WARNING - There is self-harm in this chapter, but it's part of a ritual. I can tell you that no one dies and the damage is pretty impermanent. I don't think it's that bad, but here's a warning just in case. I can't really tell you to skip it because it's important.

Chapter Text

Shaw stared up at the high ceilings inside the University of Oslo as they passed through towering columns. It almost felt familiar, but she knew her parents had never brought her here before. She adjusted her backpack's straps, slowing down as she looked around.

Despite being exhausted, Shaw tried to take in the architecture. They'd boarded a flight by 3pm, and landed in Norway at 10am. She wasn't quite sure what day it was, but Root seemed to have a plan all worked out. Shaw was pretty sure her presence was unnecessary, but Root had wanted her to come and that was enough. At least the fact that it was daytime made her wearing sunglasses less weird.

After the book had thrown her backwards, her eyes had turned black. Unlike before, they were not going back to normal this time. So, she'd worn sunglasses through the airport, avoiding TSA's eyes as they went through security, and put them back on to board the plane. She wondered if the guy they were seeing would ask her to take them off.

She felt a tug at her arm and rolled her eyes. "I'm coming, jeez. I just wanted to look around first. It's not every day you go to Norway."

"This is not the time," Root scolded. "We have big things to attend to."

"Yeah, yeah, blood magic, parental conspiracy," Shaw muttered, following Root as they started down a hallway. "Can one of our big things be coffee?"

"Maybe Professor Claypool will have a Keurig," was the sarcastic response.

They turned into a stairwell, Root hurriedly climbing and Shaw trailing behind. The only thing Root had told her about Professor Claypool was that he was a religious scholar and that he had been involved in the operation. He'd moved to Norway a few years after Root and Shaw had been separated. Shaw wondered if he was on their parents' side or Greer's.

They stepped out into another hallway and Shaw smiled. Root had scheduled a meeting with him before they boarded the plane. Root's side of the conversation had been interesting to say the least. She was pretending to be some PhD candidate, interested in ancient texts, and asked to interview him. Apparently that was rare enough that he'd agreed to meet them on the spot.

Shaw glanced at Root and saw her vibrating with energy. Root looked determined and ready to attack their book conundrum. Shaw did not feel as confident. Even if he'd known their parents, that didn't mean Claypool was going to talk to them. How had Root even found him? What if he looked at two teenagers, talking about magic, and called the police?

Shaw sighed and slowed to a stop behind Root. She had so many questions and very few answers. She watched Root knock on the professor's door. It opened to reveal a short, plump man. His eyes widened, and he glanced between them, mouth opening and closing.

"Uh," he stuttered. "Come in. Come in! Please!" He stepped aside to let them pass, still gaping.

Shaw peered around the office, trying to be inconspicuous. There were books everywhere. They were stuffed onto shelves, stacked on the floor, some even rested on the very old, very expensive looking statues placed around the room. Shaw was impressed. When she had thought about what kind of professor would hold the key to their book, his office had looked just like this.

Root clutched the book to her chest and smiled at the professor. "Professor Claypool?"

"Yes, yes!" He gestured for them to sit down and moved behind his desk. "I understand the secrecy now!" He smiled at Root. "Can I say, you look just like your mother?"

Root's eyes fluttered, but she grinned as she sat down. "That's very kind of you, sir."

"Oh, please, call me Arthur."

"Ok, um, Arthur." Root's eyebrows furrowed. "Thank you for seeing us."

He waved his hand. "You could have told me who you were! I would have paid for your tickets. Wow. It's been a long time since I've seen you girls. You're so grown up."

He grinned at Shaw and she smiled tightly. Just what she needed, another adult who knew more about her than she did. He gestured to his eyes, swiping his hand in front of them.

"Sunglasses? You can take those off. I'm guessing you had a run in with Samaritan!"

Shaw scowled, but she took her sunglasses off. He looked a little bit nervous as she blinked at him, and that made her feel a little bit better. She leaned back in the uncomfortable wooden chair, hooking the sunglasses over her t-shirt. Crossing her arms, she glared at him.

