A/N: Thanks for reading :) I hope you'll enjoy this chapter!
She listened carefully, trying to figure out with how many they were. She could distinguish at least three different voices, taking into account that there might be more of them, people that didn't speak up or that she mistook for having the same voice. Not that Sameen Shaw ever made such mistakes.
But, just to make sure, she tentatively peered around the corner, seeing four guards there: three huddled together, apparently discussing something Shaw couldn't make out, and the other was standing away a few feet, leaning against the wall casually, looking around like he was on watch, and in Shaw's opinion, doing a terrible job at that.
She quickly concocted the less flawed plan to take them all out without actually murdering them, concluding that it would be a tad easier than with the five guards minutes earlier. There was one guard less this time, but contrary to the previous time, they weren't all standing close together. It would give the secluded guard enough time to duck away, but only if he had a good response time. However, aiming for the singular guard first would alarm the other three, and would create an even bigger problem for Shaw.
One that she wouldn't always try to avoid, but in this situation she didn't have that much ammo to spare and she had the suspicion that leaving Root alone with trouble for too long would be a bad idea. Especially with the erratic behavior she had showed that day.
And so Shaw found herself taking aim for the kneecaps of her three unknowing victims, and shot them smoothly, in one swift motion. Well, it wasn't so smooth for the guards, who were moaning and groaning in pain, frantically reaching for their blown kneecaps with their hands as if that could stop the pain somehow. But like Shaw had predicted, the fourth one got away. She wasn't quick enough and by the time she wanted to aim for the other guy, he had ducked behind the wall, seemingly better prepared than Shaw initially figured he'd be.
She found cover behind her own wall, pushing herself against it and waiting for the bullet spray, but nothing happened and there was no indication that anything was going to happen. She waited for twenty seconds, just to be sure, but when she didn't hear anything, she decided it was time to take a look; investigate the premise. With her gun still lifted, she tentatively tip-toed in the direction she presumed the guard had fled in. On her way, she kicked away the guns that had dropped when the other guards had reached for them while Shaw had shot them.
They didn't seem too happy with Shaw's presence, and that she was planning on going after – what Shaw assumed to be – their coworker. But then again, Shaw didn't care. She had a mission, and they just happened to be in her way. She had crossed the hall and finally reached the corner she had last seen the guard, but when she took a peek in the hallway, it was empty.
She felt suspicion creep up again. She was wary of the situation, finding that something was off about it. As if it were a trap and she was about to walk right into it. But Shaw had found herself in more perilous situations, and she was still breathing. Alive and kicking ass. The irony was, that she had always felt more alive in these situations rather than the safe ones. When she could feel the adrenaline flow through her veins, tightening her muscles, ready for action.
Her heart was beating in her throat, her senses on high alert, but that didn't faze her. Shaw didn't bend for emotions, or any signs of fear. She didn't know fear. She knew anger, and she knew that whoever was going to surprise her, would meet the other end of her wrath. She wouldn't kill, just inflict. But she exactly knew where to shoot to cause the most pain; even if it didn't end up killing her unfortunate victim.
But she couldn't find the guard that had fled. Instead, she found something else, walking in on a situation she didn't want to walk into. Less than anything else. Root, face to face with an armed man, pushed back up against the wall. He had his gun pressed against her forehead, undeniably ready to blow her brains out. But the thing that appalled her the most was Root's lack of recoil.
Root was just standing there.. Looking at the man she would undoubtedly be able to take out in a few swift moves, just like Shaw had taught her. Shaw had seen her do it before. Hell, she had even been able to take down Shaw in some of their sparring sessions, even though Shaw didn't like to admit that. So why wasn't she fighting back? Instead of leaning into the wall as if it could swallow her any moment, or rather that moment. As if that were the whole purpose of it all along.
Shaw heard the man cock his rifle, being instantly aware of the fact that something could happen any moment. However, his hands were shaking, and Shaw, who had been slowly sneaking up on the two of them, saw the opportunity to disarm him, and twist his arm behind his back. She half-expected Root to throw a punch while she held him in one of her so preferred choke-holds, but nothing happened.
Root just kept leaning against the wall, her face pale as those very walls. Her eyes as empty as the hallways that were just vacated. At least, that was what Shaw figured it looked like. She had no idea of what it was that Root was feeling in that moment, and she silently cursed herself for not understanding emotions. So she did the thing she knew. The thing the situation screamed for.
