John helplessly concluded as he sat there that he didn't know what to do about Sam. There was no going back, of course. It was the way forward that scared him. But, he remembered seeing, so clearly, the future he wanted with Jess. She had seemed too good to be true. In some ways, she was. That thought made it a little easier for him to leave when he did. He never believed he'd been good enough for her, for anyone really.
Then there was Sam, who had repeated more than twice that no matter what he thought, he was still worth something. Maybe that's why he kept her around.
Doubtful. Sam stayed around whether he liked it or not. Amongst those other traits, she was also forceful when she wanted to be. And in some ways, she was braver than he was at times.
Sam's breathing continued steadily on as John sat next to her on the bed. Was it bravery – courage that he needed in order to face this? Somehow, he didn't think so.
He never thought that he would have been given another chance.
He moved easily, looking calm and relaxed, not like he was about to reach for a weapon. But, Sam couldn't be absolutely sure of anything that this man would do.
She took a step back. "I'm sorry, I don't know who – "
Snow held up a hand and sighed exasperatedly. "How about we set aside the pretense, Samantha? I know who you are, and I know you know who I am."
Sam squared her shoulders and kept her distance. "What do you want?"
A small, ghost of a smile passed over Snow's hardened features. "I know you have had contact with a man known as John Reese. Pretty recently, as I understand it."
More recently than you think, Sam thought. John must have left the building a different way in order to avoid being discovered.
"If you'll remember several months back, it was you we followed in order to get to him. And you delivered beautifully."
Sam swallowed down the flare of anger at his jab. "And yet, you still couldn't hold onto him."
"Yes," Snow said slowly. "You turned out to be more resourceful than expected. Does he mean that much to you?"
"You figure it out. You're the one who knows so much," Sam said.
"Not as much as I'd like," Snow sidled closer to her, but she stepped back again. "For example, I'd like to know where John is."
Sam laughed, genuinely that time. "Sorry, I can't help you." She sidestepped him, but he moved in front of her, blocking her path again.
"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be."
Sam glared hatefully at him. "You should take your own advice. I can't help you. And even if I could, I don't have to. I heard that the CIA got fed up with your crap. Your backup is gone, Snow. Now, I'd say that John has more friends than you do."
It must have been the anger that made her so snappy with him. Snow was unpredictable. He was also, as John had said, much more dangerous than before. But, she couldn't help getting in a jab at him whenever she could.
Snow's face revealed very little, but Sam was already accustomed to reading a man with rock hard facial expressions. He gave away a small flinch, and Sam took that as an indication that she'd gotten to him.
He smiled a little. "You shouldn't take everything at face value, Samantha. For example, I am still on assignment with the CIA. Only now it is more… under the radar."
Sam returned his smile. "Of course you'd say that. Either way, I can't believe a word you say."
Snow stepped forward once more, and Sam backed away, right into something very solid, directly behind her. She looked around and saw the two thugs who had been following her.
"Do you truly know who it is you're protecting?" Snow's voice darkened, just like John's did when he wanted to appear more threatening.
Sam looked back around. She was surrounded now, there was nowhere to run. Finch was still on the phone, listening. Just be cool and keep him talking.
"Yes I do," Sam said solidly. "I have a question for you, Mark." She smiled a little, her use of Snow's first name seemed to irritate him. "Do you even remember why you're hunting him? Why you want to kill him?"
Snow took another step closer. "I know him better than you think you do," he muttered.
"Aw, Mark, don't be so petty as to let a man come between us," Sam joked before she could stop herself.
"John killed his partner, you know," Snow went on, ignoring her mockery. "Her name was Cara Stanton. She was young, pretty, like you. He used her until he didn't need her anymore, and then he disposed of her."
Sam's dark eyes narrowed. Snow spoke as if he had memorized this speech. But, John hadn't spoken of his partner on that long night they had shared. He'd mentioned that he had a partner, of course, but Sam didn't even realize that it had been a woman.
"I only ask that you help me catch him before you end up on the eleven o'clock news."
Sam shrugged. "I've already been on the eleven o'clock news."
