Disclaimer: I do not own Person of Interest.
Harold heard them call it, he knew he was gone, but he kept going. Pushing into John's chest and then puffing air into his mouth, holding his nose, and then pushing harder. He didn't care if people saw his tears, didn't care how tired he looked, how frantic and insane he'd become. He just couldn't stop, couldn't let go, couldn't step back and allow John to be dead. The minutes ticked by slowly and by seven they restrained him. They told him John had woken, had tried to move and this had send his body into convulsions that had killed him. Harold screamed and cried and then, in one last vain attempt, he smashed his fist down on John's chest screaming out how he loved John. In that split second, something happened, something miraculous, and unexplainable by doctors. John, who had been dead for a total of twelve minutes, had come back to life, coughing and doing even more damage to his torn side. Harold's eyes were wide as he stared and the nurses let go, instead turning to John to get to work. They fixed him up, got him off the respirator, so that he looked like he was actually living, not just breathing and surviving off machines.