A/N: Hey, guys! This story takes place after last week's episode, Episode 11 Super. If you haven't seen it, I'm sorry. All you need to know is that Finch had Fusco plant a prescription bottle in a vet in Connecticut with Reese's prints on it to throw off Snow and his partner, who I found had a name. lol.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to the awesome makers of Person of Interest. The story is mine though. Of course these are all just theories of mine. Enjoy! :) Feedback is welcome and appreciated.

Chapter 1: The Snow Fall

January 2012

Mark Snow descended upon the small town in Connecticut where he knew John Reese had neglected to clean up after himself. It was sloppy, especially for an ex-CIA agent, to leave a print, but he had to admit that when death was knocking at his door, he would be less concerned with leaving a trail and more concerned with doing anything he could just to make sure that trail didn't lead to the grave. He did, however, find it odd that he would travel so far away while injured, but so far he wasn't complaining. They'd just picked up the scent of their rogue and it was about time they finished what they'd set out to do.

The police officers in charge of the case were wary at first of Snow and his men, mysterious and threatening, but immediately decided they would cooperate as long as it helped them find the culprit who had broken into the town's only veterinary hospital.

"Give me all you've got on this." Snow demanded. "The man we're looking for is extremely dangerous and injured to boot."

"How dangerous are we talking here, Agent?" Asked the chief of police stiffly with arms tightly crossed, trying to at least look like he wasn't letting the CIA steamroll him and his department. "Has he killed anyone?"

"Absolutely, Captain." Snow nodded solemnly as his partner placed crime scene photos on his desk. "He's been involved in more murders than we can say. We just want to find him as quickly as possible to avoid any more casualties."

The chief breathed deeply, staring intently at the six pictures on his desk, each one a life stolen by the crazy man. "Heck, this isn't my kind of crime investigation. The most I see around here is petty theft and the neighborhood kids causing trouble." He threw the pictures down and nodded to a young officer who was waiting just outside the door. He entered, carrying with him a file, which the chief took and presented to the two men before him. "As far as I'm concerned, gentlemen, this guys all yours. Have at it."

Snow nodded his thanks. About time, he thought, what a bunch of sloth-slow hicks these guys were. It had taken them this long just to get a look at their files. Disgraceful. He thumbed through the file until he came upon the fingerprints taken off the bottle. Now there was an interesting development.

"Captain, I don't recall you mentioning there being a second set of prints on this prescription bottle." Snow remarked.

"Yes, well, I didn't think to mention it." He acknowledged. "You were only interested in your guy's prints."

"Did you run the other prints too?" Snow continued and the chief nodded.

"Well, of course we did. However, there was no match in our system." He said.

"So, you mean to tell me it wasn't one of the vets in the clinic?" Snow pressed on, growing more intrigued as the captain nodded.

"We just assumed the prints belonged to one of the volunteers. They're not supposed to handle medication, but sometimes it happens." The chief replied, believing this little assumption, but Snow was not convinced of such an unlikely coincidence.

"No, I don't think that's the case here, Captain." He smirked and turned to his partner, Tyrell Evans, who was quickly picking up on what he was hinting at. "I think our boy has an accomplice."

His partner then snapped a photo of the unknown print on his smartphone and ran it against the CIA database. Within a minute they had a match and the African American man was unpleasantly confused as he showed the results to his boss.

"That's impossible." He said quietly to Snow, brows furrowing, but Snow was only growing more and more interested. "There's no match anywhere."

Just then, the same officer who had produced the file a moment ago was knocking at the door. He was motioned in by the captain once again. "Sir, there's a phone call for you." The captain reached for the phone on his desk, but the officer shook his head. "Not you, sir." He added to Agent Snow, who took the phone from the Captain's desk, who then left to offer them privacy.

"Mark Snow, yes?" Asked a gravelly voice.

"Depends on who's asking." He replied.

"I know the man you're looking for." He explained. "The prints you just ran." Snow froze uncertainly, but the other man continued to speak. "You won't find him in any system. He saw to that."

"And where exactly did you get that information from?"

"That's not important right now." The man chuckled and Snow was unnerved. "Tell you what, Agent. I have information you need if you're going to find your target, a man by the name of John Reese, if I'm not mistaken, and I know I'm not. I know he's CIA and I know they're working together."

"And why are you telling me this. I'm sure it's not out of the goodness of your heart." Snow asked suspiciously, sensing a motive. He didn't like that he was being offered help by someone other than CIA.

"Right you are." He replied. "There's a car waiting for you and your partner, Mr. Evans, outside. Get in. We'll discuss this more."

Snow scowled. "Sure thing." He hung up and motioned to his partner. They left the station without another word to the captain or anyone else.

As the man on the phone had said, there was, in fact a car waiting for them. A black SUV. The driver ordered them to get in the back and they stiffly and warily complied. They were then taken into a downtown pub where another man awaited them in the dim light wearing a hat that covered his face and a long black jacket.

"Now what kind of business is this?" Snow wondered of the curious figure before him, who smiled.

"I have a proposition for you." He said. "I know you're chasing a dangerous man, someone who you believed to be dead."

Snow nodded warily.

"Now, don't ask me how I know. I have sources I'm not at liberty to disclose to you." He chuckled and Snow and Evans shared a look. "To get directly to the point, I know the man who works with your boy, a very intelligent, very paranoid recluse, a man who is also legally dead. He's hard to track, as flighty as a finch." He smiled at his own private pun, unbeknownst to the two CIA men. "I'm offering my assistance in capturing your little problem, your lone wolf, if you will, so that at the same time, I also get to cage my own little problem."

Snow leaned forward curiously steeping his hands in front of him and smiled.

"Pray tell."

"Apart they're brilliant in their own respects. Together, they're twice as so, but as a team they are still vulnerable and I am here to exploit that weakness: my target." He threw a picture down on the table. "His name's Harold Finch. He's got computer smarts, but he's crippled. We take him and we lead your boy right into a trap."

"I get my guy and you get yours." Snow nodded with a smirk.

"Exactly," the man said. "And this time, they'll stay dead."