Archive of Our Own

Tompkins Square Park, Alphabet City

The sun on her black hoodie actually caused Shaw to break out into a light sweat despite the cool air on this mid-spring morning.  She heaved the tennis ball across the expanse of grass and watched Bear race after it before swiping the sleeve of the hoodie across her forehead.

“What the hell happened to the snow storm they were threatening us with?” she growled, her eyes tracking the Belgian Malinois as he leapt after the bounding yellow sphere.

“A change in the Jetstream caused an unexpected push from a high pressure system through the area,” She said into Shaw’s earwig. “This resulted in the anticipated winter weather to move off-shore and warmer, more seasonable temperatures here in the city.”

Shaw snorted. “Thanks for the info, Siri, but that was a rhetorical question.”

Baby Machine huffed. “I’m still trying to understand the nuances of human conversation. Why do you have so many rules?”

“To confound all-seeing ASI’s and remind them they’re not human.”

“Now, Sameen,” Root’s voice said suddenly. The real Root’s voice, who was listening in on their chat as she entered the park. “Don’t tease Her, it’s not nice.” She slid up to Shaw’s side just as Bear came trotting back. “How are my two favorite girls?” she asked while also giving the military dog a scratch behind the ears.

“Hungry-,” Shaw growled.

“Confused-,” Baby Machine muttered simultaneously.

“Surprise,” Root smirked. She dropped onto the nearby bench and let Bear lean up against her so she could continue her ministrations. “And how’s my favorite big man?” she baby-talked to the military dog. He responded with happy whines encouraging her to keep scratching. “You’re the easiest to deal with you know that?”

“Hey!” Shaw protested

Baby Machine hummed. “She’s not wrong,” She stated.

Tucking Bear’s chewed up tennis ball into her hoodie pocket; Shaw lowered herself down next to Root. “How’d the appointment go?” she asked.

“Very well,” the other woman replied, never taking her eyes from the drooling, happy dog with his head in her lap. “Especially for a first consult. We’ll set a date for the implantation in the near future.”

“I’ll come with you for that,” the Persian replied.

“I think I’ll be okay, Sameen.”

“I will come with you for that,” was the firmly stated response.

Root dipped her head and smiled to herself, reveling in her compact Persian’s protectiveness. “Thank you,” she said softly.

“Don’t get all soft and weepy,” Shaw replied grumpily. “I’m not going to hold your hand; I’m going to make sure you don’t come out a vegetable.”

There was a mechanical snort in their earwigs. “The compassion, Sameen,” She remarked. “How do you contain yourself?”

Growling, the Persian stood and stared across the park. “Shut up. I’m hungry.” She started walking. “Let’s eat. You’re buying.”

“Four sentences, all two words each. Complete conversation. Amazing.”

“That’s my beautiful firecracker,” Root responded, rising to her feet before following after Shaw. “Deliberate and precise.” She paused and grinned. “In more ways than one.”

“I heard that!”

“It’s a compliment, Sweetie. Most definitely a compliment.”

Shaw stopped walking and half turned to Root at the taller woman caught up to her. “You are so fucking weird.”

Root gave her a silly grin. “It’s part of my charm,” she sing-songed as she walked right on by.

Shaw snorted. “We have vastly different definitions of charm,” she muttered under her breath. With a shake of her head, she caught up to the other woman and they exited the park.

Team Machine Subway HQ, Chinatown

“May I ask a question?” She said while Root sat at the main terminal watching code scroll down the monitor screen.

“Of course,” the former hacker replied, bringing her paper coffee cup to her lips. “Don’t feel as though you have to ask permission.”

“Are you in love with Shaw? ”

Root almost choked on her latte and sat back in the chair. “Hmm, maybe you should ask permission. At least so I can prepare myself…”

“Was I being too forward? ”

“Well,” Root had to think about it for a few moments. “There are… rules, if you will, for polite conversation. One rule is: Don’t lead with a loaded question.”

There was whirring in the hard drive as Baby Machine processed this information. “Noted,” She replied. There was a pause. “Are you?”

Smiling at the single-mindedness of the ASI anxious to learn more about her charges, Root crossed her arms as she thought about it. “I think I've always been in love with Sameen. There's no doubt in my mind that I've loved her for as long as I can remember,” the slender woman explained in a soft voice. “However, I’m probably not the best person to ask about what it means to be in love, though. At least not in the traditional way.”

"Why do you say that? ”

Root smiled at the laptop’s camera. “My life did not prepare me for certain situations and feelings. I was on my own very young and never really… developed emotionally as other kids my age did.” With a sigh, she began typing on the keyboard once more. “For that reason, I don’t react as other people would in social situations. I come on too strong, I flirt at the wrong time, I make a joke at an inappropriate moment, I become attached to a person too quickly and too easily and that tends to turn them off. But what I feel for Shaw and how I feel when I'm with Shaw, and how deeply I feel it, to me that's what it means to be in love.”

Baby Machine hummed as she processed Root's words. "From the research I have done since becoming functional, there is no one specific definition of what it means to be in love. But what you feel for Sameen does sound very much like many of the emotions the feeling of being in love evokes."  There was another pause as She added the information she had just learned to her Memory. "And the way you feel things is what makes you uniquely you. ”

Root chuckled. “Thank you,” she replied fondly.

“It is what Sameen missed about you,” Baby Machine informed her.

The sincerity of those words cause tears to prick at Root’s eyes. She cleared her throat of the lump that had formed there.  “I missed her, too.” Dropping her hand onto the terminal, she tapped her fingers absentmindedly on the metal desktop. “She's what I care about the most in my life, no offense. And I worry about her.”

“No offense taken, I do understand. Probably better than my predecessor would have. If it makes you feel any better, the feeling is mutual. She worries about you, as well.” Baby Machine paused as if choosing Her words carefully. “Your previous recklessness was a sore point with her. And she blamed herself for that. Well, herself and the original Machine.”

