Chapter Text
A payphone rings. Sameen Shaw freezes.
She isn't sure if she is ready to hear what is on the other line. She isn't sure if the Machine survived, -hell, she isn't even sure if Reese and Finch survived- but if it did that means at least part of her survived and Shaw isn't sure if that would comfort her or not.
She reaches towards the phone with numb fingers, her other hand tightening its grip around Bear's lease as she did so. She pulls the receiver up to her ear quickly, listening to a voice all to familiar and all too foreign.
"We're alive."
All the air leave's Shaw's lungs as she puts the receiver down and glances up at the camera that rests on a telephone pole above her. So the Machine made it after all. She exhales. We, it said. A smile graces her lips as she begins to walk away, and when she glances back down she catches sight of a familiar smirk.
Shaw feels a sudden rush of emotion -anger, doubt, joy- and, fuck, how do people deal with this all the time? She manages to croak one word out before her throat closes up.
"Root?"
Root stands across the street, appearing out of nowhere, looking tired and weary but alive. She is wearing black jeans and an old tank top and a smirk that makes Shaw's blood boil and heart sore. Her eyes are wide with surprise, but her mouth is knowing, and Shaw isn't sure which one infuriates her more. She wants to glance back at the payphone but she doesn't dare take her eyes off Root, who is alive and standing fifteen feet from her. The Machine owed her a bit more of a warning than that, didn't it? Shaw's fingers move to the back of her ear, unconsciously searching for a chip that is not there. The touch of her fingers against her blemish-free skin tells her what her mind won't believe; this is real.
Shaw's feet begin to move of their own accord, Bear's leash falling from her hand. She doesn't have to go far, because Root has already crossed the street and is making her way towards her. Root collides with her with the force of a hurricane, strong and wild and desperate. Root cradles Shaw's head as Shaw grips at Root's sides, her movements desperate and almost harsh as she tries to find something to grasp onto.
She lets Root hold her for nearly a minute, and she tells herself that it is entirely for Root's benefit. Tells herself that nothing has changed and that she still does not find comfort in the embrace, not at all. When she pulls away, she regards Root for a long moment. The taller girl has tears shining in her eyes, expression filled with emotions that Shaw will never fully experience.
Shaw reaches up to touch Root's face, briefly, before her hands roam down her sides and then back up her arms. Her fingers flutter through Root's hair, along her jaw, and against the bunching of fabric around her waist. She watches as Root inhales when Shaw's hands find a resting place at her hips, waiting. Once satisfied that she is real, Shaw shoves her away angrily, but keeps one hand buried in the hem of Root's tank top. She needs the contact to breathe. She needs to be sure that her stupid heart isn't playing tricks on her still-vulnerable mind.
Root's eyes widen. "Sameen..."
"What the fuck, Root," Shaw roars, eyes ablaze. Bear whines from beside her, sniffing excitedly around Root. Shaw shushes him with a wave of her hand. She hates that Root can make her like this. She hates that if she ever feels anything, as little as it always is, she feels it for Root. She hates that she let it happen and then lost it and that she is so ready to let it happen again.
"I can explain," Root begins.
"You better," Shaw growls. "What the actual fuck, Root. I can't believe you. How dare you? How dare you let me think you were dead-"
"Sameen, please."
Shaw cut her off with an angry hiss, not yet done with her rant, voice becoming dangerously low. "You let me walk around for weeks thinking you were dead, I-" Shaw's voice cuts off with a muffled choking sound, suddenly out of words. She silently curses herself for the weakness, nails digging into Root's side.
Root is gazing down at her with misty eyes and before Shaw can begin yelling again, Root's warm lips are pressed against her and everything stops for a second. Shaw allows a warmth to wash over her for a quick second before pushing Root away.
"It was the only way," Root says calmly, using Shaw's momentary shock as an opportunity to explain. "She needed to push Harry forwards," she explains quickly. "And I was shot, I mean, that part was real. It just didn't kill me."
Shaw's hand shifts from the hem of Root's shirt to move along her abdomen. Root hisses as Shaw's fingers graze over a fresh wound on her right side. Shaw growls. "It's still not fucking okay, Root. I thought you were dead," she spits. "If you ever do that again I swear to-"
"I love you," Root says, effectively cutting her off again. She says it again, voice softer. "I love you."
Shaw's nostril's flare. "Fuck you, Root," she says, then grabs Root's hips and pulls her towards her.
This kiss is not unlike the one at the stock market; hard and desperate, all full of teeth and tongue and the tears from Root's eyes. Root's hands find Shaw's face and pulls her closer, closer, closer, until the two women are in danger of drowning in one another.
Shaw lets this kiss go on for longer. She lets Root's tongue slip into her mouth and take her breath away. She allows herself to find comfort in the familiar sensation of Root nibbling gently on her upper lip. She relishes in the fact that they both made it through this thing -broken, but alive- and that after all of this they still fit together like they do.
Root grins at her when they part, eyes bright. "You're wearing my jacket," she says, smugness creeping into her voice.
"Shut up," Shaw snaps with the small amount of air that is left in her lungs after kissing Root. She doesn't bother denying it, nor does she take off the slightly-too-big jacket. She has worn it all week, the leather and the scent of Root still lingering a comfort to her as she tried to rebuild what was left of her world. She's never going to tell Root that, but then again maybe Root already knows, because she doesn't say anything more, just smiles at Shaw like she's the sun.
Shaw sighs, then bends down and picks up Bear's leash, the fist she has curled in Root's shirt shifting to grab the other girl's hand, pulling her back into the traffic of the sidewalk.
"Sameen?" Root wonders, voice filled with too many emotions for Shaw to discern. "Shaw, where are we going?"
"I'm hungry," Shaw grumbles after a moment, weaving through the hoards of other people on the street. "You're going to buy my lunch, then you are going to explain to me why you thought faking your death without telling me was a good idea, and then you are going to apologize by buying me more food until I decide to maybe consider forgiving you."
Shaw can practically feel Root's grin. "Oh, I'm sure I can find a way to make it up to you." Root's voice is dripping with innuendo.
"Root," Shaw warns.
"Sorry, Sweetie," Root replies, though she doesn't sound sorry at all, not like she ever does. "Lunch first, apologies for dessert."