THE SAME NIGHT
Shaw's hands tightened around the handlebars of her bike as she sat in front of Reese's house. She'd been sitting on the bike for almost ten minutes, but she couldn't quite bring herself to go knock on his door. Sighing, she let her head droop.
It was humiliating to have to ask him for help three days after she'd taken his girlfriend from him. She'd never wanted to make anything work the way she'd wanted her relationship with Root to, but she'd still managed to mess it up. Her anger had gotten the better of her.
Root was out of her mind if she thought she could handle herself alone with the mob. Three months ago, she had never been to a dive bar and now she thought she was part of the criminal underground. Shaw had tried to talk her out of it and she wasn't going to stick around to watch Root get hurt.
Lifting her head, she climbed off the bike. She turned to untie her duffelbag before changing her mind. It wouldn't do to show up on Reese's doorstep with her bag only for him to turn her away. Maybe she could pretend she was just here to visit. At one in the morning.
She kicked her bike angrily and let the pain in her foot clear her mind. When Root had told her that she was going to work for the mob, Shaw's mind had clouded with fury. She'd never trusted Zoe and now she had a solid reason to hate her. She'd taken advantage of Root's naivety and longing to be wild. If Shaw saw her on the street, she would probably deck her.
Anger came so easily to Shaw and she had trouble letting it go. Shaw frowned. Had she been wrong to leave Root? Had she gotten too angry? Root wouldn't be safer alone. Still, if she wasn't going to let Shaw fix this, then she probably wouldn't listen to other advice. What was Shaw supposed to do? Wait until someone threatened Root's life and fight them? Keep arguing with Root until she gave in?
What if Root never gave in? Would they just fight until they hated each other? Should Shaw just have watched silently? Shaking her head, she started for Reese's house, shoving her hands into her pockets. There was no point in just sitting around until the relationship wasn't worth her time.
It was better to leave now. The relationship had been fun until now. Even the sneaking around and lying had been kind of exciting. Maybe Shaw had only been so drawn to Root because it was forbidden. She'd just wanted to turn a straight girl and corrupt a good girl. She tried to believe that.
Sighing, Shaw stopped at the bottom of the porch steps. Reese had not been her first choice. Her first choice had been Carter, or even Fusco, but she knew they'd just tell her to go back to Root and figure it out. They would probably say something like "Root is an adult and can make her own decisions. You should support her." or "You can't just leave every time you're uncomfortable with a situation." or "She'd be better off with you there."
Well, that's where they were wrong. Shaw didn't have to do anything she didn't want to. She didn't have to stay in a relationship that was all fighting and no fun, especially when she'd never wanted to be in a relationship to begin with. Even if she did want to be in a relationship with Root, she had no desire to watch her die. She wasn't going to sit around and wait for Elias to lock Root in Ridgestone to be tortured for being a dyke. Shaw would rather leave her behind and assume she was alive and well.
Looking up at Reese's front door, Shaw sighed. Had it really only been three days since they'd left here? It felt like months. Shaw hadn't thought about seeing Reese again since they'd left. They'd gone a long time apart before and she'd wanted to enjoy her new freedom with Root. Hopefully, his own freedom with Finch would make him forgiving.
Clenching her jaw at the thought of relying on charity yet again, Shaw climbed the three steps and knocked on the door. She stepped back and tried to think of something to say. What did you say to your best friend whose girl you just stole and then immediately broke up with?
She waited for a moment before knocking again. It was late and Shaw had forgotten that Reese was a homebody now. He was probably asleep. Deciding to try one more time, Shaw banged on the door with her fist.
Next door, Finch's porch light turned on. Wincing at the awkwardness of waking up Reese's lover, she turned toward the other house. The front door opened and Reese stepped out onto the porch in his pajamas. They stared at each other silently for a moment. Waving, Shaw watched as Reese disappeared back into Finch's house.
Well. There had always been the chance that Reese wouldn't help her. Rubbing a hand over her hair, Shaw jumped the three steps onto the walkway, preparing herself to deal with Carter's judgement. She was halfway down the sidewalk when Finch's door opened again and Reese stepped out.
Slowing to a stop, she waited to see what he would do. If he decided to fight her, she wouldn't hesitate to beat him. Although, she might let him get a few good shots in. It wasn't like she didn't deserve it. Even in the current circumstances, though, her pride wouldn't let her lose to him entirely.