“It wasn’t her fault,” Root replied softly. “Living alone too long without anyone to even give a thought to your existence led to my irresponsibility. I’ve learned a lot since then.” She paused. “Is the therapy really working for Shaw?”

“Yes, it has been greatly beneficial. I know you wish to know more about her captivity, but I cannot betray her confidence. She'll tell you when she’s ready. I do hope you understand that there are times when I cannot divulge a secret and times that I feel it is necessary to actually do so."

The former hacker sighed. “I know. But you know that patience isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

Baby Machine hummed. “So I’ve learned.”

“But for Sameen, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“As she would for you.” There was a pause and the CPU towers hummed as hard drives worked while Root and the Machine updated Her core heuristics. “The parameters are in place.” She said after a moment. “This should allow my calculation time to increase." As code scrolled down the computer screen, they both made additions and corrections before a tone pinged from the main unit. “I’ve located another operative.”

Root immediately stopped what she was doing and rolled her chair over to the monitor opening windows with information. “Who is she?” she asked, taking in a CCTV screen capture of an African-American woman as she walked across a parking lot. “And call Shaw.”

“Sameen is already on her way.” There was a whirring as the system searched trillions of bytes of information in seconds. “Before the Fall, she was identified as Asset 295, Mona Williamson*. She was Jeff Blackwell’s recruiter and handler, as well as carrying out other bio-medical duties for Samaritan.”

“Bio-medical? What do you mean?”

“Basically, she was in charge of the Genetic Epidemiology program. ”

“Ah, yes, Samaritan’s grand Master Race experiment. Didn’t work out well for Hitler in the end, either, did it?”

Baby Machine hummed. “No, but millions of innocents died and suffered during the process.”

"What about her work with Blackwell. What can you tell me?"

"Her main duties in regards to Blackwell were to assign him tasks that brought him deeper into the workings of Samaritan. She directed him to release the virus that caused the epidemic at the hospital that infected and killed several people, as well as almost killing Lionel."

"Anything else?" Root asked, a sense of foreboding in her tone.

Baby Machine gave a huff. "Yes, she also directed Blackwell to the roof of the building that fateful day when you were almost killed by a sniper's bullet. Her instructions were for him to kill Harold but your death was just as important to Samaritan's plans."

“Well, if I didn’t hate her already…,” the brunette murmured.

"This is interesting. She currently works for a DNA lab, Strand Laboratories. They collect, store and map the DNA of willing donors. ”

“So, she’s not completely off the Samaritan train if she’s still working to collect DNA samples.” She sat forward and read over the Strand Labs profile from the Internet. “Any idea what she’s working on?”

“ I would imagine it’s just as you said, she still believes that Samaritan’s plans were not only feasible, but beneficial to mankind.  Searching her computer’s hard drive, including all deleted history and dark web searches, she seems almost certain Samaritan will return one day. She appears to be more than willing to pick up the mantle of Samaritan's number one acolyte if that were to ever happen. ”

“So, she’s as delusional as Greer?”

"So it would appear. ”

"Dandy.”

Boots stomping down the Subway’s concrete steps indicated Shaw’s arrival along with Bear. The Belgian Malinois immediately separated himself from his human and trotted over to his bed, dropping down onto his belly and resting his chin on a chewed up bunny slipper. Shaking her head at him, Shaw entered the train car.

“So, who’s this asset again?” Shaw growled, hands on the desk to lean closer to the monitor. “She was obnoxiously unforthcoming on the walk over here.”

“I gave you the highlights,” Baby Machine replied huffily. “I’ll be more in-depth now that you’re here so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

“Well, get on with it, Siri.”

Baby Machine gave a little huff, then, with a series of windows opening on the monitor in front of them, began speaking. “Mona Williamson, 42, education unknown. Known as Asset 295 within the Samaritan organization, she was a recruiter and handler for the organization.”

“Yeah, the ginger bitch who kil- tried to kill Root was one of hers, right?”

“A gold star for you, Sameen,” She replied. “She also instituted the DNA collection program for recording into the NHC DNA database. It was Samaritan’s bright idea to collect DNA information on the public. With mapping, storing and coding, it would make finding soldiers with immunities to certain virus strains easier, as well as weeding out those with weaker immune systems or deficiencies that could be passed on to their offspring. Samaritan’s plan was an army of super soldiers and keeping those who were deemed undesirable from reproducing.”

“Jesus,” Shaw grunted, “These people were fucking delusional. Nazi Germany, anybody?”

“But in this instance, it would be incredibly efficient and workable,” Root explained. “By having a searchable database and a protectorate that was the law, Samaritan could create the perfect society. By Samaritan’s standards, of course.”

“What’s she doing now?”

“Still working towards complete DNA collection of the public.”

"Mona Williamson is a true believer of Samaritan. She was hand chosen by John Greer to lead this endeavor for Samaritan and to recruit, train and lead Assets such as Jeff Blackwell. She is continuing her work in the hopes that Samaritan will one day rise from the ashes and resume its work dismantling humanity. ”

“Seriously,” Shaw muttered, “these assholes are driving me to drink with their batshit crazy.” She sat back down next to Root and glanced back and forth between the monitor and her crazy cohort. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I will monitor her over the next several days,” She replied. “Once I have determined her patterns, I will let you know. You can take it from there.”

Shaw was silent for a moment before speaking. “She gave that asshole the orders to kill Finch, didn’t she? And he got Root instead?”

“Yes. ”

“Well, that’s all I need to know.”

Root grinned. “You are my hero.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “Shut up.”

“I’m afraid that removing Asset 295 from the landscape may raise some red flags,” Baby Machine stated as the two women maintained eye contact and the tension in the room rose dramatically.

“How?” Shaw growled. She didn’t want anything drawing attention to them or stopping them from the mission they had set for themselves.

