Harold Finch had been standing sipping tea in front of the computer when Reese's tracking signal on the screen went suddenly red and then black. It meant that the tracking connection on the disposable cell phone had been terminated, either by being turned off, the battery being taken out or something physically happening to the phone itself.

"This is not good…" his face pulled down in a pensive look of worry. He put the tea cup down and sat in his chair.

Harold's hands flew over the keyboard; he tracked the last known address of where Reese had been, pulled all the video surveillance from traffic cameras. He found six retail stores and one club in that area had private surveillance cameras and quickly tapped into them. With-in ten minutes he had copied all the surveillance cameras from inside and outside Raven's, had copied the outside cameras from the Petite Boutique, Beezu's Dry Cleaning, the Corner Barber shop and Mongo Pizzeria which were directly across the street from Raven's. He put them all on separate windows and with expert precision he begin to view what had happened, he re-wound the Petite Boutique tape, it was the one that caught most of what went on in front of Raven's, watching in reverse what had happened. Finch fast reversed it until he saw John coming out of the Raven and then he set it into play mode.

He sat horrified. He saw the flash of muzzle fire from inside Raven's, saw John start to react and saw the four men who had been crouched down behind the cars stand up and step around firing at Reese. He saw Reese's gun muzzle flash, saw him grab at his neck, saw a man go down, he watched as Reese stagger toward the alleyway and then saw him turn back and his gun hand moved down toward his pocket as he fell to the asphalt. He saw a woman come out of Raven's, a gun held in the ready, she lowered it as she looked sideways, she move to a man who was walking from behind a car. Finch saw a van pull up, watched as the man in the trench coat crouched over John. He stood and backed up a couple steps, letting the three men from the van bundle Reese up and manhandle him into the waiting van.

Finch's fingers tapped over the keyboard and he enlarged the frame that he had frozen, Agent Mark Snow's face was captured. Finch went from horrified to terror.

Finch rocked in his chair. His eyes went to the time stamp on the frozen video to the clock on the computer. Thirty minutes had now gone by. He did the only thing he could think of…He picked up his cell phone and started dialing.

POI

Mark Snow sat on the bench inside the cargo area of the van looking down at John. He marveled one more time at the fluke that had happened. He had been standing inside the dry cleaning store, picking up his order. He was irritated because his partner, who he considered his personal flunky, had been sent on another assignment. He glared at the woman behind the counter as she hung his clothing on the rack. She had asked him for his ticket, he told her he didn't have it, and gave her his name…then she had the audacity to ask him for ID. He pulled his false ID out and showed it to her. He tossed the money on the counter and grabbed his clothing off the rack. Mumbling about inept people he turned and headed to the door. As a normal procedure he stopped, scanning the street, looking for anything that would draw his attention and there, across the street was John Reese. He knew his jaw had dropped. He'd been searching for John for months now, and wham, there he was. He stepped back when he saw John "sense" him.

Predator to predator instinct.

He watched as John had stepped into the shadows of the building, looking for what had alerted him. He observed John scrutinize the street. Mark remained frozen, not looking at John directly, but keeping him in the corner of his eye, he saw Reese's interest in the club across the street. Mark saw John's expression change and watched as he closed his eyes for a long moment, when he opened them there was a touch of anger on his face. If Mark had not known John so well he would not have seen the change, but it was there. Mark saw John reach up and touch his right ear. He saw his lips move but it was too far to read them. Beside the fact that John had always spoken tight lipped, they all learned that in the CIA.

Mark Snow's heart skipped a beat. John Reese was working for someone, they had suspected it was Detective Carter, but what Mark was seeing here was way too covert. And Carter had remained in the parking garage when John had gotten away wounded…There was someone else. John was on the hunt that was obvious. He was tailing someone, but Mark didn't care, he wanted to know who Reese was trusting these days… Who?

Snow saw John smile and continue to talk. This was someone John trusted, then he saw John turn his interest back to the club Raven's, they all watched the tall blond woman go in. Mark faded back into the depths of the dry cleaning store and reached into his pocket. As John had finished the conversation and headed to the Club, Mark Snow started laying the trap. They were going to get their rogue CIA back…

And it had worked. John Reese was stretched out before him, laying bound to a medical back board, There was a strap across his forehead, across his chest, three straps held each arm down, one across his hips, and three across his legs.

There was an IV bag hanging from a rod, it had been hung and inserted into his right arm with-in three minutes of getting him strapped in. It would keep him quiet until they got to the safe house and then Mark Snow would get the answers he had been looking for.

