This is it, everybody! The last chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing and just generally putting up with my posts being wildly unreliable!

I'm sorry it took so long. It's extremely hard to make sure you're covering all of your bases in ending a story that's this long. I hope you're all satisfied by this! If you're not, I'm sorry about that too? :P

I do have a couple short stories partially written that I'd like to share with you all soon, so hopefully despite the show ending you'll stick around for a bit.

Shaw looked out across the park. It took her a minute to spot the figure she was searching for. He was sitting alone, a brown paper bag in one of his hands. She approached through the sparse population of dog walkers, runners, tourists, suits eating their lunches. Without a word, she sat down on the bench half an arms length from him, careful not to sit so close that they were touching. It wasn't easy deciding what to say, so she followed his gaze out across the grass, where spring flowers dotted the landscape and mothers carried their children's unneeded coats. In their midst, a woman with red hair was painting a picture of the pond below. Grace Hendricks. Finch's fiancée.

"Didn't know she was back in the city," Shaw said finally, giving her seat-mate a sidelong look. He looked awful. Worse than the last time she'd seen him. She wondered if he'd slept. He definitely hadn't shaved, his rumpled brown jacket was borderline grungy, and the paper bag clenched in his fist was shaped suspiciously like a bottle.

Her seat-mate's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed. It wasn't enough to hide the moisture there. With an apologetic shake of her head, she asked, "John. Why're you watching Grace?"

He lifted the disguised bottle and took a swig before replying.

"I thought it would make me feel… closer to him," the reply came slowly, his voice low and dark. Something stirred in Shaw. She felt empathy for Reese, she realized, and wished simultaneously that the feelings would go away and that she could somehow comfort John.

"How'd you find me?" he mumbled, glancing over at her without turning. Shaw tapped her ear and his eyebrows raised in dismay. "Thought you didn't like having the Machine in your ear."

"I don't," she told him, pursing her lips. "But nobody's seen you. And you weren't at your apartment or answering your phone."

He turned back towards Grace. Shaw regretted how terse her words were, and leaned forward a touch to try to see his face better. She could see that he was looking her direction out of the corner of his narrowed eyes, and the paper bag crinkled between his fingers.

"You figured that was an invitation to hunt me down?" Reese asked, turning toward her again, returning her irritation. Shaw hated the way that grief made him look. Older. Defeated. She glanced at her hands, then out across the park towards the red-haired woman so that she didn't have to be confronted by his expression. When she finally made herself look back at John, he had followed her gaze, and was watching Grace almost longingly.

"You can't talk to her," Shaw said quietly. Apologetic.

John was very still.

"She already lost Harold once," she continued, shaking her head. He wouldn't look over at her, but she could see his eyes shining, and she did her best to sound gentle. "She doesn't need to lose him again."

John's head quickly dipped forward, his face scrunching up as he sniffed hard, his mouth a grimace. Shaw was surprised by the sudden, strong urge to reach out to him, but tugged at the edge of the padding of her cast instead.

"I feel…" he started. Slowly he glanced Shaw's direction, then looked back out at Finch's one-time fiancée, giving a minute shake of his head. "Helpless. Lonely."

Shaw knew what she wanted to say, to say, but was having trouble getting the words to form. So she focused on her hands again, pulling loose a thread from the interior layer of the cast. She dropped the piece of string between her knees, summoned all of her strength and courage, then cleared her throat.

"Me too," she admitted. She could sense his entire body going rigid and forced herself to look to her right, absorbing his expression. His lips were pressed together so tightly that they were white, and his eyes were full to the brim with tears. He blinked to try to clear them, then rubbed at them with the thumb and pointer finger of his empty hand. He coughed, and Sameen could tell he was trying his hardest not to let a sob escape. She ground her teeth as she felt the burn of tears in her own eyes, then willed herself to reach out and rest her good hand on his forearm.

The action was stiff. Robotic.

Her voice, on the other hand, was reassuring and calm when she spoke, and it sounded odd to her own ears.

"But… we're not alone." She watched him look at her hand, then at his own, holding the bottle tight.

He seemed like he had suddenly realized where he was and what he was doing. When he looked up, they accidentally made eye contact and quickly looked away from one another, out across the park. She removed her hand from his arm. In that brief moment, he had looked grateful.

"And we're definitely not helpless," she continued, her usual sarcasm returned.

When she surreptitiously glanced his way again, she saw that he was smiling a little. Not much, but enough to give her a sense of relief. He was still Reese. And she was still Shaw.

She stood.

"C'mon," she said, turning away from him like she was going to walk away whether he decided to join her or not.

"Where're we going?" He murmured.

"Your place," she told him, as if it was a stupid question. "You're gonna take a shower and then we're gonna get Fusco to bring us some lunch. I haven't eaten all day."

