Hello and welcome to the tenth installment! As always, thanks for reading. I own nothing of Person of Interest except for merchandise.

Chapter 10:

Now that they had been provided with a definite location, Reese and Shaw proceeded with their objective with renewed hope and determination. The first order of business was a quick run to the hospital. John skidded to a halt outside the emergency room of the hospital closest to the library just long enough for Shaw to open the door and push the unconscious Russian out. The car peeled out as John floored the gas pedal and headed off for New York City Harbor.

The drive took minutes with Reese's aggressive driving. Soon enough, they found themselves sitting outside of the building they'd been directed to. It appeared heavily guarded—a contrast to the low number of operatives Reese had encountered in SoHo. Given Decima's dwindling presence in New York City, it was safe to assume that many of these guards were ex-feds. John turned the car's headlights off before proceeding any closer into the danger zone.

It was dark, so the pair had that element of cover to their advantage on the perimeter of the building. Inside the building would be another matter. There was no telling how many enemies they would be up against.

"I don't see any more of our government friends here, yet." John remarked, scanning the area around this part of the harbor for any unusual activity that may hint at ISA presence.

"No," Shaw confirmed as Reese carefully maneuvered the car around the back of the building, scanning for a good point of access. "…but that doesn't mean they won't be later."

Reese continued to look around the building for a weak spot in the defenses as Shaw double checked her weapons, taking the time to rack the slide on a couple of John's as well before passing them back. After a few slow passes, Reese finally found a spot where the guards were stationed thinly enough. It would require entry through the roof, though.

"Hey Shaw, how do you feel about a roof entrance?"

Shaw followed his gaze, smirking when she caught sight of the vent on top of the roof. "I love a good shaft." She ignored the subsequent look of mild disgust that Reese flashed her as she pocketed her guns.

The two ditched the car a safe distance from the building and proceeded under the cover of darkness. They easily avoided detection and made it up to the roof without a problem; navigating the innards of the mafia's building would be the real challenge. John stopped an eager Shaw from diving into the ventilation system and pressed a finger to his earpiece as one more thought occurred to him.

"We're here, Finch. They'll probably have surveillance. Can you give us a little help with that?"

Finch had stepped out of the subway for a brief moment and was just returning. He picked up Reese's transmission just as he went to put in the code on the vending machine.

"Of course, Mr. Reese. Give me just a moment."

The pair waited in silence on the roof top for the several seconds it took for Harold to get back to his desk and hack into the security system. "That's odd…" He trailed after a while, looking at the details of the accessed closed-circuit system. "It appears that someone already has."

"Root."

Moments after John had spoken the hacker's name, the pair heard the sounds of gunfire emanating from inside the building below them. John looked slightly amused while Shaw looked relieved, irritated, and worried all at once.

"Speaking of," John added while pulling out his primary firearm and chambering a round, "It sounds like your girlfriend's awake, Shaw. So much for finesse." Shaw did the same beside him, letting out annoyed grumbles as she did so. If they made it out of this scrape, she was going to hurt that woman.

"Damn it, Root."

Her tone was irritated, but even in the darkness there were traces of pride and amusement chiseled onto the assassin's features under the dim moonlight. With a shake of her head, Shaw led the way into the air duct.

This wasn't quite what she was predicting when she'd made that comment about a four-alarm fire those few months ago.

The walk down the hallway Gabriel had pointed them down was lengthy and uneventful. Root found it odd that Decima would leave prisoners with so little guard…perhaps that was in some way by design. Gabriel was an unnervingly silent companion when he wasn't instructing her on where to go; Root wasn't sure whether or not she preferred his silence.

She had been feeling a dull throb in her right ear for a while now, at least since she'd woken up. It was a reminder that She wouldn't be helping Root even if She could. By now, Root had expected that the Machine was at least partially operational again. If she wasn't hearing anything it probably meant that there were no cell phones nearby. This told her nothing of the operatives' locations; Gabriel had already informed her that none of them would have cell phones.

At least they shouldn't.

