The bike ride through New York had been fun enough, but Shaw had really enjoyed walking into the airfield, showing her papers and stealing a plane in broad daylight. She wouldn't have minded getting into another fight today, but she'd already hit someone, and that could tide her over until they reached Alaska.
8 hours of airtime, though. The fast food they'd picked up on the way to the airport hadn't been filling, and Root was regretting the gallon of coffee she'd drunk, even if it would keep her awake for the duration of the flight. Her bladder was beginning to let her know that it disagreed with her decisions.
Root was sitting co-pilot, watching Shaw with admiration.
"You ever flown a jet?" Shaw asked.
"No," Root said. "But you make it look pretty easy."
"Yeah it is, when you have autopilot, but you stole us a jet without one so you're going to need to take the rudder so I can hit the head."
Root eyed Shaw for a moment.
"Okay," Root said, assuredly. "I have at least one good teacher with me."
The sky was clear, the instruments were stable, so Shaw passed control over to Root, standing and stretching for the first time in hours.
"Wait, I meant you, not The Machine," Root said, panicked as she grasped the controls. "What do I do?"
They hit a pocket of turbulence, and Shaw coaxed Root into stabilising the craft. "Good, now keep her level," Shaw said, letting go of the rudder. They hit a pocket of air and the plane juttered to the right, then started dropping. "Don't overcorrect," Shaw said, gentler than Root had thought she could be, her hand resting over Root's on the rudder. Shaw pulled back a bit. "Never over do it, you can always turn more, but you can't turn less."
Root nodded, understanding, and her white-knuckled grip slackened. Shaw took her hand off the rudder and moved her hand to Root's shoulder, letting Root level out the plane. "Eyes on the horizon," Shaw said. "Keep your bearing." Root breathed out steadily, following all of Shaw's minute corrections.
"Good girl," Shaw said softly, once they'd levelled off, and Shaw felt Root freeze, then felt all the breath leave Root's body.
"I wasn't talking to you," Shaw added, patting the dash. She went to the pilot's head, smirking.
Root had been happy to hand the plane back to Shaw, but she was also more confident when Shaw asked her to take over the next time.
They took down the criminals Root was after. Something to do with a militia, but Shaw wasn't sure yet how it fitted in with the other work they'd been doing recently. It made sense that The Machine was giving Root the relevant numbers, given their relationship. And Shaw got to shoot a lot of people, which she enjoyed, so the trip wasn't a total bust.
"We're going to have to stay overnight, then we're off to Miami. Flight schedule won't let us take off until the morning, and you could use the sleep."
'We staying in the plane?" Shaw asked as Root carefully stole a car. Shaw slid into the passenger seat.
"No, we have a suite." Shaw glared at Root, who laughed. "Relax, sweetie. It's winter, tourist season. It's the only way we could stay at the same hotel." Shaw huffed but let Root take her to the local shops, where Root immediately bought them matching Anchorage sweaters. Miami was a 10 hour flight at least, but Root was coming along with the flying lessons. Shaw also got herself a mix of summer and winter clothes because with Root, you had to be ready for anything. At least the plane cabin was climate controlled, but Alaska was colder than New York and Shaw was beginning to feel it in her bones.
Root opened the hotel room, and Shaw sighed in relief at the amount of space between the two queen beds. Root put their dinner on the table, then threw her shopping on the bed. Shaw opened the curtain as Shaw turned on the airconditioning to warm the room, leaving her gloves and jacket on.
"It's crazy how it's just... dark, all the time. It's not even night yet."
"Technically it is night," Root said. "But I know what you mean."
Shaw rolled her eyes and dug into her beef noodles, watching as Root reluctantly took off her gloves and started eating her sesame chicken.
"This is nice," Root said after a while. "Just... relaxing after a nice day's work."
Shaw looked around. It was disgustingly domestic, eating dinner together, taking flights together, stealing multiple vehicles and militia money together, staying in a hotel suite together... with Reese it would have just been the job, but with Root there was always... Shaw remembered the last kiss Root had given her, the way her blood pumped through her veins as they had returned fire in a whirling vortex of death. Shaw looked out the window.
Shaw put down her fork and walked over to the window, looking out in wonder.
"That's why all the rooms are booked out," Root said, coming over to stand beside Shaw. to look out the window at the dancing green and pink lights against the clear sky, stars dotted across like patches in worn jeans; "I feel fortunate for having seen them," Root said finally. "Like maybe... maybe there's more to life than just fixing bad code." Shaw looked at Root's face, tilted upwards in wonder, and she felt a jolt in her stomach, tingling in her palms. Root understood how the Northern Lights made her feel, like maybe she wasn't just a killing machine, like maybe some things were just... existing in beauty without having to be observed.
"There is no plan," Root said quietly. "No order, no justice. Just... what happens."
"And what happens next," Shaw agreed, and Root turned to look at her.
"Thank you for coming with me," Root said finally.
"You sent Reese to Washington, not much else to do," Shaw said gruffly, looking back out the window. Root's hand rested on Shaw's shoulder a moment before Root went back to her dinner. Shaw grabbed her takeaway carton and a chair, sat in the window for the rest of the evening. Root looked over from her laptop now and then but left Shaw to her own wonderings. Root eventually took a shower and turned in for the night. Once the lights were off Shaw still remained at the window for a while longer before kicking off her jeans and jacket, shivering a little.
