The air in the room was heavy and all she could do was look up at the ceiling. In the far off distance she could hear the "D" train pass by and only a faint sliver of light leaked through the window blinds but other than that the room was silent and steeped in darkness. The body next to her is only a few inches away but given the tension that hung in the air, a few inches may as well had been a chasm. She felt the shifting of weight next to and some knotted, unwanted thing took up residence in her stomach. None of this was going to end well.

The room reeked of sex and regret. She was still overwhelmed by urges that she still didn't quite understand and by default the anger she carried around with her at all times began to boil from a smolder into a slow simmering burn. She closed her eyes in hopes of shutting it all out, willing silence to fill the white noise that surrounded her.

Sameen Shaw was good at a great number of things but whatever this was, she was failing at it in spectacular fashion. As she lay rigid and prone on a bed that was hers and yet not hers, she tried to recall how this all began. Memories flit in and out behind the black lids of eyes that were already far too dark. Visions of zip-ties, tasers, guns and blood were interspersed with smiles that slid too easily from playful to predatory and eyes that cut from shiny too hooded darkness. All were things that always left Sameen wanting. One fateful night hooded eyes made of burnt amber and lips dipped in sin, set off a chain of events that led up to this very moment. Sameen finally realized that every time they engaged in this dance, not only did she lose a piece of her soul, she was also taking a piece of hers.

The air grew thinner around Sameen and she felt like she was suffocating. An unbidden memory of a little girl pinned underneath a ton of twisted metal while her father laid there dying next to her flashed before her and she felt a dull ache in her chest. Since then, Sameen had taken to cataloging physical responses to outside stimulus in order to try to define emotions for which she had no reference and the woman sitting on the edge of the bed that was hers and yet not hers, had her own section in the archives of that database.

She finally forced herself to open her eyes and dared to cast a look at the woman, simply known as Root. She watched as Root sat on the edge of the bed clasping her black, lace bra back into place. Sameen could barely make out the angry, red streaks across her back; the physical evidence of her was etched in creamy, pale skin that bruised far too easily, flesh that bled far too quickly. It was physical proof of Sameen's savage selfishness. There wasn't anything more left than the pieces of two souls that had been shredded and discarded only to be replaced by this terrible, nameless thing choking the life out of her.

Sameen searched her emotional database in hopes that it would help her make some sense of what was happening in that room at that very moment. She tried to recall every moment she and Root occupied the same space since the very first time their paths crossed and what physical reactions she had with respect to said events.

The remembrance of a hotel room and a woman named "Veronica" immediately came to mind. "Veronica" was a government agent who was suppose to help her figure out why the people she was working for were trying to kill her. And "Veronica" seemed nice enough in that mousy but sort of sexy in that uptight secretary kind of way. Then suddenly it turns out that "Veronica" wasn't "Veronica" at all, but an unknown hostile with a predilection for zip-ties, tasers, and a hot iron. The memory elicited an involuntary smile, which seemed to be happening a lot lately with regard to the woman in question and again that thing threatening to swallow her whole lurched in her chest.

It took a long time for Sameen to admit she wasn't pissed about the fact that Root tased and trussed her up to a chair, ripe for the picking by Wilson's men. She wasn't even pissed about the whole iron to the face thing. In their line of work that was what one would call an occupational hazard and professional courtesy dictated that such things were understood because it was all part of the game. And keeping in the same line of self-honesty, Sameen had to also admit that she was more than a little turned on by the whole thing. No, that wasn't what pissed Sameen off. What pissed her off was the fact that Root had been able to fool her and how easy she was able to do it. She took that very personally and in retrospect everything that happened between them was a direct result of that affront. She took a great deal of pride in being able to read people and see straight through their bullshit and yet Root was able to play her for a fool and that wasn't just something she couldn't allow. Root bruised her ego and the knowledge of that was a pain far more brutal than any iron to the face could ever possibly inflict. There was no way in hell she was going to let her get away with it. Her ego demanded its pound of flesh and she did everything possibly to deliver it.

Their first encounter was the first time Sameen took note of an automatic response to an outside stimulus that was Root related and as time passed, more information was gathered and added more fodder for the databank. When it came to Root, she found that anger, frustration, annoyance, resentment, intrigue and desire were all individual emotions that she felt independently of each other. Yet, somehow they also intermingled with one another, creating something completely different that was an amalgam of them all. She didn't have a word or reference for it but it was the thing that was currently crushing her chest, and sucking the very life from her.

Sameen continued to watch the woman on the other side of the room. Watched her as she made her escape from this limbo that imprisoned them. Root flipped her hair over shoulder as she buttoned up her blouse. Sameen regarded her and thought about how her hands were tangled in silky, russet tresses only minutes ago. The thought triggered a twinge inside of her and her breathing grew a little jagged. The boiling simmer of her previous anger became a different source of heat. Something wasn't right and for the life of her she couldn't figure out what it was. It was like that infuriating feeling you got when you heard a few bars of a song you once heard but couldn't remember the name of it.