He walked down the steps and started across the lawn toward her. She clenched her fists, shifting her weight and getting ready for a fight. Smiling, he shook his head.
"I'm not going to fight you, Shaw," he said as he reached her. "It's good to see you."
She clenched her jaw. He was being nice and she wished he would give her a reason to be mad at him, too. She wasn't sure how she would feel when her anger was gone. If she would even feel anything. "Yeah. You too."
He glanced at her bike, noticing the duffelbag still strapped there. "Where's Root?"
"Not here," she snapped. Crossing her arms, she regretted coming to him. "Whatever. Forget it."
She tried to step away, but he grabbed her arm and stopped her. "Shaw. Come inside."
"I don't need your pity."
"I'm not pitying you." He waited for her to look at him. "Chasing skirts second."
Barking a laugh, Shaw nodded, her eyebrows raising. "Wow." She smirked at him. "Mayhem boys second." Sticking a finger in his face. "I'm not doing the handshake."
He smiled fondly. "But you remember it?"
"Of course," she replied, insulted that he even had to ask. She took a deep breath, feeling a little bit better. There was a reason they'd been friends for almost thirty years. Pulling her arm out of Reese's hand, she nodded toward her bike. "Let me get my bag."
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
ONE WEEK AFTER
Root rubbed her temple with her fingers, trying to focus on what Claire was telling her. It had been a long week and she was running on fumes. After hours of looking at modulator schematics, she was ready to go home and go to sleep.
During The week that she was gone, construction had finished on the new storage room. All of her project's punchcards were stacked in well-labelled boxes against the wall and four desks had been placed beside them. Jason and Daniel were happy to have personal workspaces, but Root would classify Claire as "exuberant."
Everything Root asked her to do was done with enthusiasm and Root half-expected Claire to have a heart attack from all the added stress. Thankfully, Claire's excess of work ethic seemed to mask Root's subdued energy. Root could hand off tasks and sit at her desk, pretending to reorganize paper.
It had been an extremely hard week. Root had spent the weekend following her break-up in bed. She wanted to talk to someone about what happened, but she only wanted to talk to Sameen, or even John. Joss and Lionel might have understood, but she knew they'd probably be on Sameen's side of the argument. Not that there were sides. Root wanted to be on Sameen's side, too.
She still wasn't sure what had made Sameen pack up and leave, but if she let herself think too much about it, she would fall apart. Instead, she'd arrived at the office an hour early on Monday, ready to work. Even if Harold had come in, she wouldn't have cared. Maybe she could have channelled her frustration at her own life at him.
Instead, he'd missed their Friday morning meeting, something he'd never done before. She wanted to call him a coward, but she knew she probably would have asked for another week off work to spend time with her lover if she could have. The thought of Harold taking a celebratory trip with John just depressed her more.
Dropping her hand, she straightened up and tried to focus on the schematic in front of her. She sat on the edge of Claire's desk, her pants giving her the ability to spread her legs and balance. Even if she wasn't in a relationship or going to homosexual clubs, Root wasn't going to go back to corsets and gloves.
After work on Monday, where she wore the one pair of pants she'd owned, she'd gone to Sears and bought two weeks worth of clothing. Without Sameen there watching with her dark eyes, Root had felt free to spend as much money as she wanted to and get herself a new wardrobe. She'd bought boots and flats, blouses and button downs, and several silk ribbons to tie up her hair. She'd even gotten herself a manicure, choosing black nail polish. No more soft pink tips for her.
"It looks great," Root managed through her pounding headache. "Do you think this is your final plan?"
Claire blinked up at her, brow furrowing. "This was your plan."
"Right," she mumbled. "Sorry. My head is killing me."
"Your head's been hurting all week," Jason said from the other side of the desk. "Maybe you should go see a doctor."
She waved his concern away. "No, I'm fine. I just… haven't been sleeping well. This project is getting to me."
He looked skeptical, but he turned back to the schematic. "I think the modem has potential. We should start building one next week and see if we can print."
"We don't have anywhere to send it," Daniel pointed out.
Smiling, Root pointed to the door of the storage room. "We'll move a printer in here and see if we can get something to print wirelessly."
