Energy Of Interest_

Summary:

When the machine gives them the number of a brilliant energy scientist, they must move quickly to keep him and his groundbreaking work safe from the onslaught of professional hit-men hired by a mysterious and dangerous foe that will stop at nothing to succeed. The numbers are against them and they may very well not survive.

Part One.

Adventure, drama, crime, hurt/comfort

Rated M for Language and violence

Reese, Finch, and Carter (tinny bit of Fusco)

Thank you so much to my beta ReeseisLAVAhot for you guidance and encouragement!

I sadly don't own POI or any of it's wonderful characters...just happy I get to play with them.

The sunrises of New York had always held a special allure, but never more so than now. The fresh, misty morning air told of an innocence, of life vibrating, ready to burst from its quiet slumber… so unaware.

Harold Finch gazed at the rising sun, walking with a purpose to his limping stride. He took this same path each morning. Though it caused him pain, it kept him connected to the world. She connected him to the world. And reminded him why he does what he does.

Grace would be here, on this path, setting up her easel, making ready to capture the rising magic that only she saw through her pure and perfect eyes. Nothing was the same after he'd met his beloved ex-Fiance. For better or for worse, God help him – she'd taught him true love and the value of life.

She was his everything and for that reason, for her safety, he had to stay away. He faked his death, giving her up to a lie, but he would never stop loving her or using what she'd taught him. It was what drove him to save those considered irrelevant and left helpless by a flawed system.

So each morning he would walk his path to the abandoned library and continue the work, providing for that desperate need. And in his heart of hearts, he knew Grace would be proud.

"Good morning Harold." Reese stealthily drifted into the main computer room of the library to find Finch already busy at work. "You're here even earlier than usual."

"There's always a need Mr. Reese. But I could say the same about you. Anything the matter?"

"No, no... just couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come in early see if there was anything happening."

Reese offhandedly said as he handed Finch a cup of hot tea and drank from his coffee. "We haven't had a number in a few days."

"Really Mr. Reese, you should take advantage of those rare moments you're not chasing, protecting or defending a number. Perhaps you should consider taking a vacation during these lulls."

This earned him a side long look and scowl. Harold turned his focus back to the screen, "But not now. As luck would have it, you needn't be bored any longer."

Finch rose and limped to their display glass taping up a photo of their new number. "Howard Miller, 56. Born in upstate NY. He graduated from MIT in 1995 with a Masters in Electrical Engineering and a Doctorate in Energy Management. He'd worked for Ceespan, an energy company in New Orleans, until 2011, then moved back to NY where he currently works for Synergy Power, in their research and development department. He now lives in Whitestone with his young wife of one year, Victoria Emmam Miller. They met and married in New Orleans. No other relatives. His research has primarily centered around energy efficiency and design. So far he's been both a model citizen, husband and a dedicated employee. Not so much as a parking ticket and like you, has no history of taking a vacation until now."

"Sounds like a perfectly boring guy, Finch. So what's the threat?"

"I'm still working on that Mr. Reese. I've been able to take a look at his office computers, emails and files, but didn't find anything unusual. However, I have, as of yet, not been able to link with his home computer, which leads me to believe he apparently keeps it offline. He keeps a very low profile with regards to his work. And I have to say, his security measures are quite impressive compared to what we usually deal with."

"Sounds like he's trying to hid something. Where did you say he went on vacation?"

"I didn't, he hasn't left his home in Whitestone. Which is odd... since his wife left last week for their vacation home in Baton Rouge."

"Think they're having marital issues? Wouldn't be the first time a wife and husband had it out for each other."

"Agreed, but in this case I don't think so. Nothing points to any discord between them." Finch never took has eyes from the screen nor did his fingers slow their speedy dance across the keyboard. "No, she seems to have lived a very quiet life. There's not much about her on the networks, seems to have a very limited digital footprint. But I'll dig deeper and check into their finances."

"I should probably check out his house, take a look around."

"Miller's house is well protected, utilizing a rather sophisticated GMI security system. But I think we can use that to our advantage. I'll create a glitch and schedule a repair tech to take care of the problem. Shouldn't take me...but... a minute... there, got it. I have you working as a GMI tech scheduled at 3:00pm today to replace a circuit board in his security system."

"Wow, that was fast." Finch's computer skills continually left Reese in awe.

"I simply sent so many pings to the system that it became overloaded. Mr. Miller will be leaving shortly after you arrive, he has an appointment with his accountant at 3:30pm downtown. And Mr. Reese, you can pick up your uniform at the dry cleaners on 3868 13th St, on Long Island on your way up."

Reese had plenty of time to deal with traffic and make it to Miller's house well ahead of his appointment. So he cased the neighborhood and the perimeter of the property.

Finch was right, Miller's house was a veritable fortress, surrounded by a ten foot perimeter rock wall topped with glass and two arrays of high tensile shock wire. There were infrared motion sensor cameras on all corners and that was just what he could see driving past it. Reese couldn't help but wonder what secrets the good Dr. was hiding that he'd need THAT much security.

The neighborhood was up scale, big homes, gated entries, perfect landscaping and no cars on the road except hired help. He'd seen a two gardeners, a painters' van and a UPS truck. He pulled up to the gate and pressed the buzzer.

"Yes?"

"Hello, I'm with GMI Security." Reese held up his fake credentials.

With a hum the giant gates swung open to reveal an ominous stone house, with multi-level terraces and spiked metal bars over and around every possible entry - truly suggestive of a medieval castle. 'Only thing missing is a moat.' Reese mused, almost disappointed that he'd missed a good challenge by getting in so easily.

"Finch, this guy's seriously paranoid."

As the door opened John had to remain professional and stifle a laugh. Inviting him in, was a man who epitomized the image of a 'mad scientist': unshaven, tousled white hair, glasses dangling from their neck strap and fifty pens clustered in the breast pocket of a poorly fitting lab coat. Well we know appearance isn't his concern.

"Come in. Come in. It's in here. What the hell happened, I thought you guys were supposed to be the best? You said it would never fail."

"Actually it didn't. It isolated the problem to one circuit board, keeping the system active. Should only take me a couple of hours to find it." John lied through his teeth keeping it simple. He found that most people would automatically fill in the blanks with their expectations with only slight prompting.

"Yeah, ok... well I have to run. I have an appointment in town that I'm late for. But I'll be back before you're done."

Miller seemed distracted, scattered and nervous as he deposited the lab coat on a hook and searched the counter, haphazardly shoving papers into his briefcase and patting himself down three times.

Before he could get out of range, Reese cloned Miller's phone. "Finch, I'm in and have ears on Miller; he's just leaving. I've deactivated the security systems and found his computer. Inserting your remote access drive now."

"Excellent Mr. Reese. It's a good connection."

"I'm going to look around, see what else I can find." Reese scanned the room with a frown." This guy seems really jumpy, more than just a twitchy nature, something has him spooked."

John had found his lab but there was nothing there. He figured someone wound that tight might have a more secure work area, maybe even a panic room. So he began methodically checking for non-conventional spaces, looking for extra thick walls that didn't line up, or rooms that seemed smaller than they should have been.

His search paid off. One of the office walls was much too thick considering the bedroom behind it and the book case in front seemed to hover over the rug.

"I found a secret room and am trying to locate the switch." A recessed button under a desk lamp did the trick, filling the room with a low hum as the book case began to pivot revealing a good sized room. A wall of surveillance screens filled the room in a dim blue light, illuminating two giant eraser boards that made up the other walls.

"Mr. Reese so far there is nothing on his computer indicating a threat or pointing to an intended crime."

"Well, I might have found something. A secret room of schematics and formulas. I'm sending you some pictures n-..." Just as Reese hit the send button the wall of TV screens shattered, spraying him with glass and debris. He hit the ground rolling from the small room just as it burst into flames. The office window to the east side, had a perfect hole through it.

"Mr. Reese! What was that?"

John drew his gun as he ran. "Someone just tried to blow my head off. I'm gonna go thank them personally." He huffed out.

"Careful Mr. Reese."

John peered out in the direction he estimated the shot had come from. He couldn't make anyone out, but the thick tree line could easily conceal someone. With a quick jerk he opened the door and rolled in a tight tuck maneuver coming to rest up again a rock terrace. Almost immediately another shot rang out peppering him in razor sharp chips of stone. "Finch, whatever they're using, it's high powered with a secondary explosive."

John laid down cover fire, sending five rounds in the direction of the shooter, buying just enough time to make a low dash to a garden shed. Hitting the wall hard and flat, he glanced around the back corner, finally catching a glimpse of the shooter now running between the wall and tree line. Reese took aim and fired, dropping him instantly.

Finch stood on edge listening to the rapid gun fire, hating how helpless he always felt until receiving a response from Mr. Reese. "Mr. Reese. John are you ok?" He held his breath.