"Well," he said, trying to stay positive, "I'm surprised your parents aren't here, too! And the Fuscos, of course. I suppose the Finches and Reeses, too. I'd love to get the whole gang back together. Who am I missing?" He tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Alicia, Nathan, John… That might be everyone."

Root glanced at Shaw, her eyebrows raised. This confirmed their theory that the project had involved all of their parents, and that Shaw, and Lionel, had been brought back to the town for a reason. At least they knew now that Claypool hadn't been the one to hurt their parents. Root stuck a sweet smile on and turned back to Claypool.

"Our parents sent us," she lied. "They're busy with other projects right now, and Shaw's had her powers activated, so they sent us to talk to you and learn a little more for ourselves."

He laughed. "That sounds like the Groves! Always busy. Always moving."

"Yes," Root said through gritted teeth. "My parents do travel a lot."

"You know," he said, leaning forward on the desk, "they always thought it safer to leave you behind." He looked at Shaw. "Your parents thought it was safer to bring you along! I guess you're both here now, so they were both right." He laughed again. "So, what can I tell you about the magic?"

Shaw spoke before Root could. "We were hoping you could tell us about how we got the powers, and how they're activated. I've been having… episodes for a few months now, but it wasn't until my blood touched the book that my eyes stayed black."

He finally noticed the book in Root's hands, his face paleing. "Oh. You brought it. I don't know that I'd be brave enough to fly with that."

"What do you mean?" Root asked.

"What if you'd gotten cut? I'm sure something powerful happened when Sameen touched the book with her blood. Imagine that in an airplane!"

Shaw winced. They'd been looking at the book the whole flight. Root couldn't look at it at all, still, and other than the maps, Shaw was having a hard time deciphering the language. She could read the words, but they weren't English. She thought they might be Latin, or something similarly old.

"That's a good point," Shaw muttered. "Can you please tell us how we got the powers? Were we born this way?"

"Oh, no," he sighed, shaking his head. "You were born for it, but you weren't born with it, no. You see, John - that's John Greer - learned of a magic that was fueled by emotions, and granted the holder infinite power and long life. He wanted it, but he wasn't willing to risk his own life for the experiments, so he recruited a team. They learned all they could about the book, tracing its origins back to Samaria, and figured out a ritual that would allow the magic to enter into a human."

"So, our parents did that to us?" Root hummed to herself. "It worked."

"Not the first time, not really." He pointed to Shaw. "You were born first for the project, and they tried to put the magic in you, but it didn't stick as much as they wanted it to. Of course, later we'd learn about your… muted… personality." He smiled at her kindly. "You were an intelligent child, but not very emotional."

"Not much has changed," Shaw joked flatly.

She felt her stomach turn and looked at Root. The hair on her arm was standing up and the air around her shimmered. Claypool didn't seem to notice, his smile never wavering. Shaw licked her lips, uncrossing her arms in case she needed to hold Root back.

"I was their second try," Root said quietly. "Second choice. The back-up child."

Claypool nodded. "Exactly! It worked with you, but it burned the whole church down." He glanced around the empty room nervously, leaning forward. "That's when your parents took you from Greer. He was planning on draining your blood to finish the ritual and give himself the power. Well, your parents weren't going to let that happen!"

"What happened four years later?" Shaw asked. "They separated us."

"No," Root bit out. "You said he had to 'finish the ritual'. The power we have is only part of it? There's more?"

Claypool sighed, scratching his head. "The way to think of it is… The magic has a life of its own, and in order to get that life, you have to give a life. I suppose you could drain your own blood and finish it that way, but there's no ensuring you'd end up with the full power. You could just die, and the power gets released into the world."

Shaw leaned forward. "What would happen if it did?"

"Who knows!" Claypool laughed. "It's never been done!" He grinned at them excitedly. "I'd love to know, but it's not really worth the risk, is it? Greer's theory was that by sacrificing you, and using your blood for the ritual, that the magic would take on a life of its own - become something that could be controlled and directed, but we can't even read the book, so there's no real way of knowing. Other than doing it, I suppose." He frowned, looking between them. "You're not going to try it are you?"