"That's at least 200 feet," Claire said breathlessly. "It would be a miracle."
Root patted her on the head, giving her a faux-condescending look. "We're in the business of miracles, kid. If we can't get something to print 200 feet away, how is this going to go all the way to the DoD?"
The team laughed and Root winced, pressing a hand to her head. She stood up off the desk, crossing to her own and opening the top drawer. She pulled out a bottle of Anacin and dropped a couple into her hand. Taking them dry, she turned and rested her butt on her desk.
"I'll put in a request for parts before I leave today," Daniel told her. "Zoe will make sure they're here on Monday."
Root nodded, crossing her arms. "We'll start building on Monday and hopefully be ready for a test by friday." She thought for a moment. "Go ahead and order parts for all the models we sketched out. No reason not to try it all."
He gave her a thoughtful look before heading out to the main floor. Jason stuck his hands into his pants' pockets and smiled awkwardly. When he didn't say anything, Root raised an eyebrow.
"Yes?"
He blushed. "Nothing. It's just…" He shrugged. "You seem different."
"Change happens," Root replied, trying not to let her feelings show on her face. She'd been different after Chicago, too, and she'd probably be different when this project was done. "That's life."
Claire laughed at that, resting her arms on her desk. "I like your clothes. They're very hip. I wish I could buy new clothes."
"Just wait until your first paycheck," Root answered winking. Pushing herself off the desk, she waved her hands dismissively. "Go home. Get some rest. Be ready to work on Monday."
She turned around and started gathering her papers together. Because she was the only one with a key to the storeroom, she wasn't worried about anything going missing, but she didn't want to come in on Monday with a messy desk. Something moved in the corner of her eye and she looked up to see Claire hovering beside her.
"Yes?" she asked, straightening up.
"Do you want to get a drink?" Claire asked. Catching herself, she held her hands up before Root said anything. "I know you have a… You aren't single, but I thought we could get a drink as friends. Coworkers."
The invitation flattered Root, but the pounding in her head kept her from saying yes. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "Maybe another time? I've got a headache."
Claire licked her lips, looking away nervously. "I… don't mean to be forward, but is everything ok? You aren't as cheery as you were before."
"Well," Root started, sighing, "things are different now. Not a lot to be cheery about."
"Oh." Claire shifted, still looking away. "Is there anything I can do?"
"Keep working hard," Root answered, smiling tightly. "Don't worry about me. I will be fine. If this acoustic coupler project doesn't go well…" She winked at Claire. "Just keep working hard."
Claire finally seemed to relax, grinning at Root. She gave her a mock-salute. "Yes, ma'am."
The door to the storage room opened and Zoe entered. Root's smile fell from her face and her headache grew worse. She'd managed to avoid Zoe for most of the week, hiding away in the storeroom. Zoe had no reason to be in here unless she was coming specifically to talk to Root.
"Oh," Zoe said, noticing Claire. "I'm sorry. I thought your team had left for the day."
"Claire and I were having a conversation," Root said, not hiding the annoyance in her voice. "A private conversation."
Claire looked between them nervously. "I can go."
"No." Reaching out, Root laid a hand on Claire's arm. "Stay."
She knew that Zoe wouldn't talk about anything suspicious in front of Claire. Zoe caught the obvious hint and narrowed her eyes. She put her hands on her hips.
"I was hoping to talk to you. Can I buy you dinner?"
"No, thank you," Root replied quickly. She gave Zoe the best smile she could muster. "I have plans."
Claire frowned at Root. "But you said-" She bit back a yelp as Root's hand on her arm tightened. "Right. We're getting drinks."
Zoe took a step forward. "I could come along."
"I'll be blunt," Root said, sighing, "since I know that's what you and your friends are fond of. I agreed to work with you, but that's it. Whatever friendship we had is over. Our deal cost me the… friendship of someone who was very close to me." She watched Zoe's eyebrows jump up. "So. You can understand my reluctance."
"I can," Zoe replied, sounding contrite. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I hope that, in time, I can earn my way back into your confidence."
With a nod, she turned and left the room, closing the door behind. Root stared after her for a moment before remembering that she was still holding Claire's arm in a vice grip. Releasing her, Root smiled apologetically.
