1. This kind of thing

Nothing made Shaw feel alive like a taser shot, especially with a fresh bullet wound in her torso. It made the green flecks in her adversary's eyes stand out, it made her notice how warm the body draped between her knees was. The confidence of the hands unzipping her hoodie, the audacity of her planting herself all over Shaw, elbows on Shaw's thighs like she owned them. Shaw knew she should be thinking of ways to escape, should be focusing on what the woman wanted, or what information Shaw could give away to her, or at the very least trying to figure out who this woman could possibly be.

Who could kidnap a federal agent - given, they were incredibly stupid - and masquerade as one so effectively that Shaw hadn't noticed anything amiss until the tapping?

Who could taze a former marine, manhandle and restrain her?

Which bought Shaw back to the present. The woman in front of her, with the very hot iron. The very attractive woman in front of her, threatening to torture her.

"Something they left out of my file - I kind of enjoy this sort of thing" Shaw finally managed to struggle out with some bravado, and the other woman smiled.

"I'm so glad you said that. So do I." And Shaw focused on the dimple that came with the smile, letting her eyes lock out, waiting for the burn.

Shaw had been bluffing - while she didn't mind a bit of pain, could shut down and not give away information, the iron was going to leave a visible mark on her otherwise unblemished breast.

And dammit, Shaw liked these breasts. And the pair she could feel against her lucky, lucky shins. She would probably like those too, if she had a chance to get to know them, at least.

Then there was a noise outside and suddenly the woman looked away. It had been a hell of a day already, it must have been, because for a moment Shaw was disappointed.

As the woman put the iron down she looked over at Shaw and pouted.

"I really hate to leave you like this, trussed up with all the trimmings. Perhaps we'll finish this later."

With that she leaned in and pressed her lips against Shaw's immobile mouth, and slipped away.

The door opened, and Shaw braced herself for a headshot that never came, an injection that was never injected, and an adversary that became a friend. It wasn't until she was wiping her face clean of dog slobber in the back of an ambulance in a goddamn bodybag that she even remembered the feel of Root's lips on hers. She rose from the dead spitting fire, and had her retribution. But Shaw wasn't an idiot. These guys had something to do with Northern Lights, and they'd kept her alive for a reason. She might be useful to them later, or they might be useful to her. Either way, it wasn't every day she had her life saved and a second chance.

"My ass, we'll finish this later," Shaw grunted to herself as she gunned the ambulance out of the cemetery.

Author's note: I've planned most of this one out and should be able to complete it while I work on the other 2 I've left hanging.