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Shaw reasoned that Root’s injury was, at most, twenty percent her fault.
Thirty percent went to the dumb goon who decided to fire off an RPG indoors, another thirty to the Machine for not properly warning Root and leaving her in the line of fire, ten percent to John for being a baby who got grounded by his captain and couldn’t come for back-up and the final ten percent to Root herself for being so awkward and fragile that even a light shove broke a bone.
A tailbone, to be exact. A vestigial bone as useless as the appendix and apparently just as much a liability.
After Shaw had dealt with their mercenary friends appropriately, she pulled Root back to her feet and dragged her to their exit car. As Shaw sped out of the area, Root sat in the passenger seat with a death grip on the seat and an audible wince every time Shaw made a sudden turn. Shaw tried to focus on the road but she couldn’t help the pang she felt in her gut whenever Root let out a pained groan. It was only afterwards, when Shaw had gingerly helped Root out of the car and into the subway that she noticed the damage that was done.
“Your coccyx is fractured.” Shaw said with the dry detachment of a practiced doctor as she prodded the bruised area around Root’s lower back.
Root was laying on her stomach on the subway cot with her shirt pulled up to her chest and an angry scowl that deepened with every poke. Shaw had offered some morphine as she half-carried Root into the subway but she refused, still sore about needles.
“You don’t say,” Root said.
She earned a harder poke in response and turned her head to glare at Shaw.
“You know, usually I love when you speak through your actions but you really could’ve used your words back there.”
Shaw snorted.
“What was I gonna say? ‘Root, there’s a rocket literally coming towards you, maybe you should duck?’ Blame your Machine for not warning you.” Shaw said, grabbing a gauze pad out of the medkit.
Root sighed, exasperated.
“The building was a camera dead zone so She couldn’t see anything and She’s still not at one hundred percent.”
“Fine. Sorry for saving your life.” Shaw said with an eye roll.
Root scoffed in response and they spent the next few minutes in angry silence. When she finished patching Root up, she glared at the back of Root’s head before standing up and storming out of the subway. The cold stung her eyes as she walked against the wind and regretted leaving her jacket in the subway. She wasn’t headed in any particular direction besides ‘away from Root’ and after fifteen minutes of struggling against the New York cold, she stopped and sighed.
When Shaw returned to the subway, she found Root curled up on the cot, pretending to be asleep. With slow, hesitant steps, she walked up to the bed.
“Here.” Shaw said, holding out a bottle of water and some painkillers.
Root turned around slowly with a grimace and eyed the offerings.
“They’re no morphine but they’ll get the job done.” She said.
Root winced as she made an attempt to sit up and Shaw half-heartedly rolled her eyes before kneeling down beside the bed and uncapping the water bottle. Root looked genuinely shocked as Shaw shoved the painkillers in her hand and held the bottle expectantly.
“I’m sorry.” Shaw said.
Root stared at her uselessly and swallowed the painkillers before she leaned forward slightly so Shaw could bring the bottle to her lips.
“Don’t.” Shaw warned as she pulled the bottle away.
Root swallowed (the water and the comment on her tongue) and nodded. Shaw put the bottle on the floor and turned to walk out the subway.
“Sameen.” Root called out.
Shaw stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Thank you.” Root said.
Shaw paused for a second and then continued to walk away and out of the subway.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Shaw asked from the bottom of the subway stairs. Root was seated on the cot buttoning up her shirt.
“She needs me in Toyko.” She said without looking up at her.
Shaw scoffed incredulously, “She knows your tailbone’s broken, right?"
Root ignored her and stood up with an audible wince, holding onto the wall for dear life. After a few seconds, she let out a shaky breath and limped slowly to the train car.
“You’re insane, you know that?” Shaw asked, storming into the train car.
“I’ve been told.” Root grinned, though it looked more like a grimace.
“How are you of any use to the Machine right now? You can barely walk,” Shaw said, “You should be resting.”
Root smiled at the handgun she was loading.
“I’m fine, Sam. She needs me.”
Shaw stared at her in disbelief.
“No, you’re not.”
To Root’s surprise, Shaw walked away from her and to Harold’s computers. She leaned down and glared into the webcam.
“Can you hear me?” Shaw asked. When no answer came, she continued, “Root isn’t going anywhere right now. I know you know she’s hurt so stop fucking around and find someone else.”
Shaw looked at Root who seemingly had an argument on the tip of her tongue before she was interrupted by a text box appearing on screen.
Understood.
Shaw nodded at nothing, a little surprised that it actually worked. She stood up to full height and turned back to Root.
“Get back to bed. I’ll bring you breakfast and some more painkillers.” She said, pulling the gun out of Root’s hands and disassembling it.
