SuDo Madhouse

by BigBJ

To others Hanna Frey is what she wants others to see, but Sam is the only one that sees her true side. However, given that Hanna has reincarnated into multiple dimensions and universes, it's no wonder that she might have a few screws loose. Follow the adventures of Hanna and Samantha throughout their life. OC-SI into Hanna Frey, A journey of damnation and maybe redemption.

22. Chapter 22:su Finch & Reese-The Search

HAROLD FINCH POV

The bright morning sunrise over the horizon shines through the window, waking Harold up from his fatigue induce slumber. He tries to bring his hand to wipe the grim off his eyes, but he finds his hands bound to the armchair. At that moment, every detail of the last 24 hours returned to him like a sledgehammer to his tired brain. Root took him against his will and forced to witness some vile, unpleasant things.

The scenery outside the window paints such an idyllic picture of the world outside, Harold would have normally taken a minute just to admire the view, but now all he could feel is uncomfortable pain. His neck injury isn't helping, and his body feels stiff from falling asleep on a chair. It's not the first time he fell asleep on a chair, but he's now a middle-aged man and not some spring chicken from the Midwest going to the most prestigious technical university, then starting a multibillion-dollar company with his best friend.

What surprise him is that he's able to sleep at all. Harold must have been extremely tired last night if he could have sleep for hours in such a dangerous situation. Not that he blames negligence on his part, he's been awake for more than 40 hours with barely any time to rest, and that takes a toll on his body.

Feeling readjusted to his current situation. Harold looks around from his siting position and spots Root sitting on the couch with a book in hand. He can't see what's the book is about, but leather-bound book. She must have taken it from somewhere in this house.

"Well, look who finally comes back into the world of the living." Root said in her usual tone with that ever-present smirk on her face. "Slept well?"

No, he didn't, but he's not going to play her games, not more than what's needed. So, he kept his mouth shut.

"You know… you could have just asked me for a bed. That neck of yours would have thanked you if you did that." Root closes her book as she stands up and gets closer to him. "Come. I'm sure even with that iron bladder of yours, you need to do whatever morning routine you have to do."

With that, Root cuts his bindings and brings him up, then steady him when he gets unbalanced. Their trip and back to the chair didn't take long. He tried to find anything that could help him plot an escape while in the toilet, but Root had kept the door open and watched him like a hawk while he did his business. Just before his captor sat him back in that chair, Root gave him a glass of water. He eyed the glass of water with suspicions; he doesn't trust anything she does and everything had some motive behind it. She just rolled her eyes, then grabbed an empty glass and filled it in front of him. His throat greatly appreciated the cold liquid, but he doesn't say anything as Root binds him back to the chair.

With a loud plop, Root takes her seat on the couch and then she takes out a bottle of black nail polish from somewhere. Was that the thing she was searching for yesterday?

Not knowing what to do until whatever she's planning in this house occurs, he lets his eyes wonder around the room again, but this time the sun is illuminating the room. After a few seconds surveying the room again, his eye draws back to the picture of the woman Root poison yesterday. From all of their interactions yesterday, he could safely conclude that Root wants access to the machine… but what did that woman from the restaurant yesterday have to do anything with the machine?

Did the description of the woman have something to do with what they're doing here?

Root said the woman lies on her taxes, something Harold is quite guilty of with how he does his identities and Nathan sure as hell avoids paying taxes like it's the plague, so that doesn't make that woman unique.

Addiction is sadly a common occurrence in this country, and that doesn't make this woman special in Root's delusional quest to get the machine. That leaves with the last option, which is the man that the woman was having an affair with…

"You must be starving." Root says softly as she paints her nails in black polish. "Our friend will be here shortly and then I'll fix you something to eat." She ended it with a small smile, trying to reassure him, not that he needs it.

Our friend?

Looking back at the picture.

Then it must be the married man that Root is after. She must have texted that man something to make him come here after stealing that phone yesterday… Does she think whoever she's targeting next can access the machine?