"Of course not," Root answered. She rested the book in her lap, still smiling sweetly. If Shaw didn't know that she was burning up from the inside, she would Root was just a nice, normal girl. "I have one last question, if it's alright?"

"Go ahead!"

"Why did our parents change their minds? If we were born to be killed by Greer, then why take us away?"

Claypool frowned at her, his eyes darting between them. "I think that's a question for your parents…"

Root laughed lightly, the sound too relaxed. "You know my parents; they're not really forthcoming with details. I just wanted to know what you thought."

"Well…" He sat back in his chair, scratching his head as he thought. "I suppose… They probably didn't expect to love you. When we started researching, it was all hypotheticals. The Fuscos had a religious, but academic, interest. The Reeses were interested in it from a strategic, military perspective. The Finches, for powering infrastructures and cities, towns, things like that. I was more interested in the history of it. Sameen, your mother had an incredible knowledge of medicine. She wanted to know what that kind of power could do to a person's body."

He hesitated, looking at Root with pity. Shaw wanted to knock that look from his face. She could feel Root bristle beside her, the energy coming off her growing. Shaw shifted in her chair again to face Root, noticing the way her eyes started to lose their white. She wasn't sure what to do.

"Tell me," Root breathed. "Why did my parents have me?"

He swallowed. "They were the first people Greer hired. I think they were supposed to be his 'muscle,' but they mostly just kept an eye on everyone else. Reporting to Greer, keeping notes, that sort of thing. They volunteered to have the child, but they had trouble getting pregnant. The Shaws got pregnant by accident, and Greer didn't want to wait any longer."

"'Trouble getting pregnant'," Root repeated. "They hated each other? Didn't they?"

"They loved you so much," he said, avoiding the question. "They kept you from Greer because they couldn't bear to let anything happen to you. I don't think they even really believed in the magic, and almost nothing had happened to Sameen. They thought it would be the same. When the first ritual worked, and we knew you'd have power, they were scared, and they took you away from Greer."

Shaw finally spoke. "Why bring Root back to Connecticut all those years later, then?"

"I don't know." He shrugged. "Maybe they talked to Greer again? Made a deal?"

"Thank you," Root said abruptly, standing. She clutched the book to her chest. "We have to go."

"Oh." Claypool stood up, too, hurrying around his desk. "Well, it was really tremendous to see you both again. Say hello to your parents for me, and don't worry too much about John. If he hasn't done anything by now, then I doubt he's ever going to."

Shaw clenched her jaw, knowing that Greer had probably killed both of their parents, and Lionel's. "Thanks."

She stood, and followed Root out of the office into the hallway. Root was practically vibrating with energy, her eyes red and empty. They made it halfway down the corridor before Root stopped walking and slammed the book down to the floor. The bang echoed against marble walls.

"Second choice," Root whispered to herself. "Second best. I couldn't even be born right. I can't make anyone stay. I can't even read the book. I'm just nothing."

"Root," Shaw interrupted, moving to stand in front of her. She ignored the book on the floor between them. "You're not nothing. You're not second best. You're my first choice. My only choice. You're so good with computers, and you're alive! So many things could have killed you, and you survived! That's something. You're not nothing."

Root's eyes flashed at her, and she scowled. "I don't need your pity." She shook her head. "It doesn't matter anyway. I'm going to make myself so powerful, that it won't matter if no one loves me. I'm going to kill Greer, and then I'm going to rule the world."

She snatched the book off the ground, and pushed past Shaw, stomping off down the corridor. Shaw took a deep breath and followed after her. Root was heading down a dangerous road, and Shaw was going to do whatever it took to protect her. She was going to prove to Root that she was loved, and that she wasn't alone.

However long it took to break through the doubt and anger in her mind, that's how long Shaw would stay with her.

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Shaw stood in their motel room, watching Root set up. She'd decided to do the second part of the ritual, and Shaw was trying to figure out a way to stop her. If she knew more about what was going on, she'd have a better idea of how to do it.

