John sits in the sand, staring out across the ocean. He's in shorts and a tee shirt with a bottle of whiskey seated next to him. A breeze rolls across the waves and ruffles his hair while he closes his eyes and breathes in deep before sighing it back out. Slowly he rises to his feet and, leaving the bottle behind, goes out to wade in the water. The current is slow and soothing and splashes lightly against his calves. But a burst of wind nearly knocks him over, so he decides to walk where it is shallower. John heads further down the beach and comes to a rocky section with a cliff about 30 feet high directly above the crashing waves.

Spotting a seashell, he strolls over and picks it up, turning the smooth object over in his hands. A loud splash turns John's attention back to the rock formation, and when he sees the pattern of disturbed water, looks up to see where the rock had fallen from: the cliff.

Because the sun was so bright, John had to shield his eyes but there was no mistaking the person perched dangerously close to the cliff edge was, in fact, Finch.

John springs into action and immediately scales the large rocks that lead to the cliff and he begins to climb at a rapid pace. When he reaches the top, tired though he now is, he sprints to the edge where Finch has his back to him, stopping ten feet behind.

This is the first time John noticed that Finch is in a full suit despite the extreme beach heat. Finch leans over the cliff edge and looks as though he is about to jump off when John yells out to him.

"Finch! Stop!"

Finch spins around and looks puzzled but then smiles with recognition.

"Hello, John," Finch replies calmly. "What are you doing here?"

"I was about to ask you the same." John takes a step closer to Finch.

Finch looks down at John's feet when he realizes he got closer and takes a half step back, toppling a few stones off the side.

"Harold...just...come down...we can talk about this! Just...come on down..." John tries to remain soothing.

Finch just smiles sympathetically and tilts his head to the side, taking in John's flustered appearance.

"You can't help John. This has nothing to do with you."

"But you don't have to do this. Think, think of the people we still have to protect, hmm? What will they do without you?" John takes another half step closer, but Finch's smile is gone and he sends John a warning glance.

"John, just don't. You can't do anything for me."

"Why?" John yells out, exasperated. "Why can't I help you? Why don't you want to live?"

Finch takes a step closer to John and his jaw clenches with frustration.

"Why?" Finch repeats. "You think I want to throw myself off this cliff?"

Finch points down over the edge and John follows his finger and sees the sharp rocks and unforgiving waves.

"Then why are you...?" John asks slowly, taking a step closer.

Finch looks away and quickly backpedals awkwardly to the edge he started.

John flinches and raises his hands to try and calm Finch.

"Hey, i'm not going to do anything, I just want to understand...if you don't want to die, then why are you going to jump?"

Finch seems on the verge of tears as he looks down at his own feet, trying to think of what to say next. When he looks up, his eyes are dry but he looks drained.

"Because of her." Finch says, barely above a whisper.

"Who...?" John asks slowly, taking a step closer when Finch seems too distracted to notice. "Grace?"

John feels extreme sympathy to Finch who, too, had had to give up someone he loved for all they both had left: the machine.

Finch laughs darkly and shakes his head as he takes off his coat.

"No...no, not Grace, no."

Tossing his jacket over the edge, Finch watches it dance in the wind before coming to rest on the rocks below. Calm at first, it lies still until a wave washes over, pulling the jacket back and forth until a ripping sound resonates as the jacket is torn making Finch cringe. Turning back to John, who hasn't taken his eyes off him, Finch says quietly, "Her."

Suddenly the realization of what was happening hit John. Like watching a movie, Finch's kidnapping, Alicia being found dead, John's determination to find Finch flashed before him and when it was done, John noticed that Finch seemed to be studying him.

Finch's presence now confused John because he was supposed to be in Root's hands, what was he doing at this beach? What was John doing at this beach?

"Wh...what did she want from you?" John asked, still trying to piece everything together.

"Don't strain yourself John, I know this doesn't make any sense. I don't really get it either."

John looks at Finch, waiting for an explanation but Finch just shrugs and turns back toward the edge.

"Harold!" John yells out, taking a few steps closer, holding out a hand as if to pull Finch back.

Finch turns back again, more out of pity than doubting whether or not he should jump.

"John..." Finch begins, smiling slightly. "You can't help me, you can only help yourself now. You've always had to help others...now it's your turn. Just go, you can still make a life for yourself. You've done it before."

Finch turns back to the edge and John goes closer, only a few feet away now.

"Why won't you let me help you? If Root is doing this...why won't you let me stop her?"

Without turning around, Finch replies, "Because she said she would kill you."

Taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, Finch stepped over the edge.

"No!" John ran to the edge to catch him, but Finch's wrist slipped in his hand and John knew he had lost him.

John closed his eyes as he lifted his head up and wanted to scream out in pain. When he opened his eyes though, he found himself sitting at Harold's desk, wearing a full suit and was not, in fact, at a beach.

It had all been a dream, John told himself, but the conversation between he and "Finch" didn't settle well, regardless of it not being real.

John wiped the sweat from his brow and saw his hand was shaking. Pulling off his jacket, he stood up and rushed to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face before pausing and catching his own reflection in the mirror. He looked ragged and unkempt.

It's been a week...i have to find him...

Heading back to the desk, John gathered the papers he had been collecting on Finch for the past few days, getting anything he thought might explain who Root was and her connection to Finch.

A ding rang out in the room.

John's eyes scanned the room as he had one hand on the gun at his hip. As he looked around, he caught sight of a line of green text on the otherwise blank monitor beside him. John couldn't believe his eyes as he leaned in closer, not sure if this was good or bad.

There was only one line:

"Root: Hello John."