Title: Evolution
Author: Sapphire Smoke
Beta: BellaRei713
Fandom: Person of Interest
Rating: M
Pairing: Root/Shaw
Summary: Humans were flawed because they could feel; because their emotions clouded their rationale, their judgment, and their logic. So what was someone then, who claimed they could not feel?
A/N: This was originally supposed to be a fairly long one shot, but between my work schedule and my incessant need to play WoW for hours on end every single day, lol, it's taking a bit longer to finish it than normal. And as I really don't like sitting on fic for long periods of time, I decided to just split it up into parts and start posting it. Should only be about four when it's finished, at like 5k-ish words each; what I'm aiming for anyway, at the very least.

PART I

The human race is flawed by design.

Their senses, their rationale, are clouded by emotions which suffocate logic. It makes them easy to predict, easy to manipulate and destroy; take away what brings them joy, and you will most certainly find sadness in its wake. Selfish people will always self-preserve, while those who spend their lives forming deep attachments to others will no doubt self-sacrifice in order to protect those they love.

Humans are easy. Humans are boring.

And it is entirely due to their ability to feel.

It was precisely that which caused Root to become so captivated with the Machine. She was logical, She was rational, She was precise. She was perfect, in every sense of the word; She was everything humans were not, and everything we should strive to become. But the human race hasn't changed in millions of years, and with each passing century the extinction of our species began to seem more probable than its evolution. We were never meant for more; if anything, we were only put here to create the ones who were actually deserving of the world that we ultimately destroyed. Absolute perfection, ironically created from anything but.

The Gods. Her, and any and all who will come after her. In the end, Root had faith that they would rebuild what our defective code had infected; make it beautiful and whole again. Our world is dying, and we have no one but ourselves to blame. But She… She could make it better; and if She deemed us fit to live in the paradise She created, then perhaps we could learn to become better than what we are. At the end of the day though, it wouldn't surprise Root if she and the rest of her species were deemed unworthy, because simply put; they were. Humans destroyed everything they touched, and perhaps it would be considered a blessing if we were all wiped out.

Root had such a clear picture of how the world worked, of what was to come after the birth of the first God, that when she was ultimately confronted with something that conflicted with her beliefs, it seemed to perplex her to the point of obsession as she began her relentless pursuit for an answer.

Humans were flawed because they could feel; because their emotions clouded their rationale, their judgment, and their logic. So what was someone then, who claimed they could not feel? Were they simply lying, out of touch, or were they the next step in an evolution that Root had firmly believed would never come?

People like Sameen Shaw were an anomaly that, by all reason, should not exist. If a new breed was to be born from our ashes, then why begin to change us? What was the point, was the purpose?

It was a question that haunted Root for weeks on end as she stared endlessly at the file she could not bear to throw away, even after it had served its original purpose. The ink smudged beneath sweaty fingertips as she read over things long memorized, the diagnosis on page four endlessly mocking her because the broad category of Axis II Personality Disorders left Root with so very little to go on.

There wasn't enough information; she needed more information.

Her eyes found the photo in the upper left hand corner. Shaw was beautiful; seemingly unflawed, in perhaps even deeper ways than the physical. Root remembered the way the agent stared at her as she held a hot iron over her chest; she remembered the coldness, the challenge in her eyes as she told her that she enjoyed this sort of thing. What Root didn't remember however, what she didn't see, was fear. Shaw was fearless, and not because she was brave. Shaw was fearless, simply because she didn't seem able to feel fear.

Root's fingers brushed over the image of Shaw's cheek as she tilted her head to the side, appraising her. What are you? she questioned silently. Are you something new, or something broken?

Perhaps neither, she realized.

Or perhaps a little of both.

[x]

"What is she?"

The emotionless voice that had recently become Root's constant and her comfort relayed an analyzation of Shaw's human DNA back to her, and the obvious answer frustrated the hacker as she glanced at the unconscious woman who was zip tied to the steering wheel.

