Chapter Text
Ever since she was a child, Samantha Groves considered herself a seeker of the truth. Growing up in a small town in Texas, she built a reputation among her teachers and classmates as always the honest Sam. It didn't matter the circumstance, the truth was the most important thing to her. She exposed those who cheated on tests, cut class, or even those who bullied others. Of course, this made her quite unpopular, and the kids called her names like Sam the Snitch, or The Rat.
One night at the library, when she saw her only friend being lured into the car of a local man, she immediately reported the incident to the nearest adult. She expected the librarian to believe her accusations, after all, Sam never lied. But instead she scolded her, saying that this was just a way for her to keep getting attention.
A few weeks later, they found Hanna's body.
At first, she couldn't help feel partially responsible for her friends death. But after reading the news report, she realized that it was the adults who were the blame. The ones that considered her just an attention seeking little girl, trying to be noticed by the grown ups. Telling the truth was no longer her friend, and the only way to make this right was by turning to lies.
Sam used her considerable computer skills to expose the man for killing for friend, leaking the information to the police who successfully arrested him for the crime. Afterwards, she wrote a newspaper article detailing the incident, as well as the incompetency of the local police. As well, she included details of the man's previous transgressions, ones that he apparently thought were buried.
Not wanting the local PD to know it was her that set everything in motion, her article was submitted anonymously. Of course, what she wrote never ended up being published, likely to protect the image of law enforcement. The truth had always been there before, yet no one cared to listen. She felt a fundamental change within herself, one that had become necessary. Sam had to become someone else, someone who used lying to get what she wanted. It worked much better than honesty, and she decided to leave The Rat behind, and started calling herself Root.
When her ill mother passed, the final piece of Samantha Groves had died along with her, Root decided. And she left behind that hic town and everyone in it. She used her skills to expose lying scumbags that hurt other people, or used their position to benefit themselves.
Thankful that computers were on the rise, Root was eventually able to start a blog where she would write her exposé pieces on the disgusting humans that littered the world around her. She would easily hack into banks, emails, and security cameras to get the dirt she needed and then write a piece to match. It became quite popular and she liked to think of it as their punishment for lying. She even broke stories before some high level newspapers did.
Eventually, however, the law caught up with her and she was arrested in New York City for cyber crimes. While she awaited her transport to the prison, she was visited by a man claiming to be her uncle, Harold Finch. He explained that he respected her ability to get to the truth no matter what, but the means she used were less than desirable. He offered to use his money and influence to have her released, if she agreed to shut down her blog and come to work for him at his newspaper, writing articles the right way, with 'journalistic integrity', he called it.
Go to prison, or go back on the straight and narrow? The choice was easy. Though she had come to enjoy the thrill of, well, crime, she vowed to work hard to shift back into a decent person.
Harold gave her a new name, and a new purpose. Though she still preferred Root, the rest of the world would come to know her as Robin Farrow. She moved to New York City after being released and began her life yet again. Harold helped her to see how not everyone was bad code, and eventually she found her place at New York Inquisitor, all but forgetting her brief streak of deviousness. Or, she thought she had.
Being a real journalist was hard. People didn't tell her anything, deadlines were always looming, and her co-workers thought she was crazy. It wasn't like before when she could just threaten the people until they told her what she needed for a story, or better yet just go into their computer and get the details herself. She dropped the ball on a lot of big stories as a result of her not being adjusted to this kind of work and she was eventually demoted all the way to the basement of the building, working the least satisfying stories imaginable:
The oldest resident in NYC celebrates their birthday.
Another library is closed.
Local restaurant gets a new sign.
It was mind numbing.
Although she appreciated Harold taking her in and giving her this chance, she couldn't take much more of the nonsense when there was actual crimes that she could be exposing.
Before she could fall back into her old ways, however, Harold had come down to the bullpen with some very interesting news. Apparently the Inquisitor was doing some kind of joint project with the NYPD, the goal being offering a more “real look” at what the police force handles in one of the most dangerous cities in the world. A few reporters would be assigned to a police officer or detective, they would shadow them as they worked and write news articles on cases as they happened. In turn, the officers would come to appreciate how much work goes into keeping up with everything going on in New York. For the first time in years, Root was actually excited about her job.
