A/N Carter finally wakes, and a few interesting conversations take place in this chapter. Thank you to Fanu for your beta help. Hope I make you 'comma' proud. If not, I tried, LOL. Hope you enjoy this offering.

**Disclaimer ~ I don't own Person of Interest or its characters.

When Carter finally woke up, it was a gradual return to consciousness. It was nothing like the startled fit she had when the water had been thrown in her face, but rather it was an ease from a restful sleep. The entire room was white; the towels, the walls, even the furniture and bed linens. She was clad in a white hospital gown, but she knew this was no regular hospital. It was a private facility, government owned, but she had no idea just where it was.

It was the second time since she'd left Williamsburg that she'd been taken somewhere and hadn't known how she'd gotten there. Not being in charge didn't sit well with her; being lied to and taken advantage of made her even angrier. Instead of sending her on a real mission and giving her a chance to really show him her capabilities, Snow had had her kidnapped and tortured for reasons she didn't have the first clue about. She couldn't describe how deeply angry she was, or how badly she wanted to get back at him.

She got out of bed slowly and headed to the bathroom. In the dim light of the room she saw that a small assortment of toiletries was laid out for her; soap, toothpaste, a towel and a toothbrush. She took advantage of them and washed up at the sink. The warm water drained from her face to her torso, and she finally switched the light on. She gasped at her reflection as her eyes took in the bruises on her face and body.

"My God…"

She spun round looking at her torso, her back, and her legs. Her hands ran over the ridges on her skin left behind by the lashes of the rope when they hit her body. She closed her eyes as memories of that moment came back vividly. It made no sense that she'd survived, and yet she had. Something inside her had pushed her to carry on when someone else would have given up. She used the washcloth to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes, and brushed her hair back from her face. Wherever she was now, they'd given her some really good painkillers. Besides being sore in a few places, she was mostly pain free. Even so, she didn't have any gratitude toward whomever it was that was being so benevolent to her at the moment, especially if they had anything to do with Mark Snow.

Snow. They needed to talk about this. And she didn't feel in the mood to talk, not really. As she exited the bathroom, she opened the cabinet by the bed. The small back pack with a change of clothes that she'd had in Williamsburg on the helicopter was there. She ignored the complaint of her sore muscles as she quickly put them on, and she slipped her feet into her boots. Her watch was on the table beside her bed, and she fastened it securely to her wrist. She heard movement outside her room and the door slowly opened. She reached for the small knife that was sheathed in a compartment near the zipper of her right boot. It was no longer than her index finger from hilt to tip, but the blade was sharp and dangerous nonetheless.

Her doctor entered the room, but she had no interest in being examined. It was time to check out.

"Do you know that she didn't even try to escape until Peck mentioned you?"

Reese idly traced his finger across the edge of the desk and Snow went on and on giving him a glowing recollection of how Carter had been tortured. The tone in which he spoke was almost one of a proud father who was happy about his child's good grades.

"I think she has a soft spot for you. Reminds me of you and Kara."

"She's nothing like Kara," Reese replied.

"No, she's not. But she's everything like you."

Reese looked up as Snow walked over to him. He was disgusted by the look on his face. He was positively gleeful; not caring at all that they'd almost killed her.

"Come to think of it, she nearly beat your time. It's almost like you two were in sync, even in the way you two tried to get out. Except you killed a few more people on your way out when you were leaving."

"This is nothing more than a game to you, isn't it? Moving people around like chess pieces on a board."

"Everybody had to go through it. You, me, Kara, Wilson, we all did. So she's not exempt."

Snow was completely unapologetic, and suddenly Reese felt sick to his stomach for being part of what they had just put her through. He hadn't been able to stop Snow, but he should have given her a heads up, a warning of some type, anything. But he'd stood mute and hadn't uttered a word. Now he feared she would never trust him again.

She was different than Kara. They hadn't started out together, but he was the first partner in the Agency Carter would have. The professional tone of their relationship would be forever marred by this experience, and the personal development that had so sweetly begun the night before she was taken would most likely end up being just as fractured. He lamented the latter most of all.

"She'll be a better agent, a very dangerous weapon against the enemies of our country."

"You know," Reese said, as he got up from his chair, "I live for the day when you stop thinking about us as weapons."

"Where are you going?"

