AN: My first Person of Interest fic so please review. I just got into the series and finished the first season the same day I wrote this, now I'm at the middle of season 2. disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest

Summary: A fight goes wrong and John needs help getting patched up. Afterwards he goes to goes back to warn the potential gangsters to watch who they shoot. AKA John doesn't like getting shot.

John Reese races up a metal stairway to catch Jamie Kenway. Jamie is the new number Finch informed John about that morning. The young man has a small rap sheet, mostly petty crimes, but it was clear to John that Jamie was going to be perpetrator. John smugly proved it to Finch about a half hour ago when Jamie sent a text to a friend asking about a mysterious package.

The package turned out to be a gun, a terribly old .45 caliber hang gun, Jamie was trying to by from a group of delinquents who fancied themselves gangsters. Getting the weapon from the gang is step one of Jamie's initiation into the group followed by actually shooting someone.

Breaking up the little party is laughably easy, it's only Jamie and his contact. The deal goes down in an alleyway between an abandoned building and a comer store. Unfortunately, Jamie ditches the gang member, and the gun, and runs as soon as he sees John approaching. The young man ducks into the abandoned building, hence the race to the top of the stairs.

Jamie makes it to the third floor landing and is about to turn to run up another flight of stairs. Fortunately, John's hand reaches out and grabs the younger man's ratty hoodie just as Finch calls.

"Mr. Reese?"

"Kind of busy Finch."

All Finch can hear is grunts as John fights with Jamie. Jamie is lightweight and fairly quick on his feet, but no match for someone who's spent over a decade fighting. With a some well aimed punches, John manages to knock the younger man out though Jamie did get a few well placed hits in as well. He dabs his, hopefully not split, lip and is interrupted by the clanging of footsteps running up the metal staircase. A sharp pain to his back just above his hip and a bang stop the exCIA agent from turning around fully.

"John?!" Finch sounds particularly urgent now.

John falters a bit, nearly falling over from the shock of the wound, but the adrenaline is still coursing through his veins allowing him to block out most of the pain. Reese turns with a look of utter annoyance on his face. The shooter's eyes widen and they try to shoot again but old .45 jams. As he looks from the gun to Reese, the shooter becomes more and more agitated. John gives him a few seconds before letting out a small smirk, rushing up to the guy, and headbutting him. They exchange blows, John clearly the superior fighter, for 30 seconds before more footsteps reverberate through the building. Reese glances down the steps, sees three more guys coming, and pushes the shooter down the steps to meet them. Instead of staying to deal with the rest of them, he exits the stairwell and finds an alternative exit to the building.

"Mr. Reese?"

"Yes Finch." John tries to keep the wince from the pain out of his voice.

"Are you alright? Did you handle ?"

John pauses and uses his left hand to probe the wound. The shooter managed to hit him above the hip and to the left. Thankfully, the angle of the shot and age of the gun caused the bullet not to sink too deeply into his back.

"He won't be bothering anyone anytime soon, but I'll need to pay him another visit." There's a minuscule pitch change in John's voice at the end of the sentence, he hopes Finch didn't notice.

"Are you alright, Mr. Reese?"

"Just peachy, Harold."

There's a brief moment of silence before John hangs up. He walks out of the building, over to his car, and manages to painfully maneuver himself into the driver's seat. The adrenaline has already started to ware off making the gunshot much more noticeable. Despite knowing he's wasting precious time, John sits in the car for a moment trying to consider his options. He could go to an urgent care center and force a doctor to leave and help him, but that requires more walking and energy than he has left. There's also the option of just going to the hospital, he gives a slight smile, because yes that's a great idea. Option number three is going to the library to get Finch to do it. Could be worse. Could be like the last time he needed Finch's help. John clenches the steering wheel at the thought of his last encounter with the CIA. He really does not like getting shot. As soon as he gets patched up he is coming back for these guys.

With a grunt, Reese shifts his weight to his right leg to make driving easier and less painful. The trip to the Library is fairly short, mostly because John was flooring it in an effort not to loose too much blood. As pulls up outside the Library, the exCIA agent realizes getting into the car was the easy part and getting out is going to be much more painful. John's not typically one to wait around, especially when he's already lost a bit more blood than he wanted, so he takes the direct approach. Swinging both legs out of the car, John makes it out with a wave of pain and stumbles to the ground.

He struggles to stand again as the outside door to the Library opens.

"John?!" Finch limps down the steps to try to assist John.

"Harold." Reese pauses as Finch makes his way over to the car. "I may need a hand."

"Were you shot? We should take you to a hospital." Despite his statement, Finch helps John get an arm around his shoulder to take some of the weight off his side. "I brought a clinic after the last time. I could take you there, no one would ask any questions."

"No hospitals." John grunts as the duo slowly begins to make their way into The Library.

The trip to the main room is slow and arduous. Finch occasionally slows for his own sake and John's, who hasn't been able to keep all the grunts of pain from leaving his throat. The duo reaches the room after nearly a minute. Once there, Finch leaves John leaning against a table off to the side of the room.

"Get the big first aid kit. You'll need large tweezers."