That leaves him with the uncomfortable feeling of what she would do if she ever got to the machine. Mixing someone as volatile as his captor and the power of the machine welds is something he doesn't want to even imagine.

"I have no way of accessing it, you know." He looked back at Root, who stopped painting her nails and giving him her undivided attention. "I made sure of that."

He needs to dissuade her from any notion of trying to gain access to the machine. If she finds where the machine is located at, and from what he has seen of her hacking prowess, he fears she could actually force access into the machine.

"Everything has a flaw." Root said with a grin, completely unconvinced by what he had said. "You know that, Harold."

Of course, he knows that. He still vividly remembers the conversation he had with Nathan on the 48th floor of IFT Plaza the day before they handed the machine over to the government. Any exploit is a total exploit. The contingency Nathan created, and the laptop with the virus he made. Both are flaws to the machine's black box that anyone could exploit.

… But Root doesn't know that, does she?

"And like I told you," Root said playfully as she caps off the nail polish bottle and puts it into her purse with that ever-present smirk. "I'm awfully good at finding them."

He still does not know her motivations for everything she's doing.

"Why? What could you possibly want from it?" Harold asked as he just stared into those mad eyes.

"For the same reason you did…" Root said as she rummage in her purse and takes out a syringe. "A hypocritical friend once to me once said that everyone is selfish, even if they claim it's selfless. But the real reason why you built The Machine is because you wanted to make the impossible for this boring flawed world."

That reference to a friend again, it's the second time she's done that…

"We have come as far as we're gonna go." Root has that intense look in her eye as she shakes her head in contempt of humanity. "I wanna to see what happens next."

Once again, what she said was not wrong… There were times when he was building the machine, he wanted to see what would happen if he let the machine out of its box and let it do what it's fully capable of, but…

"You're right, you and I are alike…" Harold admitted as his eyes wonders away from his captor. "In many ways… Not that I'd care to admit it."

He looked out the window to see the beautiful world outside. "I spent years wondering, how could people be so cruel, petty, so selfish…" Turning his gaze back to his captor who looked at him with an odd look. "And then I'd think about how you could change them. Fix them."

The world might be better if he could have fixed everyone by using the machine but that removes humanity's choice… 'And isn't the choices we make defines who we are?'

There's a small thoughtful smile on his captor's lips, as if she thinks she finally won him over.

"And that's why I've sealed up the machine… Not to protect it from the people I was giving it to…" He said pointedly at Root -and to himself-. "To protect it from me, from people like us. From the things we'd do with it… That's why I will never help you get control of it."

That was something Nathan could never have understood when he explained to him why the machine needed to be locked tight. Nathan was a lot of things, but he always believed in the goodness of others. It's the only reason why Nathan even approached him all those years ago in MIT and made friends with two of the most socially inept people in their class…

He had expected that would have angered or disappoint his captor, but she surprisingly looks calm, as if…

"I know." She said softly with a small understanding nod, then there was a sound of a car coming to a halt from outside. "You won't have to."

Root turns her head towards the entrance as the sound of a car door being open and shut. Is this the person she's lured?

"Because you see, Harold…" Root said as she stands up with the syringe in hand, then she walks towards the wall and hides behind it, as he can see someone outside. "I don't want to control your machine."

The door was unlocked, and someone with a familiar voice entered the house. "Hi Honey, I got your message."

Oh dear…

The clueless man continues to walk forward, unbeknownst to him that someone will do harm unto him as he said. "Is everything okay?"

As he comes into Root's range, Harold could see that she stuck that syringe and empty it's contents into the man's neck, causing him to collapse almost instantly and without a fight.

He could feel his heart pumping again at the sight of the unconscious man… How could he not have thought of this man previously?

"I just want to set it free." Root said without a care in the world about what she has just done. "And he's going to tell me."

Harold just stares at the man… Denton Weeks.

That man tried and failed to hack into the machine by using the NSA data feeds back in 2005. If anyone else alive other than Harold would know the location of The Machine, it would be this man or the more likely scenario he would know the general location of the machine. Seeing that the engineers who were involved in the construction of the machine's location were killed by the government.

