"They're not our kind of oddballs," Shaw says wryly - or more accurately, they're not either of their kind of oddball, because as far as she's concerned, she and Root are two distinct oddball types that just happened to end up jiving well together. "Don't count on finding too many kindred spirits. Some of them are okay, though. I've been here for, uh..."
She has to pause to think; calendars aren't so much a thing, and she hasn't bothered keeping track manually. The length of the days is really the best time indicator, so--
Root would agree; they're complementary but opposing, like two electrons orbiting the same proton but never making direct contact with one another. They're always facing the same direction but going a different way.
What Shaw says about the others makes her think that she's been fairly solitary. Root is prone to loneliness herself and she doesn't assume Shaw would be suffering from the same, but she notes it as something to consider. Especially with what else she says.
"You made it through winter here?" she asks, trudging through snow. "That must have been tough if this counts as spring."
"You ever see that thriller movie where a flash freeze spreads across the east coast, turning everyone and everything in its path to ice? That happened here a couple months ago. Then the storm passed."
Which is to say that yes, it had been no mean feat, and the mundanity of wilderness survival has been the least of it.
"There's a bear that was an intangible ghost until it suddenly wasn't. I'll show you my scars sometime. Things that happen here don't make sense. I don't know how to prepare you for it. You just have to go along for the ride and see where it takes you."
There's an edge of frustration to her voice, though it's not directed at Root, or even at her own inadequacies at explaining the mind-bending situation. It's just that regardless of whether or not she believes that it's real, life here reminds her too much of being in Decima's hands: where opportunities to take control of her own life hadn't been entirely nonexistent, but had still been few and far between.
"I think you're going to have a harder time with that one than me, honey," Root says wryly.
She'd like answers, of course, but it isn't going to break her fundamental conception of reality to have things be kooky. She won't just passively accept whatever's going on -- she'll try to reach an explanation, try to understand -- but it won't slow her down any in the meantime.
"As long as you're here, I know where I'm going and what I'm doing."
"We should try to stick together. Come up with prearranged meeting places if we separate."
It's not their usual MO, but considering the circumstances - the extreme environment, the practical dangers of solo wilderness travel, the lack of communication options - it seems like the best choice available to them.
"I've got some friends in Lakeside - that's through the mines. You should meet them."
Maybe it wasn't their usual MO, but it is what Root greatly prefers after spending nearly a year desperately trying to find Shaw. There's no Machine here (pity) which means she can't just ask for Shaw's location at any given time. That means...
"Until and unless I can put a tracker on you, I'm not going anywhere without you," Root declares. She hesitates and then begrudgingly adds, "Unless we have to."
She's willing to be practical if she has to be, but she's not going to like it. Forcible separation is definitely possible, though, so coming up with prearranged meeting places seems wise. But they can sort all that out later -- there's something far more interesting for her to catch up on as they travel.
"You made friends?" she asks with muted delight. "Tell me about them."
Calling someone eccentric the way she is implies a whole lot despite Shaw's brief description, and she's used to reading between the lines when it comes to Shaw. Respect Michonne, see how far she can get teasing the Doctor.
"Can't wait to meet him." She's genuinely excited with a description like that. "We almost there? I think I'll need some help warming up."
Root can't resist the obvious invitation, though she isn't expecting anything to come of it necessarily. She's just never going to stop trying when Shaw keeps signaling she's receptive to it. And if they're going to have a second chance like this, she'd be a fool not to take advantage of it to the maximum extent possible.
"It takes all day to walk there; we'll go tomorrow. How do you feel about spending the night in the mines? They're on the way; you go through them to get to Lakeside."
Technically there's nothing stopping them from taking their planned rest in the mines, hiking back to Milton for the night, and then heading back out to the mines the next morning; it's completely doable physically. But energy and resource conservation are constantly on Shaw's mind here - and generally, if she can consolidate travel time, she will.
"That's what I assumed we were doing, silly. You think I'm waiting a whole day to cuddle up to you after my tragic untimely demise?"
It's hard to sound flirty while she's exhausted, freezing, and lost, and she can't exactly flutter her eyelashes at Shaw right now, but Root isn't about to stop flirting at the most awkward times now. And that includes making fun of her own death. Black humor is a coping mechanism she's leaned on her whole life, and she can tell she's going to need to do some serious coping around here. Better get started.
