Chapter Text
//Searching Archive...
//Data found...
//System date unknown... rough estimate... 11 months, 24 days ago…
//Data retrieved...
"Jason," Root answered coldly and saw Shaw sit up in bed slightly out of the corner of her eye.
"Heard you've given up trying to look for me," Jason said at the same time as the Machine informed her that she couldn't trace the call. Root hadn't expected anything less from him.
"What do you want?" Root asked, wishing he would just go and never come back, leave them all alone.
"You saved the Machine," Jason said and it wasn't a question. She wondered how he knew.
"I set Her free," Root corrected. "You can't hurt Her now."
"Maybe not," Jason said and she thought she could detect a hint of sadness in his tone and wanted to know if that was fake too, just like the rest of him. "We could have been so great together," Jason continued, "you and me."
"No, Jason," said Root tiredly, closing her eyes, not knowing if he meant utilising both their skills and working together or something else (or maybe both), "we wouldn't have."
She could hear Jason laugh slightly on the other end and she thought, maybe in another life. Maybe in her old life, they would have.
"Until next time then," said Jason. And as he hung up, Root knew there would be a next time. That he would be back when they least expected it. And she couldn't allow that, couldn't allow him to come back and hurt anyone else, destroy their lives again.
"What did he say?" Shaw asked as Root slipped the phone back into her jacket pocket.
"Nothing of importance," said Root with faked breeziness. She wondered if Shaw was frowning at her then, but she was too busy searching for the other item in her jacket to contemplate it much. The cold, hard plastic felt familiar in her hands and she made sure to keep it hidden as she walked back over to the bed and Shaw, watching her curiously. She swallowed nervously when she realised that it wasn't suspicion that Shaw was directing at her, but worry that Jason had said something to her, taunted her and upset her.
Root smiled reassuringly and sat on the edge of the bed.
"I'm sorry," said Root and had to choke back the tears.
"For what?" Shaw asked, frowning in confusion. She was too busy searching Root's face that she didn't notice the taser at her neck until it was too late.
Root looked away as Shaw’s body convulsed. She didn’t need to look to picture the look of wounded betrayal that would be on Shaw’s face, unable to remain hidden as the taser rendered her incapable of controlling her features.
“I know you won’t understand,” said Root, the words slipping out of her mouth like they had to push through an invisible barrier to get into the air, “but I’m doing this to protect you. All of you.”
Shaw’s eyes had turned hard and accusing, the only thing she could do with her body unable to move.
“He’s not going to stop,” Root continued and wiped at her cheeks where a tear had managed to escape despite her best efforts. “I know him. He’ll keep coming back.”
“Root,” Shaw slurred heavily and Root wondered how much it hurt her to speak. “Don’t do this to me again.”
Root closed her eyes briefly, sniffing past the tears and trying to ignore how hard this was, how much it hurt and clawed at her heart. “I love you,” Root whispered, leaning down to speak in Shaw’s ear. “Please remember that.” Root kissed her softly on the lips and stood up before she could give in and change her mind.
The duffel bag with her clothes was still on the floor where she had left it and Root picked it up, slinging it over one shoulder and forcing herself not to look back. She kept her taser, but left the cell phone on the kitchen counter, knowing that they would only try to trace it when Shaw could move again and contact the others.
It was the longest walk of her life, reaching the front door of the apartment, every step feeling heavy, like someone had put weights in her shoes and she wanted to turn and go back with all of her heart. But she didn’t, she forced herself to keep walking, carrying everything she owned and leaving everything that she had built in the last six months, everything that mattered to her, behind.
//Locating Analogue Interface…
//Asset found…
//Location… Bordeaux, France...
//Local time… 19:04…
The restaurant was empty apart from the sole patron sitting at a table in the centre, his back to the front entrance. Root didn't know if it was intentional or not, this emptiness, or who was responsible. The maître de tried to engage her in rapid French as she walked past, but Root ignored him, not understanding the language and not caring what he had to say. She had one mission tonight and he was currently sitting at the only occupied table.
