Chapter Text
Sameen Shaw sat in one of the waiting chairs outside of Harold Finch's office. She let out an impatient growl as she glared at the office door, willing with her mind for it to open. She just wanted to get this over with as quickly and painlessly as possible.
"Damn you, Cole," she muttered under her breath. It was all his fault that she was even here. If he had only kept his stupid man feelings to himself, she wouldn't have had to find herself a new partner. Finding a new partner, it turned out, was not as easy as it sounded. Sameen had high standards when considering a partner - and why the hell not? This was someone that she would have to spend the majority of her days with; someone she had to trust will have her back on a mission. It could very well be the difference between life and death. She wasn't going to just put her life in the incapable hands of some randomly assigned helper monkey.
Michael Cole was a good partner. They had been partners for a number of years, and there was always an effortlessness and ease in the way that they worked together. They understood each other. Or at least she thought they did. Everything changed when Cole got caught with a bullet when one of their missions went pear-shaped. Yeah, maybe Shaw was a little impressed that he had jumped in front of the bullet for her, but then he had to open his big trap and confess his love for her as if he were on his death bed, ready to depart to the afterlife.
"Always trying to be the hero, huh?" Shaw joked, kneeling down to check where the bullet had hit.
"Just yours," he replied sheepishly. He reached for her hand and started to stroke the back of it with his thumb. Shaw's eyes widened in realisation as she yanked her hand back, leaving Cole's hand to land on the ground with a thud.
"Oh, HELL no!" she protested, backing away from Cole and wiping the back of her hand on her black pants. "You are NOT about to say what I think you're about to say."
"Come on, Shaw. Give us a chance. We work well together. We get each other."
"Nuh uh, Cole. You of all people should know that I don't do relationships. I don't fuck where I eat or eat where I fuck or whatever that saying is. I just eat. And I just fuck. Two separate occasions, not at all related to each other. In any way."
"Uhh, I don't think that's how the saying goes, Shaw."
"Fuck the saying! I thought you understood, Cole. How many times have you heard me say it?"
Cole's face fell. He pushed himself up off the ground to sit against the wall. "I just thought that we - you and I - would be different. When that bullet hit me, I thought I was going to die and that this would be my chance to let you know how I really feel. I was hoping that you would feel it too." He stared at the floor and wrung his hands nervously.
Shaw rolled her eyes. He got shot in the goddamn shoulder - AND he was wearing a goddamn vest. This was not a life or death situation, and even if it was she would rather have died catching a bullet then having to listen to a - ugh - love confession.
"Come on," she reached down and hoisted Cole up by his good arm. "Let's get you back to base." She let out an exasperated sigh. This was going to change things. Goddammit, Cole.
....
Things had been awkward - very awkward - once Shaw and Cole were back in the field again. After being effectively friendzoned, Cole had taken to stealing glances at Shaw on their missions, looking like a kicked puppy. Shaw, in turn, became increasingly grumpier during their missions. Oh, she’d noticed the sad puppy dog eyes that Cole shot her way when he thought she wasn't looking. But she was Sameen Shaw, and Sameen Shaw saw everything. At this point she'd rather take an actual puppy on a mission with her than this sad clump of man that Cole had turned into. After nearly losing a number on their latest mission because Cole had forgotten to set the cameras up properly in his love sickened state, Shaw decided that she had to leave the Relevant branch of Team Machine. She put in a transfer request with Control later that same day.
"Are you sure you want to transfer, Agent Shaw? It will be difficult for us to find someone to replace an agent of your calibre."
"I don't think I have any other choice, Ma'am," Shaw answered solemnly.
"Very well, then. I spoke to Harold Finch; he has an opening for you on the Irrelevant side. He's seen your files and asked that I give you his contact information." Control handed Shaw a card with Harold's information.
"Thank you, Ma'am," Shaw took the proffered card and turned to leave.
"Agent Shaw."
Shaw looked back as she heard her name called.
"It has been a thrill watching you work."
Shaw nodded her thanks as she turned and walked out the door.
....
The door to Harold's office opened. "Finally!" Shaw muttered under her breath as she stood up from the waiting chair.
"Ms. Shaw, I presume? Please come on in." Harold stepped to the side to let her in. His office was quite different from Control's office. Control's office had windows that let in natural light and all of her furnishings were minimalist and modern. Harold's office felt more like a cave; there was no natural light - being that his office was tucked away in the basement - and the shelves of books lining the walls of his office gave the room a library feel. Shaw decided she preferred the cavey aspect of Harold's office. No windows equals no chance of being sniped during briefings.