She'd helped Root push the two twin beds to either side of the room. She'd hesitated, but then Root had tried on her own, and Shaw didn't want her to hurt herself. Their room was small, only six feet between the beds even now. Root definitely had enough money to rent a better room, but she'd wanted anonymity. They'd stopped at a grocery store, and then taken a taxi thirty minutes north to a tiny town. It only had one motel-type place, and that was this tiny room.

Root took a deep breath and dipped her paintbrush into a small jar of blood they'd bought at the store. The cashier had made a joke about black pudding in heavily accented English and Root had just winked at him, making him flush. On the taxi ride back, she'd muttered to herself about 'fresh vs frozen' and Shaw had almost laughed at the strange irony of buying frozen blood in a store to use in a blood magic ritual.

Their tiny room had a tiny kitchen, and Root had thawed the blood, then brought the pot to the floor. She dabbed the now-bloody brush against the edge of the pot and hesitated. She glanced at the book beside her and then up at Shaw.

"You say you're willing to help me?" she asked seriously.

Shaw nodded. "Yes."

Gesturing for Shaw to come and kneel on the floor, she gave her the brush. "Write 'Samaritan' on the floor."

"I don't-"

"It's on the book cover!" Root snapped, her nose scrunching in anger. "Don't play dumb with me. Write the word on the book on the floor."

Shaw took in Root's angry face before nodding again, sighing. The instinct that had sent her into the lake, and down to Root's basement, was stirring inside her chest as she dipped the brush back into the blood and scraped the excess of on the edge of the pot. Shaw turned the book so she could read it and started painting.

She still couldn't understand the language, but the letters were almost familiar to her, like muscle memory. The instinct inside her guided her hand, helping her write with strong strokes. She re-dipped the brush and wrote the second half of the word. When she finished, her hand dipped the brush a third time, body moving backwards to make space.

That instinct inside of her drew a dotted line, a square, around the word 'Samaritan,' like a guard. Shaw's heart pounded with each short line. She wasn't sure what was making her do this, but it just felt right. It felt like she was leaving herself a window, a way to look at Root, to watch Samaritan. She drew the last dash and looked up at Root.

Frowning, Root snatched the brush back. She grabbed the pot and stood up, moving it to the kitchen. "I didn't tell you to do that."

"My magic did," Shaw mumbled as she climbed to her feet. "It must be part of the ritual."

Putting the pot into the sink slowly, Root gave her a thoughtful look. "Oh, well… Thank you, then."

She moved to her pile of things on the bed and quickly finished setting up. A clean metal bowl went right on top of the word, within the bounds of Shaw's square. A sharp knife was set beside it. Root knelt on the floor, opening the book to the center and setting it in front of her.

Shaw took a step forward to glance at the pages. She was looking at it upside down, but she could see an arrow, a lightning bolt, and a rope with a knot in the middle. They were mirrored on the other page, all pointing to the center of the book. Shaw could get the message.

Root picked up the sharp knife by her side and Shaw lunged forward, ripping it from her hands. She stumbled backward, toward the wall. Root glared up at her.

"Shaw," Root threatened, "you said you'd help me."

"I'm not going to let you kill yourself, Root." Shaw snorted. "Jesus Christ, I mean, what is this? I believe you, about our parents and Greer and even the magic, but do you really think I'd let you bleed out?"

Root rolled her eyes. "I'd come back to life. Besides, if I do this now, then Greer can't do it later. I'll have enough power to stop him, make him pay for what he did! Don't you want to avenge your parents' deaths, Sameen?"

"Of course," Shaw answered honestly. "This is so dangerous, though. What if it doesn't work?"

Root stood smoothly, smiling the same sweet smile she'd given Claypool. The red in her eyes faded away, and Shaw looked at the brown that she had looked into so many times. She swallowed, her mouth dry. Root looked happy again, like she had at their first sleepover, and at Shaw's soccer games, at the arcade, just like she had before the lake. Shaw knew it was a trick, but her heart still raced. She schooled her face and tried to ignore the warmth that filled her.

"Sameen. It's me. I know you're scared. Well," Root's head tilted, "as scared as you can be. I'm here with you. We can go back home and finish high school."

