot of data. This is part of a four-terabyte array. It can only handle two drive failures, not three. And my backup is scheduled to run only once a month."

Shaw looked unimpressed. "Even your students have better backups than that."

"I...may not always do as I preach."

"Obviously."

Reese cut in smoothly. "We're just glad you're safe, doc."

"As am I," Dr. Goodwin said. She looked uncertain. "I, er, wish to thank you two both, but I don't know how I can properly do that. Your intervention has undoubtedly saved my life."

"You're smart, doc," Reese said. "Just use a little more common sense from here on out..."

#####

They met that night at Addison's for burgers—John, Shaw, Finch, and Carter. (Fusco had bowed out, saying he had "a thing". Reese had given him a rare smile and told him to enjoy the softball game with his son.)

As they waited for their food to arrive, they filled each other in on the happenings after Branden had been arrested.

"Elizabeth was very happy to hear the news," Reese said. "She's been worried sick about Dr. Goodwin."

"Isn't Elizabeth about to flunk Dr. Goodwin's class?" Shaw asked. "If I'd been in her shoes, I wouldn't have been worrying too much. Maybe I'd get to take the final with someone easier." When Finch gave her a disapproving look, she added, "What? I'm just saying. It would've been win/win either way."

"I'm sure Elizabeth has been studying hard," Reese said. "When she's not sneaking out of the hospital, of course."

"And now we know where she gets it from." Shaw rolled her eyes. "She needs some better role models."

"What, like you two?" Carter said, and chuckles went around the table.

"Well," Carter said, clearly pleased with herself. "Speaking of bad role models...we got a full confession out of Branden. Didn't take five minutes."

"Hah!" Shaw said. "No surprise. He was pretty wimpy."

"He was crumbling before I even got in there," Carter confirmed. "And when I told him we had gotten access to his Skype records and coin wallet to tie him to William Dunkel and the computer in the cyber café...he spilled. Said Dr. Goodwin was getting too close to his botnet and tried to have her offed by the first hitman, and when that didn't work, he lured her to the campus to try and kill her."

"So he was the botnet admin?" Reese asked.

"Yep. He turned the keys over to Donnelly and Dr. Goodwin. The FBI is pouring over the botnet now."

"Excellent work as always," said Finch. "That goes to everyone involved. I propose a toast: to another successful case." He raised his glass.

"To nobody dying," Carter said, raising her glass as well.

"To giving Donnelly more gray hairs," Reese said, smiling at the dirty look from Carter.

"To these fucking amazing burgers," Shaw said, eying the server coming their way with a tray laden with food.

Glasses clinked, and they all settled in to eat.

#####

Shaw waited just long enough for the lift doors to open before she dragged me out into the clinic hallway by my uninjured wrist. Her grip was implacable and more than a little frightening. I mean, I knew Shaw was strong for her size, but—

"Oww," I grumbled. "Shaw, loosen up a bit!"

"No," she said. She walked down the corridor, pulling me along with her towards a tall door that I was really getting tired of seeing.

So maybe sneaking out on Dr. Tillman again had been a bad idea.

"Come on," I whined.

"I warned you," she said without turning around. "I told you, if you crept out on Dr. Tillman again—"

"But I needed to go home and reboot my desktop!" I said. "It locked up and I couldn't get into it remotely anymore." I pulled against Shaw, digging my heels into the carpet, but the effort was ineffectual—if I didn't keep walking, I was pretty sure Shaw was going to drag me by my arm back to the room.

"No," Shaw said. "You really didn't need to do that."

"I took the subway!" I said, exasperated. "I didn't even move around that much!"

"Doesn't matter. I told you to stay put."

Shaw opened the door with one hand and pushed me into the room before her, releasing my wrist. I stumbled and turned to face her, crossing my arms. I didn't get why she was making such a big deal about this. I felt fine. My chest didn't even hurt anymore.

Shaw looked...not exactly mad, but frighteningly intense. Her lips were drawn in a thin, flat line, but there was a fire behind her dark eyes that made me distinctly nervous.

"Shaw, come on," I said, resisting the urge to look away. "Stop acting like I just murdered a freaking puppy."

She stared for several seconds and then finally said, "Get in bed."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, making a few exasperated noises in the process, but I obeyed, sitting on the bed and lying back.

"There," I said. "Happy? You can go now."

Her expression changed. A tiny half-smirk appeared, playful and predatory.

"No," she said, and I groaned.

Shaw closed the door behind her. Aw, great, I thought. Here comes the big lecture. But then, she did something unexpected.

She locked the door.

"Uh," I said. An uneasy feeling had settled in the pit of my stomach. "Shaw? What are you doing?"

"I warned you," she said again. This time, her voice was silky, dulcet. "I told you what would happen."

I gulped. "What are you talking about?"

"Fool me once, shame on you," she said. She crossed the room to a supply cabinet and yanked it open. "Fool me twice..."

She rummaged around in the cabinet and pulled out a bundle of leather cuffs and straps.

"...get tied to the hospital bed," she said with relish.

My stomach dropped straight out from under me.

Oh my God, I though. What the fuck. Why does Tillman even have those in there? Shaw sauntered towards me, dangling the straps from her fingers. And how did Shaw know they were there?

"Woah, uh—" I stuttered as she stepped closer. "I—I thought you were joking about that!"

"Nope," she said.

"I—" I wanted to shrink back against the bed, but I found I couldn't move—I was frozen in place. Shaw stopped next to the bed, one hand on her hip.

Oh my God. This is happening. What the fuck.

