A/N: The hiatus is finally ending! OMG I can't wait for the next episode! To help you get through the last hours of waiting, here's a new chapter.
Don't forget to leave a review in the end, because it makes me happy when you do.
The night had settled a few hours ago. Shaw was cleaning the mess of blood, cloths and dressings after she had finished patching up Root, the wounded woman still fast asleep on the couch. She found a blanket on one of the house's bedrooms and brought it to put over Root. As if she hadn't done it a billion times before, Shaw checked Root's pulse again before stepping away, making sure that she was okay. The isotonic solution still dripping slowly as it hang from the coat stand by the couch into Root's body.
Shaw sighed and then instructed herself to pay attention to the other person in the room, Claire, who was sitting on the floor, her arm cuffed to the radiator. Shaw got another blanket and a few pillows and tossed them at the young woman.
"Are you hungry or thirsty?" Shaw asked, absently. Claire nodded in return, and Shaw picked up a small bottle of water, a beer and a packaged tuna sandwich from the plastic bags she had brought from the liquor store. She handed the water and the sandwich to Claire before stepping away, letting herself sink on an armchair nearby, beer in hand. She opened the cap with her hand with little effort, flicking it far away with her fingers, not caring where it landed. She was now more interested in understanding the reason why Claire was leverage, why they had gone to all that trouble for her, why Root almost died to snatch her from Samaritan. But it was Claire who asked the first question.
"Who are you?"
"Do you remember Harold? Let's say we are friends of his." Shaw asked, figuring it would be the best approach. And by mentioning him, Shaw remembered that she hadn't yet spoken to Finch since she was retrieving Root's injured body from imminent death. She made a mental note to call him later.
Claire's eyes narrowed when Shaw mentioned Harold, recalling the day she won the game and was recruited by the omnipotent power that she now considered her protector, her master, the only thing that gave meaning to her life. She remembered how he tried to convince her that the thing that was reaching back to her, to her search for a meaning, wasn't the right one, that this meaning wouldn't be the meaning she wanted. But until now it had been. It had given structure to her life, a purpose, a task.
"So all of this is to stop me from working with Samaritan?" Claire asked.
Shaw stared at her for a while.
"I guess it is. But I'm not the one who knows the reason you're here. She is." Shaw finally answered, looking behind her shoulder to Root sleeping on the couch. "And maybe you know too. More than me, for sure." She paused, staring fixedly at Claire. "What is it that Greer has you developing?"
The question left Claire confused. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly at the name Greer.
"Who?"
And then it was Shaw's turn to furrow her eyebrows in confusion.
"I don't know any Greer. I only work with Him, Samaritan." Claire clarified.
Shaw didn't know which part of those sentences made her more itchy. The fact that Claire was working for Samaritan but didn't know the head of Samaritan's human forces, the fact that she hadn't actually said 'work for' but rather 'work with', or the fact that she had called Samaritan a him. Shaw had to contain a loud chuckle as she thought of Samaritan and the Machine as the Adam and Eve of an Artificial Super Intelligence kind. Somehow it made sense that if Root addressed the Machine as Her, Samaritan would be a Him. She still thought it was the stupidest thing ever, though. She didn't mind using the personal pronoun on the Machine anymore, because she had learned to respect Her, and specially because Root treated the Machine like that and for some unknown reason Shaw decided to go along, or at least that's what she told herself.
"Who is Greer?" Claire questioned, snapping Shaw out of her trail of thoughts.
"He's the head of your sweet Samaritan's dictator army…" Shaw paused for a while, understanding how little Claire really knew, and yet how relentless she had been in joining Samaritan's cause. "You really have no idea what is really going on, do you?"
Claire kept staring at her, mouth shut, forehead muscles tightened. She didn't answer. She had no answer. How would she? She had no idea what that woman was referring to. All she knew was that Samaritan swore to protect her, and it hadn't failed yet, at least, not until that day, and that the task she was developing was to protect lives, to help, to give structure and stability to mankind. That's what He had told her, and she had never doubted it for a second. Shaw shook her head at the lack of an answer.
