[ when she finally messages him, his relief is palpable — sure, he already talked to root and all... but it's good to hear from shaw, too. despite not having known her nearly as long as he's known root, nor as well, he cares about her a great deal. ]
hey, good to hear from you
glad that you're okay. i've died a couple of times in this place and coming back's always
none of it's ever been real, so technically, I've never actually died. in the simulations I'm used to, dying booted me out. I'm not sure if that was a deliberate programming choice, or a function of how the simulation worked. here, it was seamless. I woke up and I was still here, with full continuity and everything.
if you're looking for information on the afterlife, sorry. I'm as in the dark as you.
just like all of this is a simulation and not technically real? nah, i don't buy that. it all still happened, you remember it all — that's real enough to me.
and i didn't mean it like that. i've got plenty of information about the afterlife, actually
just... well. can't imagine it's easy for you, if those simulations are what you're used to, to be stuck here, can it?
we thought of that, yeah. and i've got some ideas, but... even if this is all the time we have, well. it'll have been worth it. I'm just gonna love him as well as i can for however long we've got
i mean, how's it any different, in the end, from being with someone in your own world? you still might have days, or weeks, or years together. knowing that we might be on borrowed time here doesn't make it any less real
if you're afraid of getting hurt... well, you're never gonna do anything that matters
being with him's worth more to me than anything else. don't care if it means getting hurt, now do i? this is what we've got, here and now, and i'm gonna make the most of it. that's all
[But truthfully, she doesn't have much to carry: she's used to traveling light, and even though she hadn't packed anything from the apartment to take with her for the month, she hasn't accumulated much stuff during her time away. Bear's things go in a tote bag that gets slung over one shoulder, the clothes and toiletries she'd bought for herself go in a duffle that gets slung over the other, and in her hands she carries a small paper gift bag. Everything else from the little free house - all the basic furniture and home goods that had been there when she'd moved in - gets left behind.
Shortly after sending that last message, she arrives at the apartment, letting Bear off his leash before they both come through the door.]
[ They come through the door into... a completely remade apartment. Previously there'd been piles of random crap everywhere that Charles and Root had accumulated, since they'd both used this space primarily for storing things and Root for sleeping. With Shaw here and Root needing something to do for the past two weeks, it felt like she should for once in her life make her living space a little more of a home.
That means she and Charles have spent the time Shaw was gone redecorating. The random storage piles are now tidied and put away into the second bedroom, and the living area is redone in a lush explosion of purple. There's a shag carpet, a beaded lamp... and a very comfortable-looking couch beside a new bed for Bear.
Root has a wrapped gift on the dining table, too, a shallow rectangular box. She's leaning casually back against the edge of the table, dressed in black jeans and tank top. ]
[Shaw asks dryly, taking in the new decor as she unshoulders both of the bigger bags. Bear, of course, is less discerning; he immediately runs over to check out the new furniture (couch first, then dog bed). Then she spots the gift on the table, glances down at the bag still in her hands, and shoots Root a quick, awkward look.]
I, uh-- I don't know if my thing counts as a real gift.
[ It really is. It's so adorable that it makes Shaw awkward, though, like Root really cares about whether or not she gets a gift back. Every time Shaw comes back to her she feels enough of a thrill. She knows what it means.
She straightens up from her casual slump and steps forward toward Shaw, hands raising and finding her collarbones, flattening, sliding along to the edge until her palms cup her shoulders. ]
[Careful not to jostle the little bag she's carrying too much, Shaw wraps an arm around Root's waist, steers her towards the new couch, and pulls her down onto it with her, leaning into her side. After a moment, she lets out a soft, contented sigh, which is basically Shaw's version of a dramatic declaration of love.]
I'm glad you're still here.
[She can't fully say she's glad that she's still here, even though she can't fully say she wishes she wasn't, either. But she is here, and being glad that Root is here with her is about as uncomplicated as it gets.]
[ Her heart warms and expands and feels like it boils over with the intensity of feeling Root gets from that admission. She wouldn't expect Shaw to say that she's glad she's still here as well, still means what she'd said the first day they'd seen each other, that she wouldn't ask Shaw to say behind in some digital afterlife for her--
But she takes what she can get while she can get it, without an ounce of regret. She surges forward and presses Shaw against the plush magenta couch, pushing her into an enthusiastic kiss, one leg straddling over Shaw between hers and teasingly applying pressure.
The world is complicated but how they feel for one another doesn't have to be. Root agrees completely.
She pulls back and meets her eyes with dark intensity. ] I won't give you up. Wherever you go, whatever happens, I'll come after you if I can.
You gonna be mine? [ Root arches up, pressing into her, challenging. ]
[Shaw reaches around her to gently set the little bag on the floor, then immediately reaches back for Root: sliding her hands from her hips and up her sides, underneath her shirt.]
[Without pulling her gaze away from Root's face, Shaw slips one hand out from underneath Root's shirt, snaps her fingers, and points to the bedroom. Bear immediately gets to his feet and trots through the open door.
Sorry, Bear. There are some things that innocent puppies shouldn't see.]
I won't be able to return the favor, if you do it right. Rip me apart, then ask for a raincheck.
Oh, [ she breathes, ] believe me, I'm not planning on this being the same day.
[ Shaw sending Bear away is invitation enough. It turns out that the gift Root has for the both of them is a traditional cupping set. She hadn't forgotten Shaw's comment months ago about that, had tracked one down and saved it for this moment. Modern versions use suction devices instead of fire using up the oxygen to create the vacuum, but Root knows Shaw and she hadn't settled for less.
She takes her apart as meticulously as she'd promised on top of the dining table, alternating wicked edging toward orgasm and red-hot capillary-breaking glass jars set on her skin. Mostly her back, but not entirely. Traditional cupping means Root lights an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on a stick on fire and holds it beneath the open jar before swiftly pulling it away and setting the hot rim of glass on her. It pulls red bruises to the surface immediately, and her inner thighs are especially tender, Root working her over with gradually increasing intensity and a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction.
She doesn't care about her own physical relief; it's a benefit sometimes, being a woman and a cerebral one, that she doesn't mind delaying or denying her physical release. The mental release is so much rarer and so much more precious to her. She can go as long as Shaw needs to fall apart and she won't be distracted.
Once she thinks Shaw has had enough she crawls up onto the table, which creaks beneath their combined weight, and starts licking luxuriously over the marks she's left behind. She feels like a cat who's been given cream and wants to rub herself all over her in territorial claim. ]
[If asked if she's had enough, Shaw would not be able to give an answer, but only because she's largely incapable of speech at the moment. She's in sensory overwhelm: her eyes closed, her ears wringing, her muscles sore in the same way they are after a good, long, satisfying run. Root runs her tongue over a mark on her shoulder, and she twitches, involuntarily flexing into it.