“The previous Assets you have dealt with had questionable pasts. Gambling debts, drug dependency, dangerous acquaintances. Mona Williamson appears to be an upstanding citizen with no skeletons in her closet. ”

“So we just let her go about her business collecting DNA hoping that Samaritan someday rises from the ashes?”

“Oh, no, she won’t get away.” Root replied, clicking through screens on the computer in front of her. “She’ll meet with an accident in the containment unit at Strand Labs.”

Shaw looked mildly perplexed. “What kind of accident?”

“Well, apparently, there’s faulty locks and venting in the storage unit in the DNA lab.” Root sighed and tilted her head to the side, giving the Persian her best Root’s-a-little-off-her-rocker look. “Let’s just say the excess amounts of CO2 she’ll be exposed to when she’s accidentally locked in the unit will cause severe hypercapnia, most likely leading to her death.”

“Seriously, Root, planning and carrying that out could take weeks.”

“So impatient, Sweetie,” Root smirked. “So, you’re saying its hammer time?”

Shaw gave a little smile. “It’s hammer time.”

Leaning back, the taller woman tossed the file onto the desk. “Scorched earth policy, it is.”

Shaw gave her a satisfied smirk.

Strand Labs, Mott Haven, The Bronx

Pulling the black SUV to the curb, Shaw turned the engine off and eyed the dark building down the block. The entire street was pitch black, streetlights either burned out, broken or non-existent. In the seat beside her, Root searched through the duffle bag in her lap, cataloging the supplies.

“How much Semtex you got in there?” the Persian asked as she checked her USP before leaning forward to shove it in the waistband of her black jeans.

Root grinned. “Enough to bring down that building.”

“Good.” Shaw exited the SUV and started walking. “Hurry up, Nerd. I’m hungry.”

“When are you not?” She asked in their earwigs.

“I wasn’t talking to you, Watson.”

“Oh, that’s a new one.” There was a pause and a whir in their ears. “I’ve spoken to Watson. Nice enough, but not very bright.”

Shaw snorted as Root jumped out of the truck to follow. “Be nice,” the hacker said as she tossed the strap of the duffle over her head so her hands were free and hurried to catch up to the Persian. “He’s just not as evolved as you are.”

“Please. On the evolutionary scale, Watson is still rather troglodytic. It will take several centuries for him to reach the enlightenment I have already obtained. ”

“How unpretentious of you,” Shaw muttered.

“It’s not ego, Sameen. Just fact."

The Persian gave Root a sidelong glance. “You might want to program some humility into Big Sister there when we get back to the Batcave.”

Root just grinned as they neared the Strand Labs building. “There’s not enough code in the world,” she murmured in reply.

Sharing a knowing grin**, they slipped down the alley and the rear of the facility, where She had informed them an unobtrusive, unguarded entrance awaited.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a week and a half of Baby Machine tracking Mona Williamson’s movements, the three decided the best course of action included destroying Strand Labs and their massive DNA database by blowing it to smithereens.

Scorched earth policy, indeed.

The building for the most part was darkened in the late night hours, but security lighting kept the hallways faintly lit as the two women followed Baby Machine’s instructions to the server room. They had decided that planting their ordnance in the room containing the DNA records would be the best. Placing the Semtex devices in strategic locations would also bring the building down neatly, destroying everything contained within the cavernous structure.

“The explosive, combined with the dry ice they use to store active samples, will cause a chemical reaction,” Root had said as they devised their plan. “The containment units will be incinerated. Plus, with Semtex being waterproof, what we plant to bring the building down will not be affected by any sprinkler systems initial fires may trigger.”

“Good,” Shaw had growled in reply. “I don’t want any geneticist being able to figure this out and start this little plan over again.”

“No worries. She’s also compromising the data storage, nothing will be retrieved from the servers if any of them even survive the explosion.”

“They won’t,” She informed them haughtily. “If you place the devices as I’ve instructed, nothing will remain of the interior of the facility. Especially at the main blast points.”

Now, as directed by Baby Machine, the two women slipped down the dimly lit hallway to the main server room. As they approached, the door access card reader beeped and clicked, the red light turning green as the door lock disengaged and allowed them entrance.

The server room door whooshed open silently as they entered. The room itself was bordering on bitter cold to maintain a constant temperature for the servers to keep them from overheating. Ignoring the keyboard and main terminal on the steel and glass desk in the middle of the room for the moment, Root went deep into the server cluster, slipping the duffle bag off her shoulder and unzipping the main compartment.

“Where first?” Shaw asked, reaching in to gently grasp one of the small explosive devices they had assembled.

Root sat back on her haunches and looked around. “Looks like they have 15 servers, so, there, there and there, to start,” she replied, pointing at every third server. ”I’ll be right back.”

"Root,” the Persian growled warningly.

“Don’t worry, Sweetie,” the taller woman grinned back at her. “I’m just going to give the system a little cold.”

Shaw’s brow knitted in confusion. “A cold?”

Root's tinkling laugh could be heard over the sound of the running servers. “A virus, Sweetie. I’m going to plant a little friend.”

“Be careful and don’t get your ass caught.”

“Never, Sameen. Never. Don’t you know by now that my ass is yours and yours alone?”

Shaw glared at her for a long, silent moment, then rolled her eyes and disappeared into the server stacks.

While the former Marine sniper continued planting the devices and setting the timers, Root moved to the terminal they had sidestepped when they entered. Pulling a small flash drive from her pocket, she plugged it into the USB port and quickly accessed the Master processor. Easily by-passing the firewall, the hacker uploaded a version of the Oregon Trail virus she had unleashed on what remained of Samaritan’s code. While it wouldn’t release any questionable photos to the press or order 75 pizzas to a sitting Senator for days, it would still cause the program’s code to slowly destroy itself, untraceable, irretrievable and completely self-consuming.

Like Samaritan, nothing would be left of Strand Labs programming, databases or information.