The hours passed, the empty beer bottles increased in the small centre table by Shaw's adopted armchair. She had already called Finch, assuring him that they were fine, telling him what happened to Root and mentioning that they had Claire. When she mentioned the name, she felt Finch shift abruptly in his seat. A million questions had followed, some of which Shaw didn't know what to answer. If only Root was awake so that she could be the one having to listen to Finch… She rushed the conversation, telling him that only after Root recovered they'd be able to know what this was really about, reassuring him that they didn't need help and that Root would be fine. Finch was almost questioning her medical capabilities, and that irritated her. With a quick "I'll call you again tomorrow" she hung up on him.
After taking Claire to the bathroom, monitoring her every second, Shaw cuffed her to the same place again and turned off the single lamp light that lit the living room. She then moved her armchair closer to the couch where Root was laying, sideways so that she wouldn't turn her back on Claire and close enough to the couch that she could check Root's pulse by merely stretching her arms forward to reach her neck. She did it one last time, relieved to find Root's pulse normal and her breath steady, only then she let herself recline on the chair.
As the first ray of sunlight entered the rectangular windows of the living room Root woke up. She took a minute to realize where she was, what had happened, to even remember that she had a bullet wound in her abdomen. That last one she only remembered due to the acute pain that spread from it. She tried to sit up on the couch but that otherwise simple task was now unbearable. She hissed in pain, letting herself relax against the cushions again. Then she noticed Shaw by her side, sunken in the armchair, sleeping. The hacker grinned at Shaw's adorable face, her mouth slightly open, head resting on one hand, one foot on the chair, knee up, falling to the same side as her head, her other hand resting on the crooked leg.
Root bit her lip as she watched Shaw sleeping. She looked so peaceful, so calm, and yet so deadly. Root stretched her arm, thinking about caressing Shaw's hand. She was only inches away from touching Shaw's skin with her fingers, but she wavered, reconsidering her actions. She swallowed hard, withdrawing her hand back to herself. What if Shaw woke up with her caressing her hand? Why risk another gun shot?
Instead, Root tried to prop herself up again. She gasped in pain once more, and this time Shaw actually woke up, prompting herself up from the armchair and pushing Root back down.
"Hey, hey, hey! What do you think you're doing? Keep your ass still!" Shaw grumbled.
"I just want to sit up." Root said receiving a death stare from Shaw.
"What you want is to stop moving! You were shot, remember?" Shaw argued.
Root tilted her head slightly, curving her lips up in a smile.
"I've survived worse."
It was true, but the comment wasn't appreciated by Shaw and Root noticed it, so she obeyed Shaw's order to remain lied down on the couch. She was sure Shaw was going to say something in return, but for some reason she simply shook her head.
"Did you save the bullet? I want to make it into a necklace." Root joked.
Shaw reached for a cloth on the center table, four metal fragments, stained with blood and tissue laying on it.
"You can make four and offer them to your future kids." Shaw said and Root's smile widened.
The hacker removed the blanket that Shaw had covered her with halfway to the side and looked down at herself, her bloody shirt cut all the way from the bottom to the hem of her bra, her jacket basically covered in dry blood just like the couch cushions. But her torso was clean, the white dressing neat on her wound, only dotted by a small circle of red in the middle on the cotton white. Root smiled at the thought of Shaw cleaning and patching her up and she almost cursed herself for having lost consciousness.
When she spotted the blood stain through the dressing, Shaw came closer to Root, standing with one knee on the floor, by the couch.
"Let me have a look at it." Shaw requested.
Root's muscles tensed involuntarily when Shaw's fingers contacted the bare skin around the dressing. The sudden contraction causing a jolt of pain to spread in Root's abdomen and she hissed. Her muscles relaxed after a brief moment as Shaw pilled off one side of the dressing to check if the wound was still bleeding.
Root bit down her bottom lip, a cheeky smile forming in her mouth.
"I always imagined the first time your hands were in me a little bit differently." Root said, purposely emphasizing the word in. She let the innuendo linger for a moment before continuing. "But I guess it was not that bad to have a doctor around."
Shaw stared at her, her gaze threatening. Root chuckled lightly, understanding that it was better to lay off.
"I presume I'm not allowed to shower, but can I have new clothes at least?"
"I didn't take off your clothes because I'm pretty sure you didn't bring any spares… and I'd have hurt you, probably… so I decided it was best to just let you sleep with those on." Shaw said, her eyes not adverting her tasks of covering Root's wound again after making sure it was not bleeding.
