02/27/2015 Updated Author's note: This story is seriously AU. Seriously. I started writing this fic back in August 2014 during the summer hiatus of POI, and it was the time when there was a lot of early buzz for Empire. POI was on hiatus and Empire hadn't aired yet. There was little information available other than a few articles and a few promos that were out at the time for either show.

Empire is well into it's first season now and POI is well into it's fourth season, so this isn't exactly going to fit the current narrative of either show, but I'm going to try to finish this story all the same. I've done a bit of tweaking here and there from my original first chapter, but this is mainly what I'm sticking with so that I can finish the story I had in mind.

So yeah, this story is AU (especially since I have the setting in Chicago where they film Empire although the setting of the show is supposed to be NYC), but hopefully it will still be a fun and enjoyable read for anyone who reads this story. Thanks.

Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest or Empire. This fic is for entertainment purposes only.

Metropolitan Correctional Center- Chicago, IL

"I told y'all not to bid a blind. But I guess desperate times call for stupid decisions," Cookie said with a grin, holding the winning card in her hand.

"Now why is that partna?" asked Tammy, her spades partner and the first, hell the only, friend she had in this awful place. Tammy couldn't hide the grin of her own. She knew they'd won this game because her partner was holding the big joker.

"'Cause these bitches just got set!" Cookie shouted as she slammed the card down on the table.

She and Tammy loudly celebrated their victory with obnoxious peals of laughter while the other two women rolled their eyes. After a bit more trash talking among group, a new game began.

"Cookie Lyon," one of the guards called out.

Cookie turned around, curious about why she was being called out. She hadn't caused any trouble or gotten into any altercations for a while. "What's up, Thomas?"

"The warden wants to see you," he replied in the same stern voice he always used. In all her seventeen years in this hellhole of a prison, she never saw him smile once. He wasn't an easy man to read, not like her estranged husband Lucious Lyon.

"What she want with me?" Cookie asked. She'd had her share of run-ins with the warden and knew the woman hated her.

"Cookie, just come on. I'm not trying to get into it with you today."

"Fine." She tossed the cards on the table and excused herself.

"Stay cool, Cookie. Watch your temper," Tammy advised.

"It's alright, Tam. I'm good."

Cookie followed Thomas to Warden Dean's office and took a seat in one of the chairs. She kept quiet as she sat and waited for the warden to start. Once Thomas left the office, quietly closing the door behind him, she spoke.

"I know you're wondering why you're here." She opened a folder, picked up a form, and handed it to Cookie. "You've been selected for early release."

"Early release? Why? I've served 17 of my 30 year sentence. Every time I've tried for parole, I've been denied. Why now?"

"The FBI needs you for their investigation into Empire Records," Dean started before she was promptly interrupted.

"Hell no! I'm snitching to the Feds," Cookie exclaimed.

Dean smiled as if she knew Cookie would initially refuse. "Then I guess you'll be stuck here for another thirteen years." She placed the paperwork back into the folder and closed it. "I know you want to see your family. Especially your baby boy. Hakeem is his name, if I recall correctly. He hasn't come to visit you once in all the years you've been here has he? Probably hasn't answered any of your letters..." Dean proded, pushing Cookie's buttons.

Cookie didn't reply, but Dean had definitely struck a nerve. She missed her boys like crazy, and she had already missed so many milestones of Andre, Jamal, and Hakeem's lives. Andre, her oldest, hadn't come to visit her in nearly twelve years, too ashamed of his mama. Jamal visited more often, but over the past year, his visits had become less frequent. Dean had been right about Hakeem. She hadn't seen him since he was a baby before she was sentenced after her trial. She knew it was because of Lucious.

Cookie breathed in and released a deep sigh. She was between a rock and a hard place. Stay in prison for another thirteen years wasting her life away to remain loyal to an unappreciative jackass of a husband who served her with divorce papers she refused to sign while she was locked away… or at least listen to Dean about this offer and possibly get out to see her family.

Family won out.

"What is this all about and why do they need me?"

Northwestern Memorial Hospital - Chicago, IL

Lucious Lyon sat in the doctor's office waiting for the test results. Blood work, urine tests, MRIs, EMG testing, x-rays, even a spinal tap. They'd done so many tests to find out what was wrong. He'd been experiencing weakness in his legs and in his hands. There were times where he couldn't speak clearly. His hands would twitch uncontrollably at times. He knew deep down something was wrong. The doctors he was paying all this money to, just needed to figure it out.

The door opened and the doctor walked in, her face grim. "Mr. Lyon, we've done a number of tests and we've discovered the cause of your symptoms."

"Okay, fine. Just write up the prescription of what I need and I'll see you for follow up in a few months," Lucious replied, more than ready to leave this place.

She shook her head. "No, sir. I don't think you understand. You've got ALS."

"No, I don't." He was still very much in denial about how serious this was. There was no way he could have Lou Gehrig's Disease.

"Mr. Lyon, I understand that this news may be too overwhelming to take right now, but you have to know your options," the doctor explained.

He held up a trembling hand to quiet her. This was a death sentence. He knew he didn't truly have options. "How long I got?"

"Three years. Most likely less."

He stood to leave.

"Mr. Lyon, wait. Your options. We have to talk about what you want to do."

Once he reached the door, he turned to the doctor. "What I want to do, is live a long healthy life. But you and I both know that's not an option. So what I need to do, is get my house in order." He turned and walked out the office.

Lincoln Park High School - Chicago, IL

John walked out of the school gym after the final basketball game of his first season of coaching. They'd won the game and senior night was a success. There was a definite improvement to their win-loss record under "Coach Warren", but they still hadn't won enough games to make the playoffs. He locked up the doors behind him and made his way to the car, fighting against the brisk Chicago winds.

He briefly remembered the biting cold of New York City, but this was something different altogether. The locals here called it "the hawk". He wasn't necessarily sure how that name originated, but he never seemed to figure out how to combat the cold that cut through every single layer of clothing to send a chill deep into his bones.

He'd been living in Chicago for nearly a year since now he had been given another new identity. Samaritan had staked its claim in New York City and living in plain sight worked temporarily for a few months until Samaritan figured out what they had done and began to repair itself, one server at a time. Two of the three computer hackers Root had saved had their new identities compromised. By the time the third person was captured and killed, she was able to place four new servers inside one of the many Decima warehouses across the country.

It was a close call, but Root had changed their identities once again and each of them were relocated to a different city. Shaw was in Los Angeles, Finch was now in Boston, and ironically, Root had gone back to Texas, living in Ft. Worth.

John wondered why he hadn't been offered to relocate somewhere warm, like Miami, but he never dwelled on it for too long. Chicago was another large city where he could blend in and be just another person on the street. He tried to live as normal a life as he could without going insane. He kept in touch with Shaw and Finch, contacting them sporadically on burner phones. He never spoke to Root, and he knew that she knew where to find him if she needed to anyway.

As soon as he opened the door to his car to climb in and head "home" to his small apartment, the pay phone a few feet away began to ring. He stood there for a moment as the phone continued to ring. Was this just a coincidence? Was it just a random person dialing the wrong number? Or was it the machine? He hadn't worked a number since he left New York.

He closed the door to the car and walked over to the ringing pay phone. His hand hovered over the phone in hesitation before he finally picked up without answering. There was silence on the other end for a few seconds before he heard the eerily familiar automated voice filter through the receiver. The voice relayed numbers, letters from the phonetic alphabet table, and author's names.

He hung up the phone and walked back inside the school heading straight for the library. Someone's number was up, and it looked like the machine wanted him to get back to work.