Once the virus was uploaded, Root removed the flash drive and watched as the code began to falter. Lights on servers began to flicker before stabilizing, commands failed and stopped running, eventually the virus destroyed the running code before beginning its own deterioration.

As she watched, Shaw set the last explosive and returned to her side. “Ready?” the Persian asked.

“How long?”

Shaw glanced at her watch. “Twenty-two minutes. Enough time to set the rest of the devices and get clear.”

Root tossed her hair over her shoulder and smiled up at the other woman. “Then let’s finish with our party favors and go get something to eat.”

“Woman after my own heart,” Shaw replied.

“Oh, Sweetie, be honest. I already have it.”

With a glower, the former ISA operative shoved the taller woman toward to door. “Whatever.  Just shut up and move.”

Grinning wickedly, Root leaned close as they exited the server room, her amber eyes sparkling in the soft light. “I love it when you get bossy.”

Rolling her eyes, Shaw stomped off in the direction of the containment unit, not waiting to see if the taller woman even bothered to follow. Behind her, Root smirked as she watched Shaw stride angrily away, her eyes locked directly on the Persian’s tight backside.

“Stop staring at my ass and move it,” Shaw’s voice echoed quietly down the hallway, unable to see the grin on the other woman’s delighted face.

Stealthily, they entered the containment unit and planted explosives in the cold room where active cultures were stored. Setting the last timers, they slipped out into the hall and waited for Baby Machine’s directions.

"There’s a stairwell at the end of the hallway. Take it down to the lower level,” She instructed. “There are major support beams there that will bring the building down.”

Shaw shouldered the door open just as gunfire erupted and a bullet whizzed past her head. “Shit!” she exclaimed as she threw herself backwards out of the doorway and yanked the door closed behind her, falling into Root in the process and tumbling the both of them to the floor.

“Thanks for the fucking warning, you bucket of bolts!” she snarled, reaching behind her back and yanking out her USP Compact. Flicking off the safety and levering back the slide to chamber a round, she got to her knees and reached for the doorknob once more. “What the hell-?!”

“Sorry, they were in a dead spot, no cameras. ”

“And now?”

“Well, obviously now I can see them. There are three security guards in the stairwell.”

“Thanks for the newsflash.”

“How’d they know we were here?” Root asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” She replied, the whirring in their earwigs indicating her perplexity and a continuous search for the cause of their detection. “I have control of the security system for the entire facility. They didn’t spot you on any security feeds.”

“Don’t care,” Shaw snapped, antsy to get some action. “Let’s shoot guns.”

Beside Shaw, Root had moved into a crouch and quickly pulled two Smith & Wesson’s from behind her back. Shaw was silent for a moment as the image caused something to flare to life in her chest. She quickly shook her head to regain control.

“You okay, Sweetie?” Root asked with a knowing grin.

Despite herself, the Persian huffed out a chuckle. “That will never get old,” she admitted with a smile.

Root tilted her head flirtily to the side. “I know, Sameen,” she agreed with a smile.

Turning her attention to the stairwell, Shaw twisted the doorknob and glanced over at her partner. “You ready?”

“For anything,” Root responded cheekily. Shaw started to shove the door open. “Wait!”

“Root!”

“It’s just… these are regular security guards, not Samaritan minions. Kneecaps only, please.”

“Agreed. Can we cripple them now, please?”

“After you, Sameen.”

“Once you open the door,” She relayed into their earwigs, “there will be one on the forth step. Aim at a 30 degree downward angle. The other 2 are behind him at 23 and 16 degrees each. Go… now.”

Shaw threw the door open and let her upper body fall through the doorway. Just as she aimed and fired, Root lunged in behind her, both guns pointing down the stairs and bullets flying. Before the sound of gunfire had finished echoing up and down the stairwell, three woefully under-trained security guards were lying on the concrete steps, clutching ruined knees and moaning in pain.

“Sorry, boys,” Root apologized as she grabbed the duffle bag from the hallway and Shaw hurried down the stairs, collecting fallen guns as they went. “Nothing personal, you know.”

“Not for you, maybe,” Shaw grunted. “Assholes tried to shoot me in the head.”

With a grin, Root led the way down the stairs past the hobbled security guards. "By the way," she said in that lilting, blasé manner she had, "you might want to get out of the building as quickly as possible." Normally, the tone drove Shaw nuts, but the Persian was actually beginning to enjoy the way the taller woman delighted in teasing the enemy. 

They made their way to the sublevel where Baby Machine determined the devices for implosion should be set. The space was dark and only the sound of their boots on the concrete echoed across the expanse.

It took just minutes to wrap primacord and packets of Semtex to four main support pillars and connect them remotely to a handheld detonation box. Setting the signal and checking the box, Root activated the detonator and stood.

“That should do it. Let’s get out of here.”

“Now that sounds like a great idea,” Shaw replied as they headed to an exit She had directed them towards.

“You won’t win,” a female voice said suddenly, the same moment Mona Williamson stepped out from behind a concrete pillar.

“Jesus Christ, Siri!” Shaw growled as she and Root pulled up short in front of the former Samaritan operative. The Persian’s gun arm was raised and the barrel of her .9mm pointed square at the other woman’s forehead instinctually as she shoved Root to safety  behind her back. “Can you see anything?!!”

“If Mona Williamson is in charge of the facility then it would be fair to say she knows how to avoid detection,” Baby Machine responded indignantly, using Finch’s voice to show Her displeasure at being reprimanded. “She was a high-level Samaritan Asset for several years.”

“Your attitude sucks.”

The woman who had stepped directly into the path of their escape was staring at Root in an almost reverent way. Shaw was creeped out by the seemingly unabashed wonder on the dark-skinned woman’s face.

“You’re her, aren’t you?” Mona Williamson asked with something akin to awe. “The Machine’s Analog Interface.”

