003.

"If you had a single flaw, you just could not last forever, could you? You just could not last for me."

iii. SHAW

Time moves too slow. She is left standing in the street with nothing but static in her ear, repeating Root's name into the phone despite knowing that she'll never get an answer. (It's too permanent. Root was a constant and suddenly Shaw can feel herself reeling off balance.) Fusco calls and John watches her fall apart stoically without a word; empty eyes on a blank face but she's felt this pain before. This time, it hurts.

She spends a week off the grid and resurfaces on a rusted roundabout where she lets the kids spin her for hours. The skin behind her ear gets rubbed raw, and she's never wanted anything more than to see Greer's grinning face telling her to start the simulation again. She vomits that night and blames the spinning, but she knows better. There was only one person on the planet who had the ability to make her do things she could never do before. She spends that night (and the next, and the next) on her couch, clutching a familiar jacket and refusing to let herself sleep.

The first time she goes back to the subway, she considers vomiting again. Instead, she buries her face in Bear's fur and tries to ignore everything that screams of Root. (She doesn't last long. She never could deny Root attention.) The hacker's room is purple and so very her that she almost doubts that Root is gone at all. She wonders how many nights Root spent here; how many nights Root spent in a dilapidated subway car staring at a screen blinking her name. (She spends a week sleeping on that bed, Bear at her feet and Root in her head.)

Time moves too slow but the world has never waited for catch up. The numbers are still coming and there's a war to fight, and John's not much on his own. His pleading gaze reminds her of Root; of losing someone you thought you could live without, but being so horribly wrong. Shaw picks up her weapon and takes her new identity, ignoring a bespectacled man who disappears three days later and following John out the door. Harold had never been her priority. Shaw blames him for her.

Root has been dead for twenty three days when John finally tells her to stop. Shaw has just put a bullet through a man's head and John is the most animated she's seen him since her return. "Shaw, you need to stop killing everyone. We can't keep leaving bodies for Fusco to get rid of. This isn't our job."

"Then what is?" Shaw's voice is sharp and loud, and she jams her gun into her waistband. "The Machine is dying and Harold's gone, we don't have a fucking job. I made a promise that I'd take down Samaritan one agent at a time, and I sure as hell will. You want to keep saving people, John. Fine. Don't pull me down with you." When she'd returned, Root was the only one that could pull words out of her. This is the most she's said in weeks and she feels herself reeling again. The pity in John's eyes disgusts her, but she lets him accompany her back to the subway.

Dusk falls and there's no new numbers or news on Harold. Shaw sits on the floor of Root's makeshift room, in the corner of her bed and the wall. She disassembles and reassembles her gun; the gun that Root had ended up with after all had gone to hell at the stock exchange. Her thoughts are stained with high heeled boots and leather jackets, flirty two-eyed winks and brown hair that smelled distinctly Root, even when she used Shaw's shampoo. (It was kind of endearing, really, the way Root had carried around what small parts of Shaw she could.)

She's not sure what makes her do it. (There's one reason, really, the same one as before.) Something about how Root's absence makes her chest hurt and her head pound, and as much as Shaw swore she hated the hacker, she really didn't. Root's presence was something Shaw had gone from loathing to missing to enjoying, and she was missing it again. She thinks of that night in Samaritan's compound; how close she'd come to ending it right then. She could have, would have, if it wasn't for Root. But there was no four alarm fire coming to save her this time.

She presses the muzzle of the gun to her temple (it feels like seven thousand deaths are hidden heavy in the metal) and wonders how hard (how easy) it would be to pull the trigger.

Just another failed simulation, another tally on the deaths she's died for Root.

Shaw sees crooked grins and hears hey sweetie and thinks this won't be painful at all.

Her eyes slip closed and her finger's on the trigger (this is how she ended seven thousand lives, to save seven thousand fake Roots). Bear barks and suddenly there's a hand on hers, pulling at the gun and yelling her name. Her eyes fly open and she fights back, but John's got the advantage and she's forced to let go. Shaw collapses against the bed and John watches; aghast, confused, concerned.

Seconds crawl like minutes before he sighs, "Shaw, what the hell were you thinking?" His soft voice is agitated, it's how he cares – she can see it in the frown on his forehead and the deep-seated fear in his eyes.

"I could've been with her." The words, like her voice, are pathetic and weak. Something sappy and sad that Root would've whined to John, not her. Shaw shuts her eyes against John's pity, but it's evident even in the way he sighs her name.

"Shaw. Nothing's gonna bring Root back. You know that."

"That's what you think." Some hard determination that had been lacking since Root's death slices through Shaw's voice. She clamors to her feet, eyes cold, hand extended. "Give me that. I have an ASI to go talk to."

XXX

If there was one good decision Harold had made about the Machine, at least in Shaw's mind, it was leaving the system open like Root wanted when he ditched them. She approaches the screens slowly, gun in hand, and they come to life at her presence. She presses an earpiece into her ear and waits. (John had told her of Her new voice. She thinks she's ready for the shockwave.)

"Nice to see you, sweetie."

(She was wrong.)

The way She says sweetie is all wrong; that 0.4 percent of Root She couldn't download must've included her personality (her love). Either way, the 99.6 percent of Root hidden in that voice squeezes the oxygen out of her lungs and Shaw forces it back in.

"I need your help."

"What are we doing?"

For a minute, Shaw considers walking away. She has no guarantee the Machine will be able to do what she's planning. But it means Root. Root, and life. She inhales, exhales, and states, "I need you to build me simulations. Like Samaritan. But this time, do it so I can save your – save her life."