"To see Carter."

Reese's hands were on the door knob, but it opened suddenly from the other side. Another agent came in and whispered in Snow's ear before leaving.

"What is it?" asked Reese.

"Carter's left the safe house."

Carter sat outside Snow's building, waiting for him to come home. It was late, almost 2:30 in the morning, but she wasn't the least bit tired. She'd been there for the last twenty minutes, but she was prepared to wait all night if she had to. She looked at the cheap bottle of whiskey in the brown bag on the seat next to her. She considered taking a drink to calm her nerves, but thought better of it. She needed to be alert and ready when Snow appeared.

Earlier, the combination of a knife at his throat and Carter's promise to use it convinced her doctor to help her in any way she needed. Once outside her room she realized it wasn't a hospital at all; it was a safe house. He helped her gain access to the small armory there, and she procured a handgun and some ammunition. They took his car and drove to a local bank and she made him withdraw funds from his account. After knocking him out and ditching both him and the vehicle, Carter took possession of another one. She drove to Krosno, a Polish city not more than fifty three miles east of Ukraine. She hadn't spoken to her in weeks, but she had a contact there she believed she could trust. She just hoped that Amelia was still in town.

She'd expected to be taken back to the U.S., but apparently they'd all remained here. She wondered why. What else did Snow have planned on his agenda? She questioned the doctor, but he didn't know much. He was able to provide her with Snow's address but not much else about his reasons for wanting to stay here in Poland.

Her gloved hands were clenched tightly on the steering wheel as she saw him come into view. He got out of his car, and in the chill of the night he raised the collar of his coat around his ears. He walked into his building, keys in hand and when he got to his floor she saw the lights come on by his window. She waited a few minutes, allowing him to get comfortable and ready for bed. She wanted to catch him off guard, unsuspecting. By now he'd know she'd disappeared, and he'd be wondering where she was. Hopefully he believed that she was long gone, on her way back to the US instead of right outside his building.

Another ten minutes passed, and she got out of the car. She quietly made her way up the stairs and slipped into his apartment, surprised by how easily it was to pick his locks. She could hear the shower running, steam came from the opened bathroom door, and she got her gun out, holding it in front of her. She pushed the door open, but his hand shot out hitting her on the arm in an attempt to disarm her. He'd known someone was in the house.

He was just about to get into the shower, the fact confirmed by his nudity. It was a disadvantage however, and as he reached out to strike her in the face, she kneed him between the legs. He stumbled backwards as she hit him in the face, the blow hitting his upper lip and nose. He lunged forward pushing her against the vanity. She grunted at the pain but the agony did nothing more than fuel her anger and she elbowed him in the back. He fell to the ground and she connected the toe of her boot to this side of his rib twice. He cried out in pain, but she ignored it. She pinned him underneath her, and pressed her weight on his arms and chest so he could hardly breathe. He was immobilized now, struggling to get free and she struck him in the face twice. She broke the skin on his cheek and something inside her was happy to see the blood slowly ooze from it.

"What do you want?" he asked almost defiantly.

With a Balaclava over her head, only her eyes were visible; he had no idea who his attacker was. She pressed the barrel of her gun to his temple, but instead of squinting he looked her squarely in the eyes, almost as if he'd expected to die like this one day. In fact, he looked almost as if he welcomed it.

He'd been responsible for putting her through four days of pure hell. Her life had hung in the balance because of him, and he deserved to die. Her hand started to shake, and all she could feel was rage for everything he'd subjected her to. Instead of shooting him, she punched him again, and took joy in his pain.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right now?" she asked him.

His eyes widened as he recognized her voice. "Carter?"

She was further incensed when a chuckled started to rumble in his throat. She cocked her gun and the laughter died on his lips.

"Give me one good reason, Snow!"

"You're angry; I understand. And I have to give you props for coming here. Can't say I didn't expect it. You've done every single thing I've expected since the beginning."

"You don't know anything about me," Carter said through clenched teeth.

"Except I do. I know every detail, every flaw. I know how good you are, how good you've been, and I know exactly how good you can be. It's why I picked you."

"You sent me to hell!"