So much of how Shaw interacts with people feels deliberate, forced, and calculated, rather than instinctual. She's fine with that. She's proud of herself, even, for the way she's successfully socialized herself into being a mostly-functional human being despite her very obvious limitations. But whether she's in a firefight or having sex, it's so nice to be able to strip all of that away and get down to the brass tacks of her most basic self. So right now, she doesn't mentally sort through a litany of potential affection options, carefully selecting the one that she thinks Root will like the most or that will best convey a particular message that she's trying to send. She just lets her body do whatever the hell it wants, which in this case is pressing her palm hard against the side of Root's neck: not like she's trying to push her away, but like she's trying to sink her hand into her skin, seeking her warmth.]
[ That's encouragement and invitation, too. Root likes to think she knows how to read her darling well enough that she doesn't need to ask -- and wouldn't, lest she force Shaw to break out of the relaxation and surrender into mustering up some grandstanding. Like she'd told Charles, other people should probably have a talk about limits, but she truly feels they don't need to. That's a large part of why she's so intensely attracted to Shaw.
Their limits are mutually a few steps past where anyone else wants to go.
She pulls up and whispers, soft and caring, ] Poor little Sameen. Everyone is either scared of you or wants to take care of you, don't they?
But what you want is for someone to pry you open with a crowbar. [ Root curls her nails into one of the welts. Shaw has probably had enough by now, but-- one step farther feels so seductive... Root wants to push and push. ]
[This time, Shaw's instinct is twofold, and contradictory: first she flexes away from the pain, and then just a millisecond later, she flexes into it, her muscles tensing and twitching in a way that begs her to stretch them. She throws an arm out into the air and dangles it over the side of the table, fingertips straining outwards, reaching for nothing in particular.]
Root.
[Her breathing is ragged and juddering. This means keep going.]
[ She absolutely understands that it means keep going. She starts scratching at the welt, merciless strokes of her nails against the swollen skin at her inner thighs. ]
You're too strong for them. Everyone else gets tired out before you've had enough, don't they, [ she coos, pressing in harder. Blood begins to well up, beading along the skin with the broken capillaries seeping through to the surface. ]
But I can go as long and as far as you want, sweetheart.
[In other situations, a comment like this might ignite Shaw's competitive side - earning Root a teasing You'll tap out before I'm even half done, or even an attempted tackle. God knows Root has seen both from her often enough.
But she's not wrong: Shaw does want to be pried open, and there's a big part of her that likes that Root can really, honestly wear her out, leaving her lying still and unable to push back. And as much as she also enjoys the competition and the push and pull, there's no need for genuine pretense or denial here: she is spent.]
How many marks?
[She asks - her head thrown back, her eyes closed.]
[ As promised, Root takes her time. She isn't trying to get one over on Shaw, isn't trying to prove any kind of superiority. There's a caretaking element to how tenderly she nibbles on and scratches the welts, narrating as she goes, taking inventory as asked.
She's never felt like she needed to say I love you because she feels certain this is closer to Sameen's native language, and will mean more this way.
Eventually she grabs a fuzzy pink couch blanket and crawls back onto the table with her, draping it over them. Root knows how fast someone can get cold lying naked on a table once the fun's over. She curls up around her and whispers, ] How'd I do? You doing okay?
[ Maybe they don't need to have the before conversation, but it would be irresponsible not to at least check in after. ]
[Her voice is slurred and sleepy, as if she's been lulled into a trance by Root's attentions. But she's clearly not completely out of it, because after a moment or two of them lying there together, she suddenly sits up, loosely clutching the blanket.]
[Shaw grumbles, and reaches for the shirt that's nearest at hand, pulling it on without bothering with a bra. (The fact that it's Root's shirt doesn't seem to be a problem for her, either.)
Leaving the blanket with Root, she hops off the table and makes her way back over to the couch, retrieving the little gift bag she'd brought with her. Inside is a small object wrapped in tissue paper that, once unwrapped, turns out to be a fist-sized pewter carving of an elephant, in mid-step with its trunk held aloft. Without further ado, she places it on the mantle. There. A single decor item has been contributed by Sameen Shaw.]
[ In response, Root scoots to the sit at the edge of the table and puts on Shaw's discarded tank top. Swapping clothes is cute and wholesome and she also thinks it's the kind of thing that Shaw is likely to find attractive.
When Shaw reveals the elephant knick-knack and triumphantly places it on the mantle, Root bursts into short giggles that she muffles into the fuzzy pink blanket. ]
I'm sorry to tell you, but you're the man in this relationship.
[ Oh no. Oh no. It's a personal memory about her parents. That makes her abandon the teasing-- mostly.
Root springs to her feet, leaving the blanket behind and wearing only a tanktop, utterly uncaring of it leaving her lower half bare. She strides across the room to Shaw with a smile that's Root's particular brand of mixed earnestness and mischievousness. ]
As long as this elephant is here, you can definitely say it's your apartment.
[The sudden change in demeanor only makes her more suspicious, and her eyes narrow further. In truth, it had been a lot less personal than that: remembering her parents' elephant hadn't been about sentimentality as much as it had been about confirmation that it was a solid choice of decor. Her parents had had good taste, and her mother in particular had liked art. If elephant figurines were good enough for them, then surely they were good enough for Root, who thought way lamer stuff was cool.]
Don't make it weird. Anyway, I thought you being here was what made it my apartment.
[ Just because Shaw isn't sentimental about it doesn't mean it's not personal. Root knows the facts and outline of her life but she doesn't know the color that fills in those lines. Even this little tidbit feels sweet. Root likes lame stuff with a playful irony; and she likes anything that demonstrates Shaw's sincere commitment. Even a silly elephant figurine. ]
After what we just did on that table, I hope this is our apartment, [ she says teasingly, reaching out to draw her in. The sight of her covered in marks and wearing Root's shirt is very appealing. ] We should clean you up.
[Shaw grumbles something inaudible under her breath, fussily adjusting the figurine in its spot. The very pretty and not at all lame figurine, thank you very much. It's aesthetically pleasing; she knows she picked well!!]
Hot water would be painful on these welts.
[She does not necessarily mean that as a bad thing.]
Hey, if you want your shower to hurt, don't let me stop you.
[ Root walks away with an intentional sashay to her hips, letting the hem of Shaw's shirt frame the top of her bare ass. She's deliberately seduced people plenty of times and she knows how to put on a show. ]
I thought of you every day, [ she says over her shoulder, and then disappears into the bathroom. ]
[Shaw makes a small sound in the back of her throat - half-amused, half-disbelieving - and follows right behind Root, giving Bear a hand motion to stay put.]