There was a faint noise as they proceeded down the hallway. It began so softly that Root wasn't even sure she was hearing it, but the more they walked, the more apparent it became. Gabriel and his youthful ears had picked up on it too, but he wasn't saying anything if he understood its meaning. Root's face brightened and a broad grin covered her face at the realization of what she was hearing. It was the same morse code that the Machine had used to communicate with her when Control had her in custody.

"I'm going to need your tazer for a second." She whispered as she held her hand out to a curious Gabriel. He reached into his pocket and passed her the weapon as the high pitched beeping became louder to both of them.

"It's talking to you, isn't it?" Gabriel questioned rhetorically and Root simply shot him a knowing smirk in response. After a few more steps, she reached to her left around a corner and brought the tazer to an operative's neck. She began to dig through his pockets for the phone as she spoke to Gabriel.

"Do you know what She's saying?"

"No." He shook his head. "I'm not fluent in Morse code."

Root pocketed the phone and the gun she found after checking the mag. "You need to get to a computer and shut down the surveillance system. I'll find the armory."

"How will you find it?"

Root grinned broadly at the boy. "How do you think?"

He shrugged and was about to get to his task when he watched Root go strangely still as the beeping continued. Her demeanor had shifted and there was an urgent look about her as she listened to whatever message she was receiving. He was intrigued by the silent exchange, maybe even a little envious. He had been the analogue interface for Samaritan, but that didn't entail much aside from acting as the avatar for the program. Anything he'd done had been an order from Greer, so this personal relationship that the woman in front of him seemed to have with her machine was foreign to him—fascinating in a way.

"What is it?" He wondered, curiosity getting the better of him. Root's serious gaze drifted over to him and he knew that she wasn't hearing anything good.

"The Russians keep a stockpile of fertilizer somewhere in this building; for the gardens at the hotel. You don't happen to know where, do you?"

That bit of information had been alarming, to say the least. There was only one reason The Machine would've directed her to find it. The building's current occupants either knew about it and planned to use it, or would find it if it wasn't disposed of. Copious amounts of ammonium nitrate in the hands of a group of ex-feds with an axe to grind against their government wouldn't end well. Unfortunately, it seemed that the boy wouldn't be of much help in this area.

"I don't. I haven't been here before today."

Root took a moment to debate her next course of action. There was still the boy to consider. What should be done with him? She still didn't trust him completely, but she was convinced enough that he was a victim in all of this. That being the case, it wouldn't be prudent to split up and leave him vulnerable. On the other hand, they couldn't proceed without shutting down security and he was free to walk the halls as he pleased at the moment. That made him the logical choice to get past the guards and to a computer. Root was also certain that the cavalry would be here soon.

"You need to find it, don't you?" Gabriel stated, looking at her with understanding in his eyes as if he knew what she was about to suggest.

She nodded. "Yes. So, why don't you go ahead to the server room…You'll need this." Root reached into her pocket and handed him his tazer, "I'll go ahead to the weapons. If the alarm hasn't been raised in the next twenty minutes, we'll meet back here and go find the fertilizer."

"And if it has?" Gabriel questioned, cocking his head to one side and squinting up at her curiously.

"I hope you're good at hide and seek, kid."

It had been half an hour since Root had separated from Gabriel and Root had found herself running down a hallway as fast as her long legs would carry her. She had made it to the weapons cache with little trouble, finding routes that enabled her to slip past cameras until they were shut off. There were a few operatives here and there that she'd had no choice but to incapacitate; that was easy enough. It wasn't until she had gotten to the weapons storage and begun to rifle through pistols that the trouble started.

The PA system, which she assumed had been installed either by the Anarchy Council or Decima, sparked to life with the ominous warning of a prisoner escape. Shortly thereafter, the thunder of boots could be heard in the hallways as previously unseen operatives began to pop out of the wood work. She stayed in the armory for as long as she could. There were at least ten men and women who came to check the area that she had been forced to dispose of before she finally chanced venturing out into the hallway.

She made it down two corridors before she ran straight into a group of eight enemies. Not surprisingly, they didn't have weapons trained on her. They wouldn't risk killing her as long as she was still valuable, but she knew that would change if she decided to start shooting. She couldn't take this many in a hand-to-hand fight, and she couldn't afford to turn the situation into a firefight before she had any backup.

So she ran.

At least she tried to.

