Shoot Winterfest

"I can hurt you."

"That's how you get on Santa's naughty list."

In the back seat, Bear whined.

"See? Bear hates it. Change the station."

"It's Christmas Eve."

"Who cares?"

She reached out to change the station, but Reese held his hand over the stereo to stop her. She thought about breaking one of his fingers, but then she'd have to listen to him complain about that while they waited. Without meaning to, she glanced down at the little clock just below where Reese's hand was. Eight twenty-three. Root had said to pick her up at eight.

"You how what? Fine. Put on whatever you want. I'm going to go find Root and drag her down all forty floors of this damn building."

"So you are worried about her then."

"No."

Shaw climbed out of the car and then stuck her head back in so she could address the remaining occupants.

"I'll be back in a few minutes, so just keep him out of trouble while I'm gone."

"I'll keep an eye on him," Reese promised, reaching into the backseat to pat Bear on the head.

"I was talking to Bear." Shaw shut the door to cut off Reese's protest and turned to go.

She wasn't worried about Root. Not yet anyway. It was a simple number: keep an eye on some business CEO lady at her office holiday party. The Machine had been vague about the details, but that was nothing new. Maybe Root was trying to make Shaw come look for her. If that proved to be the case, she'd have to deal with both Root and Reese making snide remarks about her worrying the whole drive back.

She jabbed violently at the elevator button and glared at the doors until the elevator car arrived.

___________________

Root sulked in silence. She wasn't mad about Ricky from the marketing department who'd kept coming on to her half the night (he was currently unconscious and folded up in a closet full of cleaning supplies down the hall), nor was she mad that Judy from customer support had spilled fruit punch on her amazing new Christmas sweater (the punch had only gotten on the sleeve fortunately, which meant the small taser she'd hidden in the enormous stuffed reindeer head that was mounted on the front of the sweater hadn't gotten wet). She wasn't even mad about the armed men who had invaded the holiday party and made all of them sit on the floor in the middle of the conference room.

No, she was mad because she wasn't allowed to go and do horrible and unpleasant things to the party crashers because someone was worried one of the hostages might get hurt in the process. The Machine wasn't letting her have any fun today.

"Do you think they're going to kill us?" the terrified man next to her asked.

"Probably," Root said, distracted by one of their captors who was doing something vaguely interesting with the computer in the next room. She craned her neck to try and see across the hall better.

The man next to her wailed in panic and Root sighed.

"He'd probably be better off unconscious," she said quietly, hoping the Machine would take pity on her and let her tase him. But no, apparently tasing terrified civilians was not allowed. Not even for Christmas.

She ignored the Machine's suggestion that she try to calm the man down and instead inched away from him to try and get a better look at what was going on across the hall. Just what were these guys after here?

___________________

Shaw had imagined a lot of possible outcomes from her trip to rescue Root--though mostly she'd imagined Root 'apologizing' to her in an empty office while Reese had to wait and freeze to death in the car--but she definitely hadn't imagined that she'd find herself crawling on her stomach through an air vent shaft above the head of a heavily armed man.

Her side trip had started with the elevator coming to an abrupt halt between the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth floors. She'd been annoyed, but not concerned. Until the gunfire had started. Gunfire that definitely didn't sound like the small pistol she knew Root had on her. She'd brightened: maybe this wasn't a wasted trip after all.

The problem of being stuck in an immobile elevator had remained though and she'd been forced to improvise. In this case, improvising had meant climbing out a hatch onto the top of the elevator and prying off the cover of a vent on the wall slightly above her. Her heavy winter coat had been too large to fit in the vent, so she'd left it behind. Also left behind had been the horrible, ugly Christmas sweater she'd had on under it (the only thing that had made it tolerable was Reese had to wear one as well since he'd also lost a bet to Root). It was a shame that the sweater would probably never be recovered from the depths of the elevator shaft which she had gleefully flung it down, but surely Root couldn't blame her for losing it under the circumstances.

The black tank top she'd had on under all that wouldn't keep her warm outside, but it wouldn't get snagged in an air duct either. And it looked much better on her than the sweater had.

And then, after crawling through the metal vent for what felt like a million years, she'd finally seen a grate in the side of it that looked down into a room below. Which was where she saw the man with all the guns.

She couldn't hear everything he said over his little radio communicator, but she did pick up enough to get the general impression that there were multiple armed men here and some of them had been sent to sweep the floors above and below where the main group was. Which of course meant the main group was on the same floor as Root's stupid party because of course it was. The building was supposed to be empty other than for the party, she learned as she listened, and with the power to the elevators cut off no one could get up to the thirtieth floor (where the party was) without taking the stairs.

What she didn't get out of it was what the group was after, though for the moment that didn't matter too much.

She waited until the man walked past her position just a bit and then knocked the grate out with one hard kick and sprang out of the vent like a panther leaping on its prey. The man let out a very unprofessional shriek when she landed on him, and she shut him up by choking him unconscious with the strap from his gun. Her gun now.

The radio communicator, which had fallen on the ground when she'd pounced, crackled to life.

"What's going on down there? I'm sending backup."

Shaw ignored the radio in favor of looting the unconscious man for weaponry. There was a very nice combat knife strapped to his ankle that she inspected with satisfaction.

"Guess I made Santa's nice list after all," she said to herself as she tucked the knife away.

Her eyes fell on the bag the man had been carrying. Now what would an armed thug be carrying around in a bag with him? She unzipped it.

"Well, Merry Christmas to me."

Other than the disturbing amount of C4 in the bag, there was also a spare earpiece communication device of some sort that wouldn't do her much good on its own. Or wouldn't if she didn't have the world's most powerful AI on her side who was hopefully paying attention.

"Can you call Reese on this thing?" she asked as she put the earpiece in. She'd call Root next, but she wanted Reese to get his ass in gear and give her some backup first.

There was some static on the line and then the sound of a phone ringing.

___________________

"It suits you very well," Reese said as he adjusted the headband on Bear. It had been hard to get the red puffball to stay on Bear's nose, but the fake antlers had fit him perfectly and he looked very handsome in his festive cape. And more importantly, Shaw would hate it.

Up in the front seat, the radio blared Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and drowned out the sound of a cell phone vibrating in the cup holder.

___________________

"What the fuck is he doing? Fine. Whatever. Put me through to Root."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs drew Shaw's attention. At least two, probably three, and somehow she doubted they'd come down to invite her to the party.

"Hold that thought for one second," she told the Machine. "Gotta go serve some holiday punch."

___________________

Root was suffering horribly. She'd finally managed to get herself into a good position to watch the man at the computer across the hall, and she could now clearly see that he was trying to hack into the system here, undoubtedly to gain access to some of the company accounts or something equally boring and unoriginal.

The problem she was having though was that he was terrible at his job and she had to sit there quietly and watch him fumble about like he'd never broken into the servers of a security technology company before. Pathetic. It was all she could do to stop herself from going over there and ripping the keyboard away from him and doing it herself.

She was weighing the pros and cons of doing just that when the leader of the group walked by having a frantic conversation with one of the other men. The fact they were speaking in German would have been an issue if the Machine hadn't helpfully translated it all for her.

Apparently they'd lost contact with the three men they'd sent to look into a disturbance on the floor below and they needed to start the elevators again so their backup on the third floor could reach them.

A disturbance. Root smiled. She knew exactly what sort of disturbance could take down three armed men with no effort.

With perfect timing, a voice that wasn't the Machine's whispered in Root's ear. "Root? You there?"

Root moved a little further away from the others and lowered her voice. "Hey, sweetie. I hear you're having fun."

"What the hell is going on up there?"

"Oh, the usual. They're just after money. But Shaw, the hacker they brought with them is terrible. You wouldn't believe what he's--"

"Root. Focus. What's your situation like there?"

"There's only a few men left here besides the leader but they're going to restart the elevators to bring up more people from the third floor."

"The elevators, huh?" There was some rustling over the line. "Say, Root, can the Machine confirm that there's no one else in the building below us other than the bad guys?"

"She says there isn't. Why? What're you going to do?"

"You'll see. Or hear."

And then Shaw was gone leaving Root still stuck in a room full of useless hostages and idiotic thieves. Why did Shaw get to have all the fun?

"This whole sitting here doing nothing thing isn't really working for me," she told the Machine, "so unless you have a bet--"

A deafening boom roared through the room and the entire building shook. Overhead the emergency sprinklers switched on, drenching the already panicked hostages. The man in charge of the thieves and one of his men were yelling at each other in German again and waving their guns around.

They were, the Machine informed her, going to take the hostages up to the top floor and leave the hacker and one or two guards behind here to finish the job.

"Sounds like it's my turn to have some fun then."

And finally the Machine agreed with her.

___________________

In the five minutes between hearing footsteps on the stairs and calling Root, Shaw had incapacitated all three men who'd come to find her. One of the men now had a broken arm, another a broken nose and three less teeth, and the last one had a few minor stab wounds he'd most likely survive.

Shaw had an exciting array of cuts and bruises, and a bullet graze on one arm that wasn't serious but did bleed an annoying amount. But more importantly she had a captive audience (literally) to watch her strap the C4 she'd found to an office chair. She'd gagged all the men when she'd tied them up of course, but she could see the sheer terror in their eyes at the sight of all the plastic explosives in her hands.

It took a lot of effort to pry apart the doors to the elevator shaft and brace them open with a metal pipe. Way down below she could see an elevator car descending to pick up the backup that Root had managed. Just in time.

There were probably other ways to stop the elevator, but Shaw had been shot, punched, and skinned both her elbows in the vents. Also she'd ripped her second most favorite tank top. There would be no mercy today. Especially not for the Christmas sweater that was undoubtedly still in the elevator shaft somewhere.

"You can't do that!" One of her prisoners had somehow spit out his gag. "You'll bring the whole building down with us in it!"

Shaw grinned at him as she wheeled the chair of C4 over to the elevator and held it balancing on the edge.

"Yippee ki yay, motherfucker," she said with a wink. And then she let go of the chair.

___________________

"In here, Shaw," Root called without turning around.

"Yeah, you left a trail of unconscious bodies leading right to you," said Shaw from behind her. "How'd the one guy end up hanging from the ceiling fan anyway? And what are you doing on there?"

Root didn't look away from the computer screen. "They were trying to hack in, but Leeroy here is very bad at his job." She gestured at the hacker tied to the chair next to her. "I'm giving him a free demonstration on how to do his job. He should be thanking me." Which he might have been able to do if he hadn't passed out in terror when she'd threatened him with her taser earlier. It wasn't her fault that he was missing out. "This server was cut off from any external network before, but I've given the Machine access now. Might come in handy. You never know."

"Uh-huh, and what happened to all the hostages?"

Root finally looked away from the screen and forgot what she'd been going to say when she caught sight of Shaw. The blood, the sweat, the ripped tank top, messy hair, and bare arms. This was definitely what she'd asked Santa for. Her glasses were in serious danger of fogging up.

"Root? The hostages?"

"Hmm? Oh, them. I locked them out on the roof. They were loud." And then at Shaw's disbelieving look she added, "Well, I did deal with all the bad guys first so it's not like they're really in danger and the Machine has helicopters en route to come rescue them before they freeze to death." It wasn't like she'd left them out there without their coats or anything. She wasn't heartless!

"So are we done here then? Because I think the NYPD are probably going to be crawling all over here looking for whoever blew out all the windows on the ten lowest floors of the building."

"The Machine is taking care of that as well. We'll be gone before they get here." But Shaw was probably right and they should leave. She got up and straightened out her clothes, which drew her attention to the fact that Shaw did not have on the sweater she'd agreed to wear tonight. "What happened to your sweater, Shaw?"

"Tragic accident. Couldn't be avoided. Next time don't make me wait twenty minutes in the car with Reese and maybe the sweater will survive."

"We'll see about that." She had extras back in their apartment.

They had to take the stairs back down through the ruined building since the elevators were...no longer in service and Root spent the long walk down enjoying the view of Shaw's back and arms. Sure this hadn't been the smoothest number they'd ever handled, but the important thing was they'd both had fun.

And maybe, she thought as she watched Shaw pause on a stair landing and use her shirt tail to wipe some sweat off her face, they had just enough time for a little more fun. Making out in a stairwell hadn't been where she'd expected her day to end up, but the Machine had chosen her for her ability to adapt and improvise so she gave it her all. And while the remnants of the flames from the earlier explosion still flickering around them weren't really the same as a yule log in the hearth, it still felt very seasonal.

Even the stuffed reindeer head on her shirt that kept jabbing Shaw in the stomach when they kissed couldn't ruin the moment.

___________________

"What happened to your sweater?" Reese asked right as Shaw asked, "What the hell happened to my dog?"

To make matters worse, Root was already taking pictures of Bear with her phone which meant the humiliating reindeer cosplay Reese had forced on Bear was being immortalized. Shaw resolved to steal Root's phone later and delete the evidence.

"I got a text I'm assuming was from the Machine that told me not to worry about the rather large explosion in the building I'm parked under," Reese said. "Why do I always miss all the fun?"

"That's what you get for making me listen to shitty music," Shaw said as she opened the door to let Bear back into the car. "Also, you're too tall to crawl through air ducts. Let's get out of here before someone shows up asking questions."

She figured she had a few more hours before all the excitement from the day wore off and she started feeling all the bruises she'd gotten, and she planned to make good use of that time. Getting Root out of the goddamn reindeer sweater was definitely a top priority for multiple reasons.

"Didn't expect Christmas Eve to end with a bang," Reese said as they drove away.

Root piped up from the backseat. "Actually the banging hasn't start--"

Blinking slowly, Samantha looked around in confusion. The space under the Christmas tree was glaringly empty and her stocking hung limply from the wall where her mother had tacked it weeks before. Rubbing her eyes to get the sleep out and half-hoping it would change what she’d seen, she frowned when the room remained empty of gifts. 

Taking a seat on the couch, Samantha solemnly stared at the Christmas tree with cold eyes, cataloging what she knew in her mind. Always a precocious child, she was well-aware that her mother wasn’t like other moms. She had always liked to hit and scream at Samantha for things she didn’t understand and over the past year, she had started to drink a funny-smelling liquid that had made her even meaner. 