Covering the distance to the perp, Reese crouched over the still gunman confirming him dead, "I got him Finch, he's dead. Definitely a gun for hire type, mask, gloves, vest and carrying a highly specialized rifle with armor piercing rounds with a double skin to explode on the second impact. This guy meant business, saw me in the office and thinking I was Miller, took his shoot. Dr. Miller's gotten himself on someone's radar."

"So far I've found nothing to indicate why. I'm inputting those images you sent, now. They may shed some light on the problem."

"Finch, if things have escalated to using professional contract killers, we'd better get him to a safe house now. I can't protect him from multiple freelance assassins. We can identify the threat later."

"Agreed, you'd better get to him and stay close. His GPS says he's just getting to his appointment with his accountant Devlin Steal at the Steal and Stern Investment firm on 43rd and 2nd.

Mr. Reese, the computer just finished analyzed the images you sent. They appear be formulas and diagrams centering around a sustained energy reactor. If I'm interpreting this correctly, I believe he may have actually succeeded. Mr. Reese, this would be a discovery of immeasurable proportions, replacing conventional energy sources as we know them! I can only imagine how many would want to get their hands on his work, be it to capitalize or like those in the fossil fuel industry, bury it. Either way, this is a glaring reason his number came up. Dr. Miller is in the gravest of dangers."

"We need to find out who else knows about his private work, narrow down the field to less than the 'whole' fossil fuel industry. I'm heading there now, get to him before someone else does."

Reese switched vehicles to one of Finch's sports cars, a Mustang GT. Reese always appreciated a fast car but having a reason to push it simply increased the thrill. Normally he stayed under the radar, but his gut was telling him that time was not on the good doctor's side, so he took a few 'liberties' with the traffic laws.

He sped through and around traffic, using every inch of the road and sometimes a whole new lane, to dodge the slower vehicles until the enormous building of Steal & Stern came into view. Its endless expanse of windows reflected the surrounding city against the reddening horizon.

Reese started to pull into the parking garage when a violent jolt racked through the car as if he'd been hit. A deafening blast thundered from above, followed by the telltale echo of an explosion. He was too late! Burning debris fell from the sky, spewing a deadly rain storm of twisted metal and crumbling concrete.

Aiming for the lobby doors, Reese dove for cover just missing being crushed by a piano sized slab of concrete, now deeply embedded in the roof of Finch's car. He flattened himself against a wall to avoid the frantic herd of people attempting to escape the destruction. "Finch, I'm too late. Someone just set off a bomb in the building. What floor is he on?"

"His signal is on the fifth floor, go left down the hall to the last office."

Working his way to the fifth floor, he had to negotiate fleeing employees and the thickening smoke. Reese darted from office to office, directing the disoriented survivors back toward the stairwell and grieving for the hazy shadows of the unlucky dead.

Smoke burned his throat, slowing his progress as his body desperately tried to draw enough oxygen. "I'm heading down the hallway now. Has his signal moved?" He used the hallway wall as a guide, straining to see through his stinging eyes as each room showed an increasing level of devastation and tragedy. He'd seen many such sights of horror, but being in New York brought back the hideous nightmare he'd hoped he would never have to relive.

"No, it's still at the end of the hall."

Finally he came to the last office...or more accurately, what was left of it. It was simply blown from the building. Without a doubt, this was the center of the blast, evaporating the office to nothingness and leaving a gaping balcony to the city bellow. "Finch, it's not looking good, there were a lot of people here."

Paper debris swirled around in the heat driven gusts of smoldering wind. "Doctor Miller! Miller can you hear me?!" More bodies lay in the surrounding rubble, thrown and sprawled across desks, heaped like boneless rag dolls, but no sign of their latest number.

"Have you found him yet Mr. Reese?"

"Not yet. Dr. Miller can you hear me? I'm here to help you." A low moan drew Reese's attention to a heavy desk blown onto its side against a wall. "Wait, I hear something." He heard another groan as he pulled it back. The thick furniture had shielded Dr. Miller from the majority of the blast. Reese reached out to a very fortunate but disoriented, Howard Miller.

"Dr. Miller, my name is John, I'm here to help. We have to get you out of here." Miller stared at John with anxious fear, but took his offered hand. "Were we attacked?" Miller followed Reese in a shocked daze as firefighters rushed past them.

"I think you were." Reese offered over his shoulder.

"Me?!" But Reese ignored him, instead concentrating on guiding him out of the building and finding the nearest means of escape.

Reese smashed the window of an old LTD, swiftly ushering Miller into the passenger side. "Give me your phone."

Miller didn't question him as he handed it to Reese, but his eyes grew in surprise when he saw Reese throw it into the back of a passing pickup truck. "What the hell?!"

"Trust me." Was all Reese said as he cracked the steering column, stripped and sparked the starter wires bringing the old car to life. Normally not his first choice, but anything quick and easy would do at the moment.

Reese kept a sharp watch as they left the chaos and mayhem in the rear view mirror. With any luck, they'd think Miller was dead and could relax. But things rarely worked so smoothly. He gave the car a little more gas. The sooner they got to the safe house the better.

It struck him what a sad commentary this case was, illustrating people's greedy short sightedness. This man may very well have come up with a form of free energy that could advance mankind into a new era. And someone wanted to kill him for their own selfish motives!

Then again was he any better? Having spent his adult life centered around violence and death justified under the guise of patriotic service? Service motived by the selfish goals of government agencies with their own agendas which ultimately had nothing to do with patriotism at all. He could never find true redemption for the things he'd done, but he would damn well give it a shot by saving the people that positively contribute to society, like Dr. Howard Miller and Detective Carter.

John turned his attention to Miller. "Dr. Miller. Are you ok, are you hurt?"

Shaking his head but clearly in shock, "Shouldn't we go to the authorities? Where are we going? Who are you?"

"We're getting you some place safe. The men that did this are hired assassins. That bomb blast was meant for you... so believe me when I say the police won't be able to protect you." Turning from Miller he taped his earwig, " Finch, we're heading to the safe house."

"Oh thank God. I heard about the explosion. They're calling it a terrorist attack."

"Safe house? Who are you talking to? Hey wait... I recognize you? don't I?... Yeah you're the security repair guy! What's going on?"

"My friend and I are trying to protect you from the people trying to kill you. Do you have any idea who that might be?"

"I...No. I have no idea. For all I know you're a part of this whole thing. Take me home."

"If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. Your home isn't safe. While I was there someone tried to kill me thinking I was you. I'm assuming the reason these people are after you, is to steal or destroy your energy work? Either way they want you out of the picture. "

Miller glared at Reese stunned and surprise. "How did you know about that?"

Ignoring the his question, "Who else knows about it Doctor?" Reese pressed.

"My wife but not in detail. The only other person is, was, my accountant... Oh God Devlin! He knew, and now he's...he's dead. I was going to see him at his office when the bomb went off. How can this be happening? I was so careful."

The realization seemed to be overwhelming Miller, so Reese tried to keep him focused. "Someone else must know and they mean business. Where is your work?"

But before Doctor Miller could answer, a black SUV wildly skidded from a side road, side swiping their car and assuming a dangerous proximity to their bumper. Reese fought to steady the car, pushing the old 390 for all it was worth. But it was no match for the bigger, more agile truck. The SUV easily sped up next to the driver's side, rapid flashes illuminated the interior as machine gun fire pelleted their car. The side and rear windows shattered as Reese grabbed Miller, yanking him down into the seat.

Reese swerved into the truck, glad at least for the old car's heavy weight as the SUV was forced over, momentarily losing control and careening against the guard rail. But too soon it again resumed its deadly pursuit. Both men were thrown back into their seats as they were slammed from behind. Reese steered with his right hand and tried to empty his gun into the SUV behind them. Bullet proof glass proved, yet again, that they weren't up against the usual bad guy but rather a group of professionals. This was getting old.

"Hang on!" At the last minute, Reese cranked the wheel hard left, using every ounce of strength to pilot the beastly car onto a side road. Unfortunately the SUV still managed to violently bounce across a field, filling the night sky with grass and brush.

Reese felt played out, he was limited by his equipment, or lack thereof, thinking his grenade launcher would be so handy right about now as the SUV moved up beside them. A shot to his front tire, combined with a crushing side swipe, caused Reese to lose control of the two and a half ton car. He braced himself, fighting the car as it wildly fishtailed then skidded into three metal crushing flips, coming to a painfully abrupt stop in a deep ditch.

Dazed and battered, Reese's first thought was to check on Miller, who was only half conscious but seemed alright. Releasing his seatbelt, he half climbed, half fell out of the awkwardly tilted car, landing on his knees. He put the smashed car to his back as a brace and shook his head, blinking several times to clear his vision and survey their surroundings.

Approaching headlights confirmed another attack. He took cover in front of the car. "Miller, stay down and don't move!" he demanded. If he was lucky they'd think the crash had taken care of their problem and come in cocky.

The two men seemed to think just that, with their guns brazenly holstered as they loudly joked about the "beat to shit car' and 'amazingly cool crash.' Reese didn't waste one second of his advantage and shot each gunman in the knee. "Never let you're guard down fellas. " Reese scolded on his way to question his attackers. "Who hired you?"

