The last four hours seemed more like eight for Rachel. She had certainly gotten a good workout walking back and forth to check on Reese and pacing around her couch when she wasn't checking on him.

For Reese, the last four hours felt more like an eternity. He was exhausted. He'd tried every position he could think of to try to ease the pressure in his chest and stop coughing – even hanging off the end of the bed – and nothing worked.

He was quite sure that Rachel had run out of helpful ideas as well. He could see how worried she was. He was slowly coming to the realization that he needed to contact Finch and request an extraction.

For goodness sake, Reese, there's no need to use that kind of language. You are not in a hostile situation. Forget your training for once and just ask for help like a normal person, John thought. If only it were that easy for him.

While Reese was thinking about contacting Finch, Rachel was busy looking up more home remedies online.

I think you are done-for, Rach. There isn't anything left for you to try except acupressure and acupuncture and you are NOT going to try those on Reese. Time to face the facts. You failed. He must go back to the hospital.

She needed to steel herself for a barrage of excuses that she was sure Reese would throw at her. She paced for a few minutes then gave up and headed to the kitchen. She decided to make a meal for herself, figuring that would give her plenty of time to create counters for every excuse Reese could throw at her.

She started to walk into the kitchen when she noticed that it had gotten very quiet in the bedroom. She opened the door very carefully and peeked. She couldn't help but smile at what she saw. Reese was finally asleep… with his feet resting on top of the headboard and his head tilted back slightly off the edge of the bed. She resisted the urge to enter the room and cover him up with a blanket because she was afraid she'd wake him.

She closed the door quietly and headed to the kitchen, giggling at the new sleeping position Reese discovered. I have no idea how he got into that position or what made him think it would help him sleep, but he's certainly earned the award for oddest sleeping position!

"Okay. What to eat? What to eat?" Rachel said aloud as she tapped her fingernails on the open fridge door. How are you going to convince Reese to go back to the hospital? He can refuse care if I call an ambulance. "Oh forget it," she moaned as she shut the fridge door and reached for the jar of peanut butter and bread.

While making her sandwich, she had a "eureka" moment.

"Ah ha!" She said it so loudly she slapped her hand over her mouth. If he's asleep, he can't protest. He is so exhausted it just might work." She took her sandwich and sat on the couch – still thinking about her plan. "Could they really get Reese onto a gurney without waking him?" she wondered aloud.

Finch heard her. He and Rachel were both on the same page, and he took it as a sign to get Reese out now and take him to the clinic. He brainstormed plans for extraction. "Extraction." He grinned slightly and had a gleam in his eyes. He was thinking like a secret agent. If he weren't so concerned about Reese, he would've spent more time enjoying his evolution.

It only took him about 2 minutes to devise a plan and 15 seconds to discover a hiccup. He couldn't call Rachel because she left her phone in the bedroom and he didn't want to wake Reese. He hoped Rachel's "A sleeping Reese is a cooperative Reese" theory was correct. Finch bit his lower lip as he contemplated his options.

He felt the steely stare of Bear burning a hole in head. "I know, Bear. I haven't forgotten about Elias or the fact that your are now a 'dog of interest', but Reese is my priority at the moment." He stopped typing and slowly turned his chair so he could look directly at Bear and asked, "You aren't the perpetrator, are you?" Bear huffed and grunted then put his paws over his head. "I didn't think so, Bear, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't ask."

Finch opted to use a messenger to deliver a phone to Rachel. He was just setting his plan in motion when he realized he didn't have the time. The monitors showed Rachel had her phone by her side. He didn't think he'd been away from the monitors long enough for that to happen, but at least it made his job easier.

"Ms. Ezhno?" Finch asked when she answered the phone.

"This is she," Rachel replied.

"Ms. Ezhno, my name is Mr. Finch and I am a friend of Mr. Reese."

Ah, so Reese IS his surname, she mused.

"Mr. Finch, how may I help?"

"Actually, I'm hoping you will let me help you AND Mr. Reese. I know he's a very sick man…"

"How do you know that, Mr. Finch?" Rachel asked with just a hint of nervousness in her voice.

"He sent me a text," was Finch's sketchy reply.

After a pregnant pause, a skeptical Rachel replied, "Alright, Mr. Finch. You must know that he is stubborn, so how are we going to help the very sick and very stubborn Mr. Reese?"

Finch advised her that he would send a private ambulance to retrieve Reese and there would be no objections from him. "He'll be on the way to the hospital in about 30 minutes," Finch said as he concluded the outline of Operation: Extract Reese.

He spoke with such authority and finesse that he easily won her confidence. She confirmed the details with him and asked that he have the medics knock on the door rather than use the doorbell. "There's no sense in waking Reese up any earlier than necessary," Rachel stated. Finch agreed and then terminated the call.

Rachel plopped down on the couch and let out a heavy sigh. "I'm going to miss feeling useful," but not for long.

She was adrift in thought when the doorbell startled her. Doesn't anyone follow instructions anymore?

As she opened the door she said, "You guys were supposed to …" but she didn't get the chance to finish her sentence.