Hello and welcome to Chapter 13! Thank you for your continued support and I hope you enjoy the read! Please R & R! I still own nothing but the DVDs.
Chapter 13:
Harold punched the numbers on the vending machine and waited as the secret passage revealed itself. He had spent most of his day so far tending to his number. Root made a nice substitute helming the computer from the isolation of the secret subway, though she did so with a certain degree of displeasure. Harold sympathized with her, truly, he did, but he was also glad that he'd been spared having to be stuck down in the subway with her for too terribly long.
He sighed as he wandered the darkened corridor leading to their hideout. With Fusco's aid, the number had been taken care of without too many problems and he was finished until another number came up. He decided to check in on Root.
Predictably, Bear came to greet him in his usual enthusiastic manner. Finch was quick to give the dog the attention he wanted before waving him off and progressing further into the subway. His brow furrowed in confusion as he limped.
Odd…there wasn't a sign of Root anywhere yet.
Then he noticed it as he hobbled past the subway car, oblivious to the head of brunette hair visible through one of the windows. Finch's eyes narrowed at his workspace. The remnants of the Chinese food he'd brought Root earlier in the day were strung out across the desk in a sloppy manner that was unlike the hacker. Even worse was the soy sauce packet sitting precariously close to his keyboard.
"Such a mess." Finch muttered, tossing the containers aside and into a nearby waste bin. With his work station in pristine condition once again, he sat down to his computer and started it up. He sat for a moment and looked over his desktop; something seemed a bit off. Finch shrugged it off and pulled up his saved files, his face falling into an expression of confusion and frustration as he did so. Nothing was where he'd left it.
"Root…" He whined, not expecting an answer. Unknown to him, the hacker had the uncanny ability to move as silently with her crutch as she could with two good legs. She had snuck up behind him as he looked over his files.
"Problem, Harry?"
Harold gasped in response. He'd thought he was alone and hadn't expected an answer. He turned to fix her with an agitated expression as his pulse slowed. "I see you've taken the liberty of reorganizing my computer, Ms. Groves."
"The reading material down here is limited compared to the library." Root shrugged. "I had to find some way to entertain myself."
Harold had difficulty believing her explanation. She had been left alone in the subway many times without incident, but this time was different. Root was frustrated by her circumstance: being stuck on desk duty while Reese and Shaw went into danger, and Shaw was unhappy with her assignment. As much as Harold sympathized with Root's desire to take a more active role in their mission, he was certain that this was more than just a way to relieve boredom. He was being punished with a little harmless fun at his expense.
"Please, just…show me where you've moved the files from Detective Fusco."
With a playful smile on her face, Root leaned down over Harold's shoulder and quickly brought up a folder labeled "Noodle Head". Finch groaned out an "oh dear" under his breath at the title. He opened the folder and turned to look at Root sternly and speaking to her like a disappointed parent.
"You realize, Ms. Groves, that I expect you to fix what you've done."
"Of course, Harry." Root spoke, grabbing a cell phone and group calling Shaw and Reese via the VoIP function. "But thanks for reminding me: I have an update."
"Yeah, Root?" Reese's gruff voice sounded over speaker phone.
"Just thought you two should know, the BOLO Fusco put out on that truck turned up another lead. DC Metro officers spotted it minutes ago a few blocks from the capitol building…empty."
There was a quick moment of silence as all four of them took a moment to process the implications of Root's news. If the truck was empty, it meant they might be a bit too late. If the pentagon was the target, it meant that Shaw and Reese were both in danger. Root's gut coiled tightly at the thought. The anxiety of losing Shaw again settled in to lock around her ribs and make her breathing heavy.
"Any definite leads on where the ammonium nitrate might've gone?" Reese asked, suddenly becoming more alert than he already was his place in the bowels of the Pentagon. Shaw stayed silent, but felt the tension in her gut as she listened to the exchange. Control was in no direct danger, but there was a possibility that she would become collateral damage to an immensely powerful bomb.
"No," Root shook her head regretfully, "but I also learned that there were four vans stolen from different parts of DC a couple days ago.
Now that sounded familiar to both of the Machine's operatives currently under cover in the Pentagon. "Shaw, does that remind you of anything?" Reese asked urgently.
"It does." Both of them had taken note of a black van with no plates sitting in the parking lot early that morning. Strangely, it had a parking pass.
"I believe I also may have something." Harold pulled up the results of some research he'd been doing while the others conversed. "I did some digging into the John Hancock connection we discovered when we were investigating the mafia. For the most part, he seemed to be a ghost, but I was finally able to find something."
Root's face was a look of surprise as she looked at the image. She knew that face; they all did. "The head of DHS."
"Indeed." Harold nodded, "It seems that the elusive leader of the Anarchy Council and the head of the Department of Homeland Security, James Wiley, are one in the same." As he spoke, he sent the image to Shaw and Reese.
