Shaw sat against the wall and tried to gasp for breath. The number she had been helping turned out to be a perpetrator and ambushed her. All of her intel suggested that he was the victim so she didn't bother checking him for weapons. When she tried to escort him to safety, however, she had been caught off guard when he pulled a knife on her. Two quick stabs to her chest left her in her current predicament while her attacker ran free.
She knew she should have stayed on her feet, but the force with which he lunged left her off balance. In addition, she stumbled backwards into the wall, effectively knocking the wind from her.
“Shaw?” The Machine spoke through her earpiece. “Are you all right? I can't see you.”
“Oh, I've been better,” she replied, turning her head to the side to spit blood from her mouth.
“I've called an ambulance. Estimated arrival time is eight minutes. Think you can hang on?”
“Not much else to do.”
Shaw sighed and struggled to shrug off her jacket, Root's jacket, intending to use it to slow down the bleeding. Seeing the garment, however, she couldn't bring herself to sully it. Certainly Root had blood cleaned from it countless times, this time would have been no different. Still, she simply clutched it in her hand, reveling in the creaking of the leather.
Since Root's been gone, Shaw's felt unlike herself. Like her body went on autopilot when they learned of her death. She had held on to a measure of hope for some time, however. Lionel had identified Root in the morgue, but the body disappeared prior to burial. The hospital administration said it was a processing error, but Shaw's been involved with artificial intelligence long enough that a computer “error” seemed like anything but a coincidence. She spoke with Lionel about her theory, but he brushed it off as just her grief taking hold. Even the Machine 2.0 had agreed that this idea of Root being alive was her mind helping her heart to cope with reality.
Nevertheless, Shaw conducted her own investigation for several months following the destruction of Samaritan. All her leads turned up empty, leaving her feeling empty herself. She occupied her mind with Root---the Machine's---missions. Her life had become a waiting game of sorts; waiting for the next number, the next brush with death, the inevitable misstep that would result in her actual death. Maybe she was looking forward to that one the most.
This time, she felt her luck may have actually run out. She felt heaviness in her body, along with a difficulty breathing. Her stab wounds were causing an uncomfortable pulling on her chest with each inhale and exhale. A chill had made it's way into her body, her limbs cold and unresponsive. Shaw has had serious injuries in the past, but there was a finality to this one that she couldn't ignore. Perhaps it was knowing that she was truly alone; No team rocket to come blasting to her rescue, Lionel was no longer in the loop, and eight minutes on an EMT was very generous in New York City.
She closed her eyes for a moment. Surely, a couple of seconds of rest wouldn't hurt.
“Hey sweetie. You're not giving up on me yet, are you?”
Shaw slowly opened her eyes. It was challenging as they were so very heavy. She blinked the fogginess away and laid eyes upon Root. Of course, Root was dead. It was obvious her mind was playing tricks on her. So close to death herself that she created this... phantasm to help comfort her.
Shaw raised an eyebrow at the figure. She looked enough like Root; black jeans, and a gray t shirt that Shaw recognized as being a bit unlucky. No jacket though. Ghosts couldn't really get cold, she supposed.
“Quite the mess you're in. And you said I was a magnet for trouble.”
“You are... you were.”
“Don't be like that,” Root held an easy smile on her face. She was glowing, without a care in the whole world. She looked positively radiant. Shaw would have given anything to see that look again for real.
If she was going to die anyway, why not indulge her subconscious? “Root?”
“Yes, Sameen?”
“I wish I could have been there.”
“I know.”
Root walked back and forth, Shaw was getting dizzy trying to follow her movements. Eventually, the apparition sat against the wall next to her. They both stared forward.
“Stay awake for me, okay?” Root spoke up again, “Help is on the way.”
Shaw bobbed her head in acknowledgment. Just a few more minutes.
“Is that my jacket?”
“Hmm?” Shaw spared a glance to the leather still clutched tightly in her hand.
“You're making me feel all fuzzy inside,” Root wrapped her arms around herself and bumped her shoulder into Shaw. “Who knew you were so sentimental?”
“Shut up,” Shaw replied. It was playful, lacking in bite. She had missed this. So very much.
Root's laugh echoed around her, then silence fell. Minutes went by. or maybe just seconds, before she spoke again. Shaw recognized that she should be conserving her strength, but she wanted to concentrate on something aside from her failing body.
“I'm sorry,” her own voice sounded strange, like she was underwater.
“What for?”
“I couldn't...” She stopped herself. What could she say? Sorry I couldn't save you? Couldn't love you?