[ Root has an impossible amount of energy, a capacity to keep going almost tirelessly as long as there's something to do. Occasionally she crashes and crashes hard, but her default is go, and maybe that's why she's able to actually wear Shaw out. Even now she could keep going if it was called for, or pivot to violence on a split second's notice.
She realizes Shaw does not even want more sex at the moment, but she's not so lust-addled that she can't appreciate the physical intimacy without the promise of an orgasm. She doesn't pull away, just looks over her shoulder at Shaw with an appreciative look, grateful to have her here. ]
Don't be silly. They're not ready to double date with us. [ Root smirks. ] Charles said they hold hands and cuddle. It's so wholesome.
[ She loves them really, it's very adorable, but it's about a million light-years from what she and Shaw are like together. ]
[It's a delivery of a sandwich order, courtesy of Root. Junpei doesn't linger to chat about it, he's still on the clock, but he's sure to convey this is a Very Special Order from Root.
Enjoy (belated) your pepperoncini monstrosity, Shaw.]
[ Root flounces into their shared living area wearing a gauzy, layered dress covered in a cute cherry print. She's fully made up, down to a flashy ring and matching cherry-red lipstick. She's also carrying a huge ridiculously feminine tote bag, currently mostly empty except for (1) taser and a dark web communicator. ]
Hey, honey. You didn't forget what day it is, did you?
[ Like Root actually cares about holidays, but she's absolutely going to take any chance to treat Shaw like she's a conventional disappointing heterosexual husband. ]
[Shaw, by contrast is wearing a tank top, jeans, and Bear (he's sprawled across her belly on the couch, and she's encouraging this by scratching his ears. When Root waltzes in, he gives her a big doggy grin. Shaw furrows her brow.]
[Shaw mmmmms and sits up, gently dislodging Bear.]
Okay. But only if I don't have to dress like that.
[The little smile is meant to take roughly half of any possible sting out of it. The other half can stay, as far as she's concerned; she's positive that Root played up the ridiculousness of her outfit entirely on purpose, which means that she brought this on herself.]
Sit tight; I'm gonna get dressed.
[This is said on her way to the bedroom; also on the way there, she leans in to try to get a peek into Root's bag.]
[That taser hints at several options for good things to come, and Shaw's grin stays in place as she disappears into the bedroom. She keeps the jeans, but ditches the tank top in favor of a shirt and blazer, and - after a moment's consideration - swaps out her boxer shorts and sports bra for some actual lingerie.
A few minutes later, she reappears, giving Root another look up and down.]
That ring of yours is on the wrong finger. How are you gonna let the whole world know I've planted my flag if you don't wear it right?
[ She spends the time Shaw takes getting changed to prep Bear for the outing, switching out his collar for a warm practical doggie jacket and packing his portable water bowl and treats.
When Shaw returns she's surprised into a brief, bright peal of laughter. ] Is that what we're calling it? [ She shoulders her bag again and comes over to needlessly straighten the lapel on Shaw's blazer, charmed by the thought that went into her outfit. Her willingness to go along with Root's whims essentially without explanation makes her feel warm and treasured. ]
It's Valentine's Day, by the way. It's silly, but I thought we could do something together since there's no missions keeping us busy.
[ Which is sad in its own right, but Root might as well take advantage of it for the positives it does offer. ]
[Shaw hangs back: not stopping, but walking noticeably slower, staying a couple feet behind Root. That little smile sticks around on her face, hovering somewhere between amused and fond.]
Good thing you got the ring covered; I'm off the hook.
Please, like I'd agree to get married for a piece of costume jewelry. The last guy I made give me a real emerald.
[ Root puts on a coat and then shuffles them out the door, all three of them, as she returns the banter. She clearly has a plan because she doesn't mind leading them and sets out unerringly from their apartment. ]
Okay, there is no way you've actually been married before.
[It's said as a challenge. If she's wrong (and despite her words, she knows that she very well might be; Root has had a weird-ass life and has run some even weirder cons), then she wants to hear this story.]
[Shaw scoffs and shakes her head, picking up the pace a little so that they're walking side by side. Bear trots along happily, shoving his way between them so that he can nose at both their hands at the same time.]
Come on, full story. Was he a dick? What did you need out of him? Did you make him cry?
[ Root is not intrinsically a dog or other pet person, but Bear really is so cute. She happily lets him squeeze his way in between them as they walk. ]
Which one? [ she asks dryly. ] It wasn't one time. They were just jobs, Shaw.
[ Sometimes fun, but ultimately jobs. Root doesn't have any emotional attachment to those guys. She's typically more concerned with being onto the next one. ]
[Shaw shimmies around Bear so that she can bump her hip against Root's; Bear takes being displaced in stride, and moves to trot along ahead of them, as if he too knows exactly where they're going.]
I'm not jealous, I'm curious. I didn't do the honey-trapping thing much; I didn't have the patience for it.
[ Root is thorough, okay? It was a viable option. And she does like Grace, really hadn't wanted to hurt her, and is fervently glad now she never did. Harold and Grace both didn't deserve that under any circumstances. She sees that now. She doesn't agree with all the lines the Machine draws, but this one, she gets. At least in retrospect. ]
Complicated was a kind way to put it, [ she says wryly. ] I kidnapped him. But that's not why I was bringing it up.
[The admission of kidnapping earns Root a soft snort and another hip bump, this one a little gentler than the first. Of course she'd kidnapped Finch - and of course, Shaw suspects, Finch had taken it a lot less in stride than she herself had. No wonder he'd seemed so rattled by the mere mention of her; by the reminder that he had her face on his bulletin board.]
Okay.
[She means it as an opening: then why were you bringing it up, Root?]
[ Oh good, Shaw isn't getting diverted by tales of her kidnapping one of her other favorite people as a means of introduction. That's why they're perfect together. Root passes her a sidelong smile, bright and energized, hip bumping her back. ]
Okay, so, I had to establish a pretty deep cover as a clinical psychologist for months ahead of time. Mostly for rich self-important men. It was very similar to convincing some schmuck that I was in love with him.
[Root's smile feels like the soothing, steady press of a palm against her chest. It's not the overwhelming wave of feeling that she's heard other people describe when they talk about what love feels like, but it's warm and comforting all the same. She doesn't smile back, but she lets her gaze linger on Root's, deadpanning:]
And how did you feel about that?
[Sorry, Root; you left the dumb joke window wide open.]
[It's not an alias she's ever personally encountered, but that doesn't make it hard to guess: unlike Root, the rest of them pretty much always used the same first names.]
No way. On a job, or looking for help with his dark and tortured soul?
On the job, of course. I took a hit out on myself, [ Root explains nonchalantly as they come up on the Sandwich Hut, ] so my number came up. Well, Caroline Turing's did.