"There are clothes in the bedroom's drawers." Root simply said, grinning. Shaw looked at her momentarily before getting up and walking into the house's main bedroom to look for something that Root could wear. Root's smile widened when Shaw brought a grey hoodie, holding it up in her hand for Root to see. It was a bit too big for her, but it would have to do.
"Can I sit up now and get changed, doctor?" Root asked, her voice playful like she did almost every time she wanted to mess with Shaw's temper. And as usual, Shaw was not amused by her tone.
Shaw helped Root sit up, slowly, trying to minimize Root's abdominal efforts, because she knew those would hurt her whilst sitting up. Even with Shaw's help, sitting up proved to be a quite hard and very painful task.
The wounded woman tried to remove her jacket by herself but Shaw immediately intervened, pulling the leather sleeves out of Root's thin arms, one at a time and then cutting the rest of Root's shirt to her neck and pulling it off of her too.
Root started to feel a little too exposed as she stood almost half naked in front of Shaw. She tried to hide away the feeling but she was almost sure her cheeks were betraying her, especially when Shaw took longer than necessary before helping her put the oversized hoodie on. During those few seconds, Root wanted desperately to look into Shaw's eyes and try to read them, but she was scared that her own eyes would reveal more than she wanted if by any chance they'd meet Shaw's halfway. So she just looked at the hoodie's embroidered sports logo while she waited for Shaw to give it to her.
When she was finally redressed, Root regained courage to look into Shaw's eyes. Their gazes locked for a moment. The silence that settled in the house was dense and but soothing. Root stared into her own hands, opening her mouth to say something, but the words took a while to come out. She stared into Shaw's eyes again before she could finally speak, her voice deprived of any playfulness this time, but rather filled with honesty.
"Thank you Sameen."
Shaw nodded her head faintly, bringing one hand to gently squeeze Root's upper arm, her touch quick but caring.
"Just try not to get shot so often, will you?"
Root smiled.
Shaw then walked away to get something for them to eat. Milk and a few snacks that she had bought from the liquor store. Only when both of them finished eating Shaw decided that it was time to wake Claire up. She was still sleeping in what seemed the most uncomfortable position ever.
Root watched Claire in silence while Shaw handed her some food that she promptly ate. Shaw sat back in the armchair she had spent the night in. She looked from Root to Claire, waiting for one of them to start talking, but it was taking too long for it to happen, and Shaw wasn't great with patience in times like that.
"Okay, so what about you girls explain to me what this is about. Root, will you do the honors?" Shaw asked whilst resting her elbows on her things, looking at Root.
Root kept staring at Claire, grinning when Shaw finished her question, but the smile wasn't genuine, it was ironic.
"It's funny how I can see so much of me in you, Claire." Root said, leaving Shaw's question unanswered for now. But she'd get there eventually. Claire furrowed her brows. "The difference is that we're playing on the opposite side of the chessboard." Root continued.
Claire suddenly seemed to understand.
"Tell Shaw here what Samaritan recruited you for." Root suggested.
"There aren't two players in this." Claire replied, still referring to Root's chess analogy.
"Oh that's where you're wrong. There are. Although Samaritan is using you to try to get rid of the competition."
Shaw was also starting to understand, and as Root kept explaining everything, she understood her rush to abduct Claire.
Samaritan had kept Claire away from Greer and everything else, instead training her to defeat several AI's. Like in a game, Claire would be challenged to fight increasingly more complex artificial intelligences, winning when she completely destroyed them. And Claire had succeeded on defeating all of them until a couple of nights before that day, when Samaritan engaged her in the final stage – to destroy the Machine. Claire had prepared her strategy, studied the code, planned the attack, developed her arsenal, but she had failed. And that was when the Machine alerted Root to what Claire was being used and told Root to capture her.
"I'm doing this to protect Samaritan from threats that are trying to stop Him from giving this world stability and protection, like it gives me." Claire argued.
Root couldn't help but to chuckle at the use of the masculine pronoun. She shook her head.
"Samaritan doesn't want to protect the world, Claire, it wants to be its ruler. You joined the wrong god. A god that only wants power, nothing else. But She believes you can still see what's right in the middle of all that's wrong, and change."
"She?" Claire asked confused, looking from Root to Shaw for an instant.
"The Machine. The one you couldn't even scratch. She believes in you." Root replied, her features and her voice severe and resolute.