All Hands On Deck

Finch was busy typing away at his elaborate workstation in the subway lair when Root sauntered in wearing skimpy shorts, kneepads, elbow guards, and carrying a helmet. Reese didn’t bother looking up from cleaning his guns on a nearby table. Bear briefly looked up and then went back to lounging in his bed with a new massive chew toy from his not so secret admirer stalker.

Root winced when she sat down on the bench to take off the kneepads and elbow guards, revealing several bruises and scrapes. She had hoped Shaw would be there to play doctor; sadly, she didn’t spot her favorite grumpy hottie primary asset. Finch looked up with a mildly surprised look on his face, even though Root changed identities like tissue paper, he was still in awe at her chameleon-like quality to look like so many different people.

“I’m in a roller derby league this week. Our number was targeted because, in her day job, she works at a high-level biotech lab that Samaritan wants access to,” she continued to pull off the rest of her gear. “Too bad Shaw isn’t working this number, she would be such a natural at roller derby.”

“Hey, nerd, what makes you think I’m not in a league,” Shaw’s voice came through Finch, Reese and Root’s respective earpieces; probably Fusco too, as he was out in the field doing his detective work but on number help standby.

Root couldn’t help the huge smile that spread across her face.

“Hey, sweetie, which team are you on? I’m on the Perky Psychos. Maybe our teams will have a match, I’ll get to use my beaver-cleaver move on you,” Root smiled one of her most seductive smiles even though she knew Shaw couldn’t see it. Root did hear a pretty epic volatile sounding exhale of air, with a very prolonged sigh. And she knew it had to be accompanied by a massive eye roll by her favorite primary asset.

Harold looked aghast and turned back to his computer screen and spoke before Shaw had time for a rebuttal.

“Ms. Shaw, are you almost done with the current number?” asked Finch in hopes of stopping any further double entrendres from Ms. Groves.

“Threat isolated and removed. The number is safe and secure. You owe me a steak for record time,” the smirk on Shaw’s face could be heard, she sounded pretty pleased with herself. “Do we already have a new number?”

“Yes, there are 12 new numbers to be exact,” Harold was busying, typing away again.

“12? At the same time?” asked Reese, looking up from cleaning one of his guns.

“Yes, and thankfully they are all at the same location,” Finch continued to type and scan his multiple computer screens. “Of course, all 12 being at the same location means it’s a bigger threat with more potential for innocent people getting hurt.”

“Yet it does cut down on commute time,” said Root as she stood up and walked over to Finch’s desk to stare over his shoulder.

“Yes, however, there is substantial commute time as the 12 numbers are all located at a remote resort. They are attending a very highly sensitive conference concerning global climate change and nuclear energy.” Finch looked over to Reese then Root. “All 12 numbers are scientists, and my guess is that Samaritan wants to shut down any findings the scientists might reveal to the public.” Finch had a look of concern on his face.

“We all know we’re doomed; what else is there for the public to know?” Shaw deadpanned.

“Way to look on the bright side, sweetie,” said Root smirked while looking at the details of the mission over Finch’s shoulders much to his discomfort.

“Ms. Shaw, there is a difference in knowing, and then there is knowing that if we give up certain amenities, we could sustain life for a much longer period of time. Maybe even reverse some of the impending outcome,” replied Finch with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Amenities…such as…” Shaw asked.

“Sorry, Sam, but one of them would be steak,” Root answered before Finch, he nodded in agreement.

“I think world doom might be more enjoyable than vegan Shaw,” Reese grimaced and shrugged.

“I would almost be inclined to agree with you Mr. Reese if it didn’t mean world decimation,” said Finch with his eyebrows raised.

“Look at that, Sam, the world is going to end so you can have a steak,” said Root.

Before Shaw had time to say anything, Finch piped in, “I have just finished your covers,” turning to find Root staring a little too intensely at his screens. “There is a very exclusive couples retreat going on at the same time as the conference, the only two events at the resort.”

Before Finch can explain the covers, Reese suggests an idea.

“I can be a bellhop again, that worked that one time,” Reese said while looking at Finch. “At the resort.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Reese, however, you are needed a more flexible cover this time. You’ll be attending the couples retreat with Ms. Groves posing as your wife.”

Reese looked up to Finch with mild surprise on his face.

“Can I least check and see if Zoe is available?” asked Reese staring at Finch.

Root tilted her head and added a mild glare aimed at Reese.

“She’s not, she’s out of the country at the moment working as a peace liaison between several hostile political groups in very remote locations herself,” Finch relayed the information while gathering up some papers on his desk. “And before you protest or offer up different pairings Ms. Groves, this one was the most believable.”

