AN: I have been writing this story since about December of last year off and on, just bits and pieces here and there because it was my therapy after Carter was killed. It wasn't ever going to be posted since it wasn't really flushed out, and didn't really hold much plot other than rewriting what the show did which was namely killing off my badass, fucking a-mazing, beautiful, intelligent, and vulnerable Carter. And ripping Reese's heart right out of his freaking chest just as he was healing and actually trying to move on. Talk about drop kicking character growth right out the window, Reese went back several million steps, and isn't himself since. Poor guy! So in this I rewrote from 3x10 on with a slight tweak to 3x09 which is namely the bullet's position in her chest. The story is all Carter and Reese, all the episode plot points for this story is for the sole purpose to push forward Reese and Carter's story. That's it. I'll try to tell you which episodes is in which chapter, I know some Careesers have quit watching the show, and I can understand why. I haven't stopped watching the show mainly because I watch for Reese...I can't quit my Jim he's an addiction, but I fully support my fellow Carter and Careeser fans who have quit! I love you all and I hope my therapy story for me, can help you guys too!

Disclaimer: I own nothing, absolutely zilch of Person of Interest, the characters, or anything recognizable. I just enjoy taking them out here and there :D

In this chapter it touches on The Devil's Share 3x10. And for a minor heads up there is going to be a lot of line-bars because it's going to move from different people's pov, and different times of the episode, so line-bars were my friend in this. I thank Elaine for proofing this for me since I wanted to post this in November in spirit of Carter's character! Long live Carter and Careese forever and ever! Enjoy!

It felt like he was moving under water. He had patiently waited until Finch had gotten to his feet and left. He didn't know where Finch was going, didn't care. John opened his eyes; his body ached, but nothing like his heart. What happened to Joss? Was she alive? Was she dead? He remembered her in his arms and he had become distraught when he thought she wasn't breathing. But Finch had forced him from her when officers came out...no, there was no way she could have survived.

Simmons took her from him.

John grabbed the IV in his right hand, yanking it out, and an ache ebbed from there which was ignored. He struggled to sit up, he felt the pulling and tearing at his gunshot wounds. He didn't care about his physical pain. All he cared about was finding Simmons. Simmons took Joss from him and he was going to make that man suffer. Tears blurred his vision as he stumbled to his feet, bumping into things, and he shoved himself away from them. The sound of things crashing to the floor was the only noise besides his harsh breathing in the otherwise quiet apartment. Bear watched him with eyes wiser than a mere animal's.

He staggered to a closet that held a change of clothes not just for him, but for Finch and Shaw as well. John slowly and painfully pulled his man-in-the-suit attire on, trembling with barely suppressed anguish and fury. He lost Joss, he just knew it…he lost her, and he felt like he was suffocating in his agony. John heard a sound…was it him? It couldn't have been him, it sounded like a strangled sob.

Simmons took her from him.

He swayed as exited the bedroom as he moved towards the front door of the safe-house he stumbled, bumped into the sofa chair as he stared at the brown door, nearly toppling over with it as it crashed to the floor. John paused in his desperate pursuit of the exit, trying to work the drugs that were in system out. He had to find Simmons, he had to make him pay. Once the room stopped spinning, John finally managed his way to the front door; he found his gun and jacket both near the door and grabbed them. There was only one way today was ending….with the man that took Joss from him, dead.

Finch arrived at Manhattan General a good fifteen to twenty minutes after leaving John's bedside when he felt sure his friend was asleep for the morning. Harold hadn't wanted to leave John alone, but Ms. Shaw hadn't shown up at the specified time, and he truly wanted to go make a visit with Jocelyn. Fusco was already there by Jocelyn's side, and sadly there wasn't any sign of Shaw as he had been hoping. Unfortunately it seemed Shaw was unreachable, and it left him uneasy.

"How is she?" Finch asked quietly as he entered the detective's private hospital room. He had paid for the best team of doctors, for the best room, and best care she could get. He was going to do everything he could to save Jocelyn Carter's life. She was a dear friend of his, Fusco's, and Ms. Shaw's, and she meant the world to Mr. Reese.

"Touch and go," Fusco responded gruffly. "She's still on life support but her vitals have been steady, doctors gave her a 50/50 split of surviving. They said the next 72 hours are the most critical, if she can pull through, there is a high likelihood she'll make it. The bullet did a lot of internal damage, almost nicked her heart. Had the angle of the bullet been any different, we would be burying her rather than praying she will pull through."

