This plunnie is rabid and absolutely refuses to stop gnawing at my brain cells. Plus, my sister is also rabid, so I wrote this to ease her POI withdrawals. (/O_o)/

I'll probably butcher the characters... Meh. I doubt many people from the DP fandom are familiar with Person of Interest (and vice-versa). But just in case any of you are familiar with both shows and I am, in fact, butchering the characters then please TELL ME! D:

That is all.

Disclaimer: Me no own Jack-squat.

Run. Keep running.

Danny's heart hammered in his chest and his breath came out in harsh, ragged pants. His body ached for rest, even as he pushed his legs to move faster.

Don't stop. Don't look back.

He was injured and exhausted, but he couldn't stop. He wouldn't. He'd made it this far, and he wasn't about to go down without a fight.

His feet slammed against the concrete, and Danny focused on the rhythm.

The lights were bright and disorienting and, even at this hour, the streets were noisy and crowded. Danny was nearly run over by a taxi cab as he rounded a corner.

He dodged traffic and skirted through crowds and around passersby. Save for the occasional glance, people went about their business, paying no mind to the dark-haired teenager that seemed to have fallen from out of the sky.

Hoping to lose the GiW agents in the chaos, he headed for a quieter part of the city, and ducked into a nearby alleyway.

Danny staggered into the dimly lit alley, his breathing harsh and labored. His knees gave out, and he slid down against the wall he'd been leaning on for support. He lay sprawled out on the ground, one arm wrapped protectively around his stomach. Letting his head fall back against the wall he closed his eyes, and focused on breathing.

In, out. In, out. In, out. In, out. In-...

His breath caught in his throat as he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Thinking quickly, Danny shuffled backwards and hid behind a dumpster. He drew his knees in towards his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible.

This was it, he realized. He couldn't run anymore, and there was nowhere left for him to hide.

Danny clenched his eyes shut, desperately hoping and praying that the GiW's ghost scanners wouldn't pick up on his ecto-signature. Summoning up the last bit of his energy, he turned invisible.

Not even a moment later, one of the GiW agents he'd been running from was in the alleyway with him. Danny flinched as he heard the agent cock his ecto-pistol. He listened closely, hearing the sound of each footstep as the agent moved further and further into the alley. He heard the steady beeping of the ghost scanner, and even the sound of the agent's breath as the agent literally stepped right in front of him.

Danny froze; he didn't dare breathe.

For several agonizingly long moments, the air was tense and thick and so terrifyingly still.

And then:

"Agent O to Agent K, we've lost him..."

Danny sagged in relief, listening closely as the footsteps retreated.

They were gone. The Guys in White were gone.

Danny opened his eyes, scarcely believing what had just happened. He let out a hoarse laugh. He was happy right now. Giddy, even.

And then the adrenaline began to wear off, and everything he'd been ignoring before seemed to hit him all at once. His body shook, and he gasped involuntarily as a sharp, burning pain flared up in his abdomen. He took a few deep breaths, but much to his dismay the feeling only intensified. Danny frowned, and then remembered a very important piece of information:

He was bleeding.

Suddenly, he felt so very, very tired.

Danny listed weakly and fell to the side, vaguely registering another set of footsteps before he succumbed to the darkness.

John Reese had gone out for a walk. After he had finished with the machine's last number, he'd decided he needed to get some fresh air.

Not that he expected there to be much fresh air in the middle of New York City... but it was the concept that mattered, right?

Fresh air or not, it was a pleasant night to be out, and the ex-CIA agent found himself enjoying his walk. As he rounded the corner, Reese spotted a tall, muscular man who appeared to be engaged in a heated discussion with his earpiece.

Reese gave him a curious glance, taking note of the man's very obvious badge (government, maybe...?) and the white suit that just screamed 'subtle'. Undetected, Reese moved closer to the white-suited man until he was within hearing distance. As the man walked by, Reese caught bits of the conversation, such as: "... target ran into the alleyway. I was unable to locate him." And, "... no, no, no, NO! Report back to headquarters immediately!"

Ah, so he was with the government. So this is what they hired, nowadays...

Reese was amused.

And also maybe a little bit interested.

Sparing a covert look around (and seeing that the strange "agent" was nowhere to be seen), Reese walked into the alley. He moved through slowly, almost carefully; his steps echoing in the empty alleyway. He scanned the area, and suddenly, something caught his eye.

Peering out from behind a dumpster was a single red sneaker.

The thing was old and worn, and looked very much like something that you'd find next to a dumpster. There wasn't anything remarkable or unusual about it, really...

Except for the fact that this particular sneaker was still attached to its owner.

And that its owner was a child.

And that this child wasn't moving.

Reese knelt down next to the kid, and at the same time, his phone vibrated. Frowning, he brought the phone to his ear.

"Mr. Reese," came his boss's voice, "we've got another number."

Reese gazed solemnly at the boy's still form.

"It's a little late, Harold..."

Like it? Hate it? Should I write more? Let me know, please! :3