My resolve to have nothing further to do with her or this situation is undercut when I return with her to the base of operation. The guise of night can no longer conceal us now that the sun is peeking over the skyline. We lean on the corner of the building, awaiting an opportune time to sneak back inside. Root makes her move around the corner but quickly falls back again. She shakes her head, "Employee," she says. The back door shuts and the sound echos down the alley. We make our move around the corner and keep watch as we go. She glances up at the security camera and we are given automatic access back into the building.
She takes the lead as we head back down the same corridor I'd traversed hours ago. This time, instead of avoiding large burly henchmen, we avoid pimply faced employees. We manage to get five feet before another worker pops up in the hallway. Root grabs hold of me and spins us behind a protruding pillar. Its thin frame barely provides cover, causing her to tighten the already limited space between us. I can feel the gravity of her thoughts weighing down on me as she glares into my eyes. She glances around the plastered barrier to assess the situation then returns to her position.
"Can I ask you something?" she asks; her brown eyes piercing into mine."
"Right now?" I ask.
"Why were you on that roof?" she asks with a drearily serious tone.
"Now is not the time." I try to wedge some more air between us, but she doesn't budge.
"Answer me first, then I'll move," she says.
I don't want to answer; but exerting more force could cause a commotion. From the gloom in her eyes, I surmise what she thought I was doing on that roof. "I was not going there to do that!" I say in a hushed tone. There is doubt in her eyes.
"Then I don't get it," she says, "why were you up there?"
I gaze away from the intensity of her stare, "If you don't know, then I can't tell you." She tries to make eye contact and I deliberately avoid her gaze; forcing us into a facial scrimmage. She grabs my chin to force me into her line of sight. "What do you want from me?" I ask.
"Anything you're willing to give me. Whenever you want to give it…"
"Shaw," a voice whispers from behind her. We turn toward the voice, it's Harper.
"Harold sent me to grab you guys. Let's go," she says.
Harper reaches out and grabs hold of my wrist then pulls me with her. The shift eases Root out of her stationary position. They share a brief but subtle glare of contempt, then we venture back to the others.
Harold and Lionel are waiting inside the room with Ava close at their side. She seems happy to be reunited with Root but is more excited to see Harper clinging to my wrist. "You gott'em!" the blonde exclaims as she conjoins herself to Root.
"We were a few feet down the hall. I think we would have made it without assistance," Root says,staring at Harper. I free myself from Harper's grasp when the two women glance over toward me.
"Well I wasn't too sure— you guys were in that corner for a while," Harper replies. Root scans the others in the room.
"We saw you on the monitors," Harold admits. "Ava, suggested that someone go and retrieve the two of you. Harper graciously volunteered." The room falls silent.
"How thoughtful of everyone," Root says.
"Yeah thoughtful!" Lionel interjects, "you guys wanna focus on why we're here in the first place."
"Yes, the Detective has a point," Harold adds, "Ava was looking in to the unknown threat that forced me out of hiding, and Ms. Shaw out of retirement."
"I've checked into it. There's no reason to believe this location has been compromised," Ava assures him. "Root's implant cannot be traced back to us. She didn't have access to this location until after her accident —" she says.
"You mean her death," I retort.
"—well, whatever you'd like to call it. It isn't an issue," she explains.
"Yes, but I'd be more at ease if I knew exactly who was interested in the Machine's whereabouts," Harold says.
"So…does this mean I can go?" I ask. "The Machine has the mastermind, the brains, and at least four pawns. Do you really need me here?"
All eyes focus on me, but Root takes the lead in responding, "Harry has a point Shaw. Until we figure out what the threat is and where it's coming from, we should all stay put."
"I disagree," Harper chimes in. "If Shaw wants to leave she should be able to. After all this isn't her fight."
"Maybe that's something that she should decide for herself," Root says, taking an assertive step toward my defender.
"It seems like she's already made her decision but someone just isn't listening," Harper says; taking a reciprocal step forward.
The two of them face-off in the middle of the room, sending an invisible intensity throughout the atmosphere. Harper makes a good point though her comments are based on a limited understanding. While it's true that I have no obligation to stay, and though my lips speak of desertion; leaving here would mean returning to the concrete Sahara. At least here, I can bask in her presence, instead of being elsewhere deteriorating into silent oblivion.
I pull Harper toward the door, and Root's expression gives me cause to reassure them all of my return. The door barely shuts behind us before I'm drawn into a kiss. A sense of urgency emits from her voluptuous lips onto mines. Sending a wave of warm energy through me and enrapturing my body in her embrace. She pulls away and I'm returned back to this low resolution reality. "Just in case," she says, with a mischievous grin.
"You can't do that," I tell her.
"Do what?" she asks, "kiss you?"
"Yes, or come to my defense," I reply, "you shouldn't do any of it."
"Why not?" she asks.
"Because this," I say, gesturing between us. "We are not a thing."
She turns away from me. I suppose to hide her disappointment; then sharply returns back. "You say that now, but when it's just us it's a different story," she argues.
"Or maybe, you've been reading it wrong."
She eases backward, "Or maybe it changed when she re-entered the story."
"And if it did?" I ask.
"Look I get it— she means a lot to you," she replies. "I know because we spent many nights exchanging stories. But while I was there with you— she was here. Shacked up with some ditzy blonde and a laptop."
"I'd be careful with the next words you choose," I say, sternly.
"It's just not right—and I can't bear watching you passively accept this from her."
"And what reaction would be more suitable in your opinion?" I ask.
"Leave," she states sincerely, "you can just go."
"I won't do that."
"Why?!" she shouts in calm frustration.
"Why do you care?" I ponder aloud.
"I don't know —" she answers, with a heavy sigh. Her deep eyes gaze into mine, silently promising to reveal all the knowledge they seem to be holding, "—because I care about what happens to you," she admits.
"Well don't, because I'm not your responsibility."
"If not me, then who?" Before my lips can release the next stinging retort, the door behind her opens suddenly. Root suddenly emerges from the room. "Asked and answered," she says, in a deflated tone.
She doesn't say another word, but brushes pass Root, who ignores her as she quietly storms back into the room. At the click of the locking door, Root begins to approach me. I brace for clever comment, or some overstated innuendo, but instead I'm greeted by steady air of silence. Her eyes take a calculated glance toward me as she grins coyly. "Come with me," she says, grabbing my hand and whisking me into a room nearby.
