Chapter Text
“Just sit tight and stare out the window. The camera is right here- take photos of whoever enters and exits,” Root said, motioning to the device on the right-side of the table, “and the volume button is right here.” She twisted the knob experimentally on the radio to the left and right. She pushed the pad of paper towards the other woman, scribbling the pen on the top page to test the ink. “Oh! And write down anything important you hear,” she instructed. She smiled encouragingly at the woman sitting in front of her. “Any questions?”
Harper crossed her arms, glaring up at Root. “When you asked me over, I thought the fun part was gonna be like watching TV together or some dumb shit. Not babysitting your neighbors,”
“C’mon, Harper,” Root pouted, “I need to go back to work today. Don’t you wanna be a spy?”
“No,”
“I baked cookies,” Root sang. Harper perked up, rising from her chair.
“Where?”
Root patted her gently down. “Now, now, Harper,” she chided, “I’m not going to tell you where they are! I’ll give them to you when I get home.” Root paused, glancing at Harper. “But I did set up some clues - the first is Shaw’s favorite room,”
Harper stared at her. “What?”
“Now you’ll have to listen in if you wanna find them early! You’ll do fine,” Root smiled, gathering her purse. She glanced in the mirror, checking her make-up.
“You’re crazy,” Harper stated, still looking at her in disbelief. Root winked, sauntering out of the room.
“Don’t let them see you when you take the picture- no flash!” She called out before she closed the front door behind her.
She strutted across the street, making her way towards Shaw’s house. It was early, but knowing Shaw, she’d be awake. She was an early riser.
“What,” Shaw grunted, swinging her door open.
“Hey, Shaw,” Samantha replied cheerfully, ignoring the other woman’s poor mood. She rummaged through her purse, producing a small bottle. “I stopped by to give Michael back his orange extract. I made cookies!”
Shaw frowned, snatching the bottle from the open hand. She wrinkled her nose in contempt.
“You guys share baking tips now?” she asked, incredulous. “This is his secret ingredient,”
“Not so secret anymore, it seems,” Samantha grinned, “Looks like he likes me!”
“Oh my god,” she muttered, clenching it in her fist. She tucked it into her waistband of the running shorts she was wearing. “Is that all?” she asked, glaring. She hoped she would hurry up and leave.
“Trying to get rid of me already, Sameen?” Samantha pouted, jutting our her bottom lip. Her eyes lingered over Shaw’s body, stopping abruptly at her legs. “Wow, Shaw,” she teased, “didn’t know you and Michael were into some wild stuff,”
“Gross!” she exclaimed, curling her lip. Shaw frowned in confusion, glancing down to see the bruise staring up at her.
Shaw squirmed beneath the other woman’s triumphant gaze. The weird feeling re-emerged, and Shaw stepped back.
“I, uh, fell,” she supplied, lamely. “The, uh, stairs.”
“Oh, that makes sense,” Samantha smiled. “I usually get bruises, too, but not on the shin,”
Shaw ignored the innuendo. “Is that all?” she repeated, more firmly this time.
She gave a disappointed look. “Can’t blame a girl for trying to avoid work,”
“Won’t you get in trouble for being late?”
Samantha let in an exaggerated gasp. “My husband just died!” She feigned shock.
Shaw frowned. What a weird reaction. “Go to work, Samantha,”
She saluted. “See you,” she called. Shaw slammed the door shut, the frame slightly vibrating with the force of it.
Cole emerged soon after from the room, fiddling with the buttons on his suit. “Who was that?” he asked distractedly. He patted his hair down in the mirror.
“Samantha. Did you give her your orange extract for baking cookies?” she accused, holding it up.
“Oh, yeah, I did!” he replied, licking his thumb to wipe off a stain from the chocolate chip pancakes he made that morning from his cheek. “She was gonna make cookies,”
“You didn’t share that recipe with my mother,” Shaw huffed.
