Finally alone, she towers over me, her glossy eyes locked on my face. Her presence is like a dense fog that smothers me whenever she's in my space. I'm frozen as she plays her fingertips on the back of my hand and leans into me. She places a tender kiss on my lips that sparks a fuse in the recesses of my cold body. I squirm from her embrace, and she grabs hold of my fleeting hand.

"Don't pull away from me," she says, "I just got you back."

"I'm not the one that left," I say.

"What do you want me to say?" she asks, "do you want me to admit it was a mistake— fine, it was a mistake."

"Don't do that... don't patronize me," I say. The game of tug of war ends with her forcing our bodies together.

"I mean it, I should have never left without you," she says.

"It doesn't matter now," I say.

"But it does" — a brightness rises in her cheeks, as she caresses my arms— "because I love you," she says.

I pull away, "Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

Her shoulders rise in frustration, "Maybe I want... no— I need to know that you feel the same," she says.

"And if I say yes, would that mean something to you?" I ask— she shrugs at me — "and if I say no..."

A weighty silence befalls the room, and our thoughtful glances seek refuge apart from each other. Suddenly, the door crashes wide open, and the sound of clanking metal echoes off the walls of the room. In seconds, the room is covered in a thick white smoke, and I'm choking on air and blinded by the fog. Noisy footsteps capture the attention of my heightened hearing, followed by the bungling sounds of a scuffle. I move toward where I had last visual of Root, but a sharp sting to the back of my head suddenly quiets the commotion.

I'm nudged awake by the sensation of cold steel pressed to my head. My eyes creek open and my blurred vision slowly clears. Root is tied to the chair across from me, Ava tied next to her. The three of us in the server room being held captive by a few armed men. None of whom give off the appearance of having one intelligent thought between the lot of them. Definitely, none of them beaming with leadership skills.

Root looks directly at me and winks; ever the calm in the middle of a storm. Ava however, is a sobbing mess as she squirms to free herself from the restraints. Her threat level apparent by the lack of interest shown in her escape attempt by our Neanderthal captors. A cursory glance of the room, and I notice Harold, Fusco, and Harper are all absent until a voice appears from behind me.

"I'm so sorry about this," Harper says, as she brushes her hand over my shoulder. "I know you must be very confused," she says, as she kneels down in front of me.

"You could say that," I say. I keep my composer with my words, but my spirit is aflame with the fury from her betrayal. "Quite the long con," I say.

She gently wipes the blood from my forehead. "It wasn't all a con," she replies with a warmth in her voice. "All those nights together were very real, but unfortunately, so were the stories I told you about my ex." She glances over at Root who appears to be more rattled by that revelation than actually being held against her will.

"Honey, I knew you were lonely but I didn't think you were desperate," Root says. Her comment is an obvious veiled attempt at hiding her true feelings. Still it doesn't stop Harper from shooting up to meet Root's face with a swift backhand.

"Don't do that again," I demand. The heaviness in my voice draws everyone's attention to me.

"Peter Collier," she says, while staring down at me. "He's my ex, and you'd have known that if you'd ever asked, or even if you'd ever really listened,"— she straddles my lap and rests her arms on my shoulders— she adds, "but I guess that's not the reason you took interest in me."

"You mean to tell me that the woman you are trying to court didn't take interest in your dead ex, I'm truly surprised," Root says, making sure to get across her disdain.

Harper arises from my lap very slowly, taking every advantage to caress her hands across my body. "Well, we discussed you too," she says, tauntingly. "I can sum it up if you're wondering."

"I'm not," Root says.

"How about you Ava?" Harper asks. The blond is too distraught to reply. "Did you have to hear about Shaw night after night too? she asks. Ava's quivering body steadies momentarily, and I know there is some truth to what Harper has implied.

"Why are we here, revenge for Collier?" I ask. "Let me guess, you blame us for his death."

"Well you shouldn't," Root chimes in, "he was playing in a field not commensurate to his abilities."

"Yet I loved him. Not that those words mean anything to someone like you," Harper replies. "But to answer your question, no. It's not about revenge for his death. Not anymore," she says, staring directly in my eyes.

A flick of her hands and her minions go to work, placing targeted explosives throughout the room. I watch as she heads over to the main frame and begins typing vigorously at the keyboard. There's an intense expression of relief and finality on her face. The computer alarms begin to ring out and she leans back with a accomplished smile on her lips. She jolts toward me and plants a soft lingering kiss on my lips.

"It's about the only thing strong enough to snuff out the flames of vengeance—

"And what's that?" Root interrupts.

— love of course," Harper answers. She directs her attention to the wily brunette. "Her love for you actually," she adds, "that's why we are all here right now."

"Let them go and I'll stay," I say.

"I'm not going anywhere without you," Root declares, defiantly.

"I knew you'd say that," Harper says, "but lets be honest, it's easy to choose her life for yours, isn't it?" She pushes Roots chair next to mines and turns her toward Ava. "But what about her life?" the volatile vixen asks, pointing the gun at Ava's shivering head. "Shaw or Ava, who would yo—

"Shaw," Roots answers without hesitation.

