a good end would be a privilege

Shaw’s eyes watched Root’s hand as it reached out for her own, a slim thumb rubbing briefly against the inside of her wrist. It was an innocuous touch, gentle in a way that Root never really was with her, and while a part of her burned for the roughness that she had come to associated with the hacker, another part of her didn’t mind the soft contact. She frowned when Root all but admitted that she knew it was a trap. Of course she did. She had never had a single ounce of self-preservation and she would waltz right into a Samaritan trap for some misguided feelings about her. And it made her stomach clench because the idea of Root dying because of her, made something acidic bubble up. “You shouldn’t have gone. They were going to cut the Machine out of your head. Because of me.”

Shaw’s voice was bitter and low, and she wanted to shake Root to try and impress upon her the seriousness of that. Root would have been dead. And then where would the team be? Probably just as dead with her connection to the Machine gone. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Root tucked her legs up, drawing her lanky frame in like the awkward baby deer she was. “I…” Shaw trailed off, staring down at the blanket on her lap. Her brows were drawn together, giving her an almost angry look but she softened it before looking up at Root. “If you don’t want to leave, you don’t have to.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I won’t make you need to defrag. Or whatever.”

Root sat there for a moment, knowing what Shaw said was true, and what her words really meant. She could have died. Would have died because of Shaw, if it weren’t for the Machine sacrificing itself for them. Turning her head towards Sameen, she clenched her jaw and nodded, just once. Acknowledging the danger, the slight concern. “I can’t promise I won’t do something like that again. Especially considering that sitting here with you is another sort of something like that, if it were up to the boys.” Her smile was easy, though still a little strained, finding that she was still left wanting and still aching for something she didn’t think she would get. That’s how these things go usually, you want and want until something punches you in the gut and makes you forget or regret wanting it. Something like being pushed into an elevator after a kiss. But when Shaw told her she didn’t have to leave, it broke something in her, the resolve to try and stay away crumbling.

Turning her head again, she crushed it in her arms draped over her knees and sucked in a deep breath, fighting away the contortion of her features and the swelling feeling in the back of her throat. A few more deep breaths and shaking shoulders and she was okay. Or at least okay enough until Shaw fell asleep and she lifted her head with a hard swallow and a smile. “I’ll stay.” Root stretched out her legs again, feeling a bit more vulnerable, and paused a moment, looking over at Shaw with a look a on her face that said she was absolutely going to do something she regretted. “If you need me at all, just.. hit me.” Another hard swallow and she leaned over to press a kiss to Shaw’s shoulder. It lingered a little longer than it should have, and then - bit into the skin stretching over the bone. Not hard, but enough for her to feel it for a while. With a shy smile, Root slid out of the bed to go get her things for the night and to get her wound - finally - looked at. When she returned, she just slipped under the blankets and balanced a laptop on her knees. “I’ll be right here, Sam.”

Shaw was relieved when Root nodded, and when she left, it didn’t have that finality to it that she’d felt up to this point. She knew that Root would come back and while part of Shaw railed against feeling so needy, another part of her as comforted by the fact. She took a small bite out of a cracker, her jaw getting used to the idea of chewing once more. It all felt so strangle, like she was relearning her body again for the first time. With each bite, she took a sip of broth, slow and methodical in a way that kept her mind off of other things. Looking up as the door closed, Shaw watched as Root came closer to the bed, a blanket in her arms that she draped over her deadened legs. She supposed they were probably cold to the touch, not that she could feel them.

As Root settled in beside her, Shaw’s brow furrowed as she could tell the hacker was coming down from the adrenaline rush. Her muscles sagged and she still hadn’t gotten the graze on her shoulder looked at, but Shaw just continued to eat, not wiling to break the tentative silence that hung over them. But when Root mentioned her safeword, something inside her cracked, and she let out a snort. While Shaw was physically stronger than Root, she had always let Root top her. It might have grated on her in the beginning, but she had to admit the hacker knew what she was doing in bed. Her insides twisted, figuring that those days were long over. “Well, we should probably hammer out the details before taking that on again,” she lobbed back, the tiniest hint of a smirk on her face.

But Shaw didn’t even think sex was a viable option anymore, not when she couldn’t feel it anyways. Which was a goddamn shame because whatever she and Root had was very much physical. “Dunno what there is to talk about,” she said after a long moment. “Thanks, I guess. For not leaving me,” she mumbled, picking at the blanket on her legs. She felt hot all over for having to admit to something so… mundane, but she wanted Root to know that at least. “And I’m sorry about…” She made a small noise as she gestured to her own ear, where a cochlear implant might have been. “I didn’t me–” She cut herself off there. It didn’t matter whether she meant to or not. She had gotten the team into a crapload of trouble, one that they apparently barely escaped.

#shattered: 001 #verse: these shattered bones

The grin that she managed to crack at Shaw firing back so quickly to the safe word actually showed a bit of teeth, and instead of tensely sitting up against the headboard, she sagged a bit and relaxed into the bed. Of course, sex was nowhere near where her mind was at, but it felt like a good way to break the ice between them. And push back that frustration that seemed to be fading now. A bit of attention and she was being reeled back in without so much as a blink. They sat in silence for a good while, Shaw picking at the blanket on her legs and Root now reclining with her eyes half closed. The exhaustion was going to make it hard to leave the bed and cross back to the couch to pass out on. Whenever Shaw decided to kick her out, she’d comply. But for now, the silence of her company was nice. After not knowing that sort of company for some time, it was a nice change.

And by nice change, Root absolutely meant it felt like maybe the world wasn’t going to end anytime soon. With the warring AIs controlling and pushing at one another, even with the Machine out of comission, the world for them had become increasingly more bleak. Shaw being back, even as broken as she was, sort of symbolized a light at the end of the tunnel. The silence was broken by her gruff voice and Root drew in a sharp breath. There was no need to respond to the thanks. In what world would she ever leave her person behind? So she just nodded in acknowledgement, just before shaking her head at hearing the apology in Shaw’s voice. It was obvious she meant it, but Root wouldn’t hear it. Root had the utmost faith that Shaw would never betray her on purpose, or the team, really, not after risking her life to save them.

Instead, she just quietly reached over to press lightly into the underside of Shaw’s wrist. A thumb stroked its way over the bones of her hand, back and forth three times before she withdrew. There was no way to tell what Shaw was comfortable with exactly, anymore, and that made her all the more hesitant to touch her. Or try anything other than that. Both of her hands folded against her stomach, and she stretched her legs out a little more to get more comfortable. “You don’t have to say anything. I knew what I was walking into when you called me. I would have been okay, either way, knowing you were alive.” Her voice quieted towards the end, trailing off into a whisper. There was something in her voice that revealed a bit more than she had wanted to, something within her that reminded of her of the crusade for Hannah’s killer. Working her jaw, she looked back towards Shaw, sighing against the ache in her shoulders.

“You know that would have been enough for me.” Root swallowed hard, and twisted her fingers into the fabric of her own shirt to fight against the urge to reach over and pull Shaw to her. The physicality of their relationship before made this so much harder to just sit here and pretend that whatever they were before hadn’t existed. “But we don’t have to talk about that. I said I’d listen quietly, if you wanted to, but sitting with you while it’s quiet is nice. And more than okay.” Her grip tightened on the fabric and she shifted to pull her knees up to her chest, tucking her hands in the crease of her knees. Her lankiness made the position look awkward, but it made her feel smaller, more protected. And offered the bonus of keeping her hands in place. “Whenever you want to sleep, just say the word.” She nodded towards the door. “I’ll leave.”

Shaw resisted the urge to scoff in Harold’s face, but even after all this time, she had a respect for the quiet man that had offered her a second chance. Even if they hadn’t gotten off on the right foot, she knew that he was only concerned for her physical (and moral) wellbeing. Not that she had much of the latter anymore. She listened to his thin, reedy voice tell her what the plan was, if they could even call it one. It didn’t matter anyways. The plan had no place for Shaw. The team had no place for her anymore. They didn’t need an invalid dragging them down when they were already only surviving by the skin of their teeth. It would be merciful for them to just put a bullet in her head and be done with it. Hell, Shaw might have even preferred that. But Root wouldn’t ever allow that to happen, with whatever misguided feelings she had towards Shaw. A part of her had hoped those feelings would fade, but if anything, they seemed to have only gotten stronger in her absence.

The second Harold mentioned getting a wheelchair for her, Shaw’s gut wrenched, and she was too slow to stop the flinch that crossed her face. Truthfully, she hadn’t even thought about a wheelchair or how she’d get about. It had been such a nonissue with Samaritan… However, before she could respond, John and Harold were ducking out of the room, and it only left her and Root. As uncomfortable as the two men made her, she wanted to call them back because being here with a Root who looked at her with such emotion, it made her want to sink into a puddle and disappear.

She barely noticed when Root dropped the phone on her lap. It wasn’t like she could feel the weight of the phone, but when she did, Shaw scrolled through it absentmindedly. Root had removed anything that would have been useful on the phone, other than a few stupid games, and a part of her was pleasantly surprised that the hacker had even done that much. Apparently she was learning to look after herself after all. A sharp laugh bubbled out of her chest, more bitter than anything. “You and me both,” she said as she laid back on the bed. She didn’t have an illusions of ever meeting the Team again, really. Not when she ran out of the elevator to press the override button, and not when she’d woken up in Samaritan’s hands.