"Sorry about that. Zoe and I had a fight. I guess. Thanks for covering for me."
Claire shrugged. "No problem. I've been there."
Root watched as she moved back to her desk. Claire quickly picked her bag up and put the long strap over her head. She was still wearing out of date clothing and she could really use a haircut. Root smiled fondly, remembering how she had looked when she'd started working here.
"Claire," Root called, catching her before she left. "Hold on."
Looking at Root, Claire hesitated. "Yes?"
"I can't go get a drink, but how about something else?" Root smiled kindly, trying to make up for her shortness. "I'd like to buy you a couple new dresses as a thank you for just now, and for coming to work with me."
"Oh," Claire chuckled, blushing. "I couldn't. Really."
Picking the bottle of Anacin off her desk, Root shoved it into her pocket and stood up. "I insist. No offense, but you need some new clothes. I would have killed for this." She pulled her wallet and keys out of her drawer and put them into her other pockets. "Come on. I'll tell you about the secretaries and you can help me fight them."
With a grin, Claire jumped forward to open the door for her. "Okay!
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
TWO WEEKS AFTER
Shaw glowered at Carter over her glass of beer, scowling. "I'm not playing another softball game. I did the one. Then I did the make-up game. I'm not doing another."
"Come on!" Carter pleaded, clasping her hands together and batting her eyelashes. "You're the best catcher we've ever had."
"That says more about your team than it does about me," Shaw shot back. She slumped back into the booth, picking up her beer. "I'm not into team sports."
Carter rolled her eyes and turned to Fusco. "Help me out here."
"What am I supposed to say?" he asked helplessly. At Carter's glare, he scratched his head and turned to Shaw. "How about...uh…" His eyes lit up. "I'll buy you as many hotdogs as you want!"
Chuckling, Shaw just toasted with her beer. "Not good enough, Lionel."
Carter slapped his arm. "Hotdogs? Offer hamburgers! Everyone likes a hamburger."
"Hamburgers?" he repeated, scoffing. "Hamburgers have nothing on hotdogs."
"Excuse me?"
Sensing the start of another bickering match, Shaw took a sip of her beer and turned her attention away. She looked over the crowd at the Black Cherry. It was Friday night and the place was packed as always. She told herself she wasn't looking for Root.
In the two weeks since they'd broken up, Shaw had succeeded in pushing Root from her mind. Instead of thinking about her every waking moment, she only thought about her a few times a day. It was usually when she was working on the assembly line, putting together radios, or when she was riding the bus or her motorcycle, or when she was at Reese's house, or at the Black Cherry, or at a shindig with her friends. So. Hardly at all.
Shaw tried not to wonder if Root was still doing well, or if she'd made a misstep with Zoe that had gotten back to the mob. It wasn't like Shaw would do anything if Root had been hurt. It wasn't her job to protect her anymore. It had never been her job apparently.
She did her best to just focus on her work and her friends, but she was finding that she missed the company. Root had always been a good time and a good conversation. Shaw hated that she missed Root. She'd never worried about anyone before. Maybe Reese, but that was because he'd enlisted his stupid ass and went to fucking war.
He was living the high life now. Shaw basically had his whole house to herself these days. Reese spent all his time at Finch's place. It was impossible not to imagine what it would be like to have Root with her in the house. Every room brought back memories.
It wasn't affecting her, Shaw thought to herself. Root had gotten into her head and Shaw just had to kick her out again. Maybe it was time to distract herself with someone else. Looking around the bar, her eyes landed on an Asian woman who was looking at her with large, dark eyes. Shaw sipped her beer as the woman toasted her.
Winking, Shaw toasted back. She just needed to remind herself that she wasn't the relationship type. She should never have gotten serious with Root in the first place. The way to stay safe was to limit the time spent with other people. Three nights. Fuck them and forget them.
"Shaw?"
Blinking, Shaw turned back to her friends. She'd gotten lost in thought. "Yeah?"
Carter frowned at her. "Did you hear what I said?"
"I'll be honest," Shaw replied, sitting up to face the table, "No." The friends laughed and Shaw crossed her arms on the table, keeping an eye on the attractive woman at the bar. "Was it hotdogs or hamburgers? Because you've forgotten the best option. Cheeseburgers."