Still, for all of her mother’s flaws, Samantha had never woken up on Christmas morning without a single gift under the tree or in her stocking before and her jaw tightened as she resolved with bitter disappointment that it was better to never expect things of people and that Christmas was a stupid holiday anyway. 

She spent the day taking down all of the decorations and the Christmas tree that seemed to mock her with the empty space beneath its’ branches every time she looked its’ way. Only fear of her mother’s punishment and knowing that she would be the one forced to clean up the mess kept Samantha from doing what she wanted and smashing every stupid, fragile ornament across the ground until the tree looked as empty as she felt. 

When she’d finished, she retreated to her bedroom and lay back down on her bed. Taking a deep breath, she pulled the sloppily wrapped package from under her pillow and turned it over in her hands, a hollow feeling settling in the pit of her stomach as she stared at the name tag. 

To: Mom

Love: Samantha

Her eyes stinging with tears that felt hot as they ran down her cheeks, she ripped open the present and glared at the picture frame that she had made herself during the little downtime she had between homework, keeping the house spotless and trying her best to take care of her mom. When Hanna’s family had taken her to Corpus Christi with them, Samantha had spent most of the precious few days combing the beach for the most beautiful shells in her mother’s favorite colors and, upon returning home, she had spent hours painstakingly decorating the frame so that none of the original frame could be seen for the shells.

Inside the frame was a photo of Samantha with her mother from the previous Christmas. Hanna had come over for Christmas dinner and she’d been the one to take the photo of the two of them. They were posing in front of the Christmas tree with her mother’s arms wrapped around her and beaming smiles on both of their faces. But what drew Samantha’s attention in the photo today was the pile of presents she could see scattered on the floor behind them and the reminder of the emptiness she’d awoken to today so filled her with rage that she screamed; a loud, primal sound that frightened her but also felt good. 

Pulling her arm back, Samantha gave in to the rage filling her body and threw the picture frame across the room as she could. She felt a thrill of satisfaction fill her only to be followed by a pang of regret that twisted in her stomach as she watched the frame shatter into pieces. Shells flew everywhere as all of her hard work came undone in an instant, but Samantha brushed away the thought and clung instead to the rage.

Puling her knees up to her chest, she rested her chin on them and stared at the shattered remnants of her mother’s now-ruined Christmas present and tried to ignore everything she was feeling as she waited for the stupid day to be over with. She stayed in that position until the shadows enveloped the room and she finally deemed it late enough to go to bed. 

 Only after she had brushed her teeth and crawled back under the covers did she realize that her mother had never come home. 

Although it wasn’t the first time that she’d left Samantha on her own overnight, she had never stayed gone for quite so long and it was with a sinking feeling in her chest that she thought that this was the start of something bad, something worse than she’d already been experiencing. 

Samantha had no idea how right she was. 

II.

After her first Christmas alone, Sam had never had to spend one in an empty house again. All she’d had to do was say one word to Hanna and her friend had made sure that she always came to her house on Christmas and Hanna’s parents always made sure that she had presents and a stocking filled to the brim. 

It was something that she’d never quite taken for granted but she’d certainly never thought that she would lose it.

But when Sam Groves woke up on her thirteenth Christmas, it was to a cold, empty house and an even colder realization that there would be no more Christmases with Hanna. The Freys could hardly even bear to look at her anymore and although she understood, it was just one more loss to add to her ever-growing collection; just one more reason for her to tell herself that it was better not to trust anyone and that way, she wouldn’t be disappointed when they eventually let her down. 

Slowly climbing out of bed, Sam went to her window and silently gazed out. The sun was shining brightly and if not for the chill in the air, she might have been able to pretend that it was summer outside. For a moment, she desperately wished that she could pretend, that she could ignore this holiday altogether and pretend like it was any other day.

Stifling the pang in her chest, she sharply turned away from the window and sat down at her computer. Powering it on, her fingers flew across the keyboard as she typed in her password and then the code she’d written that allowed her to access the hard drive, having realized that she needed far more security for the activities she’d started to immerse herself in already. 

Once she was in and connected to the internet through less-than-legal means, she pulled up Trent Russel’s bank account information and scrutinized it carefully. Though it had been mere months since Hanna had disappeared with him, Sam had grown impatient with the lack of movement to arrest the perpetrator and so she had resolved that she would have to handle the justice side of things herself. 

She’d thought of the perfect plan, too. Unfortunately, she would need to wait a few years to make sure that it was perfect and that nothing could be traced back to her. But Sam was hardly a stranger to waiting; sometimes she felt as though she’d been waiting since the day she was born for the day when she would finally leave Bishop behind her forever. And nothing meant more to her than her new mission to get justice for Hanna; Sam knew that she would wait for as long as it took to make her plan foolproof and see Trent pay for what he’d done.

Growing restless and not finding anything new or noteworthy in Russel’s bank account, she exited the browser and shut down her computer before turning to look at the framed photo of her and Hanna on the desk. She couldn’t remember when it had been taken exactly, but it was her favorite. Hanna was all smiles, beautiful and outgoing and without a care in the world as she stood front and center in the photo. Meanwhile, Sam was hanging back and gazing at her in an awe that she still felt when she thought about the fact that someone like Hanna had seen fit to be friends with someone like Samantha Groves. 

It was a perfect metaphor for their friendship and Sam swallowed, feeling tears stinging her eyes as she reached out to trace the glass covering Hanna’s face as she silently vowed once more that she would do whatever was necessary to see that her death was avenged. 

Years later, Samantha Groves would say that this was the moment that she’d become more Root than Sam.

After making her resolution, she’d gone downstairs and for once, she’d found the lack of decorations and presents to be a relief rather than a burden. Here, there were no reminders of Hanna or her favorite holiday that she’d made Root love just because of how happy it made her. There was no Christmas tree, her mother having given up on it long ago and Sam deeming it unnecessary since there were no gifts to put under it anyway.

Her house was as dark and empty and silent as it always was but for once, Sam found solace in it, finding the atmosphere soothing rather than stifling. Not even the sight of her mother’s beer bottles littering the floor surrounding the couch was enough to dampen her mood. 

They may not have been perfect or even close to functional, but Sam was suddenly intensely grateful for the normalcy of everything in her life, no matter how fucked up. It stood in stark contrast to the way everything else in her life had spiraled so far out of her control and she took comfort in knowing that as much as everything else had changed, her mother and the way they lived likely never would. 

Sam eyed the beer bottles and decided to clean, more so out of a restless need to do something than actually wanting to clean a mess that would be back with a vengeance within moments of her mother’s eventual return. Grabbing a trash bag, she cleared the floor and coffee table of the bottles before wiping the table down with cleaner and a rag, having to make several passes before she got all of the sticky remnants of spilled alcohol off and leaving it almost shining. 

She worked tirelessly throughout the day, moving from room to room and barely tracking the way the sun’s light moved through the house as the hours passed. Though she did her best to keep up with the cleaning, her mother often whirled through like a hurricane and left everything an even bigger mess along the way. The only room she didn’t go into was her mother’s; she’d learned her lesson long ago with a punch to the nose and a slurred warning to “keep her nose in her own business and stay the hell out”. 

Sam almost shivered at the memory before she caught herself and scowled at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. That day had been one of too many that had blurred together, but it would always stick out to her regardless because it had been the first time she’d told Hanna the truth when she’d asked. 

They had been laying in the middle of a field somewhere in the middle of both their houses, a natural meeting point where both could ignore their home lives. Sam’s nose had bruised and swollen and when she’d seen Hanna’s gaze tick to it before she could help it, she’d felt a rush of fear followed by gratitude when Hanna forced her eyes back up and just asked her a question about something else. 

After nearly an hour of talking about everything and nothing at the same time, Hanna had rolled over to face her and she’d followed suit, giggling as Hanna reached over and plucked grass from her hair, twirling it in her fingers in front of Sam’s eyes. 

Grinning triumphantly at the sound of Sam’s giggle, a rare sound coming from her indeed and only ever coaxed out by Hanna, her friend had tossed the grass down and leaned forward, very gently and deliberately pressing her lips to the very tip of Sam’s nose until she’d sucked in a shuddering breath. 

“My mom did that,” Sam had whispered then, like she was revealing her darkest, most precious secret which, of course, she was. She’d steeled herself then, waited for Hanna to recoil from a girl whose own mother couldn’t tolerate her but when she was met only with silence, she slowly forced them back open to see Hanna staring at her with a sad, terrible kind of understanding that set her stomach twisting into knots. 

Without saying a word, Hanna slowly sat up and unbuttoned her shirt. Turning her back to Sam, she shrugged it off and the younger girl swallowed hard when she saw the bruises on her back. There were yellows and purples and greens and all that Sam could think about was that it looked like a modern art piece. “A Study In Fatherly Cruelty” she would later bitterly think whenever she caught a glimpse of Hanna’s colorful back, which would be more often now that she knew the Secret. 

But on this day, all that she could think of to do was to lean forward and very gently press her lips to the bruise in the middle of Hanna’s back and she smiled against her skin when she felt her friend shiver but lean back into it. She knew what it was like to be touched with tenderness after being met only with violence for so long and she marveled at the trust between them, that Hanna would allow her to see her, to touch her while she was like this and she resolved to do it as often as she could. 

Six months later, Hanna and Sam were at the library when Sam watched her climb into Trent Russel’s car and leave and she’d always regret that she’d had such a short period of time to keep her promise. 

With a sigh, Sam shook her head and retreated to her room when she heard the sound of her mother’s car pulling up, the broken muffler making an awful racket and giving her plenty of warning. She hurriedly locked her door and turned her light off, crawling into bed and trying not to breathe as she heard her mother stomp through the house, her heart thumping loudly in her chest as she waited to see what kind of a night it would be. 

Exhaustion slowly began to overtake her as she lay there listening, the sound of her name mercifully absent and as she rolled over to contemplate actually sleeping, she was surprised and relieved to see that it was well past midnight.

One Christmas down, only an unknown number to go, she thought ruefully as she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

III.

Root sat silently on the couch, black-painted fingernails drumming on the arm as she watched the clock tick down to midnight. She could almost feel the seconds slipping by as she followed the countdown to the last Christmas she would ever spend in this house that was so haunted by memories, both good and bad and all the in-between. 

Somehow, it was fitting that her mother had chosen to die on Christmas Eve. Even in Bishop, Texas, a town so small that doctors still made house calls, holidays were still a sacred thing and although she’d been able to arrange for her mother’s body to be picked up, it would be December 26th before anything could even start to be arranged and Root knew it would be at least a week before she could finally leave and start the life she’d been planning to live for so long now. 

She took a small sip of the wine as the clock finally ticked past midnight, grimacing in distaste before holding the glass up in the dark emptiness of the living room. A manic smile was painted on her lips as she chuckled, a dark and ominous laugh that no one was around to hear. 

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” Root smirked, draining the glass despite the bitterness and setting it back down before unfolding her long legs from underneath her and making her way up the stairs. 

Although it had been years since Root had spent Christmas with another person, it somehow felt different when she awoke the next morning with the knowledge that she was truly alone in the world now, that her mother wouldn’t ever stumble in the front door blind drunk and looking for a target ever again. 

Looking around her childhood bedroom, Root felt an odd sense of loss as she realized that one day soon, she’d walk out of there and never return. Though the house had never felt like a home to her, there was something different about her bedroom with its’ many memories and it having been the only retreat she’d ever had. 

She wondered what it would feel like in her new existence, living in different places as often as she knew she would. She wouldn’t have time to memorize the chips in the paint, the way a former leak in the roof had left a dark stain on the ceiling. There wouldn’t be memories hidden in every corner, either. 

Sometimes, Root would glance at a certain spot in her room and be frozen by a memory that would play in front of her eyes like a movie, only a thousand times more real. Hanna, painting Root’s nails black for the first time and starting a tradition that she’d carried on in her name ever since her death. The wall where she’d so long ago flung the Christmas present she’d worked so hard on for her mother, shattering it and her ability to trust along with it. 

And on the very bed where she now sat, knees hugged to her chest and arms wrapped around them, she could almost feel Hanna’s arms wrap around her. She could almost smell the cloying scent of the perfume Root had never had the heart to tell her didn’t suit her; almost feel the soft, hesitant feeling of Hanna’s lips pressed against hers in what had been both of their very first kiss. 

It had been days before Hanna had been killed and even years later, the timing of it made her heart ache. She’d always had feelings for Hanna, always known that she was different from the other girls who were even then starting to show signs of being boy-crazy. It’d never been a secret she had shared with Hanna and somehow, that had made the unexpected kiss all the sweeter. Her chest had felt warm and tingly and her entire body had thrummed with the knowledge that Hanna had taken a chance just because she’d wanted to kiss Sam, not because she knew that Sam wanted it. 

Sometimes, Root caught herself wondering at what might have been if she’d asked Hanna to come over that night at the library, caught herself wondering how different she would be if Hanna had never died. 

And really, that was the word for it that Root alone seemed willing to use. “Disappearance” was bandied about like nobody’s business, but nobody seemed willing to admit the truth of the matter. Even now, after seven years and getting justice for Hanna all by herself, Root still felt a rage blacker than anything she’d ever known fill her when she thought about it. 

It was a rage and a grief that she felt most prominently on two days out of the year: the anniversary of her death and on what had been Hanna’s favorite holiday that now felt so empty without her around to force Root into the spirit of it with her lame jokes and holiday specials with hot cocoa. 

With a sigh, Root climbed out of bed and slowly made her way downstairs, feeling all the world like a ghost in a world that no longer belonged to her as she did. She started a pot of coffee and rummaged through the cupboards for breakfast, eventually settling on cinnamon toast because it was quick and would be easy on her stomach that was already all tied up in knots. 

As she sipped the coffee and ate, Root mentally ran through her plan again. She’d been increasing her online presence lately and taking more and more jobs in preparation for this day, and her offshore, untraceable bank account was very well padded. She could go anywhere she liked and just enjoy herself for quite some time before she’d need to do another job, not that she’d take the opportunity. 

No, Samantha Groves might have enjoyed a vacation, the kind she had once planned out with her best friend in the middle of a Texas field, but Samantha Groves was as good as dead and buried and would be as soon as she made it out of this godforsaken town and Root was left in her place. Root, the woman who’d spent years planning the perfect murder in order to get justice for that same best friend who’d been taken away far too young and long before Samantha Groves was ready to lose her. Root was an adrenaline junkie who loved proving her superiority over everyone and only took on the most challenging jobs almost solely to prove that she could. 