Easiest way to get close to me to protect me was to be a client. Things were so simple back then, [ she muses. ]
[Only Root would take her on a date to a sandwich shop, Shaw thinks, a bloom of fondness surfacing in her chest. It's that thought that helps her keep this light: talking about John too much always feels like a bit of a high-wire act. The probably-dead aren't off-limits for being lovingly roasted, but it's two skips and a jump from that to nostalgia, and she doesn't think that's the vibe that Root is going for here.
-- Well. She doesn't think it until Root says that last bit, anyway. She tugs on a lock of Root's hair, prodding:]
So how long did it take him to figure you out, and how far did he go with the chivalry before he did?
[ That's not the whole date, Shaw, that would be lame. They're just here to pick up supplies. As far as picking sandwiches goes, though, Root might want to make a thing out of Valentine's Day for the fun of it, but she does want Shaw to actually enjoy herself. There's two of her favorites for her, a simple roast beef and cheese sandwich for Bear, and a grilled chicken panini for Root. ]
So little faith in my acting skills. Mr. Rooney kindly fought off a full-scale assault by HR while he had his mysterious partner bring me to safety.
Wait here a second. [ She ducks in to grab the bag of sandwiches she'd ordered ahead and comes right back out carrying it. ] This is just a pit stop.
Anyway, I did give him real therapy before all that went down. Veterans so commonly have hypervigilance. [ Root is absolutely on the train of lovingly roasting people who are probably dead. She'd expect nothing else for her memory, either; remembering someone at all is sweet. ]
[Shaw, who is perfectly capable of being polite(ish) when she wants to be, does not immediately grab for the sandwich bag. She and Bear do both give it practically identical looks of interest, though; one can practically see Shaw's ears perk up the way Bear's do.]
Root, no offense, but are you actually qualified to give people real therapy?
[ Root pointedly holds the sandwich bag away from them and sets off again. ]
I'm probably more qualified than most of the people charging for it, [ she huffs. You can take the girl out of the cynical nihilist forum boards but you can't take the cynicism out of the girl. She'd legitimately studied for her clinical psychologist cover, at least, whether or not she has a real license. ]
I really didn't get what Harold saw in him at the time. Apart from a nice loyal pet.
[Shaw's willingness to roast the probably-dead apparently has its limits, because she refrains from shooting back an I don't get it, either. She does get it, of course: John is (was?) loyal, determined, compassionate, and brave. A good soldier like her, even when it ripped him apart.
She hmms, glancing away from Root and down at her feet.]
[ Root is really roasting herself at this point, not John. ]
Well. He raised hell with me to find you, no questions asked, after you were taken. [ She keeps looking straight ahead steadily as she walks. ] So I came around.
[She cuts herself off, wondering if she should even be bringing this up. Root is trying to show her a nice time; surely she doesn't want her to ruin it.]
[ She doesn't really want to get into everything she'd done while Shaw was gone, not any more than she already has -- but Root is definitely curious about what happened in the simulations, and she's not so easily dissuaded. She's accepted what happened to Shaw; here and now, safe and enjoying themselves, she's not going to let anything be ruined.
Her step lightens and she looks over at Shaw sidelong with interest. ]
See anything enough times and you'll believe it, [ Root says prosaically, not blaming her. That's how human psychology works, and thousands of times? In full virtual reality? No contest.
She doesn't offer any sympathy; she just says, ] Anything else you want to fact check? Maybe I'm not totally real but at least I can provide a counter-narrative to Samaritan.
[It's not a conversation she's completely opposed to having, but she hates the idea of getting into those weeds now, and tainting whatever Root has planned for them. She drops her hand to her side, playing her fingers against Root's palm.]
Tell me more about John's fake therapy. What happened after that?
[ Root accepts that without second guessing it, smoothly taking Shaw's hand and lacing their fingers together fully. They keep walking, Bear padding along beside them, this time heading toward the outskirts of town. She purposefully goes for the breezy dramatic version of the rest of the story. ]
There was an ex NSA staffer who figured out Harry built the Machine, so I killed her. Then I lured the staffer's supervisor to the love cabin he kept for his mistress and tried to torture him for the Machine's location, but Harold had some issues with my methods. He got him free and I had to kill him, too.
[Shaw exhales at Root's Okay, giving her fingers a grateful squeeze. It's not like she'd been expecting an argument, or wheedling, or any kind of pressure - but good god, it's nice when things are just that easy.]
The five shades of green he turned when I told him I'd met you are starting to make a lot more sense now. I figured you'd just out-hacked him or something.
[ Not everything needs to be dealt with; not everything can be solved, or fixed, or made better. Root trusts Shaw to know herself well enough to take her up on the invitation when and where and how it would help. If that's not right now, that's not right now.
Cheerfully: ] Oh, I did that, too. His systems were so interesting I had to dig further-- that's how I found her.
[ Root brings them to a stop in front of a convenience store. ]
[Shaw drawls, with offense that's both exaggerated and also entirely feigned. She gives Bear's ears a rub, tells him to stay ("Blijf"), and then disappears into the store. Ten minutes later, she comes back out with a bag: large, paper, and with a folded-down opening that she has no plans to let Root peek into just yet.]
So how many errands are we running on the way to this mystery spot?
That's the last one. I thought romancing you required sandwiches and beer. Should I do it differently next time?
[ This is absolutely Root making fun of her. She has an exaggerated imploring expression, almost a pout, as she sets off again, looking at Shaw over her shoulder. ]
Wine and candles for my girl? Romcom at the theater?
Nah, it doesn't need to be a total surprise. Just looking to have some fun -- and be smug.
[ They're heading steadily toward the edge of town and then outside of it toward the woods. There's a small wooden hut set a ways back into the forest that Root's angling them to... ]
[ Root lets her go with a roll of her eyes, letting her have this one and noting for later that she should apparently be blindfolding Shaw sometime.
The cabin is indeed their final destination, and as Shaw comes up on it she'll realize it's a traditional free-standing Finnish sauna. The coal stove is already fired up and warm, a nice contrast to the thin layer of snow scattered around the area. ]
[Shaw isn't overly familiar with saunas, rare as they are in all of the places she's ever lived - but she's been to Scandinavia a time or two for jobs, and when she's close enough to get an inkling, she stops and half-turns to look back over her shoulder, arching an amused brow at Root.]
That's up to you. The extent of my planning was to leave the beer in the snow, leave Bear on watch, and cuddle up with my hot partner in a hot place.
[ In their underwear, of course, hence Root's earlier instructions. And you're definitely not supposed to eat in saunas, but if they clean up after themselves, who really cares? ]
Food first; these sandwiches deserve to be eaten by people who aren't sweaty.
[But she can eat while standing, so after setting the bag from the liquor store down on the ground outside the cabin, she proceeds to do just that - still watching Root with a little grin on her face.]
How'd you find this? You don't go walking around in the woods much, do you?