Just how far does Root know about the system and the program that surrounds it?

---

JOHN REESE POV

"Bear, zit blijf." John said to his dog, and like a good dog that he is, sits down on the sidewalk and stays behind as he enters the restaurant that's near the 8th precinct.

The moment he sits down at a table, a waitress comes by with a menu and greets him, but before she could go, he asked. "Could you just get me anything that has beacon and eggs?"

The waitress just smiled and said. "Sure thing, and do you want anything to drink with?"

Since he's waiting for the detectives to arrive, might as well…

"A glass of Guinness, sounds nice." He said with a small smile, causing the waitress to look at him oddly. "Also, I got two friends coming soon. Could you…" He honestly has no idea what either of them drink. "… bring a classic Bloody Mary and a Golden Bronx when they arrive?"

Those drinks are excellent for this time of day, but doesn't look like the waitress thinks so…

"Is there anything else?" The waitress writes everything down on her notepad with a raised brow as she looks at him.

"No, that's all. Thanks." John said with his best smile and the waitress goes away to bring his breakfast.

Looking at his watch, it's 20 minutes to the time he told the two detectives to come here. More than enough time for him to finish his food, which is something he hasn't had in the past 30+ hours and now he's feeling it.

His thoughts are still on finding his kidnapped friend and not on his job of saving people. If he could, he would do both at the same time, but he needs to prioritize on what he could do, and he can't save people all by his lonesome. He needs his friend in the glasses.

It looks like the machine took what he said last night -or was it this morning- to heart and didn't give him any new numbers while he was on his way to this place. Either the machine isn't giving him a new number knowing what he said or it's just a quiet day in the city. He would rather think it's the latter.

It doesn't take long for the waitress to come back with a plate of something smells delicious and places it on the table along with his pint of Guinness. He gave thanks to the waitress and looks down on his meal.

A classic American breakfast plate, pancakes, strips of perfectly crispy bacon, hash browns, scrambled eggs and grilled sliced tomatoes. A meal fit for a king that wants to clog their arteries with calories and a starving John would happily shove down his throat. So, he did just that.

Just as he puts down his half empty pint of Guinness, he spots the two detectives walking towards the restaurant. At that, he gives a nod towards the waitress to bring out the other drinks.

The sound of the front doorbell announces Carter's entrance, followed by Fusco behind her, and they both looked as bad as him. He knows what is driving him to not sleep for the past 48 hours, but he's not sure what is for the both of them, especially Lionel. Probably like him they find purpose in helping the needed or just a ton of coffee…

"So, what's this all about?" Fusco asked as both detectives takes a seat opposite of him and the waitress places their drinks in front of them.

"What do you mean?" John replied in his usual tone with a slight smirk. "I promised you guys that round of drinks."

Carter didn't look impressed in the slightest and said. "It's 8am."

Well said…

"Which means Finch has already been gone for 24 hours." John said, seriously losing any playfulness he had previously and leaning in closer to the two detectives. "But we're going to get him back."

They have to get Harold back; he needs to get Harold back. The man saved his life, his life more than once already, and he can't abandon a friend in need.

Fusco has a disgusted look on his face as he examines his drink and said. "This has a raw egg in it?"

"The alcohol will kill the salmonella." John deadpanned instantly, causing Fusco to view the drink with suspicion and put down the drink. The man clearly doesn't have his priorities straight.

He gives Carter a nod and said. "You find anything on the girl, Carter?"

"Yeah." She replied as she opens up a folder with some papers in it and takes out one to give to John. "1991, 14-year-old Hanna Frey walks out of the public library in Bishop, Texas, never to be seen again."

John examines the photo in a newspaper article that Carter has printed out. The picture is in black & white, but John can see some similarities between the woman that kidnapped Harold and the girl in the picture; the hair, the nose look the same. This only cements his earlier conclusion…

"She'd be 35 today. Seems about right." John nods to himself as he passes back the paper to Carter. "That girl became Root and now she has Finch."