Silly, ill-timed flirting or no, Shaw can't deny the appeal of the idea; she kind of does want to flop down somewhere away from the wind and rest her head on Root's shoulder.
"You see it up there?" she asks, and sure enough, they're zeroing in on what looks to be a stereotypical early 20th century mine shaft opening: a hole carved into the mountain, framed by sturdy wooden planks. "I'll race you."
She will absolutely not be doing that, and neither should Root.
The absurd proposal gets a surprised laugh out of Root, and though she doesn't try to take her up on the race, she does lurch close enough to Shaw to give her a playful shove.
"You wish. I bet nobody here gets your sense of humor, do they?"
Maybe she's flattering herself with that comment, but Root likes to think she has a leg up on everyone else in terms of appreciating how special Shaw is.
She sidesteps and digs her shoulder against Root's in a lazy half-shove, but it's a sluggish, tired move. Now that they're nearing the mine entrance, she looks around to make sure that Bear is nearby, calling him to heel with a "Bear, volg."
God, it feels so natural. Falling back into old patterns is the easiest thing in the world.
Root notices the delay, the way her steps are slower and heavier than her normal blind bulldozer pace. She'd been distracted with her own exhaustion and hunger and just so relieved to see Shaw, she hadn't quite noticed and processed before.
She lets the previous thread of conversation drop, lets the silence rest for a few moments as the snow swirls around them, before she speaks again.
She doesn't expect Root to buy it. In fact, she expects her not to: Root will see past the surface-level answer and get to the I'm alive and I'm functional, but I don't know how to put what's wrong with me into words underneath. As they enter the mouth of the mine, she clears her throat, adding, "I'm not sleeping too good."
Root doesn't buy it, and she's relieved Shaw follows up with a real admission. She can't help until she knows what the issue is, but she's sensitive to the fact that Shaw probably doesn't want any sympathy.
Stumbling into the darkened overhang, Root gratefully sheds the pack she'd been carrying and lets it slump to the ground.
"Not sleeping good like you need someone to keep watch, or you need someone to hold you?"
This isn't flirtatious -- it's a matter-of-fact question she asks while crouching down to unload a tin bowl and some salvaged water she offers out for Bear.
That, at least, is an easy answer; Shaw can't really wrap her head around the idea of loneliness keeping her awake. That's not at all the same as not wanting Root to hold her, though, so she sticks close, and when Root is done with Bear's routine, she motions her over to the area along the rocky wall where she's moved both their bags.
"C'mere."
She doesn't have much in the way of bedding in her pack, but she keeps an emergency blanket on hand, and it can cover two.
Was that her unintentionally revealing how much loneliness can plague her? Oh well.
"I can stay up for a while," Root offers immediately. It's been a rough few days, but she's nowhere close to the end of her rope. She's used to gauging her relative level of tiredness vs. functioning and she's confident she can stay awake and keep watch for a bit, give both Shaw and Bear a break.
"Let's build a fire first, or we're both going to regret it in a few hours."
Once she sits down and has her arms around Shaw, she's not going to want to get up again, and she knows it.
Shaw gives her a quick nod, moving towards the mouth of the mine entrance; she'll gather brush from there, as well as scope out a good spot to place the fire that'll be sheltered but will still allow for good air flow. Bear follows, flanking her left, and she rests a fond hand on his back for a moment.
"You don't have to stay awake," Shaw says over her shoulder. "Honestly, I don't even know how much it'll help. But, uh-- we had an issue not too long ago with people who were alone being picked off in the night. It was some supernatural thing."
She says this last part grudgingly - as far as she's concerned, supernatural is a lazy explanation on its own - but how else to explain it?
Root isn't nearly as practiced as Shaw at starting fires, but she's figured out some basics over the last few days and she drops seamlessly into assisting as they set up a warm, defensible camp. She read through the disgruntled tone and empathizes with the imprecision of the word supernatural as an explanation. It's not like she has any better ideas.
"You think I could bear to close my eyes once I finally have my arms around you?" she asks playfully. Back to being flirty. She assumes it goes unsaid that anything trying to threaten them would be met with her shotgun; Root is more than willing to shoot first, ask questions later, especially without the Machine around to guilt trip her. Moreover, Shaw only has to say something once and Root is ready to tackle the problem as best she can.
"And we've got the world's best guard dog on hand. We'll be fine."
The tinder catches, and Shaw scoots back from it, feeling out a good distance for them to settle. Not so close that they'll sweat or be in danger of catching sparks, but not so far that the fire won't be felt at all...