The word reminded her of Root and she frowned. How had everything she liked suddenly become connected to Root? Shaw couldn't buy a bud without thinking about Root. She couldn't shower, or get dressed, or drink coffee without some memory coming to mind. Maybe it was because she was still going to all the same places they went together. Maybe she needed to find new places, or actually leave the city.
"I was asking if new uniforms would persuade you to join the game."
Laughing, Shaw wrapped her hands around her beer. "'New' Uniforms? You didn't have old uniforms."
Shrugging, Carter just grinned. "Well, now we have new uniforms. Someone anonymously donated some! They were at the back door when Harper opened yesterday. They even say Black Cherry on the front!"
"Who would donate uniforms to our little outfit?" Fusco asked, snorting. He took a sip of his Coca-Cola. "We're not good enough for anyone to know we exist."
"Root does," Carter said quietly. She waited for Shaw's eyes to meet her before giving her a meaningful look. "I think Root donated them. She's the only person we know with the money."
Shaw clenched her jaw, knowing that Carter was right. It was so like Root to flaunt her money like that. She probably just wanted to remind Shaw that she was better off. Shaw tried to ignore the way the knot in her stomach loosened at the confirmation that Root was still ok.
"If anything," Shaw said, "that makes me less likely to play. What if Root came to admire the new uniforms?"
Carter and Lionel shared a glance. They'd been doing that a lot lately, and it was starting to grate on Shaw's nerves. She didn't need to be pitied. She wasn't sad that Root was gone, wasn't upset, wasn't missing her. She was just angry that she'd wasted so much time.
"Shaw…" Carter started, resting her arms on the table. "Maybe you should talk to her."
"I tried that," Shaw bit, hackles rising. "She doesn't want to listen and I'm not going to beg. I'm not going to watch her make a mistake and get killed. I'm not going to visit her in Ridgestone. I'm not going to stick around until I hate the person who loves me."
Both Fusco and Carter looked surprised at that. Shaw clicked her tongue, looking away. Her eyes landed on the woman at the bar and she thought again about just drowning her anger between someone's legs. If she couldn't love anyone, she might as well not even try.
"Did she say that?" Fusco asked. "Did she say she loves you?"
"What does it matter?"
Carter scoffed. "It matters, Shaw. If Root loves you-"
"It doesn't matter." Shaw pushed a hand through her hair. "I can't love her back. I was stupid to even pretend. I mean, is she really going to be fine with that in five years? Ten? How long until what I have to give isn't enough for her anymore? No. She's proven that I'm not enough now and I will never be."
"Bullshit." Fusco pointed his finger in Shaw's face. "That chick knows who you are and, somehow, she loves you anyway. You're an idiot to leave."
"She told me to go!"
Rolling her eyes, Carter crossed her arms. "You know that's not what she meant. She wanted you to cool your temper. You're just running away because you're scared that you might really care for her."
Shaw gripped her glass until her knuckles creaked. She didn't care about anyone and she never would. It was pointless to even try. She should have slept with Root the first week and gotten it out of her system. All the sneaking around and teasing was what got her interested, not Root herself.
So what if Shaw had started reading the newspaper because she missed the way Root would tell her the daily news? So what if she watched Milton Berle alone now? So what if she slept in the guestroom because the bed still smelled like Root?
Even through the haze of her anger, Shaw knew she was lying. For the first time in her life, she really missed someone. When Reese was away at war, Shaw could write him letters and listen to the radio and talk to his mother. Now? Now, she just had to wait for her attachment to Root to fade and hope she didn't run into her on the street.
"Of course I care about her," Shaw said almost inaudibly. "But I left. She wouldn't want to see me anyway."
"I don't think that's true," Carter replied gently. "Why don't you talk to her? Tell her you love her in your own way."
The reminder that Shaw didn't love the same as other people stung and she chugged the last of her beer. She'd made her decision when she left Root and she wasn't going to grovel at her feet to go back. Slamming her glass onto the table, she wiped her mouth.
"Forget it. I've just had too much to drink."
"Shaw-"
She cut Fusco off. "No. I'm done talking about this. I'll see you on Monday."
Sliding out of the booth, she pushed her way through the crowd to the woman at the bar. If drinking alone didn't get Root out of her head, then she'd push her out. The woman smiled flirtatiously at Shaw when she approached.