He stood up and when Shaw caught him swaying out of the corner of her eye, she turned to watch him find his balance. John looked like he might be sick, swallowing hard and pressing his eyes shut. Shaw wondered how much he'd had to drink. He pulled at his sleeve so he could see his wristwatch.

"It's not even 11am," he said, bemused that she was qualifying that as having gone 'all day' without food.

"Yeah, and you're already trashed," she said quietly, annoyed. She was glad that it didn't seem like he'd heard.

He found his footing and lifted the bottle to his mouth. When he lowered it again, she put her hand out towards him, and when he looked confused, she nodded at the paper bag. He handed it over and she took a swig. Vodka hit her tongue, warm and bitter. Silently, he extended a hand for her to give it back. Instead of returning it, she tossed it into a trash can.

"Careful, Shaw. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were worried about me," Reese teased, but there was a little menace in his stare. Shaw cocked an eyebrow, looking up at him challengingly.

"Well, John, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you need someone worrying about you. Because the whole 'getting drunk in the park' thing? It's pretty pathetic, and it's not happening again," she replied. If he was going to be snide, she could throw it right back. But even Shaw knew that she had spoken with unnecessary bite.

He was annoyed with her, and started to walk off, leaving her to follow him. She rolled her eyes at his back, feeling embarrassed that she couldn't have a five minute conversation without losing her temper and saying something mean. Plus, she knew why he was having a hard time. She matched his steps, slowed by the alcohol in his system.

"Look. I get it," she said. He pointedly ignored her. "If it wasn't for Root…"

She hesitated. If it wasn't for Root, she would be lucky if she was there with John, getting wasted, instead of starting fist fights or worse with strangers in bars. But she didn't want to give him any ideas, so she didn't say any of that. Instead, she pushed on, wincing.

"A friend of mine told me something once. Something I didn't know I needed to hear," she said, eyes narrowing to hide how out of her element she felt. She could feel him looking towards her, but she kept her eyes on the pedestrians ahead of her as she walked. "Said that… with our jobs, we walk in the dark."

She looked his way in time to watch John's eyes drop from her face as she paraphrased the words that he had once told her.

"But… that doesn't mean we have to walk alone," she finished, shaking her head. She watched his jaw flex, and his Adam's apple bobbed.

"Thought you didn't have friends. As a rule," John joked, clearing his throat to get rid of the slight wobble in his voice, like he was barely stopping himself from crying. Shaw had to admit that she appreciated his avoiding being particularly touchy-feely about the whole thing. The smile on her face was smug.

"That's true," she said, a smirk in her voice. Then, conspiratorially, she leaned his direction. "But we both know that rules are made to be broken."

They walked in silence for a while, and for once, Shaw didn't mind that the person she was walking with was slow, practically strolling along the streets of New York. For once, they didn't need to hurry. There was no one to hunt for or run from.

When they neared his building, he paused and looked into the liquor store a block from his place. Shaw kept walking, and he quickly caught up, shoving his empty hands into his pockets glumly.

"How's she doing?" John asked softly. He didn't need to say who he meant. Shaw knew he was asking about Root, and that he was giving Shaw an opening to talk about herself if she wanted to. At any other time, it would've been an overly personal question and Shaw would've snorted a laugh at him condescendingly. But not today.

"She uh… she's taking it hard," Shaw told him. He looked at her, sympathetic and curious. They'd reached the door of his building, and he fumbled with his keys. The door unlatched and he swung it open so that Shaw was looking in at the entryway to his building for the second time that day. He started up the stairs, and she took the opportunity to speak while he had his back turned. "She says she loves me."

Shaw didn't know what on earth had compelled her to tell him. Maybe she was hoping he'd tell her what she was supposed to do: leave, break things off, pretend it hadn't happened, lie and tell Root she felt the same way? Maybe it was also a half-assed excuse for not having checked up on him sooner.

He paused for a second before he kept on walking up the steps. He knew better than to turn to face her.

"D'you—"

"No," she cut off his question. "I don't even know what the hell that would feel like."

He was carefully avoiding looking at her as they walked to his apartment. She knew that he was trying to give her space to say as much or as little as she wanted, and she appreciated it. She honestly felt embarrassed that she hadn't let him finish asking.

"So… what now?" He asked. Her brow furrowed in frustration.

"I was hoping you could tell me," she told him.

"If you're asking me for help with your relationship, you must be pretty desperate," he said. It was a half-joke, poking fun at both of them.

Well aren't we just a pair of fuck-ups.

He let them into his apartment and looked around, confused.

"Did you… clean my apartment?" he asked, turning to look at Shaw.

"Elias," she said, shaking her head. His face shifted into dismay and annoyance. She joked, "Told you you're not alone."

She tried to make it light-hearted, but she could tell he was wary now that he realized he'd been being watched without ever picking up on it.