She makes another grab for Root, trying again to reel her in.
This time she accedes, curling in on her readily. She laughs a little as she settles on the cold ground and tries to find a comfortable position with Shaw.
"Needy, aren't you?" Root teases. "We can try it with Bear, but wake me up if you need to."
One of the things she really loves about Shaw is how straightforward and simple an exchange like this can be. Root wants to make sure she's able to get some sleep, and she can expect her to take her offer seriously.
Despite her grabby-hands, Shaw settles with her back to Root, facing the fire - though she still scootches backwards until she's pressed against her, reaching out to rest her fingertips on Root's arm.
She contemplates turning around and kissing her. She doesn't yet, but it's on her mind; now that there's no snow or walk or fire to distract her, how could it not be?
"I wondered sometimes if someone from home would show up," she says, quietly. "But I didn't think it would actually happen. I didn't think it would be you."
"Because I should be dead?" she asks frankly, not having missed that little detail.
Root has no such compunctions about holding back; no snow or walk or fire, Shaw settled back against her facing the fire and holding her arm, she nestles in and presses a chaste kiss to whatever skin she can find exposed on her neck.
She whispers, "You can't get rid of me that easily."
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She has to pause to think; calendars aren't so much a thing, and she hasn't bothered keeping track manually. The length of the days is really the best time indicator, so--
"I got here in the fall. It's spring now."
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What Shaw says about the others makes her think that she's been fairly solitary. Root is prone to loneliness herself and she doesn't assume Shaw would be suffering from the same, but she notes it as something to consider. Especially with what else she says.
"You made it through winter here?" she asks, trudging through snow. "That must have been tough if this counts as spring."
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Which is to say that yes, it had been no mean feat, and the mundanity of wilderness survival has been the least of it.
"There's a bear that was an intangible ghost until it suddenly wasn't. I'll show you my scars sometime. Things that happen here don't make sense. I don't know how to prepare you for it. You just have to go along for the ride and see where it takes you."
There's an edge of frustration to her voice, though it's not directed at Root, or even at her own inadequacies at explaining the mind-bending situation. It's just that regardless of whether or not she believes that it's real, life here reminds her too much of being in Decima's hands: where opportunities to take control of her own life hadn't been entirely nonexistent, but had still been few and far between.
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She'd like answers, of course, but it isn't going to break her fundamental conception of reality to have things be kooky. She won't just passively accept whatever's going on -- she'll try to reach an explanation, try to understand -- but it won't slow her down any in the meantime.
"As long as you're here, I know where I'm going and what I'm doing."
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It's not their usual MO, but considering the circumstances - the extreme environment, the practical dangers of solo wilderness travel, the lack of communication options - it seems like the best choice available to them.
"I've got some friends in Lakeside - that's through the mines. You should meet them."
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"Until and unless I can put a tracker on you, I'm not going anywhere without you," Root declares. She hesitates and then begrudgingly adds, "Unless we have to."
She's willing to be practical if she has to be, but she's not going to like it. Forcible separation is definitely possible, though, so coming up with prearranged meeting places seems wise. But they can sort all that out later -- there's something far more interesting for her to catch up on as they travel.
"You made friends?" she asks with muted delight. "Tell me about them."
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Shaw, as ever, remains unsentimental. Root will be lucky if she gets more than brief descriptions and lists of applicable skills out of her, honestly.
Michonne's a badass who's good with weaponry, and the Doctor is eccentric in the way you are. 'The Doctor' is the only thing he lets people call him."
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"Can't wait to meet him." She's genuinely excited with a description like that. "We almost there? I think I'll need some help warming up."
Root can't resist the obvious invitation, though she isn't expecting anything to come of it necessarily. She's just never going to stop trying when Shaw keeps signaling she's receptive to it. And if they're going to have a second chance like this, she'd be a fool not to take advantage of it to the maximum extent possible.
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"It takes all day to walk there; we'll go tomorrow. How do you feel about spending the night in the mines? They're on the way; you go through them to get to Lakeside."
Technically there's nothing stopping them from taking their planned rest in the mines, hiking back to Milton for the night, and then heading back out to the mines the next morning; it's completely doable physically. But energy and resource conservation are constantly on Shaw's mind here - and generally, if she can consolidate travel time, she will.