A med tech leaned forward over John's prone body and lifted an eye lid. He had been monitoring his patient's vital signs; they were getting dangerously low. His hand started toward the adjuster on the tubing. A steal hand clamped on his wrist, he looked from the adjuster to a pair of cold blue eyes staring at him. He looked at Agent Snow. "I need to reduce the flow." His voice was like gravel.

"No…His body can handle it…" Snow stared at the med tech; the last thing he wanted was for John to come out of his induced sleep in this van.

"Between the overdose of the tranquilizer and the QC10, his vitals have dropped another 5%...If he goes into a coma, he won't come out…" He looked down at his patient's color. "I need to cut it back, now!" He felt Snow's grip loosen and he twisted his wrist out of his grip. He leaned in toward Snow as he turned the dial back a couple clicks. "You interfere with me again and it won't be him" He indicated with a nod of his head at his patient as he locked eyes with Snow. "You have to worry about."

Mark Snow wasn't stupid. He saw the look in those dark eyes. He knew this med tech/agent had been recruited five years ago and was one of the best when it came to mixing drugs. He also knew he had been a Green Beret, got board there and became a member of the Navy Seals and had over 30 confirmed kills on covert operations. "Dillon, his drug tolerance is extreme-."

"I can see that." Dillon Flint had turned his attention back to the monitoring machines, seeing the heart beat pick up, he ran a blood pressure check and was satisfied. He had seen the scars on his patient as he had applied the EKG tabs to his body. This guy had seen service. There was still a very fresh scar on his left side, bullet from the looks of it. He watched as all the vitals evened out. He disliked Snow's attitude, he was an arrogant idiot as far as Dillon was concerned. But, Dillon had been asked by his Chief to help Snow and Dillon would do anything for his Chief.

POI

Harold Finch looked up from his laptop as the door opened. He watched as a well dressed black woman carefully came into the room, a gun on her hip and a badge clipped to her belt.

Detective Joss Carter slipped into the room giving it a once over, she didn't trust anyone. She was a single mom of a teenager; she had military training and had been a homicide cop for several years now and was honest to a fault. Her dark eyes surveyed the room. She could tell by Harold's voice on the phone that something was wrong. She frowned. No Reese. She glanced toward the corner of the room, Reese had a way of coming out of the wood work when you least expected him.

Finch had called Detective Carter and asked her to meet him at the Public Library. He booked the room and called her back with the number. He downloaded his laptop with all the video. He left the command post, as Mr. Reese called it, and headed to the meeting with Carter. Mr. Reese was the only other person who knew about the command post and The Computer. And Harold was going to keep it that way.

He had been able to track the van to the turn pike and then had lost them. A Couple of malfunctioning cameras in a twenty mile span had caused the loss of the van. He had the van going past mile marker 127 but the next working camera, mile post 148 did not show them, it meant they had turned off some place in between. He had downloaded the area map. He was also running secondary scans in the back ground looking for any link to the area and the CIA, it was a long shot but….

"So…Harold…what's going on" She walked around the desk so that she was standing at his side, her eyes still scanned the room, then she looked back at the computer as Harold pointed to the screen.

"I need you to watch something…" His voice was anxious sounding. He gave her a sideways glance which was hard for him to do with the neck and back injures. His fingers tapped the keyboard and the image from the Petite Boutique was cued up just as John was coming out the club door. They both watched in silence as John was again shot five times.

Carter leaned forward. "Those are darts, he was tranquilized…My Lord… I can't believe he's still on his feet." She watched to the end, seeing Reese finally go down and saw Mark Snow turn around, "That's agent Snow…" she saw the female agent give him the finger… "My sentiments exactly…" She looked at Harold. "Could you follow the van?" then she had another thought, this was video surveillance. "How did you get this…?"

"Another time Detective Carter…I followed the van out onto the turn pike, I lost them-" He cued an aerial map up, he was using the image live from the US Spectral SIE satellite, the one that could read a news paper over someone's shoulder. "somewhere between mile 127 to 148, this is the area they are probably in. In the time it took you to get here I have found that there are 27 homes in this area, not very populated, and I think we can rule three of them out."

She gave him a sideways glance like he was strange little being…creepy that's what she was really thinking. She saw that he had accessed the SIE satellite seeing the link up in the corner, more then once in her military career she had seen that link. She wanted to ask how he accessed a military satellite but knew she would just get that blank stare. "That's still a lot of land to cover…I don't-."

His computer beeped, a small window popped up. Finch immediately selected the blinking window and another window popped up giving a window with small writing on it.