But neither hit man had any interest in talking. The only response he got was a few wildly shot rounds forcing him to quickly duck and shoot both men dead. "Really?!" Oh Carter is going to be so pissed.

For a second time that day Reese helped Miller out of the crumpled confines of destruction, helping him toward the SUV and propping him up against it.

"Finch we've got a problem."

"Mr. Reese what just happened?"

"We had another encounter with more hit men. I don't know how they found us. We left the city clean. They've got to be tracking Miller somehow. How soon can you be here?"

"I'm already on my way, maybe five minutes from your location."

Reese quickly stripped one of the gunmen of his jacket, shoes and pants. Miller's clothes had to be bugged. The Doctor didn't even seem aware as he was instructed to redress, simply went through the motions until Finch's headlights sparked a sudden panic attack. "No, no, no... I can't do this, it's...too much, too many dead...Devlin - Oh God my wife! They'll kill her next! They can have it..."

He nervously started to back away when Reese took a firm hold of his shoulders and lightly shook him. "Listen to me. We," He looked over his shoulder. "Mr. Finch and I, can protect you but you need to tell us everything you know, only then can we put a stop to this. We've already secured your wife, moved her to safety, now let us help you." With the mention of his wife, Miller seemed to calm, returning to a more coherent state.

Finch tentatively edged closer. "You can call me Harold. Please come with me, you can trust us." Finch turned to Reese as he steered Miller to his car. "What are you going to do with the clothes?"

He grinned, "Wild goose chase. Take them back to the city, throw them off your trail and give you time to get to the safe house. Be careful and keep your eyes open, these aren't our usual run of mill thugs." With that, he grabbed the bag of clothes and headed for the SUV.

"John your head is bleeding."

He wiped at the blood at his temple. "Just a scratch, Finch. See if you can get anything out of him."

Reese needed the perfect situation, subterfuge yet avoiding any collateral damage. He decided the clothes needed to go for a little ride. Reese drove the SUV to an underground parking structure near the Inwood subway station. He knew the maintenance train would be running on the A line this time of night. Thirty-one miles of slow run time would give Finch ample time to get clear.

The train deck was fairly deserted, with the exception of a couple workers loading up the days trash. He didn't have to wait long for the train to pull up. Quickly adding the trash bag to their pile, he smoothly slid past and exited the area. "There that should do it." He smiled making his way to the nearest restroom.

Between the explosion and car crash he looked more like the dirty bum he'd been when Finch first hired him... he didn't feel much better either. He was pretty sure he was ignoring a slight concussion and bruised ribs from the roll over but there would be plenty of time for wound licking after the threat against Miller was neutralized. For now, nothing a hot shower, quick meal and fresh clothes couldn't fix. He was out of ammo and needed to arm 'up' anyway so he hailed a cab heading for his apartment. Time to pull out the serious fire power.

Reese saw everything. With a mere glance he absorbed even the tiniest details of his surroundings, he couldn't help it. It was as ingrained as breathing. So when the same car lingered one too many times since leaving the train station, he wasn't about to ignore it. Whoever they were had been doing a good job, hanging well back, even to the point of casting doubt if they'd been following anyone else. But Reese wasn't anyone.

He instructed the cab driver to drop him right there, even though it wasn't anywhere near his loft, he wouldn't risk it. Reese casually slipped into an old liquor store, positioning himself toward the street and taped his earwig. "Finch, I'm being followed. Finch?" He frowned when it went to voice mail. The car passed by and turned right at the corner. Most likely to circle around. The car was new, so it had no plates yet, convenient.

Wanting to get this over with, he left the store turning right. The night air was heavy with the threatening rain. But the prickly energy he felt had nothing to do with the incoming weather. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end as he ducked into an ally, gun drawn before he remembered it was empty. He waited, watched...still nothing out of the ordinary. Maybe his senses were off, hit his head harder than he thought? He jumped as roosting pigeons scattered above and instinctually he flattened up against the brick wall just in time to avoid a hail of bullets raining down around him. The hit man must have been tracking him from the buildings above.

Finding the side door to the building, he kicked it in and made for the roof. Apparently they both had the same idea when he heard hurried footsteps descending toward him. Reese ducked into an alcove, ambushing the man as he passed. A couple inches taller and out weighing Reese by a good fifty pounds, it was like derailing a train as he drove his shoulder into the guy throwing him into the railing and causing him to drop his gun down the stair well. John had to quickly dodge a right elbow and deflect a backward kick. Definitely angered, the assailant threw himself at Reese, fists flying with blinding speed. This guy had training, he matched Reese's aggressive style punch for punch, kick for kick. They grappled for the upper hand, staggering down the stairs, desperately trying to maintain their balance as they slammed into the walls and railings.

Reese swung a powerful upper cut to the man's jaw, unfortunately opening himself up to hard jab to his bruised ribs. Seeing Reese protectively grab them, the perp recognized the weakness and attacked again, thrusting his shoulder directly into them with a linebacker tackle that sent both men down the last few steps.

The gunman landed heavily, sprawled on the floor, while Reese managed to stay upright but hit hard, against the wall. It only took that split second of being dazed to give his attacker the upper hand. The hit man had found his dropped gun. Reese felt the familiar ripping heat of a bullet pierce his side then heard the blast echo up the stair well. The impact spun him but instead of fighting the momentum he let his training take over and followed through with a snapping, 'end all,' roundhouse to the hit man's head. The sickening thunk of skull on concrete filled the stair well and his attacker slumped to the floor.

Reese clutched his burning side and knelt in front of the scrambled gunman. "Who hired you?" No answer prompted, a now pissed Reese to forcefully press a knife against his assailant's throat. "Better make use of your voice while you still have a throat." He pressed harder, drawing blood.

The semi-conscious man's eyes grew with terror and realization that his target was seriously going to kill him for the information. At this point the money wasn't worth it and he had no allegiance to his latest employer. "Ok, ok, I'll tell you what I know." With a wince, Reese withdrew some of the knife's pressure. "I accepted the job from an encrypted contractors site, like I always do. I don't know who hired me, I only know him by his username 'the_mambo666.' It's a don't ask, don't tell, kinda deal - do the job, get paid. I got my retainer, so figured it was legit."

"What were the orders?"

"Retrieve Miller's plans, wipe any evidence and terminate the Doc, plus get a bonus for taking out anyone closely involved with him. That's why I was on you. You had the tracker, so figured you for a partner. The order didn't matter."

"How were you supposed to deliver the plans?"

"Instructions would've been arranged through the site upon completion."

"And you're going to do just that." The perp frowned with confusion. "Where's your phone?..." Reese sent a short message confirming target acquisition and the kill. Now they'd wait.

"Thanks!" With an evil grin and bone jarring punch, Reese got great satisfaction rendering the idiot unconscious, the pain it caused him didn't diminish it in the least.

Using the wall to stand, John noted his wound was bleeding heavily. He'd have to deal with it soon. "Finch? I was starting to worry when I couldn't get you."

"Sorry Mr. Reese, the reception up here is awful. Something happen?"

"Picked up a tail and had another run in with the hired help but I got a lead on our puppet master. Apparently they're using an online wet works site to contract the killers. The orders are as we thought, kill and steal. As a bonus anyone that comes into close contact with Miller gets targeted too. I'm sending you the information now.

"Then who put the tracker on him in the first place? They would have had to be close enough to do it, why not kill him then?"

"I was wondering that myself. I think it could help narrow the field to someone he knows or works with. By the way, I used this guy's phone and sent a kill conformation, so with any luck we'll have a response and a meeting set soon. Get anything out of Miller?"

Finch laughed ironically. "Yes, he confirmed he has successfully creating plans for a sustained energy reactor. Says it works flawlessly. I'm still beside myself with the implications. We have to tread lightly Mr. Reese. I'm afraid the walls have eyes on this one. "

"In addition to the machine's normal eyes Finch?" Reese started to chuckled, but bit it back - it hurt.

"Any idea where the plans are now?"

"Oh yes! He's literally had them on his person the whole time. The only copy, he says, is on a flash drive around his neck."

Reese closed his eyes taking a moment to think about how close they'd come to being blown up, burned, or crushed in the last few hours. "To be safe, we should really get those to a separate location just in case. Having the information there with Miller is too risky. I'll get them shortly, just have to tie up a few loose ends here."

"Yes, I believe that would be prudent. And Mr. Reese, what if they want proof of Miller's death?"

"I've got that covered Finch." Reese hung up and made another call. "Hello Detective... I've got present for you..."

Part of Detective Joss Carter was annoyed every time, 'He' called. Knowing she'd have to deal with his vigilantism and less than legal methods, tested her clear-cut, 'by the book' approach. But then there was the part of her that prickled with thrilled excitement when his blocked ID popped up. Reese's lawless style and freedom, secretly quelled her frequent need to get out from under smothering legality and red taped procedures, if only through vicarious release. Though lately there's been less 'vicarious' and more 'hands on.'