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It's hard to sound flirty while she's exhausted, freezing, and lost, and she can't exactly flutter her eyelashes at Shaw right now, but Root isn't about to stop flirting at the most awkward times now. And that includes making fun of her own death. Black humor is a coping mechanism she's leaned on her whole life, and she can tell she's going to need to do some serious coping around here. Better get started.
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"You see it up there?" she asks, and sure enough, they're zeroing in on what looks to be a stereotypical early 20th century mine shaft opening: a hole carved into the mountain, framed by sturdy wooden planks. "I'll race you."
She will absolutely not be doing that, and neither should Root.
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"You wish. I bet nobody here gets your sense of humor, do they?"
Maybe she's flattering herself with that comment, but Root likes to think she has a leg up on everyone else in terms of appreciating how special Shaw is.
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She sidesteps and digs her shoulder against Root's in a lazy half-shove, but it's a sluggish, tired move. Now that they're nearing the mine entrance, she looks around to make sure that Bear is nearby, calling him to heel with a "Bear, volg."
God, it feels so natural. Falling back into old patterns is the easiest thing in the world.
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She lets the previous thread of conversation drop, lets the silence rest for a few moments as the snow swirls around them, before she speaks again.
"You doing okay?"
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She doesn't expect Root to buy it. In fact, she expects her not to: Root will see past the surface-level answer and get to the I'm alive and I'm functional, but I don't know how to put what's wrong with me into words underneath. As they enter the mouth of the mine, she clears her throat, adding, "I'm not sleeping too good."
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Stumbling into the darkened overhang, Root gratefully sheds the pack she'd been carrying and lets it slump to the ground.
"Not sleeping good like you need someone to keep watch, or you need someone to hold you?"
This isn't flirtatious -- it's a matter-of-fact question she asks while crouching down to unload a tin bowl and some salvaged water she offers out for Bear.
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That, at least, is an easy answer; Shaw can't really wrap her head around the idea of loneliness keeping her awake. That's not at all the same as not wanting Root to hold her, though, so she sticks close, and when Root is done with Bear's routine, she motions her over to the area along the rocky wall where she's moved both their bags.
"C'mere."
She doesn't have much in the way of bedding in her pack, but she keeps an emergency blanket on hand, and it can cover two.
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"I can stay up for a while," Root offers immediately. It's been a rough few days, but she's nowhere close to the end of her rope. She's used to gauging her relative level of tiredness vs. functioning and she's confident she can stay awake and keep watch for a bit, give both Shaw and Bear a break.
"Let's build a fire first, or we're both going to regret it in a few hours."
Once she sits down and has her arms around Shaw, she's not going to want to get up again, and she knows it.
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"You don't have to stay awake," Shaw says over her shoulder. "Honestly, I don't even know how much it'll help. But, uh-- we had an issue not too long ago with people who were alone being picked off in the night. It was some supernatural thing."
She says this last part grudgingly - as far as she's concerned, supernatural is a lazy explanation on its own - but how else to explain it?
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"You think I could bear to close my eyes once I finally have my arms around you?" she asks playfully. Back to being flirty. She assumes it goes unsaid that anything trying to threaten them would be met with her shotgun; Root is more than willing to shoot first, ask questions later, especially without the Machine around to guilt trip her. Moreover, Shaw only has to say something once and Root is ready to tackle the problem as best she can.
"We can give it a try."
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The tinder catches, and Shaw scoots back from it, feeling out a good distance for them to settle. Not so close that they'll sweat or be in danger of catching sparks, but not so far that the fire won't be felt at all...
She makes another grab for Root, trying again to reel her in.
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"Needy, aren't you?" Root teases. "We can try it with Bear, but wake me up if you need to."
One of the things she really loves about Shaw is how straightforward and simple an exchange like this can be. Root wants to make sure she's able to get some sleep, and she can expect her to take her offer seriously.
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She contemplates turning around and kissing her. She doesn't yet, but it's on her mind; now that there's no snow or walk or fire to distract her, how could it not be?
"I wondered sometimes if someone from home would show up," she says, quietly. "But I didn't think it would actually happen. I didn't think it would be you."
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Root has no such compunctions about holding back; no snow or walk or fire, Shaw settled back against her facing the fire and holding her arm, she nestles in and presses a chaste kiss to whatever skin she can find exposed on her neck.
She whispers, "You can't get rid of me that easily."
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A pleasant little shiver runs through her - it's subtle, but Root is close enough that she'll probably feel it. Her fingers press into Root's skin.
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