Shaw knew this was fake, but that's what she wanted. She wanted to be with Root. She didn't know how long it would last and how much she could give, but she was willing to try. There was still so much life ahead of them, and she just wanted Root.

Root stepped toward her, crossing the room, her eyes searching Shaw's face. Shaw knew that despite her inner turmoil, her face gave nothing away. She couldn't let Root know she was considering giving in.

Root stopped in front of her, raising a hand to cup Shaw's cheek. Shaw looked up into her eyes and wondered when Root had gotten so tall. Her body reacted to Root's closeness and some of the tension left her.

"Sameen. I love you, you know I do, I just need to finish this and we can be together." Root ran her hand over Shaw's shoulder, down her arm and wrapped her hand around the tight fist Shaw had made around the knife. "We can rush through senior year, and get scholarships. I'll major in Robotics, or something, and you'll be pre-med."

Shaw let her take the knife. Root switched it to her other hand, stepping even closer to Shaw. That instinct inside of her swirled, telling her to pay attention, and Shaw dropped her eyes to Root's lips. She missed them. It had been months since they'd kissed, since they'd spent the night together.

A loud zip made her jerk backwards, pain shooting up her arm. She looked down to see that Root had ziptied her to the radiator, her hand twisted at an awkward angle. Grunting, Shaw tried to pull her wrist free, but she couldn't break the hard plastic.

Root hurried back to her spot on the floor, taking a deep breath. She lifted her wrist over the bowl, her hand trembling. In any other case, Shaw would be glad to see Root nervous, anything but angry. Right now, it just told her that Root was going to feel it. She was going to have to keep her wrist over the bowl as she died, pay attention to the feeling of losing consciousness.

"Root," Shaw tried again. "Root, please. I'll do anything you want. Don't do this."

Smiling, Root looked at her, eyes glazing red again. She lifted the knife to her wrist, the point just below her palm. "I'll see you on the other side, Sameen."

She slit her forearm, dropping the knife almost immediately as she hissed in pain. Blood rushed from her arm into the bowl, sloshing up sides. Her eyes were fixed to the cut, breathing quick and labored.

Shaw tugged frantically at the ziptie, trying to get her hand free so she could do something. There had been a part of her that thought this was some big joke, just a way for Root to make her prove that she'd follow her to Norway. Now, Root was dying in front of her and Shaw couldn't get her hand free.

Root gasped, and Shaw watched as her eyelids fluttered. "I have to put it in the book," Root said, her voice strangled in her throat. "The magic has to be inside me."

She collapsed onto her back, her wrist hitting the metal bowl and knocking it over. The blood that had gathered inside spilled out, pooling around the book. It seemed to soak in, the liquid being sucked inside unnaturally. Shaw turned away, desperately pulling on her arm. If Root died, Shaw wasn't sure what she would do with herself.

Red light spread on the wall in front of her, and Shaw glanced over her shoulder. The book was beaming, light radiating from it. From the center split, a fountain of blood appeared, the blood gathering itself in the air above the book, twisting and turning. Shaw watched as it formed into a heart, hardening and changing until a solid, shining crystal heart hung in the air.

The heart pulsed with light, and Shaw felt her own heart fall into the same rhythm. She stretched, trying to reach it with her free hand. That was Root's heart, and it belonged in her body. Her bound wrist throbbed painfully as she pulled herself toward the heart. Her outstretched hand was so close, fingers wiggling, trying to get closer, but she couldn't reach it.

She took a deep breath, calming herself down. This was the first time she could remember being panicked like this, maybe even scared of losing Root. She took another deep breath and turned to look down at her ziptie. Putting a foot on the radiator, she braced herself.

Shaw closed her eyes, trying to find that calm, quiet place inside her. For her whole life, Shaw had been calm, and collected, and empty. At most, she'd be pleased or angry. The magic inside her was making her feel out of control. Root was making her feel out of control. That wasn't her.

She took a deep breath, letting her chest expand with fresh air. She knew who she was, better than she knew anything else in the entire world. That was her power. Love and anger and fear were distant thoughts, present, but not central. She let out the air in her chest, opening her eyes.

