I have noticed at least three stories and one fan video that all have the same basic premise. This is one of the stories. I believe we all just came up with the same idea. Great minds think alike. I wonder if season 5 will run along the same lines.

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July 12th
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Jolted into action, Finch moved to the passenger side door. "Get in. I will direct you." Knowing they would need the light from the car's headlights, he directed Sievert to where Root continued to work over John.

The car bumped over the curb and drove as close to the small group on the shore as possible. The doctor parked the car where the headlights would provide the best illumination, got out, grabbed a large bag from the back seat and hurried over to John.

Shaw had dragged herself over as well, and was doing her best to assist. Both women accepted the doctor's presence without comment. Both were too desperate and tired to do anything else.

Finch stared, wide-eyed and wondered at the doctor's presence. Had the Machine sent him? It must have. But how? Who was this man? Why was he helping them - no questions asked?

Eventually Root sat back on her heels and watched as Shaw assisted the doctor in stabilizing John.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Finch saw the doctor say something to Root who stood and made her way towards him. "It's not as bad as we feared. John had a vest on. He was shot from too close for it to stop the bullet completely, but it slowed it down enough to save his life. Your friend there says John will be ready to move soon and we should try to find something we can use for a stretcher." Root shot the doctor a look. "Where'd he come from, anyway?"

Finch wasn't really listening to her, though because he suddenly remembered seeing an old cot in the shack he'd explored earlier. He turned and began limping in that direction.

Root followed. "Harold?"

Without slowing or turning he answered. "I have no idea. He said he got a text. Could the Machine have sent it?"

Root scowled. "I guess we better hope so."

"A ringing payphone led me to meet him…"

But then they were entering the shack. Finch went straight to the old cot and gestured. "Will this do?"

Root smiled a small smile and ran her hands over it quickly, checking to make sure it wouldn't fall apart just when they needed it most. "This is perfect. Let's go."

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Finally the ragged group reached the subway where they scrambled to set up something of a sick room. Under their carefully crafted cover identities, they had mostly been able to use typical medical services when they'd needed them. There had only been a few exceptions, so both Root and Shaw were surprised to see how much medical equipment Finch had managed to squirrel away.

Trying to ignore their questioning looks as he set up a pulse oximeter next to the defibrillator, Finch simply murmured, "Only the paranoid survive…"

Root and Shaw exchanged looks, and then shrugs, and continued to assist the doctor.

It was a good thing they had because suddenly Dr. Sievert said, "He's crashing!" He looked to Finch with a rather desperate look on his face. "What meds do you have here? I need epinephrine - adrenaline?!" He turned to Shaw. "Prep the defibrillator!"

Finch moved as quickly as he could to a case filled with medicines. He brought it over and Sievert pawed through it quickly, grabbing the appropriate bottle and preparing a syringe.

"Uh… Doc?" Shaw spoke from where she stood on the other side of John, watching the monitoring equipment. "He's stable."

Sievert paused and looked. Then he put the unopened bottle away and disposed of the syringe. Frowning, he resumed his efforts.

Eventually he straightened, turned, took a deep breath and addressed them. "Reese is stable for the moment." He was not surprised to see three shocked looks at his use of John's name. "I know you don't know who I am. And I know you have no reason to trust me. But you must believe that I am here simply to try to save this man's life. He is not out of the woods yet. We very nearly lost him twice, only to have him somehow rally... He's a fighter.
Our next step has to be getting that bullet out of his chest. It's not deep, but with the complications from his near drowning, we will have to be careful.
Miss Shaw will assist me. Mr. Finch, you will monitor John's condition and provide us with any supplies. Miss Groves, I suggest you keep your gun pointed at me at all times since no one here should be comfortable with me holding John's life in my hands."
He looked across at Shaw. "If you see me do anything that would harm John. Tell her to shoot me." Glancing around at the three he asked, "Everyone comfortable with the arrangement?" When there was no response, he finished, "Then let us begin."

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Many hours later, three exhausted people sat near John's unconscious form. Shaw had, at Root's insistence, and Finch's encouragement, gone to lie down for a few hours. She was more drained than any of them.

Root continued to half-heartedly point her pistol at the doctor who sat with his head back against the wall and his eyes closed. He seemed to understand that he was at their mercy. "How's your arm, Harold?" She asked softly, stifling a yawn.