Root shrugged, she knew that Harry knew she would have suggested her and Shaw as a couple in need of therapy. A girl can always dream of more alone time with her crush, especially if it also includes a remote resort and intense therapy.

“Well, then John, should we start working on our pet nicknames for each other?” said Root with a big smirk. “I love the old favorites, big lug, helper monkey, or lurch.”

Suddenly, Fusco chimed in on the communications link, “Reese, I’ve got lots of suggestions for her. Coca puffs, Froot Loops, Banana Nut Crunch…” you could tell by his voice his list could go on and on. Reese tried to hide a small smile.

“Lionel, are all your nicknames for me cereal related?” asked Root with a hint of sarcasm waiting for his kickback.

“Glad you could join us, Mr. Fusco,” said Finch, “We will require your services as well on this mission. This is, as they say, an all hands on deck type of situation.”

“So Harry, you haven’t said where we are headed?” asked Root with a mischievous glint in her eyes; obviously, she already knew the location, she just wanted to hear the reaction of her teammates.

“The conference is located in a remote resort on the outskirts of Maui,” said Finch.

“Finch, are you taking us all on vacation? Because then I’m in, remember I said many times before you looked like you could use some sun. And I need some surf and turf.” Shaw busted in again.

Shaw was thinking to herself how she really wanted to see Reese and Root pretend to be married. Reese had a very similar beginning with Root as Shaw did with lying and the almost getting dead part, minus the hot iron incident. The iron was just for Shaw and for some reason the thought tugged at her stomach, which she hoped just meant she was hungry.

“I will hang at the beach, get some fun in the sun and then swoop in at the end to kick some righteous ass.” Shaw’s grin could be heard through the earpieces loud and clear.

“Sorry, Ms. Shaw, but with such a high number count and all of them being world-renowned scientists, they are all relevant. You will also be attending the couples retreat along with Mr. Reese and Ms. Groves taking place at the resort.”

“No offense Finch, I don’t think you and I are going to make the most believable couple,” it almost sounded as if Shaw snorted while saying the last part.

“No, we would not. I think you and Lionel could illustrate a couple of yearning for some referring and therapy far better than a pairing between us,” said Finch with his eyebrows raised.

“I’m married to Fusco? In what distorted parallel universe? Why can’t Root be married to Fusco?”

“Hey, you’re not my first choice either shorty. Geesh, being married to you, I might start drinking again,” Fusco said through the communications link.

“We’ll have to go on a double date while at the resort,” said Root smiling at Reese. “It will be so much fun catching up with the Fuscos.” While Reese winced, Root continued to smile and Finch began explaining more details for the mission with a concerned look on his face.

*******

Root and Reese arrived in a cab first to the resort. They waltzed through the grand entrance with bellhops behind them pushing their multiple suitcases on a hotel luggage cart. As soon as the retreat’s organizer spotted them, she descended upon them in the lobby.

“Hello, I’m Joan Williams, the executive assistant to Ms. Tinswell,” Joan had a huge welcoming smile and looked down at her clipboard. “You two fit your profiles so perfectly. Just so…so very perfect.” Joan’s eyes raked over both of them many times; she acted as if she was star struck by the tall, handsome pair who wear both impeccably dressed. Reese, in one of his nice suits, Root in a fashionable dress.

“Lydia Tinswell is the therapist running the retreat,” Finch informed them all through their earpieces. “She’s a pretty well-known therapist, with several best selling self-help books as well.”

“Can someone shoot me in the kneecaps so I can go home,” Shaw said through the communications link as soon as Harold finished speaking. “I can’t believe you made us dress like this, Finch,” huffed Shaw.

John smiled his trademark charming smile at Joan, “I’m John Brooke, this is my wife Samantha,” he gestured to Root, who also put on her most charming smile.

“You can call me Sam,” she told Joan, and Root thought she caught a severe look of irritation from Shaw’s face who just now entered the lobby along with Fusco. Root couldn’t help hide her amused smile when she saw both of them walking towards them. They looked kind of adorable, in a very grumpy old odd married couple way.

Joan continued to stare at Reese and Root a little too long for a comfortable moment, “You two look like a model couple or movie stars! Straight from a runway or a catalog. Both so tall and so beautiful.” She looked Root and Reese over all over again while putting her hand on each of their arms. “Please tell me you have five kids. Don’t want those genes going to waste.”

Root and Reese both smiled at Joan and faked a little laugh.

“Well, actually, that’s one of her issues Joan,” Root said pretty casually for a first greeting.

Joan nodded and then glanced at Shaw and Fusco. Both wearing more casual clothes, instructed by Finch to dress down, which Shaw didn’t have a problem with, Fusco, however, looked a little out of place without his tired suit and tie. A tracksuit did nothing to improve Fusco’s appearance thought Shaw; if anything, it just made Lionel look like a cheap mobster from Atlantic City or a possible extra from The Sopranos.