"I know you're into this kind of thing," Shaw said, dangling the cuffs from her fingers. Her gaze was electrifying, like staring down a tiger, but I found that I couldn't look away.

"I mean—" I squeaked, "I've never—not with anyone else yet, you know?"

"You're just dying to try it out, aren't you?"

I gulped, trying desperately to ignore the flutter of excitement between my legs. "Yeah, but—but—not here! Tillman could walk in any moment!"

"No, she can't," Shaw said. I blinked and suddenly she was on the bed, straddling me. "I locked the door and Finch sent her home for the day. It's just you and me. So, I've got a question for you..."

"W-what would that be?" I said. I was shaking, but not from fright—no, it was anticipation.

"Should we poke the sleeping dragon, or let her sleep in a little more?"

I blinked. "Uh, what?"

"Let's wake her," Shaw said. "It's past noon. Besides, she'll be really happy to get out of here."

I was very confused. "Shaw, what are you—"

"Okay," Shaw said. "Hey, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, wake up." She tapped me on the forehead. Finally, the light bulb went on.

"Oh, hell no," I said, and I grabbed Shaw by the shirt and pulled her towards me. Shaw looked startled for an instant and then she leaned in eagerly.

But just before our lips met, the world dissolved into a dim haze.

"Elizabeth," Dr. Tillman said. "Hey, sleepyhead."

"I'm gonna murder you," I mumbled dreamily into my pillow. "I'm gonna murder you, and all the cake is gone."

"What?" Dr. Tillman sounded puzzled.

"Your death's gonna be really slow and painful. And Shaw's gonna help."

"I'm going to what?" Shaw said as I forced my eyes open. As soon as I saw her, I felt the blood rise to my face. I probably looked like a beet. Oh, hell, she was wearing the same outfit she was wearing in the dream—but, thank goodness, her hands were empty.

"Hmm, someone didn't get their beauty sleep," Dr. Tillman said. "How are you feeling this morning?"

"Murderous," I said. "Also, my ear's still a bit muffled. But other than that, pretty good." I sat up in bed. The movement made my chest twinge but nothing more.

"It's like, noon, sleepyhead," Shaw said. I glanced nervously at her, then quickly looked away.

"Huh," John said. He looked right at me and, goddammit, he knew somehow. "Did we interrupt a dream?"

"I'm adding you to my shit list," I told him.

"Me, Tillman—but not Shaw. Huh. What do you make of that, Dr. Tillman?"

She blinked in surprise. "I honestly couldn't say," she said.

"What's going on?" I said. I hoped that the irritation would mask the awkwardness.

"Prison break," Shaw said, and now she was looking curious too, or at least, as curious as she ever got.

"Actually," Dr. Tillman said, "I dunno. I mean, I have to clear her for checkout. She seems healthy, but she also wants to kill me, so I have doubts about her mental health. She might have to stay a few more days."

"What?" I snarled.

"Kidding," Dr. Tillman said with a wink.

"Don't poke the dragon," I grumbled.

"I am concerned about your ear though," she said as she did one final checkup. "I'll let you go, but I'm expecting you back here in two weeks, just to see how you're doing."

"Fine, sure, whatever."

For a jailbreak, we sure took our sweet time exiting the clinic. I got dressed in the comfy sweatpants and hoodie that John and Shaw had brought, and then spent the next five minutes standing around waiting while Dr. Tillman went over my ailments in excruciating detail and told John and Shaw, in no uncertain terms, that I was to take it easy for the next few days.

"Hey," I said, poking her shoulder, "I'm right here, you know."

"Yep," Tillman said. "And I know you won't behave, either. You spend too much time around these two."

"I get the idea," I said, crossing my arms. "No wrestling bears or scuba driving for the next two weeks. Got it, Doc."

"All right, all right. Let's get you out of here." With an amused little sigh, Dr. Tillman led us to the front door. I couldn't get out of this place fast enough. Don't get me wrong, Dr. Tillman was kind—if not endlessly sarcastic—but after a week and a half being cooped up in this place, I just wanted to be home. I gave Dr. Tillman a hug at the front door and then we left.

The weather was moody, all overcast skies and hazy sunlight, but it was warmer than it looked. I took a deep breath and grinned, happy to finally be outside. John and Shaw led me down the front steps of the clinic to the sidewalk, and then to a familiar SUV parked at the curb—

"My car!" I said, grinning. "I was wondering what'd happened to it."

"We got it out just before the FBI swooped in," John said. "Found your purse, too. Not sure about your burner, but Finch says it's untraceable, so don't worry about it."

They helped me into the passenger's seat and Shaw slid gracefully behind the wheel. I couldn't help but snicker when she had to move the seat a few notches forward.

"I can't believe you drive this thing regularly," she said. "We need to get you a new car."

"Hey!" I complained. "I like my car!"

"Stockholm Syndrome. What is this, a hundred and ninety horsepower? How can you tolerate this?"

"Shaw..."

She spent the entire drive home trying to convince me that I needed a new car. I remained unconvinced even as John helped me to my front door. At least, he tried to help—I batted him away and unlocked my own front door all by myself.

John and Shaw dotted over me and made me promise that I wasn't about to go bungee-jump off the Brooklyn Bridge. Once they finally left, the silence settled in. It was nice.

The first thing I did was put on a kettle for tea.

The second thing I did was run back to my bedroom and hug my desktop computer.

"Oh, I missed you," I said, running my hands over the mechanical keyboard. "We've got so many things to program."

It was wonderful to finally be home. I sprawled backwards on my bed—my own bed, finally—and spread out to take up as much space as possible. I sighed, content, and didn't move until I heard the kettle whistle.

#####