"Joss is a fighter." Finch quietly sat down across from the detective, with Joss between them, and he gently took Joss's limp hand before bowing his head.

"Yeah she is, so is her kid. He's been here since they brought her in the other night; Paul has been trying to reassure him that Carter had been through worse. Taylor said his mom will be fine because his mom doesn't let anyone dictate to her, and she sure the hell wasn't going to let some dirty cop dictate to her when she was going to die," Fusco said while Finch lifted his head as they shared a smile.

"He's a wise young man."

"Yeah," Fusco nodded his head. "How's our other wounded amigo?" Finch could see and hear the worry in the other man's face and voice. Lionel Fusco might enjoy calling John the bane of his existence, but clearly Lionel valued John in his life.

"His injuries aren't as severe as Jocelyn's but can be life threatening if he reopens the wounds that Dr. Tillman sutured. Mr. Reese has been heavily medicated to make sure his body heals."

"And so he won't go looking for revenge," Fusco supplied.

"Something like that," Finch admitted. Shaw and he had both decided to sedate Mr. Reese nearly to the point of over-medicating him. He had been worried that if Jocelyn didn't both through, John would do something that could end up getting himself killed. "I was wondering, detective, have you seen Ms. Shaw?" Finch asked quietly.

"No why?" Fusco sighed.

"She hasn't been answering her phone, she never showed up this morning to sit with John so I could come visit Jocelyn. I left Mr. Reese unattended."

"You sure that was a good idea, glasses, because I don't think our boy knows that Carter is in the hospital fighting for her life."

"John is medicated." Finch assured making Fusco nod his head curtly.

"Well I've been here for hours, we have round the clock police protection on her, just in case Simmons comes back to finish her off. Little Rambo hasn't been here since I got here."

"I see," Finch responded a bit concerned. He eyed his phone when a beep happened. He lifted his phone seeing that the silent alarm was set off at the safe-house. His eyes grew big. "I have to go."

"Everything alright?" Fusco watched his four eyed friend who looked panicked about something on his phone.

"I'm not sure, but, I need to check it out Detective." Finch said as he quickly stood up. But before he left he needed to ask of the detective something. "If she awakens, or if there is any change in her condition, please call me immediately."

"Of course," Fusco agreed without adding 'Einstein' or 'glasses' this wasn't the time to be glib or wisecracking. The elder man turned, limping hurriedly out of the room, and he wondered what had that man that upset. "Hey Carter you better wake up soon because I have a feeling World War III is about to erupt with our friends and Simmons." Fusco whispered having a really bad feeling.

Finch arrived at the safe house, the beep he received from the phone was an alert that the safe-house door had opened without the silent alarm being turned off. That feature was John's idea just in case they had a number who didn't want to stay-put, they would trip the alarm which would send them all a text, and they could use the GPS tracker they placed on the number to go grab them again. But this time Finch was praying it was just Ms. Shaw having forgotten they set the silent alarm to make sure John didn't leave without their knowledge.

"Ms. Shaw," he called out as he entered. Finch, paused as he took in the apartment's state of duress. The sofa chair was toppled over, things littered the floor. "JOHN!" he called, panicked as he limped hurriedly, almost to the point of dragging his leg to the back bedroom where John had been. He stopped short as he entered the room John had been. The IV was on the bed which was empty, a rolling tray with medical supplies was knocked over. Medical supplies were quite literally strewn about the floor. John's clothing he had been wearing was marring the floor, the closet door wide open. Finch, whirled around rushing away. He noticed now that John's jacket was gone, as was his gun. Both had been near the door, his jacket hung up, and the gun on the table right beside the entrance.

Finch's phone rang he prayed it was John calling. He eyed it, seeing it was Detective Fusco, and immediately answered it. "Yes, detective, is Jocelyn alright?"

"She's holding her own, but that's not why I'm calling you, we have a big problem, you need to head to this address." Finch heard the worry in the man's voice.

"Where too detective?" He questioned and listened as Fusco gave him directions. When he hung up, Finch gave the safe house one last panicked sweeping glance, before he hurried out.

Fusco had left his partner's side when he had gone to his car to make some phone calls to the precinct, he had heard a disturbing call over the radio, and had quickly answered the radio call to go check it out. He made a quick call to glasses before heading to the scene.