"That would explain the lack of security around here."
"Yeah," Shaw responded. "It was way too easy to get close to Control…both times."
Harold processed the information. This new revelation certainly did reveal a lot of the puzzle, but there was still the matter of Control. How exactly did she fit in all of this?
"Speaking of, Ms. Shaw, have you uncovered any immediate threats to Control's safety?"
She wished. A full three days of sticking with Control and all she had to show for it was a finger that was even more itchy than usual. "Not a one." Shaw sighed in disappointment. "The biggest threat to this woman besides me is hot coffee." As if punctuating her point, Control took a large sip from her mug from where she sat at her desk.
"So, maybe she is a threat?" Reese pitched one more time, still distrustful of Control.
"Not likely," Root spoke. "I hacked into her computer via a government server. There's no information on it that would indicate any direct involvement."
"Blujacking didn't turn up anything suspicious either." Shaw spoke under her breath to avoid being heard by the woman in question.
Harold's brow arched in confusion as he pondered his machine's motives. "So—why then would the machine give us her number if she is neither a victim nor a perpetrator?"
"It's possible that She's evolved again." Root shrugged. "Right, Harold?"
"Yes, I suppose it is possible." Harold nodded. "I did build the machine to learn and evolve over time."
Okay, so, going with that theory, what category would these new numbers be?" Reese wondered out loud and Root took a moment to think it over before answering.
"I guess it's possible She gave us a number that could help us with a larger problem."
By this point Root had migrated into the subway car with Harold on her heels. She had taken the liberty of acquiring surveillance feeds from inside important government buildings. Under the circumstances, it seemed like a good idea to evaluate them. There was nothing suspicious to be seen yet. Still, Root and Finch both had an unsettling feeling about all of this.
"Surveillance doesn't show anything."
"Even government buildings have camera dead zones." Shaw commented. "Seems likely that a group of former government agents would know their way around the cameras."
Finch had to agree. The cameras would only be of so much use to them in solving this problem. There was yet another troubling aspect of the equation to be addressed. John Hancock was in the wind. It made logical sense given the timing of everything that he expected something to happen while he was away.
"That's true, Ms. Shaw. However, I'm afraid there's another problem. James Wylie is out of town on business. It's probable that we don't have much time to stop this." Even several states away, the worry in Harold's tone was almost palpable. Reese and Shaw felt it too. A devastating enough attack on the nerve center of the country's defenses would result in further loss of life.
"Wasn't the building reinforced after 9/11?" Reese asked as a thought occurred to him. Just maybe there was hope that it wouldn't be too bad if they didn't get to the bomb quickly enough.
"Yes, but it still has its weak points."
Reese's shoulders slumped a bit as the hope left him, having been dashed by Finch's answer. He stalked through the hallways on the alert for any suspicious activity. "So, if you were to plant an explosive in the Pentagon, where would you put it if you wanted to inflict mass casualties, Finch?"
"On it."
"And I'll see if Control can tell me the likely places." Shaw answered, turning around to stride back into Control's office as the call came to an end.
It seemed a cloud had settled over the subway. Finch and Root had realized the gravity of the situation and they both found themselves seized with worry for their comrades and for the innocent lives. They'd both done their parts; the rest would be up to Reese and Shaw, but neither had felt so helpless in some time. The very real possibility of losing one or both of their friends had jumped up and slapped them both across the face in such a swift manner that they were left dazed. Finch had gone back to his computer, idly trying to come up with some sort of a solution, while Root restlessly continued to look through surveillance footage.
Shaw's chat with Control had gone as expected. She had been skeptical at first, but she'd eventually come around. The explanation coupled with the supporting evidence proved enough to sway the woman to their cause.
So it was, nearly half an hour after their call to the subway ended that John, Shaw, and now Controll continued to scour the Pentagon for the explosives. Control had suggested an area within the zone Harold had identified which had recently been vacated for impending renovations; John was heading there since he was the closest. Shaw and Control worked to evacuate the building as quickly and quietly as possible while also maintaining a look out for anyone who seemed to be out of place.
"I found it, Shaw." Reese spoke, breaking the radio silence after another few minutes of searching. He'd made his way to the vacated area of the complex on the inner most wall of the North side. There was a large atrium-like room with a high ceiling. Stepping into it, John first saw the painting tarp covering the floors, but then he saw the bags. But that wasn't the only thing.
"And we have a problem…"
The fertilizer would be explosive enough, but he also smelled gasoline. He guessed it would only take a small spark to set the whole thing off. The people who set this up had taken care of that, and then some. The bags appeared to be sitting on some sort of plate. It took Reese a moment to figure out what it was, but then he saw the bundle of pipe bombs and realized it must be a pressure switch. His eyes scanned over the pipe bombs and he noticed the timer.