"Where's Bear?" he asked, concerned. He walked into the kitchen and put a hand on the counter for balance. "His bowl and food are gone…"

He looked back at her like this had hit him as another heavy loss.

"I'm sure he's fine. Go shower," she told him, pointing towards his bedroom and sitting down on his couch. She didn't want him to think about that for the time being, even though she herself wanted to sucker punch him for letting Elias take the dog. "What d'you want to eat?"

He gave a noncommittal answer and offered her a strained smile before he retreated into his bedroom and shut the door.

Now that she was alone, Sameen couldn't stop thinking about Root and the talk they'd had earlier. Argument? Discussion? Conversation?

Shaw had really only ever given herself one guide to live by: she didn't do relationships. And she had her reasons.

It wasn't just that she didn't want to have to check in with the same person all the time. Or that she found it annoying, wasting time figuring out how to keep someone other than herself happy. Sure, that was exhausting and seemed damn near impossible, but it wasn't the only thing that kept Shaw from letting herself get seriously involved with anyone.

It was also that once they got past that initial stage of mutual attraction and constant thirst for one another, her partners settled into something that was subdued, for lack of a better word. Every last one of the people Shaw had been involved with for too long seemed to calm after a while. If anything close to a 'relationship' started to take shape, they eventually wanted this other thing. This quiet affection. Yeah, they still wanted to have sex, but it was less frequent. It was the punctuation in the time they spent together, when at first it had been the whole conversation. And that was somehow supposed to be comfortable.

It wasn't like she hadn't tried to stick it out before.

When she was a sophomore in college, there had been Jonathan. After half a dozen late night hook-ups, he invited her over to watch some movie that he just couldn't believe she hadn't seen. She showed up to his dorm room in a tank top that showed enough skin that her mother would've cried, and Jonathan was beyond excited about this bizarro French film on VHS that he was 'so glad his film prof let him borrow'. Sameen knew immediately that she'd made a mistake. Forty minutes in, she had no grasp of the plot and was getting increasingly antsy and annoyed. She decided it was time to do something so that she didn't just storm out on him. He was hot in a generic white kid from a prep school kind of way, and… nice? She didn't know or care, honestly.

So she started edging into his space. Even when Shaw gave up on running her fingers along his thighs through his acid wash jeans and tried a more direct approach, leaning in to nip at his throat and get his attention, groping him through his denim, his eyes stayed glued to the subtitles on screen. And when she slung one leg over his lap, he craned to see past her and pointed at the television enthusiastically. "You're gonna miss the best part." She sank back to sit beside him. 'Yeah, I fucking noticed.' The words echoed around inside her skull, but she held out hope that once she'd survived this ordeal, they'd have sex and then she could go back to her dorm and never see Jonathan's dumb ass again. One hundred and twenty two minutes of obtuse symbolism that was lost on Shaw later, and she was barely in the mood to get his hands down her pants anymore. Worse than that, the guy just wanted to talk about the movie. Jonathan wanted long hours spent cuddling and chatting on his extra-long twin bed, and she wanted quite literally anything else. She started showing up to class late or skipping it altogether to avoid running into him in the lecture hall where they had back to back classes.

Later, there had been Cedric. They met a few months into medical school, in the same gym where Shaw watched Elaine running on the treadmill. She'd caught Cedric checking Elaine out, or maybe he'd caught Shaw doing the same. She couldn't remember anymore. Not that it mattered. Shaw had been trying to pinpoint why Elaine looked so familiar (and wondering if she'd be up for having sex with a woman) when Cedric asked if Shaw would spot him while he lifted. He was handsome, so dark-skinned that Shaw's genetics looked vanilla by comparison, could bench press more than double Shaw's body weight no problem, and had a smug grin that made Shaw's insides turn to liquid. They worked out together that day at the gym, then later in other ways at her apartment. It was exciting to feel like he could throw her around a little. He was always holding back, worried he'd hurt her despite her constant reassurances that she could take it, but sleeping with him was fun.

Almost two months passed. One afternoon they were running in the park side by side, and Shaw was thinking about how much more she enjoyed making him pant when they were alone than when they were in mile five of a jog that would leave him too tired to want to engage in her preferred cardio when they were done. It wasn't that she disliked running. She also didn't dislike him. She just liked being by herself more. If they weren't going to get naked she didn't see the appeal of spending her limited free time with another person. He paused for a moment to stop a kid's soccer ball with his toe before it went rolling into a lake, then caught back up to her on the running path. The next thing Shaw knew, he was asking between heavy exhales if she'd ever thought about having kids. And just like that, Shaw went from 'not that interested' to wanting to turn and run the other direction. She wondered if it was possible to transfer to another university in medical school.

