Sorry for the delay – my eldest graduated this weekend. It's been a bit hectic.

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Tag to the Tag 3
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Before he knew it, they were landing on the roof of a hospital and for once, Finch didn't care which one it was.

Staff flooded out of the hospital to meet them and both men were rushed inside.

Finch meant to follow, but Ben stopped him, obviously prepared to continue his protests. His partner and the pilot stood behind him. They may have been less vocal but they were no less angry.

Finch took a deep breath and spoke before they could begin. "As long as you continue to cooperate in these matters… Benjamin, in addition to the funds given to the three of you by my associate-" He glanced around at all of them "Which can be considered a legal, anonymous donation, divide it amongst yourselves as you like…" He turned back to Ben specifically. "Your sister's care will be paid for for the next two years." He then turned to the partner. "Allen, continue to cooperate in this matter and no one will ever know what happened on the night of July 16th, 2009. All evidence will be destroyed." Then, to the pilot, he said, "The woman who was about to be hired in your place, has been given the opportunity to work at a hospital in Maryland, and you have just become the owner of this aircraft," he gestured at the chopper, "making you indispensable to this facility for as long as you want to continue working here." He looked at each disbelieving face. "Do we have a problem, gentlemen?"

One by one they all turned away shaking their heads.

Finch found his way to a waiting area and settled his stiff muscles into an uncomfortable chair with a cup of hot but terrible tea from a vending machine. He felt as if he would never be warm again.

What would he do if they lost John?

'I won't be around forever… '

They were in the middle of a war. He had very strong doubts that he, Fusco and Root would be sufficient to the task at hand. They needed John… or someone like him? The thought of trying to replace John…? Even if he wanted to, he had no time to locate, vet, and hire someone… And he really, really didn't want to.

John could not be replaced.

His short list of potential employees - once carefully maintained - had long since fallen into neglect. In fact, he couldn't remember the last time he'd even looked at it.

In the very beginning, he'd had high hopes that John would be the ideal partner in his work - and John had far surpassed allhis expectations. Finch's list of qualifications had included needs and wants. Skills his employee absolutely must have, but also characteristics that would make it easier for Finch to work with him or her. John had all of them and more. Not only was he highly skilled and capable, he'd never seen the work they do as a paycheck - or a way to meet girls. He'd never seen it as a game, or treated any of the numbers poorly - unless of course, they deserved it - in which cases, Finch had wholeheartedly agreed.

John almost always held the advantage, physically and intellectually - but was both strong and humble enough to not feel a need to press it. Finch had seen this himself - he sometimes got the feeling he was offering explanations John didn't really need. But he had seen it most often with Miss Shaw. The woman had a rather large chip on her shoulder, but John had not felt a need to knock it off. Instead he had respected her and her abilities and allowed her to do as she liked, sometimes with quiet amusement.

Finch smiled softly as he remembered John's concession of simply making noise as he approached. He didn't normally make much noise when he moved - a habit born out of survival in the field. But he always remembered to when he approached Finch. It was the little things like that Finch knew he could never replace.

And, most importantly, since they'd begun their work together, John had not killed a single person unless there had been absolutely no choice. Even in those cases, it haunted him. Finch could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. The work they did was a redemptive process for him and every life lost (no matter how deserving of death they might be) was a step back - the same as it was for Finch.

And they had - unexpectedly - become friends.

Yes, he reaffirmed to himself, John was one of the people the world could not afford to lose. The fact he would never see that as true himself, made it all the more so.

He was also the one person Finch could not afford to lose.

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Hours later, Fusco and Root found him, still sitting in an uncomfortable chair, nursing his third cup of hot-but-awful tea.

"Hear anything, yet?" Fusco asked.

Finch shook his head. "Mr. Reese is still fighting for his life." He responded dismally, and shivered. "But he is… alive." He looked up at each of them in turn. "What of our crime scene?"

"We figured it would be easiest if nobody knew Mr. Happy was ever there. So we did a little set dressing." He handed over John's .45 they'd found on the floor in the house.

"Please," Finch shook his head. "You hold on to it for him."

Tucking the weapon back into his belt, Fusco continued. "Found his back-up piece in the car before we ditched it where no one will find it or the blood all over the seat. We cleaned the prints off the gun, and left it on the porch but you'll have to make it look like it was registered to Chase some time previously. Nutella said you could do that?"

Finch nodded.

"Good. Then the local sheriff will believe Chase managed to shoot the guy after he made him OD. Only issue is Patterson - he's gotta know Dark and Stormy was there. What are we gonna do about him?"

Finch answered softly without looking up. "We will simply explain to him that while Detective Riley was investigating his case, he was stricken with a virulent illness. An illness that prevented the detective from ever making it out to the cabin. With the amount of drugs in his system it's possible he may not remember John being there. And if he does… well… we did save his life. He will simply need to be convinced. The story will also serve to explain John's absence to his colleagues at the station."

Root sat next to Finch and patted his leg. "I'll stay and talk to Chase when he wakes up. I still need to plant gunshot residue on his hands so I'll establish myself as his friend to the doctor... You'll be busy with John's care… we can't stay here long."

While Finch looked at Root with apprehension, sharing her concern that Samaritan would soon locate them here, Fusco nodded in satisfaction. "That's that, then. End of story. Carter's case - all neatly tied up in a bow. That oughta make our mutual friend feel good about the universe."

"Speaking of John," Root inquired. "I know you haven't heard much since you got here - how was he when you arrived?"

Finch continued to stare down at the floor just past his knees. "It took them quite some time to get his heart started again. It never did achieve a normal rhythm." His voice was small. "He was too cold."

Fusco grimaced and went to get himself a cup of coffee. They all still felt the chill.

Just then one of the doctors in Finch's folder came out to them. "Mr. Wren..." He paused upon seeing the others.

"This is Chase's doctor." Finch introduced him. "We spoke earlier."

Root interrupted. "I'd really like to see Chase. May I?" She asked.

The doctor opened his mouth to protest, but then remembered the information the man before him held. Information that could end his career. "Of course."

Root smiled sweetly and left.

"Mr. Patterson will make a full recovery once the drugs are out of his system. He will remain here for 48 hours' observation and then be transferred to a care facility of which his estate is part owner. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes, thank-you. Very." Finch responded politely. "Is there any news of Mr. Randolph?" Finch had registered John under yet another alias in hopes of delaying Samaritan.

The doctor sighed, obviously loathe to be the bearer of anything but good news. "His is not my case. But I can tell you that his condition is precarious. A human body chilled to that extent is extremely fragile - the smallest thing can disrupt the body's systems. But the staff here are excellent and are taking every precaution. The good news is that if he survives the next few hours it is highly likely that he will recover completely with no negative side effects other than some sensitivity to cold."

He looked up as Root returned wiping her hands on a paper towel.

"If you'll excuse me, I have other patients." And he left.

Both Fusco and Finch looked expectantly at Root. "GSR is all taken care of." She smiled and got her own cup of coffee. "Did he know anything about John?"

"Nothing." Finch told her and stood. "Please excuse me, I must make arrangements for John's care as soon as he can be moved. It's not safe here." He did not mention that they still did not know if 'further care' would be necessary. They still did not know if John would survive long enough to need it.

Finch chose not to think of it. It was better to simply assume that he would.

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TBC…
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