As Root got up to leave, Shaw reached out instinctively. She stopped herself, looking angry at herself, but she’d already done it. “You don’t have to go. If you don’t want to,” she said, her voice sullen. “I’m not going to strangle you or anything.” In the past having people afraid of her was one of those things that Shaw prided herself on. It made her job that much easier. However, the idea of Root looking at her with fear and disgust, it would have just made the entire thing worthless. Why did she throw herself into a hail of bullets just to be greeted with suspicion and mistrust? Shaw looked away instead, reaching for the bowl of broth that had cooled considerably. She stared down at the food, mouth watering at the idea of having actual sustenance again. But she forced herself to take it slow. After all, if she made herself sick, there’s no way she’d make it to the bathroom in time, and she was too tired to have to shower again.

#shattered: 001 #verse: these shattered bones

Root wondered what Shaw might have pictured, if anything, while she was waiting there in that hospital bed for death to come. Maybe she had just imagined Samaritan finally having mercy on her. Either way, both of them had been wrong, it seemed. At least with that, they were both partially alive. When she’d moved to stand, Shaw’s fingers brushed against her arm. The lightest touch seemed to pull a weight off of her shoulders, but she just rolled them back and watched as Shaw withdrew her hand almost as quickly as she’d reached out. The look on her face told Root all she needed to know. Giving it a few seconds, she nodded, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips. But she still stood and left, this time to go into the living room and take the afghan off the back of the couch. John and Harold were sitting at the kitchen table, not sparing her a second glance. Whatever world they were lost in together, Root left it and moved back to Shaw’s bedroom.

She hesitated a moment, blanket in hand, in the doorway. Watching Shaw nibble on some crackers for a bit, she turned and shut the door behind her before crossing over to the bed again. Shutting the door should not have been a big a deal as her mind told her it was. It cut off an easy escape route, and way to call to the rest of the team. It also meant she was alone with someone who the John and Harold saw as a possible traitor. It shouldn’t matter, but it did, and Root was placing trust in her, just as she always urged Shaw to do with her. She placed the folded up blanket on Shaw’s calves, patting it out of habit before flinching and sighed. It was still cold out and two layers of blankets would very much help, especially with how much meat Shaw had lost off of her bones.

She moved around the bed and slid into it on the other side, sitting up against the headboard and stretching her legs out with a sigh. The graze on her shoulder ached, and her muscles were finally starting to tire out after all the action of the day. So she let out a soft sigh and looked down at her hands folded in her lap again. “For the record.. strangling is probably something I’d have to defrag.” It was her safe word, of course, something she didn’t really see the point of having if she was the one doing all the action, but it had come in handy one or two times. The hint of a smile played at her lips again, hoping the Shaw remembered it. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I’m.. I won’t comment if you want to say something.”

Shaw couldn’t believe they were actually trying to do this, but somehow, she managed to climb onto Root’s back. It was a lot harder to do so, especially when she couldn’t actually move her legs with any kind of control. They just swung there uselessly, and no matter how hard she willed them to move to where she wanted them to, it didn’t work. Finally, Root was lifting her, and Shaw did her best to try and not put too much weight on any one part of Root’s body. Somehow they managed to stagger into the bedroom and Root got her onto the bed. Shaw pulled herself up to sit properly with her arms and she looked back at the hacker. The sound of the front door closing broke the connection between them, and Root quickly cleared the room of anything that Shaw might use to betray them, and placed it out of her reach. She then hurried out with the vague promise of food, and Shaw was alone again. It didn’t escape her notice that Root had taken her bag with her. She assumed that it had her laptop and phones and any other electronic devices. Subtlety wasn’t something Root did.

Shaw sighed, sinking into the pillows and the bed that actually felt like a mattress, and not a thin pad. It wasn’t long before Root came back, her face drawn tightly into a frown, and as John and Harold slunk in behind her, she knew what had transpired on the other side of the door. The woman set the bowl of soup and rackers next to her, and Shaw stared at it for a long moment. A part of her longed for a big, medium-rare steak, but considering she hadn’t actually eaten anything in months, it probably wouldn’t end well for anyone. But Shaw didn’t move to touch the food, only turning back to face John and Harold. She wanted to meet their eyes evenly, to show them that she was still the same Shaw that had given herself up to save their lives in the Stock Exchange, but she gritted her teeth when Harold’s eyes flickered over her legs. There was pity in his eyes, mixed in with the caution, and Shaw had to look away from him.

“If you’re really that concerned, you can move me to the couch and handcuff me to the radiator. It’d be just like being in that room all over again except with a change of scenery. Not like I can really go anywhere, but well.” She gestured to her legs dryly and without pain. She said everything in her typical deadpan voice as she stared at the two men, daring them to say anything. She understood their wariness, but Shaw also thought about the time that Root had literally kidnapped Harold, and how she was now a part of them. Why couldn’t they give her the same benefit of the doubt? Taking a short breath, Shaw brushed the damp hair out of her face. “Whatever it is you’re going to say, just say it so I can eat my damn dinner.”

There was an awkward silence that filled the room after Shaw finished speaking. Root’s own thoughts had taken a turn for the worse after she’d mentioned being in the room, the frustration and anger with Samaritan and its agents boiling hot in her stomach at what they continued to do the things she cared about. Shaw, The Machine. They were equal in her mind, and they had both been broken down to a smaller shell of a being at their hands. Her jaw clenched as Shaw continued, and she kept her head turned down towards the floor. Her fingers twitched, itching to bury herself in code and forget the feelings that threatened to drown her. Anger and pain was something she’d welcomed before, for months, but now that Shaw was back and those emotions weren’t leaving her behind, she didn’t know how to handle it. She almost didn’t catch what Harold was saying to Shaw, so lost in her own struggles.

“Of course not, Ms. Shaw.” Was the only reassurance she heard from. His words seemed to stop and start, as if he were chewing over the situation just like Root and John were in the car ride on the way to the safehouse. “You’ll be staying in the bedroom, here. We.. ah - John and Ms. Groves will keep an eye on you.” Root flinched at the use of her real name, but kept her mouth shut. After all this time, it was something she’d just have to get used to, she supposed. Arms crossed over her chest as Harold explained they would be staying there for some time, not quite detailing out the plan, but giving Shaw the basics. It was something, she guessed, that he was telling her that much. John stood off next to his shoulder with his lips pressed into a thin line, and only took his leave when Harold mentioned getting a wheelchair for her in the next few days. He nodded to Root and then left as well, leaving the two of them alone again, with Root still staring at the floor.

The idea of Shaw in a wheelchair made her want to spill out the contents of what little she’d eaten that day. Not out of disgust for her and her predicament, but knowing that she wouldn’t ever be able to contribute the way she had before. There was no way Shaw would be just content to sit in her chair and watch as they walked around her, handling the aftermath of the raid on the facilities. As if her thoughts triggered it, the phone in her pocket beeped with the end of a timer, and Root silenced it immediately, just now finally being brought out of her thoughts and looking up to the woman on the bed. Looking down at the phone in her hand, she pursed her lips together and gave it some thought before her thumbs moved over the screen with ease. All relevant information was erased, only leaving a few mind numbing app games, and the only contact being the number of her other phone. A few strides over to the bed and Root placed the phone in her Shaw’s lap before sitting next to her on the small expanse of bed.

“This was my room, in the plan we’d laid out.” It was a terse reply, Root still swallowing back that bitter pill of frustration that seemed to want to explode out of her at any given moment. Maybe she should thank Shaw for teaching her how to give into that. “I’d rather you be in here than me.” Another pause, and Root folded her hands in her lap to fight the urge to touch and coo over Shaw, despite the negativity running through her mind and that sour feeling in her stomach. God knows she wasn’t going to try and kiss her again. Root let out a huff of a sigh, and kept her eyes trained on her fingers lacing together. “I’m not handling this well.” This meaning Shaw’s return, and not her legs, though she wasn’t handling that very well at all, either. “It’s just - Not what I pictured.” She shook her head, leaving it at that. It was stupid of her to think their reunion would be anything like it had played out in her dreams.

Tears, kissing, light touches and getting reacquainted with each other was never in the cards for them. Maybe she’d just been imagining and wishing too hard that something had sparked in Shaw at the Stock Exchange. Root would never expect Shaw to change who she was, or pretend to be something she wasn’t, or hell.. even feel anything other than slight annoyance at her, but the look in her eyes was burned into Root’s memory. Along with the image of her blood spilling and spraying across the tile. “If you want me, just call me.” She motioned to the phone in Shaw’s lap and made a move to leave, not realizing that her voice had finally cracked.

The edge in Root’s voice made her pause, but it didn’t curb the self-loathing the roiled in her stomach. After all, no matter how they cut it, Root had almost been killed because she couldn’t handle the things that Samaritan threw at her. The door slammed behind the hacker as she walked out to find them both a change of clothes and Shaw growled under her breath, unsure whether she was angrier at herself, at Samaritan for what they did to her, at Root for trusting her so blindly, or at John and Harold for not trusting her at all. Before she knew it, she was slamming her fist into the top of her thigh once, twice, three times, willing it to feel anything, even the tiniest hint of a tingle. But it just flopped there, useless, and Shaw wanted to throw something. She was about to reach for the bottle of shampoo when she heard the door open behind her.

