At the End of the Tunnel
The first time Shaw actually escapes, she assumes it's another simulation.
This one should be around the 15,000 mark, and she's been through it so many times that it all feels morbidly familiar. Greer and his minions really outdid themselves with this one, Shaw thinks to herself – they had simulated an elaborate shutdown of the Samaritan facility by the Machine, conveniently unlocking her cell and all the doors along the heavily fortified corridors connecting her cell to the lobby. Though she knew in the back of her head that none of it was real, Shaw followed the path anyway. Not like she had anything better to do. The hail of gunfire around her made her yawn. What shit was Greer gonna pull this time?
--
The first time she sees Root's face, she assumes that's a simulation too – not that it makes her any more numb to it. Reuniting with her in this false reality has grown familiar; even if she can't quite remember the previous scenarios, she knows it's the same (and though she'll never admit it, she lets herself enjoy it like it's real every time.)
What's different this simulation – and what makes her pause for a moment – is that unlike the previous scenarios, Root doesn't appear like Shaw remembers her. The bright-eyed hacker's face looks older, more worn than it did a year ago, and she stands limply, like every inch of her body is aching. Her eyes are duller.
"Sameen," slips from her lips, awestruck and pained, and Shaw feels something in the pit of her stomach. Root hesitantly lowers her pistol, but doesn't move towards her, still in shock. Shaw comes to her instead, fingers brushing the fabric of Root's shirt – carefully, like it'll give away to lines of coding if she focuses on it too deeply.
"Sam," she whispers again, broken, and Shaw thinks for a moment that maybe this time isn't a simulation, because nothing in Shaw's imagination would be able to place that kind of pain in Root's eyes.
The moment is cut short by another storm of bullets, and Root is pulling her by the wrist towards a back exit in the facility. Shaw's atrophied muscles are aching, and a sharp flash of annoyance cuts through her veins at having a hard time keeping up. Once they get outside, Root throws her in the back of a van, Reese appearing and hopping in the driver's seat.
"Get us out of here, fast," Root barks at John before rattling off directions the Machine must be feeding her through the implant. A chill runs down her spine as Shaw flies to the bandage behind her own ear.
"Root, hold up," Shaw interrupts. "Samaritan can track me."
John looks over his shoulder at the bandage Shaw is fingering, and he and Root exchange an anxious look.
Spotting a switchblade in Root's pocket, she pulls it out and hands the taller woman the knife. The van lurches to the side, sending both of them skidding along the small floor.
"I need to extract the chip. John, hold the car as steady as you can for the next 60 seconds, got it?" Root requested. "Let me know if you're about to turn." She turned back to Shaw, worry creasing her face.
"Hold tight, sweetie. We'll get this thing out," Root told her, though Shaw got the sense she was trying to assure herself more than she was Shaw.
Shaw braced herself for the pain of the knife as she looked up at Root. No flirtatious winks or pain-kink innuendos came out of her; there was just anxiety plastered across her face. Looks like Shaw wasn't the only one who was broken.
--
The first time Shaw wakes up post-Samaritan, she feels like a wild animal.
"Sweetie, calm down, calm down," she hears (and feels) Root yelling. She's not fully awake yet, but she feels her body thrashing around of its own accord, Root holding her down on her right, and John on her other side. As her eyes fly open, John's weight on her left shoulder and arm. Claustrophobia flares up in her veins, and her vision goes red.
"Get the fuck off of me!" Shaw snarls, driving Reese back with what little strength she can muster. John pins down her wrist again, and she feels herself slipping back into unconsciousness. No, no, no, no, no...
"John, get off of her!" Root cries, and after a beat, he steps back. Root is still holding onto her other shoulder, but Shaw visibly calms when she's free from Reese's grip.
"I can't... I can't," Shaw chokes out, her breaths fast and catching in her throat.
"Honey, it's okay," Root whispers, loosening her grip on her arm and bringing her other hand to stroke Shaw's sweaty face. "You're in a safe place now. Just lay back and breathe."
Shaw lets her head fall back against the pillow again and her eyes flutter shut. She holds onto Root's hand with a death grip, and she starts to feel slightly more in tune with her body. The inside of her elbow aches a little bit, and she recognizes she probably had yanked an IV out of her arm.
"Where are we?" she asks softly.
"The hospital, sweetie," Root replies, equally soft.
"The chip?"
"It's out. The doctor scanned you for any secondary chips, but didn't find any."
Shaw nodded and relaxed a little, trying to slow her breathing a bit more.
"John?" she hears Root say. "Can you grab a bottle of water from downstairs?" Shaw hears John grunt an affirmation, followed by the click of a door opening and footsteps out.
"Root," Shaw whispers, not daring to open her eyes. "How do I know you're real this time?"
She feels a thumb stroke her cheek and the warmth of a palm on her jaw. "Because, Sam," Root replies, "Every time you wake up, I'm gonna be right there beside you."
--
The first time she sees Finch is when Root and John move her out of the hospital a week later and into a safehouse she hadn't seen before.
"Sameen," Finch calls out, both relief and guilt hiding in his eyes. "I'm so glad to see you're safe."