Years later, while she was working with the ISA, there had been Mateo. She'd always had a thing for the brooding, vaguely European guys. They would meet up when she was in New York, and the first few times she'd put on a slinky dress, he'd take her dancing or to some fancy restaurant, then back to his loft apartment where she'd jump his bones. But eventually, he decided they should cook dinner instead of going out. She liked eating, but didn't get why Mateo wanted to cook. She'd hoped it meant that there would be less talking than their usual get-togethers and more nudity. But no. He wanted to 'get to know her.' It drove Shaw up the wall.

She would much rather live their separate lives and meet up after dark, fucking like jackrabbits or playing drawn-out games. Handcuffs and blindfolds. Cat and mouse. When Mateo worked with a paring knife cutting up a god damn heirloom tomato, Shaw busied herself wondering if those hands might ever consider wielding the same blade in bed. It wasn't something she'd thought she was into before, but suddenly it seemed incredibly appealing because that, at least, would be exciting. She wanted to be surprised. Wanted to have to guess what her partner might do next. As it turned out, what Mateo would do next was serve her under-seasoned fish and a spinach salad, followed by the proposal that they go on a trip to Vermont for the weekend, where his family had stayed at a bed and breakfast once. Shaw was relieved when she got a call saying she had an assignment that would take her out of the country. When she asked how long she'd be gone, she was told, as always, that she'd be away for as long as it took to find and eliminate the target. She went to work and never called Mateo again.

The problem, of course, was that Shaw didn't feel things the way that other people did. She'd read about how it was supposed to work. That it was normal to start a relationship in top gear, completely infatuated with another person, and then, over time, find a steady rhythm and shift to a comfortable companionship. Everything Shaw found tried to reassure readers that both stages qualified as 'love,' whatever that was supposed to mean. And everyone Shaw saw more than a handful of times started to follow the pattern. But Shaw didn't. She guessed that not being able to think about someone without wanting to fuck them counted as being infatuated, but she had never 'settled' into calmly enjoying simply being around another person. Instead, she got bored and broke things off, leaving with zero heartache or sadness. At this point, she could tell before it happened if a guy she'd been seeing would try to woo her back with one last roll in the hay. She usually took them up on the offer, but those final moments were a shadow of their first times together. They were too earnest. Too eager, trying to do all of the things that they thought she liked best as if she might change her mind. It wound up being uninspired and off-putting, leaving whatever 'relationship' they had on an unimpressive note.

Shaw then thought of Elaine, the woman that Root had been something like jealous of. That fact alone made Sameen want to roll her eyes. Although Elaine hadn't 'settled down' the same way others had, there had still been some gross miscommunication about what their interactions amounted to. It had started when Shaw finally gave up on avoiding the gym (and Cedric), and had started taking a boxing class. After class, she and another student decided to spar. They had been unevenly matched. Shaw kicked the girl's ass repeatedly and continuously until she was distracted by someone on a treadmill. Blonde pony tail swishing with each step she took. Elaine. Shaw once again tried to put her finger on where she knew the girl from, and stole glances at the blonde while she fought with her partner. She caught a nasty, cheap punch to the ear when she turned to watch Elaine get off the equipment, and Shaw struck back hard, pummeling the other girl until she was flat on her back. Sameen called it a day while her sparring partner got up slowly, spitting angry insults at her. Elaine looked up at the sound of the worked up voice, and Shaw had smirked at her when they made eye contact.

It took a while for Shaw to make anything happen with Elaine. It always seemed like their schedules barely overlapped, and while Elaine moved fluidly through their class's social circles, Shaw remained well outside of every last one of them. But when she was assigned a group for a project that included one of Elaine's good friends, Shaw put in a modest amount of effort to be something other than surly and went to a party at the guy's apartment when invited. Success. Elaine was there, cutting loose after their latest exam. Shaw had gotten the blonde girl a drink, expecting it to be a challenge to convince Elaine that they should meet up sometime and fuck. Turns out Elaine didn't need much convincing at all. They slept together the same night.

Sex with Elaine was as good as Shaw had imagined it would be. Their schedules for working in clinic or in lab were perpetually out of sync, which was perfect by Shaw's standards. Sameen would stay up waiting for a call from Elaine, they'd meet at one of their apartments, have sex, and then go their separate ways. When Thanksgiving rolled around and Elaine called Shaw up at home, it didn't mean anything in Shaw's mind. Sameen had been spending a lot of her vacation with her mom, who was determined to be unhappy. "These Americans don't want us celebrating their holiday," and "maybe if your father was still alive I would care." Getting naked with Elaine sounded pretty damn appealing. And when her mom heard something coming from Sameen's room, walked in on them, and found her straight-A-student daughter thrusting a strap-on into her very white, very female sexual partner? Things sort of fell apart. More than anything, Shaw was annoyed. She casually tossed Elaine her bra, grabbed her own clothes off the floor, and clumsily tugged her pants up over the dildo bobbing in its harness at her pelvis. She didn't even care for the damn thing. She much preferred using her mouth and fingers so that she could feel the incredible way that the blonde's body responded to her— being with a woman was different, new, and exciting. But Elaine liked the strap-on, and had wanted to see Shaw because she was having a rough holiday. Plus, Shaw definitely didn't mind the little noises Elaine made whenever they used it.