“You told me not to!” Cole defended, grabbing his briefcase that rested next to the door. “I’ll be home late - there’s a big meeting today,”
“The shooting?” she asked. His grim nod confirmed it.
“How are the agents? Who were shot?”
He frowned. “I’m not sure, they haven’t told me much,”
Shaw shook her head. “It’s been three days since the shooting. They’ve probably been recuperating, they would’ve called if they died. The office probably wanted you to have a weekend off,” she reassured. He gave her a small smile.
“Thanks, Shaw,”
She nodded. “Yeah, sure.” He opened the door. “Have a good one,”
She watched him drive off, shutting the door once out of sight. She leaned against the frame, exhaling a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.
She hoped no one was dead. It could destroy him.
She winced as she slowly made her way back to the couch, lifting her feet on the table in front. She sucked her teeth as the ice pack hit her bare skin, resting it on her ribcage. She groaned in frustration - she couldn’t wait until her injuries healed.
Harper leaped up from the seat as the front door clicked open, the familiar sounds of Root’s shoes clicking on the hardwood floor. The met midway in the hallway between the rooms.
“Hey, Harper,” Root smiled, “find anything interesting,”
“Not the cookies,” Harper growled, dragging Root by the arm back into the kitchen. On the table lay a pile of folded up scraps of paper next to the pad of paper, filled with scribbles of information. Harper grabbed a scrap.
“‘What is Shaw’s favorite color? Count the letters and times it by five- count those steps from this letter north east!’” Harper read, tossing the paper back into the pile.
Root laughed, sliding by her deeper into the kitchen.
“Root, where are you going?” Harper complained in exasperation, following her. Root kneeled down and open the oven, pulling out a tray of cookies.
“Thanks for taking notes, they look really in-depth,” Root smiled, holding the tray out. She took a bite from one. “Wow, orange extract really does the trick,” she nodded with a smile. Harper stared at her. “Okay, to be fair, I told you I would give it to you when I got home,” Root reasoned. “I never said the clues would lead to anything.”
Harper continued to stare, finally letting out a laugh. “You are unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head. She took a cookie from the tray, still nodding.
“You’re less upset than I thought,” Root replied, her eyebrows knitting in slight confusion.
“I’m annoyed, but that’s the shit I’d pull,” Harper replied, taking a bite. “I took your dumb notes for you, not much happened.”
Root set the tray down, leaning over to grab the pad of paper. She smirked at the random notes Harper wrote down, thinking it’d be relevant to the clues. ‘Ate crunchy fruit= apple? Favorite color red?’
-meeting for man at job about shooting
-unclear if fatalities
-shaw watch tv
-grunted (pain??)
-minimal movement
-daughter and s don't talk a lot
Root nodded, satisfied with the notes. She pulled out her wallet, tossing over a twenty dollar bill.
“Thank you,” she said, “seriously,”
Harper finally grinned, pocketing the cash. “No problem,”
“Can you do this every day for this week? Twenty bucks?” Root offered. “I’m gonna try to convince my boss to let me work from home.” She looked mournfully upward, her eyes softening. “It’s just, y’know, Jason used to sit right there and it’s just too hard to work. At home, at least, it’s familiar and more comforting,” she cried, adding a sniff for good measure. She resumed her grin. “What’d you think? Believable?”
Harper scoffed. “Messed up,” she decided. Root thought about that for a moment, cocking her head to the side and humming in agreement.
Harper grabbed a napkin and began to stack cookies inside, fitting four. She put it in her pocket. “I gotta go - we got a new runner yesterday and I need to give him the run down. See you tomorrow?”
“Aw, and you came all the way out here for me?” Root cooed, placing her hand over her heart. Harper rolled her eyes with a smile.
“How could I refuse you?” Harper teased, heading towards the door. Root followed her.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Root confirmed, unlocking the door for her. “I’ll save you some cookies,”
“My hero,” Harper replied dryly, heading down the street. A smile lingered on Root’s face as she shut the door behind her, waltzing over to the kitchen. She sat on the stool, re-reading the few notes Harper had taken. Bear padded up to her, nudging his head against her shin, whining softly.