Since Finch pointed out if Shaw wore her usual go to black tank top and pants that she would clash so loudly with Lionel, he instructed her also to wear a tracksuit. Shaw drew the line at matching tracksuits. And she looked like a grumpy little pill in a slim fitting track suit. Root had a hard time keeping her eyes off Shaw.

“And you two are…just so…coordinated?” said Joan, not even hiding the condescending tone of her voice.

Shaw felt like she could stab the woman if only she were wearing stiletto heels; she did not appreciate the woman’s less than admirable comparison to Reese and Root. What she thought, just because they were shorter and were wearing tracksuits, they weren’t as good as Reese and Root. Shaw tried to keep her seething at the retreat woman under control. So even if Fusco wasn’t up to John’s standards in appearance, she more than made up for both of them.

“You must be Lionel and…Sam. Another Sam?” Joan smiled tentatively at Fusco and Shaw, who seemed to have plastic smiles on their faces.

“She goes by Sammy,” Fusco smiled at Joan and put his arm around Shaw’s waist, which pulled her tightly against his chest.

Shaw flinched so hard Root thought Shaw was going to put her elbow through Fusco’s stomach. So Root reached out to grab Shaw’s arm for a handshake.

“How nice to meet another Sam,” Root leaned over to shake Shaw’s hand, which was not outstretched, so she patted her arm while still holding onto it a little too forcibly to keep Shaw from hitting her or Fusco or possibly Joan.

Joan handed out the room keys and told them the first session would be a group session starting in an hour, then followed by a private session with each couple.

“Sounds great, gives me and Sammy some time to freshen up,” Lionel smacked Shaw’s butt, “Let’s go babycakes.”

Shaw’s eye popped wide, and if they hadn’t been undercover, Fusco no doubt would have lost a finger or possibly his whole hand. Even Reese and Root both had raised eyebrows at Fusco’s boldness and willingness to throw himself into his married undercover persona to such degree that he was already putting himself in mortal danger by smacking Shaw’s bottom. Root almost admired Fusco’s bravado, except she knew Shaw’s payback wasn’t going to be pleasant for the detective.

“Sure thing…papa bear,” Shaw growled out while she turned and headed towards the elevators fuming. Root could almost swear there was steam billowing out from Shaw’s ears.

*****

As soon as Shaw and Fusco walked into their room, the door was slammed shut. Shaw jammed her elbow into Fusco’s gut so fierce; he doubled over and was left breathless. Shaw kept walking into the room.

“No touching, no nicknames,” as Shaw huffed into the room, looking around quickly to check for square footage.

“What are you, a lap dancer?” Fusco couldn’t help the joke since he felt like his stomach had been knocked out his backside.

Shaw glared at him so coldly, he raised his hands in a give up gesture, still regaining his breath and wincing in pain.

Shaw groaned while taking a look around their room, for a swanky resort, it was nice just not big enough to hold her and Fusco together. The biggest complaint was that there was only one bed. Thankfully there was a large couch in a sunken living room. Of course, the sunken part meant they were in one large room. No, this would not work at all. She did not care to know the sleeping and grooming habits of one Detective Fusco.

“I call dibs on the bed,” Shaw said very quickly, to a pained groan response from Fusco.

“You know I got a bad back, and I’ve got seniority,” Fusco said, “So I get the bed.”

“What about ladies first?” Even as Shaw said this, she regretted pulling the ‘girl’ card; she just really wanted the bed.

“What lady? You’re more compact than me, I can’t fit on the couch,” Fusco said while finally straightening out his back still in pain from Shaw’s gut punch.

“How many nights do we have to stay here?” asked Shaw. “I’m guessing it depends on how fast we can figure out how someone is going to kill 12 people at one time.”

“Isn’t pretty obvious…” then Fusco made an explosion noise with his lips.

Shaw just nodded in a yeah, yeah gesture.

Even though they were in a beautiful setting on a resort, this mission could end up feeling the longest if Shaw had to share a room for more than two nights with Fusco. She almost wished she was sharing with Root, but then thought Reese was a way better choice; he was probably a tidy, quiet roommate. They could be good roomies; they could sit in comfortable silence and clean their guns. Although, Root does smell better than Reese, so that was a plus she had going for her in Shaw’s roommate book. Now that she noticed how Root smelled all the time or cared. She did wonder how they were handling their room situation. She smiled; she was pretty sure Root would be pushed to the couch, even though Reese was a gentleman, he did need his beauty sleep.

******

Shaw and Fusco headed down to the room where the first group therapy session was being held. Reese and Root were already there, talking to another couple. They somehow managed to change into even more flattering outfits.

