So I'm back! I've been gone most of this month but now I'm back! I still don't own Person Of Interest and I don't own the song Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright. So um yeah. Enjoy!

John walked the crowded streets of New York. It was a Saturday afternoon, and rain fell heavily. John was beginning to wish he had brought an umbrella. His eyes were cast downwards. His thoughts were jumbled as he kept thinking back to the "ghost". He had barely registered the voice that was right next to him.

"Your faith was strong but you needed proof, you saw her bathing on the roof her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you. She tied you to a kitchen chair, she broke your throne, she cut your hair, and from your lips she drew the hallelujah." John looked towards the voice. The voice came from a girl with a guitar. She looked up at him as she kept singing. "There was a time when you let me know what's real and going on below, but now you never show it to me do you? And remember when I moved and you the holy dark was moving to and breath we drew was hallelujah." He stayed longer to keep listening. "Maybe there's a God above, and all I ever learned from love was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you. And it's not a cry you can hear at night, it's not somebody who's seen the light, it's a cold and its a broken hallelujah." As the long came to an end, John felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see who it was, but they were gone. He turned back to the girl as well, but she was long gone. It was as if she was never there. He started to walk back to his home but was stopped.

"John." He turned to see the girl.

"How do you know me?"

"Surely you recognize me." He took a long look at the girl. Then it hit him.

"The ghost?" She seemed to dislike this name because she saw a flash of anger go through her eyes.

"Yes, but I prefer Emily."

"Have you been following me?" Confusion came over her. "Were you at that corner waiting for me?"

"John, a lot of people walk past that corner. There is no way that I would know you were going to be there." He gave her a look. She sighed. "I did know you were going to be there though." He took this in.

"Are you really there?" She nodded.

"Have thought about talking to me about it?" He glared at her then turned away. "You can't avoid this John! You can't wallow in despair! In guilt! I have seen what that can do to someone. Please let me help you!" She grabbed onto his arm to stop him. He looked at her a while longer.

"I don't need your help!"

"Clearly." She mumbled. "Please stop being so stubborn!" She still had not let go of him. There was a flash then a moment of blackness. John realised that he had closed his eyes. He opened and found he was in his home. There was also a blue police box in his room.

"How-"

"I'm not explaining. Please let me help you! "

"Why?"

"Because I don't need to live my life knowing that there was someone who I could have helped that didn't want it! I don't need to live knowing that their lives have been broken down even more because I couldn't help." He watched her while she ranted. Tears had begun to fall from her eyes. "John, from one broken soul to another, you don't need to go through this alone. No one should have to. Please, think about your friends and how this could affect them. They don't need this on their conscious." She walked over to the box and opened the door slightly. She looked over her shoulder one last time. "Please think about this. I'll be back in a few days." She stepped through the doors. John watched in awe as the box disappeared.

"Thank you." He whispered into thin air. He would definitely think about