Carter has a very skeptical look on her as she looks to Fusco for help, but her partner just looks at John as if he has grown a second head.

"Nothing else about her in any law enforcement database since, John." Carter trying to persuade him out of his conclusion. "Look, I need to know where you're getting your information."

Would she even believe him that an all-seeing eye is helping him through the social security number of a girl who's been declared dead for the past twenty years to find its creator? He doubts it… It took him a while and Harold's very persuasive talk to convince him.

"I can't tell you that." He replies as he looks dead into Carter's eyes. "But we find out what happened to her. We find Finch."

"This girl…" John snaps his eyes away from Carter to Fusco, who's pointing his finger skeptically at the newspaper article. "… been gone for twenty years without a trace."

That sounds like what this Root person would have done if his and Harold's past interaction with her had anything to say about it.

"How long have you been drinking?" Fusco said sarcastically as he stared at John in bewilderment.

Not long enough…

"We're going to Bishop, Texas." John said to Carter as he ignores Fusco's jab. "To find out what happened to Hanna Frey."

There must be a reason why the machine gave this number. It must be Root; there's no other explanation.

"John, I don't know about you, but the both of us have actual jobs we need to go to." Carter said as she makes gestures between her and Fusco, who nods in agreement. "And how do you plan to go to Texas right now? It's going to take hours by car and it's too late to get on a flight to such a small town."

"Finch has a private plane on call." John retorts.

Her eyes shine with anticipation, and a smirk form on her mouth as she said. "Oh, looks like I just caught the blue flu."

"Hey, how come she gets to go on a private jet?" There's a look of betrayal on Fusco's face as he looks at Carter as if she's had just stabbed him in the back before turning back to John. "What about me?"

"I need you to stay here, Lionel." John said evenly as he passed some notes and a picture to Fusco. "Work the Alicia Corwin case."

Fusco looks completely disappointed, but John ignores that and continues. "Find out why Corwin was in New York and find out who's messing with the case."

John takes out his smartphone and force sends an installer to Fusco's phone using Harold's app. "Maybe this will help."

Fusco looks confused as his phone begins to vibrate in his suit pocket. "Did you just jack my phone?" Fusco said accusingly after taking out his phone.

"It's a malware app," John said as he shows Fusco his phone. "Little tip. If someone offers you a great deal on any sort of male-enhancement pill, don't click on it."

Carter gave a small chuckle at Fusco expense. Little did she know that he also jacked her phone a long time ago.

"Oh, another important job you need to do." John said, and then he whistles. "I need you to look after for a friend of mine."

Just as he finished talking, someone opens the door to get out and Bear come rushing in. The good dog comes to a halt by their table with a small whimper, causing the two detectives to look down at the military dog.

"Bear, remember Lionel?" John said as he points to Fusco.

Fusco continues to stare at Bear for a while before looking back at John and Carter. "Great, I'm on guard duty while she's flying high…"

"Don't be so down, Fusco. I'm sure it's not any different from economy." Carter giggles as she pats Fusco's shoulder and finally takes a sip of her Bloody Mary.

John couldn't help but smirk at Fusco's disappointment as he rolled his eyes.

---

HAROLD FINCH POV

Hours has pass since his kidnapper added another victim and he couldn't take his eyes off that man since. He could feel his heart petrified at the sight in front of him. Harold might have only met this man once and gathered that he isn't a pleasant man as well as knowing what the man had tried to do to the machine but that doesn't justify this…

What she's doing to this man is nothing more than just sadistic torture. All the while, her new victim was groaning from pain; she did nothing but smile at the sight she created. He knows her capacity of nonchalance violence from how she killed Corwin yesterday, but this is just…

"Amazing…" Root said without a care in the world, causing Harold to tear his eyes off from Weeks and see another spectacle. His captor was facing the window as she juggled three apples.

"We've have managed to perfect the apple." She turns to face while she continues to juggle the three apples. "A genetically modified version that never goes brown, and yet we still haven't upgraded human beings."

