cactusy | IC contact for lastvoyages

Mm. Okay.

[She noses Root's cheek.]

You gonna throw a party?

A private party, for you and me.

[ She accentuates 'party' by pressing her nails a little into Shaw's skin. ]

Beyond that, no. I know I'm going right back into the fray, so I'd like a little relaxation time before that.

I want to take you on vacation.

[She moves into another kiss, a quick one this time.]

A week in a house in the middle of nowhere.

I'd love that.

[ Honestly, she'll any time they can have together before going back to finish their war back home-- especially if they get to be alone together. They've spent too much time apart. ]

And woe unto anyone who tries to ruin it for us.

"In the middle of nowhere" means no one to try to ruin it for us.

[In theory, anyway.]

I'm thinking deserted island, lonely mountaintop, desolate desert; that kinda thing.

[ Root loves the sound of that. ]

Surprise me.

In the meantime, I'm going to make stew.

[Shaw gives her shoulder a brief squeeze, then pulls back so she can do just that.]

You gonna live in here for the week, or are you going to ask for a fancy new warden cabin?

Oh, there's no reason to make the Admiral waste time and strength on a fancy cabin for someone who's leaving in a week.

[ Back to the kitchen it is! ]

Besides, I want to be here with you. I know what I'm going back to. I want this time here to be safe before heading right back to war.

You nervous?

[Her tone is light enough, but she's carefully studying Root's face.]

Yes.

[ Root doesn't bother hiding anything. There's less certainty in her gaze, and the sharp edge to her mask is all but gone. ]

The way things were escalating before I came here tells me we're nearing the final battle. I may be safe now, but there's still you and Harold and Lionel and John. There's still the Machine. It won't be easy, even with all this extra help. So, yes, I'm nervous... but also hopeful. I haven't felt that in a long time.

[It's true: her deal had been for an overall victory, not for their survival. They're going to win, but there's no guarantee that they won't all die in the process.]

How long do you think the graduation reprieve lasts? Could you go home and, I dunno, get hit by a different sniper's bullet the next day?

Mm... I suppose I could, but that sure would've made all of this a waste of the Admiral's power, or... energy, or fuel.

[ How does the Admiral even work, honestly. ]

I'll probably end up in the hospital for a while if all he can do is shift the odds juuust enough that I survive. Harold should be able to make it to safety. And as long as I'm in a hospital, the Machine can keep me safe.

And when the dust settles, we'll just...

[Shaw sighs.]

Take stock, I guess. See what we're left with.

[See who they're left with.]

Right.

[ She's thinking 'who' as well, so she says, almost in a whisper-- ]

And if anyone doesn't survive, I'll come back here for a deal.

[ Can she just choose to? Is that how it works? She hope that's how it works. ]

[Yeah, about that, Root--]

Pretty sure the Admiral has to offer first; we can't just use this place as our get-out-of-trouble-free card for the rest of our lives.

That figures. [ Sad, but accepting.

And then, because her upbeat sarcasm is so deeply ingrained a defense mechanism-- ] And people say gods are omnipotent.

Hey, no one's saying he couldn't make the offer anytime he wanted. I just don't think we can count on it.

And I agree. I just also wish we could count on it.

[ Look, Root really doesn't think she can handle losing Shaw (again) or Harold (at all). Life without either of them would be hollow and sad. ]

Not so different from life before the Barge, though, is it?

[She curls a lock of Root's hair around her finger, giving it a light tug.]

You got a chance to come back to life. We already got something that pretty much no one else does.

Yeah.

[ That's so cute, Shaw. Root leans her head against Shaw's, anchoring herself in the fact that they're both alive when they get back home. ]

I really am happy about that. I get this thrill in my chest, like butterflies, every time I stop and think about it. We get to keep living. We get to beat Samaritan.

[Shaw lets go of the curl of Root's hair, tracing her fingers down Root's face and along her collarbone, finally coming to rest over her heart, where they lightly press in.]

What does it feel like? The butterflies.

[ The rest of the world, and anything she's been working on, are forgotten now, Shaw's tick and voice drawing all of Root's attention. ]

It's kind of like a tickling sensation, or little muscle spasms. Physiologically, my body can't tell if I'm in danger, so the fight-or-flight response gets activated. Most of my blood is being directed away from my digestive system, so my stomach isn't happy. It's letting me know that. But since the reason it's happening is good, it's not uncomfortable. It feels good to be a little nervous, because I'm consciously expecting to feel more good things. Like this.

[ She turns now and kisses Shaw on the temple. ]

That actually sounds pretty nice.

[Shaw can actually imagine it pretty well; it's not too far off from things she's felt before (danger, nerviness, attraction). The overly analytical explanation helps a hell of a lot, and she leans into Root's kiss, pressing three of her own against Root's cheek in quick succession.]

Thank you.

[ It is nice. Almost as nice as those sweet kisses. Almost as nice as getting to be a huge nerd as she explains things. Root can get behind explaining things to Shaw like that, relating to her experience so they understand each other better. ]

Anything for you, sweetie.

[ Which reminds her... she was going to cook right now, wasn't she? ]

Even if it means prying myself away from you to cook for you.

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