When Root handed the clothes to her, Shaw did her best to dress herself. It was awkward, as she had to maneuver her legs in a way that had always been second nature to her. She nearly fell off the edge of the tub several times, but finally, she managed to the necessary bits covered. She ignored Root’s googly eyes as she got dressed. Once finished, she resisted the urge to scoff at her offer. She might have lost half her muscle mass since her capture by Samaritan, but Root had gone though her own difficulties as well, and she doubted that the hacker would be able to carry her. Shaw was about to point out as much when Root knelt by the tub, telling her that she could give her piggyback ride to the bedroom. Apparently, she wasn’t allowed to drag herself.

Staring at Root for the longest time, Shaw forced herself to swallow her pride. It would be either Reese or Root, and at this moment, she didn’t want John seeing her like this. She didn’t want to see the distrust he felt towards her. “Okay fine.” She managed to swing her legs over the edge of the tub without falling and sighed. “How are we going to do this?”

Root just looked back behind her, features still showing that frustration of the day’s events and she just pursed her lips and turned her head back to look at the bathroom door as she spoke. “You know how piggyback rides work, Shaw. I’ll hold your.. I’ll sup..” Pausing, she clenched her jaw, nearly biting down on her tongue with the force that she clamped her teeth together. Everything she wanted to say sounded wrong, or too much. Maybe this would be easier if she could view Shaw as a traitor, as someone she didn’t know, and someone she didn’t find herself missing every day for the last.. however long it’d been. Swallowing against that prickling feeling in the joint of her jaw, she huffed out a sigh. “It’s only a short walk, and I can hold you up.” Root didn’t look back towards Shaw again, though, letting her handle her own maneuvering until she felt hands at her shoulders, then arms around her neck. It took a bit to get the angle right, and some awkward touches, but Root managed to get Shaw’s legs around her waist, as well, gripping them tightly and supporting her lower body.

The pressure against her neck was uncomfortable, but nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. Walking them to the bedroom, she didn’t spare a second glance to John, who had moved from his watchdog position to help Harold get his bags. He’d apparently arrived while Root was trying to get Shaw up on her back. Root knew that the discussion they’d have later on that night would be more reprimanding, and she knew she’d get a little more than heated at the idea of leaving Shaw to die. There was no way that she’d be loyal to Samaritan, not after what they did to her. It had nothing to do with the way she viewed the team, and Root wasn’t sure she even wanted to be a part of them anymore, what with the way she kept flinching away from her. To Root, it read much differently than it probably should have, and it made her chest ache, something wrapping around itself tighter and tighter in her torso until it threatened to explode. And explode it would, later that night, away from Shaw.

In the bedroom, it was still a little awkward to get her on the bed, and once she did, she took Shaw’s legs by the ankles and placed them on the blankets as gently as she could muster. Her neck would probably bruise, and thankfully, she hadn’t almost dropped the woman, like she was afraid of doing at first. Glancing to her own clothes and supplies (laptops and phones, mainly), she reminded herself to remove those immediately. Looking down at Shaw, it only made the craving to touch her and feel that she was alive that much greater, and that, in turn, made the bile rise up in her throat at the definite possibility of her being pushed away again. She’d been pushed away by Shaw before, many times, but she allowed it sometimes. When she knew Root was distressed. After Simon Lee, but before she’d nearly gotten herself killed against Martine, namely.

So she ended up just staring at Shaw, the look in her eyes hardening as she remembered their before. Snapping out of it as she heard the front door open again, Root stood to move the house phone away from the bed - useless, but you never know - along with moving the lamp farther away as well. Basically, just removing all hazards from Shaw’s general vicinity. Moving away from the end tables, she picked up her bags containing her clothes and electronics to remove them from the room. It would serve as Shaw’s for now. “I’ll be back with food.” She moved to go dump her things in the living room by the couch, which she was now claiming as her space and bypassed Reese and Harold, who was looking just as worried as she imagined him to. Broth and crackers would do for now, she supposed, and set to work on it while the other two followed her into the kitchen.

As she worked, she had to listen to Harold warn her of brainwashing, of sleeper agents, until Root finally turned and snapped. “I’m not leaving her again, Harold.” Her voice raised with each word, shaking lightly against the emotion in her voice. “You may not trust her, and that’s fine. But she’s a part of.. She’s a part of your team.” Not hers, or ours. Sometimes belonging was one of those things she never really felt. The feeling came and went almost as much as her good moods. “You should at least talk to her. Give her the benefit of the doubt before making snap judgements.” The broth was almost done heating up and she poured it into a bowl. “But I forget.. neither of you are very good at listening.” Returning back to the room, she set the bowl and the plate of crackers on the end table, and turned to leave again, only to find that Reese and Harold had joined her. When they had wanted to corner them before, Root had usually just made it as uncomfortable as possible for them, but this time she just moved away to a far wall.

Shaw didn’t move as Root turned around, but she didn’t look at her either. She didn’t need to see the pity in her eyes. Shaw already felt like that towards herself. The soft graze of knuckles against her jaw made her jerk back, still not used to gentle touches, but she relaxed as soon as she was able to remember. Hopefully Root just took it as her aversion to being touched, rather than surprise. A movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn, though she quickly looked up at the ceiling when she realized that Root had just taken her shirt off. The quick glimpse she did catch, however, confirmed what Shaw had thought the first time that had seen Root. Her ribs were sticking out more and her skin was a sickly pale, like she hadn’t seen the sun in weeks. Or she was overworking herself. Or both.

Now that Shaw understood what Root was trying to do, she relaxed, letting the hacker scrub practically a layer of filth and dead skin off her upper body. The harshness of the rag against her skin felt good, even though the hot water made it sting. It served as a reminder that at least she had that much. But then Root moved further down her body, and Shaw resumed looking up at the ceiling. She didn’t want to watch her clean her spindly legs, not when she wouldn’t be able to feel that same stinging pain. She just sat, letting the water lap against her chest and swallowing the irritation and misery that threatened to come up her throat. Blinking twice as the hacker asked her a question, she looked down the length of her body. She walked two fingers down her front, pausing just below her navel. She poked and prodded at the skin, moving half an inch up and down. There was morbid fascination as she pressed against her front, being able to feel one part and not the other.

Two hands cupped her face and Shaw found herself looking into doe eyes, that were filled with sorrow and… something else that she didn’t want to identify. And then there was the slightest brush of lips against hers and Shaw looked away. Whoever Root was looking for, that wasn’t her anymore. Physicality had been a big part of their relationship before, whether it was sex or fighting or anything else. But neither of them were equipped to do feelings like normal people, and Shaw doubted that they would just go back to whatever the hell they did. She didn’t even know if sex was even possible for her anymore. At the mention of John, Shaw immediately shook her head. “No. Fuck that.” The water had been drained at this point and Shaw’s arms shook as she managed to pull herself up and onto the lip of the tub. “I don’t think he wants to touch the traitor anyways.” Bitterness was laced in her voice, mostly directed at herself. “Just get me some clothes. I can manage once I’m dressed.”

Root’s eyes followed Shaw’s fingers down her fronting, noting the way she pushed and prodded at her skin, obviously intrigued by the way it felt. Or didn’t feel, rather. Clenching her teeth together, she sighed and ducked her head at the way Shaw moved away from her kiss. It stung, but it was expected. Root registered it as either anger or frustration at the situation, and a part of her wanted to believe that it wasn’t Shaw not wanting her anymore. But that was more likely the case, seeing as the hacker was the one to leave her in that shithole, and she was the one who’d nearly given up. Nearly as in she held onto the hope that Shaw was alive, but had stopped looking for her actively. That didn’t mean she didn’t stay up bleary eyed for days at a time watching camera feeds of the stock exchange and straining to hear something from the Machine. That was over now, though, relief still very much flooding through her veins at Shaw being here, and in front of her. At the very least, if Shaw wanted to push her away, Root would be satisfied watching her. But she let out a sigh as she watched Shaw pick herself up and slide onto the lip of the tub. "You’re not crawling to -” She cut herself off as she registered what Shaw had said.

“..Stop it, Sameen.” Her voice took on an edge and she just stood, grabbing her shirt and pulling it back over her head to go out and get her own change of clothing. “Don’t do anything stupid.” Like hurting herself. “I’ll find you something to wear.” Exiting the bathroom, she tried to not slam the door behind her, but failed. It was the frustration of feeling unwanted, and Shaw’s own statement directed at herself that set her on edge. Taking a moment to breathe, she passed by John, leaning against the wall near the front door. He only shot her a look that seemingly knew what she was upset about, his eyes hardening and making a movement to go towards the bathroom. She shook her head. “Don’t. Just don’t. I’ve got it. You can patch my graze up after I get her settled.” It seemed to pacify him, and he just turned his head with a shrug to watch for Harold’s ride to arrive. It didn’t take long for Root to find her own shirt to wear - a tank top, really, so she wouldn’t bleed all over a new shirt if the graze wanted to bleed some more - and gather some things for Shaw to wear. Shorts, loose shirt, underwear. And then back to the bathroom, the door shutting behind her much gentler this time.