Her body felt steady. She felt steady again. The warmth that had filled her since she'd met Root had gone, and a cool calm had replaced it. Her stomach didn't hurt, and her head didn't hurt. She felt like herself again, sure and strong. Looking down at the zip tie around her wrist, she flexed her arms and easily broke it open.

She turned, taking in the crystal heart that had floated higher. It was in front of her face now; It's glow almost pleasant. Beneath it, Root lay dead, crumbled on the floor. She looked like she was sleeping, peaceful and pale. Shaw knew she had to put the heart back into Root soon or the magic would go wild and Root would stay dead.

Taking the heart in her hands, Shaw immediately felt more pain than she'd ever felt before. It felt like her bones were shattering, and her skin turning to ash. Shaking from the effort to stay on her feet, Shaw tried to breath, but every twitch of her lungs was torture.

The light at the center of the heart beat faster now, forcing Shaw's faster, too. The skin of her hands seemed to crack like porcelain, the black of her magic shining through. It streamed from her, and she realized it wasn't black at all. It was red, so dark that it seemed inky and empty. She was shadow, where Root was light.

Carefully, Shaw knelt to the ground, dragging the heart down with her. She barely felt the book under her knees as she leaned over Root. The heart resisted as she lowered it to Root's chest. She struggled against it, pushing with the quiet she'd found inside herself. With one last, hard push, Shaw shoved the heart into Root's chest.

A blinding white light shot from where Shaw's hands pressed to Root's chest, and then Root was in the air, her head and arms thrown back, chest lifted to the ceiling. The white turned to Shaw's red-black, and then finally to Root's brilliant true red.

The gash on Root's wrist flashed bright and healed. The same porcelain cracks that had run up Shaw's arms raced from the gash over Root's whole body as bright, new blood filled her veins. Shaw watched with awe as color returned to Root's skin. Her body righted itself, her head lifting to stare down at Shaw.

Root opened her eyes, still red. Her gaze felt heavy, and dangerous, as she looked at Shaw. The room was silent, and Shaw couldn't move at all in case some sound disturbed the process. This wasn't Root that watched her. Shaw could feel another pair of eyes, looking through Root's. It called to the instinct in Shaw.

Then, Root gasped, and the light in the room disappeared. Shaw had to jump up to catch Root as she fell from the air. She landed perfectly in Shaw's arms, feeling weightless. Shaw guess that her own magic was helping her now.

Root didn't feel warm at all to her now, and Shaw wondered if that was because Root's magic had changed or if it was because she'd gotten herself under control again. Had she cut herself off from what little emotion she'd had before? She looked at Root's tired face, and knew that she still loved her, that she'd do anything to protect her.

Root smiled up at her, her hand coming to rest on Shaw's cheek. "Thank you."

"Of course." Shaw wasn't sure what to do now. "Um, how are you feeling?"

"No need for pleasantries, Sameen," Root said instead of answering. She swung her legs out of Shaw's grip and moved away from her. "Get some sleep and I'll figure out our next move."

Shaw suddenly realized how exhausted she was. They had lost so much time on the plane, and then she'd used her magic more than she ever had before. Her whole body hurt from holding the crystal heart. She walked to a bed, kicking her shoes off.

Turning and sitting, she watched as Root took her own shoes off. "What are you going to do?"

Root glanced at her, eyes somehow expressionless and suspicious. "Don't worry about it. I have a lot of power now, and I can explore the world differently. Go to sleep."

Yanking her socks off, Shaw climbed under the covers. She didn't bother taking her sweatpants off, or her shirt. They hadn't packed any clothing and if Root wanted to leave suddenly, it would be better if she was already dressed. She stifled a yawn and got comfortable.

Across the room, Root sat cross-legged on her bed, closing her eyes. Nothing visible happened, but Shaw felt the energy in the room change. She decided that as long as Root was alive, then she was ok. They'd figure the rest of it out later. At least they had a later now. Closing her eyes, Shaw fell asleep quickly.