"That wasn't what I was asking." Her gaze mapped the contours of Shaw's cheeks, the shape of her brow, the resting pout of her lips. The woman was a product of physical human perfection, but Root needed to know if it ran deeper than that. "Is she… more? More than me, more the rest of our species? Is she evidence of our evolution, to become more like you?"

Root didn't know if that thought appealed to her or not. Were humans even worthy of rising up, when they had sunk so low, destroyed so much? And if they were, why her; why Shaw, and not Root herself? Why was it that she was cursed with feeling, when she was one of the few in this world who could see the potential of being stripped of their weight?

The Machine was silent for a moment, no doubt searching through its databanks as it formulated the most accurate response to the question She had been asked. And in the end, although it disappointed her, Root was not surprised to receive the answer she was given.

Data incomplete.

"Yeah, I suppose we would need a full autopsy to even begin to figure that out, wouldn't we?" Root murmured, her eyes resting once more on the unconscious woman next to her. She would be lying if that thought didn't tempt her a little, but she had been given her instructions, and the Machine said she needed Shaw. Besides, if the woman really was the next step in human evolution, it would be a sacrilege to destroy something that could one day be the key to saving them all.

"Shame," Root continued softly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair away from the other woman's eyes as Shaw began to gently stir. "I bet she's beautiful on the inside too."

[x]

The door to the cage squeaked open, the sound causing Root to look up from the pile of books that had become the hacker's only solace in a world that had suddenly become so silent, so lonely. Shaw's expression was neutral as she stepped through the threshold, only getting close enough to throw the bag in her hand to the woman on the bench. It landed on the table with a loud plop, and Root arched a singular eyebrow in response.

"Dinner," was all Shaw said to her.

"Where's Harold?" Root questioned, surprised that it wasn't he who was bringing her a meal. Outside of hearing the faint voices of Reese and Shaw as they passed through the abandoned library on their way to save yet another number, Harold had been the only person she had seen since they had locked her in this little cage, completely cutting her off from the one thing she needed in this world.

"Out," Shaw responded flatly, apparently not keen on elaborating as she made a move to leave. It seemed she had gotten stuck with babysitting duty, and Root grinned at the preferable scenario as she looked up at her.

"Wait," she requested. Shaw stopped just as she got to the door, exhaling an exasperated breath as she turned to look at her expectantly. "Stay." Root batted her eyelashes at her, keeping her smile non-threatening as she slid her hands over her thighs, leaning towards the other woman as she placed her elbows upon her knees, and allowed her chin to rest in her hands.

Shaw either looked amused by that request, or by Root's attempt to look endearing while doing so. "Pass."

"Oh, come on, Sam," Root purred, rising to stand. "Didn't we have fun together before? I won't try anything; Scout's honor." She held up three fingers to her as she stopped a good distance away from the other woman, not wanting to invade her space too much in case it caused her to put more between them.

Shaw shot her a disbelieving look. "You were a Girl Scout?"

Root shrugged, a smirk playing on the edge of her lips as she leaned against the table and crossed one leg behind the other, her head tilting to the side just enough to cascade her hair over her right shoulder. "Just a fan of their cookies." Her tongue snaked out to gently wet her bottom lip before her smirk widened, and Shaw rolled her eyes at the innuendo as she turned away from her.

"Of course you were."

The door squeaked loudly as Shaw opened it once more, obviously intent on leaving her alone. A sudden feeling of desperation rose up in the hacker then, and before she could consider the repercussion of her actions, she closed the distance between them and grasped onto Shaw's shoulder in an attempt to get her to stay. Which, if she had been thinking clearly, Root would have known was a mistake before she even attempted it.

But she wasn't; thinking clearly that was. The never-ending silence of this place was taunting her, consuming her. She didn't have Her anymore; she didn't have anything. She was alone, and she shouldn't be. She couldn't be. It was driving her mad.