“I’ll take you out in a sec,” Root promised, stroking his head. He panted happily in response, licking at her hand.
Root continued staring at the sheet of paper, worry etching into her thoughts. She did need Harper, but now with the threat looming over her and the entire operation’s head, she doubted whether it was worth to risk the woman’s liberty.
This was a feeling she hadn’t felt since she was twelve years old, living back in the Union. Hanna and her had met when they were kids at school. Every day they would make their way to the nearby creek. Hanna would play in the water and Root would skip stones until dinner time came, when Hanna would go back to her house.
Root often spent nights by the creek, huddled up in her fur coat against the below freezing temperatures. The fire she built never was enough, but it was better than staying home and seeing her mother splayed out unconscious on their shared bed, an empty liquor bottle by her hand resting next to Root’s pillow. It had been that way since Root had turned ten and her father died in a factory accident. She had been fragile ever since Root’s brother had died three years earlier at the age of two from pneumonia, but that had sent her over the edge.
After Hanna disappeared on her way home from the creek, Root stopped going. She returned to her home, opting to sleep on the floor by the mice than to breathe in her mother’s rancid breath from drinking too much mixed in with the surrounding air of sweat and vodka. She lay at night wondering what had happened to her friend, wondering who had taken her. She thought of the ways she would make them pay. Root never got closure.
Root swallowed back the lump in her throat. She didn’t want another Hanna, but Harper was coming close.
She stood up from her stool, almost running to the door. She needed fresh air, she needed to distract herself. “C’mon,” she urged, her voice straining. Bear padded up to her, his tongue wagging, oblivious to the turmoil that his owner was facing.
The sun was in the process of setting, casting a deep orange hue amongst the sky. The woman and her dog walked around the neighborhood, and again, and again. The sun fell lower in the sky, the orange replaced by a purple, their shadows growing longer against the concrete sidewalk.
“Hey,” a voice called, so soft Shaw almost didn’t hear it. She glanced up to see Samantha and Bear standing by the front of the path to her house.
Shaw was too drained to get up and leave. Cole wasn’t home yet; he had called earlier that evening to let her know not to wait up. The call was rushed, he seemed busy. She hoped the agents weren’t dead, for his sake.
“Hey,” she replied finally, nodding at the other woman. Taking it as an invitation, Samantha walked up the path, sitting on the porch bench beside her. She mimicked Shaw’s position, hoisting her knees up to her chest, her arms wrapped protectively around them. She rested her chin on her left knee, looking out towards the street. The two woman sat in silence, watching the cars zoom by as husbands returned from work to their wives, ready for dinner.
“You’re quiet today, huh,” Shaw remarked finally, breaking the silence. Samantha smiled, yet it didn’t agree with the pained expression displayed in her eyes.
Shaw continued staring at the other woman. This was a side of her she had only seen glimpses of over the short time in which they had known each other.
“You had a friend over, huh?” Shaw asked. Usually she wasn’t a talker, but she needed something to fill the silence. It was unnerving.
Samantha turned her head to look at the other woman. “Yeah, Harper,” she murmured. “My friend.” It seemed almost bitter how she said it.
“Do you work together?” Shaw tried.
Samantha let out a laugh, too cheerful for her current disposition. “In a sense,” she chuckled.
Shaw nodded, recognizing that the subject was closed. She leaned over and scratched behind the dog’s ears, suddenly needing something to do with her hands.
“What about any of the neighbors? You friends with them?”
Samantha turned to her, raising her eyebrows. “You seriously think I’d be any of their friends?”
“Not all can be bad, right? Some are…” Shaw paused to think of a positive word. “Well-intentioned,” she supplied, wincing even as she said it. Samantha laughed again, her mood seeming to brighten.