"Hello," the woman said in an accented voice. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming over."
Shaw grinned. "You know, you have a beautiful accent and I have an ear for it, but I can't place it. Where are you from originally?"
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
THREE WEEKS AFTER
Root tossed another spool of wire into a cardboard box. Her headache had faded somewhat in the past week and she'd decided it might finally be time to clean her apartment. So far, that meant filling two trash bags with assorted scrap and drinking an entire bottle of wine. She'd say it was going well.
For the first time in who knew how long, she could see the shiny cherry wood of her dining table. It was only in small patches, the rest still covered with abandoned projects, but she'd count it as a victory. Taking a sip from the glass of wine in her hand, she sifted through the mess with her free hand, looking for more spools.
She was well on her way to very drunk, but she figured she should keep pretending to work. It was a Sunday night, but that didn't mean she had to be sober. In fact, she hadn't been sober for most of the weekend. Picking out another spool, she dropped it with a small cheer into the box.
"Maybe I'll sleep on my table tonight," she said thoughtfully before drinking. "A little change of scenery."
Noise from the television made her turn her head and she watched as Mr. Disney gave a tour of Disneyland. Root finished her glass, tilting her head back and moved to the couch, sitting delicately. She reached forward to put her glass on the coffee table and then settled back into the cushions.
The park looked like fun, and from what Root had read in the newspapers, it was amazing. She'd never been to California and now she wasn't dating anyone who would take her. Maybe she'd go by herself. Maybe she'd buy a car, drive along Route 66, and go to Disneyland. She'd have her mob money and there wasn't anything keeping her in New York.
The thought made her giggle and she dropped sideways onto the couch. The tv screen swam in front of her blurry vision. Rolling onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling, one arm hanging off the side of the couch and the other thrown over her head.
She had nothing. Well. Nobody. Root still had her fancy job and her nice apartment and her new, fashionable clothes, but she didn't have any friends or anyone that cared about her. What was keeping her in the city? Other than the deal with Elias.
Nothing and nobody. With a small smile, Root sat up carefully. It was kind of nice to be free of attachments. There was no one to dress for, perform for, take care of, but herself and that meant she could do whatever she wanted to.
With that thought in mind, she glared at her dining table. She didn't want to clean it. So, she wouldn't. Laughing, she climbed off the couch and started for her bedroom. The alcohol was making her body buzz pleasantly and she lifted her pajama shirt to run her nails over the soft skin of her stomach. She hummed softly as she walked into her room.
One good thing about her time with Sameen, one of many, was the memories of sex. They fueled Root's fantasies and helped her loneliness. She spent most of her nights in bed, remembering their time together and the way Sameen's touch made her tremble and shake. Root finally had pleasant memories to think of when she was alone.
Stopping beside her bed, her fuzzy brain tried to remember if that was why she'd gone into her room. No. She looked over her shoulder at her closet. She was going to pack for Disneyland. She couldn't leave until her project was done, but that didn't mean she couldn't pack now. She needed the suitcase from her closet.
Hurrying across the room, she flung open the doors and froze. Like a dark bruise on pale skin, Sameen's suit hung between Root's light-colored dresses. With shaking hands, Root took the hanger down and held the suit up in front of her.
Sameen had only worn it once, the day she got it, but Root had the image burned into her brain forever. Even through her drunkenness, she could remember the ease with which Sameen moved in it, and the way her brown skin had glowed against the crisp white collar. She remembered how Sameen had been such a gentleman when they'd gone back to the hotel, and how it had been one of the best nights of her life.
Suddenly, she realized that she was angry. Sameen had blown through her life like a whirlwind, uprooting everything, and then disappeared just as quickly, taking all the good with her. Root was irreversibly changed by the experience, but Sameen got to just move on with her life as if none of it had ever happened. She was probably in another state now, seducing another unsuspecting woman.
Sameen would have no reason to stay in New York City now, either. She'd been the one desperate to leave after all. Root had just offered to go with her. It wouldn't surprise her to find out that Sameen had just strapped her bag to the back of her stupid motorcylce and hit the road. Root threw the suit across the room. It landed on the back of a couch and slid to the floor.