Fusco waited until he saw his friend hobbling over, to leave the scene. Finch was eyeing the burnt out wreck of a car, with a sad look. Fusco moved over to him. "I heard the call on the radio while I was making some calls in my car. I left Carter when I heard who witnesses placed at the scene of the crime. Someone t-boned them, then interrogated them while their car burned. Guys in front might make it, the guy in the back might make a good bag of charcoal. Witnesses put our pal the psychopathic vigilante at the scene." He murmured as they walked side by side. Finch paused turning back to the eye the wreckage, before looking back at him.

"Which one?" he asked softly.

"You mean both of your stray dogs are off the leash?" Fusco demanded, when Finch just stared at him, he softened a bit. "This was the handiwork of tall, dark, and deranged and I shudder to think what the other is up to. I thought you said he was heavily medicated."

"I have reason to believe one or both of them are looking to track down and kill Simmons." Finch offered, he had received Simmons' number on his way back to the safe-house after his short visit with Jocelyn. The machine had skipped the façade, rather just giving him Simmons' name, which was a first.

"We all want Simmons. The piece of crap shot and nearly killed my partner, and went after my kid. But the scorched Earth campaign is only going to make Simmons harder to find, not easier."

Finch turned to eye the wreckage once more. Maybe if he knew who John had attacked it might make it easier to find his missing and injured friend. John needed to know Jocelyn had a chance at surviving, maybe if he knew Joss might pull through they could stop him before something terrible happened. "Who were they?"

"Dirt-bags of the highest order; ran drugs, underage hookers, and a lot of paper."

"Paper?"

"Yeah, counterfeit bills, , passports for a forger named Yorke." Fusco murmured. Finch stood for a minute. Why would John go after them, maybe, this forger was contacted by Simmons and had these men make an I.D. or something for Simmons.

"We better find Mr. Yorke." Finch said quietly before they left the wreckage.

"And how do you presume we are going to do that, glasses?" he asked as they walked to Finch's car. "He's not that easy to find, and the men that might know where he was are already burnt to a crisp."

"Because as I said, detective, I have reason to believe not one but both of my friends are in search of Officer Simmons, so I'm going to try to track down Ms. Shaw. Her phone is on, John is without one." Finch explained as he opened the car door, after handing Fusco the keys. There was a good chance that Ms. Shaw might have gotten similar intel and might be looking for Yorke herself. Fusco muttered something under his breath, but, Finch was busy pulling up Ms. Shaw's location using her GPS on her phone. "I know where she is, detective, hurry." Fusco sped away from the curb without further insistence.

The officer at Jocelyn's door was paged at the clerk's desk, he eyed the distance between the desk and the door to Carter's room he was protecting, and when he determined it wasn't that far that nobody could enter without his knowledge he took the phone call. While the officer's back was to the door, two men slipped into the room, unnoticed.

"Boss, should we hijack her out of here, we can get her quality care." Marconi asked. He didn't want anything to happen to his favorite detective.

"No, she's safe here; my former chess partner is taking care of her hospitalization. I was just coming to inspect her prognosis." Elias said quietly as he picked up Carter's chart. His friend eyed her, softly.

"Simmons is dead." Marconi guaranteed.

"Yes, he is, I fathom John is searching for him as we speak. However if he cannot do what needs to be done, we will." Elias looked through her chart. "It appears our favorite detective has a 50/50 chance at survival, her vitals have been sustained, and if she can get through these next few hours her chances of survival will go up. Come along, Tony, we must go now." Elias said quietly pressing a hand to Jocelyn's limp one. Marconi gave Joss one long look, before following his boss and friend out of her room, undetected.

The officer hung up the phone, moved to look in on her room, when satisfied Carter was alright and undisturbed, he closed the door and stood in front of the door once more.

He was close. Quinn was at this hotel in Queens, he had already lured several Federal Marshals away from the door with the car bomb, locked them out, and took care of the one at the front entrance and the owner of the hotel. John picked up his duffel bag full of flares, and a makeshift bomb before slowly making his way forward. He knew he had torn open his stitches after he had met with Yorke, it didn't matter if he bled out. He could bleed out after he killed Quinn and Simmons. He didn't want to live anyways, he couldn't live without Joss. John found the electrical box, opened the gray metal door, and cut the power.

He forced his body to move towards the stairwell, climbing the stairs knowing Quinn was on the third floor, and knew exactly what room number. Quinn's dirty defense lawyer had been easy to intimidate to get the information he wanted and nothing was going to stop him now.