She sat at her desk staring at the phone, eager to be called upstairs to meet her partner, absently tapping her pen while she waited. When it finally rang, she was so excited (nervous?) that she fumbled with the receiver, nearly dropping it back down into the cradle.
“Oh! Sorry, Harry. Hello,” she stammered.
“Good day, Robin. Would you mind coming up to my office? ”
“I'll be right there,” in her haste to walk from her desk, she forgot to put the phone back down and nearly pulled the entire line along with her. Shaking her head at herself, she put everything back in place and headed for the elevator.
She pressed the button for floor 20 and it began ascent. She didn't often ride the elevator, since she mainly traveled the short distance from the main floor to the basement, but she certainly wasn't going to walk up twenty flights. The lift ended up stopping on the main floor anyway, and Root's stomach fluttered at the unfamiliar woman who stepped through the doors.
To say she was stunning would be the understatement of the century. Petite, but obviously very fit, Root would almost describe the woman as a shadow. Tanned skin, with her brown hair tied back, and eyes dark... menacing, even. She wore jeans, booted heels, a plain shirt, and leather jacket, all black, of course. Root saw the gold and blue shield on her belt as she turned to press the close button on the elevator, and it was hard to miss the gun and holster on her hip. She never found the presence of another person so captivating.
“You got a problem?”
And she was staring. Crap.
“Sorry I-” she pushed her glasses up higher. “I just haven't seen you here before.”
“Because I haven't been here before.”
Right.
Root looked up at the display, and the elevator had only reached the 7th floor. The woman remained impassive in her stance and kept her gaze forward.
“I'm Root,” she turned her head, but the other woman was motionless. “I work in the basement.”
Though very slight, the detective rolled her eyes. “Good for you.”
Root nodded to herself and faced forward again, watching as the elevator ticked up to 20 in silence.
Once the doors opened, the mystery cop could not leave fast enough. Root stepped out slowly, and took a moment to collect herself, briefly leaning against the wall before starting towards Harold's office.
She knocked twice and pushed the gold and brown doors open. “You wanted to see me, Harry?”
“Yes, Robin. Come in.”
Harold Finch stood from the large oak desk and gestured for her to enter. He wore his typical three-piece suit, and had rectangular glasses on his face. Root didn't notice right away, but there was another person sitting across from him. When they turned Root's heart leaped up into her throat, it was the attractive detective that she'd just seen in the elevator. Her dark eyes hardened in recognition.
Finch ushered her forward, and soon the three faced each other in the office proper. “This is detective Sameen Shaw of the NYPD. She will be your partner for the next few days during our joint venture with the department. Detective Shaw, this is my niece, Robin Farrow.”
“We've met,” Shaw held her hand out, Root grasped it and couldn't suppress the small yelp that escaped when the detective squeezed much harder than necessary.
“Wonderful,” Harold put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Robin, would you mind setting up the detective's computer? Our regular technician is otherwise occupied.”
Shaw finally let go of Root, but her piercing stare remained in place. Quite frankly, she would probably be very intimidated if she wasn't so entranced.
“S-Sure,” she cleared her throat. “I mean, yes. Absolutely,” Harold patted both their arms and gestured towards the door.
“Please let me know if you require anything else, detective.”
They exited his office together, and the walk back to the elevator bank was made without a word. Shaw pressed the button to call the lift back up when they arrived. There seemed to be so much tension in the way Shaw carried herself, obviously not thrilled with the operation. The silence was becoming unbearable, so Root tried to break it with conversation. Maybe she could charm the detective's bad mood away?
“I'm looking forward to working with you, Sameen.”
“It's Shaw,” she replied curtly.
Or maybe not.
“Sorry,” she rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassment making her feel warm. “Shaw, then.”
The detective pressed the elevator button several more times and the door finally dinged open. Both women stepped through together, and Root selected the basement level.
“We're going to have so much fun together.”
Shaw leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, and Root could hear her softly banging her head against it.
A whole week with each other... how bad could it be?