The Machine goes quiet and Shaw can't help but cringe at her slip up. "What you're proposing," She finally drawls in Shaw's ear, "sounds impossible."

"No it's not. The world is just a simulation, right? A combination of variables you play with all day. You've created simulations for everything; for us, for the war. Who says you can't change how Root's story ends?" Shaw thinks her heart stops a little when she forces the name out of her mouth.

"Changing the ending is hard when it has already happened," the Machine says, like it's simple. "To fix Samantha Groves' life would mean changing everything. This future would cease to exist. The whole world would change depending on how you manage to save her life."

"So you're agreeing?" She ignores the use of Root's full name and the desperation that bleeds into her voice.

An un-Root-like hum fills Shaw's ear. "I don't agree with what you're trying to do, but something tells me I don't have a choice." At least She'd gained Root's ability to know when Shaw wasn't fucking around. "You should understand the dangers. You've been through simulations before, at deep cost to your mental stability. I'll have to run thousands, maybe even millions of these. Every possible path. Some may be trashed before you ever see them. If you save her, time will reset accordingly. If not, this future remains when you leave. I will do my best, but this is ultimately up to you, Sameen."

Shaw nods once. "Let's do this." She grabs some wires and with the materials she has, makes the closest replica of what Samaritan used, minus the glasses. As long as the Machine can get into her head, that's as far as she'll go.

She attaches the leads to her temples and waits. "See you on the other side, sweetie," the Machine whispers, and everything goes black.

XXX

[ SIM 1 ]

She wakes up warm. Bear is snoring at her feet and there's an arm flung around her waist, and for a second Sameen Shaw forgets to breathe. She rolls over and there's Root, sleeping but breathing and alive. The backstory of how this simulation came to be is fuzzy, but Shaw doesn't care. She pokes Root awake and sits up, stomach growling. (She leaves with Bear and returns with food, and seeing Root sleeping again makes her smile. She wonders when she got so sappy.)

Root is as clingy and annoying as Shaw remembers, fawning over the agent and flirting like her life depends on it. (Funny, how it almost does.) Shaw revels in this familiar feeling, letting Root's touch remind her of the twenty three days she's been without it.

They're leaving for the safe house when Root grins and wraps her arms around Shaw. She would have shoved the hacker off before, but now she lets her be.

(She would have died to get this back.)

XXX

They get Harold back under a hail of bullets, and Shaw knows it's time to make their escape. She tells Root to go, she'll cover them, but Root's screaming that she won't leave her behind again and Shaw remembers when this happened the first time. Root's eyes are begging, so Shaw fires three more times and runs to the car, pulling Root in behind her. She shoves the car in gear and speeds away, promising to take the bullet when it comes.

Samaritan is on their heels, a black Suburban trailing their small car that Shaw's driving as fast as she can. Beside her, Root ties up her hair and grabs a gun, and before Shaw can tell her to get down, something explodes. Root plops back into her seat with a grin on her face, and Shaw almost laughs at the burning car behind them.

"You're an idiot, Root."

"Well it worked, didn't it?" So smug and happy.

They return to streets lined with buildings, and Shaw keeps an eye out for snipers. That stupid Van Gogh knock off isn't getting the jump on them this time, and she tells Root to watch too. Shaw turns a corner and there, she knows the location like the back of her hand. (She spent too long staring at the city maps, memorizing the spot where she wasn't there for Root.) She turns down a side street before he can get off a shot, and breathes a little easier when Root starts flirting again.

Eyes flitting between Root and the road, a faint smile on her face, Shaw sees the car too late. Their misguided painter must have called for backup, and before she can yell, they're being shot at. She and Root get off a few rounds when a bullet hits a tire and the car goes spinning.

When she opens her eyes, they're upside down and her head is throbbing. She pulls herself out of the window and crawls to the other side of the car. Harold sits against the car, terrified. There's blood running down Shaw's face but it doesn't matter; she finds Root and pulls her leather clad body out of the wreckage.

Half a smile is still frozen on her face. Shaw forgets how to breathe.

"Miss Shaw…" Harold's voice pulls her away, away from staring at Root's empty eyes and immobile body. (She had come back to protect her. The simulation failed.)

"No, no, this is wrong." Harold frowns but Shaw ignores him, instead searches the street for a camera. "This is wrong!" she screams at it, at Her. "Start the simulation over, this one doesn't work!"

There's nothing but static in her earpiece and her mind starts spinning. Her hand is on her gun before she can even think it through and wonders if that's the answer. It always stopped Samaritan. The Machine can't keep a simulation alive in her head if she's dead.

She raises the gun and pulls the trigger before Harold can yell her name. (She died seven thousand times like this.)

For a minute everything is black. She wakes up wheezing.

The screens in front of her are covered in code and messages she doesn't understand. One of them flashes red, SIM 1 DISCARDED. The Machine angry in her ear, "That was stupid, Sameen." She doesn't care. She knows how simulations play.

She turns in her chair and finds John watching her, brows furrowed. "How long was I out?" she asks, and he approaches her slowly.

"It was quick, just a few seconds." He stares at the screen with concern. "What are you even—"

"I'm playing the game, John. Finding the right path."

He scoffs, "You're playing God, that's what you're doing. I don't think Harold would approve."

"Well Harold's the reason Root's dead, plus he's not here right now, so I don't give a fuck what he thinks." His fault, her fault, everything blurs together.

"Do you even know what you're doing?" The screen blinks again, SIM 2 DISCARDED. You were kids, the Machine tells her. Too many variables.

Shaw adjusts her position in the chair, staring down John. She plunges into the third simulation and is back before he has moved. (She died too early that time, protecting Root from Greer.)

"Finding a way to get Root back."