Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or any of its characters.

A/N: This is my first ever fanfic and all of the mistakes are mine. I've been reading it forever and love this fandom. I'm always thrilled when I see a new POI story, especially from all of the Careese writers. This is set after The Crossing. Devil's Share did not happen.

Chapter One

Detective Lionel Fusco stood alone on the deserted street outside of the third precinct. It was around one in the morning and eerily quiet as a snow storm blew into the city. About an inch of snow had already accumulated, and he was thankful it covered the dark stain where his partner had bled out a mere three weeks before. He shivered pulling his khaki colored overcoat tighter around his body, attempting to shield himself from the cold weather and the cold feeling of loss being back at this place.

Lionel tried not to think about what he found that night when he arrived. Carter had told him she was going to expedite the release of their mutual friend. He was not far behind her when she left the eighth. He had made a quick detour to pick up Lee from hockey practice.

When Lionel arrived, John was hunched over Carter's lifeless body. Finch had pulled the town car next to the curb, the backdoor open, awaiting a passenger. Finch tugged at John's arm, desperately pleading with John to get into the car. John would not budge, only grasping Carter tighter, his head leaned down over her, shoulders wracked by sobs. Lionel did not think he had ever seen someone so inconsolable. He pulled out his cell phone and grimly called 911 reporting the shooting, barely able to utter the words "Officer down." He walked over and crouched down beside John. He firmly pried John's bloody hands from Carter's lifeless body. "I've got her." Lionel gently placed her body on the pavement and put one of John's arms around his shoulder. Finch took the same position on the other side. By this point, John was incoherent from blood loss and grief, making their mission easier. They deposited John's body unceremoniously into the backseat. Lionel slammed the door and turned to Finch. "Get him out of here."

As the black town car pulled away, the incessant ringing of the payphone finally stopped. Lionel could hear the faint strains of sirens in the distance. He pushed the hair from Carter's face and froze. His hand had brushed her nose and he had felt a soft, warm breath. "Carter." Lionel bent down to listen and could hear a soft gurgling. He checked her pulse. It was weak, but her heart was still beating. He yelled as the ambulance pulled up not recognizing his own desperate voice. "Over here."

Lionel swiped at the moisture that sprang to his eyes at the memories. She coded twice in the ambulance and made it into surgery only to die on the table. After all they had been through, Simmons won. He took away the best of them. Lionel turned as he heard the crunching of tires on freshly fallen snow. The black town car pulled to a stop. Finch exited the driver's seat while Shaw slid out of the passenger side.

Finch looked down, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. "This is a rather morbid place for a meeting, Detective."

"I had to do something to get your attention. It's been radio silence since Carter's funeral, and I want to know what's being done to hunt down Simmons. Where's Wonderboy?"

Finch fidgeted at the mention of his partner. "John is . . . unavailable."

"What do you mean unavailable? This should be the number one priority. After all she did for you two. For all of us. How is it you can save all of these random people, strangers? But she gets gunned down in the street on his watch."

Shaw cleared her throat. "Lionel, Reese has disappeared of his own design. If he ever resurfaces, it won't be before he has eliminated Patrick Simmons."

"Well, I'm not going to sit around and do nothing. I'm finishing what Carter started. As much as I despise that piece of garbage, I'm bringing Simmons in and he is going to pay for what he's done. Death is too good for him. He is going to rot in Rikers and I'm going to slam the cell door shut myself. So are you two going to help me?"


Jocelyn Carter's eyes felt as if they were glued shut when she tried to force them open. She could hear a steady, constant beeping as she blinked against the dim light coming from a bedside lamp. She gasped in surprise when she found she was not looking at the expected stark walls of a hospital room. She was definitely in a hospital bed with hospital equipment, but the rest of the furniture was wrong. The floors were a polished mahogany, and there were tall windows covered by heavy brocade tapestries. She could barely see the inky blackness of a night sky through a slit in the heavy curtains. Light from a distant street lamp shined in the distance revealing white, fluffy snowflakes collecting on the windowsill. Her arm was in a sling and breathing, much less moving, was painful. Simply turning her head made her feel as if she wanted to give in to the warm comfort of unconsciousness.

Suddenly she heard a door creak and a blond head peek inside the room. The woman's eyes widened and she swiftly shut the door. Carter started to call out but found that her throat was so parsed she could not make a sound more than a barely audible croak. The beeping of the heart monitor sped up as Carter steadily grew more alarmed at her unfamiliar surroundings. Could she be in one of Finch's safe houses? That would be the best case scenario. She did not want to think of the many worst case scenarios.

Her eyes snapped to the door as a voice said "Nice to see you awake, Detective. While you've been sleeping, the game has gotten very interesting indeed."