Sitting down on the toilet, she handed Shaw the underwear and shirt, so she could at least cover herself. Elbow on her knee, and chin in her palm, she watched Shaw with a blank expression, trying to not let her own hurt get in the way of taking care of the woman in front of her. “As I was saying..” She started slowly, choosing her words carefully. “..you can hold onto my back and I can carry you.” She wanted to tack on something playful, sassy, but bit her tongue and just moved to kneel on the floor, but made no move to touch her again.

It was strange, being an outsider in their ragtag group of rebels. Shaw remembered when it was her and John communicating silently, with just looks and expressions. John was a lot like her, in the sense that words were often superfluous and now that she was sitting on the outside, she began to understand why Root had a hard time fitting in at first. It really fucking sucked. True, she knew both of them well enough to know what they were talking about over her head, but Shaw knew that she wasn’t a part of the conversation. They were talking about her, not with her. She just shrugged half a shoulder when Root said they wouldn’t leave her alone. She couldn’t be upset about it, not when she was about to get the first real bath she’d had in months, and knowing that she was relatively safe.

The sound of running water was foreign to Shaw’s ears, and it felt surreal, sitting there in John’s arms as Root ran a bath for her. Like she was an invalid. Well, she supposed she was, but it still grated on her. John set her in the tub, and for a second, Shaw felt strange, because she could see the water soaking into her hospital gown and surrounding her legs, but she couldn’t feel it. Her fingers reached out to swipe at the water, and it felt… good. Glaring at her legs like it was their fault she couldn’t feel anything, Shaw let Root pull the hospital gown up and over her head as soon as John left the bathroom. “Whatever’s fine,” she said dismissively, her voice still hoarse from disuse. “As long as it closes all the way and isn’t breezy.” It was a poor attempt at a joke and it fell flat as Shaw sat in the bath.

She couldn’t remember the last time she had taken a bath. At least two decades. After the Marines, she had gotten so used to military showers, that she was in and out as soon as she was done washing up. Shaw wasn’t ignorant to the grimace that crossed Root’s face, and the way she sat facing away from her, like she could barely stand to see Shaw like that. Shaw knew the feeling. She hated the way she looked too. With spindly, too pale legs that would never do anything useful again. Clenching her jaw, Shaw reached for the bottle of shampoo that was in the corner. Not her usual brand and some flowery bullshit, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. “You don’t need to apologize for anything,” she said brusquely as she scrubbed at her hair. She washed it at least three times before moving on, and she didn’t even want to see how gross the water had gotten.

Struggling a bit, she managed to turn the water on again, to refill the tub with fresh water, and Shaw wanted to scream as she watched the water stream over her leg but she couldn’t feel a damn thing. Not temperature, not pressure. Like it was one of those stupid plastic legs. “I knew what I was doing when I went to push that button. Didn’t expect it to end up like this though,” she mumbled. Once the tub was full again, Shaw sat back, just letting her entire body soak in the water, too tired to resume washing herself. “Thought I’d made my peace with dying a long time ago, but apparently someone up there has a sick sense of humor.”

Hearing the water running again, Root turned around to finally look at her, and sighed, watching as she struggled to pull herself forward. She didn’t dare move to help, yet, though, just watching her as she moved to lean back, not bothering to wash her body. Her hair looked clean, however, and Root turned fully around, sitting up on her knees. A few seconds of watching Shaw with her eyes closed, obviously enjoying the feeling of hot water against her skin. Where she could feel it, at least. “I do.” Her voice was still quiet, the anger from earlier completely gone. Shifting her weight again, Root sat up a little more and reached out to touch Shaw again, a soft drag of her knuckle against her jawline. As if she was checking if the smaller woman was actually still there. Satisfied with the brush of skin against hers, she sighed and shifted again, moving to grab the body wash and a rag that she’d stocked the bathroom with before all of this happened. Apple and pear, a fruity scent that didn’t match up well with what Shaw’s taste was at all. Without giving Shaw a chance to protest, she rolled her sleeves up - then paused, and removed her shirt altogether.

She’d have to change anyways, what with the blood seeping through her shirt. Now that the fabric covering it was gone, the graze didn’t seem all that bad, barely haven split the skin. Lifting it to look at it, she wondered if stitches would be a good idea, and then just settled on a butterfly bandage for later, once Shaw was settled nicely in one of the two bedrooms. John and Harold, obviously, were to share one while Root had her own space. Neither of them slept very much lately, so it wasn’t anything to note of, but with Shaw here now.. Root hesitated as she was lathering up the rag with the body wash and gritted her teeth, swallowing against the odd, painful sensation that washed down her throat and settled into her stomach. Something like sadness, she suspected. Hurt, more likely. A couch would do just fine for her aching muscles. “I’d rather you be paralyzed and alive than dead.” She settled into scrubbing at Shaw’s skin, a little rougher than intended, but with how much they used to hurt each other in the interest of mixing pleasure with pain, a little scrubbing was nothing.

Root took her time, but hesitated when she started to lather again and move to scrub her legs. Though she knew Shaw couldn’t feel it, her touches were gentler, wiping away the grime instead of rubbing aggressively. The question caught on the tip of her tongue, as she the suds over her thighs and hips. A few more moments, and she finally voiced it, hands lingering over her hips. “Where.. up to where can you feel?” She finished up washing her without waiting for an answer and moved to drain the tub, looking down at Shaw with a blank expression. Maybe she’d get punched for it, but a knock to the teeth would be better than Shaw just sitting there and letting all of this happen, so she leaned forward and cupped Shaw’s face in her hands. Letting a moment pass, she pushed forward and pressed a kiss to her lips, missing the contact, and missing the way she felt like she just belonged. Belonged to Shaw. Unable to help herself, her teeth sunk into Shaw’s lower lip as she pulled back. “I’ve.. got to get you to the bedroom. Do you want me to get John?”

It stung more than it should’ve when Root flinched away from her, but Shaw didn’t let it show. If anything had actually happened, she doubted Root would have even stopped to get her out of the facility. If she’d been feeling merciful, maybe she would’ve put one in Shaw’s skull before leaving. But that wasn’t what happened. Root was okay, and now they were speeding away from the hellhole she’d been trapped in for months. Root’s hand kept moving, grasping and touching various places on Shaw’s torso, as if she had to keep reminding herself that she was there. She understood though. Sometimes Shaw had even wondered whether she existed to anyone anymore.

When the car finally stopped, Shaw struggled to sit up again, using her arms to push herself up just moments before John pulled open the door and was gathering her in his arms. He seemed a little more gentle now. Maybe the fact that they’d driven over an hour without even so much as a glimpse of a Samaritan agent had helped him to believe that she wasn’t a double agent. Even so, Shaw didn’t miss the way that his eyes flitted over her useless legs. Gritting her teeth, she set her jaw as they walked into the house. Root offered food first, but Shaw shook her head. She felt disgusting, and she wasn’t hungry. Months of a solely liquid diet meant that the idea of food was a mostly foreign concept.

“Shower first.” She wanted to wash away the grime and the memories of Samaritan, and she also wanted a chance to just spend with herself. She wasn’t used to having so many eyes on her anymore, and it was unsettling. As much as she had hated being alone, Shaw wanted a quiet moment again. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me in the bathroom alone?” She doubted John would, in case she somehow tried to send a smoke signal to Samaritan, and she doubted Root would let her out of her sight for any length of time for the time being. “I just… need to feel clean again.”

#shattered: 001 #verse: these shattered bones

Root led the way into the house, opening the door for John to carry Shaw through. She let them in first, and John paused, letting Root cross over the threshold before he set Shaw down anywhere at first. At the request, Root looked over at Shaw, finally taking in the sight of her. Matted hair, oily skin and the hospital gown wrinkled and looking like it hadn’t been changed in quite some time. There was just so much to say, and she tried to keep her eyes off of the way Shaw’s legs hung uselessly in John’s arms. A quick glance, then her gaze went back to Shaw’s face, and then once again up to John, who seemingly remained stoic during the request. His lip did twitch upwards when Shaw mentioned being alone and Root let out a heavy sigh, shaking her head. The silent exchange between them was enough to figure out what the other person wanted, after spending months together working side by side, it was a way of communication they had developed. Part of her hoped that Shaw wouldn’t be jealous.

“Clean first, then.” And John nodded, as they both heard Harold speaking through their earpieces and letting them know that he’d be at the house within the hour. Root gave a quick glance to the the clock on the wall and sighed, motioning for John to carry Shaw to the bathroom. “We can’t leave you alone, Shaw.” This is something that she knew Reese wouldn’t budge on, and neither would Harold, if he were here. Root knew with every fiber of her being that Shaw wouldn’t try to do anything like contact Samaritan, but there was a slight twinge of guilt that she couldn’t be sure that Shaw wouldn’t try something else. To herself. It was odd, though, have John standing awkwardly in the bathroom, holding the smaller woman while Root leaned over the tub and started running the water. So much was going through her head, and she knew it wouldn’t start to sort out until she was able to get on a computer and do something mindless with her fingers, or at least check on the status of her own virus. Once the water was warm enough, she nodded for John to set her in the tub, and left the gown on while it filled. Something about being respectful, Root supposed.