A pressure switch and a timer. Talk about over kill. He was really only left with one option; defuse the bomb.
"How's that evacuation coming?" Six minutes. Only six minutes to work out this complex wiring system. The red numbers on the display looked up at him tauntingly.
"The blast zone's clear. We can get the rest clear after we take care of that bomb."
Both Harold and John tried to protest that idea, but they were too late. Shaw and Control were rounding the corner into the room a moment later. The pair in the subway were both mortified to see the pair of tracking blips in the same room. Finch set to work analyzing the photo of the detonation mechanism that Reese had sent him as he tried to find a means to detonate it. It was a complex system and would take some time to defuse; possibly more time than they had.
"There's nothing here that calls for three of us, Shaw." Reese protested, trying to make her leave. In the absence of any other danger, he knew it would be a difficult task. Thankfully, Root chimed in. Her voice was thick with terror even though she retained her usual composure. "He's right, Sam. That's not the only bomb. Something just came up in surveillance."
A moment later, Shaw's phone was buzzing in her pocket. She pulled it out to see the footage in question. Control leaned over to take a look with a questioning eye, immediately recognizing the scenery. "That's the basement of the Capitol building…" Frankly, it made her sick to her stomach that this was happening not only on her watch, but right under her nose.
Shaw looked at John with a sudden seriousness. "Reese, leave the bomb. We need to get to the Capitol building."
"You two can handle that." John protested. "Someone has to stay with this one. If we let it go, it could leave the country vulnerable." He ignored Harold's protests in his ear, telling him to get out, that lives had been saved. No one would die if it blew up. That just wasn't true. This bomb had the ability to bring down the systems that protected national security. People could die as a second hand result of that, and he just couldn't allow it.
Shaw refused to leave, noting that the timer was down to four minutes and thirty seconds. She voiced her own disapproval of his need to be an altruist. "Hey, there's no dead in team. Remember?" Her throat constricted around the words and her heart thumped painfully in her chest as she fought to keep the moisture tingling the corners of her eyes at bay. Was this what it felt like to be sad? The feeling was far stronger than she remembered.
John didn't even pause from his work. He spoke to her mechanically, as if he were forcing his own feelings down and focusing all of his willpower on the task at hand. "Sometimes there is, Sameen. You say that, but when it comes down to it, you and I are soldiers, and soldiers will die for the mission if necessary."
"Then let me take a crack at this." Shaw spoke, moving forward in an attempt to take John's place in front of the bomb. "You're less expendable."
Root froze in pure horror as she listened to Shaw's words. It was all of her worst nightmares coming true as she was forced to listen. She silently thanked John when he vehemently protested once again.
"No!" Shaw was surprised when Reese spun around sharply to look at her.
Three minutes; fifty seconds.
"We've looked down that road once before, Shaw. The team could go on without me, but without you, our operation would fall apart. The only thing that kept that from happening before was knowing you weren't dead."
Even as they fought their sadness and their worry, Root and Harold thanked John for his persuasive effort and continued to listen with increasingly baited breath. This was becoming far too tense, and Harold was quick to let them know.
"Ms. Shaw, it is imperative that you take Control and get to the Capitol building. There is nothing more you can do there."
Shaw affirmed his order with a nod, locking eyes with Reese for several more moments before reluctantly turning back the way she came.
"Stay alive, John." She spoke. It was her own little way of bidding him goodbye without fully accepting what was to come.
Three and a half minutes later, the sound of an explosion thundered through Root and Harold's ears as they sat in the subway waiting with anticipation. They both emotionally collapsed in on themselves in the same manner as the pentagon as two words were displayed on screen accented by the two disappeared GPS blips.
SIGNAL LOST
Bear had perhaps taken it the hardest.
One defused bomb and multiple gunfights after Shaw and Reese had managed to foil the AC, Shaw was dragging her worn out body down the steps leading into the subway. Alone.
As usual, the Malinois came bounding to her with his ears perked up and his tail wagging. Usually, she would've been as excited to see him as he was to see her, but this time she couldn't muster up the energy. She was bogged down with exhaustion and grief.
"Hey." She spoke softly, kneeling in front of the dog and petting him along the head and neck in comforting strokes. Bear seemed, at first, confused for a moment as they stared into each other's eyes. Gradually, his ears flattened against his head and his tail stopped wagging. It was as if he understood instinctually what had happened. Shaw was surprised to find that she felt guilty. As well as they got along, Bear had always been Reese's dog and she'd failed to bring his master back.
"I'm sorry, buddy." She spoke softly, as Bear let out mournful whines.