Just because Sameen wasn't bringing her places anymore didn't mean that Root had to stay home. The Black Cherry was as much for her as it was for Sameen. She wouldn't be kept out because she was single now. In fact, Root would probably be welcomed with cheers. Hadn't three women tried to pick her up the first night she'd gone?
Root was desirable and she was finally in a place to let herself be desired. She didn't have Sameen there to scare potential suitors away. Ready to go out, Root spun around and stumbled, her balance gone after so much wine.
Steadying herself, she sighed. It might not be best to go out in this condition. With newfound determination, Root decided to go to the bar on Friday night, when it was always packed. She would dance with whoever she wanted and she might even go home with someone. It would be a new experience for her, but she was the kind of woman who thrived on new experiences.
Grinning, she walked unsteadily to bed and climbed in. She was looking forward to the next week for the first time in a while. Maybe she'd even invite Claire along. The girl needed some new experiences, too. Root didn't want her to end up lost, too.
00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
ONE MONTH AFTER
"Jesus Christ," Shaw muttered, eyeing the Friday night crowd with annoyance. "Is it just me or are there twice as many people as normal?"
Fusco laughed from across the booth. "I think it's just you. You're getting grumpy in your old age."
She glared at him. "Watch your mouth, grandpa. I could take you down."
"I'd like to see you try!"
They threw mock-punches at each other across the table as Carter appeared beside them and slid into the booth beside Shaw.
"What's this?" she asked, grinning. "I'm late once and you two turn into children."
Lunging across the table, Shaw smacked the side of Fusco's head with a loud laugh. Dropping into her seat, she turned to smirk at Carter and threw her arm around her shoulders.
"This old man tried to call me old," she explained. Sticking her tongue out at Fusco, she watched gleefully as he rubbed his head. "He can't even dodge a smack."
He glowered at her. "You should respect your elders. Carter, tell her to respect her elders."
"I'm not getting involved in this," she said, holding her hands up. "Besides, I don't respect you either."
She laughed with Shaw as Fusco just threw his hands up. The past couple of weeks had been good for Shaw. She'd been to the bar almost every night, drinking and picking up women, and it was definitely making her feel better. Not that she'd ever been upset about Root.
Taking her arm back from Carter, she picked her drink up and tossed her head back, finishing it off. She had found that drinking helped keep her mind off Root. Of course, it only worked to a certain extent. When she got too drunk, the only thoughts she could form were about the woman. Shaw put her glass down and figured she could handle at least two more drinks.
"So," Carter started, leaning toward Fusco, "Peter has a new girl."
"Gross," Shaw chuckled, dramatically shaking her shoulders. "Who'd he con into dating him?"
"I don't know! We haven't met her yet."
Fusco's face scrunched sceptically. "I bet he made her up. No broad is gonna fall for that idiot."
Tapping on Carter's shoulder, Shaw nodded to the end of the booth. "Let me out. I need another drink if we're going to talk about Collier."
Carter grinned and slid out of the booth. She moved into the other side beside Fusco as Shaw climbed out. Looking the crowd over, Shaw took a deep breath before pushing her way to the bar.
She was sure that there were more people than usual, but maybe it had just been light the past few weeks. She hadn't exactly been counting patrons. As she shoved her way forward, she looked around for any potential lovers. Her thing with Kelli had lasted the whole weekend, but Shaw had put a new three night limit on her company.
When she finally breached the other side of the crowd, the bar was blocked by a tall brunette. Shaw looked her over, taking in the way her jeans hugged long legs before tucking into sturdy new boots. Her hair hung past her shoulders in soft curls. Ignoring how much she looked like someone else, Shaw tapped her on the shoulder.
When she looked over her shoulder, Shaw froze. It was Root. She seemed just as surprised to see Shaw there, but she managed a small smile. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she turned around.
"Hi," she said, crossing her arms. "I didn't expect to see you here. I… thought you left the city."
Shaw shoved her hands into her pockets, shifting awkwardly. "No. I didn't."
She didn't know what to say. Her brain was screaming at her to apologize or start yelling or just kiss her, but Shaw restrained herself. Root looked amazing, somehow even more beautiful than Shaw remembered. She was wearing less make-up and her hair wasn't pinned up at all. Her blouse and jeans fit her naturally, like she'd been dressing like this for years. It took all of Shaw's strength not to grab her.