Turning to him, she sighed. “I’ll sit with her.” She shrugged the backpack off of her shoulders and handed it off to him, to which he raised an eyebrow and said something about fragility. “Just set that in the guest room, don’t worry about bringing in my things from the car. I’ll get it once I’m done here.” And then he just shrugged and left the room, shutting the door behind him. Once he had left, the tenseness in her body just evaporated, shoulders dropping. The exhaustion she had come to recognize as something that would never go away, was starting to take its toll on her. Turning back to Shaw, she picked help get the gown off of her and throw it to the side. “We didn’t.. pack clothing for you, so you can wear something of mine once we get you settled. I’ll shop for you tomorrow, once I’m able to make my own shadow map.”

Looking down at Shaw from her standing position, she grimaced and moved to sit down on the floor with her back against the porcelain. Root turned her head to face her for a moment, features softening as it just.. hit her, that Shaw was alive. Here with her, and relatively okay. Or as okay as one could be. “I know you can wash yourself, but.. I’m here. If you need me.” She murmured and just turned back around, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her cheek on them. Everything had just happened too fast, she supposed, because none it felt real, like it hadn’t caught up to her brain yet. And every part of her just wanted to sleep away the confusion and cloudiness. “I’m sorry.” The words were whispered against her knee, just barely audible, and Root wasn’t even sure what she was apologizing for. For leaving Shaw in that hellhole, for not looking harder, for stopping when She requested after the initial rampage over the country, for Shaw being crippled now. All of the above, probably.

Shaw glanced at John and the way he was muttering told him that it was Harold on the other line, and she didn’t have to be privy to the conversation to know what was being said. To leave her behind. She wasn’t hurt or surprised. If she were in that position, she would say the same thing. After what she’d done… Shaw swallowed down the sick feeling in her throat and focused back on Root, who was clearly not on board with any of this. Shaw gaped as she leaned down to brush a kiss to her forehead, and began to pull away the IVs and cords that were attached to her, and John easily picked the handcuff that was clasped around her bony wrist. She took a deep breath as her old partner picked her up, like a rag doll. She hated it, embarrassed and furious at her own weakness, even if none of it was her fault. The way John held her made it obvious that he still didn’t know whether to trust her, but it meant that his hands were literally full and Root had to play the role of protector. How the tables had turned.

Shaw half wished they would give her a gun, so she could also watch their backs, but she understood why they didn’t. Yet when Root got hit in the arm, she gritted her teeth because she could have prevented that. They were out of the facility in minutes, and feeling fresh air on her face was something that Shaw didn’t ever think she would have been able to experience again. The moment didn’t last as John all but shoved her into the backseat of a car before doubling around to get into the driver’s seat. She expected Root to join him up front, but she slipped in next to her, arms pulling Shaw practically into her lap.

Shaw squirmed away, half-embarrassed at how disgusting she felt, but she tried to sit up, fingers reaching up to push back Root’s hair so she could feel behind her ear. Relief flooded through her, hot and slick as she saw that there was no new damage done to her head. She sagged after that, carefully laying back down and cursing her useless legs for being unable to do anything other that sit there and mock her. At least in the bed, they were covered. She could pretend that they weren’t just skin and bone, and that they’d never move of their own volition again. She sometimes craved the phantom pains, that made her feel like her legs were still a part of her. Shaw turned her head so she was facing the windshield. She could see how tense John was, and the way the light from the street lamps made the angles of his face that much sharper, and an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. She had never been naive, but Shaw was beginning to wonder whether any of this was actually a good thing anymore.

She wanted to tell them that she didn’t want to betray them. That she didn’t mean for the knowledge of Root’s cochlear implant to fall into Samaritan’s hands. That they had tricked her, but even saying that in her head sounded foolish. She, Sameen Shaw, the wily former ISA agent that had managed to fake her own death, she had been tricked by a bottle of drugstore hair dye and some fancy hallucinogens. So instead, she just watched as the lights moved past them as the car sped away from the Samaritan facility and towards safety.

The fingers pressed against the skin behind her bad ear made her flinch away from the touch, not because it was Shaw, but the memory of Martine’s hand coming to cup around her head was still fresh in her mind. Even if the bitch was dead. Fingers fell away and Shaw slumped forward, turning her head and Root sighed, trying to loosen the tension in her body and relax into the seat of the car. With the blood leaking down her arm hot and sticky, she flexed it and sighed. Just a graze, and not something to worry about. At least not until they’d arrived at the safehouse, out of the way and somewhere to keep under the radar. Harold would surely be on his way, as well. A different route, of course.

Her hand moved away from Shaw’s chest and just rested lightly on her shoulder, now that she was reassured that this was real. Tears pricked at her eyes, but there’d be time for that later when she was alone and didn’t have the hot rage inside of her building up at the way John handled the situation. And at the way their other team member was speaking into their earpieces at the moment. As if he was still trying to convince them this was a bad idea. But the soft weight pressing pressing into her thighs told her otherwise. And it was that weight that lulled her into a soft doze, every bump in the road making her open her eyes, check her surroundings and readjust her hand somewhere on Shaw. Her shoulder, her hair, her side.

Root didn’t dare try to speak, though, and when she wasn’t dozing, she was looking out of her window. Ordinarily, she would have her chin pressed into her palm, but the graze was aching too much for her to move her arm. With the amount of dozing she was doing, it didn’t feel like long before John turned them into a nondescript driveway and pulled up to the house. It was out of the way, but not too isolated from civilization. Hiding in plain sight was what they were always good at and this was no different. Looking down, she briefly wondered if she could manage to carry Shaw now, with how much of her body had just seemed to be wasted away. “Food first, I suppose.” She murmured once John had parked the car and was making his way around to pick up Shaw and carry her inside.

Another long quiet night, with the occasional check-in from the night nurse with a face that looked like a baboon’s ass. At least the day nurse would at least smile at Sameen when she walked in, but this one seemed to have her face set in a permanent sneer. Truthfully, she didn’t even know if it was night, but called her the night nurse because she’d be that bitter too if she had to babysit an invalid while she could be sleeping. The constant beeping was only broken whenever she came in to take her vitals, to make sure that nothing needed messing with. Before all of this, Shaw had never minded being alone. Really, she preferred it. But now, with the constant empty silence with no one but herself to talk to, it was slowly driving her mad.

Mad enough that she began to hear things in her head. Shaw might have been out of commission for months, but her ears still recognized the soft pops of a silenced pistol. Shaking her head, she stared up at the ceiling with a grimace. There was no reason that anyone would be shooting in the facility. Hell, she didn’t even know if there were armed guards in there. For all she knew, she could be stashed in some abandoned hospital in Phuket. It’s not like they had given her the grand tour when she first got here, and she’d woken up handcuffed to the bed that she’d been lying in since she got here after her surgery. Occasionally the nurses would come in to turn her so she wouldn’t develop bed sores, but other than that, she hadn’t moved an inch.

So when the sounds grew louder, Shaw began to wonder whether it really was all in her head. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, which was much harder given her arms had weakened during her captivity. There was the sound of a scuffle, silent to those who were untrained, and Shaw yanked at the cuff on her wrist, unsettled at being unarmed if there was someone out there. The door burst open and the night nurse ran in and tried to slam it shut behind her. Her face finally held something other than contempt: fear. Pulling at the cuff even harder, Shaw wondered whether she’d have the strength to break her thumb, but there was no time. The nurse toppled backward as a hard shove was applied to the door, and as she opened her mouth to scream, a pistol came slamming down onto her temple.

Shaw’s eyes were wide as she took in the figure in the doorway. She imagined that she looked just as surprised as Reese did. He looked worse for the wear. If she had to guess, he’d been wearing that suit for at least two days. There was stubble on his chin and it looked like he’d gone grayer since the last time she’d seen him. Though to be fair, the last time she’d seen him, both of them had been bleeding out from gunshot wounds. He muttered something into his earpiece, and Shaw’s heart lurched. The surprise on his face told her that they hadn’t come looking for her. That they had just managed to stumble across her hell by accident, and though that might have stung at some point, the idea of getting out of here completely took over.

John didn’t make any sort of move to step closer, and his face was unreadable now that the surprise had disappeared, and Shaw hesitated. She knew that things wouldn’t be the same if she ever had the chance to go back to Team Machine, but she didn’t think she would be met like this. But then again, why wouldn’t she? She had betrayed them, even if it had been inadvertently. Gritting her teeth, Shaw remained still, staring back at him with the same stony expression until she heard someone running down the hallway. The strides were smooth so it couldn’t have been Harold, so that left–

“Root,” Shaw breathed out as the hacker came into view. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. Like Reese, she looked exhausted, skinnier and like she might keel over any second and Shaw wanted to berate her. To get angry at her God for letting Root run herself ragged. She wondered whether Root was going to look at her with the same wariness, that they might leave her here because of what she’d done, but then Root was crossing over to her, slim hands reaching for her. Shaw let out a ragged breath that she didn’t know she was holding. This was real, not another drugged up hallucination that Samaritan had concocted for her. She could smell the faint hint of apples, and saw the chipped black nail polish on her fingers. And she said that they were going to get her out of there, and Shaw felt a warm feeling spread through her.