When humanity finally gets the technology to finally do that, people will most certainly choose to 'upgrade' themselves. So, he doesn't know what she's trying to get at, while doing such an absurd act in front of something that's so devoid of any humanity.

"The human race has stalled out, Harold." Root gave him a grin as she stopped juggling and put back the apples into the bowl. "And from what I've seen, most of it is rotten to the core."

That's not true…

He looks away from his captor and back at Weeks in anguish as he feels the sting of the cut she gave him yesterday. People are capable of the worst things possible, present company included, but he has seen the good in the heart of others and to the extent people will go to help others in need. This woman…

"Oh, Harold." Root gave him a sympathetic look. "Generous to a fault. Always letting someone else take credit for your work."

Did she somehow gain access to IFT internal servers? But how… he made sure that anyone from the outside couldn't get into it… unless….

"I'd recognized your code anywhere." She said as she came closer to him. "It's so… Elegant."

Has she somehow encountered the machine's code out in the wild? Is that how she figured out he's the creator? By cross-referencing his code from IFT and the machines.

"Then let it be." Harold tries to reason with his captor.

"I told you." She comes closer to him with those mad eyes. "I don't want to control your machine."

"Then why are we here?" Harold snaps back.

"We're here to observe another type of code." That wild grin came back. "The bad code."

Bad code?

Was that woman she poison bad code? Was Alicia Corwin a bad code as well? Is that how she views other people? Or is this just how she justifies to herself for all the horrid things she has done…

"Clearly, we differ in our views of humanity." Said Harold as he glances between the other two people in the room.

"Do we?" Root instantly retorts. "Then why are you the father of a seismic shift in intelligence, force to live in fear and anonymity?"

"You don't know anything about me." Harold replied as he stared into the eyes of a madwoman.

"Oh, I do Harold." She smiles as she kneels at him. "You're the man who sold the world. Just to the wrong people."

She's not wrong… but there's no perfect solution to everything. If there were, everyone would live in a perfect world.

"I will get access to the machine, Harold. And either you can show me how to do that." She stands up and walks to Weeks, who is hanging by his wrist, groaning in pain. "Or this sad specimen will."

"Denton Weeks." Root said as she pokes the hooded man's chest. "The man you sold the machine to."

She removes the hood, revealing a person in immense pain. "One of you will walk out of here onto the next stage of our adventure." Root then puts back the hood with that grin still present on her face. "I do hope it's you, Harold."

That primal fear came back to him as he just stares at the hanging man and his mad captor. She's bluffing. Root doesn't know if either of them knows where the machine is located at but that doesn't mean he knows if he's safe anymore…

---

JOHN REESE POV

The flight to Corpus Christi International Airport only took them five hours, and John, feeling fatigued from the past 30+ hours, passed out for the entire flight. He wasn't sure what Carter did the entire flight, but he assumed she slept in as well, seeing that she's no better than him. Once they landed, they quickly got on the rental. John drove them to Bishop, and neither talked along the way, with Carter electing to sleep on the ride to Bishop.

John pulls up into a crowded parking lot of the only motel in town that's going to serve as their temporary base of operations. They both exit the rental with their bags in hand and talk to the receptionist to get to their room that John had arranged earlier in the day.

Both of them followed the man out of the reception area towards the rooms and the man says. "Lucky you called when you did. Deer season just started. Booked up solid for a week."

Well, that explains the crowd for such a small town. And Luck? He was sure the amount of money he's -technically it's Harold's money- paying for the room, is the reason they even got a room in the first place and the owner here might have kicked someone out to accommodate him.

The man opens the door, and John enters a small single bedroom without a single thought. It's better than most dingy motel he has stayed in before.

"Oh, I don't think so…" Carter said as she looked at the room. "We're gonna need another room."

Appears that carter doesn't share his sentiments…

The man shook his head and said. "Afraid I can't help you there. I've got three RV's backed up in the lot, looking for a room with running water."

"Thanks." John reassures the man. "This won't be a problem."

The man then gives the room key to Carter and leaves.