Root wondered if he knew it was her, if that was why he didn't flinch as she walked past him and took the seat opposite. She watched him carefully though, searching features she hadn't seen for a long time for any signs of surprise or fear. There was nothing. Jason Greenfield was a stonewall of blankness as he stared at her, twirling his wine glass in one hand, the ambient lights dancing across the surface of the red liquid.
"Hello, Jason," Root said, leaning over and taking a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. She kept her eyes on him, not daring to give him the upper hand for even a second.
Jason smirked and took another sip of his wine. "How did you find me?"
He sounded more curious than angry; like he was impressed she had managed to track him down after all this time.
Root said nothing and tore off a piece of the bread in her hands, popping it in her mouth. It was more difficult to chew than she had been expecting, and she tried not to let it show.
"She helped you," said Jason, the smirk getting wider and he looked so pleased with himself. "Didn't She?"
Again, Root maintained her silence and didn't even blink when the waiter arrived with Jason's entree: venison, medium-rare. And she couldn't help but remember, long ago, a mission in the days before Samaritan's reign. The four of them sitting in a restaurant finalising plans before heading back to New York. Not that the boys had known much back then.
Jason had the venison then too. Daniel the steak. Root hadn't eaten much herself, too apprehensive, knowing what was to come. And Daizo... She tried not to think about Daizo anymore.
"I almost had you in Budapest," Root said and wondered if it sounded like she was bragging.
"Almost," Jason agreed, cutting into his meal with a steak knife. He was slow and deliberate and Root thought he might be trying to intimidate her. But it was going to take a lot more than a knife to do that. "I'm surprised you survived," Jason continued.
So was I, Root thought, remembering the gun fire and explosions, the small army Jason had sent after her. That wasn't the first time he had dodged her that way, but it was the first close call, the first time She had intervened.
The Budapest doctors had fixed her up, ran their tests and come to the same conclusion as Her: that Root needed to rest, give her body time to heal.
But of course Root hadn't listened.
She went right back to her endless game of cat and mouse, determined to catch up with him.
But Jason had always been at least ten steps ahead. No matter how hard Root tried, he always got away.
Until now.
Until the Machine sent her here on a mission.
Jason chewed on his food as if they were two normal people, as if Jason hadn't tried to kill and torture her once on the same night.
"So," said Jason, washing down his venison with a hearty gulp of red wine. "Are you here to kill me?"
Root laughed; a sharp exhale of breath that was more outrage than amusement. "No, Jason," said Root sadly. "I'm here to ask for your help."
Jason snorted. "And why would I want to help you?" he sneered.
Shrugging casually, Root placed another bit of bread in her mouth. This time it was easier to chew, didn't taste like cardboard and seemed to slide down her throat with more ease.
"Oh, I don't know..." said Root furtively. "Perhaps because of the poison I bribed the waiter to slip into your drink?"
The smile fell from Jason's face, turning into a frown, like he wasn't sure if he could believe her. Root leaned back in her chair, feeling smug and delighting in the way the fear seemed to creep into Jason's features.
"You should be feeling the effects about now," said Root. "Numb lips, tingling tongue. Darkness clouding your eyes."
"You bitch," Jason ground out, dropping his cutlery and clutching at the edges of the table so hard, his knuckles had gone white. Sweat had started forming on his face, drops of it trailing down his forehead and onto his lap. He looked pale and Root knew he would be feeling nauseous by now.
"Now, now, Jason," Root scolded, "is that anyway to talk about the person currently holding the antidote?"
Root slipped a hand into her pocket, pulling out a small vial of clear liquid and fiddled with it idly in between her fingers. Jason's eyes landed on it and he stretched over, trying to snatch it from her. Root leant back casually in her chair, out of his reach, unconcerned and really starting to enjoy herself.