Root stared at her before looking at the webcam.
“What about the number?” She asked. Instantly, a message appeared on screen.
Asset John Reese activated.
Shaw looked at the screen and then at Root who was smirking, seemingly happy that John’s day off was just ruined.
“C’mon, you should lay down.” She said.
Root rubbed at her back, hesitating to leave the train car.
“I think that cot is doing me more harm than good.”
Shaw grinned, intimately aware of how uncomfortable the cot was. She had it on good authority that Bear’s bed was more comfortable and it definitely wasn’t because she tested it.
“You can sleep at my place,” Shaw said, and at the hopeful glint in Root’s eyes, “and only sleep, Root. A broken tailbone is too much of an obstacle, even for you.”
“You don’t know that.”
Root shrugged and followed Shaw out of the train car and the subway. Root’s limp the longer they walked, her face was contorted in pain which wasn’t aided by the cold. Shaw felt the pull of a protective instinct, uncomfortable with seeing Root in such obvious pain. In one smooth motion, she drew an arm around Root’s waist and pulled her closer, allowing Root to lean on her slightly.
Root looked at her in shock but Shaw refused to return her gaze, choosing to stare in front of them instead. They walked in silence for a few more seconds before Root laid her arm over Shaw’s shoulders and smiled, the pain not as bad any more.
“Absolutely not.”
“Ms. Shaw w-“
“It’s not happening, find someone else. Get one of the nerdlings to do it.”
“Root’s the only one who can do it, Shaw. It’ll be simple, in and out.” Reese said.
Shaw glared at Reese and Finch as they stood awkwardly in her doorway. After ignoring fifteen texts and twelve calls and throwing Root’s phone off a balcony, they had shown up to her apartment.
“She’s on leave.” Shaw said with a hand on the door, half tempted to slam it in their face for invading her personal space.
“We understand that but we could really use her assistance for this number.” Finch said, desperation coloring his voice.
The rebuttal on Shaw’s tongue was drowned out by a voice behind her.
“It’s okay, Shaw.”
Shaw turned around. Root had been holed up in her apartment for almost a week, healing slowly but surely. Shaw had basically confined her to bedrest and brought her everything she needed to stay there. Any time she had to stand up for something that Shaw couldn’t take care of herself, Shaw would put an arm around Root and assist her as well as she could. When Root had to bathe, Shaw would follow her into the bathroom and wash Root’s hair all the while Root wouldn’t say anything, apparently still wary of Shaw’s first warning. If Root had trouble sleeping or her back was feeling particularly sore, Shaw would curl up against her and rub slow circles into her back until Root fell asleep.
Shaw reasoned she was only doing what was expected of her for Root’s recovery; she still had the instincts of a doctor and Root was just another one of her patients. She concluded that the uncomfortable churning in her gut she felt when she saw or thought of Root in pain was guilt for the (tiny, miniscule) part she had in the accident.
“I won’t let anything happen, Shaw.” Reese said, pulling Shaw from her reverie.
Shaw took another look at Root, dressed in one of Shaw’s baggier hoodies, and sighed.
“Fine,” She pushed past Root on her to the refrigerator, “but I’m coming too.”
“What’s your twenty, Reese?”
Shaw stared down the scope of the rifle as she tried to catch a glimpse of Reese and Root in the windows.
“Relax, Shaw. We’re on our way up now.”
Shaw rolled her eyes are Reese response, her retort only cut off by a glimpse of Root’s wavy hair in the window. The corporate building that housed their number had a surprisingly strict security policy which meant that the only way Root could go in was with a police escort.
Hence, Reese following closely behind Root and Shaw angrily watch with a sniper rifle on a neighboring building. Shaw watched them walk into the number’s office, Root throwing a small ‘wink’ out the window to Shaw. Shaw repressed an eye roll and watched as Root bent over the computer and started typing away. Shaw looked to Reese standing beside the barely open door, his eyes glued to his phone.
“Eyes on the door, Reese.” Shaw warned.
Reese looked up and out the window, smirking at nothing.
“Worrying about your girl, Shaw?”
Shaw grumbled and aimed the scope at Reese’s pieces.
“I’d be more worried about you right now.”
The smirk melted off Reese face instantly as if he sensed the threat and he refocused on the door. Shaw grinned, she still had it.
“Done yet, Root?”
“Are you that eager to get me in bed, Shaw?”
She could hear the smirk in Root’s voice.
“I’m eager for lunch.” Shaw said, not convincing anyone.
“Sure, Sameen.”
Shaw panned away from Root just in time to see a man, their number, storming towards the office from the other side of the building. He was close enough that they wouldn’t have time to leave the room. Shaw readjusted her grip on the rifle and took point.