Carter turns to him with hands on her hips. "So, what exactly are the sleeping arrangements?"

"Well, I don't plan on sleeping much, and if I do. The bathtub will…" He turns to look into the bathroom and spot a shower instead. "… The floor would be fine."

And it's not going to be the worst floor he has slept on…

"Let's go down to the police station." Says John as he walks back to the room door. "And get ahold of that case file on Hanna Frey."

"Okay, wait." Carter said, causing him to stop. "Let's set up some ground rules here. You keep a low profile and let me deal with the local law enforcement, alright?"

That's not something he needed to be convinced of.

"That's why you're here." John said with his charming smile as he opens the door.

There was a surprised look on her face. She probably thinks he was going to put up more of a resistance.

The sheriff's office wasn't that far from their motel, not that it's surprising since it's such a small town.

"I'm taking point. You just stay here, and in the meantime, try not to break any laws while I'm away." Said Carter as she exits the car.

"Yes, ma'am." He replies softly as he sees Carter walk into the building.

It's not like he needs to be there with her to hear what's going on. He then takes out his phone and listen in through his earpiece.

"HI, I'm detective Joss Carter from the NYPD… Could I talk to the sheriff in charge of the Hanna Frey Case?"

"Hanna Frey? Just wait a moment."

"Thank you."

He keeps looking at his watch to see the time… not that it will tell him differently.

"Hi, I'm Sheriff Landry… Judith here tells me you're from New York? How can I help you?"

"It's regarding the Hanna Frey case, back in '91."

"Oh yes, ma'am, I remember it well. What's your interest in the case? Detective… uh…"

"Carter. I may have a missing person's case in the Bronx that matches the M.O."

That man doesn't sound like he's going to help Carter, especially someone from out of state. He starts to lose patience as he listens to their conversation.

"A young girl went missing from a public library, like Hanna Frey, and one of my suspects used to live in Texas."

That bullshit isn't going anywhere. Just as he was fed up with his lack of progress, a courier van stops directly in view of the building. Now, John isn't a man of belief, but he's not going to ignore a sign staring at him directly.

He gets out of the rental and walks to the van, as he continues to listen in on Carter.

"Really? What's the suspect's name?"

"Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to share names."

He knocks on the van door and says. "Hi, can I borrow your jacket, hat and the package that you're delivering?"

"What? No?" The delivery guy looks at John with bewilderment, as if he has a few screws loose or something and he might not be wrong.

"Still a developing case."

John pulls out his wallet and takes out some cash. "I'll give you two hundred bucks."

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place?" The delivery guy said excitedly and got out of the car.

That trick and knocking someone out always works.

"Sheriff, I'd just like to have a look at Hanna's case files."

He quickly wears everything and walks to the building with whatever package in hand.

"Yeah, well, I'd really like to have the name of this suspect, seeing how it might help break a case that's haunted this town for twenty years."

Entering the building, John walks to the reception desk and places the box on it. "Sign here, please."

"Right, unfortunately, my loo hasn't signed off on a joint investigation."

"Well, hello. What happened to Dan today?" The receptionist says with a wide smile as she looks up and down at him.

"He got rerouted." He replied with his signature charming smile.

"Well, that's too bad." She flirts with him.

"I don't see why not. He sent you all the way down here, didn't he?"

He looks down the hallway, seeing a few doors that might help him, and asks. "Mind if I use the bathroom?"

"Oh, help yourself. It's just down the hall and to the left." She said and points to the direction.

He gives a nod of appreciation to the nice girl and walks down the hall to find where the file room is. To his very fortunate surprise, the first door on his right has a plaque saying in all capital letters 'FILE ROOM'.

"Alright, I'll tell you what. Why don't you give me the name and number of your loo and I'll call him myself."

Looks like the jig is up for Carter.

He looks at the dozens of metal file drawers, each cabinet has year range labels, and he spots 1990-1995. Opening the top drawer, he flips each folder until he reaches '91 and spots 'Hanna Frey'. Bingo…

"No? Well, that's too bad."