All the while her mom was crying and yelling and hitting at Sameen ineffectively. Shaw stayed stoic and all but ignored her mother, even when the older woman's open palm connected with her cheek with a loud crack. She simply brushed her mom away from Elaine when she grabbed for the blonde's arm, screaming at her for corrupting Sameen.

To top it all off, Elaine had gotten upset later because Shaw had just shown her to the front door without saying anything, her mother bawling at them both to get out. It wasn't worth making her mom have a meltdown just to fuck in her childhood bedroom. So she didn't call Elaine for the rest of the long weekend, and the one time that they met when they were back at school had been stilted and awkward. As best as Shaw could figure, Elaine was mad because Shaw stayed impassive throughout the whole thing. Didn't stand up to her mom and defend Elaine or herself. Shaw probably shouldn't have laughed at that, she just didn't get the point of making it into a bigger deal than it needed to be. It was her mother, it wasn't like she was going to hit the woman back. And she and her mom had been down this road before. Her mother had told her time and again that she hated how little her daughter could give emotionally, and Shaw didn't know what to tell her so she didn't say anything at all.

Anyway. Yeah, Shaw knew herself. And she had been pretty sure that she knew Root too. Sameen had figured that Root shared some of her boredom with routine, although she couldn't be sure because she'd never asked Root about her past relationships. It was just another topic that Shaw wished she'd thought to recognize as important. Why hadn't she ever asked Root about herself?

Regardless, it was pretty clear to Shaw that neither of them would be good at a 'relationship' in the traditional sense of the word. And now, Root was saying that she loved her.

Shit. Sameen knew how much easier it would be to cut and run. That was what she'd done every time someone started expecting more from her than she wanted to give. Every time she'd felt like she was being backed into a corner. Like she was being forced to pretend to be a fucking housebroken lapdog. But this thing with Root was different from every other time someone had gotten closer than Shaw wanted.

Shaw didn't want to watch dumb movies with someone unless she got to interrupt them by raking her fingertips up the inseam of their pants. Root definitely wouldn't mind that. Shaw didn't want to go for runs in the park with someone unless it was because they were chasing down a perp. Root would like that— Shaw knew the woman would never stop wanting to do what the Machine asked. And the only way that Shaw would ever cook dinner with someone would be if it involved being less than fully dressed, preferably with sex on the counter, bonus points for a little teasing and torture. And Root? Shaw knew that Root wouldn't have it any other way. Root wouldn't expect Shaw to talk about symbolism in some stupid fucking movie, or ask if Shaw planned on having kids, or invite her to a god damn bed and breakfast (unless it was for a mission, or to tie one another to the headboard like they'd done in the hotel weeks ago). And as for the trouble with Elaine— Shaw wasn't the kind of person who was going to sacrifice her own comfort on someone else's behalf unless it was for a damn good reason. But with Root, there was always a good reason: if Sameen could keep Root safe, she would never need anything else.

The two of them together was a recipe for disaster. Two trigger-happy ex-assassins in a relationship sounded stupid and miserable. Like a tiger and lion living together in a prison cell. And yet, Shaw felt comfortable with Root. Never bored. Like she was allowed to be hard to reach and quiet if that's what she needed. And that was enough that Shaw didn't want to run off and disappear. She didn't want to give Root up. Instead, because Root did keep coming back for more even when Sameen hurt her, Sameen wanted to negotiate the minefield of emotions. Even if it wasn't easy. Being allowed to disappoint Root made her never want to do it again.

But she would. She knew it, and she had tried to tell Root that, but she still wasn't sure that the taller woman had actually absorbed that fact.

Shaw called Fusco, told him to pick up some food for them all, then she hung up and sent Root a message. She didn't think she wanted to talk to her on the phone, mostly because she didn't want John walking in while she stumbled through asking Root to come and eat with them. Especially not when Shaw was beginning to feel like she knew what she had to do.

"Meet us at John's. Reese is fine. Fusco's bringing lunch."

Shaw's text message wasn't any less terse than usual. The shorter woman was always brief and to the point, which wasn't a surprise, and Root knew better than to read into it.

But the thought of venturing above ground was a little daunting, and because Sameen wasn't verbose in her text messages Root wouldn't know until she saw the other woman what sort of mindset she was in. Especially not if the Machine had started speaking to Root. Was Shaw going to tell her that they'd be better off sticking to being coworkers? Would Sameen even stick around for the sake of their work if things began to get back to the way they were before? If they didn't have a mission, would Shaw have any interest in spending time together aside from the occasional late night tryst? Root knew that last thought wasn't possible— Shaw had made it very clear that she cared a lot more than Root should have expected her to.