— wow, that's cold, but not surprising," Harper says, frowning at Ava, " I'd choose Shaw too, sorry."

"This isn't a contest, no one wins me," I say. A darkness shadows Harper's usual bright facade.

She kneels before me once more. "There is no contest so long as she is a choice to you," she says, "without realizing it, my thirst for vengeance dissipated the more time I spent with you. I realized that I was risking my life for someone who didn't choose me. Now— don't get me wrong, I loved Peter's passion for injustice. But he made a choice, everyday, to keep pursuing this thing, and it got him killed."

"And now you're here, ready to do the same," I say.

"I was, but now I'm not; because I realize, I'm more angry at him for leaving than I am at all of you," she says — rising to her feet — " and soon you'll see it too."

"Did you ever think that maybe she's just not that into you?" Root asks.

"We'll see..." she says, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket and placing it on the mainframe. "This code will remove the virus I just installed," —she pulls out a small explosive from her other pocket— "this device is set to go off at the same time it will take to save your precious Machine." She places the device on Shaw's lap. "You can save the Machine or you can get you and your love safely out of harms way. It's up to you," she adds.

"Forget me, what about Fusco and Harold?" I ask.

"Wow, not even an honorable mention for you Ava sweetie," Harper scoffs. "I've accomplished what I set out to do. You were the last piece, and for your sake, I left them unharmed and far away from this place."

"How generous," I say, glancing over at the poor blonde, how seems to have been cast as collateral damage.

"Fine!" Harper groans, "I'll take her with me. Mostly because I just feel bad for her."

"Funny, I feel the same about you," Root says, "all this to prove your false theory." Her body stiffens. "It's her, it will always be her," she says. I can't bring myself to look at her. The depth of sincerity in her tone is unrecognizable to me. I feel my insides begin to flail for the familiarity of indifference.

"Your God or your girlfriend?" Harper says. She loosens Roots constraints while holding tight to the blond's arm. "Good luck baby," she whispers, before blowing me a kiss and exiting.

Root immediately jumps up from her chair to free me, but finds that my hands are unbound. I reach down and untie my legs. There's a displeased look on her face when I stand to my feet. Her eyes widen and she makes her way over to the mainframe. I follow her, watching while she tries to undo the damage the virus had begun to cause in the Machine's system.

"I know what you're thinking," she says, typing frantically, while keeping her eyes locked on the computer. "But I chose you, I did—" she bangs her hands on the mainframe, "—I do, choose you. But you're right, okay. Maybe I do need Her... because maybe, I don't like who I am without Her," she admits.

"Then save her, because I'm not going anywhere without you either," I say. As the words leave my mouth the screen begins to flash, "It's too late. Get out." Root ignores the warning, even as each plea gets more desperate. "Sameen... please, save her," the Machine begs via despairing pixels.

Roots dark brown eyes implore me not to do what was being asked of me. The pragmatist in me knows what must be done, but my developing sentimentality makes me wonder if I will be forgiven. I strike quickly, knocking her unconscious. I capture her in my arms, then I begin dragging her toward the door. It busts open before I can grab the knob, and Lionel rushes in to take on half of the dead weight.

We make it to the street and Harold pulls up in our escape vehicle. The tires screech against pavement as we take off down the street. In seconds the blast blows out the windows of the building, destabilizing the infrastructure and causing debris to fall to the street. Root shoots up from my arms to gaze back through the rear window. The distasteful glare she directs at me penetrates my icy demeanor. "I had no choice," I say.

"Pull the car over!" she shouts. Harold does as instructed and she dashes out the car, down an empty alley.

Fusco turns back to look at me. "Aren't you gonna get her?" he asks.

"What for?" I ask.

"Sometimes Ms. Shaw, just wanting to be with someone is enough of a reason," Harold says.

I do as advised, but am unsure as to what I could do to make this better for her. She stops at the stoop of one of the residential buildings, and I finally catch up to her. Tears are streaming down her face, but she is adamant in hiding it from me. I pull her toward me and force her to face me.

"How can I make this better for you?" I ask.

"You can't," she says— I turn to walk away — "wait... Sameen, I'm not mad at you." She pulls me back into her. "I just don't know how to be without Her, she was my guiding light," the misguided derelict says.

"Just do what I do whenever I have a tough call to make. Just do the opposite of what you would want to do," I advise her. I don't know what I said, but the comment makes her smile and giggle."I'm sorry Root. I know how it is to lose your guiding light."

"Really, and how did you handle it?" she asks.

"Alcohol— and escapism into a virtual world where you were still alive, mostly," I say.

"Oh, so I guess that would make me your guiding light then?" she asks.

"No," I say plainly, "you are my everything, and I don't want to pretend anymore." I kiss her for a moment, then pull away briefly to confirm it's real. She's real and alive, as am I; and we're here together. I kiss her again, and I don't waste another second questioning reality, because this is it, being here with her. — The End.