She loved her job and everything it stood for - undeniably. But to be able to bypass the bureaucratic bullshit and simply put the bad guys down, was liberating. John Reese was not exactly the guy in the white hat, but she appreciated that he filled a certain need in these desperate and messed up times. Of course she could never let John know it.

And then... there was the part of her that tingled just at the idea of simply being close to him. 'No. I so did not just think that!' "What is it this time, John?"

"I've got a bad guy, all gift wrapped for you."

"Oh yeah? Wouldn't be like the two dead guys police officers found shot at the scene of a car crash outside'a town would it?"

"No, not like those guys..." Reese cringed, "This one's alive." He sheepishly grinned, "And... in my defense, I tried not to kill them, but they insisted."

Carter was so glad John couldn't see her smiling. She didn't approve of, or condone what he'd done but she had no doubt and trusted that if they were dead, there was a damn good reason. "John you just can't go around killing people! So where are you now?"

"Actually, have Lionel bring his car to pick up this perp - North west ally on 34th and High St. I need you for something else. I need a ride."

"You've got to be kidding me! Hail a cab John. Do I look like a taxi service to you?"

"Well no, but you do have the cool siren." John relished pushing Carter's buttons. He'd grown quite comfortable working with her. Actually, he really enjoyed it. She was an invaluable asset, a good and honest cop in addition to being an upstanding human being. Honestly she made him want to be a better person in so many ways. Somehow, when he was around her, he felt less broken, as if she were a type of glue for his shattered morality.

Having worked with John for some time now, she was certain there was a vital reason he'd ask her for something so mundane. He could try to hide behind jokes or casual banter but with John, there was always an end game. This time however, there was an unusual underlying intensity to his voice that seemed a bit off. "Everything ok John?"

"Fine Detective... fill you in when you get here." Her perceptive nature always impressed him. But he hadn't wanted to get into details over the phone. They had to be very careful setting this up.

Reese looked down as another stab of pain reminded him he needed to tend his wound. It was in a fairly innocuous area but the bleeding hadn't slowed and would literally drain his energy soon.

A janitor's closest tucked under the stairs peaked his interest and gave him some hope of finding a few things he could put to use while he waited.

The door budged with a sticky squeak giving way to shelves of useless cleaning supplies, mops, and buckets, until he found what he was looking for - a box of towels and a roll of duct tape. Crude, but would make a decent field dressing none the less.

He hissed, pressing a folded towel to his side and held his breath while he tightly wrapped the tape around his waist a few times. 'That should hold.' He'd had worse, and would deal with it later. Right now he needed to read Carter in, re-arm and get back to Finch to secure the plans before their lead perp wanted to meet. With any luck he'd have the bad guy by morning.

Carter and Lionel pulled up about twenty minutes later. Their only direction down the long, dank ally was marked by the faint light of an open doorway. It had started raining about forty five minutes ago, long enough that they had to dodge puddles but not long enough to wash away the stink.

As they got to the door, "Hello Detectives." Reese stepped from the shadows, causing them both to jump in surprise. Enjoying his knack for stealth, "Your perp's inside." He gestured toward the heaped gun man at the base of the steps.

"Damn! You're gonna give me a heart attack, lurking in the dark like that! Good way to get yourself shot." Fusco grumbled as he knelt down next to the perp. " Ah man... what the hell did you do to him? Now I'm gonna have to carry his unconscious ass all the way to the car."

Carted scolded, ignoring him to look over the scene.

"So you'd rather I leave a little fight in them for you, Fusco?"

"Whatev'a, Wonder Boy. Nothing you do or don't do, will ever be less than a pain in my ass." He trailed off and began cuffing the man. "You don't look much better than he does, you get your ass handed to you?"

Reese cut Fusco off, turning to Carter with one of his text book grins, "Shall we?" And started heading towards her car.

"Sure. Hey Fusco, see you later..."

"Yeah, yeah... Whatev'a."

Carter studied John with suspicious eyes. He seemed off as he'd got into the car, stiff. "Ok, John why all the cloak and dagger? What's up?"

John turned to Carter, "What? No small talk, I'm hurt. Right ok, to the point then...I need you to release a story to the press, buy some time for our victim who's caught in the cross hairs of a professional hit squad."

"So you want me to lie?" She rolled her eyes, "Why am I not surprised."

With what Carter called John's, 'innocent face' he said, "Yeah but it's for a good cause Carter."

She knew she'd give in. "Ok, who is he and what's going on?"

"His name is Dr. Howard Miller, he's an energy researcher whose work has struck a nerve with someone wanting our guy dead. We need them to think they've succeeded. Only way to call off the dogs."

"A researcher, why? So, you don't know who's behind it?"

"Not yet. That's why we need you, Detective. We need to convince 'him' it's been done. I've already sent the confirmation message but I need you to substantiate it so he'll want to meet." Reese rubbed his forehead feeling a wave of dizziness and tried to concentrate. His wool coat was starting to feel wet, he hoped it was the rain as he ignored the growing pain.

"Ok, when do you need me to release the report and with what details?"

Deliberately not looking right at Carter, he blinked slowly schooling his facial expression to maintain his game face. "Add him to the fatalities of the car crash. Tonight...tonight would work."

Carter prided herself on being a good cop, always aware and in tune with her surroundings. So when Reese used way to much effort to act 'fine,' she knew he wasn't. "John, where you involved in that car accident tonight? How badly are you hurt?"

"I'm fine Carter." John realized he needed to get to his apartment, to better tend his wound before he could head out to the safe house. So as Carter came to a stop relatively close, Reese started to open the door. "Here's good. My apartment's close. I'll be in..." He never got the chance to finish, his vision swam and grayed as he stood, forcing him to slump against the car.

"Hey, John!" In an instant, she was out of the car, steadying him back into the passenger seat. The hand she'd wrapped around his waist came away sticky with blood. "Shit!" Quickly parting his jackets and peeling away his black shirt, she found a saturated towel. "What happened? Why didn't you say anything?"

He placed a cold clammy hand over hers. "It's nothing Carter. Looks worse than it is."

"I'm sure, says Superman." His words did little to comfort her. Knowing him he'd say that if his head got blown off. She frantically ran through her options getting back into the car. "John where can I take you? Hospital? Clinic? Ambulance?"

"No... have to call Finch... but... no service." He was fading fast.

Knowing John's history, the conventional means of medical aid were out of the question. She tried dialing Finch despite what he'd said, but got nothing. John hadn't yet shown her where his apartment was and he needed a safe place so she could help him. The only thing she could think of, was her place.

"John, can you hear me?" She patted his clammy cheek.

Reese heard Carter's distant voice filter through his foggy brain. "I hear you Detective, stop hitting me." He answered in a low husky tone, eyes slowly opening.

"Can you help me get you inside?" He nodded as she slid her arm behind him and he lay his across her shoulders. She got no argument out of him, so she knew he was hurting. She also knew he wouldn't be able to stand much longer and there was no way she'd be able to get him up her stairs without his help. So she pushed him harder than she would have liked. "Come on Reese! Dammit - move your feet soldier!"

His face bore a slight grin entertained by this new 'Drill Sargent' side of Carter he'd never seen before. But he was thankful there were no more stairs and could lean against the wall while she fumbled for her keys. "I'm really sorry about this, Carter."

His comment took her aback. Even exhausted and hunched in pain, he was worried about her. He was such an attractive man. Damn, where did that come from. Carter shook her head and blinked the thought away. "Hey, let's just concentrate on getting you some help." Carter said, more to herself than to him as she opened the door.

A feeling of safety and gratitude washed over him. In his lifetime, he could count the people that had made him feel that way on one hand. And she'd brought him to her home. John Reese hated imposing or relying on anyone. He valued his control and tried never dropping his armored facade, especially in front of someone he worked with and respected - especially in front of Joss Carter.

He was very conflicted about the feelings he had for her, trying to convince himself that it was just admiration for an amazing cop, amazing person... but there was more to it than that. He just wasn't ready to figure it out yet. His foggy brain certainly wasn't helping.

All of a sudden, it took all his concentration to just breath. Beads of sweat dotted his brow as he began to shake with the effort of standing and started to sink down the wall.

"Whoa! No you don't!" Carter grabbed him. She was pretty sure he was going into shock, and if he went down, she wouldn't have a hope of picking him up.

"Here, think you can make it to the couch?"

He nodded, reaching out and laying his shaking hand around her shoulder as they eased toward the couch. The pain was getting pretty bad and he felt like he weighed a million pounds. But the worried look marring Carter's pretty face was even more painful.

"Carter, I'll be fine." He was sweating, blinking slowly and tried to keep his voice steady. "I'll be out of here soon as I get patched up and rest a little. I promise."