Root headed up the steps of the subway station slowly, feeling both restless and tired.

She emerged onto the street and the noises of New York closed in on her. People walked past brusquely, like she didn't even exist, and Root felt overwhelmed. Then, as quickly as the city's bustle hit her, the Machine started to speak.

It took Root's breath away.

All at once, the Machine was telling Root about the engine in a sports car that roared around the corner. Reading all of the step's to the dumpling recipe used by the restaurant that she passed. Giving the genus and species of flowers used in a coffee shop's window displays. The price of the shoes worn by the owner of a french bulldog. Even that french bulldog's name, Didi— which She said meant little brother.

The Machine chattered away endlessly, and it made all of the other sights and sounds less staggering. As long as She kept speaking, Root felt confident. Safe.

And She wasn't stopping.

It was as if She was making up for lost time. Root understood that the Machine was trying to show that She meant what She had been explaining before Shaw's text arrived. It wasn't that She hadn't wanted to speak to Root, it was that She thought Root needed time. Time to mourn. Time to reflect on the fact that they worked better as a team than on their own. And time to understand that all of that meant Root needed to listen, because they were only as effective as their ability to communicate.

Root suspected that the Machine was also gently trying to give her relationship advice. To anyone else it would have been laughable for an ASI to help with romance. But Root knew that no one knew her better than the Machine. The Machine probably knew everyone better than anyone else.

And She wasn't wrong. Root and the others were most effective if they cooperated. She and Shaw worked best when they were together, being honest with one another about what they wanted and needed.

So if the Machine was trying to direct her, Root knew she had to listen. In this and in everything else.

John returned from showering looking more like his old self now that he'd shaved, but he still wasn't wearing his usual black suit and white shirt, and he still looked exhausted and sad.

Fusco arrived with bags of takeout in hand, Bear pulling at his leash enthusiastically.

"Where the hell've you been? Your dog was at the precinct when I got back from looking for you, and nobody could tell me how he got there," Fusco said as he put the food down. He turned to John when he didn't get a response.

"You look like crap," Fusco complained when he got a good look at Reese. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you? Drunk?"

Shaw gave him a warning look and Fusco sheepishly frowned.

"He's sobering up," Shaw told Lionel harshly. She felt protective of John, which was ridiculous given that she'd said a lot worse to him earlier. It occurred to her that this must be what it was like to have a sibling: the only one who gets to tease my brother is me.

Shaw was just beginning to wonder if something had happened to Root when the brunette showed up, looking frail and anxious. It hit Shaw like a ton of bricks that Root had been hiding in the subway station for over a week. She'd been scared to go up above ground, especially without the Machine in her ear. And Shaw had just sent a text message asking her to go out on her own and come and meet them. Shaw kicked herself for not bringing the boys to the station, or at least offering to go back and get Root.

But Root hadn't asked Shaw to do either of those things. Hadn't mentioned it. And clearly hadn't refused to come meet them. Probably, Shaw knew, because she didn't want to annoy Sameen. Guilt settled in Shaw's stomach. Was Root really afraid to ask her for support if she needed it?

How am I supposed to let her help me if I make her feel like she can't ask for the same?

Shaw quietly watched Root. The taller woman was fidgeting, watching John take the food out of the bags. It made Sameen wish she knew how to make Root feel at ease.

Fusco helped John arrange the food and plates on the table by the windows. This place was nothing like the apartment that Shaw had once occupied. She'd known that John had good taste, but she hadn't realized that he cared about having a nice place. To her, an apartment had always been a spot to sleep that doubled as an oversized gun locker.

When they went to sit down around the table, Shaw waited for Root to pick a spot and then slid into the chair beside her. Fusco and Reese sat down opposite them, and Shaw felt the aching emptiness of the chairs at either end of the table.

First Carter, now Finch.

Shit. We can't lose anyone else.

She looked up and made eye contact with Reese. She could tell he was thinking the same thing, slouching forward and pressing his lips together hard. They all sat in silence for a long moment, unmoving, and then Fusco cleared his throat.

"I got a letter in the mail this morning," he said. Everyone looked at him, not sure what to make of this. He started to load his paper plate with food. "Turns out my kid got a scholarship. A big one. From an anonymous donor."

Fusco looked like he couldn't believe this bullshit, and handed the container of food to John, then motioned for Root to open the next one. Shaw's eyes narrowed at him.

"I called up the law firm on the paperwork, 'cause I thought it was a scam. Y'know, too good to be true. I mean, hell, my kid's not the one who gets a scholarship. He's not a bad student, don't get me wrong, but Bs and Cs don't get you this kinda cash. And hadn't I'd just been sayin' that I didn't know how I'm supposed to make ends meet? Then a month later two hundred thousand dollars worth of scholarship money just shows up in the mail?" Everyone had started to serve themselves now that he was talking and encouraging them to pass things. Shaw took an enormous bite of food, watched Root take a small forkful, and was distracted by the relief she felt that Root was actually eating something without being cajoled. "Well the guy— he said he could give me the contact information of the benefactor's executor."