“Root,” Shaw murmured tilting her head back to look the hacker in the eyes. “I…” The words stuck in her throat. They needed to know about her legs, but Shaw had never said the words aloud. There had been no one to tell them to. Using her free hand, she pulled the blanket off her legs, but she didn’t look at her legs, just only looked up at Root. The muscles had had enough time to atrophy until they were basically sticks, that she knew Root would understand what had happened.

After she spoke, Shaw moving out of the corner of her eye made her turn her attention back away from John, who was now speaking to Harold on a private line. There was no doubt in Root’s mind that Harold was trying to convince John to leave Shaw. Leave her to rot while the back up arrived and took her away again. Anger flashed over her features, but she focused on Shaw, her hands still running through her hair, greasy and matted. But her gaze shifted down to Shaw’s legs and she faltered, a shaky exhale on her lips. Of course she knew what had happened. Of course. A hand hovered over the useless limbs and she whirled around to face John, who was still quietly talking to Harold. Anger prevalent on her features, she frantically pressed at her implant and forced her way into the private line. There were still tricks up her sleeve even without the Machine guiding her way through life.

She caught the tail end of Harold explaining that Shaw could be a trap, a double agent or brainwashed or some other ridiculous excuse to leave. Her voice was loud, even to her own ears when she snapped. “She’s not anything, Harold! Sameen is injured, unwashed, and attached to machines.” Her eyes flicked to John and pointed harshly towards her.. person. “Pick her up. We have five minutes to get out of here.” John’s face hardened, and Harold was stammering in her ear, but she ignored him and moved back to Shaw, pressing a kiss to her forehead, not caring about the grime. “We’ll get you back to the safehouse. You’ll be okay.” After what felt like a lifetime, John was moving to pick Shaw up, cradling her against his chest while Root did her best to remove the IV and wires as gently as she could. But they were on a schedule, and needed to go. Both guns out now, she took point, leading them down the elevator (which was not the smartest plan, considering two operatives were waiting when the doors opened on the ground floor) and through the main hall.

Without the Machine, it was harder to gauge where her shots needs to be, but Root managed it with only a graze of a bullet against her arm. She could feel the skin split open and blood leaking down her jacket arm, but there wasn’t any time to take care of it just yet. It was also possible, she ‘missed’ kneecaps as they pushed through and hit a few agents with body shots. There wasn’t a part of Root that seemed to care right now, even if she could hear John quipping up behind her with Shaw in tow. The car they’d stolen would keep them off the radar for a little bit and Root opened the backdoor while Shaw was slipped inside by John, although a little roughly.

Root shot him a glare as he slid into the driver’s seat, and she pushed herself into the backseat with Shaw, helping her sit up as much as she could before adjusting so her head was in Root’s lap. The drive would be a long one, an hour at the most, to get to the safehouse they’d set up for after the operation, and Root curled a protective hand over her side. There was so much she wanted to say to Shaw, but mostly, she just wanted to feel her, touch her, and - Her hand moved to press against her chest, over her heart and she sighed in relief at feeling her heartbeat against her hand.

Shaw had no idea why they even bothered handcuffing her anymore. It wasn’t like anyone cared who or where she was. She pissed into a bag and food was fed to her intravenously, and if it weren’t for the nurse that came in every day to swap things out, Shaw would have sworn she was the last person alive on earth. It hardly would’ve mattered anyway. They never talked to her, no matter how much Shaw wheedled and cursed and yelled at them. it was like she didn’t even exist in their eyes. Neither Martine nor Greer had been by to see her since she had been dumped here, and honestly, Shaw almost missed it. At least then, she had someone to talk to, even if Greer’s jabbering made her want to stab herself in the eye.

It didn’t matter because she wasn’t useful anymore. After she’d been tricked into giving up Root’s cochlear implant, she had gone a little postal. Fury burned in her veins, at Samaritan. At herself mostly. But either way, it led to some reckless and violent outbursts, at the end of which there were twelve dead Samaritan agents. The AI had seemed to come to the conclusion that she would never turn against Team Machine. At that point, if she were Greer, she would’ve just had herself killed. No point in wasting resources and risking the lives of agents just to make sure she stayed put. But instead, he’d done something even more sadistic.

After two months and twelve dead agents, Greer decided that enough was enough. Apparently it wasn’t enough to chain her up like a dog, and she was still too valuable to kill. So instead, he crippled her. It wasn’t even in a fight. Shaw might have even preferred it if she could have fought back. No, he just sedated her and cut off the nerves in her spine, like she was some frog to be dissected in a high school biology class. She just woke up one day, and they were gone.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since that day, and truthfully, Shaw didn’t care. She was never going to leave this place, and even if she did, it wasn’t like she had any purpose anymore. Greer stripped away everything that made her powerful. Who was she without her athleticism and physicality? She wasn’t a nerdling like Root or Finch. Just the thought of sitting at a computer all day made her want to claw her eyes out. So instead, she lay in that bed, one wrist handcuffed to the metal bar, and the constant, incessant beeping of the heart monitor. Waiting for a slow, miserable death.

The mission was a simple one, get in, upload the code into the nearest terminal and make sure the back door was open for Harold to get the information he needed. Steal some hard copies if she could manage it while John distracted the agents that would be patrolling on the basement floor where Root needed to go. Harold was back in the subway, the briefcase holding his child and Root’s God safely tucked away until the deed was done. If all went according to plan, they’d have a virus tucked away and ready to activate at a moment’s notice. She and Harold had labored away on it, making sure it would cripple Samaritan's facial recognition software at least for a little while. Root had a little side project of her own, her own coding laced into the virus to extract bits and pieces for Harold to start working on Her again. His plan to do the same had been too dangerous last time, too much was at stake, but so many times after the entire team had felt like it was go big or go home. Thoughts of Shaw being stuck somewhere, dead or alive, often pushed their way to the forefront of her mind, but she pushed them back forcefully, using that rage and anger to hopefully win this war. Part of Root hoped that once they did find her, she would understand.

Getting into the facility was easier than she expected. With Martine dead, their best agents were nothing but child’s play. John kneecapped them with a silenced pistol while Root kept her own weapons tucked into the waistband of her jeans. Moving through the pristine white hallways left her a little uneasy and she jogged down the stairwell with John two paces ahead, his face hard. Neither of them looked like they were ready for this, John’s face sunken and shallow, his skin looking more like paper pulled tight over the bones underneath. Root knew she looked no different, the bags under her eyes dark and her body skinnier than it had been before. Exhausted was an understatement for the three of them. Harold was in their ears, guiding them the best that he could with access to the blueprints that they’d stolen from another, similar facility.

In the basement, Root stepped up the pace, hunching over a computer and fingers flying over the keyboard. It didn’t take long, Root moving through the code and scanning now that she felt the urgency. John wasn’t near her, going on to wipe out the rest of the agents that could threaten the operation. She was alone, but she could handle it. Clear out the facility was part of the plan that she knew John could handle on his own. The more agents they took out, the easier it would be on them in the long run. But back up would come soon. Samaritan had to know, and Root’s mastery at computers would only delay them by a few minutes.

She was crouching by one of the servers in the room, tinkering away with the hardware and fixing up her own little side project when John’s voice filtered through her implant. “You might want to get up here.” And Root frowned. Not a part of the plan, and something in his voice made her stomach churn with anxiety. Finishing up and pushing the hard drive roughly back into the casing, she packed up her parts again into the backpack she’d worn in. “What floor?” She murmured into the piece and headed back up the stairs, one of her pistols drawn and ready to fire. The ascent was much slower, though Root was taking two steps at a time. Second floor and she was peering around corners, hoping that this wasn’t a fucking trap, not like last time. Her chest tightened at the thought. Root had tried to put that out of her mind as much as possible, the fact that Shaw gave them away and lured her in. Even knowing it was a trap, it still stung.

John was in the doorway of the only opened door in the room, and a nurse lay knocked out cold at his feet, but no visible injuries. She must have called for help, or tried to contact more operatives. He had his gun pointed towards the room, the look on his face undecipherable. A quick glance at her wrist told her they had maybe fifteen minutes to entertain whatever it was John wanted her on the upper floors for. Glancing up at a camera out of instinct, she pushed that lonely feeling away and crossed the distance between the stairwell entrance and John. “Whatever this is, we don’t have time for it. We have to g-..” Root spoke and her words got caught in her throat as she saw just exactly what it was that John was looking at. Her knees buckled and she nearly fell until her companion grabbed her arm and steadied her. The air in her lungs burned and she exhaled roughly.

This had to be a dream, a hallucination of sorts. Shaw. Sameen was here, and she was blinking, breathing, the heart monitor beeping steadily off to the drip. The click of the IV drip machine pulled her out of her head and she stumbled forward, with tears on her cheeks. “Sameen..” All urgency had left her as her hands found their way to her cheeks and hair, rubbing, tugging, and petting as she made sure that this was real. That she was alive. Turning back to John, her face hardened. “We’re taking her with us. I’m not leaving her again.”