He tapped a couple keys and saw the search he had sent out come back with: list of names=match=cia=address=snow=%$rr148box3%…

Finch came near to jumping out of his chair. "I have a match for the area, Snow and an address." Finch adjusted his glasses. His hands flew over the computer keyboard and he brought the aerial map back up and typed in the address. The picture zoomed out, moved like it was skimming the surface and then zoomed back in the picture focused showing a very heavily wooded area, a clearing with a fair sized two story house. A black van parked at the side of it. Harold's fingers flew over the keyboard; the satellite's camera zoomed in and focused in on the license plate of the van. It was a match. Harold came to his feet stiffly; he turned to look at detective Carter. "Just tell me what you need?" He did not understand the look she gave him….

POI

John felt like his head was going to explode. He forced his muddled thinking to center on something, his heart beat; he could feel that pulsing in his chest. It was slow and steady. With determination he mastered a single thought, he was alive. Control, Way of the Warrior…Condition: he was tightly bound to something hard, he lay on his back. Awareness: He could here a monitor beeping. Path of least resistance: lay still, assess…

"I know you are awake."

He heard the gravely voice speak softly to him. The voice was down near his feet.

"Keep your eyes closed. I am going to give you something for the headache, just enough to take the edge off," The voice moved closer to his head. "Not enough to make you sleep, just comfortable…I want you comfortable John."

He tried to think through the pounding in his head….Reese, he was John Reese…He had been doing something…following someone…warmth begin to spread up his arm, he suddenly tasted something sweet…saliva filled his mouth and he had to swallow hard…concentrate…He knew this taste…Chinese sweet root…the headache lessened, the pounding in his temples slowed…the spikes of pain that had been shooting around in his brain slowed and then stopped.

He wanted to sigh but he continued to breathe as he had been…Control…control to survive…wait… assess the enemy...assess the danger.

There was a slight click in the room.

"Ok John, the lights are off, it's just the lights from the monitors…open your eyes.

He didn't want to, but he found himself blinking his eyes open, what little light that was in the room was like thousand watts of blinding light hitting him. He closed his eyes tightly, feeling tears forming under his eye lids and running down his cheeks. He clamped down on the inside of his cheek with his teeth to remain silent.

"I am sorry John, it's alright the pain will subside…" The voice was still soft with even tones. "I am going to get a few things and when I come back you'll be feeling better."

John fought the stinging pain in his eyes. It was like a thousand needles had been inserted. He tasted blood, his own; he'd bitten the inside of his cheek. Silence…Way of the Warrior...give no quarter…Focus…Make your body relax…The pain in his head eased and as it did the pain in both eyes subsided. John Reese swallowed the blood and saliva in his mouth and listened. He was not alone. It wasn't the man who had spoken to him, there was someone else in the room, he could hear their breathing, it was different then the other man.

John realized the pounding in his head was almost gone. He heard the others footsteps.

"Good John your stats are down…I'm sorry they used the dog tranquilizers on you, I didn't get there soon enough. There was a moment when the voice was silent. "Don't flinch."

John didn't react, something cool was laid along his eye lids, liquid.

"Good John, you didn't flinch… you can open your eyes again…This numbing agent will help with the pain, it was caused by to much of the dog tranquilizer, one of the bad side effects it can cause. That's it…open…blink the liquid into the eye"

John again didn't want to open his eyes but he did, he did as he was told…Fear rolled into his stomach, he did not panic. He closed his eyes and tried to squeeze them tight. Fight it…refuse command…go to safe place…do not listen…go to safe place.

"Well John I see you have detected that you are in a control induced drug-."

John blocked out the voice, blocked out the words he was hearing. He sent his mind to a memory…a memory of a long time ago.

"He knew you were in the room." Dillon looked up from the readout on the brainwave monitor to Agent Snow who was sitting across the room where he had been told to sit and be still. "I've lost him…"

Snow launched up out of the chair and his eyes narrowed at Dillon, there was anger in his movements. "I never moved…I-."

"I told you he would know someone else was in the room, that's why I wanted you in the observation booth." Dillon walked around to the hanging bags of liquid that were attached to John's arm. "Now I have to start over…it will be several hours now before I can start again" He looked across the gurney that John was strapped to. He locked eyes with Snow. "Get out…" His voice never changed pitch, but the meaning was there…

Mark Snow for one long minute wanted to stride the short distance across the semi trailer floor and put a bullet in this man, but he still needed him. He knew that torture would not get John to talk and he had heard how well Dillon Flint's methods worked. He turned and walked to the observation booth and then continued out the back of that room and out of the Semi's trailer…Snow stalked down the portable steps of the trailer and headed over the small safe house.

Dillon Flint looked down at his subject. He saw that John had gone to that place in his head where they all went when they had to flee the pain, but pain was not Dillon's method…. "You will come around…just have to mix the right cocktail…"