Root was looking at her thoughtfully, clearly still sober. It seemed like an unfair advantage. Shaw nodded to the bar.
"I want a drink."
Raising an eyebrow, Root moved over, leaning on the bar. "Sure you haven't had enough?"
Shaw glanced at her, annoyed, and flagged down Harper. From across the bar, Harper nodded at her, turning back to the person she was talking to. It was so busy that it would take a minute to get her drink. Shaw considered just going back to the booth, or just going home.
"How have you been?" Root asked casually, still looking at her with intense eyes. "How's the promotion?"
Shaw shrugged, deciding that looking away was her best option. "It's fine. Radios are radios. Nothing as exciting as what you're doing."
Root just nodded and looked away, too. They watched Harper tear herself away from the woman she was talking to and start mixing a drink. Shaw wondered if Root was still drinking Bud or if she'd gone back to wine. It didn't matter to her either way.
Glancing at Root's hand, Shaw noticed two fingers taped together. "How's the project?" Shaw asked, pointing at the injury. Catching herself, she held her hand up. "Actually, don't tell me."
"It's going really well," Root answered despite Shaw's comment. She held up her hand so Shaw could see it better. "I had an...accident. It's not as bad as it looks. I think we'll be done in a couple of weeks."
Shaw's hands clenched into fists. Had the mob broken her fingers because she wasn't working fast enough? Was Root getting hurt because of the deal? If Shaw had been there- She cut herself off before she could head down that road. This was exactly why she'd distanced herself.
She realized that Root had said the project would be done soon. If Root wasn't working with the mob anymore, then what reason did Shaw have to stay away? If she decided to take on another project with them, what did that mean? Was she officially a part of the criminal underground? Would Shaw still need to worry? Not that she was worrying about Root.
"Whatever," she finally mumbled as Harper approached them. "Have fun."
"Root!" another voice called. A vaguely familiar woman appeared at Root's side, clinging to her arm. "This place is so fun! You were right! A much better idea than going out to dinner."
Shaw stared at her for a moment, trying to place her. The woman looked at her and scowled.
"What are you doing here? Haven't you done enough?"
Root picked up two glasses of something dark and handed one to the woman. "Be nice, Claire."
"Claire?" Shaw repeated, the pieces clicking into place. "From Chicago?"
"Yeah," Claire said, lifting her chin. "You got a problem with that?"
A Bud landed on the bar beside her and Shaw took it, looking up at Root. "Wow," she said scornfully. "Can't stand to be alone for a minute, huh? Good luck making this one work."
Shaw practically threw herself into the crowd to get away from Root and Claire. Her stomach was rolling unpleasantly and she needed to sit down before she threw up. Getting to her booth, she dropped heavily into her seat and slammed the can of Bud onto the table.
Carter raised her eyebrows. "Uh, what happened?"
"Root has a new girlfriend," Shaw spat, crossing her arms. "I should have known it wouldn't take her long to find someone else. She couldn't even break up with Reese before getting with me."
Exchanging a glance with Fusco, Carter adjusted herself in the seat, licking her lips. "Root has a new girlfriend?"
"I don't know if they're pinned or anything," Shaw clarified, "but she's with someone. She met her in Chicago the same weekend we went." Laughing humorlessly, Shaw rolled her eyes. "Of course she was already evaluating her other options."
"Hold on a second," Fusco said, stopping that train of thought. "How do you know this? Did someone tell you?"
"She's here." Shaw gestured vaguely to the crowd. "She came to my spot with her new girl. The fucking nerve."
Carter sighed. "Well, couldn't this new girl just be a friend? How do you know they were going steady?"
Shaw threw her hands up. "It doesn't matter! She's over me! Apparently, I meant so fucking little to her that she can just-" Closing her eyes, Shaw shook her head. "I don't care. She can do what she wants. If I'm not what she wants, then whatever."
"Shaw, did you ask her?" Carter tried. "You should talk to her."
"I don't want to," Shaw said, sounding childish even to herself. "I'm tired of thinking about her."
Fusco cleared his throat. "If you're still thinking about her all this time, then maybe that means something."
"Yeah. It means I need to leave this fucking city."