Root would dive even more into work once she was out of Bishop, Texas and had left Samantha Groves behind forever. She didn’t know where she would end up once she left, but after a lifetime of unstable stability such as the home she’d shared with her mother, she was beyond ready for the excitement of moving from place to place, never staying anywhere for long.

She’d long ago learned that home meant nothing, not to her. Maybe once she’d believed differently, thought that she could have a home away from her house with Hanna’s family, but they’d eventually let her down too, never so much as speaking to her again after Hanna had disappeared, and she’d given up.

As she ate the last slice of toast and drained the rest of her coffee, Root’s gaze ticked over to the clock and she was relieved to see it was already early afternoon. The sooner that this holiday was over, the better as far as she was concerned and as she washed her dishes in the sink, she tried to pretend that the grief wasn’t settling in her chest like a cold, hard weight making it difficult for her to breathe. 

It was a weight that she knew she’d carry with her for the rest of her life. Root wasn’t naive enough to think that leaving Bishop in her rear-view would be enough to dissolve it and frankly, she wouldn’t have it even if it would. The pain and the grief were markers of Hanna’s short life; they were proof that she’d been here and that she’d mattered to someone, to Root, and she wouldn’t trade that for any relief in the world. 

Frowning when she heard the house phone ringing, Root dried her hands on the hand towel beside the sink and went to answer it, automatically rolling her eyes at the voice on the other end of the line. It was a so-called ‘sympathetic’ neighbor, the kind who called under the guise of being neighborly and polite but was just hoping to get a scoop to pass along the gossip hot line that buzzed all around Bishop as it did in every small town. She kept her tone cordial and chose her words carefully, enduring the conversation more than holding it until she could finally get them off the phone. 

Rolling her eyes, Root reminded herself that it was almost over. She wouldn’t have to play their stupid games for much longer and then she could make her escape, leave Bishop and all of its’ nosy, gossiping residents behind her forever. She just had to bide her time until then, make sure that no one would be interested enough to wonder about Samantha Groves once she was gone.

Frowning as she glanced up at the clock to see that barely an hour had passed, Root huffed and tried to think of a way to wait out the annoying, painful holiday that she wished she could just erase from existence. 

Pulling out her laptop, she decided to do some work on the virus she’d been contemplating for a while. Although trolling some geeks on online forums with a gibberish code that meant nothing but amused her to watch them scramble to find some meaning in was a fun way to pass the time, Root had bigger plans than that. 

Much, much bigger. 

By the time she was pulled to look at the clock again with eyes that were burning from being locked on the computer screen for so long, Root wasn’t too surprised to see that it was long-past midnight now and the dreaded holiday had ended. 

More importantly than that, however, her virus was coming along quite nicely and although it would be a few years yet before she decided to unleash it, the devastation it would cause was already slumbering between the lines of code, just waiting for an opportunity much like Root had always been slumbering inside of Samantha Groves, just waiting for a crack to slither through that had come when Hanna had been killed. 

She’d infected Sam like a virus of her own making and Sam had been happy to let her. Root was everything Sam wasn’t: bold, confident, unafraid, free. She took the things Sam had long dreamed of and made them into reality through her sheer force of will and lack of caring about the consequences. She was all too happy to become Root and she knew that once she left Bishop, Samantha Groves would be as good as dead and buried and she couldn’t wait.

And as Root fell into her bed that night and said farewell to her last Christmas alone in this miserable house, she thought she could feel Sam’s excitement mingling with her own at the prospect of getting out of this town. 

For the first time, Root fell asleep on Christmas Day without having shed a single tear or cried out in rage one single time and she considered that quite an accomplishment. 

IV.

If it wasn’t for the Machine using a streetlight outside the window of her cage, Root would never have even known it was Christmas. 

She’d long ago lost track of time in here, not that it mattered all that much. She would have stayed in Harry’s little cage for as long as it took for him to realize that neither she nor his creation, her God, would do anything to hurt anyone. But time was a luxury that they didn’t have and though she knew her constant prodding and attempts to get through to Harold weren’t exactly helping, she also knew that she had to make him see that. 

She pursed her lips as she considered the date and wondered if Harry and the others would be in today or if even two ex-assassins and the man who’d created God Herself celebrated Christmas. 

Her lips curled up in a smirk as she tried to imagine Sameen in a Christmas setting, a scowl on her face and an itchy trigger finger on her gun as she tried to blend into the merry setting. Of course, the fantasy ended as soon as it had begun when she realized that she was being ridiculous. She’d seen Shaw’s file, after all; Sameen Shaw was, for all intents and purposes, dead and her mother had died not long after receiving the news. 

Even if Shaw did happen to celebrate Christmas, she had no one left to celebrate it with and the thought made pain flare up in her chest, the connection she already felt to the Persian seeming to strengthen with the realization. 

With a sigh, Root glanced out the window again but the Machine was silent, seemingly only having wanted to fill her in on the date for whatever reason. Root wished that she could ask her why she’d thought it important, wished that she could speak to Her to pass the time today. But seeing as how that was impossible, she busied herself wondering how she should fill her day today, frowning at the books that surrounded her that she’d already finished. 

She would have given anything for a computer in that moment, her fingers practically itching for the familiar feel of a keyboard beneath them. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone so long without access to a computer before, but she thought it might have been before Hanna. It had been far too long at any rate, and Root had taken to writing codes out by hand a few days ago just to relieve the itch. She wondered if this is what withdrawal felt like, if she was experiencing the things addicts always did and laughed at the thought. 

Addiction did run in her genetics after all. 

The hours seemed to tick by endlessly as Root sat on her makeshift bed and watched, tracking the sun’s progress across the sky and trying to ignore the hunger pangs in her belly. It would appear that Harry and the kids did take the holiday off and really, she shouldn’t have been surprised that they’d forgotten about her, the unwanted prisoner that none of them knew what to do with. 

Reese wanted to kill her, she knew; hadn’t he threatened as much when she’d called to thank him for finding Hanna, ensuring that she would get a proper burial and finally exposing the truth of her death? 

Harold was a bit trickier to suss out, but she suspected that he just didn’t have a clue because she scared him as much as the Machine did. Her willingness to follow any order her God gave her was clearly terrifying to him and no amount of explaining that She had kept her in the asylum to learn how to be a better person would convince him otherwise. She was pretty sure that Harry would keep her in this cage for as long as he possibly could just so that he wouldn’t have to make a decision.

And as for Shaw… She couldn’t help but smile again at the thought of the intriguing woman. They’d had quite the first encounter, with Root posing as Veronica before the real woman had roused Shaw’s suspicions. But things had only grown more enticing after that and Root often wondered about where things might have gone if they hadn’t come for the real Veronica and their intimate encounter with the iron had gone beyond a mere threat. She’d longed to hear the hiss of the iron against Shaw’s flesh, to leave a mark on her that would always be Root’s and no one else’s and it was a shame that they’d been so rudely interrupted.

Of course, there was the fact that Shaw had shot her in the weakest moment of her life, but she’d also dug the bullet out of her in the car on the way to the asylum afterward and they’d had a quite enjoyable experience together that night in the CIA safe-house. 

Shaw was a wild card, pure and simple, but Root didn’t think she wanted her dead. If anything, Root rather suspected that Shaw would be the one to eventually crack and let her out if the right circumstances presented themselves as she knew they one day would.

She just hoped that it wouldn’t be too late by then. 

Shaking her head, Root turned to stare out the window again, trying to pretend that it didn’t hurt to spend another Christmas alone. She hadn’t been dreading the holiday this year, actually, having been curious to know what the Machine thought of it and being happy with the thought of having Her in her ear to distract her from things. 

She really should have known better than to think that things would ever work out for her in regards to the holiday, though. Somehow she felt even lonelier now that she knew what it was like to have the Machine as her constant companion and she wished once again that she could speak to Her about anything. 

But wishing was useless, she told herself as she shifted on the uncomfortable bench that doubled as her bed and studied her nails. She was locked in this cage for the foreseeable future and that was that. Even if she could leave, she knew that she wouldn’t. Harold’s cooperation was integral to stopping whatever She saw coming and Root knew that he would never agree if she gave him any more reason not to trust her. And, of course, there was the other reason, the one that Root was incapable of expressing even to herself. 

From the first time she’d gotten a glimpse of Harold, Root had known that she’d met her match. The brief glimpse that she’d gotten into his network had been breathtaking, elegant even. The way he coded was a work of art and when she’d gotten the briefest of hints about the Machine… 

Harold had created God and for that alone but for so many more reasons, Root would do anything he asked if it meant that one day, they could perhaps be colleagues or maybe even friends. 

Pulled from her musings by a flickering of the streetlight, Root smiled softly as the Machine spoke to her, informing her that it was after midnight and yet another Christmas had passed. 

V.

After Hanna had died, Samantha Groves had thought that Christmas couldn’t possibly get any worse, get any harder for a lone little girl with nobody left in the world that she could count on. 

She’d been wrong, and Root blamed the little bit of Sam Groves who still existed beneath her skin for the fact that she couldn’t sleep for the bitter ice that seemed to fill her veins as she stared out of the window of Sameen’s former apartment and wondered what the hell she was supposed to do with this fucking holiday this year. 

Years ago, she’d thought the worst possible pain had been inflicted on her when she’d watched the only person in the world who gave a damn about her climb into a car and she hadn’t said a word. She’d long-blamed herself for Hanna’s death, for not listening to her gut and intervening but just watching in numb silence as Hanna was led to her death like a lamb to the slaughter and Sam Groves the only witness, the one nobody would believe. 

She’d been so very wrong about that. 

When Sameen had pulled her into a bruising kiss, gripping her arms so tight that she’d had bruises for days (but not long enough, never long enough), her heart had soared and despite everything, she hadn’t been able to keep her wits about her enough to realize what Shaw meant to do until she was being hurtled backwards into arms that captured her and held her and why wouldn’t they let her go?! 

For the second time in her life, Root had been forced to watch as someone she loved was taken away from her and once again, she hadn’t been able to move until it was too late. She’d managed to free herself from the grip of whoever had been holding her, but the gate was already down and though she clung to it as though she’d rip it down if she could, she’d known that it was fruitless and she’d screamed as she’d watched the bullets slam into Sameen’s chest. 

The sounds coming from her were hardly human and she could barely recognize them as her own as she beat at the bars and clung to them in turn, trying to get to Sameen as she went down and Martine approached, the doors slowly closing on the view of the blonde pointing her gun at Shaw’s head. It had been all too like watching Hanna climb into Russel’s car but never knowing what had happened to her.

Root shuddered and stared at the drink in her hand, wondering when it had gotten there but deciding not to question it as she tossed it back. It burned going down but Root welcomed the pain, knowing that she deserved it for her many sins. 

For all her trying, the Machine refused to give Root any information about Sameen either, and that was a betrayal that she simply couldn’t take. She had spent so much of her life longing for something that made sense to her the way that the Machine had and for her to turn on her now… She tilted the glass upward, draining the last of it.

She’d thought the silence was unbearable before, but now the Machine never spoke to her and her implant was always impossibly silent. She knew she was being punished for ignoring the Machine’s order to stop looking for Shaw but frankly, Root didn’t care. She would do whatever it took to learn Sameen’s fate, Samaritan and the Machine be equally damned if She couldn’t respect that. 

Sometimes, Root wondered if Harry had been right about Her all along, though it was never something she would have spoken out loud. She’d once thought the Machine could love them, that she did, but now she wasn’t so sure. How could She expect Root to live with herself if she didn’t devote herself to searching for Shaw? How could She abandon her at the time Root needed Her guidance the most if she really did care for them? 

How could she abandon Sameen to Samaritan’s clutches after all of the good Sameen had done with them, for them? 

She swallowed hard, taking another punishing drink and frowning at her empty glass. She was getting to have a problem now, she knew. She remembered the signs well from her own mother, could see how she was following in her footsteps even now.

“Just one to take the edge off,” her mother had muttered on more than one occasion after going to a meeting she’d promised Sam she’d attend. “Just need one...” 

The next morning, little Samantha Groves would wake up to her mother blacked out on the couch yet again, bottles and glass surrounding the couch and she’d sigh, knowing it was starting again. 

Though she hadn’t quite reached the point of blacking out yet, Root was all too aware that she was drinking too much these days. She’d started to ache for it recently and she frowned as she tried to remember the last time that she’d gone a day without a single drink and realized that she couldn’t remember, it having become a constant companion to help her get through the night.

Somehow, that little reminder combined with the Christmas parade choosing that moment to take over the television was enough to fill Root with a new purpose. Switching the television off, she poured the bottle of Scotch down the sink and followed it up with every bottle she had in the house. 

She hadn’t come all this way from Bishop, TX to an elite assassin to one of the good guys just to turn into her goddamn mother, she thought with a vengeance that suited her, that felt good. And she certainly wasn’t about to fail Sameen because she was too weak to survive without her, not when she knew that Shaw would have moved heaven and hell to get her back if their positions were reversed. 

And somehow, she knew with all the certainty in the world that she would get Sameen back. Although the Machine refused to tell her anything about Shaw’s condition, she knew it in the way that she’d always known her Christmases would be spent alone after Hanna. She knew it in the way that she could feel their connection still beating strong between them, as strong as Shaw’s heartbeat had felt against her the day that Sameen had kissed her and pushed her away to save her, to save them. 

She knew it as surely as she knew that her fucking name was Root and that she wouldn’t be taken down so easily, not when Sameen was out there waiting for her. 

Her eyes narrowed and she took a deep breath, resolving to ignore the holiday as much as possible as she started to come up with a plan to force the Machine’s hand. She wasn’t sure yet when she would implement it, but just having a plan was good.

Even an acolyte as devoted as she had her limits, and she was about to teach the Machine a lesson of her own about pushing them. 

VI 

For the first time that she could remember, Root was home. 

The war had been won and the surviving team had scattered in order to avoid the last of Decima as it slowly died out. Though far less dangerous without Samaritan’s all-seeing eye, none of them were foolish enough to think that their desperate death flail couldn’t be catastrophic if any of their agents found them. 