Shaking her head and pressing her lips together, she looked at his blood saturated clothes and met his eyes. "Oh really?.. not so sure that's such a good idea. I'm thinking between you and the stairs...the stairs would win. We need to call someone John, there's a lot of blood. Is this a gunshot wound? What happened? "

"Yeah. Kinda pissed off that hired gun, well actually a couple of them. Amazing how depriving them of their mark'll do that. Last one got a lucky shot off...don't think it hit anything vital."

"Blood is pretty vital John!" All she could do was pray he was right, try to stabilize him and hope Finch would call. "Think you can get your clothes off?"

"Why Detective, do you really think now is the best time? I may not be at my best..." With hooded eyes and in his intoxicatingly smooth voice, John managed to get her once again.

More than that, she was annoyed at her body's reaction to his far from innocent powers of seduction. "You're a dog John. You're covered in bruises, been shot, bleeding all over my couch and you're gonna lay there flirting with me. You need your head examined."

"You wouldn't be the first person... to suggest that." John winced as he moved to accommodate Carter helping him shrug out of his jackets while finding a position that didn't hurt quite so much.

Secretly, she was touched, knowing his attempt to lighten the mood was for her benefit and took a lot out of him. His sheer force of will and strength had always impressed her. Her mind drifted back to when he'd been shot by Agent Snow. No ordinary person should have survived that, let alone been able to outrun her and escape down three flights of steps. She realized she was trying to convince and reassure herself that that had been worse and he'd be ok this time too. "Lie down so I can check you out. And NO more wise cracks."

Slowly he followed her instructions. He hesitated, trying to stop his head from spinning. He didn't want to scare her more by passing out. "Really have had worse."

It was like he'd heard her thoughts. "So I would think by now you'd be used to it - old hat. How many times have you been shot?" Carter nervously rambled as she placed a blanket over his legs, then settled on her knees next to him. "I'm gonna take a look. Sorry if it hurts."

She tried to ignore his amazing piercing blue eyes watching her while she peeled his wet shirt out of the way, cut the tape and pulled back the saturated towel. "Don't remember, stopped counting a few years ago."

Carter masked her shock at his ribs painted in ugly deep purple contrasting with the angry red wound still freely bleeding. "Ever heard of ducking? Here, keep pressure on it." She placed his hand over it and quickly went to the bathroom for her med kit.

She'd had enough medical training in the army to crudely patch someone up, but the whole point was to only stabilize them until real help could take over. And here he was trusting her with his life. If she wasn't so stressed she'd feel flattered. Damn - maybe he even considered her a friend, despite keeping her in the dark about their work... or perhaps he was refusing to tell her because he did? Either way, she'd be there for him, like he always was for her.

She pressed his hand down, harder onto the wound, making him suck in a breath. "John there's a lot of blood here. How long ago did this happen?"

"Not long before you came. Don't worry, soon as the bleeding is under control, I'll be out of your hair." John really hated appearing so vulnerable in front of Carter.

"Ok, now I know you're crazy. You're not going anywhere." She fixed him with her classic, I dare you to say one more word, stare.

Not surprisingly, it didn't work. "You keeping me prisoner, Detective?"

In response she took away the compress and began cleaning the wound, garnering a nice hiss. "Damn! Ok Carter, I take it all back."

She just gave him a raised eyebrow and said, "You should take some pain killers. Or do you want..."

Gritting his teeth, "No, I'm fine... just pack... the damn hole Carter."

Swallowing and forcing her hands not to shake, she began packing his wound with a thick pad of colex gauze. Thankfully the clotting agent was soon slowing the bleeding, helped by the tightly taped bandage.

Had it been her, she'd of screamed or passed out. But John didn't move, barely made a sound, only stared at her with his ruggedly handsome intensity. What the hell was wrong with her tonight? Rein it in Joss, you're not thinking clearly.

John was concentrating, trying to holding it together but his head was swimming and unfocused. He was angry at himself for letting the importance of this case push him beyond his normal protocols, for compromising the mission by not acknowledging his injuries sooner; the combination of which was depleting even his reserves. The mission was everything, but right now all he could appreciate was Carter.

Misinterpreting his concentration for pain, Carter laid a concerned hand on his shoulder. "I'm done, the bleeding should stop now." She pulled the blanket over him. "Get some rest if you can."

John shook his head trying to clear the cobwebs. "I screwed up Carter. I can't stay here." His words were beginning to slur and lacked strength.

"What do you mean? That's exactly what you're going."

"No... I need... to get to the safe house. This whole thing is about the plans..." he swallowed and closed his eyes, "...have to move them for security."

"What plans?" He wasn't making any sense. "Only thing you 'need' to do right now is rest. I'm sure Finch has it under control." She worriedly smiled. Carter knew from her field training that blood loss would take down the strongest of men no matter the severity of the initial wound. Without the ability to replace the fluids he'd lost she knew he wasn't really stable and coherent. "We've got to get you real help Reese. More than I can do, who can I call..."

"Finch, but there's no signal. He knows... saved her. Saved her before she got... broken like me." Carter frowned, again trying to make sense of his words as he faded, finally passing out. 'Broken?' But she shoved it aside for now... she needed to get a hold of Finch.

By now Reese was well past due and Finch was quite concerned. He'd been trying to reach Reese numerous times after he failed to show up at the safe house, but cell reception was terrible this far out. He didn't see a choice but to leave Miller with his body guard and head back toward town in search of a signal. When his phone finally rang he didn't even notice the incoming call wasn't from John's phone.

"Mr. Reese! Where are you?" He was not expecting to hear Detective Carter's voice or her hurried explanation. All he could do was listen.

"John's been shot. He's at my apartment. He lost aIot of blood and is beat up pretty good besides. He just now past out - which doesn't tell us much, since normal human reactions don't seem to apply to him. I know you guys can't use regular emergency channels, but he needs help Finch."

"Yes, Detective. I'll send someone right away and I'll be there shortly. And Detective... thank you."

Carter sat on the edge of her coffee table, watching Reese in silent contemplation. She hoped whomever Finch was sending would get here soon.

She distracted herself thinking about the case. What could an energy researcher have done that had everyone trying to kill him? What were the 'plans' John spoke of and who was ordering the hits? Scary thing was, whoever they were, they were using assassins good enough to take down John Reese. She still needed to release the report and hoped whatever he'd put into play would work. But she quickly shook off any doubt, knowing damn good and well, even on his death bed, John Reese would never drop the ball. Carter suddenly felt exhausted as her adrenaline started coming down.

Finch pressed the accelerator harder, tension increasing his usual level of pain from humming to screaming. Why hadn't Reese said anything when they last spoke? Granted his damn stoic nature was an asset to their work but it would eventually be his undoing. 'Or mine from the stress.'

Over the past year, John had rapidly become more than just an invaluable tool to Finch, he'd become a true and trusted friend. Finch had never expected that and as much as that made things better it also made the job emotionally harder. Just last year he'd come very close to losing Mr. Reese to the relentless CIA Agent, Mark Snow. Detective Carter had been manipulated into betraying John, resulting in him being mortally wounded. Finch had had some informal contingency plans in place for medical emergencies but quickly realized that they were sorely lacking. The levels of damage to which Reese was frequently exposed, were far greater than their simple medical connections and knowledge could handle. He'd barely survived that time.

Finch vowed to lay the groundwork for much better plans, covering a wider range of situations and possible needs. Of course having favors owed by some rather impressive doctors helped. Dr. Megan Tillman had pledged her unlimited aid, 'anytime, anywhere' and the prominent heart surgeon, Dr. Madeleine Enright, was 'only too happy' to offer her services after they'd saved her wife's life only a short time ago.

It was Dr. Tillman's number Finch called as he sped back toward the city. She was the closest to Carter.

Carter studied Reese, lost in the shallow rise and fall of his chest, when the intercom buzzer caused her to jump.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Tillman, a friend of John's. I'm here to help. How is he?"

"He's the same. Please come up." Carter buzzed her in, opening the front door to reveal a kind but determined middle-aged brunet carrying two large EMT bags slung over each shoulder. "I'm Detective Carter." She introduced herself, grabbing a bag and motioning her toward the couch.

"Dr. Megan Tillman." She said quickly making her way to John's side. "How long has been unconscious? When was he injured?" She asked as she methodically evaluated his vitals.

"He's been out about twenty minutes. And I'd say shot maybe an hour and a half to two hours ago?"

Removing the bandage, she probing around the wound causing Reese to stir with a low moan. "That's good, he's responding to the pain but it was too easy to start the bleeding again. The location suggests a less critical area, hopefully with limited damage. However I'm concerned with his heart rate and low blood pressure. Has it been bleeding like this the whole time?" Tillman pointed toward the door, "Can you bring the coat rack over here."

Carter stood the rack at the head of the couch. "Yes. The bleeding was pretty steady." The doctor quickly inserted an IV and began running a bag of blood along with another of clear fluids, hanging them from the rack.

Dr. Tillman sat back on her haunches and looked up at Carter with a soft, reassuring smile. "Once his vitals look better, I can remove the bullet. So you work with John?"

Carter was cautious with her answer not knowing how much Dr. Tillman actually knew of what he did. "From time to time, John calls for back up. How do you know him?"

