Disclaimer: The characters of Person of Interest don't belong to me. I'm just borrowing them with no intention of gaining any profit.
.
Author's note: I didn't plan on writing a post-season 3 speculation story but my Muse decided differently and here it is.
A knowledge of the episode "Risk" - 1x16 would be advantageous.
.
Acknowledgements: Thanks again for your amazing beta-work, scully1138 - but then again, I pay you handsomely ;)
.
.
John is quite certain that he will never forget the look on Harold's face - the anguish and uncertainty that is clearly written on his friend's features as they both throw one last look over their shoulders before parting ways and disappearing into the crowds. For how long they don't know. Maybe for a few months, maybe forever.
With his emergency bag slung over his shoulder he descends the nearest stairs to the subway to catch whichever train comes next. The platform is filled with the rush hour crowd and he easily blends in with his suit and dark coat.
For the next two hours he rides the trains aimlessly - hopping on and off at irregular intervals before he finally makes his way to one of his own secret caches. There he carefully extracts his new life from the brown envelope Root left for him. He briefly glances at his new driver's license before unfolding the page that details his new life. He studies the page carefully in order to commit his new background to memory like he has done so many times before. Then he burns it.
Taking out a few bills of the stash of money from the envelope he shoves the rest into his duffel bag and adds it all to his cache. John is certain that his new identity - just like the ones Harold created for him - is carefully crafted, and for now he'll keep it in reserve. But he has no intention of leading the life of a stranger. Not after he has finally come to appreciate and even enjoy his own.
He wanders the streets until his eyes fall onto a shop sign that he was looking for. The store clerk of the second-hand shop can't believe her eyes as John trades in his expensive tailored Italian suit for a more than slightly worn outfit of jeans, plaid shirt, hooded pullover, boots and an old military jacket.
Ruffling up his hair as he steps out onto the street in his new outfit, John actually smiles. Before Harold found him there had been one place where he felt safe. A place where he doesn't need a last name or a cover identity. A place where he can be himself as anonymously as possible.
John walks the familiar streets that he used to stumble along in a drunken haze but still easily finds the place he is looking for. Harold's generosity is clearly visible. There are warm blankets and mattresses for everyone and the faces of the people throwing him furtive glances are well-fed. He briefly wonders if that much-needed help has come to an end now that Harold's covers have been blown. However he knows that these people - the outsiders of the civilized world - had made it through life before Finch's help and they will certainly somehow make it through again on their own.
Nobody here cares about who he is or where he has come from. The life one has led before coming here and the things one did are of no consequence.
Finally finding the person he was looking for he kneels beside her. She stops stirring her soup she was in the process of warming over a gas heater, first looking at him with a frown before recognition makes her face break out into a welcoming smile.
"Hi Joan," he says with a warm smile of his own. "I was wondering if the place beside you was already taken?"
.
.
John has to get used to the first couple of nights on the streets all over again. Apparently he allowed himself to be pampered by Finch with his lavish safe-houses and lofts. Maybe it's harder this time since he is staying clear from anything that could muddle up his mind. However it doesn't take long until he sleeps soundly with the knowledge that Joan and the others are watching out for him just like he's watching out for them.
The payphone around the corner rings nearly everyday and the mechanical voice on the other end has thankfully dropped the coded messages and switched to somewhat clearer instructions.
After a few weeks his ever present stubble has turned into a full salt-and-pepper beard and his hair into an unruly mane. Nothing about him now resembles the 'Man in a Suit' and he knows from experience that to most of the people out there in the streets he is invisible. And that's just the way he likes it.
No one takes notice of the homeless, dirty bum sitting at the side of the street or at the very end of the subway car or wandering aimlessly down the sidewalks until it's time for him to strike and to disappear again. Not even Harold as he walks past John almost daily on his way to work. And until it is safe or necessary again for them to come out of hiding John is more than content to watch his friend from afar and to keep an eye out for him.
In his mind the world still cannot afford to lose Harold Finch.
Now certainly more than ever.
.
The End