December 24, 2016

Life after Root was excruciating, but Shaw had had lifetimes of Root to remember. It was enough, most days, to remember the way Root had smiled at her, naked and dazzlingly bright in dawn light.

They'd had days together, barely, really, but Shaw had lived years in simulations with her, a Root that loved her and understood her more than the person Root had been probably ever could have, given time.

Given time, Shaw would have frustrated Root with her lack of emotions, lack of ability to care the way Root would have wanted her to. The way everyone she'd been with had wanted her to; Root would have joined a long list of ex-lovers, had she lived.

It was cold comfort, but it was comfort.

Shaw let herself into the facility silently, barely more than a shadow on the wall. She thought back to a few years ago.

December 25, 2014

It was Christmas, and the denizons of the Subway could see their breath in the cold, underground air. Shaw came in with a few presents; mostly guns for everyone, along with a cell-phone that ran on the VHF they were currently using. Root had one, extra, small present that Shaw slipped in with the others. It was the only one she'd wrapped, rolling her eyes at the Christmas tree John had slipped into the Subway for Harold. Bear immediately took his bone from Shaw, nosing her excitedly in greeting before retreating to a corner to have a good chew.

Shaw had given Finch a UV lamp with her robbery wages (cosmetics bought in a meagre wage) and bought down vitamin D gummies every few weeks, but Harold still looked pale, eerily so in the Christmas lights that hadn't been here last time Shaw had come. Shaw looked over at Reese, who shrugged sheepishly.

There was a small pile of wrapped presents under the tree which made Shaw eye her own presents awkwardly. They were trained killers hiding from an AI superpower, and they were wrapping presents for Christmas like they were playing happy families? Screw that. Shaw dumped hers on top; carefully, as she'd pre-loaded them. Shaw was practical if nothing else. Lionel had one under his tree too; so did a few other key players. No card; they'd know who it was from.

Root looked up from the camping stove she was working on - there were several, all simmering and Shaw's stomach rumbled as she finally took in the smell of the dinner Root had been cooking. Roast beef, mashed potatoes - everything she'd dreamed of while she was deployed. Root smiled and turned back to her cooking, and Shaw felt a little snubbed.

Shaw strolled over and looked into a saucepan. Harissa. It smelled great.

"Impressive," Shaw said finally, swallowing suddenly as her saliva production increased.

"Nearly ready - can you turn off the toaster oven? Roast should be done." Shaw nodded and pulled out the roast, leaving it to cool in its tray. She pulled out a camping table and set it up with some chairs. "Do you mind setting the table, Shaw? There's a bag under the bench."

"I'll do it," Finch said hurriedly, seeing Shaw's face.

"I should hire you to cook for me," Shaw said, looking over the finished meal with satisfaction. Root blushed and looked away.

"I have a job," Root said, a teasing lilt to her voice "but I do need a hobby. You could come over on a Friday evening?"

Shaw was willing to agree to anything as long as it ended with Root delivering food into her face. Even this, which sounded date-like.

"We should do this more often," Finch said, sounding a little sad, and Shaw remembered that although they were all hiding, Finch had someone he was hiding from; someone he would rather be with than this motley crew of retired mercenaries and hackers. Root reached over and patted Shaw's hand.

"You're all welcome," Root said, squeezing Shaw's hand. Shaw looked away like she hadn't noticed Root's hand on hers, knowing Finch and Reese would be too polite to mention it.

Root stood and started clearing up, her hand resting on Shaw's shoulder as she cleared her plate. Shaw hadn't had a Christmas dinner in years; looking around the table she knew she wasn't alone. It was slightly awkward for a moment, then Root put on a Christmas CD as she cleared the paper plates into the garbage, carefully scraping scraps into Bear's bowl. He looked up, interested, then went back to his bone, secure in the knowledge that his dinner would be waiting when he was ready, tail wagging as he watched Root.

Root sat at the terminal, typing into the black screen. Shaw was OK with computers, but this OS was nothing she'd seen before; there was no CMD or Linux language, there were no commonalities she could see. It looked more like python or C# at the base of it, but she had no idea what ran on it. Root didn't look away from the screen as Shaw picked up a book from the desk. The cover was garish; the ugliest reindeer pulled the skinniest Santa she had ever seen. Shaw flipped idly through a few pages before putting it down.

"We're going to open presents, once you're ready," Shaw said, cursing Finch for asking her to do this.

Root hummed non-noncommittally and kept typing. Shaw wandered over to the consoles on their makeshift racks, saw something out of place.

"What's this for?"

"It's the FTB," Root said, looking up as Shaw picked up a fluffy teddy bear from an empty part of the rack.

"But why is it here?"

"It prevents the OOC error," Root said calmly, as though she was explaining something very simple to someone very dim. "Now put it back please, before you break something."

Puzzled, Shaw returned the bear to the shelf.

"Presents," she said firmly. Root looked up, hit enter and stood.

"Thanks for coming for me," Root said, linking her arm through Shaw's as they exited the carriage. Shaw rolled her eyes but didn't move away. She wasn't going to ruin Christmas for Finch.

Everyone had been very appreciative of their new weapons, which made Shaw glow with pride. Even Finch eyed his taser appreciatively. Shaw's own haul was also very metallic; mostly steel with a beautiful Damascus leatherman from Root being the highlight.

"It's beautiful," Shaw said, opening the blade again. "Such fine craftsmanship."

Root just looked at Shaw, head tilted a little, a soft smile on her face.

Reese had some business shirts and a knee brace; the latter made him laugh unexpectedly and Shaw felt a rush of affection for the big man; he was reliable and predictable, which Shaw liked. He started cleaning his brand new gun as the rest of the presents were opened and Shaw nodded approvingly.

