Root found her head aching again, yawned as she pushed the pancakes away from her, towards Shaw. Shaw eyed her with concern, and the pancakes with hunger.
"Caffeine wearing off?" Shaw asked. "Can't give you any more for a few hours." Root nodded tiredly, made her way back over to the bed and lay down. Shaw followed her concerned.
"Do you need anything? A bucket?" Shaw asked, noticing the pallor of Root's face. Root groaned when she tried to shake her head. "I'm getting a bucket," Shaw said, coming back over with a bin with a fresh liner in it. She left, came back again with another glass of water. Root groaned again and Shaw hesitated for a moment before going back to the pancakes Root had so suddenly rejected. They were still warm; it would have been a waste.
Pancakes finished, Shaw went back over to the bed, sitting on the edge and feeling Root's forehead for signs of fever. She quickly checked the wounds, covering Root's stomach respectfully when she was satisfied that there was no infection causing Root's sudden downturn.
"Must have... overdone it a bit," Root said. Shaw nodded, pulled the covers over Root's shivering body. Shaw stood and rummaged through her clothes, came back with a handwarmer and a warm coat, which she draped over Root. She dug under the blankets for Root's hands, cracked the pack and placed it between them. She held Root's hands between her own for a moment and as she was about to pull away Root's hand turned to grasp her own. Shaw swallowed. "Just need a rest. Thank you. Warmer." Shaw waited until the hand in hers fell slack, then tucked it back around the heatpack. She pulled the blankets a bit higher, moved Root's hair off of her face, looking down at the slumbering former assassin, current assassin, former foe and... friend? Shaw's fingers found themselves skirting Root's ear again and Shaw shook her head, stood and turned the thermostat up a bit. She washed the dishes, looking over at the bed occasionally. She took a few calls from Reese, read him directions from the shadow map as he made his way through the city. She read from her book, gave her fingers some dexterity training from her surgery days, did some bodyweight exercises, cleaned her guns.
Root drifted in and out of consciousness, the caffeine in the Tylenol making her sleep restless. Shaw was never out of her line of sight.
A few hours later, Root sat up gingerly, feeling her forehead.
"That looks nasty," Shaw said, not looking up. "Not broken though," she added.
"What looks nasty?"
"Nose," Shaw said. "You look pretty beat up. Best to stay off the streets until that bruising starts to heal."
Root got unsteadily to her feet, and Shaw watched her carefully, muscles tensed in case she was needed. Root looked in the bathroom mirror at the two black eyes she was sporting.
"Ooof," Root said, making her way back to the bed, sitting up and drinking the water.
"Painkillers?" Shaw asked.
"Anything without caffeine?" Root countered.
"Codeine, I think." Shaw got up and looked through a cupboard. "Yeah." Shaw bought them over to Root, watched as she took two and swallowed briskly. Root laid back down and Shaw went back to the table, picked up her book again.
"Stay off the streets, you said?" Root asked. "Somewhere like... here?"
"I'm not carting you through the shadow maps back to yours, even if it is more comfortable. Too risky." Shaw said. "Your head injury could still turn nasty," Shaw continued, slowly. "Best to be with someone while you heal up."
"And that someone is you?"
"I'm the most medically skilled person you know," Shaw said.
"You don't know my contact," Root countered playfully.
"I'm the most medically skilled person who can keep you safe that you know," Shaw amended through a clenched jaw.
Root cocked an eyebrow and Shaw's jaw tightened even further. "I could take you to the subway."
"Oh, I wasn't objecting. Just... touched by your concern," Root purred, and Shaw rolled her eyes, a little relieved. "Do you have a computer?"
"Root, it's going to make your head worse if you try to work now."
"Not for work, I promise. You don't have a tv, any books, a radio... I'm bored."
"You'll be asleep again in half an hour," Shaw said, still looking at her ereader.
"Yes, and until then the options for you are handing me your laptop, or talking to me until I fall asleep." Shaw rolled her eyes and put her ereader on the table, grabbed a bag behind the door.
Shaw sat on the edge of the bed again. "What are you after?"
"Youtube. Some music. You choose." Shaw could see Root's fingers twitching as Shaw typed and Shaw wondered if this had been the longest Root had been away from technology since it became portable. She put the laptop on the box next to the bed she was using a bedside table. "Thanks," Root said quietly, hands tucked under her head. Shaw winced again when she saw the bruises on Root's face. There was a faraway look on Root's face, like she was already planning revenge. Shaw hadn't thought to ask what had happened to the people Root had been fighting but now...
"Did you leave anyone alive last night?' Shaw asked casually.
"Hmm?" Root asked, and Shaw repeated herself.
"One of them."
"What did they look like?" Shaw took the description Root gave her, and later, when Root had fallen asleep, Shaw called Reese for an APB on the bastard that did this to her. Half an hour later Reese dialled back to tell her he'd been taken to the morgue along with the others that had been found where Root had left them. Shaw nodded with satisfaction; it saved her some time.
Notes: American painkillers all have caffeine in them and that's great if you live in a capitalist society in which you can't take sick days but terrible if you just want to sleep until your bones reset.
I'm really proud of the fact that I can make a fist with my dominant hand again. I can't do it very fast, or every time, and I wouldn't be able to hit someone with it, but it is progress. it helps with typing too.