[ it's been over a week, now — he had held out hope that maybe, just maybe, they weren't both really gone. that maybe they'd be back, and he could smile and say that he never really believed they'd actually be taken away...
but no. he may not like to face the truth, but there it is: root's gone, junpei's gone, and when he finally comes to terms with that, he realises there's someone else going through the exact same thing he is, now.
and maybe, maybe she'd like some company to feel a little less alone. ]
[ it doesn't take long, though, for a knock to sound from the door; he could simply step through, but that seems... invasive. like the door is a physical barrier between shaw and the rest of the world, and he doesn't want to break it down. he knows all too well how it feels, to remove yourself from those around you, even for a while, to grieve alone. ]
[She doesn't keep him waiting for too long, but she doesn't answer right away, either. First he'll hear the sound of doggy paws on the floor, then a scratch at the door and a quiet whine. Then nothing for about a minute more, until Shaw's footsteps approach and she pulls open the door.
Bear the Belgian Malinois sniffs at Charles' shoes. Shaw gives him an utterly blank look as she steps back to let him in.]
[ in the end, she opens the door. he counts that as a win. and for once, there's barely a smile on his face as he nods to her in greeting — his mouth tilts up slightly, genuinely glad as he is to see her; and he does crouch down to scratch bear behind his ears. ]
Hey, [ he responds, and keeps looking at bear as he says, quiet like someone who's been through all the five stages of grief and has finally arrived at acceptance, ] Junpei's gone. It's been over a week, now. So I figured...
[ well. he figured she might get it. he glances up, then, ] She was like a sister to me. [ he doesn't say her name, but who else would he be talking about? ] To lose one is bad enough, but both at once?
[ She should say more than that. He's clearly here to be comforted, clearly under the mistaken impression that she's capable of making him feel better, but she can't even work up the energy to make an attempt. Her arms hang limply at her sides. ]
[ but that is where she is wrong, of course — he seeks no comfort. there is none, not really; and someone who's grieving the same way he is... well, even if he wanted comfort, he wouldn't ask it from her.
instead, he huffs out a laugh. ]
Nah, it's fine. Just — you get it, don't you? Root's gone, too. And I don't want to talk to others, because it'll be I'm sorry or at least you had this time together or other platitudes, and it's...
[ well. none of it will make him feel better, so he doesn't want to pretend that it does. ]
[Shaw finishes the sentence, crossing her arms tight over her chest. She turns to move away into the living room, but gestures him forward, not wanting him to take her withdrawal as a dismissal. He might not be able to drink, but she can, and she already has an opened bottle sitting on the coffee table.
Luckily, it's the only one in sight, and that includes the trash can. She may drink to cope, but she doesn't appear to be overdoing it.]
You want the apartment back?
[She says this as she sits down heavily on the couch, contemplating the bottle in her hands.]
[It's a guess, honestly, rather than something she has personal experience with. She doesn't want to walk away from this apartment that she's shared with Root for the past several months: it's a nice place, there's some stuff here that she likes, and she wants to keep Root's things safe. But if push came to shove, if she had to vacate, she knows that she could do so easily. Sentimentality is a conscious choice, not something that's a part of her DNA.]
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expiationnet
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hey, good to hear from you
glad that you're okay. i've died a couple of times in this place and coming back's always
a bit disorienting, innit?
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there's people with all kinds of stories and experiences here. would be right stupid to doubt, wouldn't it?
wanna tell me more about it? ... dying, i guess?
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if you're looking for information on the afterlife, sorry. I'm as in the dark as you.
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and i didn't mean it like that. i've got plenty of information about the afterlife, actually
just... well. can't imagine it's easy for you, if those simulations are what you're used to, to be stuck here, can it?
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[Which is to say, no, it's no cakewalk.]
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anything i can do for you that'd help? you or root, really. i know i haven't known you as long as i have her, but... you're important to me, too.
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[It's not really meant to be read with hostility, but, well... tone is hard through text. Sorry, Charles.]
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yeah, actually
hope you don't mind that, cause you're stuck with me now
me AND all the sap
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and how much you expect in return
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and my best mate's from the 1910s
took me near twenty years to get him used to hugs
so you're good
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i'm also from the 20th century but let me tell you, the 80s were mighty different than the 1910s
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because you're getting a hug when i see you next.
don't worry, you can punch me after if it makes you feel better, i won't even feel it
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is it supposed to matter?
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but for what it's worth, doesn't matter to me one bit. you are who you are.
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but thanks
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so i'm just gonna prove it to you. you're pretty aces, shaw, honest
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I barely know you but you seem ok too
your apartment is sweet
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ha, thanks. though i'm pretty sure it's you guys' apartment now
i live elsewhere and stuff anyway
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no need for the apartment, really
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i mean, we're both from an earth, but whether it's the same one...
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i mean, how's it any different, in the end, from being with someone in your own world? you still might have days, or weeks, or years together. knowing that we might be on borrowed time here doesn't make it any less real
doesn't make me love him any less, either
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some people just get really into the idea of forever, that's all. it just sets them up to get hurt
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being with him's worth more to me than anything else. don't care if it means getting hurt, now do i? this is what we've got, here and now, and i'm gonna make the most of it. that's all
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[ Insert address here! She's going to make you help her carry a few bags back to the apartment, Root. ]
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[But truthfully, she doesn't have much to carry: she's used to traveling light, and even though she hadn't packed anything from the apartment to take with her for the month, she hasn't accumulated much stuff during her time away. Bear's things go in a tote bag that gets slung over one shoulder, the clothes and toiletries she'd bought for herself go in a duffle that gets slung over the other, and in her hands she carries a small paper gift bag. Everything else from the little free house - all the basic furniture and home goods that had been there when she'd moved in - gets left behind.
Shortly after sending that last message, she arrives at the apartment, letting Bear off his leash before they both come through the door.]
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That means she and Charles have spent the time Shaw was gone redecorating. The random storage piles are now tidied and put away into the second bedroom, and the living area is redone in a lush explosion of purple. There's a shag carpet, a beaded lamp... and a very comfortable-looking couch beside a new bed for Bear.
Root has a wrapped gift on the dining table, too, a shallow rectangular box. She's leaning casually back against the edge of the table, dressed in black jeans and tank top. ]
Mi casa es tu casa.
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[Shaw asks dryly, taking in the new decor as she unshoulders both of the bigger bags. Bear, of course, is less discerning; he immediately runs over to check out the new furniture (couch first, then dog bed). Then she spots the gift on the table, glances down at the bag still in her hands, and shoots Root a quick, awkward look.]
I, uh-- I don't know if my thing counts as a real gift.
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[ It really is. It's so adorable that it makes Shaw awkward, though, like Root really cares about whether or not she gets a gift back. Every time Shaw comes back to her she feels enough of a thrill. She knows what it means.
