alyciaslexa replied to your post
“So like if Shaw ends up dying and so does Root do you think that maybe…”
slow down satan
“We need to move now, Root,” Shaw breathes heavily. “Now.”
Root feels Shaw pulling on her arm, trying to get her to stand up. She wants to tell Shaw to stop it—she feels nauseous and tired, from the amount of blood she’s lost, Root thinks. She looks up to find Shaw’s forehead covered in sweat, her tank top stained with dried blood. She’d made a tourniquet around her own arm when Root wasn’t paying attention—though it’s slowed the bleeding, she sees streaks of red spilling through it anyway.
“Now, Root,” Shaw says again, her voice low and haggard. Root looks down at herself to find that her own hands are soaked in red. She was putting pressure on the wound on her abdomen as Shaw tried to buy them time to escape from the Decima Agents. She’s lost two liters of blood. Blood all over her hands, all over her shirt, the floor—
Shaw tugs at her again, gives her a defiant look.
We will not die. Not here.
Root wants to laugh, because they both know how much blood she’s lost. They both know that if Root doesn’t get this wound patched in five minutes, she’ll start to lose consciousness, in seven, she’ll pass out—
in ten, she’ll die.
(It takes eleven minutes to exit the building, The Machine whispers in her ear, but Root doesn’t tell Shaw this.
Shaw doesn’t need to know.)
Instead, Root nods obediently and wraps an arm around Shaw’s neck. With some effort from both of them, Shaw’s able to pull her up with a pained grunt.
“This way,” Shaw breathes out more than says. Root leans heavily on Shaw as they make their way through the corridor.
“I hear them!” A man’s voice echoes from behind them.
“Shit,” Shaw mutters, tries to pull out her gun with her good arm. She’s finding it more difficult—much to her chagrin, Root’s body is blocking her holster.
“Root, you need to—“
Shaw gives her confused look. “What?”
“You can still get out,” Root breathes, removing her arm from around Shaw’s neck, but Shaw tugs it back, keeping it there.
“Go,” Root commands, tired.“The Machine told me that Finch and Reese are outside the building waiting.”
(The Machine didn’t. It was the only way Root could think of to get Shaw to leave.)
To her annoyance, Shaw doesn’t listen to her. Instead, Shaw scoffs at her and says, “If you think I’m just going to leave you—“
“If you don’t,” Root cuts her off. “We both die.”
Shaw looks at her in the eyes, her eyes daring Root to try and convince her otherwise. “I’m not leaving you,” Shaw says, just as she pushes Root far enough away to grab a hold of her gun.
“Over here!” A man yells just as he comes into view. Shaw shoots center mass, and he goes down in a thud.
“We need backup!” Another voice says. They hear footsteps approaching them, closer and closer. The nearest elevator is thirty seconds from here. The Decima Agents are coming in five.
They won’t make it in time, Root thinks.
She looks up at Shaw.
From the smug look on her face, Shaw must know it too.
“Must be the end of the world,” Root remarks, tries to muster up a smile.
Shaw lets out a small chuckle.
“Root,” Shaw says in a soft tone, reloading her gun. “It’s someday.” Shaw looks up at her. “This still good enough for you?”
At that, a genuine smile blooms on Root’s face. “Yeah, Sameen.” Root breathes in, and closes her eyes. “This is good enough for me.”
If this is how her story ends, if this is how she dies, it’s better than anything Root could’ve hoped for.