Shaw just nods at him and lets Root escort her to her bedroom. She feels weird being around Finch and Reese – moreso around Finch. She can see in their eyes that they don't fully trust her yet. It's not like Shaw can blame them; in their positions, she would have put herself under 24/7 surveillance and assume the worst. But still, it stung. The others were careful not to talk about it when Shaw was in the room, though she had overheard more than once Root's voice raising when talking to John or on the phone with Finch. Root's face always turned cool and upbeat when she stepped back into Shaw's hospital room, but she knew Root was trying to keep Finch's and Reese's feelings from her.
Shaw sits on the bed, observing a strange shag rug beneath her feet, as Root flits around the room and shows her where she's put clothing, extra blankets, extra pillows, painkillers, bottles of water, and a couple books. Last but not least, she pulls a pair of bunny slippers out from under the bed and drops them at her feet.
"Bunny slippers? Seriously?" Shaw tries to force her old annoyed tone out of her throat, but she's tired, and she can't quite hide that she actually likes them.
Root smiles at her, the fullest smile she's had since they rescued Shaw. "Of course, sweetie. I have a pair just like them. Just be careful around Bear, he'll steal them if you let him."
"What a tragic loss that would be." Shaw tries to smile back at Root.
After a couple moments of eye contact, Root moves to sit next to Shaw. Her hand comes tentatively to Sam's back, and when she doesn't flinch away, Root lets herself stroke her back softly.
"Are you staying here?" Shaw asks. She tries to keep her voice uninterested, but the undertone of Please, please stay is loud enough for Root to hear.
"Yes," Root replies. "For as long as you'll let me."
--
The first time Shaw has a panic attack, she dials Root's number.
Root's in the bedroom, and Shaw's in the kitchen, but Shaw can barely breathe, much less move, and every second that passes, the chances of the atmosphere swallowing her whole increases.
She's not sure how it started – all she did was get up to grab a glass of water – but now she's shaking on the floor of the safehouse kitchen and everything is getting fuzzy. The contents of her stomach are churning and her hands are clammy and no matter how hard she tries, she can't get her breathing out of overdrive.
Hands quaking, Shaw pulls her phone out of her pocket, which slips from her shaky grip and onto the floor. She's pulling in air in shallow gasps but her head is going numb and she's trying to stay calm long enough to act but it's too much. She paws at the phone display until it awakens, and she hits 2, suddenly thankful Root had insisted on putting her number on speed dial.
"Hey, sweetie," Shaw hears faintly from the phone, which is still lying at her feet. When there isn't a reply other than faint hurried breathing, Root calls out, "Sam? Sam, are you alright?"
After a few heartbeats, Shaw hears footsteps getting closer to the kitchen, and she shakily brings her knees to her chest.
"Oh honey," Root whispers when she walks in and finds Shaw, tear stricken and panicking in the corner. She drops to her knees, placing her hands on top of Shaw's, and Shaw chokes out a muffled sob.
"Sweetheart, what happened?" Root asks softly, trying to draw assessments from Shaw's disheveled appearance.
Shaw forms the words in her mouth, trying to get them out, but can't – one more damn thing she isn't in charge of. Tears of frustration threatened to bubble out of her -- the
Shaw she used to be didn't have fucking panic attacks -- and she was sure her heart was moments away from beating right out of her chest.
"It's okay, it's okay," Root soothed, but Shaw could see the worry in the other woman's eyes which did nothing to help her guilt. "Let's breathe together, okay?"
Shaw tried to hold her breath as long as she could to slow down her breathing tempo, but it made her panic more, and she felt even dizzier. "I – I can't," she choked out, tears freely spilling from her eyes.
"You can. You can, Sam, c'mon, breathe with me, sweetie," Root whispers, taking Shaw's hands in her own and bringing them to her abdomen. Root keeps them firmly planted on her body, Shaw's skin touching the sliver of exposed skin between Root's shirt and pants, and Root slowly breathes in and out.
Shaw concentrates on the rhythm of Root's breathing, feeling her fingertips sink into Root's warm abdomen as she takes each breathe. Her breaths are like waves, ebbing and flowing beneath her palms, and Shaw lets herself sink into them. Shaw starts to become aware of Root's hands on the back of her own hands, the warmth settling into her skin, and she feels Root get closer, warm, steady breaths now reaching Shaw's ear and neck.
"Breathe with me," Root encourages again, and Shaw lets herself sink forward into Root, her forehead falling into the crook of the taller woman's neck. Focusing on Root – warm, sweet, protective, alive Root – helps Shaw find her way back to her own heartbeat and breath pattern.
Neither of them knew how long they stayed like that for – Root kneeling between Shaw's legs, pinning her hands to her stomach – but Shaw slowly gets in control of her breathing, and the shaking and tears easing in turn. With one last shivered sob against Root's neck, Shaw feels steady again.
Root loosens her grip on Shaw's wrists, bringing one hand to stroke the smaller woman's hair softly, and she brings her lips to Shaw's hairline in a gentle kiss. Shaw lets out a long exhale before leaning back from Root, letting her head fall back against the kitchen wall with a dull thud.
"Why is this happening to me," Shaw stated more than asked, her voice weak and shaky.
Root touched her calf lightly, stroking her leg in slow, soothing motions. "Everything will be okay, Sameen. I promise."