Root turned around to see a similarly sized group approaching from the rear. She fled down a different hallway and ran until she got to the server room. Thankfully, it had two large doors and lots of cover. She barricaded herself inside and readied her weapons.

Root wondered for a moment where Gabriel had gotten off to. His handiwork was still obvious inside the room. There were four operatives sprawled out on the floor in different parts of the room, each of them with their hands bound behind their backs.

"Good work, kid." Root muttered absently as her eyes scanned over the monitors. She realized looking at the screens that he had been discovered. Either his work had been brought up on screen for everyone to see as he was doing it, or someone had noticed the malfunctioning security system. Either way, he'd obviously managed to escape for the moment. She couldn't say the same about herself just yet.

The pounding on the doors grew more persistent. Root feared it wouldn't be long before they decided she wasn't worth the trouble and tried to get rid of her. With a few more beatings, one of the two doors began to crack under the force of the sustained assault. She jumped slightly when the same door gave way and split down the middle a moment later. Light filtered into the room through the large crack and she could just make out the shape of three operatives; one held a gun in his hand.

Her jaw clenched with anticipation as the assault continued. Only a few more blows stood between her and the group of enemies on the other side. She swallowed thickly, the saliva meeting her dry throat like a single drop of water in the Mojave. Then, the light from outside in the hallway came flooding in with one final strike to the failing door and she stood face to face with twenty operatives. She was alone, outnumbered, and outgunned. Her back was almost literally against the wall. She smiled competitively and heaved a long sigh.

Root turned to Her for guidance, as she often did in difficult times. "A little help would be great right about now."

One of the operatives, the one brandishing his gun, responded with a smirk. "What kind of help do you think you're gonna get from us?"

As he spoke, the phone in her pocket vibrated a Morse code pattern giving Root an escape plan. She grinned knowingly at the man, pulling her two acquired guns out and aiming them at the group. The operatives responded in kind as she spoke, "I wasn't talking to you."

There was a moment of confusion as the statement was processed and Root took full advantage. She got four shots off and ducked into cover behind a large desk with metal siding. The operatives opened fire and began to file into the room. She quickly popped out from her cover and took out a few more, but not enough. By now, the shooting would've attracted the attention of even more operatives. She had kicked the hornet's nest and now they were all swarming in for the sting.

No matter, she had her instructions. She knew what she needed to do.

Root emerged from her cover again and fired a few rounds of suppression fire as she moved closer to her goal. She winced when one of the bullets managed to find her shoulder just before she dropped back into cover behind another desk. It wasn't serious; the bullet missed the artery. She would have to be more careful if she wanted to avoid any further wounds, though.

Slowly but surely, Root crawled her way in and out of cover toward a door at the back of the room. She quickly threw open the door and fled down the narrow hallway and waited for the operatives to follow. It was a more narrow corridor than the other open hallways in the building. Root guessed it was likely a maintenance corridor housing the guts of the building's various power sources. Sure enough, she turned a corner and spotted a piece of machinery that looked similar to an industrial water heater.

With the enemy on her trail, she continued forward, returning fire when needed, and carefully dodging it. Just as she passed the heater, The Machine gave her another set of instructions and she acted once she'd cleared the heater a safe distance. She fired a single bullet into the water heater and thick clouds of steam hissed out at the operatives. With the enemy temporarily overcome by the steam, she swiftly turned left down the nearest hallway and went about putting as much distance between herself and the most immediate threat as possible.

All was relatively quiet for a little while. The distant sounds of gunfire still echoed in the halls, which told her that her back up had arrived. She made her way closer to where the gunfire was coming from while attempting to avoid getting into another tight situation. Root followed a series of turns and then made it to a long stretch of hallway much like the hall that she'd started in. The firing stopped abruptly somewhere close to her right and she felt fear grip her gut. The fear constricted tighter and twisted as she heard footsteps behind her and then felt the sting of another bullet as the sound met her ears. The shot hit her in the back and toppled her to her knees and she flinched when there were two more shots behind her, but the thump of a body hitting the floor soon followed.

