Beautiful, But Annihilating

by AmethystB

"If the moon smiled, she would resemble you.
You leave the same impression
Of something beautiful, but annihilating." - Sylvia Plath

The city burns under her gaze. A wistful glance up to the moon, her third eye. The lights in tall buildings become fireflies dancing as they turn on, then off.

Root watches through the window, the balcony a forbidden platform on a night like tonight. She can't risk being seen, not right now. The safe house needs to be a safe place tonight.

The bathroom door opens and steam erupts across the threshold. Shaw emerges, hair dark and wet but a hand towel sees to any stray droplets. She shakes the cotton through her hair as she crosses the room. She's dressed in dark jeans and a dark hoodie.

"Feel better?"

The shower had been long and hot, every part of her cleansed and Samaritan's remnants washed away. She doesn't answer Root, just holds her gaze for a moment too long, then turns to watch the city lights.

"Where's Elias?"

Root nods to a closed door behind them. "Turned in for the night."

Her voice is gentle and smooth, quietly cutting through the dense feeling in the air. Shaw is acutely aware of the feeling, its thickness a raw reminder that this might not be real. She'd felt like this in each of the seven thousand simulations, like something's holding her down.

"Thanks for bringing me here."

Root smiles and Shaw catches it in the low light. "Just doing what you asked."

In the hum of sacred silence Shaw stares at the city's skyline. In her mind she can see towers burning, an inferno tearing down the world. Root knows nothing of this; the luminescent glow of the moon turns her world a pale shade of blue, while Shaw sees red.

"Nine months ago you talked to a kid, a boy. Did he tell you Samaritan could stop the world from ending?"

Root freezes at the question, looks squarely into Shaw's passive eyes. "Is that what he told you?"

Shaw doesn't answer either way. If the boy—Samaritan—was lying, what does it matter? It failed in its mission to turn her. Didn't it? Wasn't burning the world down in front of her one of its tricks?

"Doesn't matter."

A shiver sprints through Root, an involuntary spark of familiarity. How badly had they broken her?

Shaw steers away when Root's hand reaches out to touch her cheek. Her shoulder brushes the sleeve of Root's jacket as she walks towards the kitchenette.

Casting a final wistful gaze to the world outside, Root lets out a quiet sigh and shrugs off her jacket, folds it over the couch as she sits. She watches Shaw reach for the whiskey and a tumbler. She pours a generous amount, brings the glass to the couch, sits in the opposite corner to Root. She brings the whiskey to her mouth and sips big.

"How's Bear?"

"He misses you," Root says with a warm smile.

Her legs are folded up, elbow creasing the edge of the couch as her head rests on her palm. She looks sideways at Shaw, who allows her wet hair to soak into the fabric of the tight grey hoodie; she's zipped up, closed off.

"We all miss you."

Their eyes meet and they don't turn away. There's an ocean between them.

"I can't go back there, you know that. Not yet."

"I know."

Shaw looks away then. She realises she's been holding her breath. An audible sigh, letting everything out, then she reaches again for her drink. The liquor hits her quick, relishing the thrill of coursing through her after a long absence. Her blood warms, a welcome feeling.

On impulse she touches two fingers behind her ear, pressing, feeling for the chip. Root notices; she's been doing that all day.

Shaw looks over, catches Root's concern. "They got in my head. There's a chip. But I don't know if that's real anymore."

Root wants to cross the indelible line between them, comfort, reassure. But that's never been what they do.

"They're not here now."

"They were everywhere, in here. When they had me, they knew how to exploit me. They knew things about me even I'd forgotten. Things I didn't even know."

Root stays silent, listening. Feeling everything.

"They took hope away. Wore everything down. I died seven thousand times. But it didn't end."

Shaw drinks. She's numb, but not from the whiskey.

There's an undertow; Root resists its seductive rage. She's felt it before, when hope was taken from her. When she threatened Control's life. When she snapped Martine's neck. It's dangerous, and beautifully raw.

"I want to hurt them. I'm going to hurt them."

Root's threat hangs between them, a violent promise, a veiled declaration. Shaw doesn't ignore the passion, doesn't deflect the magnetic pull; instead, she allows herself to be drawn in. Crosses the gap, kisses Root quickly, pulls back.

She knows how the simulation goes, and doesn't want to follow it this time. She wants it to be real. It's delicate, between them. It could evaporate, disappear from their reality.

They're still close. Shaw lets Root ghost a tentative hand across her cheek.

"Promise me you won't put a gun to your head again, okay?" Root all but whispers. "That wasn't much fun."

Shaw draws a cross over her heart with a finger. "Promise."

The warmth between them becomes electric and neither resists. They kiss without hesitation but slowly, transcending the desperation of the simulations. Shaw finds Root's hand, entwines their fingers, guides their bodies together. She lets Root pull down on the zipper of her hoodie, open her up. She forgets everything leading up to this moment, forgets she'll remember later, and loses herself in the woman who loves her so completely.

Later, it's quiet. Silence returns, and it's not unwelcome. They lie, unburdened, in the darkness. The guest bedroom has that empty feeling, un-slept in. Egyptian cotton separates them.

"You there?"

It's more an affirmation than question, a searching note in a consuming symphony.

"You know I am."

Root, on her side, winds a finger through her lover's hair. Shaw stares up into the darkness.

"I'm here and I'm real. We're real, Sameen. They're not taking this from us."

Shaw stays silent for a long moment, then quietly her voice wavers. "What if they do?"

"Screw Samaritan. I'll take it apart, piece by piece. I promise."

Morning is close and they drift into an uneasy sleep before it arrives. Shaw wakes first, stealing a selfish moment to search reality, to drink in the scene of her sleeping lover. It hurts sometimes to be numb, but in this moment something inside her swells and she can almost feel. Almost, but always just out of reach.

She dresses, squints at the hint of sunlight coming through the covered window, and feels under the bed for her gun. She'd left it there as an insurance policy; she probably should have told Root about it. A deception, not their first.

Shaw knows there's a bullet in the chamber, so she ejects it quietly and dismantles the weapon. Break it down to build it up. Take it apart, piece by piece. Put it back together. She knows the gun intimately by the time she feels Root stir beside her.

Root's sleepy drawl interrupts Shaw's twisted meditation. "Did you get any sleep?"

From the edge of the bed Shaw pitches a small smile. "Not a whole lot. Too restless, can't settle."

For proof she holds up the gun.

"You were afraid you'd wake up somewhere else?"

"The simulations were a real mindfuck. Literally. Maybe I'm still in one," Shaw posits with a shrug. Kisses Root quickly. "You should go."

Root curls her lips into a seductive smile. "Or I could stay. Make you breakfast."

For a calculating second Shaw considers the happy scenario. A normal morning, domestic bliss. And Elias makes three.

"You should go. Reassure Finch when he asks about me."

Root doesn't argue the point further. She knows Shaw's defensiveness masks a hidden world of pain. So she slips out of the bed, finds her clothes and obediently prepares an escape. But Shaw is smiling, following Root with her eyes, safe in her haven for at least a moment longer.

They kiss, softly. Don't linger. Break apart. It's their way.

"I'll see you later," Root says quietly, upbeat. "We'll shoot some bad guys."

Notes: There's no way this didn't happen between episodes. Just saying. If you felt anything at all please favourite or leave a review.