Unfortunately for Root, that meant that she had been forced to say goodbye to Shaw again, less than a month after she had finally gotten her back. And although she took comfort in knowing that Sameen was safe, having spoken to her whenever the Machine could arrange a secure line for them, a part of her knew that she wouldn’t rest easy or consider the comfortable apartment a true home until Shaw was there with her. 

Sighing softly, Root snuggled into her pillow and closed her eyes, but with a severe lack of action and the exhaustion left over from waging war on an ever-smartening artificial intelligence, she had slept more than her share and found herself wide awake despite her best efforts. Almost as though to taunt her, her neighbor chose that moment to turn their radio on at an ungodly high volume, blasting Christmas music straight through the wall and assaulting her good ear. 

Taking the cue, Root climbed out of bed and headed into the living room. With a brief glance around the room, she realized that there was nothing to be done. The apartment was as clean as she could get it and there wasn’t even any of her usual clutter of electronics to be picked up. Pouting as she wondered about how she was going to get through this day, she sat down on the couch and studied the TV warily, wondering if it was even worth trying to find something on that wasn’t the damn parade or a holiday movie. 

Suddenly, her thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door and Root frowned, immediately put on guard. Reaching under the couch, she withdrew the taser she had secured underneath it and slowly approached the door. The Machine’s lack of chatter made her feel somewhat at ease, knowing the amount of security cameras around the building but still, she knew that she couldn’t be too careful. 

Root couldn’t help the broad smile that overcame her as she brought her eye to the peephole and saw who was waiting on the other side. Now, she understood the Machine’s silence more than ever and whispered a heartfelt thank you as she scrambled to unlock the door and pulled it open. 

“Hey, sweetie,” she crooned, reaching out to caress Shaw’s shoulders as though to convince herself that she was really there. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” 

Shaw shifted from one foot to the other, looking almost nervous as she gave a jerky nod and tried to avoid Root’s gaze. “Yeah, well, I remembered what you told me about Christmas.” She managed to give Root a tight smile that spoke more to her discomfort than anything else could. “I didn’t want you to be alone today.”

Root swallowed, touched beyond measure by Shaw’s thoughtfulness but knowing that she wouldn’t appreciate her showing it. “Thank you,” she said softly anyway, reaching out and taking Shaw’s hand in hers so that she could pull her into the apartment. 

As she’d predicted, the apartment immediately seemed to brighten with Shaw’s presence and Root felt like she could finally breathe in it for the first time. She couldn’t help but beam at the smaller woman and the effect she had on her. “Home sweet home,” she mused, suddenly noticing the bags in Shaw’s hand and the delicious smell wafting from it. “Sameen, did you bring dinner?” 

“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t have anything here,” Shaw snorted, and Root tried to look offended but failed miserably. She knew that they were both thinking about a night just a week after Shaw had come back home and Root had endeavored to make her dinner. The night had ended with the Machine rambling fire safety rules and statistics about their local fire station in her ear while Shaw used a kitchen chair to take the batteries out of all the smoke alarms in her apartment.

“Besides, you shouldn’t get too excited,” Shaw hurried to add, making Root suspect that she was worried she was about to get what Shaw had termed ‘gushy’ on her. “It’s just harissa, a chicken stew that we always had on Christmas growing up.” She frowned, and Root waited quietly, knowing that sharing things like this didn’t come easily to Shaw and not wanting to interrupt the rare moment. “It’s dumb.”

Root was already shaking her head and put a gentle hand on Shaw’s wrist as she smiled tenderly. “It’s not dumb, Sameen, and thank you,” she told her quietly, holding her gaze until she saw Shaw give her a small but genuine smile. 

“You’re welcome,” she muttered, disappearing to the kitchen so that she could set things up. Root couldn’t help but smile again at how at home she already seemed and she tried to ignore the part of her that was wondering how long they had before they’d have to split up again. 

“Are you coming or what?” Shaw demanded, re-appearing with a delicious smelling bowl, steam still rising from the contents as she stirred it absently. 

“Yeah, I am,” Root assured her, giving her arm a gentle squeeze as she passed by her. 

The harissa was as delicious as Root had expected and she found herself eating far more than usual. Between the two of them, they finished it off and Shaw gave her another smile when Root slipped her hand into hers and gave it a gentle squeeze again. 

“Shaw...” 

“I know,” she said softly, meeting Root’s gaze and making Root melt again at the understanding she saw there. Their eyes said everything for them and once again, Root was left to marvel at the way they didn’t need the words that both of them had always struggled with when it came to other people. 

She knew that Shaw understood exactly what she was thanking her for; she’d told her the night before the final battle between themselves and Samaritan about Hanna, about her mother, about Christmas. She knew that was why Shaw had come over today, could still hear the words she’d whispered in the pitch black of night that had given her the strength. 

“I’ve never had anyone on Christmas, not really. I’ve spent every one alone since Hanna died and sometimes, I’m scared that I always will.”

Shaw’s arrival said far more than any words could ever convey and Root leaned forward to kiss her softly, the lingering taste of the harissa blending into the kiss in a way that just felt right and made Root feel more than ever that she was finally home. 

But as was their normal, the kiss didn’t stay soft for long and it was hours later before the pair were panting softly while lying in bed facing each other. It was, as far as Root was concerned, the perfect way to spend Christmas but Shaw wasn’t quite finished yet. 

“I didn’t get you anything,” she said bluntly, making Root giggle. 

“That’s okay, I didn’t get you anything either, sweetie,” Root winked, lazily tracing patterns along Shaw’s back. 

Shaw rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her smile at Root’s antics. “I didn’t get you anything because I want us to move in together,” she blurted out, refusing to meet Root’s gaze. 

Root froze, staring at Shaw in shock and disbelief. Had Sameen “three nights” “I don’t do relationships” Shaw really just asked if they could move in together? 

Though Root had long ago accepted that she was the exception to Shaw’s every rule, something that had come far more easily ever since her return from Samaritan and willingness to admit that she cared for Root, she was still taken off guard. Her mind was whirling as she stared at Sameen, scrutinizing every detail of her expression and the way she’d offered. 

“Do you really mean that, Shaw?” she asked softly, her voice small and vulnerable, far more Samantha than Root in that moment. “You’re not just saying it?” 

Shaw sighed and met her gaze. “Yes, Root, I mean it. The Machine called me a few days ago to let me know that Decima’s gone and we’re safe. I asked Her not to tell you because I wanted to surprise you.” 

Root could hear the unspoken words in her sentence: “and I didn’t want you to think that I only came over here and asked to move in because the danger passed and it seemed like the thing to do” and she couldn’t help but smile at the sentiment. 

“Are you going to answer me or just keep smiling like an idiot?” Shaw grumbled, breaking Root’s trance and making her laugh. 

“Of course I want us to live together, Sameen,” she said, pulling her into a kiss and feeling her relax against her. “Wait a minute,” she grinned, her eyes shining with glee. “Did you just say that you’re moving in as my Christmas present?” 

“Root.”

“That’s so incredibly romantic of you, Sameen. Do you want to watch a Hallmark movie together? I can make hot cocoa and we could build a gingerbread house.” 

“Root,” Shaw growled, but Root’s smile only grew more impish as she climbed out of bed and meandered into the living room, not even having to look behind her to know that Shaw would follow. 

“Come on, Sameen,” she winked, settling in on the couch before flipping on the TV and scrolling through the channels. “Ooh! It’s A Wonderful Life, that’s a classic.” 

Shaw huffed in annoyance as she practically collapsed on the couch beside her and Root had to bite her lip to keep from laughing as she remembered that time years ago that she’d tried to envision Shaw surrounded by holiday festivities and how close to perfect her imagination gotten her expression, if her current one was anything to go by. 

“I’m not watching this crap,” she informed Root coolly, trying and failing to seem completely disinterested. 

“That’s okay, it’s almost over anyway, sweetie,” Root winked, changing the channel again and finding the Rudolph special on. “Here we go, this one is even better!” 

“I never understood this crap,” Shaw muttered, glaring at the television as the reindeer were bullying Rudolph. “What’s the lesson supposed to be anyway, bully someone so that they’ll feel indebted to prove themselves to you? It’s dumb.” 

Root laughed and rolled her eyes, teasingly putting a finger over Shaw’s lips and shivering when Shaw nipped at it. “Come on, Sameen, where’s your Christmas spirit?” she winked. 

Shaw huffed again but let Root pull her in to her side and Root smiled, remembering a time years ago when she’d watched this same film in a similar position with another girl who’d meant almost as much to Samantha Groves as Shaw did to her. 

But where Hanna and Sam had never gotten a chance to explore what could have been, Root knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she and Shaw had been granted an absolution that neither of them necessarily deserved but that would never be squandered anyway. 

And as Root enjoyed her first Christmas in over twenty years that wasn’t spent alone, she found that she couldn’t stop smiling. 

Hooray.

Except the road to Cambridge was perilous and offer infested with ghouls, super mutants and raiders.

So stealth was her friend.

Or running.

She didn’t have the numbers to back up taking a gang of gunners down and she wanted to live long enough to give Reese a piece of her mind when she got back to the Pryden.

As she was walking through the ruins she felt a chill, she was near the C.I.T. ruins and sure, she got a little lost but just another turn and she was on her way.

Except she wasn’t.

She could feel that she was being watched, something was off about this place.

She looked around, pulling out her pistol when out of nowhere it happened.

An energy blast shot past her and she was surrounded, synths appearing out of thin air attacking her.

It was a group of Gen-2 and Gen-1 Synths, they had complete control and thoughts over their mechanical bodies, but they looked more machine than human, the Gen-1s had barely any skin on them.

She cursed and dove for cover behind a car, pulling out a plasma grenade, her last one, and threw it at a group of them.

When they scattered she pulled out her energy rifle and decided to do this clean and quick, she didn’t have time to mess around with them.

She knew she needed to find better cover, the car she was hiding behind could blow up any second by a stray blast.

She jumped and rolled behind a corner and took position.

One look through her scope and she started taking them out, one at a time, all headshots.

The thing is, they kept on multiplying.

She took out one and two more took its place.

At this rate she’s be dead.

She heard the clanking behind her as soon as she reloaded her blaster, she was done for.

Well shit she thought, time to go out with a bang.

She turned and started firing, backing up and into the open. She turned heel and shot at the other ones behind her.

A blast hit her back and then her shoulder, this was it for her.

She pulled out a pistol and headshotted the two synths that got close to her, she tried to run past them but they caught her and shoved her to the ground. Her blaster clattered to the ground and when another synth she got close to her she put one between its eyes.

She tried to get up but they kicked her down.

They forced her down and kicked her pistol away from her.

They dragged her up and held her by her arms, the one in charge looked at her, tilting its head.

It raised its blaster and pointed it at her head, ready to shoot.

“Wait!” A voice cried out, carrying over the city ruins.

Shaw looked up, it was a woman. She had brunette hair and was tall and lanky Shaw noticed.

Someone from the institute Shaw realized, eyes widening.

The distinctive orange lab coat of the institute glinted in the setting sun.

“Release her now!” She said.

“The prisoner was close to the ruins ma’am, we have orders to kill, she’s apart of the brotherhood,” the synth said in its mechanical voice.

Shaw realized that she was wearing her brotherhood of steel suit under the BoS standard armor, not exactly a good idea.

“Yes, however I’m telling you to let her go.”

“But Ma’am-”

“That’s an order!”

“....yes ma’am, let the prisoner go,” the synth commanded. They reluctantly let her go and she collapsed to the floor on her knees, her wounds were catching up to her and she hasn’t had time to use a stimpack.

“If we may ask ma’am, what are you doing up here on the surface, you are not required to be up here,” a synth asked the doctor.

“No you may not ask me,” she said testily, walking past them and helping Shaw up.

“Go. Now.” She hissed in her ear and slipped something in between Shaw’s armor and suit.

Shaw didn’t pay it any attention and gathered her weapons, running away from the crowd closing in on the doctor.

She ran a corner and climbed a ladder leading up to the roof of a nearby building.

She went to the ledge and looked over, pulling out her sniper rifle and using the scope to get a better look.

It looked like there was an argument, the Institute doctor was waving her arms up and down and the synth wasn’t showing any change in emotion. The doctor, Groves, gave up with a roll of her eyes and walked away from the group of synths, walking down and alley, disappearing into the darkness. Some synths followed her, supposedly to the institute, while others went in other directions to patrol most likely.

There was on synth left, the one that had pointed its gun at her. Suddenly, he looked up and straight at her and she could she it’s metal eyes through her scopes.

She’s been spotted.

She cursed and ducked behind the brick wall.

Her heart was racing, she had almost died today and only lived because of one scientist.

Thinking about her, she pulled out what was tucked into her armor and looked at it.

It wasn’t a particularly large Bath and Body Works, so Root was keeping her distance. This was only a part time job, so she didn’t really care if Sameen stole anything. This was just the only entertainment she’d had all day. Despite it being the week before Christmas, the store had been pretty dead. Root would have given Sameen her focus even if it had been busy.

Sameen was hot, but she was also smart and that was definitely a turn on. Root had looked at her grades online. Their school’s system had been so easy to hack into and Root had access to pretty much everything. That included Sameen’s arrest record. It was only a couple minor thefts in high school and a fight at the bar on campus. Nothing that would put Root off.

Root glanced over her shoulder again, but Sameen was gone. She looked around the area, not seeing her anywhere. Quickly moving to her last location, Root spotted her across the aisle in the soap section, beginning her smell regimen again. Apparently, she’d exhausted the candle options.

Wondering why she was going through such an intense deliberation, Root leaned against a shelf and watched as Sameen held two soaps in her hand, looking between the two. Carefully, she held one and then the other under her nose. It was almost funny how long this decision was taking her. Maybe she was buying a gift for someone special. Root wrinkled her nose at the thought of Sameen buying something for her boyfriend to smell.

Sameen started to put one of the soaps into her basket and hesitated. Shaking her head, she put it back on the shelf and dropped the other soap in. She looked over the shelf again and took the soap back out of her basket again, placing it back in its spot. Root rolled her eyes and headed towards her.

“Hello!” she greeted, trying to sound enthusiastic. She stopped an appropriate distance away. “Can I help you with something?”

Sameen tensed and looked at her, her eyes widening in surprise. She clearly recognized Root. Looking away, she crossed her arms. “No.”

