As a note I do not own POI, I only own my OC Alexis

As still as a stone, she laid in the alleyway. She felt a warm liquid run down fingers as she pressed her hand against the bullet wound on her shoulder. Instead of screaming out of pain, tears fell from her eyes. No one cared about what happened to her. Her parents were buried in a cemetery somewhere, thanks to her relatives, but they didn't want her. They threw her into the foster-care system with no more thought than the clothes carelessly thrown in an empty room when guest come over to eat a meal. She had no hope of being found. She would just end up a Jane Doe in a morgue somewhere, with the world none the wiser to her existence.

Little known to her, someone was looking for her. A lone camera at the end of the alley had seen her plight and the man behind the computer was hoping his partner got to her in time to save her life.

John knew the newest number was running out of time, but he was at least ten minutes away from the spot that Finch said she was. Cater and Fusco were on the other side of the city dealing with a homicide, so there was no hope of having that intervention. Finch was in the library trying to figure out who would want the poor girl dead, which John would gladly deal with after he found her. She had already suffered enough in the care of the Federal Government she didn't need to go through anymore pain. As John got closer he began to sprint until he stood in the alley. She was nowhere in sight, with the night falling and so few lights, he was worried that he would miss her in the dark shadows. Then he heard it. A soft whimpering came from somewhere to his left. He started to walk in the direction of the pained sound, till he saw the dark shape of a shoe sticking out from behind a dumpster. Slowly he approached her, making as little noise as possible so that he would not startle the injured teen and scare her worse than she probably already was.

When he could finally get a good look at her, his throat seemed to close up. She was curled in a fetal position with her back against the wall, passed out. Her right hand was coated with blood and blood had soaked the front of her unzipped, ratty, fleece jacket. The jeans she was wearing were worn, faded and covered with muck and grim from the street. Her tennis shoes were in the same sorry state and her light brown hair looked greasy in the dim lighting of the alley.

John tapped his ear piece. "Finch, I found her. She's lost a lot of blood."

"There is a clinic about two blocks from your current position," Finch replied as a clattering of computer keys filled the background. "Can you get her there in time?"

"She'll be there in time," John said as he tapped the ear piece. He then turned and picked the teen up off the dirty street. With care, he quickly headed towards the clinic.

Finch entered the clinic to see John pacing the far end of the waiting room. Harold was concerned, John never did that, but then he really disliked it when people harmed children and that teen was no exception to that rule.

"The doctor says that she'll make it, Finch," John said in his gravelly voice. "We'll need to take her to a safe house as soon as she is out."

"I'm assuming you'll be flushing these imbeciles out after she is safe," Mr. Reese.

"You assume correctly, "John said as he turned an icy glare towards the operating room.

"I have found nothing so far, other than her relatives had no concerns for her welfare when they put her in Foster Care."

"She can't go back."

"I completely agree with you in that regard, but then that pose the problem of where she will go once she is safe."

"We'll just cross that bridge when we get that far," Reese said with a slight smirk as the doctor entered the room.

The white haired doctor looked between the two men and then leaned tiredly against the white wall of the waiting room.

"The teen will be just fine," the doctor said as Reese leveled an icy glare at the doctor. "The bullet missed all of her major veins, arteries and nerves as it tore through the muscle before it lodged itself in the bone, but she lost a lot of blood, and will be a bit shaky for the next couple of days. So rest is an order, but other than that she'll be just fine."

"Good," Reese said as he stalked out of the room, presumably to go after the shooter.

"How long before she's able to leave?" Finch asked.

"She'll awake up in a couple of minutes then you can take her," the doctor said as Finch handed him a duffle bag containing money. "I take it that the two of you will be taking responsibility for her?"

"The agreement that we had from the start was that you didn't ask any questions about us or anyone we bring here," Finch said before he hobbled over to the nearest chair. His leg and back hurt from old wounds, but he still couldn't help feeling sorry for the teen. She had been home when her parents died in a car crash a few miles from home. Her relatives had big bank accounts, but they threw her away like trash instead of taking care of her. In Foster Care she hadn't faired very well either. Finch had seen the reports of abuse that Cater had gotten from the system. No one had even reported her missing from her latest home. How they missed her baffled Finch.

Her school reports didn't even hint at the troubles that she was having. Her grades were holding steady in the "B" range. The teachers had no disciplinary problems with her. In fact, they all generally liked the girl. She was showing signs of depression though, according to the school counselor, and there were reports of her being bullied. Nothing seemed to have been done about either situation, other than just reporting it up, Finch thought as he looked over her records once more on his phone. She needed someone to support her, but instead she had to basically look after herself.

"Mr. Wren, the child is awake," the doc said as he stuck his head into the waiting room.

"Thank you," Finch said as he followed the doctor to her room.

She stared at the white walls with emerald green eyes, trying to remember how she ended up in that room, but all she could remember was the alley and the searing pain in her shoulder. Someone had found her and at that moment she really wanted to know who. Who was the person that got her shoulder bandaged and arm in a sling The doctor, who had treated her, didn't even say a word, even after she had asked several times. He just mumbled about a silent agreement or something like that.

A knock on the wall by the door, brought her out of her musings and back into reality to see a short man dressed in a shirt and tie wearing glasses standing in the door way.

"Who are you?" she asked as she studied him.

"A friend," he said seriously as he entered the room with a pronounced limb and then proceeded to sit down in the chair next to her bed.

She stared at him in confusion.

"Your life is in danger," the man said quietly.

"Think I've figured that out!" she said as she glared at him.

"Oh, I know that you know otherwise my partner wouldn't have had to bring you here, Alexis."

Her eyes went wide. "How do you know who I am, let alone where to find me?"

"We know a lot about you Miss Bishop. We know about your parent's deaths and what your relatives did. We know that you are a good student, but I know that you're suffering. No one takes being abandoned as well as you apparently have.

Without thinking, she chose to let the tears that she had held in for years fall.

"My partner and I plan to look after you until the threat on your life is gone," Finch said a little shaken by the tears.

"And then what?" she choked. "Throw me back into the system?"

"Preferably that is not my solution to this conundrum, but we'll deal with it when we come to that particular bridge," Finch said as he stared into her bright green eyes.

"What's your name?" she asked as she dried her tears on the sleeve of her hospital gown.

"Harold Finch, you can just call me Harold."

"Your partner?"

"John Reese."