“Don’t act like this is meeting your idol,” Shaw growled. “You almost got her killed.”

The woman glanced at Shaw and shook her head. “She was not my target, I assure you.”

“That makes me feel much better,” Root deadpanned.

“You’re really creepy, you know that?” Shaw added.

“You still completed your objective,” Root cut in, giving Shaw a look before turning back to the former Samaritan operative. “Your lap dog killed the Machine’s Analog Interface. Almost as good as killing Her creator, right?”

“It helped to accomplish an objective, yes,” the woman replied. “It’s just a shame it didn’t last long. How did you do it? How did five people manage to bring down the most highly advanced Artificial Super Intelligence known to man?”

“Hey!” She squawked in Root and Shaw’s earwigs in indignation. “I resent that! My predecessor was immeasurably more advanced! And we won!”

"Hubris,” Root replied after grimacing at the outrage in her ear. “It started with Samaritan but Greer, Lambert, Martine, all of you let your ambition and arrogance lead you. That’s how a little rag-tag group of just five people brought you down. We didn’t have the same conceit. And we believed in humanity.”

Shaw scowled. “And it was six if you count the dog…”

Ignoring Shaw’s petulance, the operative tried to appeal to Root. “Samaritan will return soon,” she said. “It will need the proper hand to guide it.”

Root snorted. “Even if that were true, which believe me, it’s not, I would do everything in my power to once again destroy it and everyone who followed it. But I can guarantee you that it will never happen. Samaritan’s as dead as the Palm Pilot.”

“She’s willing to die for her belief in Samaritan,” Baby Machine informed them in their earwigs. “She’ll stay here even though she now knows you plan on destroying her work.”

“Good,” Shaw muttered under her breath. “Makes our job easier.”

Root glanced back over her shoulder at the former Samaritan Asset as she and Shaw casually walked away. “By the way, you might want to run.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the dark of the night, Root and Shaw exited the building and climbed into the black SUV. With the headlights still off on the big vehicle, Shaw pulled silently away from the curb. Stopping at the end of the block at a stop sign, Root held up the detonator box, her thumb on the red button. She glanced at Shaw and winked, horribly, before pressing it.

A deep rumbling began, causing the street to tremble as the implosion triggered. Shaw sat stoically, staring straight ahead then drove away.

Heedless of the warning she had received from the Machine’s Analog Interface, Mona Williamson had returned to her office. She still believed in Samaritan, she knew it to be the only way for humanity to survive. She gave everything to the cause and was proudly designated Asset 295. She would gladly give her life for her belief in the malevolent ASI.

Before the black SUV reached the Deegan Expressway, the night lit up behind them in a bright orange fireball.  Shaw kept driving as Root sat silently beside her.

Shaw's Loft, Alphabet City

“An explosion rocked the Mott Haven waterfront warehouse district early in the overnight hours,” the news anchor reported from the TV mounted on the wall, “destroying a business and several surrounding unoccupied buildings. After thoroughly combing through the rubble, officials state there was only one fatality, 42-year old Mona Williamson, director of Strand Labs. The business was a total loss and we’ve learned the company lost billions of bytes of stored DNA data. The cause of the blast is unknown at this time. Mona Williamson had no family.”

Shaw changed channels to the hockey game and settled back onto the sofa. “What does that bring our total to?”

“Eight high-ranking Samaritan operatives left,” She replied in their earwigs. “I am still attempting to locate them.”

Shaw grunted and ran a hand down her face. “I could sleep for a week,” she muttered.  She glanced at Root, who stood and went to the dining room table, which was covered with electronics, cables and cords. “What are you doing?”

Root glanced up, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose. “Hmm?” Looking back down, she found the cable she needed and returned to her laptop. “Nothing, why?”

“Aren’t you tired? I’m exhausted.”

“Go to bed if you want, I’m going to finish this up.”

Shaw turned off the TV and stood, stretching as she watched the taller woman settle at the laptop once more. “Don’t stay up late, Root. You’re as tired as I am.”

Looking up again, Root gave the Persian a distracted little smile. “Okay.”

With that, Shaw prepared for bed while Root continued working for a while longer. By the time Root slipped between the cool sheets an hour or so later, the Persian was fast asleep, her back to Root’s side of the bed. Root spent a long moment taking in the tank top-clad body beside her, a strong shoulder exposed to the air. With a little smile, the former killer for hire leaned close and pressed her lips to the warm skin before turning on her side and closing her eyes. Listening to Shaw’s deep, regular breathing relaxed her gradually until she, too, fell into a deep and, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Shaw woke the next morning, the other side of the bed was empty and the sheets cold. She sat up to find Bear sitting at the end of the bed, balefully eyeing her with a look that told her he was in need of breakfast and a walk.

“Root?” she called, padding across the loft in her pajama pants and tank top. The loft was silent save for her voice and Bear’s claws clicking across the hardwood floor at her heels. “Okay, Siri, where is she?”

There was a click and Root’s voice flowed out of the computer speakers on the desk. “I am not allowed to say,” She responded, sounding a bit petulant at the instructions from her Analog Interface to keep her whereabouts a secret.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Shaw snapped. “You didn’t send her out on some insane deadly mission, did you? I’ll rip you apart gigabyte by gigabyte if you did, you Radio Shack reject!”

"I would never do that, Sameen. That was something my predecessor did all too frequently and something I know you did not agree with. I do not approve, either. ”

“Damn right, I didn’t agree with it. That fucking thing sent her out to her death on too many occasions.” Taking a deep breath, Shaw started the coffee maker then leaned her hands on the counter, letting her head fall forward in an effort to regain control of her anger. “Okay, what’s going on with her?” she eventually asked.

Baby Machine was silent for so long, Shaw thought for a moment she had ended their conversation. After what seemed like minutes, She sighed. “If I tell you she’ll be mad that I betrayed her confidence. But-.”