She thought, briefly, about just walking away and letting the poison do its work, imagined the police coming and declaring it a natural death. Then it would be over. Finally. After all this time… And maybe then she could go home. If she still had a home…
It was that thought, of home and what was waiting for her there, that had kept her going, had made her determined to find him and not give up. Not even what happened in Budapest had deterred her, despite the Machine's concerns. But Root had ignored them. It had got easier, the Machine so quiet, unwilling to help.
But finding Jason now had come with a price. Her long search was over but she couldn't end this the way that she wanted, with a bullet in between Jason's eyes.
The Machine whispered instructions in Root's ear and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't ignore Her. Not this time. Not about this.
"So, Jason," Root taunted. "What will it be? Death by poison… Or your help?"
"Help with what?" Jason asked. It came out more as a gasp as he struggled to get air into his lungs. The poison was constricting his trachea and Root knew he would asphyxiate soon.
"I'm not sure yet," Root admitted, trying not to show how uncomfortable she was about that. She tried not to let him see how much this bothered her, acquiring his help, keeping him alive without knowing why. It wasn't the first time the Machine had kept her in the dark about a mission. But it was the first time Root had ever felt like she didn't have faith in the outcome. That she didn't trust the Machine's motives.
She had no doubt that whatever influences Jason had inflicted on the Machine were long gone. But the Machine was free now, different. Not restricted by Harold's code and evolving every day. She had been quiet for so long, disproving of Root's choice to hunt Jason down that Root no longer knew what the Machine was capable of. But that didn't mean she wasn't still willing. She would still do anything for Her. And that included letting Jason Greenfield live.
Jason's gaze dropped to the vial again, his eyes dilated. He didn't have long and he was smart enough to work that out. The Machine chirped in her ear anyway, telling her move things along. They didn't have time. They needed him alive. But Root didn't give Jason the satisfaction. She waited him out, hoping he would choose death over helping her and the Machine.
Gritting his teeth, Jason finally looked her in the eye. "Fine," he grunted. "I'll help. Just give me the antidote."
Root smiled. "I knew you'd make the right decision, Jason," she said, even though all her instincts were screaming at her to let him die. But she forced herself to take an empty glass, half fill it with water from the jug on the table.
She hesitated before prising the lid off the vial. It was only the sensation of Jason's eyes boring into her that made her finally take the lid off and pour it into the glass of water. She swirled it around for a bit before handing it over to Jason. He clutched at it, his hands shaking so badly that some of it spilt over the edges before the glass reached his mouth. He gulped down all the water, placing the empty glass back down on the table. With his hands shaking so badly it got knocked over and rolled off the edge, hitting the ground with a smash. Root ignored it, knowing none of the wait staff would come over now. She had paid them enough not to.
The antidote would take some time to kick in fully, but Root could tell by the way Jason's eyes hardened, the way his hands clenched into fists, that it was already starting to have an effect.
Root stood up abruptly, her chair flying backwards with a clatter. "Don’t try anything," she warned, taking the gun out from where it was tucked into her jeans at her lower back.
Jason eyed it warily, licking his lips. "You won't shoot me."
He sounded convincing, but Root knew him. After spending so much time together, so many close calls and late nights, the four of them holed up in some musty van or cheap motel, she knew him too well. Root could see the fear still clouding his eyes, the unsurity. He wasn't convinced she wouldn't kill him. But, like her, he was good at putting on a show and pretending otherwise.
"Get up," Root ordered. Jason was slow about it, unsteady on his feet. Root kept her gun pointed at him and searched him for weapons. He was clean and that made her both suspicious and incredulous.
"Are you surprised?" Jason asked, noticing the look on her face.
"That you are so unprepared?" Root asked with a smirk.
Jason smirked right back. "I'm not unprepared. Just confident."
No, Root thought. Just arrogant.
"Really?" said Root. "Is that why someone managed to slip poison into your drink without you noticing?"