Shaw could practically feel the confusion rolling off of Root in waves. She half-expected Root to say something, but then wondered if she would now that she couldn’t hear. So when Root shifted, so they were lying shoulder to shoulder, without a word, Shaw just remained looking up at the ceiling, as though looking over at Root would make it real. Would make it weird. She continued to look up, though she was well aware that Root was still watching her intently. When she broke the silence, that was when Shaw turned her head. She could see the sincerity in her eyes, whereas before, she’d only ever seen a manic, excited gleam. It felt like she was getting a glimpse of the person under the mask of crazy. Opening her mouth to brush it off, Shaw remembered that it wouldn’t make a difference, and instead, she just gave a curt nod.

Hopefully Root would understand what she meant by it. Shaw might be a bitch without feelings, but she couldn’t imagine living life without one of her senses. She relied on each and every one of them to stay alive. It would be disorienting, to say the least. Root pressed a little closer, and though Shaw almost moved away out of instinct, she forced herself to stay still, to allow Root what she clearly needed. No, she didn’t have to do any of this, but Shaw had promised herself that after Cole, she wouldn’t let her guard down again when it came to her team. And as irritating as she was, Root was part of their team. “Sleep.”

#verse: but not empty #empty: 001

On some level, there would always be a part of her that wished she and Shaw were normal. Were just two women figuring things out, oblivious to the world falling apart around them, to the superpower that watched their every move. But most of her would never change this. The way Shaw’s face remained so still and stoic around her, light smiles dusting over her features when she made a joke to the boys. Her time in the cage let her study the rest of them, their quirks, tones of voice. Root found herself studying again, watching as Shaw opened her mouth and closed it almost immediately, and Root almost smiled at that. The tiniest movement of her eyebrows and twitches in her lip did, however, make her smile. There was no sense of the mania that had filled her before she left to rescue the team, ( though they weren’t her team ) only a deep sadness that seemed to cut into even the smallest of facial expressions and movements. Knowing she didn’t belong made it harder.

Her eyes immediately flitted to Shaw’s lips as she saw the muscles begin to move again and caught the repeated word easily. Root lifted a hand to do something, but.. thought better of it, of touching her again and just let it drop with a nod. Two hours of sleep wasn’t enough to heal and though there were tears still prickling at her eyes, she knew she wouldn’t cry anymore. At least not in front of Shaw. Nodding again, she let out a sigh, and turned her head to the ceiling. The sooner she slept, the sooner this nightmare would be over. She flinched a little. No. The nightmare would never be over. There was no way she’d be able to hear again, Control had reassured her of that the moment she’d settled behind her second ear. The tears burned at her eyes but she blinked them away and rolled over, facing away from Shaw. Root curled up into herself as much as she could without knocking Shaw away and started to go through the digits of Pi in her head until she finally drifted away.

Shaw was grateful that despite her lack of general expression and limited empathy, Root seemed up understand what she was asking. She watched silently as she shoved the cracker indelicately into her mouth, the crunch echoing loudly around the empty room. She wondered what it was like to not be able to hear it. Ever since she’d found Root like this, it felt like every sound was amplified, as though she were hearing for both of them. She took the pill and then washed it down with more food and water, and while Shaw wished she would eat the rest of it, she wasn’t about to force her. Instead Root lay down again, her back to Shaw, and she looked away, feeling like she was intruding on this intimate moment.

A strange noise caught her ears, and it took Shaw a second to realize that it was coming from Root. Her shoulders were trembling and short, staccato hiccups were escaping from her mouth and Shaw froze. Medical assistance, she could do. Kneecapping, she could do. Comforting? Shaw had never been good at it. She tried to remember what people had done when her father had died, but all she could remember was the way people almost shuddered under her blank, emotionless gaze. Anything she thought to do felt like it would be false and insincere, and that wasn’t what Root needed. The soft cries made her stomach churn and finally, Shaw crawled onto the cot next to Root.

It was a tight fit, and she didn’t turn to hold Root or anything like that. That wasn’t who she was, wasn’t who they were. But she lay on her back, close enough to at least alert Root to her presence. That she was there. She couldn’t say anything, and didn’t know what she would say, even if Root could hear her. So Shaw did what she knew best, and she lay there, staring up at the ceiling, and offering a silent, stoic grounding point for her. A touchstone in a way. She doubted it would help much, but it was the only thing she could think of.

#verse: but not empty #empty: 001

Root wiped at the tears on her face, now realizing that the breaths she was taking in weren’t just breaths but her vocal cords were betraying her in her moment of inner reflection. The motion behind her made her freeze, but the she took a moment to wipe her face against her forearm and into the cloth of the pillowcase before lifting her head to see what Shaw was doing. If she was reading still or just trying to check her for other injuries. Eyebrows knitted together when she saw her just laying next to her. Nothing about this made sense, and nothing about this would make sense until they could actually speak to one another. And Root wanted more than anything to speak to the Machine, to ask her why, what to do next, how could she help this war, but nothing would come of it. Instead she turned her body fully to lay shoulder to shoulder with Shaw. It was more than she could have brought herself to ask for, and Root would take it as it came. Shifting her body weight, and fighting off more tears and sniffles at her own emotional pain, she settled more into the cot and turned her head to look more fully at Shaw.

If she said anything, would it ruin this? Would she move? Root’s fingers brushed against her thigh, itching to turn over fully and curl into her side. But of course, that was only because she wanted to be comforted by anything she could get her hands on. If it were John here, she might have tried to sit next to him, as well, though the thought made her grimace. It was a sad day when she thought she might need a guard dog for assistance. Her eyes cut to Shaw’s face then, as if guilty that she’d even thought it. She worked her jaw and took a shaky breath, the tears still welling up in her eyes. “Thank you.” Her voice cracked on the simple words, but she hoped her meaning was clear. Thank you for being here, for taking care of me, for putting our differences aside and taking the time to make sure I’m alive. But saying that out loud would only make her leave. Or.. at least she thought so. Her lips pursed together and she nudged herself over a little more, letting herself indulge in this one thing before it was gone. “You didn’t have to, so thank you.”

Shaw could almost feel Root moving behind her, the silent wisp of air as her fingers struggled to make out the proper shapes that would help her communicate now. She continued to page through the books, but there as nothing outstandingly helpful in any of them. Most of them didn’t deal with forced deafness, and how to cope with something as traumatic as that. The sign language book was set down next to her and Shaw looked down at it before going back to her book. She assumed that Root would go back to sleep now, and that maybe she could find some solace in rest, but a hand reached out to brush against her skin, making Shaw tense. Not out of anger or irritation, but of surprise. Eventually the fingers stopped and she felt them tap against her shoulder, so she set her book down and turned to look at Root.

Her name sounded strange, very unlike the silky smooth way she was used to hearing it, and it made the same guilt on her stomach twist a little harder. Root inched forward, briefly resting her head against Shaw’s shoulder before pulling back as though she was afraid that she might shove her off. It left a sour taste in her mouth. Root had tried to torture her, had kidnapped and tased and drugged her, and done plenty of things that gave Shaw no reason to enjoy her presence, but she still wouldn’t hurt her. Not after what she’d done. Not after what she’d lost. After all, Shaw would have a bullet in her skull if it wasn’t for her. She turned more fully as Root’s request filtered through her ears, and she nodded.

Sitting up on her knees, Shaw urged Root back into an upright position, but then realized she was far too short for that to be of any use. Instead, she carefully nudged Root to the side and settled in behind her, so she could carefully peel back the crude bandages behind her ears. Control had at least had the courtesy to clean them before slapping gauze over them, so they weren’t in any danger of getting infected just yet, but she made a mental note to keep an eye on them, just in case. The cuts were clean, brutally efficient. Meant to deal the maximum amount of pain as quickly as possible. With a twisted grimace, Shaw carefully taped the bandages back into place, trying to be as gentle as she could. There wasn’t much she could do for Root, other than to give her medication for the pain. “I’m going to get you so–” She cut herself off abruptly. Root couldn’t hear her, and Shaw was behind her so there was no point. Instead, she eased herself off the cot and held up one finger to Root, meeting her eyes so she could hopefully understand.

Shaw rummaged though the basic medical kits that Harold and John stored in the library. Nowhere near extensive, but they’d have to do for now. There were several bottles and syringes lying around, but she had no desire to inject Root with anything. Instead, she found a pill bottle that said it contained painkillers and she hurried back to the cage, along with a pack of crackers that she snatched. Shaw didn’t know the last time she’d eaten, and the last thing Root needed now was to feel nauseous. She tipped half a pill into Root’s hand, while shoving the crackers in her other. “This should help.” She didn’t know whether Root understood what she said, but it was fairly obvious what Shaw was trying to convey.