She craned her head around to see the heavenly vision of Shaw and Reese turning the corner toward her with Gabriel in tow. Shaw looked at Root with relief in her widened eyes and the hacker could almost see the frustration of the past few hours flowing out of her, and it was mutual. She'd never been this relieved to see either of the former assassins in her life…not even the first time she laid eyes on Shaw after learning she was still alive. There wasn't enough time in the world to savor that moment.

"Let's get you up." Shaw wrapped an arm around Root and lifted her to her feet while looking at her somewhat appraisingly. She was examining Root's physical state, but there was also something else in her eyes that reminded Root of what she had just been thinking about. It was as if she was making sure Root was here and safe…well, mostly safe.

"Jesus Root, you look like shit." Shaw commented, sweeping an appraising eye over her injuries and her disheveled appearance, in general.

Root smiled contentedly before firing at an approaching operative, all the while her eyes lingered on Shaw. She muttered her next phrase through gritted teeth as her back throbbed painfully. "You say the sweetest things."

Shaw simply rolled her eyes as a small smirk played across her face while John cleared his throat to break up the little reunion. They had bigger problems. "These guys seem fond of you, Root." He commented as they turned down another hallway and found themselves faced with more angry operatives. Root couldn't find it in herself to muster up a retort. All that filled her mind now was getting out in one piece. The intense throbbing in her shoulder and back also served to diminish her usual capacity for banter.

They fought their way to the middle of the current hallway in a hail of bullets and flying chips of concrete and plaster. The air was heavy with gunpowder and the floor even thicker with spent shell casings. Gabriel lingered nervously behind Reese. This was outside of his normal comfort zone, to say the least. Given the lack of cover in the hallway, there were several near misses and a few grazes here and there. Eventually, though, luck ran out and Root took yet a third bullet.

"Root!" Shaw was at Root's side even as she nailed the man responsible. Reese struggled to pick up the slack as Shaw tended to Root. She examined the wound as Root's breath came in rapid bursts and her teeth clenched in pain. She had fallen on her second bullet wound when she took this hit. It was a hit to the leg and there was far too much blood for just the couple seconds that had passed. It struck the artery. This wasn't good!

Even though she remained outwardly composed, Shaw looked at Root with horror. Panic and fear seized her as she addressed Reese.

"Quick, give me your belt."

Reese complied and Shaw quieted Root's attempts to speak as she improvised a tourniquet out of the belt. She was firm in her tone. Root would not die tonight...she couldn't. Not after the effort it took to find her. "Shut the hell up, Root." Shaw demanded as she hauled the taller woman up and helped support her weight. "You're not gonna die."

They kept on like that for several minutes. With Root severely wounded and Shaw only able to take shots here and there, John was left to do the heavy lifting. The tide had turned sharply against them and they had become a group of trout struggling to swim up stream…upstream and into the mouth of the bear, it would seem.

John was down to only a couple clips left and Shaw was occupied with trying to keep Root conscious, at this point. "I hate to say it, Shaw, but unless the unexpected happens, your efforts won't matter much in a few minutes."

She didn't give any indication that she'd heard John as she continued to coax Root to listen to her; to focus on her voice. As she spoke, Root's head periodically lolled onto her shoulder as she struggled against the blackness of sleep.

Suddenly, a gas began to emanate from the vents around them. They watched as the operatives closest to the vents fell within seconds. Shaw noticed a blue residue forming on the walls near the vents and her eyes widened with realization.

"It's cyanide!"

Root's eyes had grown fuzzy around the edges and she struggled to focus as Shaw worked around her to tear her shirt sleeves and John did the same for himself and Gabriel. "M' Sorry Sam..." She mumbled when Shaw thrust one of the torn sleeves under her nose and she failed to grasp it properly. Shaw held one sleeve tightly to Root's face and held the other to her own and the group proceeded cautiously down the hallway.

This could only mean that ISA had arrived. They had to get out, and they had to do it before there were more surprises.

Meanwhile, in the safety of the subway, Harold could only listen with baited breath as the action unfolded. He struggled to keep the grip on the cell phone in his right hand. The machine had finally retained its full functions, and with them, the ability to give out numbers. He had just received three numbers, each of them deeply troubling:

Control, Gabriel Hayward, and Root.

That's chapter ten folks! Thank you for reading, as always! Please R & R!