"You have a letter from John." Root dropped it into her lap as she passed.

As if she ever got letters from anyone else that weren't bills. Of course, it was from John. Shaw was quick to tear it open. As always, he was a man of few words. Everything he had to say fit on a single sheet of paper. Shaw wasn't disappointed, but she did wish she really knew how he was doing. Just because she suspected he would do well with military life didn't mean he actually was. And unlike her, he did get lonely. She made a mental note to write him back later.

"How's he doing?"

Shaw glanced up at the question. She'd told Root little about her only friend, more for her sake than his. But of course, Root likely also knew more about that than she let on. Shaw was always very wary when talking about him.

"Fine."

"That's it? Fine?"

Shaw rolled her eyes. "That's literally what he said. Only with a few more words. He hasn't...told me much. About how it's been for him."

"Is he as stoic as you?" Root asked cautiously.

Shaw glanced over to where she stood at the counter, chopping vegetables. "More," she answered after a moment. "We're similar, I guess. But he's less angry and better with people."

Root smiled. "I'm kind of envisioning a male-you right now."

He kind of was, on the inside, at least. Only, he had real emotions. He just didn't let them out much. Where Shaw felt little and showed even less, John felt everything he was supposed to and simply kept a tight rein on all of it.

"You two are close." This one wasn't a question. "Known him all your life?"

Shaw hesitated. This was exactly the kind of personal stuff she didn't want Root knowing. But almost eight months into living together, and Root hadn't used anything she knew about Shaw against her. While Shaw suspected she might know anything – possibly everything - from her history with John to her dad's death to her juvie record, Root never said a word. They were just...things that she knew.

"No. We met on a study abroad thing. He was searching and I was waiting for college. We got a place together after that, and he worked while I went to school."

"Has he always wanted to go into the army?"

"He's still searching," Shaw answered vaguely.

"I know what that's like." Root didn't elaborate on that, but Shaw was tempted to ask. She didn't care too much about the inner workings of other people, but for some reason, she kept finding herself asking Root questions. Already she knew more about her than she did about John Reese, and she'd known him almost ten times as long. "But maybe they'll give him a place to belong."

"That's what he needs. Structure." Shaw had long since stopped being resentful of his leaving. It might have left her in a rut, but she truly believed it was the best move for him.

"I'm sorry all you have is letters. That seems hard."

"Letters are enough. We don't talk much."

Root let it rest for a moment before saying anything else. She wasn't pushing, but she definitely wasn't dropping it. Not as long as Shaw was answering, that is. "Is he your only close friend?"

Shaw was pretty sure Root wouldn't judge her for it, but it still felt weird to confirm it. Like pointing out that something was wrong with her, in case Root hadn't noticed. Cause everyone else sure did. "Only friend."

"Oh, thanks."

It took Shaw a moment to realize that Root was expressing offense. Were they friends? She glanced over again. Did Root consider them friends? The idea surprised her. Not that it was a bad thing; it wasn't. But she didn't make friends. Root was her roommate. She needed her, and so she tolerated her.

Didn't she? They talked, sometimes, like this. Little spurts, tiny insights into each other. They shared meals and drinks and the occasional movie night. They partied together, went dancing, helped each other hook-up.

Shaw supposed, in that case, they kind of were friends. She hadn't even noticed that happening. How odd.

But Root had already moved on. While Shaw was staring at her in surprise and confusion, she continued, "That's good. Never been good at making friends myself, but I believe everyone should have one person they can really count on." She checked the oven, pressed a couple of buttons. When she turned back around she added, "Someone's gotta be there to bail you out of jail, you know?"

"Stop suggesting I'm gonna kill someone."

Root threw a towel at her. "I meant me, you selfish bitch."

Shaw laughed and threw the towel back, which Root caught neatly.

"So...there's no one for you? No one from your past?"

Root hands lost their rhythm for a second as she worked. She kept her eyes down. It took her a moment to answer, a moment in which Shaw considered getting really pissed, because she was answering Root's questions all nice and civil. Finally, she said, "I used to. Not anymore."

Shaw wasn't sure if this was one of those moments in which one was supposed to apologize. She didn't see why, but she rarely understood apologies in any circumstance. Instead, she said, "Guess you have me now." And when Root beamed at her, she was glad she hadn't tried to bother with words she didn't understand.

"John...never cared." She fiddled with the edge of the label on her beer, unsure why she was even voicing this. "That I'm not like other people. He didn't expect me to become like them, or respond like them. He just let me be me."

"He sounds like a good man," Root said, just as softly. "Maybe someday I can meet him."

