Person of Interest
When John Reese is tortured, he escapes to try and find the widow of an old friend, little realizing how much their two lives would be changed forever.
A soft snow was floating down from the winter sky over the small, simple cabin tucked in the woods near Capital Forest in Washington state. A warm light filtered out through the kitchen window, and the petite woman inside seemed very happy as she prepared a simple meal for her dinner. She often would stop and gaze out her favorite window, watching the innumerable flakes falling, remembering the days when she and her John would often go out at dusk and build snowmen and make angels in the white, pristine ground cover. But those days were long gone. John had died serving his country, and she was left to live the rest of her days without her love, his sparkling blue eyes crinkled at the corners, his soft laughter vibrating against her ear. She mentally shook herself out of the emotional funk, and instead began to thank her God for the ten years they had together. Their daughter, Dorrie Ann, was tucked away in the small bed under the stairwell, and their mutt, Molly the Wonder Dog was camped out as close as she could get to the crackling, wood fire set in the stone fireplace John had built for her. Annie poured a cup of decaf coffee in the blue Coleman metal cup, smiling softly at the tiny crack on the rim that Dorrie Ann had made one day playing tea party with her daddy home on leave.
Softly, she moved past her daughter's bed, and sat in the hard carved wooden rocker sipping her coffee and gingerly blowing on the chunks of venison in the stew her neighbor had given her. Annie was so thankful for her life now, though it was hard to continue being the minister of a small church without her John beside her. He had fit into her life so well, and often was seen doing odd jobs around the church building. His identical triplet brothers had come to help build, and between all the Coburn brothers, the church congregation had built a new facility to replace the old one burnt down by a vengeful drug lord. She laughed quietly when she remember the 4 men stepping over each other, challenging each other as to who could hammer fastest. Jaynie Cobb Coburn had beat them all. Of course, he sheepishly admitted to Annie that he had come in the night and used a power hammer, but the church members only laughed and shook his hand heartedly.
John Casey and Annie had met near the cabin one day when he had been shot and run off the road. Their relationship had matured and grown until they were married by General Diane Beckman, secretly so no one could hurt Casey through her. He was a N.S.A. Agent who was assigned to handle a young man with a computer in his brain. John had been shot, drugged, and nearly killed several times until he decided to retired from active spy work, and open his own security service. Meanwhile, Annie had Dorrie, a beautiful brown haired, blue eyed baby, within two years of their marriage, and life was so good until John was mysteriously killed in an undercover assignment. Since his death over 3 years ago, Annie had sought the warm and quiet of the family cabin more and more, and she was realizing that her years pastoring in her beloved church was coming to a close. Annie sighed loudly and rose to put her dish back into the kitchen sink, when Molly woke abruptly and growled deeply, staring at the large, wooden front door.
Annie set her bowl down on the table beside the couch and reached for John's Sig, hidden in a secret drawer below the sofa stand. She checked the fully loaded clip, rammed it back in, and flipped the safety off. She confidently handled the Sig easily; John had required her to know how to clean and assemble every gun they had. Annie stepped gently to the front door, and listened. She heard a few steps then an abrupt crash into the door. A hand began to slap the outside of the door, and a low, quiet male voice pleaded along with the banging.
"Please...ma'am...I need some...help." The man's voice was stuttering, and between the pauses Annie thought she heard him moan softly.
"Sir...I have a fully loaded P226Sig Sauer pointed at the door, and I am not afraid to use it. From your voice, I believe you are slightly over 6 feet tall, and if you do not leave now, I will promptly place one bullet right through the door and into your brain matter." Molly was scratching wildly at the door, below Annie's feet, and whining frantically. Annie shushed her and pulled gently on the dog's collar to make her sit.
The hand pounding began again in earnest on the outside of the door, and the man spoke again, his voice weaker.
"Please, ...Parson Annie...John sent me..Need help..I've been stabbed..." The man was holding his left side, but he stopped knocking, and laid his bruised forehead on the cool, wooden slats of the door. "I have no...gun..but your husband...told me..you were his beloved..."
At the sound of those words, so personal and private to Annie and her late husband, she yanked the door open and the tall, lean, man staggered into the warm cabin. Blood was flowing alarmingly from his side, between his left hand, as he tried to staunch the flow. He leaned heavy on her, and she barely had time to lay the Sig down, before he wrapped his right arm around her.
Sweat clung to his filthy shirt, and when her hands went around his muscular waist, she felt the rips and tears in his flesh. She helped him over to the couch, and as she bent to help lower his body there, he fell onto the couch, hitting his left side on the sofa's arm.
"Dear God...arrgh.." He cried out, arching his back at the horrific pain. Annie let Molly loose to run outside for a moment while she tried to move the man so he would be laying on his back on the sofa. He moved slowly, gritting his teeth, trying to help her position him better. Black clouds of unconsciousness was threatening him, but he struggled to try and talk.
"Who are you? How do you know my John?" Annie reached for a small blanket on the back of the sofa and pressed hard on the stab wound.
"So...sorry...Parson." He grasped her wrist, as she knelt before this once handsome stranger, his face cut and bruised, one eye nearly shut. "Your John...I knew from military, N.S.A. He told me...any trouble...come here." His words were slurring because of the pain, and he began to shiver, shaking violently as wave after wave of pain washed over his body.
"But how did you get this way?" Annie wiped the sweat gently from his face, and she was instantly fascinated by the brilliant, blue eye looking so gently back at her. The man actually tried to smile, as he softly said, "it's complicated."
"Men. You are all alike. You always resort to that saying when you don't want to explain." Annie reached for the first aid kit stored under the table where she had retrieved her Sig. She found some ibuprofen and shook out two for him to take.
"No..." he pushed her hand away. "Can't take...them. Allergic..." Suddenly, he sucked his breath in as she began to cut away the rest of his tattered shirt, revealing the extensive damage down to his chest.
"Dear Lord, Jesus, they tortured you with whips!" Annie recognized the telltale stripes, many of them already infected. She grabbed the hydrogen peroxide and gently began the process of clean each slash.
Again the man gently stopped her hand. "My gut...pour it all into the knife wound...now" He growled gently, and then he lifted her hand and kissed her palm.
"I am John, also. John Reese." He pulled his slacks down a few inches to help Annie, and as she leaned over more to pour the disinfectant in he tipped the bottle, and the medicine came flowing out over his gut wound.
"Oh, God. My God, why..." he groaned loudly, but would not let go of her hand until all the peroxide had been used. He was gasping in short, quick breaths, tears staining his face, blood running in tiny rivers along the long, proud nose.
"Why hast thou deserted me...?" Annie was crying at the pain she was causing John, and he looked intently at her as she quoted the well known Bible verse.
"Shsh, dear parson, I usually swear by God's name, but I think I realize He led me to.." John's eye(s) were closing slowly, and he passed out breathing two more words, "you, Annie."
Annie Coburn is an original character I used for several fan fictions posted under the FanFiction community of t.v. Series of Chuck. But I am become more than fascinated with Person of Interest and wanted to try my hand at weaving Annie's life into John's and shortly, Harold. So would love comments, criticisms, or waves of hands coming my way. Thank you for reviewing.