"So I told him 'yeah, you do that. I wanna meet whoever this nut job is,'" Fusco continued. He looked up at Shaw, sitting diagonally from him. "You know whose number it was."

It wasn't a question. Shaw paused chewing the huge amount of food in her mouth and raised her eyebrows as she realized what he was about to say.

"Yours," Fusco told her. She hadn't known that Finch was giving Fusco money for his kid's school. She wasn't surprised given how much Finch had left to other things, but she hadn't known. Fusco smiled, looking sad. "Wish I'd known he was gonna do it. Woulda said he shouldn't."

Fusco raised his eyebrows and smirked.

"He probably woulda done it anyway," he said, his voice lower now. Shaw realized suddenly that Lionel was on the verge of tears. "But at least I coulda thanked him."

They ate in silence. Root was doing more than pushing food around her plate, which made Shaw feel a lot more confident in the decision she had made while Reese was in the shower.

They finished and Fusco got up, clearing his plate and saying he needed to get back to work.

The other three were still sitting quietly at the table when there was a quiet buzzing noise. Beside Shaw, Root had suddenly perked up.

John reached into his pocket and pulled out his vibrating cellphone. He answered it and lifted it to his ear, then looked at Shaw meaningfully.

Shaw turned and looked at Root in turn, who was hesitantly elated, clearly listening to something through her implant. It seemed like the Machine knew they both needed to hear from Her, and that Shaw would just as soon get the information secondhand.

When Reese hung up the phone and Root's eyes had focused on Shaw instead of staring into space, none of them needed to speak to understand what had happened. John pulled a pen out of his jacket pocket and grabbed the receipt from the food, writing something down.

"They never stop coming," Shaw said, relieved. It wasn't the first time she'd said it, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

They all stood, clearing the rest of the food off of the table.

"We'll go back to the subway and do some research," Shaw told John, motioning at Root. Then, kindly but in a way that let him know it wasn't a suggestion, "Once you're good, you should go to work."

He nodded and looked over at Root, who was throwing out the disposable dishes, then back to Shaw with a question on his face. She swallowed hard.

"It's gonna be alright," Shaw told him quietly, talking about herself, Root, John, the number, and everything else. He didn't look like he believed her. "When you're off work let me know. We'll get a drink."

She'd be happy to wallow with him for a while, even if a drink wasn't going to be the most helpful thing for either of them.

"We'll go see Zoe tomorrow," she added, softer than before.

His smile was grateful and sad. She opened the door, gesturing for Root to go ahead of her.

Out on the street, Root walked slightly ahead of Shaw, and she had to hurry to catch up, taking unnaturally long strides.

Sameen put a hand on the small of Root's back to get her to realize Shaw was trying to keep up. The taller woman immediately slowed, realizing she was out-pacing Shaw's shorter legs. Sameen's hand dropped to her side again when Root glanced down at Shaw and tried to give her a flirty smile that Shaw saw straight through. The brunette was still anxious.

"He's lucky to have you," Root said. The words were small, and Shaw felt bad for not giving her as much attention as she deserved.

"We're all lucky we have each other," Shaw said, as if it should have been obvious. Root looked over at her with the old borderline-mocking smile, and Sameen was acutely aware of how out of character her comment had been. At least it had made Root give her that goofy little doe-eyed expression. Shaw rolled her eyes at Root, trying to pretend she was annoyed, but couldn't keep from smiling up at her.

They walked a ways, and Sameen knew that there was never going to be a good time to try to tell Root what she'd spent the last hour and a half mulling over. She grimaced and took a deep breath to steady herself.

"I've been thinking…" she started. Root glanced down at her curiously. "Y'know… now that Samaritan's gone, I don't have stay underground."

She stopped speaking for a beat as they walked, turning towards Root to get out of the way of a businessman who bundled past them. Shaw looked up at Root's face and saw fear and sadness rumbling just beneath the surface of Root's expression. The taller woman quickly looked away from Shaw's face, trying to hide her worry.

"I was thinking of getting a place like John's. Seems like a step up from the subway," Shaw continued, a note of sarcasm in her voice. She was struggling to be direct about what she wanted. "Besides, it'd be nice to have some privacy."

She gave Root a sidelong glance and saw that Root was trying to keep her expression neutral. Shaw knew she was going to have to be a little less obtuse.

They hurried through a crosswalk before the light changed.

"As much as I love the thrill of wondering if Reese is going to walk in on us…" Shaw said, pulling her veil of sarcasm up higher as she hinted at what she intended. She could tell that Root had gotten where she was going because Root's pace had slowed and she was walking taller.