Shaw inwardly groaned as she looked at Root and Reese; they kind of did look like a model couple. Where did they get their resort looking outfits, it was kind of weird to see Reese in casual attire. There were five couples total in the room. The other three couples varied in ages. There was one couple that looked in their 20s, one middle-aged and one older one.

Everyone awaited the arrival of Dr. Tinswell.

Shaw kept scanning the room while getting closer to Reese and Root, only half-listening to the ongoing conversations around the room. But then Root’s voice caught her attention, and damn not like a Pavlov dog, she responded without thinking.

“Hey, sweetie,” Root said, already putting her cup in Reese’s hand much to his grimace. “Could you hold my coffee please,” Root looked at John, but she got an unexpected response.

“Not now, Root,” said Shaw quietly for only Root to hear; she looked for the table with snacks that Joan promised would be available. “I’m looking for the snacks.”

“Actually, I was talking to my husband John,” Root leaned in very close to Shaw and whispered into her ear. “It’s good to know you’re my sweetie too.”

Shaw could smell the smell that she had not been thinking about, the one she associated with the tall brunette. The smell seemed a mixture of shampoo, some exotic perfume, and just pure Root. It was a smell her brain had mesmerized for the sole purpose of preventing close encounters with the hacker, and nothing else; that is what she kept telling herself. She could feel Root’s breathing on her cheek. Root’s smirk was so big, Shaw wanted to knock it from her face like the good old days, but didn’t think slugging someone at a therapy session was a good idea for her cover. And she was more concerned it would lead to more therapy sans snacks.

Before Shaw could get some snacks, Dr. Lydia Tinswell entered the room and greeted everyone. She appeared to be a cross between Dr. Joyce Brothers and Oprah, with a little Dr. Phil mixed in. She instructed them to sit in a circle when Root passed by Shaw she discreetly put a protein bar in her hand. Shaw gave her an annoyed look, then couldn’t stop a smirk popping up. Root noticed, so then Shaw had to roll her eyes on purpose to discourage the prepared hacker.

All the couples were seated in a large circle, and they were instructed not to speak to each other. Dr. Tinswell explained they were going to do breathing exercises for the next 60 minutes. Shaw gave out three hard coughs that were strategically planned and spaced out so she could open the protein bar before the silence started. Root smiled while watching the dark-haired beauty in a rather demure tracksuit. Reese kept surveying the room. Fusco tried to find a comfortable position in his chair.

The sixty minutes doing breathing exercises with no talking proved to be very challenging sixty minutes to four certain individuals, well really only three as one fell asleep and started snoring at the 12-minute mark. Shaw poked Fusco several times to keep waking him up while also discreetly chewing her protein bar. Finch did ease some of the pain by broadcasting a football game for Reese and Shaw through their earpieces. Root said she was okay; The Machine was whispering all the background information for all the scientists at the convention.

The three teammates kept exchanging glances whenever Tinswell looked at the other three couples. Shaw was very aware even though they were told to close their eyes, every time she opened her eyes, Root was staring at her. How did she keep doing that? Surely, she wasn’t staring at her the whole time.

Root knew that her staring was unnerving the compact Persian, so she couldn’t help but do it more. Once she found out certain things annoyed the gorgeous dark-haired asset, she couldn’t help herself from repeating them over and over, always in hopes of getting a rise out of the woman.

She had only recently admitted to herself that she might be completely smitten by the shorter woman since the day they first met. At first it was just to irritate her teammate and then as time passed, with several joint missions together, finding out they work really well together that things had changed. The notion of irritating Shaw for fun turned into irritating Shaw to get some kind of attention from her. Or some form of interaction, however fun, was still pretty significant. In some ways they were very similar to each other, hence the great teammate aspect; yet in others there were vast differences between them like an endless abyss. Root knew she had never met anyone in her life that she wanted to cross an endless abyss for, and admitting to herself that she would for Shaw scared her sometimes.

Especially since Shaw didn’t seem to like her very much at times, she wasn’t so much admitting defeat on the Shaw front; she just painfully realized that she just wanted her only other female teammate to be in her life in some aspect. And if that meant just as friends, she would eventually, hopefully, learn to accept and respect the course of action.

Then again, Root never went down without an epic fight, so she still had a few ideas on the Shaw front. And there were some very slight glimpses that Shaw did care for her, even deep enough to save her ass a few times. Root realized she had been zoning out on listening to The Machine, she straightened up in her chair and concentrated. The Machine had sensed her mind wandering; it started repeating the same information. She opened her eyes briefly and noticed this time Shaw was watching her, although the staring was quickly averted when noticed, which caused Root to have a genuine smile as she lowered her head so nobody would see.