“Ok,” Root said, a little caught off guard. Sameen definitely needed help. She decided to be direct. “Are you here to steal something?”

Sameen’s eyebrows shot up, insulted. “Excuse me?”

“Well, you’re wearing all black and you’ve been here for almost an hour without buying something. That’s kind of suspicious.”

“If I was stealing something, I would have left after 30 seconds.”

Root smirked. “Good point.”

Sameen took a step forward, forcing Root to back up or get hit. “I’m trying to pick out something that smells good. I’d be out of here a lot faster if you actually sold anything that smelled nice.”

Root laughed. “You would know if we sold anything that smelled good. I mean, you’ve smelled everything.”

Scowling, Shaw dropped her basket on the floor dramatically. “I’m leaving.”

She started walking toward the door and Root sighed, scooping up the basket. “I was just teasing! Take your time. I like having something nice to look at.”

“Whatever.” She glared at Root, but she took the basket back. Her eyes ran over Root’s body, lingering on the way her half-apron accentuated her waist. Meeting Root’s eyes again, she smiled dangerously. “Since you’re so eager to talk, you can give me a hand.”

“I would love to give you a hand,” Root said, putting her hands on her hips. “Where should I put it?”

“Wow,” Sameen snorted. “You’re not even subtle.”

“Oh, sorry.” Root widened her eyes, putting on her most innocent expression. She let her body tense like she was shy, the act of pretending coming easily to her. “I don’t know anything about flirting, and I’ve never even been kissed! I didn’t even notice that you checked me out!”

Sameen glared at her, but the curve of her lips gave away her amusement. “Uh huh. Can you just help me find something that smells good? I don’t have all day.”

Smiling, Root dropped the act, her body relaxing. “Sure can do. What kind of good smell are you looking for?”

“Some shit a girl would like,” Sameen replied with a shrug.

“Shouldn’t you know? You’re a girl.” Root took a step back and obviously checked her out. “A pretty hot girl.”

Another smile tugged at Sameen’s lips, and Root knew she was winning her over. Sameen could put on an annoyed act, but she hadn’t walked out of the store yet. In fact, she took a step toward Root, her basket dangling from her fingers.

“Do you flirt with all the girls that come in here?”

Root winked. “Just the cute ones.”

Chuckling, Sameen gestured with her basket. “Ok, Root. Show me some good smells.”

“You know my name?” Root asked, surprised. They’d never spoken before. Sameen did look at her a lot in class, though. She thought she was sneaky, but Root noticed. Maybe she was thinking about dumping her boyfriend and playing for the other team. “I know your name, too. Sameen.”

She winced. “Call me Shaw. No one calls me Sameen.”

Root pouted, but she led the way back to the soap aisle. “So, how did you learn my name?”

“You talk in class constantly,” Shaw answered. “The teacher says your name so much, I’d have to be an idiot not to know it by now.”

Smirking, Root twirled a strand of hair around her finger, watching the way Shaw’s eyes focused on it. “The teacher calls on me, but she doesn’t use the right name. How do you know I go by ‘Root’?”

Shaw flushed, her excuse falling through. They reached the soap aisle and she snatched a bar of the shelf. “I must have seen something on Facebook. Look, are you going to help me, or not? Isn’t that your whole job?”

“I don’t think I believe you, but I’ll let it go.” Root pushed herself off the shelf and turned to face it. “Are you interested in boys or girls?”

“Excuse me?”

Root grinned, leaning closer. “Who are you shopping for? A man or a woman?”

Her eyes narrowing, Shaw didn’t move away. She leaned in, too, her coat brushing against Root’s arm. “A woman.”

“Anyone I know?”

Shaw glared at her for a second longer before shaking her head, a teasing smile tugging at full lips. “No. She’s not in our class.”

Raising an eyebrow, Root tore her eyes away, turning to the shelf of soaps. “I’m surprised you aren’t buying something for your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Shaw repeated, distastefully. “You mean Tomas? He’s a good time, but he’s not my boyfriend.”

Root smiled to herself, pretending to look for a soap. “So, a girlfriend then. She’s a lucky woman.”

Groaning, Shaw shifted her basket from one hand to the other. “Just ask if I’m single. I am, by the way. I’m not really the dating type.”

“Me neither,” Root murmured, tossing her hair over her shoulder and meeting Shaw’s eyes. “I don’t need a relationship to be satisfied.”

Shaw gave her a knowing look before glancing down at the bar of soap in her hand. “Glorious Morning.” She sniffed it and pretended to gag. “Yuck. Smells like my grandmother.”

Taking it from her, Root looked at the ingredients. “Hyacinth and lavender. So, we know those are bad. Hmm.” She traded the bar for another. “How about this?”

Shaw reached out a hand for it, waiting for Root to put it on her palm. She curled her fingers, brushing them against Root as she moved the bar to her nose. Her eyes met Root’s, dark and mysterious. The look made heat pool in Root’s stomach, and she had to take a breath and compose herself.

“Ew, no,” Shaw muttered. “Midnight Terrace? What the fuck kind of names are these?” She turned the bar of soap over. “Lilac and Honey. It’s too much.”

Root laughed as she tossed the bar onto the shelf. “Ok, picky. Well, what kind of stuff does this girl like?”

“Uh, I’m not sure.” Shaw put her basket on the floor. “I… haven’t talk to her before.”

Root froze as she put the pieces together. Shaw already knew her name, she was buying something for a girl she’d never talked to, and she’d been flirting with Root this whole time. Licking her lips, Root held back a grin, nodding seriously instead.

“I see.” She put the bar of soap back and wandered down the aisle to the lotions. “If I was getting a gift from someone, that implied a lot of intimate contact, I think I’d prefer lotion over soap. It’s more versatile.”

“Interesting.” Shaw casually followed after her, sticking her hands in her pockets. “You wouldn’t want to be… intimate in the shower?”

Root lifted an eyebrow playfully. “I’m more than willing to be intimate in the shower. I just like lotion, because it because it gives you an excuse to really work someone’s body.”

Shaw nodded thoughtfully, her cheeks turning a soft red. She stepped into Root’s personal space and acted like she was perusing the bottles. “I do like to work bodies. Although, I usually get complaints that I’m too rough.”

“Really?” Root breathed, her heartbeat quickening. “I think a good massage should be a little rough. If it doesn’t leave you sore, what’s the point?”

“I agree.” Shaw glanced at her again. “Which lotion does your boyfriend buy you?”

Root laughed loudly, Shaw’s question surprising it out of her. The idea of dating a boy was hilarious. She had never liked a boy in her life, and she honestly forgot about them if they weren’t around. Brushing her hair from her face, Root grinned at Shaw.

“I’m single,” she said, still chuckling, “and I only like girls. No one buys me lotion, Shaw. I buy it myself and use it with anyone I want.”

Reaching for a bottle, Shaw hesitated. She let her hand fall heavily onto the shelf and then looked up at Root. “You know I’m buying this for you, right? Like, you got that?”

“Oh, I got it.”

“Well, then, just pick something, so I can buy it and we can go use it.”

Frowning, Root gestured to the store around them. “I’m in the middle of my shift. I can’t just leave the store four days before Christmas.  I’d get fired.”

Shaw hesitated, awkwardly stepping away. “Oh. Right. I guess-“

“I’m totally fucking with you,” Root said, grinning. “Let me close up.”

She started walking away, but remembered herself and went back to where Shaw was still standing, staring after her. Grabbing Shaw’s shoulders, she shoved her into the shelves, knocking over the perfectly lined bottles of lotions. Shaw only had the chance to look surprised for a second before Root’s mouth covered her own, their bodies pressing together.

Shaw’s hands found Root’s waist instantly, pulling her even closer. Her mouth was demanding against Root, insistent and aggressive. It made Root melt in her arms, ready for even more. She wished Shaw could rip her clothes off right here and take her on the floor, but there were cameras everywhere and Root didn’t want the extra work to delete the footage.

She pulled herself away before she could change her mind. “I’ll be right back,” she panted into Shaw’s mouth. “If we go to my place, I’ve got plenty of stuff we can use.  Everything I own smells good.”

“What if I want to buy you something?” Shaw asked, her eyes half-closed and mouth half-open.

Root kissed her again, sinking her teeth into Shaw’s lower lip until she groaned. “You can buy me dinner later. We’ll need the energy.”

Shaw’s hands untied Root’s apron and threw it aside. She tugged up Root’s shirt, her hands spreading over soft skin. “What do I get out of this?”

“Hmm,” Root hummed against her lips. “I’m going to make this the best Christmas you’ve ever had. If you’re really nice, I’ll let you stay ‘til New Year’s.”

“Don’t worry,” Shaw said, digging her nails into Root’s hips. “I’m always nice.”

The store needed all hands on deck for Christmas. They just made sure to keep her away from actual customers. They needed her decorating skills, not her personality. That was fine by Shaw.

The store Shaw was working at was highly esteemed and went by the name Toy Castles. It always made it in New York’s top magazines for the holidays. Sometimes, it even made it in some holiday movies. A large part of that was due to the decorations.

The other half was that all the competition went out of business.

Most people didn’t buy toys in stores anymore if you thought about it logically. Online shopping was taking over but if you got creative with your thought process, well, some things didn’t add up. That’s what Root told her anyway. Shaw didn’t really care about the details and she never bothered to ask.

So, here Shaw was, a grown woman dressed as an elf with a hat and pointy ears that she had to glue on every morning. She needed to keep this cover no matter how much she hated it.

Shaw cut out another paper gingerbread man. It stuck to her fingers.

“Shi-”

“Hi, Shaw.” A man interrupted. He joined her and stood by her side, reaching for the second pair of scissors to cut out paper candy canes at the workstation.

“David.” Shaw acknowledged him and kept working. He was the only employee that she could stand. She actually liked working with him and they both respected each other’s space. If only everyone was like that. He reminded her of Reese.

This whole situation could be worse. She could work at the store permanently. She knew she was only going to be here for a few more days. She hoped. That thought was the only thing that made this bearable.

“Hey, how are my two favorite elves?” The front end manager walked in. His elf costume was more elaborate than theirs with a shiny gold tag labeled “Leon” proudly pinned to his chest.

The two of them barely acknowledged him as he came in draping his arms around Sameen’s shoulders and awkwardly attempting to do the same with David but failing because of his height. “Only one week until Christmas!”

It took all the self-control Shaw had to not punch him. Instead, she shot him a warning glare. “Right,” He stopped acting chummy and got the hint.

She couldn’t believe Root got Leon on this mission too. This was the first time she had worked with him and she wished it would be the last. She never wanted to see him again after this.

“What do you want Leon?” Shaw said between her teeth.

“Doors are opening at eight o’clock. We wouldn’t mind you in the back stockroom, Shaw.” He said with a gulp.

“That’s alright with me,” Shaw said.

“Um, one more thing. Santa is going to be here at ten and we need some elves to stand by his side at the North Pole. I was hoping maybe you’d be interested?”

“No.” She wasn’t going to be a babysitter and she wasn’t going to listen to Leon. He definitely wasn’t going to fire her or tell upper management. They were both on this job to find a number, a Dylan Marks who has failed to show up so far. The little details of a retail store weren’t going to get in the way.

“Right, I’ll just get back to work. Uh, David, we need the candy canes hanging over the registers. Can we get you over there before the doors open?” He directed his attention over to her co-worker. Shaw immediately tuned out.

Figuring the conversation was over, she took her gingerbread cutouts from the table, moving to the front of the store.

Toy Castles was impressive, the front windows were fully made from glass, the windows stretching from floor to ceiling. As per tradition, the glass was almost completely covered with Christmas decorations. Shaw put the gingerbread men in the empty spots. She peered through the glass across the street. A coffee shop with equally giant glass windows was directly across.

Root was on the other side.

Shaw lost focus on the gingerbread men. Root had been visiting the same table since Shaw first started working at the toy shop. Every morning had gone the same since then. Sameen would hang up decorations in the front window and Root would gaze across the street at her.

This was irritating, Root didn’t tell her why she needed to work here. She just told her to wait. The days kept on dragging on and Shaw’s patience kept getting shorter.

Today, Root was wearing a dress. Her coat was hanging on the back of her chair and her hands glided expertly across the keys of her keyboard. Shaw had no idea why Root was so dressed up. It was almost Christmas and it was freezing in New York. Not that Shaw was complaining anyway, she didn’t mind the view.

Root looked up at Shaw, she smiled smugly while picking up her drink and biting her straw seductively. Root attempted a wink and failed spectacularly. Shaw looked at her blankly, immediately feeling a bit of irritation and something else that only Root got out of her.

To say Root was annoying was an understatement.

It only took a second for the moment to end. Root’s attention was brought back to her laptop. Shaw watched her get back to work while she finished hanging the gingerbread men. The day was about to start.

“Hey, are you about done over there?” An employee caring keys walked to the front door. She was about to unlock the store.

“Yeah,” Shaw said, finishing getting the last decoration in place.

Families and parents were starting to line up at the door. Not wanting to be in the middle of a Jingle All the Way situation, she finished quickly.

Shaw was starting to learn that parents were the worst demographics of people she ever had to deal with. They’d bite, scratch, and claw their way to get a cheap plastic toy. Shaw wasn’t even allowed to punch them. Fortunately, she’d be spending the day in the stockroom. She made her way towards the back of the store.

The doors to the store opened. Shaw could hear kids and parents in the main building as she went through the first shipments and opened the new boxes with her box cutter. More decoration materials came in last night. Fresh-cut Douglas Fir branches filled the box. The aroma was unmistakable but it always made her sneeze. They were meant to be turned into fresh wreaths. She started to get to work.

The rest of the day was like this. More boxes and more branches turned into misshapen Christmas wreaths. The day was completely uneventful. Shaw clocked out in frustration, her hands sticky with tree sap.

“Only six days left until Christmas.” Lean reminded her again as she walked out of the store.

                                                          >>>

That night Sameen scrubbed her hands for an extra five minutes in the shower. It felt as though the tree sap would never come off. She gave up and turned off the water. It was late, she was hungry, and her apartment was welcoming but devoid of food. She’d have to go back out again.

She exited out of her bathroom door in a tank top and boy shorts, towel drying her hair.

“Hi, Sameen,” Root was sitting on her bed with her laptop open.