Shaw wasn't sure how she felt about that. Would they like each other? What if they didn't? What if John thought she should get a new roommate? What if Root thought he was overprotective and annoying? Well, Shaw did, too, sometimes. But whatever. What if they did like each other?

Strangely, that made her even more worried.

Root finished getting dinner ready to put in the oven and came over to sit next to Shaw. This unexpected talk about friendships seemed to be done and she was glad. Cause now she was second-guessing trying to get John to come and visit when he could. She suspected she might regret it, though she couldn't put her finger on why.

They waited for dinner in companionable silence. For all of her chatter when she got going, Root could be perfectly comfortable saying nothing at all. Shaw felt safe to say that it was the one thing about Root she genuinely liked, wholly and completely.

But curiosity got the better of her during dinner, and she finally voiced what she'd been waiting to ask for weeks. "How are classes?"

Root beamed again, thrilled to be asked, apparently. Shaw knew she was excited to finally be getting a college experience, but it still took her aback how much. Nerd.

"Great! I mean, the kids are, well, idiotic kids, and out of three professors, one is a bitch and the other two are kind of lazy. But that's not why I'm taking the classes, so I've decided not to care."

Decided not to care? Must be nice.

"Someday, you have to reveal your secret as to how you got around the prerequisites."

Root leaned forward with a smile on her lips. "I'm kind of good with computers."

Shaw kicked her under the table, which just made her laugh.

"Really, though, I'm enjoying them."

"Wait until they give you homework," Shaw muttered.

Root kept on like she hadn't spoken. "This was the best idea. I'm so glad you suggested it."

Shaw had no idea what had possessed her. She knew Root hadn't gone to college, found out she'd really wanted to, and one night, after too many beers, had suggested she should do just that. She was living in a state with some of the best schools in the country. And as she'd told Shaw the day they met, she was planning to stick around for awhile. So why not? Better later than never. Apparently, the idea had never occurred to Root. Shaw had suspected as much, if she moved around as often as she'd implied. But talking about it had seemed to excite her, and the next thing Shaw knew, Root was signed up for classes in the coming semester. Now they both had schedules to adhere to.

They weren't in the same school, of course. And Root wasn't going for a higher degree just yet, though Shaw wouldn't put it past her. They would see if she was still enjoying school this much come the end of the first semester, or at least the first year. Her enthusiasm might have dimmed a bit.

Shaw's certainly had. It wasn't the work that was the problem, though it was certainly grueling. She liked to be challenged, though. It was why she'd raced ahead to finish high school a year early. Just to see if she could. But the farther along she got in her education, the more her personality disorder got in the way. In high school, no one cared so long as she got good grades. She was an easy student and kept to herself. In college, people noticed a little bit more; that was due in part to the sheer number of students that came to school just to party. Since Shaw didn't let loose and have fun the way they did, she stood out. But most of her professors didn't care, once again, so long as she was a good student. She'd done an internship between rounds of education, and that had been so very different from her books. Not because of the work itself so much, but the people. Her coworkers wanted nothing to do with her, which she was fine with, but her supervisor also seemed wary of her. And that was a problem. How could she work under someone who was always giving her second glances?

Med school was another bump. The students were more serious now, and she wasn't just a threat to them because she was smart and hard-working. No, she was a threat to them because she wasn't caught up in the emotions they were plagued by, the anger and jealousy and fear. And it gave her an edge. Plus, none of them liked her. Her professors still appreciated that she was a good student, but were happy when she moved on from their class.

If she was already seeing problems from defects she couldn't help having, what was her internship going to look like? Those were already designed to be hell. As they had to be, to weed out the weak. But they also sent you up for your residency, which set you up for your career. And how was she supposed to build a career and a name for herself if her coworkers hated her, sabotaged her, badmouthed her, and authority figures wanted to latch an ankle monitor onto her?

Shaw wasn't worried about it, per se. Worry didn't come naturally to her. But it was a concern. From a logical perspective, she knew it might bite her more fully later. Right now she was just getting a taste of it. Like warning nips from an anxious dog. She knew how to calm a dog. She didn't know how she was going to get through the most intense part of her medical training. And it was on her mind more and more as she got closer to the reality.

The weirdest part, though, wasn't people's overreactions. She didn't care about that. No, it was her own desire to tell Root. Twice now she'd caught herself wanting to talk about it with her. As if Root would solve it, or somehow make her...feel better? Shaw wasn't sure. Whatever subconscious urge had her trying to bring it up, it needed to shut up. Just because things were going well with the roommate thing didn't mean she needed to start pouring her heart out.