Everything was all twisted and distorted to the point that she couldn't tell up from down and the source of that confusion and frustration was about to walk out of that door, leaving her to deal with the aftermath of whatever this was. Sameen wondered how she got into this mess in the first place and like the woman about to walk out of the door, the answer to that question eluded her as well.

That's when the little voice spoke to her, the one that warned her that she was being played…again. After all, wasn't it sweet little "Veronica" who played her for a fool? Wasn't Root's stock and trade illusions wrapped in deceit? How can someone who slipped in and out of personalities and shed personas the way snakes shed skin possibly be trusted with anything or anyone? And what was Root but an enigma. She wondered if any part of her was real at all because you only saw of her was whatever someone else had already projected onto her. She became what people expected her to be and that's what made her such an effective liar. It made Sameen wonder what exactly did she project onto Root that created whatever this was.

The paranoia and the airlessness of the room was getting to Sameen causing her to shake her head as if it would magically clear the fog she had been under for the past several minutes. She felt something that could best be described as desperation as she watched Root hitch her pants over her hips. She was fairly certain that she was covering up more evidence of her savagery, having earlier seen the imprint of her fingers just above Root's hipbone.

She didn't remember crossing the room or the amount of force used as she firmly placed the palm of her hand against the door, barring the other woman from leaving. Root didn't so much as flinch as they both stood there silently. Neither moved, each fighting their own internal battle. Fight or flight.

Sameen saw Roots shoulders tense up and on impulse she brought up both arms to encircle around the taller woman's waist, pulling her back and flush against her own body. The height difference caused Sameen's cheek to press ever so slightly against Root's right shoulder blade and she could hear the rapid beating of the other woman's heart. It was strong and rhythmic and…soothing. It was in that moment she decided to give in to impulse and surrendered to that unnamed and unwanted thing burrowed in her own breast that was just as strong as the sound she was listening to.

She felt the touch of strong fingers covering her own as they brought themselves upward. A kiss was placed upon her knuckles and the touch burned her in the way cold things burn hot. A shiver went down her spine. Another entry for the database to be filed under "Root."

The contact was enough to get Sameen to act on impulse again as she turned Root around and dared herself to look into questioning yet hopeful eyes. Sameen simply nodded and was rewarded with the softest, slowest, most exquisite kiss ever placed upon her lips. Another shiver went through her body and it made her wonder just how many new entries there would be by the end of this night.

The sex that she and Root normally engaged in was raw and primal, devoid of any form of sentiment or consideration of feelings. It was base and in some instances, down right barbaric. It was all want, take, and have with them and in some insane way, it worked. Root allowed her the kind of release that no one ever could, simply because she indulged Sameen's every desire no matter how dark or depraved. She suspected it was probably due to the fact that Root, herself, had a darkness inside of her as well. And it's in that darkness that they found a common ground that had allowed them to understand one another in ways that others couldn't…wouldn't.

She wasn't quite sure what she wanted to do but she knew enough to know that it had to be the exact opposite of what she had done this entire time. She knew it had to be different than before because this was different than before. She thought of Harold's metaphor about hammers and scalpels and figured this was probably the best application for that analogy. Whatever was happening in this very moment, it was delicate and fragile and it to be approached lightly. Whatever was about to happen between them was going to be radically different from everything they had done before.

She thought about the kiss that Root planted on her lips and she figured that was the best place to start so she leaned up and pressed her lips against Root's once more and tried to resist the impulse to rush and tear flesh with her teeth…to claw and mark her territory. The languid movement of their lips gave Sameen time to process what sensations she was experiencing. She took note of how Root's lips tasted as well as the texture of the skin there. She noticed that if she slighted sucked on Root's tongue, she would give a low growl and smile against her lips. Taking things at a slower pace brought with it a plethora of new things she would have never have otherwise known or experienced.

Sameen was entering new territory with Root and together, they tried to navigate unfamiliar terrain as they eased themselves back toward the bed that was hers and yet not hers. She relieved Root of her bra and pants once again, then cupping small yet full breasts, kneading them…creating as much tactile contact as she could muster. It was as if she needed physical confirmation that a being such as Root did in fact exist. In some inexplicable way, she needed Root to exist. She needed to know Root was real.

As every movement on both their parts became less frenzied and more exact…focused, a dialogue of sorts began. They wordlessly explored each another at a leisurely pace and reveled in every nuance of their discovery of one another until each of them reached the precipice…the brink. For Sameen it was like holding off a torrent that threatened to loosen the dam that separated her from the rest of the world. She knew that once it broke it would sweep her away. And with each thrust the waters swelled and it brought them closer and closer to the edge of oblivion.

They held on to each other for dear life and in an instant, the dam burst and everything they held on to came gushing out in a baptism of pure, unadulterated, ecstasy. Sameen fell limp and spent atop a body, lithe and strong and that as of now belong to her and her alone. Her body pulsated with an energy that invigorated her in a way she hadn't thought possible. It is in that fleeting moment that everything became clear to her as she gazed into shiny, ocher eyes. Again she placed a feather light kiss upon supple lips and for the first time in Sameen Shaw's life she understood what it meant to love and be loved.