Sounds like Carter is going to get kicked out. He quickly takes out the file and hide it on his back. Then he exits the room and give a nod to the receptionist on his way out.

"Well, I hope you enjoy your stay here in Bishop. Hunting and fishing, second to none."

There was a sound of frustrated tap on a desk on Carter's end as John reenters the rental after giving back the delivery guy his things. He quickly opens the folder to look into the contents of how Root disappeared. There must be something he can use to find Harold in here.

A faded colored picture of Hanna Frey/Root. That isn't too useful, since he already knows what she looks like now. The person who reported her missing was her father, Brian Frey. That's something he already knows from that newspaper article. There's six witnesses that saw her last in the library, that library, that's plenty…

The search continued on for quite some time, but they found nothing. Of course, they won't find anything if someone is trying not to be found.

Just as he finishes looking through the case file, Carter enters the car and slams the door shut in frustration. "What the…"

He glances at Carter, who has an incredulous look on her as she says. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Plenty of leads to follow up on. Here." He comments as he passes the file to Carter, who quickly browses through it.

She shakes her head disappointedly as she says. "I don't know what you just did, but this isn't the way…"

"There was even a 911 call from someone claiming they saw Hanna get into a car that night." John cuts Carter off. "They even gave a plate number too, but it didn't check out."

He gives Carter a moment to look through the file before asking. "What do you think?"

Her face of disappointment morphed back to a detective's as she read the file. "I think we start from the beginning. We need to talk to whoever saw Hanna last."

Good, she's finally getting around to it and he needs a partner on this.

"She's still out there, Carter." He says as he starts up the car. "I'm telling you, that girl became Root."

"I don't know, John… but we'll follow where this takes us." Carter said skeptically. "We're going to the library first?"

"Yeah, the librarian was the last one to see Hanna Frey." John says as he drives out of the Sheriff's office parking lot.

Like the sheriff's office, getting to the library only took them a few minutes. They both enter the slightly busy library and see a lady by the reception desk. John looks around the library as Carter approaches the -he assumes- librarian. After spending so much time in Harold's library, this library is miniscule in comparison.

"Hi, I'm detective Carter and this is…" Carter look at him for an answer. They should have gotten his cover straight first.

He gives a smile to the librarian and flashes his badge as he says. "Detective Stills."

"We're from NYPD." Carter raised a brow at him before turning back to the librarian. "And we're working on a case that might have a connection to a missing person's case here. The Hanna Frey case."

The librarian looked at them with eyes wide with shock, but didn't say anything as her eyes darts between him and Carter. Must be a surprise to have someone revisiting something so old.

"I'm assuming you're the librarian that was on duty that night?" Carter asked gently.

This must be Barbara Tomkins.

The librarian nodded her head and said. "Yes, I was there that night. Is there something you need, detectives?"

Carter puts on her detective smile as she says. "Nothing too much. We just want to know what happened that night. Do you remember?"

"Of course, I remember. I only wish I could forget." The librarian takes off her glasses and bites on them. "Hanna was a bright, sweet girl and such a social butterfly."

Root is smart enough to fool Harold and good with people to a point that she fooled him. The only thing different is she's far from being what he would describe as 'sweet'. Something must have happened to her in the past 20 years or what happened to her that night and that something might lead him to Harold.

"Did you notice anything off about her that night?" Carter asked.

The librarian looks jittery -must be traumatic for her to think about- and she said as she shakes her head. "Not really. She was at that computer over there. Like she was almost every night for the past year before her disappearance."

John turns towards the area the librarian pointed at and sees several newish computers with kids using them. This must be the place where Root first learned how to use computers.

"We didn't have internet back then." John unconsciously walks towards the computer area as the librarian continues to talk. "Just six PCs and a few games. Educational, of course."

"You gave the police a list of everyone who was in the library that night?" Carter questions further.

"Yes, the library was about to close that night, and everyone was leaving." She explained. "Hanna checked out a couple of books and then she was gone."

Looks like this place is a dead end. Maybe the parents or the other witnesses know more.