Tomas seemed to notice her mood at work the next day. And she most definitely did not want to tell a virtual stranger what her dilemma was.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," he backtracked when she got irritated. "You just seem...melancholy. And I hate to see such a beautiful woman melancholy." He smiled charmingly.

Shaw couldn't help smiling back. "I'm not melancholy. It's just...school," she fumbled. "You know, gets harder every year." She almost winced at her dumb, vague answer.

"My sympathies. I can't even imagine. My brains got me as far as passing calculus, and only just barely. Only the real geniuses make it to med school."

She had to force this smile. He would likely be amazed at how many people faked their way through. Or had rich daddies who bought their grades. But she didn't tell him that.

"You know, maybe I can put a smile on your face. Outside of work."

Shaw tensed. Was he asking her out? She kind of hoped so, but choosing to continue this job on top of schooling had stopped her from making any moves. She really didn't think sleeping with a coworker was a smart long-term plan. Nonetheless, the interest was still there. When Tomas had asked her to stay on part-time, she'd agreed immediately, in as much as her schedule allowed. Partly to pad her limited savings, partly so she could keep looking at him twice a week.

"I have experience with almost every gun in this shop. There's a shooting range, downtown, ever been?" Shaw shook her head. "I like to go on my days off, let off some steam. You want to come?"

Shaw brightened. "Hell yeah."

"Great! Sundays, they busy for you?"

"Depends. They're usually just study days."

"Well, if you can spare a couple of hours one weekend, I will take you down there. Show you my favorites."

She grinned at him. "Sounds fun. I'll get back to you."

She couldn't lie; her mood did improve with the invite. For a little while, she stopped thinking about the future and how to get around what people thought of her. Screw them anyway. She'd be a damn good doctor, too good for them to not keep around.

Root was already home when Shaw got back. And soon as she was in the door she was asking, "Can we please go out tonight?"

"You can go anytime you want." This was always her response.

"But I want to go with you," was always Root's. Usually with a matching pout.

"You don't have any classes tomorrow," she continued. "I checked. And I'm good until Thursday. I promise not to keep you out past two. Okay, three, at the latest."

Shaw thought about it. "Actually...going out does sound kinda good."

Root grinned broadly. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

They didn't party so much with school back in session. And now both of them were balancing work and classes, so late nights and alcohol were rarities. But Shaw wanted to further forget her thoughts on the future. She needed a few drinks, a few dances, and maybe some hot sex. If she couldn't get it from Tomas, she'd find it elsewhere.

"How is it you always know when there's a party?" Shaw asked.

Root laughed. "Sixth sense?"

"Sure, whatever."

"Admit it, I'm good at this."

Shaw snorted. "You have one aspect of college life down pat."

Root laughed again as she led her inside.

By now, they had a routine down. First, they scoped the room, seeing if there was anyone here who interested either of them. They met back up at the drink table to compare notes and start in on being a little less sober. Shaw still hadn't ever seen Root really, truly drunk; she handled alcohol very well. But she did get a little louder and more talkative when she was drinking, which was perfect for a party. After they'd imbibed a suitable amount, they headed for the dance floor. Mostly, they danced for themselves. They both enjoyed it, even more so with a partner, and could simply work each other over for hours that way. But it could also be useful in attracting attention. If and when one of them wanted to, they would switch partners, sometimes just to dance, and sometimes moving on to other things. It was a system that had worked flawlessly over the summer. They just got to use it less now.

Tonight, Root was approached first. They'd been in this area before, knew some of the people here. And so this time, she was approached by a confidently smirking woman, instead of some eager young guy. Root glanced over at her, then winked back at Shaw. That was a yes. Shaw grinned and backed off to let her get to know her new friend. There was a tiny stab of resentment at losing her partner, but she pushed it away. She just needed to find someone of her own.

The pickings weren't bad tonight, but a lot of people were already paired up. The downside to coming with Root was that she wasn't the end-of-the-night kind of partner. They came together and left separately. For once, she saw the convenience in having someone on standby for booty calls. Shaw glanced around as she moved, waiting to see if eyes settled on her. So far, all she had was a nearby college kid, maybe a couple years younger than her. Looked like an athlete. Yay for a fit body, but brain cells tended to be scarce. Oh well, she didn't need him to talk. Yeah, he'd do.

Shaw gestured him over. He grinned cockily as he approached. Immediately her guard was up. At least when Root did it, she looked sexy. This guy just looked like he needed to make a pitstop.

And very quickly she realized he was a shit dancer. He mostly wanted her to grind on him while he felt her up. She almost sent him away, but she was too horny for that. Her sudden lack of partying and lower number of hook-ups had left her high and dry. So she forewent the dancing, taking the imbecile by the hand and leading him away.

"Where do you live?" she shouted at him.

