[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... ]
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expiationnet
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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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