She straightens up from her casual slump and steps forward toward Shaw, hands raising and finding her collarbones, flattening, sliding along to the edge until her palms cup her shoulders. ]
You miss me again? I missed you.
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I'm glad you're still here.
[She can't fully say she's glad that she's still here, even though she can't fully say she wishes she wasn't, either. But she is here, and being glad that Root is here with her is about as uncomplicated as it gets.]
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But she takes what she can get while she can get it, without an ounce of regret. She surges forward and presses Shaw against the plush magenta couch, pushing her into an enthusiastic kiss, one leg straddling over Shaw between hers and teasingly applying pressure.
The world is complicated but how they feel for one another doesn't have to be. Root agrees completely.
She pulls back and meets her eyes with dark intensity. ] I won't give you up. Wherever you go, whatever happens, I'll come after you if I can.
You gonna be mine? [ Root arches up, pressing into her, challenging. ]
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[Shaw reaches around her to gently set the little bag on the floor, then immediately reaches back for Root: sliding her hands from her hips and up her sides, underneath her shirt.]
Gonna be? I already am.
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I wanna take you apart into tiny little pieces. And then let you return the favor.
timeskip?
[Without pulling her gaze away from Root's face, Shaw slips one hand out from underneath Root's shirt, snaps her fingers, and points to the bedroom. Bear immediately gets to his feet and trots through the open door.
Sorry, Bear. There are some things that innocent puppies shouldn't see.]
I won't be able to return the favor, if you do it right. Rip me apart, then ask for a raincheck.
yes'm
[ Shaw sending Bear away is invitation enough. It turns out that the gift Root has for the both of them is a traditional cupping set. She hadn't forgotten Shaw's comment months ago about that, had tracked one down and saved it for this moment. Modern versions use suction devices instead of fire using up the oxygen to create the vacuum, but Root knows Shaw and she hadn't settled for less.
She takes her apart as meticulously as she'd promised on top of the dining table, alternating wicked edging toward orgasm and red-hot capillary-breaking glass jars set on her skin. Mostly her back, but not entirely. Traditional cupping means Root lights an alcohol-soaked cotton ball on a stick on fire and holds it beneath the open jar before swiftly pulling it away and setting the hot rim of glass on her. It pulls red bruises to the surface immediately, and her inner thighs are especially tender, Root working her over with gradually increasing intensity and a deep sense of pleasure and satisfaction.
She doesn't care about her own physical relief; it's a benefit sometimes, being a woman and a cerebral one, that she doesn't mind delaying or denying her physical release. The mental release is so much rarer and so much more precious to her. She can go as long as Shaw needs to fall apart and she won't be distracted.
Once she thinks Shaw has had enough she crawls up onto the table, which creaks beneath their combined weight, and starts licking luxuriously over the marks she's left behind. She feels like a cat who's been given cream and wants to rub herself all over her in territorial claim. ]
r o o t !!!!
So much of how Shaw interacts with people feels deliberate, forced, and calculated, rather than instinctual. She's fine with that. She's proud of herself, even, for the way she's successfully socialized herself into being a mostly-functional human being despite her very obvious limitations. But whether she's in a firefight or having sex, it's so nice to be able to strip all of that away and get down to the brass tacks of her most basic self. So right now, she doesn't mentally sort through a litany of potential affection options, carefully selecting the one that she thinks Root will like the most or that will best convey a particular message that she's trying to send. She just lets her body do whatever the hell it wants, which in this case is pressing her palm hard against the side of Root's neck: not like she's trying to push her away, but like she's trying to sink her hand into her skin, seeking her warmth.]
torture and edging have a lot in common ok
Their limits are mutually a few steps past where anyone else wants to go.
She pulls up and whispers, soft and caring, ] Poor little Sameen. Everyone is either scared of you or wants to take care of you, don't they?
But what you want is for someone to pry you open with a crowbar. [ Root curls her nails into one of the welts. Shaw has probably had enough by now, but-- one step farther feels so seductive... Root wants to push and push. ]
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Root.
[Her breathing is ragged and juddering. This means keep going.]
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You're too strong for them. Everyone else gets tired out before you've had enough, don't they, [ she coos, pressing in harder. Blood begins to well up, beading along the skin with the broken capillaries seeping through to the surface. ]
But I can go as long and as far as you want, sweetheart.
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But she's not wrong: Shaw does want to be pried open, and there's a big part of her that likes that Root can really, honestly wear her out, leaving her lying still and unable to push back. And as much as she also enjoys the competition and the push and pull, there's no need for genuine pretense or denial here: she is spent.]
How many marks?
[She asks - her head thrown back, her eyes closed.]
Do some inventory.
more timeskip
She's never felt like she needed to say I love you because she feels certain this is closer to Sameen's native language, and will mean more this way.
Eventually she grabs a fuzzy pink couch blanket and crawls back onto the table with her, draping it over them. Root knows how fast someone can get cold lying naked on a table once the fun's over. She curls up around her and whispers, ] How'd I do? You doing okay?
[ Maybe they don't need to have the before conversation, but it would be irresponsible not to at least check in after. ]
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[Her voice is slurred and sleepy, as if she's been lulled into a trance by Root's attentions. But she's clearly not completely out of it, because after a moment or two of them lying there together, she suddenly sits up, loosely clutching the blanket.]
Root, we can't lie on the table.
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Not with that attitude we can't.
[ She's just saying that to be sassy. Root sits up when she does and reaches out to affectionately brush Shaw's hair out of her face. ]
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Leaving the blanket with Root, she hops off the table and makes her way back over to the couch, retrieving the little gift bag she'd brought with her. Inside is a small object wrapped in tissue paper that, once unwrapped, turns out to be a fist-sized pewter carving of an elephant, in mid-step with its trunk held aloft. Without further ado, she places it on the mantle. There. A single decor item has been contributed by Sameen Shaw.]
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When Shaw reveals the elephant knick-knack and triumphantly places it on the mantle, Root bursts into short giggles that she muffles into the fuzzy pink blanket. ]
I'm sorry to tell you, but you're the man in this relationship.
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[She asks, turning around and squinting suspiciously at Root. Are you making fun of her elephant? How dare you.]
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You tell me. What inspired this?
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[Shaw crosses her arms stubbornly over her chest.]
People decorate their apartments. My parents had an elephant carving when I was a kid, but ivory is bad now.
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Root springs to her feet, leaving the blanket behind and wearing only a tanktop, utterly uncaring of it leaving her lower half bare. She strides across the room to Shaw with a smile that's Root's particular brand of mixed earnestness and mischievousness. ]
As long as this elephant is here, you can definitely say it's your apartment.
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Don't make it weird. Anyway, I thought you being here was what made it my apartment.