“Can’t you knock?”

“You were busy so I let myself in.” Root looked up from her work, she lifted up a brown paper bag that was at her side, “Someone told me you didn’t eat.”

 “If it doesn’t have extra mustard, I’ll kick your ass.”

 “Don’t worry, I know what you like,” Root said with a grin.

 Root’s double innuendo wasn’t lost on Shaw and she rolled her eyes, taking the bag from Root’s grip. She sat down next to her on the bed, pulling out the sandwich. They had become accustomed to this when Root was in New York. Shaw stopped kicking Root out and Root stopped destroying her locks. Root stole a key instead and Shaw never asked for it back.

“What’s this?” Shaw pointed to Root’s laptop after she pulled back the wrapping to her sandwich. It looked like bank statements.

“I’m working on something with your current employers.” Root scrolled down on her laptop. It looked like the statements went back for several years.

“Why do you have me there? The number I’m after isn’t at that hell.”

“Patience, Sameen. You know holding off always has a great reward.”

“Shut-Up.” Shaw took a large bite of her sandwich. She didn’t press the subject of the number again.

Root continued to work at her side and quickly, Shaw’s sandwich was gone. Taking out a bag of chips, Shaw opened the bag with a rustle and a pop. She tried to make sense of what Root was working on but all she could figure out was what she had first seen. Toy Castles was making a large amount of money but it wasn’t from toys.

“There is another bag of chips in the bag, can you get them out?” Root asked.

“Uh-huh.” Shaw dug in the brown paper bag and pulled out some Cheetos.

They ate their chips in silence as Root worked.

Eventually, Shaw got bored and she pulled back the covers to her side of the bed. She faced her back towards Root and fell asleep. She’d have another long day at the toy shop tomorrow. Hopefully, it would be more interesting than hanging up decorations and making wreaths.

                                                            >>>

Four days passed. Nothing happened that was worth noting. It was no surprise that Shaw wanted to strangle someone more than normal. What made it worse was that she was having a particularly bad morning. It might have been because she dropped her bagel on the sidewalk as she walked to the toy shop. The day was already shaping up to be horrible.

Shaw walked into the back to clock in.

“Psst, Shaw,” A voice came from the distance as Shaw clocked in. She knew who that voice belonged to. Leon was hiding behind a potted plant between the vending machine.

“What do you want Leon?” Shaw really didn’t feel like dealing with him.

“I need your help,” His voice sounded shaky.

“You want me to ask David for your lunch money back?” Shaw said sarcastically.

“What?” He looked confused for a moment, “Yes… um, but there is something worse.” He got out from behind the plant and looked both ways down the hall before continuing, “Follow me.”

Shaw had no idea what he was up to but if it was anything to make her day exciting she was up for it. They walked to the break-room and the employee lockers. No one else was in the room. Most of the employees were already out on the sales floor or the back stockroom.

“Leon, what the hell is going on?” She watched him as he stopped at his locker and looked around the room cautiously again.

“Don’t judge okay, it’s not mine,” He said and opened his locker slowly. He pulled out a large paper bag and opened it for Shaw to see.

Several bags of cocaine were inside.

“What the hell?” Shaw looked back up at Leon.

“It’s not mine I swear,” Leon closed the paper bag. He practically threw it back inside his locker and clasped the lock in a hurry.

“Who gave you that?”

“David,” Leon said in a whisper, “He wants me to deliver it to this address on Christmas eve.” Leon handed her a note with an address on it.

“Why do you get all the fun?” Shaw replied as she read the address.

“Fun?” Leon started in a harsh whisper, “This isn’t fun. David said something about proving my loyalty but I don’t want to prove anything. He said if I told anyone he’d kill me.”

“When did this start?”

“When David stole my lunch money the first time… and when Laney stole it the second… and-”

“Okay, I get it. You have gullible written all over you.” Shaw handed Leon back the note with the address, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I tried!” Leon’s voice raised. He quickly clasped his hand over his mouth.

“Okay, fair. I’m going with you to the address so stop freaking out. Who else is involved in this?”

“Practically everyone at the store,” Leon took a deep breath in.

“Why didn’t I hear about this?”

“Because they’re scared of you!” Leon started to walk away from his locker. He still looked uneasy.

“Okay.” This was understandable. It also made sense where the toy store was getting all its money.

“Okay-okay, I need to get out of here now. Get back on the floor and act as if nothing happened. They’re not going to kill me right? Or am I going to get arrested and sent to jail? I’m too handsome for jail. I’ll be fresh meat, it’ll be a mess! What if I die? I don’t want to die on Christmas,” Leon started rambling.

Shaw walked behind him and let him continue his speech. He needed to get the energy out and she wouldn’t have to listen to him again when she went to the back stockroom.

Her bad mood was starting to lift. Finally, something interesting was happening.

                                                           >>>

“You can’t have me going in there alone,” Leon clutched the brown paper bag to his chest. It was the night of Christmas eve and nothing was stirring on the street. A dark and ominous apartment complex loomed over them in a shady part of the city. He was there to deliver the contents of the bag.

“I’m only a call away,” Shaw said as she pointed at her ear. They both had an earpiece so they could communicate with each other.

“But what if it’s a trap?”

“I’ll bust you out of it.”

“You sure?”

 “Leon,” She gave him a glare.

“Yeah, sure,” Leon gulped, he hesitated for a moment, “Where is the tall guy and the dog?” He asked, cracking the car door.

“Another number,” Shaw said. Honestly, she would have preferred working on another number herself.

“Oh...” Leon mumbled, “I like working with them better.”

“We can agree on something,” Shaw said under her breath as he exited the car door.

She watched him enter the building and disappear behind the entrance. Shaw didn’t like being on the sidelines but this was the best she could do. She took out her DSLR camera and pointed it at the apartment complex.

Taking several photographs, she really couldn’t get a focus on anything interesting. She had Leon take his phone and leave it recording in the inside pocket of his jacket. Hopefully, he can capture some audio that would be useful to whatever Root was working on. With her camera, Shaw was unable to capture anything of interest.

For now, all Shaw could do was wait.

The car was starting to get cold, he had been in the building for a while. It might have been a mistake sending him alone. He wasn’t trained like her or Reese and he wasn’t even a police officer like Fusco. This might have been a mistake. Shaw picked up the camera and tried zooming in on the windows again.

Bang!

A noise that sounded like a door slamming came from her earpiece.

“Shaw, I think I messed up!” Leon’s voice was heard. It was obvious that he was panicked.

“Where are you?” Shaw was on alert, her adrenaline started kicking in. She had been waiting for this moment for a long time.

“Second floor. Come quick!”

Shaw jumped out of the car and rushed towards the building. She knew what apartment room he was in. Second-floor third room to the right, she rushed up the steps of the apartment building. The door to room 204 was slightly cracked. She drew her USP Compact, slowly entering the apartment with her handgun drawn.

She didn’t know what to expect.

The apartment was completely bare of any furniture or decorations but that’s not what stood out. A tall man was standing in the center of the living room.

“Oh, so you are a snitch.” The man spotted her entering the room.

           Shaw couldn’t tell who he was because his face was covered in a ski mask but she recognized his voice and his build.

The man was David.

“Shaw, wait!” Leon was in the corner of the room. His hands were up with his palms up at his sides. David had a gun pointed at him.

“Quiet, snitch!” He yelled at Leon.

“David, I know it’s you.” Shaw got closer to him. She didn’t lower her gun.

“Damnit, I knew you weren’t a decorator,” David said, he kept the gun pointed at Leon.

“Are you working alone?” Shaw asked. The whole situation was tense. Shaw knew that any wrong move would set David off.

“I’m not answering your questions,” David shifted uncomfortably, “If you get any closer, I’ll shoot.”

“Wait!” Leon said, he backed away as far as he could until he hit a wall. “I know you were ordered to do this from mister toy master himself. The guy who owns Toy Castles, right?”

“Shut-up,” David growled at Leon.

“No, I know this is how you start this whole drug thing. You take some easy people off the street, pay them minimum wage in New York but then offer them big money to sell some drugs so they won’t go homeless.” Leon continued.

“I said, shut up!” David was getting even more agitated.

Shaw kept the gun pointed at David. Shaw realized that Leon was an easy mark but he wasn’t a coward. She let him continue without intervening.

“This was the test? You give them the drugs and see if they deliver it back to you? What do you do if they fail, do you kill them?” Leon asked.

“That’s right, this is a test, I guess you’re sharper than you look. I’ve never had this before though,” He pointed at Shaw, “ Didn’t even know you two were friends. Guess, I’m going to have to kill you both.”

“No, wait!” Leon yelled.

Shaw only had time to react, everything after this point was a blur.

Three gunshots went off. With a thud, two bodies hit the floor.

                                                            >>>

Tree sap clung to Shaw’s fingers for the last time. She tried to wash it out with shampoo in the shower. It was late, Shaw had another long night that was stretching into the early morning.

It hadn’t been a bad night.

Shaw walked out of her bathroom towel drying her hair. She was in a tank top and boy shorts. The night was almost the same as every other night but this time she didn’t have to worry about going back to the toy shop the next morning.

“Hey stranger, Merry Christmas” Root was sitting on Shaw’s bed. She was messing with Leon’s phone and wearing an ugly sweater and pajama pants.

“Is it Christmas?”

“It’s past midnight, sweetie,” Root smiled, “Ready for a present?”

“I hope you brought food,” Shaw ignored her.

“Don’t worry Sameen, I brought some take-out.”

Shaw grinned, she was starving and Root always seemed to know what she was in the mood for.

“I’ll take that phone back to Leon tomorrow. He won’t even notice it’s gone. He’s too busy poking at his new bruise,” Shaw sat down next to Root. They opened the Chinese takeout and started splitting up the food.

She was glad that Root suggested that Leon should take a bulletproof vest. He hid it under his large winter coat and after the events of the last several hours, she didn’t really hate him. He had earned her respect. In the face of danger, there weren’t many people who would take a bullet. He fared better than David, who would need knee surgery for two busted kneecaps.

“You know you could have just sent the audio file to me as an attachment.”

“So?” Shaw didn’t really care, “Did you get all the information you needed?”

“I think so.” Root picked up a wallet that had belonged to David. She pulled out a driver’s license with the name Dylan Marks. It had David’s picture on it, the photo ID revealing his real name.

“I guess David was the perp,” Shaw shrugged. That was too bad when they were working together, she actually liked him. Although, he was probably trying to keep his head down. It made him less annoying compared to everyone else but he was just trying to not bring attention to himself.

“Too bad it’s over. I’m going to miss you in that elf costume.” Root smiled.

“If you mention me wearing that one more time-” Shaw trailed.

“Yeah?” Root raised her eyebrows.

“I’ll kick your ass,” Shaw stared at Root and angrily stuffed some sweet and sour chicken in her mouth. She wanted to forget that elf costume ever existed.

“Oh, sounds fun.” Root smiled and took a bite of her own orange chicken.

They ate in silence, enjoying each other’s company. Outside it started to snow. This was one of the better Christmases Shaw could remember having in a long time.

Root was going to trick Shaw into drinking it and then ask if she liked Root, if she like-liked Root. She grinned at Shaw, putting the travel mug on the table between them. Shaw winked at her, a half-eaten sausage in her hand. There was a Quidditch match after lunch, and Shaw was a Slytherin Beater. She needed the energy. Root looked over her food options and started filling her plate.

“Great news,” Zoe said, sitting appearing across from them. “I found some old radio shows on vinyl and Headmaster McGonagall said she’d lend us her Gramophone. Not as good as a television, but it’s something.”

“Radio shows?” Shaw repeated with her mouth full. Rolling her eyes, she tossed the last bite of her sausage onto her plate. “Jesus, I might as well have gone to visit my grandmother.”

“But then you wouldn’t get to spend time with me,” Root joked. She spread butter over a bread roll. It had been her suggestion to stay at school over the break. “I’m better than your grandma.”

Shaw snorted, pushing her plate away. “That’s debatable.”

Root didn’t take the insult to heart. She knew that Shaw liked spending time with her. That’s why she was going to give her the Veritaserum. Shaw was interested in her; she just needed a little push. Root bit into her roll and smiled happily.

A hand lightly touched her jaw, turning her face. Shaw raised an eyebrow, her eyes glittering with amusement. Licking her lips, Root blushed at the feel of Shaw’s firm grip. Tilting her head, Shaw picked up a napkin from the table with her free hand and wiped the side of Root’s mouth.

“Butter,” Shaw told her. She released Root’s face. “You’re a mess.”

Root just took a giant bit of bread, making sure that even more butter covered her mouth this time. “Whoops.”

“Wow,” Zoe laughed. “You two are so gross. Get a room!”

Shaw picked up a piece of fish from the large dish in the center of the table and tossed it at her. Zoe dodged with a squeal. She glared at Shaw, dipping her fingers into her glass of pumpkin juice and flicking the liquid across the table. This time Shaw had to dodge, sliding away from Root to avoid the splatter.

“Watch the uniform!” Shaw grabbed her napkin again, wiping off the bench. “I have a game soon. I need to look sharp for my fans.”

Shaw brushed imaginary juice from her uniform, and Root took the opportunity to look her over. She loved when Shaw played Quidditch, because the uniform suited her so well. The long-sleeve shirt accentuated her biceps, and the pants emphasized her thighs. She wore pants most days, instead of the usual skirt, but those were dress pants and these were flexible cotton, much more flattering.

She moved back into her place, her arm brushing against Root’s. Resisting the urge to lean against her, Root looked at her travel mug. This wasn’t the best idea. Root and Shaw had been friends ever since they’d both landed in detention with Professor Flitwick for starting a fire in his class. Technically, they’d been learning Lumos, but Root had bragged that she already knew Incendio and Shaw had dared her to prove it. Root couldn’t say no to a dare.

That had been their first year. Now, they were sixth years and still just friends. Root wanted more than that, but she didn’t want to risk their friendship. So, instead, she was contemplating a scheme that was actually a horrible idea. Shaw trusted her, and Root didn’t really want to force Shaw into anything. They’d always avoided the subject of dating.

Root had never told Shaw that she liked girls, and Shaw had never said it either. She knew she did, though. A few times over the years, Root had caught her making out with girls in dark corners of the hallways. She’d caught her with boys, too, but that didn’t make Root as jealous. It was seeing Shaw with girls that hurt.