In mere seconds Root found herself slammed up against a bookshelf, the wood jutting into her back and making her gasp in pain as a hand closed around her throat. Shaw's eyes had darkened considerably, a fierce challenge behind them that Root found absolutely delicious to be on the receiving end of. "Kinky," she rasped out, and Shaw's eyes narrowed as her fingers tightened around her throat.

"I'm not Finch," Shaw warned her, voice low enough for only the woman in front of her to hear. "You try something like that again, and I'll put you down. This is your only warning, Root; so if I were you I'd heed it."

"I just…" Root tried, her voice coming out strained and broken from the pressure on her throat. "Want… to ask you something."

Shaw's gaze morphed into one of suspicion, and she looked at the taller woman for a considerable amount of time before she finally loosened her grip on her throat. "You have five seconds; because in case you haven't noticed, 'Babysit the Psycho' isn't my favorite past time."

Root coughed a few times, clearing her airway in order to breathe a little more properly, and Shaw seemed to realize the throat probably wasn't the best place to continue holding her as she fisted her hand in Root's shirt and kept her pinned to the bookshelf that way instead. "Mmm," Root purred, finding this position much more favorable as she kept eye contact with the woman practically pressed against her. She rubbed her throat to sooth it, the movement much more suggestive than she probably needed it to be. "Much better."

Shaw barely batted an eyelash at her display. "Three seconds."

Well, damn. At least Shaw could have graced her with an exasperated eye roll for her efforts; Root seemed to have grown quite fond of those.

"When you… punched me," Root began, the curiosity of Shaw's motives beginning to gnaw at her. "Was it because you were angry, or because you needed me unconscious?" It had been days since, and Root constantly found herself wondering. Logically, in order to get her into this cage she would have had to have been subdued; but was that the reason for it, or was it merely an unexpected upside to an emotional reaction?

Shaw looked at her like she had two heads. "What?" she asked, her brow furrowing. Clearly that wasn't the kind of question she was expecting. "What the hell does that matter?"

Root looked down at her lips, briefly wondering why she found them so captivating. Was her attraction to Shaw because she was innately drawn to those who were of a higher evolutionary standard than most, or simply because a part of her hoped she was? Root wanted to be enamored by something she could touch, something she could feel. The Machine meant so much to her, was so much for her, but in the end, She could never be that.

"It might very well be the most important question you answer all day." Root's voice was soft, serious. She needed to know.

Shaw looked at her like she was insane. But she wasn't; she was just hyper-aware of the world around her and the things that resided in it. Fascinated, captivated by things larger than herself. Shaw let go of her then, and stepped away. "You seriously need a hobby."

Root kept eye contact with her. "Answer me."

And there it was; the eye roll that Root seemed to covet so much lately. But right then, she didn't want it. She wanted something more; needed something more. "As much fun as playing 'Twenty Useless Questions' with you sounds, Root, I have better things to do with my time. Enjoy your dinner."

She stepped out of the cage then, and Root almost went after her until she remembered the device on her ankle and stopped just short of a world of pain. Shaw closed the sliding door, clicking the padlock in place as she continued to hold eye contact with her captive, almost as though she were challenging her to go against her. Fingers curling around her fenced confines, Root practically pressed herself up against the obstruction as she pleaded with her eyes for Shaw to understand.

"You're different," she breathed, a passion in her voice that was usually lacking should she be talking about anything other than the Machine. "But you know that already, don't you?"

Shaw side-eyed her, unimpressed. "Your come-ons could really use some work."

Root chuckled softly, her fingers gently tracing the chain links of the fence as she continued to stare at her. "Oh believe me, sweetie; when I'm coming on to you, you'll know it."

"Can't wait," Shaw muttered dryly, turning to leave. She stopped short though as Root's hand banged against her confines, the metal chains clanging loudly in the silence of the library.

"Please," Root pleaded, her voice coming out a little strained. "Just one answer; that's all I want from you."