They had managed to bandage each other's wounds while Shaw and the Doctor had worked on John. Both of them would need further attention, but as the wounds were far from life-threatening, both felt they could wait.

"It's fine." Harold answered. "I don't think it will need stitches. You on the other hand…"

"Sameen can look at it when she wakes up." Root answered dismissively.

"You should both have some antibiotics." Sievert spoke without opening his eyes. "Soaking an open wound in the East river isn't the best way to avoid infection." He raised one eyebrow in question and looked over at them. "If you trust me, I can prescribe something."

But Finch had already hauled himself to his feet and was crossing the room to the case of meds he'd opened earlier. "No need. Antibiotics are one thing I have become quite familiar with over the years." He handed Root some pills and a bottle of water. He also took some for himself and returned to his seat where he could observe John. "Is he going to be okay, Doctor?"

Root frowned at the question because she was of the opinion that they should be questioning the doc about other things - like where on earth did he come from? - but she waited.

Sievert closed his eyes and lay his head back once again. "I think so. As I mentioned, he's gone over the precipice more than once while in my... care, only to stabilize once again. You saw it happen. I've never seen anything like that before. Quite frankly, it's not normal. It's not even human. I can't imagine how he's doing it. It's almost as if…"

"It's almost as if he was getting an injection of adrenaline each time." Shaw stood leaning against the door jamb. She was bleary-eyed and obviously in need of more sleep, but they all were. And none of them were going to get it until they had some answers - until they knew John was going to live.

Shaw moved towards John as she directed the doctor. "Check his right shoulder. It's his most recent wound."

The doctor stood wearily and moved to do as she asked. Finch and Root just frowned, puzzled.

Shaw explained as she watched Sievert. "I couldn't sleep, so I was thinking about what our mysterious doc here just described. He's right. It's exactly as if John were getting an automatic injection of a powerful stimulant every time he nearly dies. That shouldn't be possible - unless…"

Sievert was examining the mostly healed scar on John's shoulder, a souvenir from his time up north. "You're right. This was recently, surgically opened. It's skillful work - barely detectable unless you know what you're looking for." He looked up at the group, hoping for an explanation, but even if they'd had one, they weren't about to share it with him.

Instead, they looked at each other. FInally, Finch took charge and spoke to the two women. "Unlike at the library, I have nowhere to detain him securely while we investigate. But there are far too many questions, and while I'm sure Mr. Reese could answer most of them, I fear he may not be able to for some time.
I do not trust the doctor any more than either of you, but he has done nothing but help us so far. I suggest that we restrain him here, near John, where he can continue to monitor his condition, while we conduct our own investigations."

Shaw nodded. "I'll lock him up."

"Please be certain that he is able to rest as well. We may yet need him to assist in John's care."

She grimaced, but went to do as Finch had said. The doctor meekly put out his wrist for the cuffs. He'd expected a lot worse.

When she was finished, they gathered in another part of the subway, out of earshot of the doctor.

Root grimaced and sat down dejectedly.

""Miss Groves?" Finch asked in concern.

She looked up at him. "I'm glad John's okay. But… I can't help thinking that all of this is over. We can't possibly continue helping the numbers now. Our cover identities are ruined."

Finch consoled her. "We cannot know that for certain - it's simply too soon. We must continue to gather facts."

Root gazed back at him for a long while. Finally she sighed. "Okay. Then the first question is.. Who IS this guy? Where did he come from? How did he know we needed help?"

Finch shook his head helplessly. "He said he received a text telling him to be there. I assumed it came from the machine. I have no other explanation. As to his identity, I will research that immediately."

Shaw added, "What about John? I have a theory, but I'd need some sort of imaging equipment to test it since I really don't think he should go through another surgery right now. I don't suppose you have an X-ray machine?" She challenged Finch.

Finch stared at her. "You think something was implanted? Inside him?" He asked incredulously.

She shrugged. "It's possible. Unlikely - but possible. And it would explain some things."

He shook his head. "I have a small portable ultrasound. Would that do?"

Shaw nodded. "It should."

Root concluded. "Sounds like we have our first steps. We need to get this figured out fast. For all we know, the good doctor could be a spy for Samaritan, and we led him right here!"

"Oh please!" Shaw protested. "Do you think I would have let him anywhere near this place without making sure he didn't have a tracker on him? And if it turns out he's not on our side…"

Finch looked at her with concern.

She shrugged. "He won't be leaving here alive."

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TBC...
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