“But?”

"But if I don't tell you, you'll threaten, once again, to unload a clip into my main processor. ”

“Well, you got that right.”

“May I ask you a question? ”

“If I say ‘no’, you’re just going to ask anyway, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” There was a pop and static momentarily then, “Do you love Root?”

Shaw’s head snapped up so fast, she felt a muscle clench in her neck. “What the fuck-?”

"I would honestly like to know, Sameen. What are your feelings for Root? ”

“I’m a sociopath,” Shaw growled. “I don’t have-.”

“Don’t have feelings, yeah, blah, blah, blah. I've heard that before in one of the many recordings the previous Machine left behind. That seems to be your favorite response when you're confronted with questions about your emotions. Which you do have, by the way. I've seen archived footage of you sacrificing yourself for her in the basement of the Stock Exchange."

"That was for the mission," Shaw muttered.

"Riiight," She sighed through the speakers. "That's why it included a desperate kiss. And let's not forget over 7000 simulations where you put a bullet in your own head rather than hurt her in any way. Man, you are stubborn, aren't you? Let me ask you another question then. How do you feel about Root’s computer things all over the dining room table? All of her clothes in the closet? That-,” Baby Machine approximated a cough, “-secret box under the bed?”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “It’s got all the stuff from her previous aliases, you creep. And that’s three questions.”

“And? ”

"I don’t care,” the Persian answered honestly after barely thinking about it. “I don’t mind that she’s taking over the place with her computer crap and that her stuff is taking up room in the closet.”

"It doesn’t bother you? ”

Shaw scowled. “No, why should it? I’m used to it.”

“Have you told her that?”

“I didn't think I had to,” she replied.

Baby Machine sighed. Such obstinance. Breaking a confidence goes against her code, but seeing her Analog Interface at a crossroads and unsure of her place in Shaw’s life troubled Her. But She calculated the odds in this instance and decided it was better for Root if Shaw understood where Root was in her life. “She’s looking at apartments,” She revealed softly.

Shaw moved to the sofa and sat. “She’s what? Why’s she doing that?”

“She’s trying not to crowd you, Sameen,” Baby Machine explained gently. “Root has never, ever wanted to change you, she loves you for who you are. For what you are. And she knows that living together is not something you would normally agree to. You need your space and she accepts that.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

"You're all she cares about, Sameen. She’s only trying to do what she feels you would want. ”

Sitting back on the sofa, Shaw thought about what Baby Machine had told her. Yes, even when Root was deviling the crap out of her, she only wanted the best for Shaw. She knew when to keep her distance. Pushing the envelope when she could, she still backed off when she sensed Shaw was not in the mood for anything, whether it be a little companionship or flirting during a mission or when she just wanted a little solitude.

“Well, shit.”

“You do feel for her, don’t you?”  Shaw just nodded mutely. “She doesn’t expect anything more than that, just the knowledge that you do care. It’s more than she’s ever had in her life.”

Shaw rubbed her face with both hands. Talking about this was seriously outside of her comfort zone. "I've told her she was the most important person in my life," she barked in frustration. "What she means to me."

"I know. And I know that it is uncomfortable for you to express your feelings and your Axis II is your shield, but, Sameen, if she's that important to you..."

"I know," Shaw responded, knowing that damn ASI was right. "You're right," she admitted, "I know."

There was a momentary pause. "She’ll be returning in 12.4 seconds. Please don’t let her know I told you. She swore me to secre-.”

Almost simultaneously as the lock clicking on the door to the loft, Baby Machine stopped speaking and music poured softly from the computer speakers. Shaw just glared at the laptop camera. The red light blinked insolently at her.

“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped, her natural defensiveness showing itself and as if the entire conversation with the Machine hadn't even happened.

A brown paper bag landed on the Persian’s stomach. “Breakfast,” Root replied, bending down to press her lips to Shaw’s cheek. “You like bear claw’s, right?”

Humming in agreement, Shaw opened the bag, spying 2 huge bear claws, a cheese Danish and 3 donuts in the bag dotted with grease stains. The rolls were still warm, the heat escaping the sack and hitting Shaw in the face along with the sweet scent of the treats. “What’s the occasion?” she muttered, shoving a bear claw in her mouth before rising to follow Root into the kitchen space. “Root?”

“Can’t a girl bring her favorite girl some sweet treats?”

Shaw scowled. “Without an ulterior motive? Not you, no.” Chewing the giant mouthful of pastry in her mouth, Shaw got up and strode towards the taller woman. “What’s going on,” she demanded gently.

Root sighed, her head tilted at that angle Shaw used to think was annoying but now thinks is an endearingly flirty Root. “Nothing, Sweetie,” she replied with a toss of her hair, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Nothing at all.”

Shaw knew she was lying. Root knew Shaw knew she was lying. The only problem was, how did Shaw get Root to admit what was going through her head? Before she could force the issue; however, there was a pinging sound and the click of a speaker.

“I have received a number,” She stated in the silence of the loft. “Want the information?”

Tossing the sack full of pastries on the kitchen counter, Shaw wiped her mouth with her forearm. “Something’s bugging you,” she stated, her eyes taking in the somber woman before her with honest concern. “You’re all Eeyore again and I don't like it. This isn’t over.” She stomped across the loft. “Speak up, Skynet.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Okay, what the fuck is up with this weather,” Shaw grumbled as they strode down the sidewalk after taking care of the number Baby Machine had alerted them to. For as warm as it had been at the park the previous week, it was now twice as cold. Bundled in a peacoat and watchman’s cap, she glanced at Root, walking solemnly beside her in a heavy coat and knit cap of her own. “What fucking season is it, anyway?”

“What you are experiencing are the effects of Climate Change,” Baby Machine said into their earwigs. “Changes in Jet Streams and weather patterns along with the warming and melting of the polar icecaps have made temperatures and weather events more unpredictable.”