She stood after a few moments and made her way into the subway where the air was overwhelmingly somber. Finch sat with his back to her, trying and failing to keep himself busy at the computer. Surprisingly, Fusco sat on the bench in a state of deep thought looking every bit as somber as Finch. With a wave of guilt, Shaw guessed that Finch must've informed him of their losses. Somewhere in all the chaos between the Pentagon and the Capitol, both her cell phone and her earpiece had been damaged, leaving her no immediate way to contact them. It was natural that they would've assumed her dead as well.
Shaw ignored Finch and Fusco in favor of seeking out a certain hacker. She knew she would have a lot to answer for.
She stepped over into the subway car and found Root rubbing tiredly at her eyes. She had that same helpless look about her from a few days ago. Shaw could only imagine the 'what ifs' and the self blame that must've been going through the hacker's head. None of those things could've changed today's outcome, Shaw knew. She expected it wouldn't be so easy to convince Root of that. The more important thing at the moment was the need Shaw felt to put some life back into those painfully bloodshot eyes.
Shaw lingered for just a minute longer in the doorway of the car before making her presence known. Root's head shot up in surprise as she spun around to see Shaw standing there. She looked at her with an expression of awe for several moments before hobbling toward her without even bothering to grab the crutch as relief flooded her veins. It was just her and Shaw in that moment; no bullet wounds, no bombs, no death. Just them.
Shaw beamed up at Root, intent on making some smartass comment to start off their usual thinly veiled way of speaking, but Root interrupted her. She threw her arms around Shaw's neck and held her tightly, letting the fear and the anxiety of the day give way to relief as Shaw's scent invaded her.
Shaw stood wide-eyed for a moment, not quite sure what to do; hugging was new for them. Slowly, she returned the embrace, pulling Root's frame tightly to her, and the awkwardness slipped away as she did so. With Shaw's arms around her, Root was frantically crying and screaming into her neck as all of the pent up emotions came flooding back. Then she was pushing her away and shaking her by the arms.
Both of them remained completely oblivious to Harold's presence as he and Bear shared their grief.
Shaw just stood there, taking everything Root had to throw at her. She was too happy to be back. She listened as Root let out a barrage of 'What ifs' and 'How could yous' until finally she'd almost worn herself out and let slip the three words that Shaw had been averse to speaking or hearing openly.
"Damn it, Sameen." Root looked down at her with those watery doe eyes that had found their way into Shaw's heart somewhere along the way. She pleaded through her gaze for Shaw to understand what she meant to her; what it would mean to lose her…that John wasn't wrong when he said the team would fall apart because she wouldn't be able to stand being around everything that reminded her of Shaw. "I love you."
And Shaw did understand. She'd come to understand a lot about Root over the past week, from her faith in the machine, to her feelings. She found that if situations were reversed, she'd feel the same about losing Root. So she just grinned at the other woman as she spoke her feelings openly for the first time.
"I love you too, Root."
They all still had a long way to go before this loss would stop hurting. Shaw, in particular, was surprised to find that it actually stung her quite a bit. They would each have to come to terms with it in their own time. Finch might bury himself in his work, ignore the machine for a while, then slowly begin to move on. Against Root and Harold's wishes, Shaw would probably hunt down any of the remaining members of the Anarchy Council in a bid at revenge. Violence was always the best way to grieve, in her mind.
And Root.
Much like Finch, Root would try to find a way to distract herself from the pain of loss.
All of that aside, they still faced a challenge. The attack on the Pentagon had succeeded despite Reese's best efforts. They all knew that they would no doubt be left to pick up the slack of a momentarily weakened defense from their place in the shadows. But, as grueling as the road ahead would be, one thing was certain:
Something good had come of this mess.
Root watched with a questioning gaze as Shaw stepped away from her. She ignored Fusco and Harold's comments and questions as she went over to the cabinet beneath the desk where she knew Harold kept the top shelf liquor. Root watched after her, not needing the machine in her ear to tell her what Shaw was doing.
Shaw procured six glasses, filling two and sitting them side by side on the desk before filling the rest and handing them out. The two glasses remained as a tribute to their fallen friends.
Carter. Reese.
Two people who lived to protect others.
Each loss was just as bitter as the other.
Root eyed the two glasses curiously. She'd heard a bit about Carter in the time since being released from the cage. She'd come to learn that Carter's was the death the Machine had first warned her of when Harold had stubbornly insisted on keeping her locked up. She suspected he still blamed himself for it. No doubt he would blame himself for Reese, as well. She smiled sadly at the thought, toying with the glass in her hand.
Just another Dillinger.
After a few moments of silence, Shaw looked to Finch expectantly. He raised his glass and the other three followed suit. He spoke with a voice that did little to hide the tears he was keeping at bay.
"To John."
Well damn, I killed Reese...Or did I? You'll have to wait until after the weekend to find out! As always, I hope you enjoyed it! Please R & R!