“The Reys have been trying to have me over for dinner for ages,” she said finally, going back to staring at the street. “I think they want to do it just so they can say they did. Like, they took me in after Jason’s death, look how kind and compassionate they are!” She cast a wry look at Shaw and added jokingly, “and well intentioned,”
“I keep on telling Genrika to mess up their garden,” Shaw admitted. “Throw rocks into the flower beds, kick mud into it, anything really. I’d do it myself, but I’d probably get caught more easily. I’m small, but not enough to hide behind their flower boxes,”
“Or maybe you’re just scared of the wrath of Nicole Ren,” she teased.
“Maybe,” Shaw agreed. “She’s a force not to be reckoned with. I’ve fought against men twice my size without flinching once-” Shaw stopped, realizing what she had just said. She quickly glanced at the other woman who only seemed to raise an eyebrow at the idea, but nothing more. Shaw hadn’t told her much about her life- a conscious decision- especially things about work. She didn’t tell many people.
Shaw brushed the uneasy feeling aside. She wouldn’t tell her more, but it wasn’t the end of the world if Samantha knew a little bit more about herself, she supposed. Shaw continued talking. “But her? She’s, well…” her voice trailed off. She smiled and chuckled lightly.
“Terrifying,” Samantha laughed, finishing for her. “At a street fair, she told all the wives that the judge for the pie competition was allergic to gluten when he really wasn’t. No one knew what to do- all of their pies ended up crumbling the second the fork hit,”
“So she won?”
“No, I did,” Samantha replied, surprising the other woman. “I saw her go out to pick some strawberries from her garden and snuck in through the open window. I replaced her sugar with salt and ran out before anyone could notice.”
“Where was Tommy? Her kids?”
“In the other room watching TV,” Samantha smirked. She glanced over, raising her eyebrow. “I can be very quiet if I need to be,” she flirted. Shaw shook her head in annoyance, though secretly slightly relieved. She was clearly in a better mood than from before.
The two woman resumed their silence, looking back to the street, the activity dwindling as it got darker. The last bits of daylight shone on the two women; Samantha’s hair looked practically golden in the lighting. She wasn’t who Shaw thought she was, that was for certain.
Shaw blushed as Samantha caught her staring, quickly turning her gaze back towards the road.
“Why’re you out here?” Samantha asked suddenly, her voice as soft as the remaining bits of sunshine that illuminated them.
“Genrika’s at a sleepover with some friend from school. And Cole’s at work. So I’m out here. Waiting, I guess,” Shaw answered with a shrug.
“Didn’t peg you for the type to wait up for your husband, Sameen,”
“I’m not. Usually, at least,” she replied, scanning the road for the familiar pair of headlights. It remained dark. “He just seemed to have a rough day today. I don’t know how he is,”
Samantha nodded alongside her. “He’s a good man,” she said. “Its good he has you to watch his back,”
Shaw sighed. “Maybe,” she replied finally. She was the one causing him stress at work. She shouldn’t’ve shot those men so carelessly, she was just so excited to be back apart of the action again.
They sat in a comfortable silence, watching the neighbors through their windows. They were watching television; they were sitting down to eat at the table; they were fighting in the kitchen in hushed tones to not disturb the kids.
“I’m gonna take Bear home,” Samantha announced, standing up. She glanced down at the smaller woman. “You should stretch out your legs, let them heal,” she advised.
“I almost was a doctor, you know,”
“Then you know its not good to sit on an injury like that,” Samantha replied in a sickly sweet voice.
Shaw slowly turned her body, grunting through the pain shooting through her side, lying down on the bench, propping up her head and her feet with the armrests on each side. She was grateful Samantha hadn’t tried to help her move around. Her legs buzzed as the blood rushed back into them. “You happy?” she asked, no malice despite the tone she took.
Samantha gave her a small smile which leaned to the right side of her face. “Goodnight, Sameen,” she said gently, ignoring the woman’s question.
Shaw nodded, returning her stare.
“Goodnight, Samantha,”
Shaw watched as the other woman and her dog cross the street, safely making it back inside. She turned her attention back towards the road, searching for Cole.