A sad smile darkened Tillman's face and her eyes faded to a distant place. "John saved my life. Saved me from a bad situation and from a life of painful regret. He just understood, seemed to know exactly what I was going through. I figured he'd been there, you know?... and had made choices that he regretted." She sadly looked at John, "Have you noticed how haunted he eyes look?... Well, he saved me from his fate. I owe him more than I could ever repay."

'Not broken like me,' so that's what he meant. "Yeah, John's a special guy that way."

They settled into a comfortable silence until Carter's cell phone startled her. "Detective, I'm down stairs. How is he?"

Finch entered wearing a look of pained concern as he spotted Mr. Reese on the couch, bloody and so reminiscent of the last time. Quickly he pulled his mask of controlled formality back in place. "Thank you both. How is he?"

Satisfied with the answer he turned to Carter. "May we talk?" Carter nodded and led Finch toward the hallway.

"How much do you know about what's going on Detective?"

"John told me about the hit on Doctor Miller. He wants me to report Miller's death to stop the attacks and shake out the main player. He also mentioned plans? Saying 'it was all about the plans,' and he 'needed to move them to a secure location?' What's that all about?" Her fear was now turning to anger.

"I understand your frustration Detective, but as you see... the threat is very real so the less you know the better. It could easily spill in your direction if we involve you too much."

Now she was pissed, "Oh no, don't you dare. The way I see it, it's too late for that!" She snapped her arm in John's direction, "I'm involved and now you really need my help."

Finch stood up straighter contemplating his next move. Involving the Detective, though advantageous given this new development, would also put her at greater risk. He didn't think her being a cop would slow these killers down for a second if things went wrong. Still, Carter's backup, beyond the official statement, would be of great help when the next confrontation arose. "As you wish, Detective."

As Finch shared the details, Carter's eyes grew with the sheer magnitude of what she was being told. Putting a hand to her head, she took a step back, "Ok... wow..so where are Dr. Miller and the plans now?" The scope of this thing was way bigger than just one man, this was important to the world.

"Doctor Miller is secure at one of our most remote safe houses. For his protection, we also moved his wife, ruling out a leverage scenario. The plans are safe." Finch involuntarily touched his pocket.

Carter caught the movement. With a disbelieving jerk, she bent toward Finch, scolding him in a high pitched whisper, "You've got to be kidding me - in your pocket! That's what you call safe! Don't you have access to Fort Knox or something!?" She stood pacing a quick circle.

"That... Detective, is what we were working on when Mr. Reese didn't show. There wasn't time."

"Ok so when John mentioned a message he sent to set up a meeting, the meeting is to deliver the thumb drive to the perp. I wondered why the guy would agree to meet. "

Finch suddenly looked like he'd remembered something, " Do you have Mr. Reese's cell phones?"

"Phones? Would they be in his pockets l guess?"

They heard a groan from the living room and both rushed back.

Tillman answered their unspoken question. "He's ok. Is actually responding very well to the transfusion and his vitals are looking good. He was trying to come around so I just heavily sedated him. I need to keep him out so I can remove the bullet and repair any damage. You mind assisting?"

Finch looked at Carter with a flash of terror.

Resigned, she moved past him to Dr. Tillman's side. Carter held the screen while Tillman scoped the wound and searched for the bullet.

"Ah got it. The actual damage is minimal, his rib deflected the bullet just enough to avoid any major organs. But the bone shard nicked a blood vessel responsible for the excessive bleeding. All in all, I'd say he lucked out. Again."

It took another hour before Tillman was finished working on Reese. By then Carter felt positively green and barely registered the sound of Megan's pager going off. "Oh, I have another emergency call. Can you handle this?"

"Yeah. Yes, I've got some medical training." Carter tried to sound convincing.

"Ok, run one more bag when this one runs out. He should be out well into tomorrow but check his vitals often and make sure he stays down with lots of rest - at least a few days knowing him, a week would be better. Give him one of these pills for five days and have him take these for pain." Packing her bags, she paused at the door, "Watch for infection. If he gets a fever call me. And...good luck, I know this won't be easy."

Carter frowned questioningly at that, looking at Reese then Finch. She thought he was out of the woods.

Quickly interpreting her look, Tillman grinned. "No, he's fine Detective. But having nursed Reese back from his last injuries, the hard part is yet to come."

Finch finished in a matter of fact tone, "Mr. Reese and rest are... let's just say, like oil and water."

"Finch, I should really head down to the station and release the statement about Miller."

"In light of the situation, I believe it might be best to wait until morning. Dr. Miller and the plans are safe for the moment. Perhaps you should get some rest yourself. I can watch him." Finch's slightly crocked smile convinced her to hesitantly settle in the couch across from John.

A few minutes of silence stretched on until Carter could no longer contain her burning question. "How do you guys do what you do? I mean why? The costs are so high."

Blindsided, Finch contemplated how to best and simply, answer such a complex question. "I think for me, I am trying to fill a need, over looked by our system, a need that no one knows or cares about." What to say for Mr. Reese? "For Mr. Reese I believe he feels it's his penance."

Carter was surprised that he'd answered, let alone with such sincerity and measurable depth. She decided to press her luck and fish for more. "So how do you get your information?"

He know it was coming, figured it would have been her opening question. "I'm afraid, Detective, that is not something I can share."

"Why not? Are you protecting a confidential informant? A secret government agency? A psychic?" She knew the last one was dumb but she was pissed he still wouldn't share the source, yet continued to expect her help.

"Believe me when I say," He chose he words carefully, "that it's for your protection that we can't tell you."

She put her hands up in mock surrender then snuggled under a fuzzy throw. "Ok, night Finch." She had to try...

It was now well into the early morning hours, around two, he'd guess by his dry eyes and the stiffness of his body despite the comfortable lounge chair. He'd been working on his laptop, keeping vigil over both John and Carter. She, having long since fallen into an exhausted sleep, while John's increasing signs of torment began concerning him. He hoped it wasn't so much any pain as Reese fighting the sedatives he'd been given. He knew John hated drugs, for him they were no different than the physical bonds of capture, to be fought and escaped. He would invariably be angry they were used, but there had been no alternative.

Finch again checked the phone Reese had taken from the hit man. No response to the message so he went back to his laptop. He hacked into the wet works website, breaking into the user accounts to see if anything turned up. So far there were just layers upon layers of false identities and dead ends. But that didn't deter him from infecting all the major sites with his malware. He designed the program to search for the user name they now had and to act as a tracking tool. When "the_mambo666" logged in again, it would lead them to the source.

Finch sent a text to his body guard, instructing him to warn Dr. Miller that he would soon, strategically, be pronounced dead. It wasn't ideal, but simple logic and lack of time dictated extreme measures.

The conversation Finch had yet to have was with Miller regarding the release of his work. Until he made it public he would never truly be safe from the next greedy criminal. He would of course still receive the fame of his achievement but the discovery would spread like wild fire across the globe. Finch hoped Miller could be content knowing that he would go down in history as the father of the greatest discovery since electricity itself and know that he was responsible for saving countless lives around the world: warmth, heat, and energy, equally for everyone.

A chime on his computer pulled Finch from his thoughts. Their perp had just logged into one of the sites triggering his spyware. A broad grin of satisfaction played across his face, "Away you go," he coaxed his program, "tell us where he is..." It would only be a matter of time before he was led to its origination.

A hoarse whisper startled Finch. "You know it's not really alive right Harold?" Reese had to focus on his words, his head felt thick and slow.

Finch knelt closer to John, surprised at how soon he'd woken... even for him. "Were that it was only that simple Mr. Reese. How are you feeling?"

"Like I forgot to pull the ripcord..." He followed the IV line coming from his arm up to the hanging bags with a questioning scowl.

"Dr. Tillman. You lost a lot of blood." Finch offered.

Reese winced as he reached too quickly for his pocket. "The phone?"

"I have it." Reassuringly placing a hand on Reese's shoulder, to halt his search. "He hasn't sent instructions yet. I told Carter to wait until the morning to release anything on Miller. You need to use the time rest. "

Jaw clenched in concentration, Reese began to awkwardly and unsuccessfully sit up.

"Mr. Reese you shouldn't be moving around yet. Dr. Tillman said..." But he quickly aided John's struggle, helping to prop him up anyway.

Reese shook his head, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. "Miller's plans? Sorry Finch, I messed up." Panting, he lay his head back, eyes closing of their own accord. "What.. ti.. time is it?" But he lost his battle to stay awake and faded off.

"You didn't mess up John. You never do." Finch reassuring whispered, "Rest now, then get the bad guys." He pulled the covers back over John, thankful for the drugs.

Carter jolted awake from the nightmare, sitting bolt upright, eyes wide and searching for Reese.

"He's just fine, Detective." Finch whispered. "In fact he was awake a couple hours ago."

Smiling she rubbed her eyes, "You get anything?" Noticing the glow of the computer in his lap.