#empty: 001 #verse: but not empty

Root sat up when she was urged to and settled in as she felt Shaw’s fingers messing behind her ears. The air was nice on the cuts for a moment before the bandages were replaced and Root was left with a sigh caught in her chest. Turning her head to look at Shaw, she nodded once at the gesture. Hold on, wait. It was understood perfectly and not long after she left the cage set up for her, Shaw was back and pressing crackers and a pill into her hand. Her stomach made an odd churning that she was sure was accompanied by some form of gurgling sound. Closing her hand around the pill, her fingers fumbled with the plastic wrapping before getting it open. Any other time she would have nibbled on it, and barely eaten any of them, but her stomach twisted with discomfort. Apparently only water sloshing around in there wouldn’t do much for anyone. So instead she shoved half the cracker into her mouth and closed her eyes. It was weird, the chewing really just chewing and feeling it crunch between her teeth with no sound to back it up.

The swallow was thick and she almost - almost choked on it, but immediately reached for her water bottle to wash it away. With at least something in her stomach, she put the pill between her teeth and chewed it away as well. The bitter taste made her lips turn down in disgust, but she took another sip of water and pushed the second half of the cracker in her mouth. It wasn’t graceful, and her fingers felt clumsy. Part of her felt embarrassed, that she’d ruined the illusion of who she was trying to be in front of Shaw, so she kept her eyes down turned and slowed down on the eat so her stomach wouldn’t cramp up. Even though it felt like it already was. Half the pack of crackers gone and she set it aside and finished the bottle of water fully before laying back down and curling in on herself. When she was smaller and sick, she remembered wanting to curl into her mother, her hair to be brushed back and played with. But that never happened, not even with the most piteous of whining. Even with Hanna, she’d tried to - all awkward fumbling and wishes on stars. This was somehow worse. Not the deafness, that was obviously more than she’d ever endured, but laying with no comfort in sight.

After Hanna, it’d been a long time before she had found the solace she was looking for. Years and years of searching until the Machine spoke to her.. spoke to her and chose her. That was her comfort, the hand in her hair and the gentle fingertips tracing patterns down her spine. She curled up more involuntarily and kept her head turned away from Shaw, burying into the pillow more. Not only had she lost her only friend, but there was no end to the loneliness after this. No way she’d be able to speak to Her again, and She’d move on to the next interface despite the reassurances that Root was special. Her body was broken. The hardware smashed up and no way to wire it back together again. Her fists clenched and she tried to will herself to hear something. To make herself work again, so she wouldn’t be left with that overwhelming sense of despair. Root hadn’t even realized she was crying until she pressed her face more into the pillow and found it wet.

Time ticked by slowly as Shaw thumbed through the books, trying to find anything and everything on stapedectomies and possible side-effect. Other than the obvious one. When Harold’s books came up empty, which wasn’t surprising considering most of the were just general anatomy books, she moved on to the ones about deafness. Her mind struggled to wrap around how it would feel like to not hear. It was one of the senses she relied on most as an operative, and to feel that empty and alone, it would cripple her. She tried not to imagine Root like the way that deaf people were described in these books, and she swallowed hard again. She buried her hand in her hair in frustration, trying to find something that would fix it. Isn’t that what she was trained for? To fix things? Usually she managed to do that before they even happened, but they couldn’t always win.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Root jerked up, but Shaw didn’t move. Only silently watched as awareness came back to her. She didn’t do the whole, comforting thing. It required a level of something that Shaw had never been good at. Except for maybe with Gen. Looking up as Root approached, her lips tightened imperceptibly at the way the word came out of her mouth. It was mostly right, with only a slight difference, but it was enough to remind Shaw what had been done to Root. With a curt nod, she clambered to her feet, and slipped out into the main library, pulling a bottle of water from the small refrigerator Harold had installed, mostly at her request. Cracking the bottle open, Shaw returned, as Root was emerging from the restroom, looking a little less bloody but just as tired. She wordlessly handed the bottle over, and looked down at her feet, still unable to meet her eye. The titles of the books she’d grabbed made her ears burn slightly, but Root simply picked up the one about sign language before returning to her cot.

Shaw watched her go, her stomach churning as Root settled herself. She didn’t know what to make of it all. Guilt, was something she was sort of familiar with. She’d felt it with Cole, and it was what had pressed her to lurk outside of his parents’ home for weeks, to make sure that they were safe. Anger was there, burning and twisting in her gut but unable to surface just yet. And then, something else. Something a little softer, a little less tangible and Shaw didn’t have the vocabulary to understand it. Whatever it was, it nudged at her until she grabbed the book she was reading and padded over towards the cot. Rather than sitting down next to Root, she instead plopped onto the floor, with her back leaning against the crude mattress. Bear shuffled over to rest his head on her knee, and Shaw just opened the book, without another word, and began to scan it. It was so she could make sure that Root was all right. After all of the drugs coursing through her system, as well as the trauma of the stapedectomies, it would suck if she’d escaped all that just to die now. At least, that’s what Shaw told herself.

#empty: 001 #verse: but not empty

The bottle of water had surprised her, but she tucked it under her arm as she moved back to the cot, feeling that odd uneasiness settle in her gut. Before she was able to tell if someone was following, and when she settled into the cot again, a sip of water in her mouth, she watched carefully as Shaw approached. Turning her attention to the book, she swallowed and trying to start at the beginning. The alphabet. There was no way any of this would stick now, but she still tried to silently make movements mimicking the ones in the books. She’d gotten to about the letter M before she figured it was time to stop and rest her body and mind.

It was slow moving and her arm was getting tired after a while, so she just set the book on the ground next to where Shaw was sitting. Root just watched her thumb through the pages for a bit. Five pages later and she slipped down on the bed, turned on her side and facing the woman on the floor. She reached out and hesitated, withdrawing her hand and tucking it between her thighs and started to count the pages she turned again. With not constant tick of a clock or phone near her, there was no way she could tell the time that had passed.

About seven more pages turned and Root reached out again, this time only a bit more hesitation. Her finger tips grazed against Shaw’s shoulder, tracing up towards the nape of her neck. This would have never happened before, and she was certain Shaw still felt antagonistic towards her, but she took what she could. At the very least, she didn’t think Shaw would snatch at her or yank her while she was still recovering. She let herself indulge for a moment longer before tapping her fingers on her shoulder, trying to get her attention rather than just molest her. Her ears were aching, and nearly every muscle in her body mimicked that ache, especially her chest. “Shaw.” She was trying to speak more, but it just felt - odd, and would have rather stayed mute if that’s how it felt to talk.

But there was no other way to communicate. She scooted closer, half hanging off the cot and resting her forehead on Shaw’s shoulder. The warmth that greeted her made her sigh, but she pulled back immediately, knowing that that would guarantee at the very least her toppling off the cot at Shaw moving abruptly. At least, it’s what she expected. Resting her head back on the pillow, she grimaced at the pain that shot down through her neck and arms. “Shaw..” She repeated, trying to make her mouth work right around the word. “Check my bandages.” She spoke with a grimace, as if it were painful for her to do so. “Pain.”

Shaw narrowly avoided receiving an elbow to her face for her troubles, and a retort was on her tongue before she got a good look at Root. She looked like a hot goddamn mess. Her hair was stringy and matted, and dried blood was smeared on her face. The skin around her eye was beginning to swell and bruise, and yet, she hadn’t uttered a word. When she ducked down to grab the phone by their feet, Shaw almost reached for her, half-afraid she was going to topple over, but then a phone was pushed into her hands, which began to vibrate nonstop. The messages flew across the screen and with each one, Shaw’s lips pressed tighter together until they were just a thin line. Fury coursed through her veins, along with another emotion that she couldn’t accurately pinpoint. Rage at herself, at Control. Because as much as Root was a pain in her ass, no one deserved that. The phone flew from her hand, and crashed against the wall, breaking into several pieces.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched as Root tried to play what happened off like no big deal and the muscle in Shaw’s jaw jumped again. Her smile came out looking like a grimace, and all Shaw wanted to do was to find a hard surface and smash her fist into it repeatedly. Standing abruptly, she pulled the blanket over Root’s still shaking form. “Sleep,” she said, saying the word as clearly as she could. She hoped that Root understood, and she told Bear to stay guarding her. She stalked out of the cage, shoulders tense as she tried to keep the swirling anger in her focused. Blind rage wasn’t going to help anyone, but her fists trembled as she remembered the way Root had told her to leave her behind. If she hadn’t done that, maybe the other woman would still have her hearing. She thought back to Cole, the way ISA bullets had torn through him, and here they were again, hurting another member of her team. Shaw stopped at that. When had she started considering Root a part of their team? She was a freelancer at best, doing her own thing unless to happened to coincide with their irrelevant number.

Scrubbing at her face, Shaw saw that it was nearing 2:30 in the morning, and after the day’s events, and knowing that Root was… not with the ISA anymore, she began to feel drained. John and Harold would be back in the morning, she was sure, and she needed to come up with something to tell them, along with making sure that Root didn’t develop any infections or other problems. Sleep would evade her, even though exhaustion settled bone deep, so instead, Shaw began to search the shelves of the library, hoping that Finch hoarded things other than first editions of books that white men had written a hundred years ago. Finally he found a couple books on anatomy, some about deafness, and one about sign language. Taking the books back to the cage, Shaw set herself up in the corner, opening up one of them as she began to read. Bear was watching the door of the cage, head resting on his paws, but alert in case something happened. What she remembered about audiology from med school was mostly slim, but as she began to read, the familiar drab, medical language began to ease the tension in her spine a little bit.