Root hailed a cab and headed to the address the Machine had given her. She arrived at the club and walked in the entrance, immediately spotting Shaw at the bar. And her fragile composure shattered in the few seconds she took in the scene. Clamping a steely control over her features she headed for the ladies room, entered a stall and spent several minutes composing herself.
Tomas- it was him, again. Months ago, she thought she had overcome his influence on Shaw, he'd gone to Barcelona, and Shaw stayed behind with her and the team. Now it appeared that he was back and Shaw and him were, were… something. His hand was so far up her dress, he should have been a doctor and she was laughing and encouraging him- at least it appeared that way.
Deciding to head into the bar and face the issue head on, Root headed back out of the ladies' room. As she approached the bar, their seats had emptied. Looking around she noticed Tomas closing the door of a cab and walking around to the other side. As he climbed in, Root saw Shaw sitting in the back. She turned toward Tomas, smiling, then looked back at the club.
Root spun around, hiding her face, but not before she thought Shaw might have seen her. Waiting until she was sure the cab was gone, she left the bar and wandered aimlessly through the New York evening, her humiliation complete.
….
Shaw walked out of the hotel feeling dirty. You didn't do anything wrong. She hailed a cab and gave the driver Root's address. She couldn't get the feeling out of her mind that she'd seen Root as they were leaving the club, and that feeling spoiled the entire encounter with Tomas. At least that was what she thought.
Images swirled through her mind as she replayed the entire evening with him. Yes he was hot- no question about it. But there was something off the entire time, and the more she thought about it the more she realized what was wrong. It was Root- or more accurately, when she was in the club, in the cab and in the hotel, it wasn't Root.
Shaw couldn't shake the feeling all night long that the wrong person was sitting next to her, riding in the cab with her, riding up in the elevator with her and slamming her into the wall of the hotel room. Hot as he was, she couldn't get Root out of her mind. And now here she was, headed over to Root's apartment with no idea what she was doing.
Idiot! You always know what you're doing. You always have a plan. So why are you going there? What's the plan?
As she closed the cab's door and headed up the steps toward the entrance to Root's building, she realized it was almost midnight. With no idea what she was getting in to, she rang Root's bell. After the third ring went unanswered, she picked the lock and let herself into the building.
The door to Root's apartment stayed shut, even though Shaw had knocked several times. She finally pulled out her phone and as she was about to call, she noticed the text Root had sent hours ago. Realizing how angry Root probably was at being 'stood up', Shaw almost turned to leave. Something turned her back to the door and she picked it expertly and entered.
She saw the table, still set for dinner, with the candles burned about halfway down before they were extinguished. She could still smell the faint odor of cooking, and in spite of herself she felt hungry. She called Root's name, but received no answer, which she expected. She didn't think Root was here but wanted to check to make sure.
The bedroom was empty but the light was still on in the bathroom. Entering it, Shaw could see that it looked like someone had been sick in there. There were traces of something on the edge of the toilet and the seat was up. Since there was no indication of a male visitor, Shaw concluded that something had made Root sick.
Her stomach churned with the thought that it could have been her. There were tissues stained black by what appeared to be mascara lying haphazardly by the sink. As Shaw looked around, she tried to recreate what had transpired.
Her conclusion was something upset Root so much she was physically ill, then cleaned herself up and left. She couldn't shake the feeling that she was responsible for this. Not knowing what to do she returned to the living room and paced for several minutes. She tried once more to call Root and when the call went unanswered she decided to give up and go home.
As she was closing the door, she had an idea. Reentering Root's apartment, she went into her bedroom and walked to the nightstand by her bed. Picking up Root's laptop, she determined that it was only in sleep mode, not off. Waking the computer, she looked into the webcam.
"I know you're looking and listening. I need to know where she is."
After a minute or so, she repeated her question and added, "Please."
Nothing. Sighing, Shaw closed the laptop and headed for the apartment door. As she was closing the door behind her, her phone vibrated. It was an address texted from a blocked number.
Shaw didn't recognize the address, but knew the area was filled with clubs, some of which catered to those with unsavory tastes in many different areas. Hailing another cab, Shaw gave the address to the driver and sat back, lost in thought.