"And I make no apologies for it!" he shouted back. "I train only the best! I did what needed to be done to see if you had what it took. And you do. You passed with flying colours. I had to make sure that if and when the time came, you'd have the strength to survive and escape. It was a thing of beauty to watch you, day after day. You're just like Reese. You're driven, and you're strong. You two would be perfect together."

"You talk about it as if this is some game. Like we're pieces on a board for you to move around at your own will, but we're not. We're people."

"I don't need people. I need an agent who can get the job done no matter what they have to do, or who they have to kill. You showed me that you are who I'm looking for, whether you want to admit it or not. It's always been in you, deep down all the way in there. I just forced you to pull it out."

"I'm nothing like you."

"No, you're not. You're better. And I still want you on my team. I have an assignment coming up. An important one. And I need you and Reese to work together to carry it out."

"You expect me to work for you after this?"

"Where else are you gonna go? You can't go back to your platoon. You can't go back to your old life. This isn't the army. This isn't the SEALS. I told you this from the beginning. This is nothing like anything you've ever done. Jocelyn Carter is dead. It's time to decide who you're going to be now."

She stared down at him and realized that he was right. She'd come here to kill him tonight. Somehow she'd stopped herself, but something inside her had demanded vengeance in a way she'd never thought about or even desired. Something had changed, and she wasn't quite sure she was comfortable with it.

"You know I'm right," he said, looking at her.

She got off him and rose to her feet. He stood up, put the back of his hand to his cheek and looked at the small amount of blood that coated it.

"You said you wanted to serve your country. Here's your chance. Take a few days off to think about it. You'll get a new name, new identity, a new life. It's up to you."

He took a deep breath and said nothing more. He simply stepped into the shower and pulled the curtain across.

When Carter had first been brought back from the interrogation to the safe house, Reese looked in on her. She'd been unconscious for about two days. They'd been careful to keep her heavily sedated to give her time to recuperate from dehydration, low blood pressure and the onset of fatigue. She'd endured a lot physically, and Reese was sure emotionally she had to be reeling from what'd happened to her. He sat with her on the first night after the doctor had seen her for the evening and was comforted only in the fact that at least she was finally resting.

Her skin was marred by bruises; there were minor cuts and scrapes on her thighs and legs. He cursed Snow and himself for the small part he'd had in it. He wanted to talk to her, but he knew he was one of the last people in the world she'd want to see when she regained consciousness. When Snow had said she left the safe house, he immediately tracked her to an apartment in Krosno, using the signal from a small bug he'd planted in her watch. He'd taken it from her room the night she arrived and replaced it without anyone being the wiser. He needed to keep tabs on her in case she disappeared again.

He let himself in after she'd gone and waited for her to return. He sat quietly on the couch in the dark. The place smelled as if it'd been closed up for a while and he wondered who she'd acquired it from. It was expensively furnished and in an affluent area of the city. How did she get access to a place like this so quickly? There was a clock on the wall, and it ticked away the seconds quite loudly. Its sound was the only thing that disrupted the heavy silence.

Finally he heard footsteps outside and the door opened. Carter walked in, but she didn't turn the light on right away. When the chandelier overhead was switched on and the light finally cast illumination in the room, she turned around with her gun pointed in his direction. She regarded him coolly, lowering the gun and put it down on the table by the door.

As soon as she'd opened the door, Carter saw the figure of a man on the couch out of the corner of her eye. She pretended not to notice and put the bottle of whiskey on the table by the door. When she flipped the switch she turned to face the intruder with her gun drawn. She took a deep breath when she realized who it was. She had no idea how John knew where to find her, and frankly she didn't care.

She rested the gun down and picked up the bottle of whiskey. She finally removed the ski mask and opened the bottle, putting it to her head. Thoughts of their night together ran through her head; his hands on her, his mouth on her. Then she remembered the lashes of the rope, the electricity that ran through her body, and she wanted to know what he wanted from her.

Reese noted the ski mask before she pulled it over her face and guessed she'd just had a visit with Mark Snow. He wondered if she'd left him dead or alive. At the moment however, he really didn't care.

"I won't even ask how you found me," she said, smoothing her hair down and kicking off her boots. "What do you want?" Her voice was cold, indifferent.

"I wanted to see if you were ok. To see…"

"To see if I was dead or alive? Or barely breathing?" She raised her arms and turned around as she mockingly sought to allay his fears.