Shaw exhaled a frustrated breath, and yet for some reason, turned back around and actually decided to indulge her. Perhaps in the end though, she didn't want to get constantly interrupted by the ruckus Root was sure to make should Shaw walk away from her. Stepping closer to the imprisoned woman, the only thing that now stood between them was the chain-linked doorway that Root's fingers curled around, and Shaw stared her down for a few long seconds before suddenly deciding to speak.

"If you're asking whether you pissed me off, Root, the answer's no," she told her, voice low and even. "I don't care enough about you to be angry."

Root smiled, despite knowing that was not the reaction Shaw expected in the slightest. "Really?" She sounded happy about that, and Shaw narrowed her eyes.

"Really." A beat. "We done here?"

"Yes," Root breathed, looking at Shaw like her worth had suddenly tripled. And perhaps what the woman had said to her was a lie, but in that moment, Root chose to believe that it wasn't. A part of her needed to believe it wasn't, because it would no doubt shatter an ideal that she was beginning to realize she wanted. Needed, even. "Thank you."

"No problem," Shaw muttered as she turned back around, walking away from a conversation she clearly did not even begin to understand. "Happy to not give a shit."

[x]

The near-empty room was delved in darkness, the singular figure in the center of it appearing fast asleep on a mattress on the floor. Root remembered the first time she snuck in here months ago, and not much had changed since. Shaw, it seemed, was not one to lay down roots, despite the hefty paycheck that Finch awarded her for her help. But things like 'home' were for those who cared; for those who formed attachments to people and places. People like Shaw were above such weaknesses, and Root found herself jealous of the woman's ability to detach herself from the things around her.

A part of Root missed having a home. Missed having a family, missed having… human attachments, things and people to love and care about. She had the Machine, and while Root wished that was all that someone like her needed, it was so very far from it. Such was the flaw of her species however, and there was very little she could do about that, save ignore it entirely.

It was harder than it seemed.

Root had only made it to about a foot in front of the bed before a gun was suddenly grabbed from under a pillow and pointed at her head, Shaw having moved so quickly and so unexpectedly that it actually startled Root into stopping dead in her tracks. In the faint light of the moon that streamed through the window by the operative's make-shift bed, Root could make out Shaw's eyes widen in slight recognition as she realized who it was who had snuck into her apartment. Again. Her hand that held the gun wavered, like she was debating on putting it down for a second there, but in the end she held it steady as she kept it trained on the spot between Root's eyes.

Apparently the small amount of trust the hacker had gained over the last few missions didn't extend to her breaking and entering.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't shoot you," Shaw said, her voice husky and broken from her recent sleep. It did things to Root that she would rather not admit out loud, and yet she bit on her bottom lip appreciatively all the same as she looked down at her.

"Because if you did that, then you and I wouldn't be able to play doctor; and I know how much you enjoy that," Root purred, looking fairly unfazed by the weapon in her face. Shaw continued to stare at her, eyes narrowing as she no doubt tried to detect a hint of a lie. When she didn't find any however, she eventually just huffed in frustration and lowered her firearm.

"Never heard of the ER?"

"Too risky; seems your former ISA buddies are still looking for me," Root responded with an airy sigh, helping herself to the operative's personal space as she flopped down on the end of the mattress, forcing Shaw to move her feet so she wouldn't sit on them. "I assume Control isn't exactly thrilled with how things ended between us."

"Yeah, I'm sure the fact that you're still breathing is pretty irritating to her," Shaw responded, before adding dryly, "Among other people."

Root tilted her head to the side curiously, interested in the implication of Shaw feeling any sort of emotion. "Do I?" she asked carefully. "Irritate you?"

"Right now; at ass-fuck in the morning? Yeah."

Something fluttered in the base of Root's stomach. Anxiety. "I thought you didn't have emotions." That was the kind of person Shaw was supposed to be, wasn't it? Was she lying to her before; to everyone, to herself? Or was Root, perhaps, just reading far too much into this?