"It'd be warmer if you closed the curtain," Root complained.
"No," Shaw got into the bed still facing the window.
"Then I'm coming over."
"Bring your blankets," Shaw said mildly, and Root was surprised but pleased. She threw the covers over Shaw and slid in behind her, body warmer than Shaw's as she curled around her.
Shaw fumed. She'd never been a spoon in her life, let alone the little spoon. The closest she'd been to cutlery was a knife. But the ultimatum had been to close the curtain to seal in the warmth or share bedding, and some part of Shaw knew that this was inevitable. And outside the window the night sky still danced, and Shaw watched until her eyes were too heavy to keep open, reveling in the warmth of the body partially draped over her.
Shaw woke up alone, finally warm. The sky was dull outside the windows, and Shaw didn't regret a moment of the hours she'd spent feasting on the view. Root came out of the bathroom, and Shaw yawned and stretched, got out of bed and into the shower. When she came out in a singlet and underwear there was a couple of plates of food on the table.
"I didn't know what you liked," Root said, chewing on a pancake. "We've never exactly done the breakfast thing."
Shaw speared a number of of the plates with her fork, then started pulling on her pants. "When are we cleared to fly?"
"About an hour," Root said, watching Shaw with interest as she dressed. "But we should get there half an hour early and do the pre-flight checks. We're already checked out, so once you're done eating we need to get going."
Shaw chewed, eyeing Root in her Anchorage sweater. "You're going to be cold," Shaw said around a mouthful of waffles. Root finished her toast and pulled on her coat and overcoat, eyeing Shaw. "I'm not wearing a matching sweater, Root." Shaw said, "Even under my coat."
"Our cover for the airfield thinks we're a millionaire eccentric couple. It'd go a long way to convincing them."
Shaw fumed inside her jacket, opened enough to reveal the matching sweater. She checked over the engines the wheels, and the airfield manager came out to speak with them.
"Quite unusual, to see two ladies with a plane this size," he commented, and Shaw grimaced. Surely they could just shoot him and fly away? But Root smiled politely.
"We don't like stopping once we're on our way," Root said, ignoring Shaw rolling her eyes at her behind the manager. Shaw checked the tail movement, then the wing flaps.
"Here to see the lights, hmm?" The manager asked, checking their itinerary.
"Last night was certainly a show," Root replied, winking over at Shaw, who rolled her eyes and climbed into the cabin, checking the instruments. When she came back out the manager was signing off the clearance.
"Runway 3, 15 minutes. Refueled?" The manager asked Shaw, who shook her head. "Pull her around over there. Comes with the overnight docking. Hope you have a nice flight," the manager said, still seemingly bemused. He walked away and looked back.
"I'll refuel, meet me at runway 3," Shaw said.
"See you in a few," Root said, eyeing where the manager was watching them. She slipped her hand behind Shaw's neck and tilted her head up, pressed her lips against Shaw's for a moment, then pulled back with a quirked eyebrow. She leaned in again and Shaw let Root kiss her, slipped her hands inside the warmth of Root's coat for a moment before pulling away and climbing into the plane.
Notes:
So this is in place of Bobcaygeon, which is my favourite thing I've ever written so far. If anyone can recommend me a fanartist that can do a still of Root and Shaw standing under the Northern Lights I would appreciate it. Also this is very long but also not quite what I wanted it to be.
Bobcaygeon is a Tragically Hip song, and the first time I was able to go to Canada to see them was also the last. I drove 8000km - half of them in their wake - and ended up in Bobcaygen, which, after 4000km of small towns, was nothing special other than the connection. The idea of nationalism is always weird, but they managed it without glossing over the terrible parts too much.
This one is called Emperor Penguin after another one of their songs, and also because midweek, after communing with a crow, I became struck with the idea that I could go to Antarctica and push over an Emperor Penguin. I looked up boats and submarines and small aircraft and commercial aircraft and I have had to admit that I cannot get there under my own steam, and also interfering with the wildlife is heavily frowned upon. Instead I will be going to a penguin island much closer, but I will not be pushing over any penguins there as this species is small and I would feel like a bully. I feel like I have even odds with an Emperor Penguin, and if not, that is the way I want to go out.
This is also how I know they had to steal a supermid to get to Alaska in a single flight. In Bobcaygeon they do stopovers to get Timmies - but I am getting ahead of myself. Honestly, stealing a jet to fly to Alaska is a pretty inconvenient way to go about things, especially since Samaritan wasn't online yet. They could have flown first class, slept on the way and been well-rested and ready to kick butt when they got to Alaska. I also looked up hotels in Anchorage and more than ever I miss my nomadic Northern hemisphere life; the hotels that always advertise water slides. But no balconies, which ruined the balcony scene. I assume it's because of the snow and for weather proofing etc.
Anyway. The aurora is the most mesmerising experience.
As for 4af: it will get updated once I clear my cache a little. I need inspiration sparks and they're focused here at the moment. I'm stuck in the Northern Lights with galaxy hair. This may get edited before the next chapter.