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After what we just did on that table, I hope this is our apartment, [ she says teasingly, reaching out to draw her in. The sight of her covered in marks and wearing Root's shirt is very appealing. ] We should clean you up.
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Hot water would be painful on these welts.
[She does not necessarily mean that as a bad thing.]
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[ However hot or not hot she wants it is good with Root. She steps away and turns to stride toward the bathroom, calling out, ] Bear, vrij.
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[And speaking of-- he trots over, and Shaw reaches out to give his ears a good rub.]
Hey, buddy.
[She murmurs quietly, just barely loud enough for Root to hear.]
You glad Root is back? You missed her, huh. It was weird not having her here.
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[ Root walks away with an intentional sashay to her hips, letting the hem of Shaw's shirt frame the top of her bare ass. She's deliberately seduced people plenty of times and she knows how to put on a show. ]
I thought of you every day, [ she says over her shoulder, and then disappears into the bathroom. ]
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What kinds of thoughts did you have about me?
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Charles's boyfriend works at the sandwich place, it turns out.
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[Shaw is worn out. Shaw wants a shower, and then she wants to lie down. Shaw absolutely does not need more sex right now.
Absolutely none of this stops her from trying to lift up the back of Root's shirt.]
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She realizes Shaw does not even want more sex at the moment, but she's not so lust-addled that she can't appreciate the physical intimacy without the promise of an orgasm. She doesn't pull away, just looks over her shoulder at Shaw with an appreciative look, grateful to have her here. ]
Don't be silly. They're not ready to double date with us. [ Root smirks. ] Charles said they hold hands and cuddle. It's so wholesome.
[ She loves them really, it's very adorable, but it's about a million light-years from what she and Shaw are like together. ]
backdated delivery... from the okc times
Enjoy (belated) your pepperoncini monstrosity, Shaw.]
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Hey, honey. You didn't forget what day it is, did you?
[ Like Root actually cares about holidays, but she's absolutely going to take any chance to treat Shaw like she's a conventional disappointing heterosexual husband. ]
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Uh...
[Honestly, yes.]
Maybe. Why?
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[ Root winks egregiously to take any possible sting out of it. ]
Up and at 'em, I have plans for us! Bear can come, too.
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Okay. But only if I don't have to dress like that.
[The little smile is meant to take roughly half of any possible sting out of it. The other half can stay, as far as she's concerned; she's positive that Root played up the ridiculousness of her outfit entirely on purpose, which means that she brought this on herself.]
Sit tight; I'm gonna get dressed.
[This is said on her way to the bedroom; also on the way there, she leans in to try to get a peek into Root's bag.]
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Just the essentials so far. We'll have to make a couple stops on the way.
Wear whatever you want, [ she says brightly, ] but make sure you have something cute on under your clothes.
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A few minutes later, she reappears, giving Root another look up and down.]
That ring of yours is on the wrong finger. How are you gonna let the whole world know I've planted my flag if you don't wear it right?
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When Shaw returns she's surprised into a brief, bright peal of laughter. ] Is that what we're calling it? [ She shoulders her bag again and comes over to needlessly straighten the lapel on Shaw's blazer, charmed by the thought that went into her outfit. Her willingness to go along with Root's whims essentially without explanation makes her feel warm and treasured. ]
It's Valentine's Day, by the way. It's silly, but I thought we could do something together since there's no missions keeping us busy.
[ Which is sad in its own right, but Root might as well take advantage of it for the positives it does offer. ]
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[Shaw says dryly - swatting performatively at her hands, but stopping just shy of actually brushing them away.]
Play your cards right, and I'll even get you a present.
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[ Root can't resist teasing her even as she breaks away to lead her out the door, canting her hips so the skirt swishes to and fro. ]
You do have some catching up to do in the present department.
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Good thing you got the ring covered; I'm off the hook.
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[ Root puts on a coat and then shuffles them out the door, all three of them, as she returns the banter. She clearly has a plan because she doesn't mind leading them and sets out unerringly from their apartment. ]
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[It's said as a challenge. If she's wrong (and despite her words, she knows that she very well might be; Root has had a weird-ass life and has run some even weirder cons), then she wants to hear this story.]
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[ Get them into a committed relationship with an attractive woman who panders to them, and you can get practically anything out of them. ]
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Come on, full story. Was he a dick? What did you need out of him? Did you make him cry?
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Which one? [ she asks dryly. ] It wasn't one time. They were just jobs, Shaw.
[ Sometimes fun, but ultimately jobs. Root doesn't have any emotional attachment to those guys. She's typically more concerned with being onto the next one. ]
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I'm not jealous, I'm curious. I didn't do the honey-trapping thing much; I didn't have the patience for it.
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[ But sure, she can talk about it. It's kind of hilariously appropriate for Valentine's Day, in their own way.
Actually... ] Did I ever tell you how I introduced myself to Harry? That was a long game, too.
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[Okay, she knows that can't have been how it happened, but goddamn is it a funny mental image.]
I, uh-- I asked him about you once, actually, really early on. He did say you two had a complicated history.
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[ Root is thorough, okay? It was a viable option. And she does like Grace, really hadn't wanted to hurt her, and is fervently glad now she never did. Harold and Grace both didn't deserve that under any circumstances. She sees that now. She doesn't agree with all the lines the Machine draws, but this one, she gets. At least in retrospect. ]
Complicated was a kind way to put it, [ she says wryly. ] I kidnapped him. But that's not why I was bringing it up.
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Okay.
[She means it as an opening: then why were you bringing it up, Root?]
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Okay, so, I had to establish a pretty deep cover as a clinical psychologist for months ahead of time. Mostly for rich self-important men. It was very similar to convincing some schmuck that I was in love with him.
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And how did you feel about that?
[Sorry, Root; you left the dumb joke window wide open.]
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Frankly, it was tedious, but ultimately worth it. Because one day, someone fun showed up on Dr. Turing's client list. You might know him--
[ Slyly, ] John Rooney?
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No way. On a job, or looking for help with his dark and tortured soul?
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Easiest way to get close to me to protect me was to be a client. Things were so simple back then, [ she muses. ]
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-- Well. She doesn't think it until Root says that last bit, anyway. She tugs on a lock of Root's hair, prodding:]
So how long did it take him to figure you out, and how far did he go with the chivalry before he did?
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So little faith in my acting skills. Mr. Rooney kindly fought off a full-scale assault by HR while he had his mysterious partner bring me to safety.
Wait here a second. [ She ducks in to grab the bag of sandwiches she'd ordered ahead and comes right back out carrying it. ] This is just a pit stop.
Anyway, I did give him real therapy before all that went down. Veterans so commonly have hypervigilance. [ Root is absolutely on the train of lovingly roasting people who are probably dead. She'd expect nothing else for her memory, either; remembering someone at all is sweet. ]
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Root, no offense, but are you actually qualified to give people real therapy?