"Root." Shaw said sternly, dropping the now unconscious man carelessly and gripping the collar of Root's jacket. "Move." When she didn't earn a response, she opted for a more drastic method. She grabbed the dazed woman's hand and dragged her down the hallway she thought was the one closest to the exit. The one that would get them out of this mess, so she could spend some time throwing books at Root.
"If you're not telling us where to go.." Shaw huffed, Root right behind her, not really having much of a choice with Shaw's coercion. "You're going to get us killed." But then Shaw realized Root's own demise wouldn't do much to persuade her to fight, to get them out of this death trap. "You're going to get me killed."
That seemed to snap Root out of the trance she was in, her gaze snapping up at Shaw, staring with glazed eyes, and never saying a word. However, Shaw sensed Root was now tugging Shaw's hand instead of the other way around, taking over control from Shaw. It was her turn to guide them to safety.
Shaw felt awfully whipped in that moment, her hand still in the other woman's, and it embarrassed herself to no ends. She didn't do handholding. She didn't do cozy. Fire in an oil refinery was her cozy. Hot and harsh, rough and rash. She didn't do cuddling or other awkward displays of affection that she didn't know what to do with. That she just didn't get on an emotional level.
But shooting bad guys and escaping from impossible situations was something she did do. And in that moment it just happened to be Root by her side. She just happened to be holding her hand. It had nothing to do with romance or whatever the hell it was between them. It had nothing to do with displays of affection. She knew Root did a lot of things to grate on her nerves or annoy her, but this wasn't one of them. The pressing urge that came with them getting out of a building full of people that wanted to capture them, or possibly even dead.
It had nothing to do with.. feelings.
Feelings. The word left a bitter taste in Shaw's mouth. She had never given the concept a second thought. Not even a first thought. It was just something that didn't occur to her that could happen. Never had had them before. It was something she didn't do. It was easier that way, because hell if she knew how to deal with them. Feelings. She almost cringed at the word, a chill running up her spine. Just thinking about the possibility that she was having feelings for Root was a big no for Shaw. Adding ten exclamation marks.
No, feelings were not her thing. Except hate and anger of course. Anger was easy. Shooting a few people was easy. Everything else was just messy and off-limits. No, Sameen Shaw didn't do feelings. She didn't care for people.
Or did she?
Just not as strong as other people, perhaps. Well, surely. But she cared for a few people. A handful of people she'd go through hell and back to protect, keep safe and never let anyone lay a hand on. Even – or maybe specifically then – if those people didn't seem to care about their own safety too much. Not that she would admit that aloud. She was hardly able to admit to herself that there were people in her life she didn't want to die.
But people like Michael Cole and Genrika Zhirova – and later Root – had made her realize that she wasn't just cold and emotionless; a robot like some people called it. Especially Root had. The woman that kept flirting with her just to piss her off to the point where it wasn't just a joke anymore. To the point that it didn't annoy Shaw as much as it used to do so, even if she still tried to pretend it did. To the point where Root had been in trouble so deeply that she was going to get herself killed, and Shaw rode a bike all the way through the city to Root, just to save her. And more events like these had occurred.
So the fact was that Sameen Shaw did care.
She cared enough to do those things. She would follow Root into lots of danger, always ready to deflect the reason being that she cared. Shaw thrived on danger, and she'd always use it as her excuse to opt in favor of situations that made her heart race that happened to involve backing up Root, or even saving her. But she didn't necessarily follow Root into fights and mayhem because of that thrill. She was awfully aware of that fact. But that didn't mean other people should know about that. Preferably not, if it were up to Shaw.
No, if it were up to Shaw, she'd try to erase all knowledge she had acquired over the time. She'd try and forget about everything, just assigning it to the excitement and rush she felt whenever she was on missions with Root; nothing else. Everything beyond that was just too complicated. Something Shaw couldn't fathom. It was unfamiliar and undiscovered territory Shaw had no interest in walking in. And with no interest she also meant that she felt the opposite of comfortable by the idea alone.
But here she found herself, contemplating a subject that made her mind bring up so many objections and contradictions that she didn't know what to do with them. She didn't know which conclusions to draw or if she even could do that. Hell, she didn't even know if she wanted to. It wouldn't make a difference anyway.