"Sameen, are you asking me to move in with you?" Root teased, looking down at Shaw like she was just the cutest thing. Shaw couldn't help but scowl.

"I mean, have you ever had your own place? Where do you keep your stuff?" Shaw asked, irritated. "Besides, if the Machine is going to want you to be on the move again, always running off to do whatever the hell She asks, maybe it'd be nice to have somewhere… homey to come back to."

Halfway through speaking, her words had lost their defensive edge. She'd looked up at Root and seen that the taller woman's eyes had the now-familiar watery look that said she was fighting off tears. Shaw looked away, more embarrassed than annoyed now, and kept walking, looking at her feet.

"You don't— it was just a thought," Shaw stuttered. "It's probably easier to keep living in the subway for now anyway. Better for keeping up with numbers. But eventually— Living at headquarters is just… You know what they say about not taking your work home with you or whatever."

Fingers wrapped around Shaw's elbow gently, and Sameen realized that with her eyes on her feet, she had been veering slightly away from Root without meaning to. She glanced up at Root and started to look away again before she processed the woman's face and her eyes snapped back up. Root's mouth had twitched into a smile that turned the teary-eyed expression into something else. Shaw recognized that the other woman was relieved. Happy.

Hesitantly, Shaw smiled back, and let Root walk so close that their sides were brushing.

"There's no rush," Shaw said, unable to stop herself from trying to put some distance between them. Root slid her hand down Shaw's arm to her unbroken hand and gave it a brief squeeze before letting go.

They reached the end of another block. This time, they didn't make it in time to cross and had to wait for the lights to cycle through.

Root took a deep breath.

"You know you don't have to do or say anything you don't want to, right? Nothing has to change," Root said. Shaw nodded, and stole a glance at Root. The taller woman's eyes quickly jumped away to the buildings across the intersection.

Root gave an odd, nervous smile, and finally looked back at Shaw.

She wanted Sameen to know that she could have as much space as she needed.

"I'm probably going to keep making you… uncomfortable," Root said, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she said that last word. It made her heart ache, thinking that she was hurting the woman she loved by pushing her too hard.

"Okay," Shaw said with a shrug and a little 'so what' smile. "I'm gonna keep disappointing you. It'll even out."

Despite how serious the conversation's topic was, Shaw had managed to keep those words playful.

Root felt those same three words that had started them spiraling into an argument earlier. They were rising in her throat, filling her chest with warmth. I love you. She looked away from Shaw, trying to make the feeling subside, but her eyes were drawn back to Sameen magnetically. The shorter woman was looking back at her, searching her face.

Root didn't know what she'd done to deserve Shaw. She'd never considered herself lucky until their paths crossed and she realized she'd met someone that she clicked with in a way she'd never felt with anyone else. She was sure that her face clearly showed how much affection she felt for Sameen, and tried to make it less obvious. She didn't want to make Shaw feel pressured. But looking into those dark eyes, Root's heart was racing so fast that she was reminded of the torture that Control had used on her. I love you.

Root could tell that Shaw was trying to look annoyed, but ended up smirking instead. Root was confused.

"I know, Root," Shaw said with a teasing roll of her eyes. When Root's brow furrowed deeper, not sure what Sameen meant, Shaw peered over her shoulder as if she was checking to see if they were being watched, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

Root followed the other woman's gaze, wondering what she was looking for, and was caught off guard when Sameen turned towards her, put a gentle hand on either side of Root's waist, and kissed her. Just as quickly, she stepped back out of Root's space, looking around casually before glancing at Root discretely to see how she'd reacted.

Shaw watched Root blink down at her in surprise, a smile spreading on her face. It was the most genuine, dumbstruck grin Sameen had seen in a while. Those brown eyes completely unguarded. Her whole face lit up.

No, Shaw wasn't going to tell Root that she loved her. Root didn't expect her to. But she wanted to reassure Root that she cared, and she wanted to keep Root close. Physically and emotionally. She wanted to know that at the end of the day, she'd get to see this exasperating, beautiful, incredible woman who never came close to boring her. Wanted to know that no matter what happened, they had each other.

Maybe that is love. She didn't know. But her chest and stomach were tight, like they'd gotten too big for her body and wanted to burst out.

Pedestrians started bumping into them and Shaw glanced up, seeing that it was their turn to walk. She gave Root a small smile and nudged her to start moving.

As they crossed the street, both Root and Shaw remembered all of the times that they'd had to leave one another behind. All of the times that they'd been unsure if they were ever going to see each other again. But they always had. It had always felt inevitable. They were both too hard-headed and stubborn to let anything derail them. It didn't matter where they had to go, or who or what they had to fight, they would always remain determined to find their way back.

There was something freeing about that.

They walked shoulder to shoulder toward Chinatown, content to be heading home to the subway station.