Root breathed out a laugh, “It's okay, Sameen.” She knew Shaw sometimes had trouble with her words. She had known her so well.
The edges of Shaw's vision were starting to blur. She turned her head to Root, who met her eyes. Shaw felt so lucky to spend her final moments gazing into their depths. They were so warm and loving.
“...Root?”
“Yes?”
“I'm dying.”
“Sameen...”
“You'll wait with me?” She felt like she was losing control of her body. Sleep pulled her heart and mind. She couldn't hold out much longer.
“Absolutely.”
She turned to look forward again. Root's hand slid into hers, interlacing her black painted nails. She thought she could feel the heat from her hand.
“Am I... going to see you again?”
“Maybe,” Root said in her sing-songy voice.
“In the afterlife?” Shaw wheezed out a laugh, a cough tore through her body.
Root laughed, too. “In the afterlife. It's a date.” She paused, “And... maybe before then, too. Once you get out of this. You just need to hang on.”
Shaw must have misunderstood. She turned her head back to Root...
She was no longer there.
She looked down at her hand. It was still warm.
She could hear someone shouting in the distance. The ground shook with footsteps. Black spots prickled her vision and she finally gave in and shut her eyes.
>
“Root?!”
Shaw sat up with a start, thinking she was waking from a strange dream when she felt the pull of stitches in her chest. Her hand came up against the bandages on her breastbone and she groaned while trying to steady her breathing. So the stabbing was real.
She glanced around the hospital room and her eyes fell upon her cellphone and earpiece on the side table. The phone started ringing and she rubbed her face with her hand before reaching to grab the earpiece.
“What happened?” She managed, answering the call.
“You gave me quite a scare,” the Machine said. “How are you feeling?”
“Peachy.”
“That's my girl.”
Shaw paused for a moment before speaking in a low voice. “I saw her. While I was waiting. At least, I thought I did.”
She understood that the Machine 2.0 chose not to support the strange circumstances surrounding Root's death, and prepared for a verbal scolding of sorts. But none came. Perhaps She realized that imagining Root by her side was what helped her to hang on. Shaw would always fight for Root, no matter the circumstances.
Shaw felt a pang of longing in her chest when she thought about the words they shared; seeing her eyes that lit up the room, her smile that made all the pain go away, her voice like the sweetest symphony.
More likely, she thought, this feeling was coming from the fresh stitches in her chest. But there was something she couldn't place. Something about what the Root phantasm had said... Shaw paused to look down at her right hand, running her thumb across the tips of her fingers.
She could still feel the warmth from Root's hand. That part felt real.
“You should get some rest.”
Shaw nodded, but there was a knock at the door before she could lay back down. A stranger entered the room carrying an envelope.
“S. Shaw?” He read from a clipboard, “I have a delivery for you.”
Shaw raised an eyebrow, “from who?”
He walked towards her and held the letter out. “Not sure, she just requested I deliver this to you personally. Paid in cash, too.”
“She?”
“Your friend. Sign here.” He held the clipboard to her. She took the pen and scribbled her name.
The Machine was the friend, she assumed. When he left, she opened the envelope. Inside was a get well card with a newspaper clipping attached. It was a report of a four alarm fire that ravaged a coffee shop close to the hospital. Odd, she doesn't remember hearing the commotion from a fire that large.
“Wait.” she breathed. A four alarm fire?
That phrase had saved her life once before and she struggled to understand the relevancy to her current situation.
“What is this?”
“What is what, sweetie?”
Shaw held her phone camera in front of the paper. “This.”
“According to records, the information is inaccurate. That particular coffee house is still standing. I wish I had more for you.” The Machine paused, “you sure you're feeling all right?”
Shaw rubbed her palm against her forehead, the throbbing of a headache forming behind her eyes. Four alarm fire was something that she and Root shared, it didn't make sense in this context. It was even more concerning that the Machine wasn't aware of it.
She took her earpiece out and pulled the card from the envelope. On the front was a computer engulfed in flames with the text 'wishing you a speedy reboot'. What the hell?
Opening the card, she saw a handwritten inscription with a time and date: today at 6PM. She felt sharp a tug of familiarity. She recognized the printing...
She quickly checked the time on her phone.
5:26PM
Her heart rate quickened. This was certainly just a strange coincidence. The Machine must be playing a trick on her. Either that, or she was still dreaming.
What she saw in the warehouse wasn't real, surely. And yet... what was it Root had said years ago about Pandora's box... ?
Hope...
She let out a breath, a her lips climbing up into a smirk. She had nothing left to lose anyway.
“Hang on, Root. I'm coming.”