Of course, Root had some doubt that Shaw liked her. It was impossible to know for sure. Without a truth potion, anyway. What if she did like Root, but didn’t want a relationship? Would she even say anything about it in the Great Hall? Maybe this should be done privately. With a sigh, she decided not to go through with her plan. She used her napkin to wipe her face off and finished her bread.

“Are you coming to the game?” Shaw asked her. “It’s a sure win for us. Hufflepuff’s seeker is garbage.”

Root smiled. “Of course.” She gestured to her Slytherin scarf. “I have to support my girl.”

An odd look crossed Shaw’s face and she turned away to stare down at her plate. Root opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but a shadow fell across the table and distracted her. She saw their friends standing behind them and grinned.

Fusco was wearing his Quidditch robes, too, yellow and black for Hufflepuff. He was a beater, like Shaw. Reese, Harold, and Joss all wore Hufflepuff scarves, even though Harold was in Ravenclaw and Reese and Joss were in Gryffindor. Shaw looked at them and scowled.

“Oh, come on.” She waved to their scarves. “I know you have to cheer for both of us, but why do you have to wear his colors?”

“Us guys have to stick together,” Fusco told her. Her jerked his thumb at Joss. “She owes me a galleon.”

Joss rolled her eyes. “I’m going to burn this after the game.”

“I’ll help,” Zoe joked, grinning. “We’ll burn all the losers’ scarves.”

A bell rang from the tower above them, signaling the new hour. The Quidditch game was going to start soon and Fusco and his ‘fans’ hurried away, taking Zoe with them. Technically, the Quidditch season was over because of the winter break, but a game had gotten delayed after a bad flu had gone around the castle. After today, the castle would be almost empty as everyone who was only staying for the game went home.

Shaw sighed, picking up one last sausage and climbing off the bench. If she had the choice, Shaw would sit in front of feast until it disappeared. There was always the dinner feast, though. Shaw had also befriended the elves in the kitchen and she got snacks whenever she wanted them. She’d already asked them to pack a basket for the listening party they had planned later.

Root lifted her knees, holding her skirt as she swung her legs over the bench. Even after six years, she forgot that she wore skirts sometimes. There had been some embarrassing moments after late night study sessions or adventures, when she was too sleepy to care about modesty. Shaw smirked at her as she stood up carefully.

“Don’t forget your mug,” Shaw said, picking it up. She popped the lid open and sniffed it. “Did you put water in a thermos?”

“Yup,” Root lied. She shrugged, trying to look casual. “It’s got some, uh, herbs. For focus. Yeah, I need to do some studying today. Later.”

Shaw gave her a skeptical look. “Studying? During the holiday? I can’t let you be that nerd.”

Laughing, Root relaxed, glad that the lie had worked. She held her hand out. “Can I just have my drink, please?”

“No.”

Shaw lifted the mug, but Root leapt forward, snatching it from her hands. Panicked, Root chugged it. It burned her throat and she knew right away that it had worked. She lowered the mug, gasping for air after her long drink. Shaw was staring at her like she had a second head.

“Ok, weirdo.” Shaw chuckled. She pointed a finger at Root, narrowing her eyes. “You’re not using that focus to study. You’ll focus on something fun, like Wizard’s Chess or eating cake.”

Root smiled nervously, trying not to speak. She wasn’t entirely sure if Veritaserum made you blurt out the truth, or if it just made you incapable of lying. Either way, if Shaw asked her a direct question, then she wouldn’t be able to get out of answering.

“Uh, Root? Is there something on my face?”

“No.” Root realized she’d been staring at Shaw. “No. Sorry. Um, we should go. To the game. It starts in… an hour.”

They left the Great Hall, heading for the Quidditch Field with the rest of the late lunch crowd. Shaw didn’t start a conversation, and Root relaxed. She liked that they could be quiet together. Sometimes, Root needed to get away from people, but she never needed to get away from Shaw. They could spend hours sitting in the same room, absorbed in their own activities.

It’s one of the reasons Root had fallen in love with her. It was so easy to be with Shaw. She never asked Root to be anything she wasn’t, to be any less. They could talk about anything, and Shaw always seemed interested in her thoughts. Root was grateful to have found such a great friend and she was glad she hadn’t gone through with her plan.

Now, she just had to make it through the night without confessing her feelings. Luckily, Zoe and Joss weren’t leaving until tomorrow morning and they’d be a buffer. Root could just bring up a controversial topic, like what shop in London made the best kebabs, and the three of them would go for hours.

After a short walk through the snow, they got to the Quidditch Field, and Root gave Shaw a smile. She wasn’t allowed in the locker rooms because she wasn’t on the team. Rules didn’t really stop her, but Martine was the captain this year, and she hated Root. One accident in Potions, and Root had made an enemy. Waving goodbye to Shaw, Root started for the steps to the stands, lifting her heavy winter cloak out of the way.

She was stopped by a hand on her arm and she followed it back to Shaw. “Something wrong?” she asked, frowning. She looked up at the tower the steps were in, seeing the familiar green and silver of Slytherin. “Am I in the wrong section?”

“No,” Shaw answered. She pulled her hand away, running it along her ponytail. “I just wanted to say that you look good today.”

Looking down at the same robes she wore most days, she laughed. “I look the same as I do every day. Do you suddenly have a thing for robes and cloaks?”

Rolling her eyes, Shaw pushed Root lightly toward the stairs. “Whatever, nerd. Just go.”

Root watched her walk into the hallway that led to the locker rooms, wondering what that was about. Shaw never complimented her in such a straightforward way. It was usually “copying my style? At least you look good in ponytails” or “Want to do our homework together? You’re the only one in our year I can stand.” Root had gotten really good at de-coding what Shaw meant, and it was strange to get a clear message.

Shaking her head, Root hurried up to the stands, finding Zoe. They didn’t really like anyone else in Slytherin besides Shaw, and they spent most of their time in the Gryffindor common room, especially now that Joss was a prefect. She gave them the password every time it changed.

Quidditch was always fun to watch, but Root loved when Shaw was playing. She was so confident in the air, and with a bat in her hand. Her ponytail streamed from her helmet as she flew, whipping in the wind. Occasionally, she’d glance at Root, winking or just grinning. She loved to show off, hitting beaters clear across the pitch. When they played Hufflepuff, she’d always aim for Hersch.

The game was over in two hours. Slytherin won by an embarrassing number of points. They’d had nearly 200 by the time Harper caught the Snitch, a clear win no matter what. Fusco gave Shaw the middle finger instead of a handshake and Shaw whacked him in the arm with her bat, nearly knocking him off his broom.

After following the crowd down the stairs, Root leaned against the wall outside the Slytherin locker room, turning her travel mug over in her hands. She hadn’t been able to talk to Zoe too much during the game, but she’d tried a few times to lie. Zoe had asked her the name of the Hufflepuff Chaser, and Root had tried to say Fusco, but when she opened her mouth, ‘Hersch’ had come out instead. She’d also been unable to say the wrong score, or that she needed to leave and go study.

Clearly, she’d made a good potion. Veritaserum was pretty advanced, and usually only N.E.W.T students knew how to make it. It had been easy for Root. The hardest part was waiting a whole month for it to finish maturing. Patience wasn’t her strong suit.

The locker room door opened, and Root looked up. Shaw saw her and nodded, hiking her bag on her shoulder. She’d showered, apparently, her long hair loose and hanging around her shoulders. Her uniform was also gone. Instead, she wore muggle clothing, black sweatpants and a thick Slytherin sweatshirt.

“You look great,” Root said instead of a normal greeting. She blushed. “I mean, you obviously showered. You smell really nice.”

She felt her face heat up even more and looked away, cursing herself silently. Sticking her travel mug under her arm, she wrapped her cloak around herself and walked toward the exit. It was warm in the hallway by the locker rooms, but it would be freezing outside. The sun had just started setting and it was taking the meager warmth with it.

“Thanks,” Shaw muttered behind her. She moved to Root’s side and followed her out into the snowy grounds. “I know that Zoe hates when I get sweat on the Common Room’s couches.”

“Zoe also hates when you leave your stinky socks lying around,” Root said, smiling. “That never stops you, though.”

Shaw snorted. “No, it doesn’t.”

They walked back to the castle, talking about the game, and Root somehow managed to keep herself from complimenting Shaw again. It was going to be hard to keep her thoughts to herself until the potion wore off. She could distract them until they started the radio shows. Then, knowing Joss, there wouldn’t be any talking allowed.

Once they got back to the castle, they made their way down to the dungeons and the Slytherin common room. Since it was just a girls’ night, Joss was coming to them. Root led the way up to their room, thankfully shedding her heavy cloak and hanging it on the coat rack.

She kicked off her shoes as Shaw dropped her bag onto her bed. They’d been roommates since first year and knew each other’s habits well. Shaw liked to empty her bag before she got comfortable, putting her uniform in her clothes hamper and her shoes in the wardrobe. Then, she’d disappear into the bathroom for a bit, coming back out to fall on her bed and wait for someone to make her be social.

Root liked to change into comfortable clothes immediately. She started undressing, feeling better with every piece gone. Once she was only in her bra and underwear, she moved to her wardrobe, opening drawers until she found her pajamas. They were thick flannel, red gingham, and the most comfortable thing she’d ever worn. They’d been a gift from Shaw three Christmases ago, after her final growth spurt.

She finished buttoning the shirt and dug her wand out of her cloak pocket before climbing into her bed. Her travel mug sat on her side table, taunting her. She waved her wand at it, turning it to dust. Being in bed, wearing her pajamas, made her want to just go to sleep and wake up once the effects had gone away.

Shaw came out of the bathroom and dramatically flung herself up onto her bed. Rolling onto her back, she let her head hang off the edge, staring at Root upside down. Root lay on her stomach, feet kicking in the air as she waited for Shaw to say something. With another flick of her wand, she conjured spectral butterflies.

They watched them flicker around the room until one landed on Shaw’s nose. She swatted it, turning it to smoke. With a sigh, she rolled over onto her stomach, too, looking around the room.

“When is Joss coming over?”

“I don’t know,” Root answered truthfully. She remembered to watch her words. “Zoe didn’t give us a time.”

“Great,” Shaw mumbled, rolling her eyes. “That means she wants to spend hours making out with Reese. God knows when we’ll start the shows.”

“I would never kiss a boy,” Root said, unprompted. She gasped, her face warming up. Licking her lips, she tried again. “I like girls.”

Shaw stared across the room at her, face unreadable. Root stayed as still as possible. She felt like she could spook Shaw if she moved too quickly, or said anything else. Over the years, Root had learned that Shaw had a very strong fight-or-flight reaction. She hoped she hadn’t ruined their night.

“Boys are gross,” Shaw finally said, looking away. “Reese even more, so. I’d rather die than kiss him.”

Root laughed, the tension draining from her body. “Zoe just likes that he’s tall.”

Shaw shrugged. “I like tall people.”

“I’m tall,” Root blurted out before she could stop herself. Shaw tilted her head, giving her a thoughtful look. Taking a breath, Root opened her mouth to just tell Shaw that she liked her, but Zoe walked into the room and she lost her nerve. “Zoe!”

Shaw sat up, apparently distracted by Zoe’s entrance. “When are we doing this? It’s almost dinner time.”

“Hold your horses,” Zoe told her, crossing between their beds to get to her own. “Joss is going to come down after the feast and we’ll set up in here.” She stopped at her desk and pulled out a small scroll. “It wouldn’t be much of a girls’ ‘night’ if it started before it was even dark.”

“Good point.”

Sitting up, Root looked down at her pajamas and sighed. “It’s not acceptable to eat dinner in pajamas.”

“Since when has ‘acceptable’ stopped you?” Shaw asked her, grinning. “Everyone’s gone, anyway. Just put the shoes on.”

Returning her grin, Root scrambled out of bed to her wardrobe. The pajamas had come with a pair of bunny slippers, large ears standing straight up. Root hardly wore them because she didn’t want to get them dirty, but now seemed like the perfect time. She dropped them to the floor and slid her feet into them, wiggling her toes to move the ears.

“I love when you give me gifts,” Root said, happily. She closed her wardrobe and turned to face the other girls. “I like knowing you think about me.”

Zoe gave her an amused glance before continuing to write on her scroll. She was probably writing down a piece of gossip she’d just heard so she wouldn’t forget. Realizing that she’d said something weird again, Root sighed, rubbing her forehead. Maybe she should just stop talking altogether. Looking at Shaw, she met her narrowed eyes. She seemed to be thinking about something and Root gave her a nervous smile.

“Dinner?” she asked them, pointing at the door with her thumb. “I’m hungry.”

Shaw nodded, sliding off her bed. She picked up her wand from where she’d tossed it on her pillow and slid into the front pocket of her sweatshirt. That reminded Root to get hers and she picked it up off her bed. There weren’t any pockets in her pajamas and she wasn’t sure where to put it.

“Here,” Shaw murmured from beside her. She took the wand from Root, their hands brushing. Shaw’s hand was callused from riding her broom, and her soft touch always accentuated rough skin. She put Root’s wand in her pocket with her own. “I’ll hold it.”

She walked away before Root could thank her, disappearing out the door. Root rubbed her hands together, trying to save the feeling of Shaw’s hand on hers. Zoe put her note back in her desk and headed for the door. She hooked her arm through Root’s, dragging her out of their bedroom. They caught up with Shaw quickly, the three of them ready for dinner.

As they walked, Shaw kept a close watch on her. It made Root hyper aware of herself, and she made an extra effort not to speak. Zoe chatted idly about Joss and her new boyfriend, but Root barely heard a word of it. All of her focus was on keeping herself from saying something embarrassing.

When they got to the Great Hall, Zoe peeled off to sit with other friends and Shaw and Root made their way to their usual spot at the Slytherin table. It was weird to see the Great Hall so empty, even though Root had spent every holiday break at the castle. It was always packed during the school year and the quiet of the holiday was loud in the large space. There were even fewer people than there had been at lunch. Apparently, the Quidditch game ending caused a mass exodus.

They sat down and Shaw immediately started stacking food on her plate. Root laughed, taking food at a reasonable pace. Shaw was a bottomless pit, always hungry and never gaining weight. Root had been watching her exercise for years, and knew how many calories she burned. Taking a large bite of turkey sandwich, Shaw shifted in her chair, pulling up a leg and facing Root.