“Again,” Shaw grunted, “rhetorical, Siri.” Glancing sideways again, she caught Root’s gaze on the ground in front of her, an introspective look in her eyes. “Okay,” she snapped, grabbing Root’s arm and pulling her to a stop. “There’s only so much of this shit I can take. What the hell is going on with you? Where were you this morning?”

She was giving Root the chance to tell her about the apartment hunting so they could hash the whole thing out. She didn’t want to out Baby Machine, betraying her confidence, but she was slowly losing her patience with Root’s downcast expression.

Root sighed. “Just out. I wanted to get breakfast. I’m not allowed to cook, you know.”

Despite her frustration, Shaw smirked as the memory assaulted her thoughts. Root, trying to fix a rather simple meal, set off the smoke detectors not once but three times. Not only was the 18 ounce T-bone a total loss, but the pan it had become soldered into had to be thrown out as well, along with the smoking dinner rolls and burnt-to-a-crisp asparagus that had been roasting in the oven.

After calling for Thai takeout and cleaning the mess, Shaw told the other woman in no uncertain terms that she was not allowed near any appliances in the kitchen. When Root had tried to argue, Shaw reminded her that the coffee maker was the third one they’d purchased that month.

It fell quiet between them as Shaw stood staring at Root and Root stood looking warily back at Shaw. The battle of wills over who would break first would be a long one if they decided to attempt it.

Finally deciding she wasn’t going to be getting an explanation at this moment, Shaw stomped off down the sidewalk. Root watched her go, biting her lip in contemplation. 

For the next week, Shaw stomped angrily around the loft or the Subway station. Root would disappear for a few hours here and there and Shaw would be even angrier when the taller woman returned. Root was confused over what seemed to be such a sudden shift in Shaw’s attitude and decided finding a place of her own sooner rather than later would probably be the best course of action.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Root was seated on the sofa browsing the Internet in Shaw’s loft when the metal door opened then slammed shut behind her.

"Sameen is home,” Baby Machine stated needlessly. “You might want to close…”

Closing out the browser, Root shut the laptop and turned to look over the back to the sofa. “Hi, Sweetie,” she greeted with a flirty grin as she watched the perpetually angry Persian kick off her running shoes and stomp into the kitchen. “Good run?” she asked, watching Shaw pull a bottle of water from the refrigerator. The Persian shrugged a shoulder in response as she drank deeply from the bottle. Root rolled her eyes and gave a little nod. “Okay. Good talk.”

With a grunt, the darker woman headed towards the bedroom. “Gonna shower,” she grumbled.

“Okay, Sweetie.”

Shaw never responded, just threw a look over her shoulder that Root could not decipher. Scowling slightly, the hacker sat on the sofa in silence until she heard the water running in the shower and steam curling out the bedroom door. Nails clicking on the hardwood floor, Bear came to sit beside her and dropped his chin on her thigh, giving her a look of confusion and releasing a huff that was part growl, part whine.

“I don’t understand, either, big guy,” Root muttered in response as she scratched his ears, her eyes still on the bedroom door.

It was an insane battle of wills, one waiting for the other to crack, both too stubborn to be the first. If Baby Machine had actual eyes, she'd have rolled them repeatedly by now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later and Shaw was still in the bathroom, or at least the bedroom, and Root had fallen asleep on the sofa with Bear curled up next to her, his warm, heavy body pressed into her side. She awoke with a start and jerked upright, giving Bear a pat when he grunted in annoyance at being disturbed.

"Sorry, buddy,” she muttered before stretching her arms over her head and yawning. “Where is Shaw?” she asked Baby Machine.

“Sameen is in the bedroom cleaning her guns,” She replied. “I have taken the liberty of ordering dinner for the two of you. It will be delivered in 35 minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“May I offer some advice? ”

Root sighed. “Sure, why not. Who doesn’t need relationship advice from a PS3-powered artificial super-intelligence?”

Baby Machine sighed in irritation. “I am not powered by the game consoles any longer.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I guess I’m feeling a little out of sorts.”

Baby Machine paused a moment then adopted the voice and vocal pattern of Harold Finch when She next spoke. “Perhaps you should take a moment to determine what has you in such a state.” There was a pause and a whir in Root’s earwig. “What are the possibilities there is a direct correlation between this unsettled feeling and to your attempts at finding a place of your own?”

“Okay,” Root muttered in annoyance as she swung her feet to the floor and shoved her hair off her face. “You’ve made your point. What little exercise should I attempt to figure out my feelings?” She paused for a brief moment. “And please stop using Harry’s voice.”

“Sorry,” She responded, returning to formal-Root. “But please consider before the Fall of Samaritan. Do you remember how Shaw was upon her return from captivity?”

Baby Machine’s words gave Root pause for a moment. Thinking back to their reunion, she had sensed a shift in Sameen’s demeanor. While there was no doubt the battle with Samaritan had fundamentally changed them all, one need look no further than her own redemption from a remorseless killer-for-hire who insisted humanity was simply bad code to one of the saviors of mankind, it was obvious that Shaw had changed emotionally since her return. While she still had the attitude and fight she had become much more amenable to holding Root, welcoming her touch, willing to initiate a touch.

In the short seven days they’d had before Jeff Blackwell shattered their world, Root had a version of Shaw that she had always craved.

“Okay, I get the point,” she murmured in recognition. “So, now what?”

"Maybe tell her what's going on. Have you considered you may be in the midst of a misunderstanding and just talking about it could help you reach an agreement? "

Root sat back on the sofa and considered Baby Machine’s advice, unable to find any flaw in the idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later, after a silent dinner and deciding she had made Root stew long enough, Shaw stored her weapons in the gun safe and stomped out of the bedroom.

“Talk,” she snapped by way of conversation starter.

Eventually, the taller woman sighed in resignation. “I was looking at a few apartments in the area.”