"I may have. The trace program has been activated. So far it's been routed around half a dozen clever shadow addresses. It's just a matter of time."

Staring at Reese, "You think he'll be up to it? Maybe we should bring Fusco in on this?"

But Finch already knew holding Reese back would be an impossibility. "No Detective, something tells me he'll be quite ready. By the way, I took the liberty of outlining the statement for you."

"Thanks, you wanna go to work and deliver it for me too?" Carter said in mock annoyance, but in all honesty, her aching head was relieved to have one less thing to think about. "Thanks. I'll go get ready."

Thirty minutes of hot steamy paradise breathed new life into Carter's tired body. It was going to be a long day, so taking the extra time didn't make her feel guilty at all.

"Ok, I'm out'a here." She whispered, gathering her gun and badge. "Call me if something comes up or he gets up. Otherwise I'll be home soon as I can. Why don't you try to get some sleep, doesn't look like you got any..." But her suggestion fell upon already nodding ears.

With a smile and last glance, she headed out. She hoped today would be better than yesterday for John, but she knew this wasn't over by a long shot.

John's heart raced as he clawed his way through the webs of a drug induced sleep. There were things, important things he needed to do…Important people…the meeting...! The fog was lifting as his eyes cracked open. He looked at this watch. Three in the afternoon, dammit! With a stifled groan he tested his injuries. Sitting hurt; but he was sick and tired of being sick and tired. He noticed Finch fast asleep and made every effort to keep any grunts to himself as he weakly stood. The world tried to spin out from under him with his first attempt, but with the arm of the couch and some steadying breaths, things slowed enough so that he could make his way to the bathroom.

Finch woke to rummaging sounds in the kitchen and an empty couch. Panic drove him up, faster than his sore body should have. "Mr. Reese, is that you?" He limped to the kitchen massaging his neck.

"Sorry Finch, didn't mean to wake you. Hungry?" Reese held out a sandwich as a apology.

"You really should be resting while you can."

"I'll rest later." He was starved, unable to remember eating yesterday at all and just wanted to get back to work. Between the painkillers and the replaced fluids he actually felt decent. "How's Miller? Where's the thumb drive? And any luck tracing our perp?"

Finch grumpily held up a hand. "Yes, yes, slow down Mr. Reese. I received a text that Dr. Miller is fine. The thumb drive is safe, no one knows I have it. And I can't believe you remembered about the trace program... as 'out of it' as you were. How are you this morning." Finch marveled at how well Reese could function under duress; he, on the other hand, could barely function after awkwardly sleeping in a chair.

"I'm fine... would really like to catch this guy."

But all was not perfect fine. Finch didn't miss how painfully John shrugged into his coat. "Are you sure you feel up to this Mr. Reese? Detective Carter suggested we use Fusco; I might be inclined to agree."

Frustration peeked from beneath his practiced coolness, "Just thinking about putting the fate of the world in Fusco's hands is incentive enough. I'll be fine. Let me know as soon as you receive instructions from our guy."

"And where will you be Mr. Reese?"

"Shopping... in my closet." And Reese was gone.

Finch had had the disturbing experience of hiding in his closet at one point, a closet that was packed full of an unusual and uncomfortable décor… a HIGHLY uncomfortable decor.

It was good to be home. Reese had always needed some solitude to recharge his batteries. And he was pretty sure it had been forever since he was clean and comfortable, he'd be damned if he was going through another minute looking like he felt. After quickly wrapping water proof tape over his bandage he climbed into his pre-heating shower. He leaned his head against his hands on the wall, allowing the hot water to massage his battered shoulders, slide down his bruised ribs and envelope his whole body in soothing stream. All things considered, between the smoke, car crash and getting shot, he felt pretty good - though the exertion was making him a bit light headed. Coffee, he needed coffee.

Muscles adequately melted in the very lengthy shower, he re-bandaged his wound, dressed and determinedly set to work. While in the shower, he'd received a message from Finch. The meet was on for tonight, midnight at the docks.

Coffee in hand, John admiringly stood before his opened closet, wearing a look of deep appreciation and pride. Spanning three walls were guns and weapons of every type and purpose. He vowed he wouldn't be caught at a disadvantage this time. Grabbing his tactical bag, he began packing it, pausing only to answer his ringing phone. "Evening, Detective."

"Buzz me up John. I'm outside your building."

Damn. She sounded pissed. Finch must have given her his address, meaning he agreed with her. Just what he needed... Reese covered the distance to his front door with improved strength and maybe a hint of his big cat swagger. "Detective Carter, come in."

As soon as the door opened Carter moved past him then turned to him, hands on her hips in a chastising stance.. "Imagine my surprise when I get home and find you've gone crusading. Are you crazy? Oh wait, yeah think we established that yesterday... What do you think you're doing?"

"Ah? Having coffee?" He knew there wasn't a right answer so he played the innocent card. And he just loved the irritated pinch of her lips when he pushed her buttons.

"Uh huh... No. You should be resting." Carter huffed passed into John's apartment, but her angry rant quickly abated to impressed awe. "Wow, the vigilante business pays pretty well."

"It was a gift from Finch."

Carter meandered in a bit farther, abruptly stopping as her eyes widened, locked disbelievingly on his opened walk-in closet. "You know, you're not quite normal, right?"

"That hurts, Carter." John hid the grin at her mocking insult as he returned to his packing. "So how did it go?"

"Just fine. Wasn't too hard to make up evidence of a third body, burned, but with ID establishing his identity. So you hear anything about the meet?"

"Just now. It's set for tonight."

"Ok, so what's the plan?"

Reese gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"Didn't Finch tell you...I'm coming with you."

All teasing forgotten, John became serious. "Carter I'm not sure what I might be walking into. No way I'm going to put you at risk more than I already have."

"So you're going to stand there... wearing this obvious mask of forced bravado... and tell me you can handle things if they go badly? John, I'm serious. You shouldn't do it alone. Not this time."

"Carter..." But she cut him off.

"You got a head injury I don't know about! Because this is the second time I've been there to watch you almost bleed to death. God knows how many other times there've been when I wasn't, when no one was. But you're not alone anymore. You've got back up. And I can handle myself, so get over it and fill me in."

He knew better than to say anything when she was like this and honestly she was right - in part. He'd come to rely on her more than he'd ever intended. In so many ways... But it was hard, knowingly put someone he cared about in harm's way. Especially her.

"Mr. Reese where are you? Is Detective Carter there? "

"Yes, we're on the way. You should have told me the plan changed." He sing song-ed in controlled irritation.

"If you mean Detective Carter, well as you well know she can be very persistent. She assured me in no uncertain terms that she was 'already involved.' And I ultimately agree, you could use the assistance."

Reese deflated in surrender, "Fine. What do you have Finch?"

"Put me on speaker... I've found something. I ran a search cross checking energy companies and any correlation with the evidence we already have. Only one name cross checked with Dr. Miller multiple times. Devlin Steal. He's heavily invested in Synergy Power Corp stock."

"Miller's financial accountant? But that's not strange Finch, maybe he invested in power companies and that's why Miller used him, or he invested because of Miller's work."

"I thought that too until I saw the timing of his purchases."

"Regardless, wasn't he killed in the blast?"

"I believe that's what we are meant to believe. I'm looking at his financials right now. Steal owns half a million shares of Synergy stock, to the tune of $35.9 million dollars. And I would be inclined to agree with you if it weren't for the fact that 300k more shares were purchased just this afternoon. Unless he is orchestrating his investments from beyond the grave...he's alive and has motive."

"So, he kills Miller, sells the plans to Synergy for an insane amount, his stock sky rockets... seems like a win-win situation. Miller said Steal was the only other person that knew the details of his plans. Faking his death would draw any suspicion away from him."

"The only thing I can't tie him to is the hit. The user name hasn't linked back to him."

"So you think there's another player?"

"Until I prove otherwise, we should assume so. You both need to be careful. And Mr. Reese, Steal has no intention of leaving any loose ends once he has the plans."

"Neither do we. We're pulling up to the docks now. Looks like one car, three guards. Our guy's still inside."

Reese slowed. At the mouth of the dock yard, they were approximately three hundred yards from where the meeting was to take place. Towering rows of shipping containers would offer Carter a good vantage point. But tactically, it was a bad setup for him, with stacks of wooden crates running along the river side of the dock and end to end forty foot containers along the other. He could easily be boxed in and was at a disadvantage being on the lower-ground end of things. He would have to rely heavily on Carter.

"Sweep the high ground for snipers, then try to make it to a four o'clock position. Keep the link open and wait for my signal. And be careful Detective."

"Copy, you too John." She exited, gun bag slung over her shoulder. "Don't do anything stupid. Ok?"

It was strangely easy, just how quickly she fell back into her field training. In the army, interrogation had been her specialty but marksmanship had been her gift.

Reese slowly pulled up, parking about thirty feet behind the other car. Smoothly he exited, offering no aggressive body language to provoke the three steroid enhanced goons chomping at the bit. He waited until a tall, wiry man, wearing a three thousand dollar suit, emerged from the limo. Commandingly standing between his body guards and Reese, was a very alive Devlin Steal.