Finch makes a face, probably wanting to convince the taller man to go to the clinic, but dutifully grabs the larger first aid kit. He turns around to see John struggling to take off his coat. Finch hands John the tweezers, John hands them back with raise of his eyebrows.

"I'm going to need you to take the bullet out Finch." He gives Harold no time to talk by leaning on the table and untucking his dress shirt. The wound is much more visible once John hitches the back of his shirt up.

Though the gunshot wound looks bad, it isn't nearly as bad as the last time Reese was shot. The area around the wound is red from the blood and pain. The wound itself is on the smaller side and, given John's ability to still walk, the bullet didn't go too far.

Harold puts on gloves and moves towards the hole with the tweezers, but stops. "Mr. Reese, once again I must insist you go to the clinic. I'm no doctor and I-"

John twists slightly to look at Finch. "Just take the bullet out Harold."

The shorter man drops his head in exasperation but begins to dig into John's back for the bullet. Harold admires John in a way. The former agent is able to do and withstand things Harold definitely isn't able to. Case in point, John barely flinches as Finch spends a minute with a pair of tweezers in his back. Luckily, for Harold who is getting queasy, not John, the bullet isn't deep and is taken out relatively easily.

"I can handle the rest." Reese straightens up and grabs the alcohol. Instead of directly applying it, he reaches for the bandages to pour alcohol on. A good portion of the bandage is wet before he uses both hands to wrap his lower torso. Just watching makes Harold want to yell in pain for John, instead he takes off the gloves and hears John make a grunt as the alcohol comes in contact with the wound.

The pain barley phases John,now that the bullet's out, who stands upon wrapping the wound and tucks his shirt back in. He puts on his coat, though both the coat and shirt are now ruined, and begins to walk down The Library hallway.

"Where are you going?" Finch sounds, and looks, alarmed as he follows John to the weapons stash. The taller man doesn't even turn around. He grabs a sub-machine gun, a pistol, and a grenade launcher before answering.

"To pay Jamie a visit." There's the audible click of a magazine being put into the sub-machine gun.

"What are you going to do Mr. Reese."

John smirks though Finch can't see it. "I'm going to inform them they need to watch who they shoot."

Finch wisely chooses to say nothing, but watches as John takes the weapons and walks out of the door. He glances down at the ammo and realizes John didn't take real bullets, besides the grenade launcher, but nonlethal rounds.

"Don't worry Finch. They're just dumb kids I'm not going to kill them, yet."

There's laughter and loud talking flowing out of an abandoned warehouse. The warehouse is commonly used as a hangout for the up and coming gangs before they move up in the ranks. Jamie Kenway, and his recently acquired friends, are currently drinking beer and laughing over the story of the guy in the suit.

The guys sit in the corner of the warehouse where a couch and table are set up. Each of them have a beer in their hands, relaxing as they come up with ways to rise in the ranks. Jamie and the shooter are both sporting black eyes, split lips, and a myriad of bruises, but don't let the soreness stop the party, they shot John after-all.

Meanwhile, John is walking up to the building with the grenade launcher in his hands, the sub-machine gun slung over his shoulder, and the pistol tucked into his pants.

He shoots one round from the grenade launcher into the door. The warehouse door blows inward causing yelling, shouts and panic from the gang inside. John walks up to the entrance and drops the grenade launcher to the ground. The gang is gaping at him in shock before one yells at them to grab their guns.

The apparent leader tries to shoot first, but John is ready for it. The former CIA agent has already flipped the sub-machine gun from his back to a resting position in his hands. He hits the leader center mast leaving him clutching his ribs on the ground, to injured to move. The other members hesitate slightly prompting John to shoot them as well, multiple times to ensure they won't be moving any time soon. Jamie forgoes a gun and tries to rush up to him, like that plan worked so well before. John promptly pushes the sub-machine gun to his back and uppercuts Jamie in the stomach then headbutts him. The blonde is rendered unconscious and falls to the ground. Once Jamie is taken care of, he moves on to the last cowering member of the gang. John grabs the guy by the throat, shoving him up against the wall in the process, and pulls out the pistol.

Reese holds the gun against the younger man's sweating temple. "I don't appreciate being shot." He smiles eerily at the man. "End your 'gang' activities now or I won't be nearly as amiable next time." The young man simply stares petrified causing John to strengthen his grip and take the safety off the pistol. "Live ammo next time. Do you understand me?" After a few sincere frantic head shakes John knees the man in the stomach and throws him to the ground.

"Good, tell your 'boss'. " He then proceeds to shoot the younger man three times in the stomach and once in each leg. John glances around the warehouse, pleased to see all the other members of the gang still on the ground, looking for a bag. He reaches for an old gym bag, probably belonging to one of the gang members, laying partially under the couch and begins to shove all of their guns into it.

Satisfied with his work, John Reese walks out of the warehouse with a smirk on his face, his weapons and the gym bag, leaving one groaning leader and five unconscious followers.

AN: John has to be one of the coolest tv characters I've ever had the pleasure of watching. This fic doesn't do POI justice but I was bored so I wrote something.