"Dorms."

"Shit." She did not want to take this guy back to her house. Normally, she preferred not to have sex at the party host's house, though everyone else did it. But that was part of the reason why. Who knew who else had been in there? Thank goodness for walls. She could do it against a wall. She led him into the nearest unlocked room.

"I'm-"

"Don't care," she interrupted. "Protection?" He nodded. "Good enough for me." She pulled him in for a kiss. Fucking hell, he was sloppy at that, too. She pushed past it. Kissing was a formality anyway. She tugged at the bulge in his jeans as he kissed his way down her neck. He slobbered too much, but she intended to make this fast.

And the fastest way to get him ready... She dropped to her knees and undid his jeans. He cursed and leaned against the wall. Belatedly, she hoped he didn't have a girlfriend who might find out about this. She quickly and diligently sucked him hard before getting back to her feet. "Condom." He fumbled in his pocket for it, his jeans tangled around his ankles. She sighed impatiently.

"I-I can't find it." He cursed frantically.

"No glove, no love, asshole." He wouldn't be the first to 'lose' a condom and hope she was horny enough to overlook it. No fucking way. Not even someone in Tomas' league would get away with that.

"Here it is!"

"Oh look, you found it," she deadpanned. She snatched it from him, just to make sure it was put on right. He was on the small side, but right now, she just didn't care. She just wanted something that wasn't her own hand or a vibrator.

Mister Hotshot was less experienced than he pretended to be. He fumbled lifting her leg when he tried to make room for himself, awkward in his approach. Shaw was seriously on the verge of walking out. The only reason she didn't was merely because she'd come this far already. She grabbed his cock and directed it into herself.

He immediately started pumping, short little thrusts that did little for her. He clumsily groped her breasts through her dress, gasping in her ear in a way that made her cringe. Fuck this. Shaw raised her leg higher and reached down to fondle her clit herself.

"Oh, that's hot. Yeah, touch yourself for me, baby."

"Shut up," she snapped. Why did men always think it was for them? Her clit didn't exist for his pleasure any more than any other part of her body did. It was to bring her closer to an orgasm. Which, if he could find do his job, she wouldn't need to take matters into her own hands at all.

On the plus side, it was over quickly. She managed to eek out a small orgasm, but mostly, this had been a waste of time. She shoved him away in annoyance. He was panting heavily, sweat dripping from his hairline. "Whoa. That was amazing. You are so hot."

"What about 'shut up' don't you understand?" He seemed confused, but she was happy to enlighten him. "Amazing? You're the only one who came, or didn't you notice?" His brow furrowed, ruining the happy glaze in his eyes. "If your girlfriend hasn't ever told you that you suck, I will. Here's some free tips, dude. Breasts aren't handles, slobber isn't hot, coming isn't all about you, and if you can't ever find the clitoris, you should take up the priesthood now." She fixed her dress as she spat all of that at him.

He was so speechless, it was almost comical. Except, she was too pissed off to be amused by anything. She tore out of the room like she might never leave if she didn't go now. She grabbed a beer on her way out. At least she'd have something to keep her company on the way home.

Once there, she texted Root to let her know where she was and then she poured herself a shot. And then a second, and a third. Alcohol, now that she could depend on. It numbed her mind more than it did the ache between her legs, but oh well. It would do.

That debacle set her up for the whole week. She was horny in a way that could not be assuaged. She worked again two nights later, and she was shit company because she was moody and all she wanted to do was stare at Tomas' ass. Every time he smiled at her, her clit actually tingled. It nearly drove her up the wall. She nearly let him drive her on a wall. Instead, she went home in a worse state than she'd left it. She woke up wet every morning, despite having no memory of sex dreams. Hot showers made it worse, but cold ones didn't improve her state of existence. She zoned out in every single class, even missed turning in a paper, because all she could think about was sex. Her wrist ached from masturbating by now. And yet, she had nothing to show for any of it.

She tried hooking up again. One more time at another party. Not a jock. Not someone living in a dorm. Not up against a wall. He was better, more experienced, and took his time. But it was still subpar. He was average in size, but couldn't seem to hit where she needed it, and once again, only one of them enjoyed themselves.

And so she came home frustrated again. Root sensed the mood and kept her distance. And if even she was keeping her distance...

She just needed a competent lover. Just one. Someone who knew both how to use his dick, or even his tongue, and knew what erogenous zones were and how to use them. And would it hurt to have someone who could take charge in the bedroom and maybe get a little rough? For once in her life, she didn't want to be so intimidating that the man in front of her cowed. Just this once.

And if she couldn't get those things, Root was going to be bailing her out of jail after all.