Hearts, minds and bodies.
Root had decided not long after getting caught by Control that Harold was a foolish and naive man. With the proof of what was sure to come, Harold still held fast to his morality. Requiring that the Machine’s assets abide by rules not afforded to the enemy. Knowing full well that Decima agents are not aiming for kneecaps, they are not shooting rubber bullets; they are playing for keeps, to Roots way of thinking, a dead Decima agent is an agent that won’t recover to shoot you at a later date.
The frustration and anger Root felt was because the hand writing was on the wall. Forecasts of the things to come time and time again were made known and yet Harold was either was in complete denial or was off living on another planet. How many times had they been provided with the information to at the very least cripple Samaritan? How many times did Harold make the wrong choice based on some misguided morality? Countless times in Root’s opinion. Killing the congressman might have been a little extreme but only in that a congressman is easily replaced and it would have been pointless as it would only hold off the inevitable for so long. If killing the congressman would have ended Samaritan, Root would have gladly pulled the trigger herself.
With all things said and done, Root knows she has lost her way. She no longer feels the need to abide by the constraints placed by Harold and she also knows this may be her undoing. Somewhere in between losing Shaw and the dire future being played out in real time, Root’s understanding of reality shifted a little to the left. There was now a twist at the end of every sentence, a slight deviation in her usual response to things around her. Yesterday being a good example; she could have easily incapacitated the number and called it a day but there was that new flaw, allowing her to ignore the rules. When faced with the options, she chose the one that would likely ease that ache in her heart. She wanted that man dead and so that’s what she did........she killed him, for no other reason but to try and sooth an old pain.
Up until she lost Shaw to the Decima agents, Root was clear on the objectives placed by the Machine. She didn’t question why she was being asked to do something, she just did it and she did it gladly. After that fateful day things got blurry. Once the shock of seeing Shaw shot and presumably dead had worn off, Root was filled with a hate and rage so thick it was all she could do to breathe or swallow. Her self guided mission from that point on was to kill as many of her enemy as possible; but only after they been questioned in her own special way. Going on the belief that it would take whole lot more than mere bullets to take Shaw down, Root got out the proverbial blow torch and began burning the city down to find her. Root only stopped when her body would carry her no further or when the injuries were too great to ignore. Harold and John had stopped trying to stifle her anger and finally decided she was better as the devil you know and it was wise to stay out of her way. Only when Root’s erratic behavior threatened civilians did Reese and Harold step in and intervene.
When Shaw’s location was determined, Root cut a swath of blood and brains through the entire Decima compound. Anybody that came between her and Shaw was cut down without mercy. Reese, though willing to do whatever it took to get Shaw back still tried the whole shoot them in the kneecap thing until he noticed that Root was quickly dispatching his victims in a more permanent fashion as she walked behind him. Due to the multitude of enemy agents that would see them both dead, Reese simply gave up the argument and grudgingly started taking kill shots of his own.
Finally with the door to Shaw’s cell found and breached, Root collapsed like she had just ran a marathon and Shaw was her finish line. Never had she felt such relief and the sorrow of the last many months crashed down upon her. It was hard to say at that point who was in worse shape, her or Shaw. Shaw had been tortured in unimaginable ways and her injuries were many. The injuries that Root carried, aside from the gunshot wounds and knife slashes were deep inside of her.
Shaw, ever the good soldier slurred out an order for Root to release her but beyond that she was fairly incoherent and it wasn’t until she was safely away did she allow herself a relieved sigh. For that matter, there was a collective sigh of relief from all four of them once they knew they were out of harms way. It would take time to heal the body but their wounded souls might never recover. Neither Shaw or Root were real big into introspection but they knew they were miles from where they had left off at the elevator. Even the promise of the kiss would have to wait until hearts, minds and bodies healed.