It was snowing again, the bitter wind blowing the snow into little eddys. Reese shivered, despite his overcoat and thick gloves the cold was really getting to him. He wondered if he was coming down with something, his head ached a little, and there was the beginnings of a scratchiness in the back of his throat. At least the numbers were slowing down a little. Ten days to Christmas. Reese shivered again, but that had less to do with cold than the season.

Christmas was not his favorite time of the year. It really only served to highlight what he, and Harold, had not got. Families to care about them.

He headed for the Library, he might not have a family, but he had a friend and that counted for a lot. Even if they did not currently have a number, Reese was going in to work. Because that was a great deal less depressing than the alternative.

Harold Finch stood in front of the case board and stared at the number. 47. He didn't understand it. The machine had given him that number four times now and that should have been impossible. The machine was not able to give him two digit numbers. But it had.

A soft beep announced the arrival of a message, effectively distracting Harold from his reverie. A new number. He set to work.

She sat and waited by the rocks, she had been there three days already, and it was almost time, but there was still no sight of Beatrice. If she did not arrive, Aya would have to go through the time anomaly without her. Aya used her time to prepare. Machine did not exist in the Permian, but the data was already in her mind. She sifted through it carefully, initial contact would be difficult but she had little doubt she would be able to contact Machine in 21st Century.

She used the remaining time to prepare her body. Honing her moves carefully. She hoped when he, and the hunter, understood their roles in the fate of the future, they would see the necessity for their continued survival and that would only be achieved through co-operation. The crunch of footsteps behind her startled her only very slightly.

"You're late." She addressed her hunter without turning around.

Beatrice smiled a little sourly. "You know where I was, and you knew I would be here, all other considerations are irrelevant."

Aya smiled, it was true enough. "Did you acquire it?"

The other shook her head. "The report was false. Perhaps a delaying tactic."

"You think?" Aya's thoughtful expression took the sting out of the response.

Beatrice shrugged. "It was unclear. There were no signs. Just the energy signature."

The air began to shimmer about ten feet in front of them, warrior and hunter tensed, waiting for the shimmering to resolve itself into the shape, an intense ball of light.

As the ball winked and shimmered in front of them, they walked up to it. Drew their sidearms and stepped through into the 21st Century.

They emerged into a darkened alleyway. New York in winter. They paused, lingering in the shadows as they adjusted to the 15% less oxygen, and the pollution of the 21st Century.

Reese climbed the stairs to the first floor. The cold had settled more oppressively over him as he walked, by the time he reached the Library he was aware that he was no longer coming down with something, the something was on him with a vengeance. He had stopped by the pharmacy on his way in. Even getting the flu shot had not held back whatever this virus was.

He pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and entered Harold's inner sanctum, and realized at once that something was very wrong.

"Harold?"

The reclusive genius turned in his chair. "We have a new number." His jaw clenched and he swallowed. "It's you, John."

It was as though the world slammed to a halt. Reese stumbled, and slumped into his usual chair. All thoughts of cold virus pushed to the back of his mind. Brain spinning with a thousand thoughts of potential threats out there, threats that could put Harold and everything they had worked to build up in harm's way.

His first thought was to put as much distance as quickly as possible between Finch and himself. He shot a look at Finch and was about to say as much, but Harold cut across. "Mr Reese, every time some threat has come up when we are separated, things do not turn out well. You've been shot, I've been kidnapped by a mad woman and if you have forgotten your recent arrest I can assure you, I HAVE NOT."

Reese almost jumped. Harold Finch never raised his voice, he had no need to. Appearances were deceptive, Finch carried enough weight of quiet authority without actually saying much or doing anything at all. It was just his way.

"Whatever this is, we will face it together."

John closed his eyes. As badly as he wanted to protect Finch, and what they had, he didn't want to go through this alone. As he pondered this new dependency Bear shoved his nose on his Alpha's knee. Reese's hand rubbed the dog's head gently, scratching behind the ears, Bear leaned in, sensing that the Alpha was in need of comfort.

It was a cold night. 47 had studied his target for four days so far. This one was less simple. The man was surveillance aware, never ate in the same place twice, did not appear to sleep in the same place a second time, the only consistent place would be the old Library building. Something was not right.

He had brought Nika to New York with him, travelling as a couple made good mission sense. And he could take care of her, while working, knowing where she was at all times. Safer. For him, for her.

His target was not the man that his client had said he was. Far from it, and it had become a source of considerable curiosity to 47 why the client should want John Reese dead.