Snow's brow furrowed for a short second. His confusion quickly left his features, but it was enough to prove that he didn't know about Sam's original identity. She currently lived as Samantha Watts. The woman known as Samantha Tudin died last spring.
"I suppose there's no persuading you just yet."
Snow straightened the collar of his coat up against the cool air. He turned to leave, but looked over his shoulder once at the two thugs. "Don't let her scream," he said.
Before Sam could take a breath, a large hand covered her mouth, and another arm came tightly around her middle. Panic rose up in her like a geyser. The fear nearly overpowered her until her brain snapped back to one of the defense training sessions she'd had with John.
Squeezing her eyes shut, Sam jammed her elbow into the ribs of her captor, then slammed her boot down onto his instep. He grunted and his grip loosened as her fist swung down and made violent contact with his groin.
He groaned and released Sam.
Before the other could make a grab for her, Sam ran out of reach. Her escape, however, was short lived. An arm blocked her path, and pulled her away from the street lights.
"Don't make this difficult for me," Snow whispered in her ear.
He'd twisted her arm behind her back, and clamped a gloved hand around her throat. He was surprisingly strong for his slight figure.
The two thugs approached them, one with a limp. As they did so, a faint noise Sam hadn't noticed earlier grew louder. It was an engine. It came closer, sounding like a motorcycle.
The sound closed in on them until a single light sped around the corner, and headed straight toward the four people on the sidewalk.
"I had a feeling he'd come for you," Snow muttered. "I didn't think it would be so quick. It appears you're still very useful to him."
He released her throat and pulled a handgun from under his coat, pointing it at the oncoming motorcyclist.
Sam screamed with pain in her twisted arm as she forced Snow backwards against the wall, throwing his aim off. The weapon fired high and right.
The motorcycle jumped the curb and skidded toward Sam and Snow. The rider reached out a gloved hand and smacked Snow over the head with something as he passed them. Dazed, Snow backed up against the wall of a building as the motorcycle drifted, and skidded to a halt, sitting protectively in between Sam and the two convicts, who backed away.
The driver stood, straddling the motorcycle and drew a weapon, pointing it at Elias' men. Sam watched as his other hand extended towards her, he waved her toward him with his fingers.
She didn't have to be told twice. Hiking up her skirt, Sam ran to the bike, and swung her leg over the back of the seat.
The motorcyclist fired his weapon four times, hitting each thug in both legs. He then took his seat, and hit the gas.
Sam lunged forward, grabbing onto him for dear life as they skidded back around the street corner, her white dress flapping out behind them.
His decision to take the motorcycle rather than the large Lincoln sedan was a good one, John concluded after they escaped. Although he preferred not to ride it while wearing one of his suits, it made for a much more efficient getaway. Snow and those men had fired off a few more futile gunshots after them, but hadn't bothered to follow.
John entered HQ with Sam following not far behind. He strode into the room, setting the helmet on the desk as Finch turned around in his desk chair. He lifted his eyebrows and John nodded – he'd been successful.
Finch nodded in return and turned back to the computer monitors on the desk as Sam stomped in. She marched herself right up to John and pointed a finger at him so closely, that it was in danger of going up his nose.
"What the hell was that, Reese?" she snapped at him.
Her Princess Leia buns were falling out, and her white dress was smudged with dirt. Include that with her flushed cheeks and pissed off expression, it would have been an amusing sight if she didn't look like she wanted to murder him.
John leaned away from her a little as Finch turned back around in his chair, the better to witness the drama. "You're welcome," John said smartly.
All that got him was a sharp slap across the face. It caught him completely by surprise, and it must have shown on his face because Sam looked like she regretted it immediately afterward.
"Sam!" Finch said sharply.
"Are you insane?" She asked instead of apologizing. "Snow wants you dead, and you go and show up right in front of him like that!"
John bent over a little so he was eye level with her. His intensity made her back up a step. "Would you have preferred I let him use you as bait? Because that is the only reason you're still alive. He wants to use you to get to me, and that's all he wants you for."