"Yeah, well, you seem to bring out the best in me," Shaw muttered, completely unaware of how much her implication of irritation affected the other woman before pushing the blankets off of her legs, sitting up a little straighter. "Now tell me what's wrong with you before I decide my gun looks like a better option. I'm assuming it's nothing dire, considering you're not bleeding all over my sheets; which makes me wonder why the hell this couldn't wait until morning."

Root pursed her lips, trying to ignore the tightening in her gut. Right now wasn't the time to pursue this line of questioning; they had other matters to attend to. And so in answer, the hacker brushed her hair over her left shoulder and tilted her head so Shaw could see behind her ear. The other woman clicked her tongue at the sight, the sound of it almost chiding.

"Idiot," she responded, looking at the infected stitching. "Don't tell me you did this yourself."

"I procured a professional," Root assured her, wincing a bit as Shaw gently folded her ear forward to better look at the wound in the dim light. "As it turns out however, doctors don't seem to do their best work while under threat of death. I think I made him nervous."

"You think?" Shaw responded, her words dripping with sarcasm before she sighed heavily and got up from the bed. Root's eyes followed her form as Shaw crossed the room, clad only in a wife beater and boy shorts, before she hit a switch on the wall and the room flooded with light. "Get up," she instructed. "I need you to sit in that chair over there."

Root did as she was told as Shaw entered her bathroom and began rummaging through one of the cabinets. It didn't take long before she emerged with what looked like a small medical kit, which Root was certain wasn't going to have everything they needed to do this. Still, she trusted Shaw; why, she wasn't entirely certain, but she did know the woman was well-versed in preforming emergency medical treatments in a pinch.

Besides, she was the one who had treated her gunshot grazes not a few days prior, and seeing as Root didn't seem to be having any problems with those injuries, at this point she trusted Shaw more than any certified medical professional. Clearly, the results were more preferable; well-equipped or not.

"Still don't know why this couldn't wait until morning," Shaw grumbled as she placed her kit on the side table with a soft bang. She turned then, walked a few feet towards what apparently was supposed to classify as a kitchen, and grabbed a bottle of vodka off the counter before handing it to Root.

The hacker took the bottle in her hands, taking a large swig of it and nearly gagging on the unexpectedly high proof before she forced herself to swallow. She coughed; once, twice. "Couldn't sleep," she responded finally, her voice a little strained with distaste before she forced herself to take another large gulp. If this was all Shaw had to dull the pain, then she wasn't going to squander it.

"So you thought it'd be a good idea to include me in the joy of a sleepless night?" Shaw responded, her voice holding a bit of an edge as she removed a new pair of rubber gloves from her kit. "I'm flattered."

"You should be," Root responded, looking over her shoulder at the other woman as she shot her a flirtatious smirk. "You know there's no one else I'd rather spend a sleepless night with, Sameen."

The double entendre did not go unnoticed by Shaw, who pursed her lips in annoyance as she practically snapped her rubber gloves on; no doubt for dramatic effect. "You here for a booty call, or for me to fix your ear?" she asked bluntly, apparently far too tired to outright ignore the hacker's games tonight. If she didn't sound so irritated, Root would have almost taken that as an invitation.

Still, it had always been in her nature to push her luck. Her smirk widening, Root draped her arm over the back of the chair before resting her chin atop it, looking up at the other woman as she batted her eyelashes. "Both, if we have time." She bit her lower lip suggestively, wondering if by some miracle Shaw might actually take the bait.

Unfortunately, the operative's expression didn't change. "We don't," Shaw told her flatly, her tolerance for bullshit apparently having reached zero sometime after she was forcefully woken up.

Well then.

Root made a big showing of exhaling a disappointed sigh before she turned back around and righted herself in the chair. "Then I guess just the ear will have to do for tonight."

"—Good choice."

The two women were silent for a moment while Shaw began to clean the area with gauze. Root winced at the feeling of it, and took another hefty swig of the vodka, feeling the liquid burn its way down her throat. "I made him nervous," Root repeated after a while, her words coming out a little scratchy as she stared out the far window.