"You have it?" His voice dripped with the cocky smugness of someone who thought he'd gotten away with murder and all the treasure. He'd find out just how wrong he was.

John put both hands up as he slowly reached into the breast pocket of his suit, withdrawing a flash drive. "I have it, now where's my money?"

"You'll get it. AFTER I verify the content." Turning to the thug on his left, "Get it."

The muscle bound thug walked forward, gun drawn and hand out. Reese held out the drive, but just as the thug reached for it, John dropped it. He knew every eye would be following the falling drive.

With a viper's quickness, Reese grabbed the thug's still out-stretched gun hand, yanking and spinning him around, using him as a shield while firing at the knee caps of the second thug. The random thought that Carter would appreciate his restraint flashed through his mind until he felt two bullets impact the thug he was using as a shield.

He dropped with the body, lunging into a diving roll to take cover behind the limo. A ripping pain gripped his side as he came up to return fire at the remaining guard and Steal.

Telltale pops of a high-powered rifle echoed through the yard as Carter undoubtedly took down a sniper. Reese was pinned behind the car, hearing Steal yelling over the gunfire to take him out.

"Carter, close your eyes!" He tossed a flash bang grenade, hoping Carter was not scoping with both eyes at that moment. The confused thug screamed, covering his eyes just as he was blasted backwards over the hood by a high velocity bullet – That's my girl! Reese smiled.

"Reese, I lost Steal. I think he managed to duck into the crates in front of the limo." Carter's voice crackled in his ear.

Reese stood, heading after Steal, but as he passed the car he was viciously tackled from behind. A fourth man, Steal's driver, had been lying in wait. The driver rammed his shoulder low into Reese's back sending both men to the wet pavement and Reese's gun skittering across the dock. John did his best to ignore his searing injuries and carried the momentum through, rolling and launching the thug off him by a thrust of his legs.

The driver leveled his gun as Reese staggered to his feet, never expecting the lightening fast punch that jarred the gun from his hand. A barrage of punches followed, leaving them both winded.

The guys was good, Reese thought, a highly skilled fighter, ex-military for sure. Reese knew he needed to end this quickly, knowing Carter couldn't take the shot with him in the way and he couldn't last much longer with his injuries.

Again the thug attacked, this time with an unending series of rapidly executed kicks that had Reese back peddling towards the dock's edge. He ducked a high roundhouse, sweeping his leg out and catching the thug in the knee with a sickening snap. A furious scream filled the air as the man stumbled back, hopping to regain his balance to draw two large throwing knives. "Are you kidding me?" This would have been comical if he'd had his gun. "Carter, could use a little help right about now!"

The plan had been for her to wait until the exchange happened and she got a signal from John, but as was usual when working with him, the shit hit the fan fast. She had taken out a sniper east of their position, then one of the guards gunning for John. Steal must have used that moment to vanish into the crates along the dock's end and John was heading after him. That's when she saw the guy came out of nowhere and take John down.

Carter watched from her vantage point, waiting for a clear shot. The man and John were too closely engaged for her to get off a clean shot. Her heart was pounding watching the fight, a blur of clashing fists and kicks. John was slowing down, back peddling more and more. Suddenly he froze. She sucked in a breath, "Knives? Oh I don't think so!" Carter mumbled as she lined him up in her sights. She exhaled just as she heard John's voice ask for help and her shot rang out.

"Thanks Carter, owe you one."

"You owe me three." She snickered. "You ok?"

"Yeah. I'm going after Steal. He couldn't have gotten far... nowhere to go." Bending, he picked up his gun and disappeared into the maze of crates.

"No, wait for me!" Carter shouted desperately.

Carter hurriedly made her way off the container and headed toward Reese. She saw a fleeting glimpse of him just as he disappeared into the stacks. Dammit! She pushed into a quick jog. "Finch. I'm assuming you're listening?"

"Yes Detective I'm here."

"Your boy's gone rogue again."

Reese soundlessly moved along the crate's edge, surveying above and around each corner as he proceeded to stalk his prey. There was simply nowhere for Steal to have gone. He has to be here.

As if to prove his point, he felt the hard muzzle of a gun pressed into his back just as Steal walked out from a concealed slit in a crate. "That's far enough! Throw you gun down and turn around."

"You really don't want to do this, Devlin." Reese stated in his cool raspy whisper as he tossed his gun.

Momentarily stunned Steal blurted, "How do you know my name! Who are you?"

"I know everything about you. About how you put a contract out on Miller and faked your death to get the energy reactor plans intending to sell them and drive up your stock. Oh and, by the way, both Miller and the plans are safe." Reese evilly smirked.

Devlin stood shocked, just staring at the flash drive clutched in his hand until a psychotic laugh cracked the silence. "You think you know everything! You have NO idea what you've done or the evil you are dealing with! It was a perfect plan and I almost made it! And now you've unleashed the Devil itself! We're all dead!"

Arms flailing, Steal began to wildly pace back and forth. Reese slowly turned around, closing the distance between Steal's waving gun and himself. "I - was - almost - free! You bastard!" And he squeezed the trigger.

"Mr. Reese? Detective I've lost contract with Mr. Reese. Do you see him?"

Carter moved quickly to the point where Reese had entered the maze of crates. She heard a shrill and agitated voice filtering through the stacks.

She whispered to Finch, "By the sounds it, I'm getting close – things are escalating fast." Increasing her pace, her adrenaline spiked as the cracking of gunfire whipped through the labyrinth. She ran full out, afraid of what she would find.

On the line, listening intently, Finch held his breath in wait...

Carter rounded the last corner, met with a very deranged Steal standing over Reese, gun pointed.

"NYPD drop the gun!"

Carter heard Steal wickedly snarl, "Never!" and he turned his gun on her, finger flexing. Two gunshots simultaneously discharged. Carter stood frozen, waiting for pain that never came as she watched Steal unceremoniously crumple to the ground. She hadn't fired.

Hurriedly she kicked Steal's gun away from him, heading to where Reese still lay against a crate. Holstering her weapon, "Reese! John... you ok?" She noticed him holding his still smoking gun. "Thanks."

"No problem..." He coughed with a groan as he pushed up. "Ok maybe a little problem."

Panicked. "You ok?"

"No he got my vest. I'm flattered at your concern... Detective,... but I'm still ticking." He reached for his vest undoing the straps to breathe easier.

He noticed Carter staring at him, her delicate features pulled in fear. Fear, he realized, for him. Ignoring the discomfort, he casually got up. "Though I can't say the same for my phone." He tried lightening her mood, by peering through the hole in the middle of it.

Reese was honestly relieved to slide down into the passenger seat. It had been a physically grueling couple of days. "Carter. Can I barrow your phone?" he asked as she handed it to him. "Finch, I think I'm ready for that vacation now."

"Well you're in luck then, Mr. Reese. How do you feel about New Orleans?"

John shared a suspicious look with Carter and put the phone on speaker.

Doubting the question's true intent, he hesitantly responded. "New Orleans? Been a few times... Nice place Harold... But why do I get the feeling you don't actually mean for R&R?"

"Apologies Mr. Reese, you are correct. Just before Devlin Steal invested in the Synergy stock he received a rather large deposit in his offshore account. I managed to trace it to a New Orleans based, privately traded, oil and gas company - Elite Power. That alone didn't mean anything until my trace program linked our mystery user's name to an IP address at the same company.

And I'm afraid it gets more worrisome. The name registered to that account is Vic Mambo, the suspected leader of a heinous underground syndicate. His organization is known for it's brutality and voodoo style ritual killings. When I hacked into the company's database, I found layer upon layer of falsified information, non-existent shareholders and ghost companies. I believe the whole company is just a front for this organization. If you feel up to it Mr. Reese, I believe we've found our true puppet master."

"Steal did said some strange things that make more sense now. He said we "didn't know the evil we were dealing with and that we'd unleashed the Devil itself.' Maybe the evil of a Voodoo cult leader, you think?"

"I'm not so sure about any supernatural implications but in the literal sense, I would have to agree."

"Well, no rest for the wicked I guess. On my way."

"I'm going with you." A protesting look blanketed Reese's worn face but before he could say anything Carter went on. "You're in no shape to take on more heavy hitters by yourself and I spent a lot of time in New Orleans. Might come handy."

Reese gave her an inquisitive look, Carter in New Orleans?

"Yeah, don't give me that look. I had family there."

"I'll see that your Captain approves your leave of absence." Finch added.

Trumped twice. John was rather surprised that Finch so easily accepted Carter's involvement...until recently he'd always been so reserved when it came to involving her too closely.

Reese didn't have any fight left in him, so leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes. "Better add a talisman or two to your arsenal, Carter."

Carter just rolled her eyes. Life was never dull when is came to John Reese.

TBC (This was my first fic - love to hear you're reviews!)

part two - "Twisted" coming soon...