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I'm probably more qualified than most of the people charging for it, [ she huffs. You can take the girl out of the cynical nihilist forum boards but you can't take the cynicism out of the girl. She'd legitimately studied for her clinical psychologist cover, at least, whether or not she has a real license. ]
I really didn't get what Harold saw in him at the time. Apart from a nice loyal pet.
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She hmms, glancing away from Root and down at her feet.]
You ever change your mind about that?
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Well. He raised hell with me to find you, no questions asked, after you were taken. [ She keeps looking straight ahead steadily as she walks. ] So I came around.
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[She cuts herself off, wondering if she should even be bringing this up. Root is trying to show her a nice time; surely she doesn't want her to ruin it.]
Uh. Yeah. Good for him.
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Her step lightens and she looks over at Shaw sidelong with interest. ]
No, go on. What happened in the simulations?
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[She shrugs, discomfited.]
Doesn't matter; I shouldn't've mentioned it.
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She doesn't offer any sympathy; she just says, ] Anything else you want to fact check? Maybe I'm not totally real but at least I can provide a counter-narrative to Samaritan.
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[It's not a conversation she's completely opposed to having, but she hates the idea of getting into those weeds now, and tainting whatever Root has planned for them. She drops her hand to her side, playing her fingers against Root's palm.]
Tell me more about John's fake therapy. What happened after that?
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[ Root accepts that without second guessing it, smoothly taking Shaw's hand and lacing their fingers together fully. They keep walking, Bear padding along beside them, this time heading toward the outskirts of town. She purposefully goes for the breezy dramatic version of the rest of the story. ]
There was an ex NSA staffer who figured out Harry built the Machine, so I killed her. Then I lured the staffer's supervisor to the love cabin he kept for his mistress and tried to torture him for the Machine's location, but Harold had some issues with my methods. He got him free and I had to kill him, too.
The whole thing is kind of a long story.
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The five shades of green he turned when I told him I'd met you are starting to make a lot more sense now. I figured you'd just out-hacked him or something.
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Cheerfully: ] Oh, I did that, too. His systems were so interesting I had to dig further-- that's how I found her.
[ Root brings them to a stop in front of a convenience store. ]
Your turn. Beer and whiskey, please. Chop chop.
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[Shaw drawls, with offense that's both exaggerated and also entirely feigned. She gives Bear's ears a rub, tells him to stay ("Blijf"), and then disappears into the store. Ten minutes later, she comes back out with a bag: large, paper, and with a folded-down opening that she has no plans to let Root peek into just yet.]
So how many errands are we running on the way to this mystery spot?
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[ This is absolutely Root making fun of her. She has an exaggerated imploring expression, almost a pout, as she sets off again, looking at Shaw over her shoulder. ]
Wine and candles for my girl? Romcom at the theater?
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[Which is to say that, yes, Shaw is relaxed and pleased and Root is doing a very good job so far. Adjusting her grip on the paper bag, she adds:]
You gonna have me close my eyes at some point here? Can't let me ruin the surprise of where we're headed.
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[ They're heading steadily toward the edge of town and then outside of it toward the woods. There's a small wooden hut set a ways back into the forest that Root's angling them to... ]
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I would have let you.
[But then she's immediately charging ahead and down the path, powerwalking towards that cabin that she's betting is their final destination.]
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The cabin is indeed their final destination, and as Shaw comes up on it she'll realize it's a traditional free-standing Finnish sauna. The coal stove is already fired up and warm, a nice contrast to the thin layer of snow scattered around the area. ]
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Are we gonna eat in there?
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[ In their underwear, of course, hence Root's earlier instructions. And you're definitely not supposed to eat in saunas, but if they clean up after themselves, who really cares? ]
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[But she can eat while standing, so after setting the bag from the liquor store down on the ground outside the cabin, she proceeds to do just that - still watching Root with a little grin on her face.]
How'd you find this? You don't go walking around in the woods much, do you?
un: deadboydetective; backdated
but no. he may not like to face the truth, but there it is: root's gone, junpei's gone, and when he finally comes to terms with that, he realises there's someone else going through the exact same thing he is, now.
and maybe, maybe she'd like some company to feel a little less alone. ]
hey, shaw? you home?
un: firecracker; text
But she knows what he means, so.]
I'm in the apartment
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[ he's not asking, because then she has no chance to say no. ]
mirror or door?
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my answer is never going to be mirror
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[ it doesn't take long, though, for a knock to sound from the door; he could simply step through, but that seems... invasive. like the door is a physical barrier between shaw and the rest of the world, and he doesn't want to break it down. he knows all too well how it feels, to remove yourself from those around you, even for a while, to grieve alone. ]
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Bear the Belgian Malinois sniffs at Charles' shoes. Shaw gives him an utterly blank look as she steps back to let him in.]
Hey.
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Hey, [ he responds, and keeps looking at bear as he says, quiet like someone who's been through all the five stages of grief and has finally arrived at acceptance, ] Junpei's gone. It's been over a week, now. So I figured...
[ well. he figured she might get it. he glances up, then, ] She was like a sister to me. [ he doesn't say her name, but who else would he be talking about? ] To lose one is bad enough, but both at once?
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[ She should say more than that. He's clearly here to be comforted, clearly under the mistaken impression that she's capable of making him feel better, but she can't even work up the energy to make an attempt. Her arms hang limply at her sides. ]
I'd offer you a drink, but, uh--
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instead, he huffs out a laugh. ]
Nah, it's fine. Just — you get it, don't you? Root's gone, too. And I don't want to talk to others, because it'll be I'm sorry or at least you had this time together or other platitudes, and it's...
[ well. none of it will make him feel better, so he doesn't want to pretend that it does. ]
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[Shaw finishes the sentence, crossing her arms tight over her chest. She turns to move away into the living room, but gestures him forward, not wanting him to take her withdrawal as a dismissal. He might not be able to drink, but she can, and she already has an opened bottle sitting on the coffee table.
Luckily, it's the only one in sight, and that includes the trash can. She may drink to cope, but she doesn't appear to be overdoing it.]
You want the apartment back?
[She says this as she sits down heavily on the couch, contemplating the bottle in her hands.]
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Yeah. Exactly.
[ it sucks — that's succinctly put, but entirely true. he follows her after a beat, and simply flops down cross-legged in the middle of the room. ]
Nah, it's yours. I've got the house, still. It feels empty, but the idea of leaving it...
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[It's a guess, honestly, rather than something she has personal experience with. She doesn't want to walk away from this apartment that she's shared with Root for the past several months: it's a nice place, there's some stuff here that she likes, and she wants to keep Root's things safe. But if push came to shove, if she had to vacate, she knows that she could do so easily. Sentimentality is a conscious choice, not something that's a part of her DNA.]