Finch had mostly warm winter clothing to keep the chill of the subway at bay. Root had given him something that Shaw didn't recognize that sent them both into spasms of excited words as they played with it.

And Root had her weapons, some Christmas pajamas and a single bottle of the most expensive black nail polish that Shaw's work stocked.

Root looked up, and started to speak and Shaw knew that Root was going to thank her so she stood.

"I have to get going," she said uneasily. "Happy holidays, I guess."

Shaw filled her pockets and slunk out of the subway.

When Shaw got home, she pulled a beer from the fridge and drank it standing as she emptied her pockets.

Underneath all the weaponry was a small package of nuts and dried fruit, wrapped in tulle. Shaw bought it to her mouth and inhaled. It could only have been Root.

It smelled like Shaw's childhood, and she sat suddenly, thumb running over the thin fabric.

December 25, 2016, 12:06am

Shaw crept through the facility, gun at her hip. So far the place seemed unmanned. She made it to her target, picked it up, dusted it off.

She made it two steps to the door before her earpiece broke out into static; this voice was not Root's but The Machine's, a dull, primal "Mike India November Echo" getting progressively louder. Shaw sighed and put the FTB back.

"I know she gave it to you for Christmas, but I wanted something of hers." Shaw had enough shame to look slightly abashed.

"Mike India November Echo," The Machine said again, almost petulantly. Shaw had been the sole benefactor of Samantha Grooves' will, but there was little personal among her effects. It seemed like leaving Gen with aunt Zoe for the night for this mission had been a bust.

"I wanted something of hers for Gen," Shaw said quietly. "So she could know... so she could..." Shaw had become Gen's legal guardian a few years ago; the girl still boarded at school but Shaw was the most stable of The Machine's associates, and surprising even herself she had volunteered as soon as she knew it was an option.

The Machine, evidently still upset over the loss of the FTB, stayed silent.

"I wanted Gen to know what kind of person she was. Did she code you to do this?"

When The Machine spoke, Shaw startled. It was back to using Root's voice.

"The FTB is mine. You're hers."

Shaw sighed and patted the nearest server. "Don't worry, I'll think of something else. There's an old computer in there somewhere, Gen would probably prefer that anyway. Probably too old for teddies, and she takes after her..." Shaw stopped before she said 'other mom'. "She likes computers," Shaw finished lamely. "You should meet her one day, you'd be proud of her. She's off to Italy to see Uncle Finch after Christmas." Shaw paused. "He seems happy, now," she said.

"Harold deserves happiness. So do you."

And with that Shaw left the facility, thinking back to that one Christmas in the subway, thinking about how best to tell Gen about that night, thinking about the dinner Zoe, Fusco, Gen, Harper, Will, Taylor and Bear will have tomorrow night, knowing that there are people missing from the table.

Shaw swung by the cemetery on the way home, and left a small tulle bag of dried fruit and nuts on a gravestone that was simply a number, the way she does every year. She crouched next to the grave.

"I wanted to show her a part of you, but I think the best parts of you are in my memories. I'll tell her you programmed a supercomputer to cry if you take away its teddy bear, and I think she'll like that as much as The Machine likes its bear." Shaw sighed. "I miss you. I hear you every day, but it's not the same."

With that, Shaw patted the gravestone and walked into the night.

+++ Out Of Cheese Error +++ was on the next day's list of numbers, for reasons no one could ascertain.

Shaw mentioned it to Gen, who excitedly sat down Shaw in front of the TV to watch what Shaw had thought was a Christmas movie called Hogfather. The voice in her ear told her 'Happy Hogwatch', and Shaw never touched the FTB again.

Notes:

Happy Hogswatch!

The idea came around as I was talking to some younger techies who had never seen Monty Python and didn't know what spam was named after or python scripting and from there I thought of Sir Terry Pratchett's legacy and the GNU code that runs around and of course Root has GNU running on The Machine, of course Root gives The Machine a Christmas present, of course that Christmas present is a FTB.

It was sad writing a reality in which Root and John are gone, but I am not a Christmas fan and this was about as much Christmas as I could stuff into one fic.

wiki/Hex_(Discworld)

"Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken?"

― Terry Pratchett, Going Postal

"Everyone dies alone. But, if you *mean* something to someone... if you help someone... or loved someone... if even a single person remembers you... then maybe you never really die at all."
- The Machine, Person of Interest.

The dried nuts are from Yalda, which is the Persian celebration for the winter solstice. Christmas is a few days later, but Root was being subtle.

I guess this could be set in 2014/2016, as part of Tis the Season, but it wasn't intended to be part of that work. It kind of fits in there though, but still works as a standalone. I had other plans for December 25 for TTS but parts of this may be incorporated.

"Ponder and his fellow students watched Hex carefully.
'It can't just, you know, stop,' said Adrian 'Mad Drongo' Tumipseed.
'The ants are just standing still,' said Ponder. He sighed. 'All right, put the wretched thing back.'
Adrian carefully replaced the small fluffy teddy bear above Hex's keyboard. Things immediately began to whirr. The ants started to trot again. The mouse squeaked.
They'd tried this three times.
Ponder looked again at the single sentence Hex had written.
+++ Mine! Waaaah +++
'I don't actually think,' he said, gloomily, 'that I want to tell the Archchancellor that this machine stops working if we take its fluffy teddy bear away. I just don't think I want to live in that kind of world.'
'Er,' said Mad Drongo, 'you could always, you know, sort of say it needs to work with the FTB enabled...'
'You think that's better?' said Ponder, reluctantly. It wasn't as if it was even a very realistic interpretation of a bear.
'You mean, better than "fluffy teddy bear"?'
Ponder nodded. 'It's better,' he said."

- Hogfather, Sir Terry Pratchett