"I wanted to see if you'd made it. Some people break after a few hours…I was worried."

"Well, I didn't. Did you?"

"No."

"Humph. No wonder Snow thinks we're perfectly suited."

She put the bottle to her mouth again, taking one more drink before sitting in an armchair opposite him. She sat close to the edge, with her forearms rested on her thighs and put her hands to her face.

"Aside from a few bruises, aches and soreness, I'll live."

She said it almost as a taunt, as if she felt he wanted or expected otherwise. When she looked up at him her eyes had glossed over and he knew what was coming.

"You knew about Snow. You knew there was no David Reznick. You knew this whole thing was a lie."

"Yes."

"So you fed me a sad story about some woman named Jessica and how you left her behind. How she got married and your poor tortured soul just misses her and what you two could have had."

"That wasn't a lie…."

"You stood at my door with a bottle of scotch in your hand pretending that I could trust you."

"You can, Carter. It's not what you think."

"Then what was it?"

He wanted to run from the accusation in her eyes. Not only was she angry at him, she was also hurt. He wanted to tell her how good it had felt to be with her, to finally talk to her like he hadn't talked to anyone before. He wanted to tell her that he never wanted her to be hurt, but the words stayed trapped in his mouth, and he couldn't speak.

Carter looked at him, searching his eyes to see if he was the same man who'd opened up to her before. Could she still trust him? Should she believe the genuine concern that she saw on his face, heard in his voice? Could she trust herself around him? Was he simply manipulating her again?

"And having sex with me…was that your attempt to soften the blow? Was that your way of smoothing things over after I found out the truth?"

"No, it wasn't. It was more than that."

"I had a life. I had a team. I had people that I could trust. Nelson might have opposed my leadership in the beginning, but at least when I faced opposition I knew where I stood. I knew because he was upfront with how he felt. But you and Snow…and this Agency…I don't know the difference between my enemy and my friend. He still wants me to stay. He says there's a new assignment for the both of us. How can I work with you, when I know I can't trust you to have my back?"

"If I could take it back, I would. If I had the power to prevent it, I would. I had no choice, Joss. I'm sorry."

She looked away from him, staring past his shoulders. He could see that she was considering his words, contemplating whether or not she could still trust him. The air was heavy, thick with all that she still wanted to say. He would have preferred that she was angry. He could have accepted her rage much better than her silent skepticism about him and what had happened between them.

Carter got up from her chair, suddenly afraid to be near him. She was disgusted with herself; because as angry as she was with him for his part in what she'd been through, a part of her wanted the comfort of his words and the promise in his eyes to make it up to her. How could she be torn after what they did to her? How could she possibly still be drawn to him? Why should she still want him?

"Look, it's been a long night. I need to rest….I think you should leave."

She stood at the door, and she wouldn't look at him. Reese got up and walked toward her, but instead of leaving as she asked, he stood before her. She wouldn't meet his gaze, refused to look at him.

Why won't he leave? she thought.

She was mortified when he raised his hand and touched the side of her face. She closed her eyes as his hand moved to the back of her neck, and he pressed his cheek to her forehead.

"Joss..."

As good as it felt to be near him, the mention of her name on his lips reminded her of how intimate they were before he'd sent her off to be kidnapped. She put both hands between them and pushed him away.

"No," she said shaking her head. "Please go."

To her horror, he slipped his arm around her waist in an attempt to hold her. He raised her chin up and kissed her softly. Mindful of her stitches, the touch of his lips was light and so sweet. He whispered her name again and she pushed at his chest.

Their lips parted briefly, but he pressed his lips to hers once more, and his fingers brushed along the side of her face tenderly. For a brief moment her desire for him overcame her anger and she kissed him back allowing his tongue to flicker against hers. She came to her senses and this time when she pushed him away, her hand landed soundly against his cheek.

"No!" she said, putting a hand to her mouth.

"Joss, please...let me help you."

"Get out, John," she said quietly, running her hands over the top of her head. "Get out!" she screamed when he refused to move.

When the door closed after him, she picked up the bottle of whiskey and walked down the long hallway to the back bedroom. As she sat on the bed she was thankful that she was finally feeling the effects of the whiskey. Pretty soon she would be asleep, something that she much preferred to the incessant questions and thoughts that plagued her mind right now.