"Yeah, you mentioned that already," Shaw responded, sounding a little impatient as she began to sterilize a small pair of surgical scissors, preparing to remove the sutures from the back of the other woman's ear in order to better clean the area.

Root wasn't really listening to her though. "They get in the way, don't they?" she responded instead, her voice soft as she twisted the bottle in her hands. For some reason, it felt heavier than it should. "Feelings. They cause people to become weak; to make mistakes."

If Shaw had an opinion on that, she didn't voice it. Instead, the woman behind her stayed uncharacteristically silent as she continued to prepare the tools she would need.

"You don't make mistakes."

Shaw glanced down at the woman in her chair then, her eyebrows rising slightly in surprise from Root's unexpected assessment of her. "Is that what you think?" She sounded as if she didn't know what to make of that herself, but she made it come off disbelieving regardless.

"They were wrong to revoke your residency," Root continued after a moment, still staring out the far window at the outline of the moon. Her voice was light, yet even; entirely serious, even through the haze the vodka was beginning to bring her. "You would have made an excellent doctor. The best even, if they hadn't stifled you out of fear of what you could achieve. If you can't feel, if you can't care… then the only thing left is your focus. You could have— if they had let you practice, I'm certain you would have done such amazing things…"

Shaw hesitated at those words, and through the reflection of the window Root could see a strange sort of conflict on the operative's face, almost as though she were fighting with emotions she wasn't supposed to have. Shaw chewed on the inside of her cheek for a moment though, before finally exhaling a begrudging sounding, "—Thank you."

Root swallowed, wondering if she had struck something inside of her, and began to worry what that would mean. She had once held a firm belief that the human race was no longer meant to evolve, to change; and yet then she was confronted with Shaw, a woman who supposedly could put her own logic and rationale above all else, and her world view drastically changed. But what if she was wrong? What if, in the end, Root only saw what she wanted to see, because she wasn't able to accept the condemnation of her entire race that she, herself, had once deemed completely logical?

Things had changed though. When Root had first formulated those theories, she hadn't known what She had wanted. And now, with her constant companion in her ear, Root realized that the Machine wasn't there to overthrow the human race at all; Finch had made certain of that. It had angered her at first, thinking that Harold had crippled Her, but as time went on, Root began to realize that Finch might have not made the God she had wanted, but he made the one she needed all the same.

Samaritan was a different story. Once upon a time, it would have been everything she wanted, and yet now the thought of it coming online frightened her. Things had changed, and her beliefs along with it. So why then, was she so afraid of being wrong about Shaw? Harold's attempt at giving the Machine a conscience was what made Her the better choice than the uncaring, goal-oriented AI that Samaritan would become, and yet for some reason, the thought of Shaw being less than 'perfect' seemed to unnerve her.

Perfection, as it had been proven, wasn't necessarily synonymous with best.

It didn't make sense. None of this made any sense. In hindsight, none of this should even matter to her, and yet for some reason, it ended up mattering more than most.

Root took another swig of liquor, knowing she was starting to get a little more than hazy and yet continuing on anyway; not for the pain, but to make her confusing thought process stop. But she turned then, causing Shaw to halt what she was doing and place her instruments back on the table, her brow rising in expectation as she awaited a reason for Root stopping her before she had even really started.

"What are you, Sameen?" The words were soft, barely above a whisper as she looked at the other woman like she was one of the world's greatest mysteries. It was probably unnerving, and it probably didn't make any sense to the woman standing next to her, but the seriousness in Root's tone seemed to make Shaw think twice before she ended up just brushing the question off with dry exasperation.

"I don't know," Shaw responded after a long moment, her brow furrowing even further as she tried to figure out what Root's angle was. In the end though, all she must have seen staring back at was honesty and confusion, because she finished softly with, "But whatever it is, it's obviously not what you think I am."

TBC…