“So,” Shaw said with her mouth full, “I have a theory.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” She narrowed her eyes, squinting dangerously at Root. “I think something is different about you.”

Root’s eyes widened and she busied herself cutting a piece of steak into bite-sized pieces. “Something is different about me.” She closed her eyes, cursing herself. She quickly tried to think of something that was different about her other than ‘I can’t tell lies.’ “I… usually wear my skin color hearing aid, but I’m today, I’m wearing my black hearing aid.”

She stuffed a piece of steak into her mouth to avoid saying anything else. A glance at Shaw told her that her excuse wasn’t good enough. Shaw took another bite of her sandwich, chewing slowly as she looked Root over. If Shaw asked again, Root could say she was wearing pajamas at lunch, or she’d forgotten to floss.

“That’s not it.” She put her sandwich down, leaning her arms on the table and sweeping her eyes over Root again. “You’re acting weirdly.”

Root clenched her jaw and didn’t answer. Anything that came out of her mouth right now would be bad. She chewed with determination, staring down at the table. Swallowing, she picked up a glass of water, taking slow sips.

Shaw’s gaze landed on the glass and a slow smiled spread across her face. She shook a finger at Root, clicking her tongue. Chuckling, she leaned toward Root and lowered her voice.

“You’re drunk.”

Root frowned, surprised at Shaw’s conclusion. She put her glass down. “I’m not drunk.”

“Don’t deny it,” Shaw teased, winking. “That wasn’t water in your travel mug, was it?”

“No,” Root answered, sighing. “It was not just water.”

Shaw laughed, clapping her hands. “You dog! I can’t believe you didn’t share! I didn’t even smell alcohol. Was there a charm on it?”

“No,” Root said again. She shook her head. “It wasn’t alcohol. I’m not drunk. I promise.”

“Then what?” Shaw demanded, crossing her arms. “Something is going on. You never compliment me.”

Root frowned. “I compliment you.”

“No, you don’t.” Shaw shrugged. “I don’t care. I’m just saying that you don’t.”

“I think you’re wonderful. You’re beautiful, smart, talented, and a great friend. I think about you constantly, and you look really hot in your Quidditch uniform.”

Root gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe she’d just said all that, unprompted. The other compliments had been casual, and she could pass it off as friendship, but friends didn’t call each other hot. She could feel her face and neck grow warm, and new she was completely red. All this blushing was going to give her a headache.

Shaw just scratched her chin and looked away, turning back to her food. “Thanks.”

Taking a deep breath, Root looked around the Great Hall for an out. She wasn’t sure what was worse, Shaw turning her down or Shaw only saying ‘thanks’ to her compliments. It didn’t have to be a big display, but Root would like a clue into what she was thinking. Sighing, she reached across the table for a cinnamon roll, deciding she felt more like dessert than dinner.

“You’re pretty hot, too.”

Root’s hands froze as they tore the roll apart. The sentence had been so quiet that she thought she might have imagined it. Shaw was eating her sandwich again, not looking at Root. It had never felt awkward to be together, but Root was about ready to run away. She wasn’t sure what to do, and just sat still, her fingers still inside the cinnamon roll.

“If it wasn’t alcohol,” Shaw mumbled around her food, “what was in your mug?”

“Veritaserum.”

Shaw’s eyes widened and she coughed, dropping the last piece of her sandwich on to her plate and hitting her chest with her fist. Root handed her a glass of water, watching her gulp it down. Gasping, she put it on the table and wiped her mouth on the sleeve of her sweatshirt.

“Veritaserum?” she repeated, surprised. “A whole mug of-“

“No! I’m not an idiot. It was just a few drops in water.”

“Still,” she breathed. She crossed her legs in front of her on the bench, facing Root fully. “That means you can’t lie right now, right?”

Root nodded, pushing her hand behind her ear. “It only lasts twelve hours, so I’ll be back to normal tomorrow.

Shaw counting on her fingers and grinned. “I have until one am to learn all your secrets.”

“Oh no,” Root laughed, holding her hands up. “Don’t take this as a challenge.”

Another odd look crossed her face, and she licked her lips. “Do you keep a lot of secrets from me?”

Taking a deep breath, Root wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t know what the truth was. There were things she hadn’t told Shaw, but did that mean they were secrets? Shaw didn’t know about her feelings, or her late night trips to the Astronomy tour to stargaze, or the bone deep need she had to prove her worth and skill. Root didn’t talk about that, about how much she ached to be an adult and really explore the limits of her magic.

“Only a few,” she said, giving her a small smile. “I like having something of my own.”

Shaw nodded sharply, her lips pursed. “Yeah. I get that.”

Root licked her lips, fiddling with the stem of her goblet. It felt like she should offer a secret to Shaw, but she didn’t know what to say. There should be a spell that made you say the right thing at the right time. Shaw would love that. Root smiled, and tapped on Shaw’s knee.

“Here’s a secret,” she breathed, leaning close. “I saw you kissing Kelly after a Quidditch game last year.”

Shaw sniffed, shrugging. “Did you? Whatever. I’m not embarrassed.”

“You never are.” Root tapped her knee again, grinning. “I like that about you.”

“Ok, drunkie,” Shaw snorted. She pushed Root away half-heartedly. “You’re the one without shame. Wearing gingham pajamas and bunny slippers to the dinner feast?”

Root gasped, her mouth dropping open. “You told me to!”

“I know,” Shaw joked, her nose crinkling with mirth. “Gotcha.”

They laughed, and Root felt relieved that they were still joking. Whether or not she admitted her feelings tonight, she wanted to have fun. It was nearly Christmas and midterm exams had been difficult. They deserved to have a good time over the break.

“Hey,” Zoe said, appearing on the other side of the table with Joss. “Ready?”

Root nodded, and climbed over the bench, grabbing her cinnamon roll. “For the road,” she told Shaw. “I don’t like wasting food.”

“Well, in that case…” Shaw spread out a napkin and put a sandwich in the middle of it. She carefully placed two bread rolls, and two sausages on top and tied it into a neat package. Picked it up, she winked at Root. “For the road.”

By the time the four of them got to the Slytherin Dormitory, Shaw had eaten almost everything she’d packed away. Root’s cinnamon bun was gone, too, and she licked her fingers clean, savoring the sweetness. There was a pack of cookies beneath Shaw’s bed that Root might bring out later. Nothing said ‘Christmas’ like sweets.

They walked through the Common Room to the dorms, and Root looked up. The Slytherin Common Room was below the Great Lake, and Root loved to watch the various creatures that lived in the lake. She’d made friends with a few merfolk who knew sign language, and sometimes when she couldn’t sleep, she’d lay against a glass wall and watch them tell stories.

“Want the last sausage?” Shaw asked, bringing Root’s attention back to their group.

She shook her head, following the others up the stairs. “No, thanks. You eat it.”

Shaw nodded, finishing it in two large bites. Root laughed at her, amazed as always by her bottomless stomach. She climbed onto Shaw’s bed, kicking her slippers off and pulling the covers up over herself.

Zoe was setting the Gramophone up on her desk, carefully handling one of the vinyls she’d found. There was a large basket on Shaw’s trunk from the house elves. Shaw rubbed her hands together excitedly and opened it. She pulled out various Christmas cookies and cakes, putting them onto Root’s bed.

“Tonight, we dine like kings!” Shaw announced loudly. Joss came over to look at the selection and Shaw grinned proudly, as if she’d made it all herself. “I love Hogwarts.”

“Me too,” Root agreed. She burrowed into the blankets, pouting at Shaw. “Bring me cookies?”

Rolling her eyes, Shaw picked up the package of snickerdoodles and climbed onto her bed. She gave them to Root before taking her shoes off, putting their wands on her nightstand, and getting into bed, too. Scooting close to Shaw, Root took a cookie from the package, taking a bite and humming with pleasure.

“Alright,” Zoe said, winding the Gramophone. “The first one is a murder mystery.”

The night passed uneventfully, with jokes and kebab debates. Root almost forgot that she was still under the effects of Veritaserum. They listened to old radio shows for hours, eating sweets and laying in bed. Like Root had predicted, Joss kept them quiet during the shows. Shaw didn’t even try and get any secrets out of her.

Root found herself dozing off around 10, warm and comfortable in Shaw’s bed. They’d fallen asleep in the same bed before, and Root always said that Shaw’s bed was better than hers. It must be bigger, or have a better mattress, or some enchantment that made it nearly impossible to leave. The best benefit to being in Shaw’s bed was, of course, Shaw herself.

Throughout the evening, Shaw and Root had gotten closer, and now Root lay in the circle of Shaw’s arms, their legs tangled together, and her head on Shaw’s chest. She couldn’t bring herself to feel shy or nervous. It felt so right to be held by Shaw like this, and Root just wished she could press a kiss to Shaw’s collarbone.

She was almost asleep when the last record finished and she groaned as Shaw shifted beneath her. “No,” she mumbled into Shaw’s sweatshirt. “I want to fall asleep against you.”

Shaw stiffened for a moment before settling back into the bed. She pulled away for a moment and then came back. Her arm moved and Root opened her eyes just enough to see the food on their bed floating back over to Root’s. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around Shaw, brushing her face against thick fabric.

“I’m going to sleep in Joss’ room,” Zoe said quietly. “Have a good night.”

Root didn’t hear Shaw answer, so she just stayed where she was, relishing the closeness. They’d never fallen asleep like this before, and she wasn’t sure if she’d wake up to find Shaw gone. Yawning, Root pushed her hands under the back of Shaw’s sweatshirt, pressing them against her skin, slightly sweaty from the hours of lying in bed.

“I still have 15 minutes.”

“Hmm?” Root sucked in air through her nose, struggling to stay awake. “Til what?”

“Until you can lie again,” Shaw answered. She brushed a hand over Root’s hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Did you think I forgot?”

Root had hoped she did forget. No one had talked for a while, and she’d managed to keep her mouth shut. Shaw’s fingers ran through her hair again, nails scratching lightly on her scalp, and Root melted into the bed.

“Your hands feel amazing,” Root breathed. “Keep touching me.”

Shaw’s hand stilled. “Can I ask you a question?”

Root felt her stomach drop, the warm, sleepy mood leaving her. She nodded against Shaw’s chest. “Of course.”

“Do you…” She took a slow breath. “Do you… like anyone?”

Chuckling, Root looked up at her. Shaw almost looked scared, her jaw clenched and her eyes narrow. She wasn’t really scared, and even if Root said no, she’d be fine, but it was nice that she wanted to know if Root liked her. When Root didn’t answer right away, Shaw clicked her tongue and smoothed her face.

“Whatever. I don’t care. It doesn’t- “

“I’ve been in love with you for four years.” Root sighed, closing her eyes. She hadn’t meant to say that. So much for playing it cool and just saying she had a crush. “Since you fixed my nose after Martine broke it second year.”

Shaw’s eyes widened. “Four years? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Well, you started kissing people the next year, and I figured if you liked me, too, you would say something.”

“I thought you would say something!” Shaw pulled away, scooting down the bed so her head was level with Root’s on the pillows. “You never hold back when you want something.”

“I’d rather be your friend forever than lose you.” Root sighed, taking her arms back and pulling the blanket up to her chin. “I hate seeing you kiss other girls. You should be kissing me.” She smiled. “See, it’s the truth.”

Shaw rolled her eyes. “That’s not how Veritaserum works. It just makes you say what you think is true. Doesn’t make it a universal truth.”

That hurt her. She knew how Shaw was, blunt and unempathetic, but it still didn’t feel good to hear her say they shouldn’t kiss like it was obvious. Root blinked, fighting back tears. She thought this would be her best Christmas ever, but it was starting to be her worst. Pushing the blankets down, she sat up.

“I’ll sleep in my own bed,” she whispered. “Forget I said anything.”

“What?” Shaw sat up, frowning. “Why?”

“You don’t like me back. It’s ok. It just really hurts.” She started getting out of the bed. “I’ll be fine tomorrow. We can pretend this never happened.”

Shaw grabbed her arm, keeping her in the bed. Closing her eyes, Root didn’t look at her. If she saw Shaw looking even the tiniest bit apologetic, she’d break completely. She took a deep breath and tried to tug her arm away, but Shaw wouldn’t let it go.

“Root,” Shaw said, pulling on her arm. “Don’t be an idiot. Of course I like you back. Just because I explained how Veritaserum works doesn’t mean I don’t want to kiss you. You’re so dramatic.”

Root laughed, wiping her eyes with her free hand. “I’m not dramatic. You just can’t read an emotional situation.”

Her hand dropped off Root’s arm. “Is that bad? You’ve never said anything about it.”

“I don’t care.” She looked over her shoulder now. Shaw was frowning at her, eyebrows drawn down. “I don’t care about any of it. I like that you’re always clear-headed and observant. It’s refreshing, and honest. It just gets annoying sometimes.”

Shaw stuck her tongue out playfully. “Well, your relentless optimism can be annoying, too. Try finishing a scroll with you at two in the morning. I’d need five cups of coffee to keep up.”

Root got back into bed, pulling the covers over her legs. Instead of laying down, she rested her back against the headboard, gazing down at Shaw. “So, what now?”

“What do you mean?”

Rolling her eyes, Root tugged on Shaw’s still loose hair. “Are we girlfriends? Are we pretending this never happened?”

Pushing herself up, Shaw close the distance between them, kissing Root and climbing onto her lap. Their bodies pressed together and Root opened her mouth to deepen the kiss, her eyes fluttering closed. Shaw’s hands tangled in her hair, and she wrapped her arms around her waist.

The kiss was better than she’d imagined, somehow familiar and dangerous at once. It felt like the start of something new, a new way to grow and change. At the same time, they were still the same. Still best friends, roommates, partners. Shaw pressed one last kiss to her lips and pulled away.

“Why did you drink Veritaserum?”

Root blinked at the sudden question. “Just an experiment.”

Looking at her watch, Shaw sighed. “Two minutes passed one. I’ll never know.”

“It’s the truth!” Root laughed, relieved that she was free of the truth potion. She’d answered truthfully anyway. “Trying to test my skills.”

“Oh,” Shaw chuckled, winking, “we’ll test your skills.”