Before she could resume her train of thoughts, she got brutally yanked out of it by gunshots, immediately sagging her knees to lower herself, tugging Root down with her. They had been walking through a hallway, straight as a ruler, and so they had no way to look for cover but just making themselves small.
Root didn't seem to respond to the shots, though, so Shaw threw her flat against the floor, attempting to cover her with her own body as much as she could, almost laying on top of the woman as she started to fire shots at their opponents. But Root still didn't do anything, even though she still had a gun and – Shaw assumed she hadn't used any of the bullets she had had before they split up – seven rounds to use. She just laid there, frozen in place. If Shaw had to guess, she was having some sort of panic or anxiety attack.
Which she found odd, because Root never had panic or anxiety attacks. Root thrived on danger, just like Shaw. She didn't freeze during attacks, she riddled her enemies with bullets, preferably while wielding two guns. In this case she only had seven bullets, which made it impossible to exactly do that, but this reaction was quite the opposite from it. It was almost as if Root didn't want to fight back.
Which happened to be one of the reasons that Root wasn't fighting back. But not the main one.
If Shaw had had the time, she would have worried over the woman beneath her, but she had to protect the two of them, while trying not to empty her last clip of bullets in one shoot-out just yet. And since Root wasn't going to do anything to get them out of this situation, she had to come up with an escape plan as well.
So she grabbed Root's wrist and squeezed. "Root." She urged, trying to get Root's head back in the game. "Root." She said somewhat louder, her grasp a little stronger, shaking lightly. "We need to get away." Her brain faltered when it tried to come up with a greater incentive, one that would spur Root onto action for sure. "Please." She sighed, knowing very well it was a futile attempt but going for it nonetheless.
Another four gunshots resounded through the halls and then everything was quiet, earning raised eyebrows from Shaw. She looked up in the direction the opponents had been shooting from, but failed so see a thing. No movements. Just quietness.
This situation raised red flags in every other way, but Shaw decided she cared more about escaping than contemplating. Whatever it was that caused the attackers to quit shooting, it was a gift wrapped in flashy ribbons, and in that moment, Shaw wanted to take it with both hands, all too greedily, even though she was suspicious of what it contained.
She would deal with that later. Even if it were a trap, it was a way to push back their seemingly feasible demise a few minutes further, and she would handle the potential consequences their actions would have later. When she was sure there wasn't going to be gunfire anytime soon, she scrambled up, placing her gun behind her waistband, tucking it away for later use. She wasn't certain if it were safe enough to disarm herself like that, but from the looks of it, Shaw could tell Root wasn't going to haul her sorry ass from the floor by herself.
So Shaw did. She kneeled, flipping her over, facing the woman. She was just staring at the ceiling, her eyes devoid of any emotion. At first, Shaw thought she was dead, her blood running cold in her veins, but when the woman stirred – luckily, she was still breathing – she realized it was a false scare. Then her eyes averted to the woman's shot wound, the one she had taken care of with duct tape, and she spotted the open wound. It had started bleeding again.
Shaw figured she must have put too much pressure on Root's body while she was giving her cover, allowing the wound to bleed harder and harder. She lifted Root, checking for the amount of blood she'd lost. When she saw the red stain on the floor, and even moreso the blood that was seeping into her shirt that was leaving an even bigger stain, she knew something was wrong. She knew the wound was worse than she'd initially thought, or maybe hoped.
She squeezed Root's shoulder, trying to earn a response, or anything really. Just to know it wasn't too late yet. Just something to give her hope. She pressed on the wound, pushing as hard as she could. Root's eyes fluttered, and a moan escaped her mouth. Shaw sighed in relief, but she didn't dare to sigh too hard. Just because she was still breathing, didn't mean she'd survive.
Her hand found Root's forehead, finding it cold and sweaty, and she let it slide down her skin to her neck, gently pressing her fingers to her pulse point. She counted the beats as she looked at the time on her watch, concluding that her heart rate was too irregular, but fast and weak. Which meant that Root was likely getting into shock.
Which meant that she needed to get her to a hospital quickly.
But she reminded herself that she couldn't. No hospitals. If the guards were to pursue them, their first stop would be the hospital. Root had lost a lot of blood, and it showed those exact signs on the floor, so it wouldn't take long for them to jump to the conclusion that at least Root, perhaps Shaw too, would be hiding out in the hospital. Or so that would be Shaw's first guess.
However, it wasn't like Sameen Shaw hadn't studied medicine in order to never use it.