Shaw looked over at Root, saw concern on her face.

Shaw had felt irritated by Root's possessiveness, the way Root filled Shaw's personal space but when Shaw looked at Root's face it was flooded with distress and concern.

And Shaw thought about how Root had let Shaw know each time they were together that she was safe, that she was... liked. Cared for. And Shaw had greywalled her each time, allowing the contact but not giving anything, outside of the firefight. And Shaw lunged forward, rolling her eyes because suddenly she knew how to incapacitate Root, how to distract her so Shaw could get to the override, and Shaw grabbed Root's lapel and hauled her in, kissing her bruisingly before throwing her back into the elevator.

Shaw saw Samaritan come for her, but she also saw her team riding upwards to safety with the taste of Root on her lips. Die for something you love, she thought fleetingly, her last thought for a long time.

After the stock exchange, Root went through Shaw's apartment as soon as she felt it was safe. Samaritan had been through the place a few times, from her monitoring.

The place was trashed, but Root had assistance. It took a few minutes to find where a second layer of drywall had been installed. She peeled it away from the wall and pulled out a handful of personal documents, a passport, SSI, some cash, some guns

Root ran her hands over the guns wistfully, then looked back at the wall. She shone a torch in the gap and picked up a glint of metal.

A key.

Root rescued a jacket that had escaped the searches and left, holding the jacket to her face to inhale what was left of Shaw.

It took another few days to find the locker Shaw had used.

Inside the locker, which was under a name Root didn't recognise, was a few piles of things. Root pulled her backpack off her shoulder, started loading it up.

There was a small t-shirt with the oilers logo on it. It was worn and thin, it had clearly been washed but there was a stain on it.

There was a medical ID.

There was a medal - Russian, and a small pile of letters to a PO address, and a key for a PO Box. Root rifled through them; she'd seen one of Harry's old trust funds paying fees for the private school of the return address since they went underground. The letters looked like the sender was replying frequently. Root opened an envelope, eyed a formula, made a mental note to keep an eye on the kid, go check the mailbox next and let her know the situation. Hell, there were so many references to Bear, maybe Root would take the drive with the dog that clearly missed Shaw.

There were a couple of other personal effects, a couple of other passports. A birthday card from her parents. The bundle was pathetically small for an entire life.

As Root filled the backpack, she uncovered a sweater from Anchorage, one she also had. She lifted it to her face; it had been laundered before it had been stored, unfortunately. It didn't have that exquisite scent of gunpowder and cinnamon Root had been longing for.

There was a crinkle from a pocket, and Root pulled out a headshot of herself - or someone who looked like Root, someone who looked more like... Caroline Turing. The edges of the photo were worn and feathered, like it had been referenced often.

Root hadn't known how sentimental Shaw was, but the fact that Shaw had kept these - had thought to keep them safe here with memories of her family - Root was touched.

Root did go to the school, met the kid who could entice Shaw to write letters. Signed her out for lunch and a walk in the park.

The kid was bright - brighter than Root had assumed, and she could see why Shaw had been writing to her for years. Bear was apoplexic with joy at the sight of her, and Gen had been equally delighted.

"We don't know where she is, but..." Root said as she watched Gen finish her soda.

"But it doesn't look hopeful," Gen finished. The kid had seen some stuff. She was practical, like Shaw, Root thought. Then Gen's face crumpled and she slid to the ground, hiding her face in Bear's neck. Root let her hand rest on Gen's shoulder, feeling tears close in her own eyes too.

"She liked you," Gen said as Root dropped her back at the school. "She showed me your picture once. She didn't say much. She never does. But you can tell, with Shaw, if she likes someone." Gen pet Bear one more time before getting out of the car. "She liked you," Gen said as she closed the door.

Root fingered the headshot in her pocket.

The word of a teen and the little evidence she had still wasn't enough for her to be sure. With Shaw, Root couldn't tell. By the end, Shaw tolerated her. But liked? Root ran her finger over the tattered edge of the photo.

From then on. Root sent an email from an untraceable address every few weeks, each of them with pictures of Bear and an unsolvable puzzle.

Each one returned to her, solved.

Author's Note:

I ran out of chapters help