The news flash seemed like a slap in itself. Sam lowered her hand and backed away from him, her eyes large, scared.
John sighed and rubbed a hand on his left cheek. It was hot to the touch. "Look, Sam, when it concerns Snow, you are in as much danger with him as I am. You took a shot at him last spring."
"If you'd let me kill him, we wouldn't be in this mess," Sam said stubbornly.
John rolled his eyes. "You would have regretted it. And that's something you can't take back." He still got a bit of a chill thinking about that laser site on Snow's temple. She would have done it too. Sam would have killed someone to save his, John's, life.
Sam glared at him once more, and began taking her hair down.
"Let's just be grateful that the both of you are all right. Acceptable?" Harold Finch said reasonably.
"Yes," John and Sam said simultaneously.
"Now, I think you'll both remember that we have work to do."
John looked at Sam. She returned his gaze and they both suppressed a grin, looking quickly away from each other. The longer John knew Finch, the more he seemed like a mildly scolding college professor. He had the wardrobe down perfectly. And the sarcastic, guilt inducing jargon Finch used was also uncanny.
Sam set the fake hair on the windowsill, and ruffled her hands through her real hair as it spilled over her shoulders in thick, dark waves.
"I don't know, Harold," she said lightly. "Donnelly's a trained FBI agent. Don't you think he can take care of himself?"
"Are you asking to opt out of this one, Miss Watts?" Finch turned his birdlike stare upon her and John watched her wither.
"No, of course not," she muttered.
"This is more of a delicate situation. That's why we wanted to track Agent – "
John cleared his throat, and looked up at the ceiling.
"Fine, Mister Snow," Finch shook his head. "We wanted to track him first as he is our first suspect."
"Found him," Sam said.
"Yes, and now, thanks to the two of you and the circumstances, we can track him anywhere." Finch pulled up a GPS map on one of the screens. John and Sam leaned in for a closer look. Just as he said, there was a small red dot on the screen heading uptown as far as John could tell.
"You marked him?" Sam asked.
John nodded. It had been a brilliant stroke on Finch's part, though half of the ideas Finch had seemed to be brilliant strokes.
He never thought he'd have a chance to get the small, almost undetectable marker on Snow. But, an opportunity presented itself beautifully. In that small second when Sam had pushed Snow away as he fired his weapon, John took the opening. They had stumbled, and John saw his chance to put the marker on Snow, while at the same time, teach him a lesson for messing with a friend of his.
He had smacked Snow hard on the back of the head, also sticking the thin, transparent GPS marker on his neck as he passed on the motorcycle. It had been easier than expected. Now, as long as Snow continued on unaware, they could track him wherever he went.
Sam raised her dark eyebrows, clearly impressed. "Well, we've got Snow covered it looks like."
"For now," Finch said.
"But why was he with Elias' men?"
"I'm sure he can use all the help he can get, these days," Finch said.
"That's comforting. So, what about Donnelly?"
"Well, Lionel's been a little whiny about what I've given him to do lately. I thought I'd spice things up for him a little," John said and winked over Finch's head at Sam, who smiled.
It was the best they could do for now. Lionel was the only one of their little group that Donnelly didn't know by sight. Well, there was Finch as well, but John didn't want to have Finch's face as well known as his was in government circles.
Lionel would keep an eye on Donnelly until they figured out more of the details.
The webcam on the other end of the line wobbled as it was adjusted, and his boss came into the frame, looking disgruntled as usual.
"This had better be good," he said, his voice coming through clearly through the phone speaker.
"That other guy you wanted me to track down, the Fed who was after our guy, the Special Ops."
"Yes?"
"He's looking into things he's not supposed to."
"What things?"
"He's digging deeper into Special Ops. Just started doing it a couple days ago. With his access, he might stumble onto some things he shouldn't."
"You started tailing him because you thought he'd lead to this... Special Ops, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then let him lead you there, and don't call me again until you have some solid results. If he digs too deep, you know our procedures."
"I do, sir."
The picture on his phone went dark, and the connection was cut.