The smile slipped from his face and he ground down his teeth.
"Move," Root said, pressing the gun into his side and forcing him out the back of the restaurant. The way was clear, Root had made sure of that and she got him outside without any trouble.
Still weakened by the poison, Root found it easy to shove him up against the wall outside.
"If I had known we were going to get this close and personal," said Jason, "I would have let you catch me months ago."
"Shut up," Root hissed, digging the gun in a little deeper into the small of his back, hard enough to leave a bruise. Her finger on the trigger ached and she thought about how easy it would be to pull it, if she aimed it just right she could hit a few major arteries. Or miss those and watch him bleed out slowly, beg for his life and ignore any pleas his cowardly mouth let out. He'd never given Daizo the chance to beg for his life and Root didn't think Jason deserved the opportunity to plea for his own.
It would be so easy.
And she knew she could live with this one, even if all the others, all those people she had killed as an assassin for hire, still sat heavily in her heart. She hadn't cared at all about the lives she was ending back then. It was just another job. But now... the Machine had taught her how to care and she felt each of those murders like a stab to the chest. But killing Jason - Root didn't think she would feel anything doing that. Just regret that she hadn't done it sooner. That maybe if she had, it wouldn't have come to this. Trekking the globe, always several steps behind, alone without the Machine, her friends and team, and her – but no.
Thinking of maybes and what ifs didn't matter anymore. Daizo would still be dead and Root would probably still have screwed up one way or the other. People like her didn't get happy endings.
It was why the Machine had chosen her after all.
"Where are we going?" Root asked. Jason glanced at her curiously, but she ignored him. She wasn't talking to him anyway and she listened, waiting for the Machine to give her instructions.
Flight C172... Departing in one hour, the Machine informed her. That told Root nothing and she pulled a zip tie out of her pocket and told Jason to tie his wrists together at the front.
"And where are we going after that?" she mumbled, not liking how Jason could hear her side of the conversation, how he knew she had no idea what was going on, that she was just as much in the dark as he was.
New York, the Machine twittered in her ear and Root's heart skipped a beat.
Home, she thought. She hadn't been back there since she had left, almost a year ago now and the thought of all she had left behind there made her feel nauseous, an ache in her chest that never seemed to let up.
But Root tried not to think about that, because if she did, on those rare occasions where she indulged herself and allowed herself to remember, it hurt. And she didn't know if she could keep going. If she thought about it too much, she knew her resolve would cave and she would go back, empty handed and nothing to show for her solo quest for vengeance.
Now the Machine wasn't giving her a choice. She was going back to New York, going home, whether she liked it or not.
But at least she wasn't going back alone. She had Jason as her prisoner. And maybe that would make it seem worthwhile.
Root didn’t think so.
She didn't know what to think anymore. She wasn't even sure what she was doing. Following the Machine blindly had always felt like second nature to her, but now, with so long without the Machine for guidance, keeping Jason alive only left Root feeling apprehensive and wary of what She was doing. She knew there was some bigger purpose to all this. She just had no idea what it was.
With Jason's hands tightly secured, Root gestured for him to move ahead of her. He stumbled slightly and she wondered if it was just the after effects of the poison or if he was acting, playing it up and lulling her into a false sense of security. Waiting for his chance to strike and kill her before he made his escape. But Root wasn't about to let that happen. She had been searching for him for too long just to let him get away now.
"You try anything," Root warned, "and I'll kill you."
"Thought you needed my help," Jason said, seemingly unconcerned about the gun at his back with the safety off.
"The Machine needs your help, not me," Root clarified. "And I really won't be all that disappointed if I have to shoot you."
Jason must have heard the seriousness in her tone because he kept his mouth shut all the way to the airport. Root kept hers shut too unless it was to bark an order at him to move. She ignored the Machine in her ear, giving her instructions, reminding her that she couldn't kill Jason.
And all Root could think was, not yet.