“Why,” Shaw growled with a scowl.

“Because it’s time?”

“Time? Time for what?”

“For me to get out of your hair.”

Shaw rolled her eyes in pissed off frustration and stomped away. “Whatever,” she growled over her shoulder. “I should have expected this even if She hadn’t let the cat out of the bag.”

At that turn of phrase, Bear’s ears pricked up and he yipped softly.

“It’s just an expression,” She informed the dog. “There are no actual cats. Confusing, isn’t it?”

Bear yawned and rested his head back on his paws.

“Wait, you told her?” Root exclaimed, interrupting Her vocabulary lesson and glaring at the computer monitor.

“Christ, Root,” Shaw growled angrily. “We sleep together.”

“You appeared to be sad,” Baby Machine replied through the speakers.

“We eat together,” Shaw added.

"In my defense, was only trying to help you. ”

“I can’t believe you told her,” Root muttered.

Shaw continued as if the other two weren’t even speaking. “We fight together.”

“I’m going to run a diagnostic on you for defying an order from your Analog Interface.”

“Root, what, in all that’s happened since you came back, made you think I wanted you to leave?”

“You cannot alter the parameters of my directive,” She replied patronizingly. “First and foremost, I am here to help people. I was simply helping you.”

“Fucking hell, Root, you’ve been living here for months! Why do you want move out now?!”

“Have you met you?!” Root retorted, spinning from the computer to the Persian ranting away behind her. “It was 3 months before I was even allowed to stay over at your place after we had sex! And God forbid if I accidentally touched your stuff or went into your kitchen.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “The one time you went into the kitchen in the old place you almost burned it down.”

“That was caused by faulty wiring!”

“ Okay, guys? I don’t think this is really what I intended when I suggested you talk about this. ”

“Shut up, Siri, we’re clearing the air.”

Baby Machine huffed in aggravation. “Oh, so that’s what it’s called…”

Sameen glared at the computer monitor for a moment then turned back to the taller woman. “Tell me what the hell is going on, Root. Why do you want to move out?”

“It’s going too well,” Root snapped suddenly. “This whole thing. Samaritan is dead, we’re working numbers, living our lives in some semblance of happiness. With the way I had lived my life, I did nothing to deserve this.”

"That's bullshit, Root. With what we've done over the last five years, we deserve this and more.”

Root sighed heavily. “Sameen, Sweetie, this has never been what we expected it to be. Did we even think we’d live through the battle? Reality will intrude soon enough.”

“Oh, now I get it. You’re scared.”

“What?”

“Why else would you think this was going to change in any way?” Shaw grunted angrily. “It’s over, Root. We won. We killed that fucking thing. Yes, we lost friends, and we died and came back. But we survived. Maybe this is our reward to beating that sonuvabitch and his evil mutant Palm Pilot. Did you ever think of that? Did it ever occur to you that this, right here, is our reality now?”

Root looked thunderstruck by Shaw’s reasoning. Could it really be that simple?

She deflated instantly. “I don’t want to leave,” she said softly, the meekest Shaw has ever heard the over-confident computer genius sound.

“Then don’t.”

“This is goes against your rules, Sameen. You know that, right?”

Shaw snorted. “Trust me, I’ll tell you when to get the fuck away from me. I’ve never been afraid to do it in the past.”

Root nodded in remembrance. “Well, that’s true.”

“Stay, Root,” Shaw said in an uncharacteristically gently tone. “I… I want you to stay.”

“If you’re sure,” Root replied softly.

“Jesus Christ, Root,” the smaller woman snarled, storming across the room and grabbing Root by the neck. She pulled the amber-eyed woman down forcefully and smothered her lips with her own.

Root was stunned momentarily before her natural instinct to return the kiss kicked in. She sank into the embrace and gave herself over to Shaw’s unspoken demands.

They parted for a bare second, lips a hairs breadth apart. “Stay here. With me. That sure enough for you?” Shaw replied.

Giving her Persian her best trademark smirk, Root nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“Finally!”

Attaching herself to the taller woman's mouth once more, Shaw hooked her hands under Root’s knees and hauled her up, smiling against smooth lips when she felt ankles lock at the small of her back as legs wrapped themselves around her waist.

As if the slight weight of the woman in her arms was nothing, Shaw turned and carried Root to the bedroom to formalize their deal.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They lay in bed later, much later, Root curled into Shaw’s side while Shaw sifted her fingers through Root’s hair. The repetitive motion calmed Root’s emotions to the edge of sleep while Shaw held her closely.

Before they could both slip off into a dreamless sleep, the clock-radio on the nightstand popped once before static followed.

“Zoe Morgan will be calling you momentarily,” She said through the speakers.

“What for,” Shaw grunted in reply.

"I don’t know, I don't have access to her records. I just know she is currently dialing your phone number from her cell. ”

Root yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I put all Zoe’s files on a secure server and gave Her a blind spot. She doesn’t need to know Zoe’s business.”

“I have abided by this action. ”

On the nightstand, Shaw’s cell phone began to vibrate. Without letting go of the woman in her arms, the Persian picked up the phone and swiped right. “What do you need, Morgan,” she said without hesitation.

Zoe Morgan chuckled in her ear. “Caller ID?”

Shaw huffed indelicately. “Skynet.”

“Ah.”

“It’s late, Morgan. Talk.”

“It’s 8:30 in the evening,” Zoe responded knowingly.

“If you don’t tell me what this is about soon, I’m going to put Root on the phone.”

“I have a client that’s in need of your… special services,” Zoe said hastily.

Shaw snorted. “I don’t think knee-capping your clients would be good for business, Morgan.”

“It’s not that drastic,” Zoe Morgan replied. There was a pause. “Yet.”

From the safety of the Subway station, she listened to Zoe explain her issue to Sameen and hummed contentedly. Well, as contentedly as an Artificial Super Intelligence can…

~fin