"Please have a seat, Ms. Shaw," Harold gestured towards the chair across from his desk. Shaw nodded at the chair, but remained standing. She looked around the office and took in the shelves of books and monitors lined up on Harold's desk. She also noticed out of the corner of her eye that there was a board with photos of various individuals tacked onto it.
"What brings you here, Ms. Shaw?" Harold's voice brought her attention back to him.
"I assumed you wanted me to find you. Why else would you have given me your number?"
Harold nodded. "I have seen your files, Ms. Shaw, and I must say that I am thoroughly impressed. Your medical experience coupled with your time in the military and most recently your experience working for our Relevant branch has made you a very valuable asset indeed." He paused and shuffled some papers on his desk before continuing. "I have an opening on the Irrelevant side that I would very much like for you to consider. I believe that you would be a very fitting addition to our team should you accept."
"I'm in," Shaw answered confidently with a tap of her palm on Harold's desk. "It's not like I have anywhere else to go."
Harold pressed his lips into a thin line. "You will, of course, need to find a partner," he started. "We don't run solo missions here on the Irrelevant side."
"Pity," Shaw said sarcastically, "just when I thought things were starting to look up."
When Harold showed no reaction to her comment, Shaw rolled her eyes and continued. "Look, Finch-" Harold's eyebrows raised microscopically at the casual use of his last name- "I've been trying to look for a good partner to replace the one I had. No one's been up to my standards so far. They've all been incompetent. I've even heard that there are some candidates who don't want to work with me." She let out a sigh. "Something about being grumpy and likely to shoot first and ask questions later," she mumbled.
Harold nodded. "Yes, I've been told that you have a tendency to be...over eager with a trigger. Perhaps it would do you some good to find a hobby. It's been proven that hobbies can help with aggression issues."
Shaw shot him a deadly glare.
"Of course, I'm not saying that you have aggression...issues," he quickly added.
"You think I need a hobby, Harold? I just need a competent partner. Simple as that."
Harold got up from behind his desk and walked over to the board that Shaw had noticed earlier. "Please follow me, Ms. Shaw. I have something to show you."
Shaw followed Finch to the board noticing for the first time that the man walked with a limp. She decided not to ask him about it for now.
"This," Harold gestured to the board, "is a compilation of the candidates who I think may be a suitable new partner for you. They have all been chosen by an algorithm based on their compatibility with you."
"So you let a computer pick my next partner?" Shaw asked incredulously.
"No, Ms. Shaw - you will ultimately be picking you own partner. The algorithm simply narrowed down the choices based on your known preferences."
Shaw shook her head disbelievingly. "I don't even wanna know how you know what my preferences are."
"You'd be surprised what kind of information The Machine can gain access to," Harold answered. "All of this information is being used in a responsible manner, of course."
"Of course," Shaw muttered sarcastically. She looked at the five candidates on the board and read the brief profile of each candidate below their pictures. One picture caught her eye immediately.
"Tell me about her," she gestured with her chin to the picture of an attractive brunette.
"Samantha Groves, alias Root. Skilled hacker and former mercenary."
Shaw's ears perked up at the word.
"What's your interest?" Harold asked, noticing Shaw's sudden curiosity.
Shaw reach out to the board and pulled off Root's profile summary from under its pin. Her eyes skimmed the paper as words like 'Torture,' 'Violence,' and 'Psychopathy' jumped out at her. "I think I found my other half," she smirked at Harold.
Finch's eyes widened as he considered the dynamics of this potential pairing. "Well, I can't say that I'm surprised with your choice, Ms. Shaw. Are you sure you won't take anyone else into consideration as well?"
Shaw briefly glimpsed at the remaining four candidates. Sure, they all sounded impressive on paper - a former doctor, a reformed jewel thief, a former UN investigator - but they were all missing that certain edge that she was looking for. That edge that was staring right back at her from Root's photo.
"I'm positive," she answered determinedly.
"Very well, Ms. Shaw."
Harold reached into his pocket and produced a slip of paper. He handed the slip to Shaw and she read the address back to herself:
"Manhattan. The Suffolk Hotel. Room 1458 at 5pm tomorrow."