If he figured correctly there would be a few teams of Federal Marshals strewn about the third floor, and second floor respectively. He quickly climbed the stairs, ignoring his pain, and found room number 215. He opened the duffel bag before quickly rigging the bomb with ease and precision. It was like going home, instinct taking over. He attached the bomb to the ceiling, before making sure the flares he needed to take away the Marshals use of night-vision goggles were all there. John picked the bag up, moaning softly as the pain in his side grew and more blood seeped out of his wound.

Joss was dead….

And his pain vanished, replaced with an emptiness that was growing at a rapid rate. John tugged his jacket around him tighter before he moved to the door, leaving the room. He moved up stairs to the third floor. He had to do this quickly. He exited the stairwell, seeing nobody out in the halls yet. He placed the flares in the middle of the floor, hearing talking, and he quickly hid himself back into the stairwell to lie in wait. John listened to his ragged breathing, male voices approaching down the hall, and he dropped the empty duffel bag on the floor.

"In three, two, one…" a man counted down and John rolled his eyes not waiting for the Marshals to open the door, quickly kicking the door open, and taking them on using their surprise to his advantage. They were probably geared up to take on the Russians not a man like him. He entered the hallway seeing one of the Marshals eyeing the flares. John, pulled his gun out, aimed, and fired on the flares setting one off, and then all of them went off. Cries from the Marshals as they were blinded, filled the corridor. Now was his chance to get to Quinn….so he could find and kill Simmons for taking Joss from him.

He made as quick work of the Marshals as he could, ducking as they randomly fired, hitting them to knock them out cold. He had only a few minutes before the other team would be coming up to help them out. Once he had taken down the last Marshal in front of him, he pulled out the detonator, and detonated the small bomb just as the door to the stairwell opened and men tried to come after him. John staggered forward, finding the team leader with a shotgun ready, motioning to the man he was protecting to come with him, obviously thinking it was clear. John pulled his gun out, put it to his head. "Sorry, but I need a word with the man you're protecting." John said hoarsely, taking the shotgun from him. The tall man held his hands up reluctantly.

"You just attacked a dozen Marshals, sorry is not going to cut it."

"They'll need some aspirin, maybe a little physical therapy, move." John assured as he pushed the man back into the room he had been trying to leave with Quinn. He pushed him down onto his knees. "You'll need to sit this one out." John eyed Quinn, not feeling anything as he knocked the man out cold. He motioned with the shotgun to get him to move. Quinn sat down in the corner, watchful of him as he put down the shotgun. He was afraid if he didn't, he would empty the shotgun chamber into this man before he got Simmons' exit.

John worked his throat, he was so close now. He took out a pad of paper and a pen, staining it slightly with a little smudge of blood, before moving close to Quinn, and dropped it front of him on a small table. "I want Simmons' exit." He commanded before turning and moving away.

"Loyalty, that's why Simmons came after you and Carter, loyalty." Quinn assured. John paused, closing his eyes, as he brought up Joss. Joss was gone, he lost her, and he wanted to die too, but not before he had Simmons. "That's how we built this whole damn thing, I'll be damned if I repay that loyalty by breaking it now. Even if you threaten to kill me."

John felt a stirring inside him, a stirring of who he used to be. The man that had changed thanks to Joss, her constant care for him, her constant belief he was a better man than he truly was. The monster that he worked hard to tame was clawing its way out, and he was thankful it was still there. He turned to eye Alonzo Quinn.

"You see that's where you and I understand each other. Now everything you do is an abomination but your word….your word is your bond. To your godson….to Carter. You do as you say, so do I." He moved towards Quinn, keeping his eyes on him while unhooking his watch on his wrist. "I'm not going to threaten to kill you, I'm going to kill you whether you tell me or not. No bargaining, in three minutes," he paused to drop the watch on the table on the pad of paper, to emphasize his meaning. "You're dead." He stated before turning to walk away, letting his implication to sink in. John had the say of when he chose to kill Quinn, whether it was truly three minutes, a minute, or ten….it was up to him.

"I've killed many people, never bothered me much, it was why I was good at it. I didn't like them suffering though, it took me years to figure out how to do it quickly, painlessly. But if you don't tell me I'm going to forget all that, understand." He whispered as he trembled, eyeing the monster in front of him, pulling his gun out of the back of his pants. His wound stretching, his dress shirt felt sickening wet against his body, he ignored it. "And I'll make the last three minutes of your life….last forever." John loathed the burning at the backs of his eyes.