“You guys are about to have company.”
She saw Reese tense up and lift his gun to the door. Root typed into the computer for a few more seconds before pulling up and limping towards Reese. It took Shaw a few seconds to realize that Root did not faint on top of Reese, but rather pushed him into the wall, pressed their bodies together and…
Shaw’s finger tightened on the trigger. She was not the jealous type, she was not the jealous type, she was not the…
Goddamn it.
“You two having fun?” She asked through a clenched jaw.
Before Root could pull her mouth away from Reese’s to answer, the office door burst open and their number walked through. Shaw could hear his surprise through the comms over the sound of Root and Reese making out.
“What the hell?”
Root pulled away (Shaw’s grip loosened) and giggled.
“Excuse us, we were just looking for somewhere to…talk.”
She turned back to Reese with a cheeky grin. Reese was frozen against the wall, a thousand yard stare on his face.
The number grumbled something unintelligible and walked to his computer, leaning forward and pressing a few keys. Shaw’s eyes were glued to Root who impossibly seemed to be holding her gaze with a look that begged the question “what are you going to do about it?”
What happened next was, at least, sixty percent Shaw’s fault (though she would never admit it).
Their number, having found something suspicious on his computer, stood to full height, pulled a gun from his jacket and took a shot at Root. Time slowed down and as Shaw readjusted her aim, Reese managed to snap out of his shock and push Root out of the line of fire, getting slightly clipped himself. Shaw didn’t hesitate further, putting two the guy’s shoulders and one in his arm for good measure.
He fell to the floor but Shaw wasn’t concerned with him anymore as she pointed the scope back at Root. Root, who was also laid out on the floor, had a noticeable pained expression on her face and a hand on her lower back.
“Goddamn it, Reese.” Shaw said, thinking goddamn it, Shaw instead.
Sirens blared and the building began to evacuate at the sound of gunshots and broken glass. Shaw watched Reese lean down and pull Root up by the arm, trying to get her out with the commotion. Root flinched and the uncomfortable churn in Shaw’s stomach turned violent.
(Latently, she realized the feeling wasn’t guilt but something else entirely. She shoved the feeling and its accompanying intruding thoughts in the back of her head where it was nice and ignorable.)
Reese managed to get Root to her feet and helped her walk out of the office door and into the hallway, he mumbled something about securing the number and stayed behind in the office.
“Mission accomplished.” Reese said into the comms.
Shaw readjusted the grip on the rifle, took aim at Reese’s head and fired.
She cherished the next few seconds of pure, shocked silence.
“Was that for pushing Root?” He asked, frozen three inches away from a bullet pierced wall.
“Uh huh.” Shaw replied, feeling better already.
“Fair enough.”
Shaw poked at the bruise on Root’s back, earning a hard buck and a scowl from beneath her.
“It’s healing.” Shaw said from her position straddling Root’s waist. She drew her oil-slicked hands back up to Root’s shoulders, massaging the muscles.
Root made a satisfied noise in the back of her throat and closed her eyes. It had been four weeks since Root initially broke her tailbone and she was steadily healing, only a few more away from being her annoying old self.
“It feels better.” Root said, “But…”
Shaw lifted her hips so Root could turn around. She laid on her back, her arms drawn behind her head and a too satisfied grin on her face.
“I’m still in a lot of pain.”
Shaw would’ve rolled her eyes there but they were currently glued to Root’s bare chest. Root took Shaw’s hand in her own and drew it down her stomach to her underwear covered crotch.
“I could really use your assistance here, Dr. Shaw.”
Shaw snorted. Roleplaying was surprisingly not a common thing in their bedroom despite Root’s proclivity for identity changing and her vast, occupation-based wardrobe. Most of the time, it would either end up with Shaw refusing to participate or Root in an uncontrollable fit of giggles when Shaw did participate.
“I don’t think that’s a medical condition, Root.” Shaw said, hooking a finger in Root’s underwear and pulling it down to her calves.
“It really hurts, Shaw,” Root said, her voice gaining pitch as Shaw’s hand wandered back up, “and when I get that feeling…”
Shaw stopped to look Root in the eyes.
“Do not.”
Root grinned.
“I need…sexual healing.”
Shaw managed to roll her eyes this time as Root’s muffled laughter abruptly cut off with a thrust of her hand.
Afterwards, when they were both sweaty and sated, Root ran her fingers through Shaw's hair and broke the silence.
"You know, if it'll be anything like these past four weeks," She looked at Shaw, "I'm think I should let you injure me more often."
Shaw pushed Root's hand away and rolled onto her side to hide the grin on her face.
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Root."