Quinn sat staring at him, quietly. "What will it be, Quinn; suffer, or protect that loyalty?" John's throat felt like it was closing. His vision was blackened on the edges, but he kept watch as Quinn turned a little, picked the pen up, and began writing. He smiled a little they were all alike, he had Simmons, now. He licked his dry lips waiting for him to finish writing, before he moved to grab the scrap of paper. He yanked it out of the pad, turning to move away, letting Quinn think he was going to survive this. What a sweet torment it was, John turned aiming his weapon. "Time's up," he stated.

"Mr. Reese," John didn't blink as he heard the door open, heard Finch's soft and concerned voice beside him. "You know what Joss risked to take this man down on her terms, legal terms." Finch said quietly, hoping he could get through to his friend. The amount of blood that was gushing out of him was alarming. He was petrified another friend of his was going to be fighting for their life.

"Everything," Finch shivered. John's voice was dead, empty. But John's answer reminded him that John wasn't operating under the full story. He didn't know that Jocelyn's prognosis was going up rather than down.

"Jocelyn is fighting for her life John. She wouldn't want this, you're not doing this for her, so please if you're going to kill Mr. Quinn, don't view it that way."

"I should have killed him in the first place. Why didn't we Finch?" John wondered not even hearing him as he collapsed to his knees, leaning against the wooden dresser, keeping his weapon aimed at the man he was going to kill.

"It's not our purpose, we save lives, YOU save lives."

"Not all of them." John's vision blurred as tears welled up.

"Jocelyn's fighting to come back to us, to you, please don't give up on her. John….you're dying, she's going to need you. Please let us help you." Finch whispered trying to contain his fear, praying his friend was hearing him rather than listening to the anguish in his heart. He reached forward to take the gun from John's hand that was covered in blood.

"No," John aimed the gun and pulled the trigger, Finch's eyes widened in surprise, and watched as the gun he held had no ammo left. John kept pulling the trigger and nothing happened. The utter desolate and desperate look on John's face was heartbreaking as he looked at him, and Finch snatched the gun out of his hand. John was broken, chose to die rather than be saved, and Finch had never seen John like this. It was as if John had not heard him that Joss was in the hospital not dead, and it appeared that John rather die than live without her.

"Let's get him out of here," Fusco commanded. Shaw came over to help Finch. They needed to get him back to the safe-house get blood into him, stitch him back up, and medicate him. Surprisingly John was able to walk, though it was clear he was going into shock because he was easily fooled into believing they would take him to go see Joss (though he believed she was in the morgue). He collapsed into the car, with the aide of Root and Shaw. Root eyed John in shock and concern, Shaw was tending to him in the backseat.

"We should be going after Simmons," Shaw said after a few minutes of them driving away from where Quinn was holed up. John was out cold. "Reese got his location!" She had seen the paper but her first priority had been to get John.

"We almost lost one friend already, I don't intend to almost lose another, not tonight." Finch countered. He wasn't ready to lose either one.

"I can't believe we are going to let Simmons' get away!" Shaw grumbled.

"No one said Reese was the only one out to kill Quinn," Root spoke up as she drove, and that got Finch's attention. Who else….Fusco? But he couldn't concentrate on Patrick Simmons number coming up or saving his life, because first they had to save John's.

AN: Oh boy, how I wish this was real. Joss fighting for her life, rather than dead :'( I apologize for the roughness of this story and it will continue where it sort of breaks and comes to another point in the episodes or where I add missing moments and tags to this story. Here's the teaser for the next chapter:

"John, please, listen to me…Jocelyn isn't gone. She's not dead." Finch said easily subduing the bigger man's attempts to leave the bed. His eyes were wild, pain so vivid in them. His skin an ashen color, his attempts to get up, fled.

"She's not?" John sounded so tentative like he was scared to believe that to be the truth. Like this was a dream to him, that he had really lost Joss, and wasn't ever going to see her again.

This story is about 14 chapters in length and it goes into season 4 :D. I have the first 5 back already from my friend who is proofing this for me because I asked her to for November since it's nearly a year since we lost our beloved Carter. So thank you Elaine for proofing this so quickly for me! I'm going to post this periodically and this story is definite Careese through and through XD