"That's the last time anyone ever saw her?" Carter asked as she closed the case file she had on hand.

"I had no idea there was something to worry about until I got a call from sheriff Landry in the middle of the night saying Hanna never made it home." The librarian said with worry in her eyes. This must be digging up some bad memories for her, but he still needs to find Root.

"Her parents still live here?" John asks as he walks back to the counter.

"Her mother passed away a few years ago." She gave a thoughtful look. "I still see her father every once in a while."

"Is Brian Frey still living at the same address?" Looks like Carter came to the same conclusion as him and is wrapping up.

The librarian gives a nod. "As far as I know. Yes."

Carter gave the librarian her card and said. "Call me if you remember anything else and thank you for your time."

Time to go to Root's home. There must be something there.

---

HAROLD FINCH POV

The sounds of groaning and wheezing echo throughout the small room where the other two occupants just stares at the source of the noise. Harold can't bear to continue looking at the hanging man. The poor man has been like this since sunup and now the sun is going down.

He needs to say something, anything, to that woman, so she stops torturing this man, but he's afraid… he's afraid that if he says something she doesn't want to hear, she will harm the man more. The woman has just shown him how sadistic she is, and he's certain that there's more to it, but he needs to try something.

He needs to try…

"Can you please make this stop?" He says as he tries to move his stiff neck to look at Root.

His captor is just laying on the couch smiling ear to ear as she just looks on the suffering she's causing with glee as she says. "Another hour in that hood, and he'll believe anything I say."

How could someone be so cavalier…

He looks back at the hanging man as Root prop herself up to get closer to Harold and says. "Amazing how simple it is to control the human mind and how much literature there is about it."

She's not wrong…

People are simple to manipulate. God knows how much he has done it himself… but what he has never done was to torture someone to get information…

Root let out a sigh as she gets up from the couch and walks to Weeks to remove his hood. "But you know that, don't you, Denton?"

His heart clenches at the sight of agony in Weeks's face as he starts coughing.

"A top-secret D.O.D. memo authorizing, enhance interrogation techniques…" Root flashes a few papers that she grabs from the table at Weeks. "… including 'Palestinian Hanging' which you are currently enjoying."

Weeks is a lawyer in the NSC, that means…

"Whose signature is it at the end?" Root said playfully as she looked through the papers and made a surprise noise. "Why, it's yours."

Weeks whimpers as he whispers. "Please, water."

Root pouts as she looks through the paper again and finds what she's looking for. "Tsk, sorry. It says you're not allowed."

Even if the man authorized such an evil act, that doesn't mean he deserves it… no one deserves what he's experiencing right now.

How could someone do this without any remorse… even John expressed guilt and self-loathing for what he had done in the name of protecting this country.

Root rolls up the papers and playfully taps Weeks's head with it. "Unless you tell me what I want."

"Lady, I have no idea what you're talking about." He shakes his head. "I'm a Whitehouse lawyer. I sign documents, I don't read 'em. Please, for the love of God, let me down."

Clearly that's legal malpractice on his part, but still doesn't justify what's being done to him.

Root uses the roll of paper to prop up his chin and look into his eyes. "If you tell me where the machine is…"

"What machine?" Weeks lies.

That's not the right thing to say…

Root's face changed from one of playfulness to one of annoyance, as she punch Weeks's guts multiple times, making the man yelp in pain and making Harold jump in fright. He hadn't seen her do physical violence before. What he said must have triggered her.

"I hate it when people lie to me." She said with a predatory grin on her as she grabs the side of the man's head to prop it up. "The machine he built. The machine Nathan Ingram sold to your office for one U.S. dollar. You know where it is."

"I-I don't know anything. I swear." Weeks retorts through the pain.

Oh, dear… He holds his breath, fearing the worst, but he knows she won't kill him yet. Not until he says something she wants…

Root's grip on his head tighter, making the whimper in pain before letting it go and turns around to grab the hood on the table.

"Really, Harold." That grin is still on her and shakes her head in disappointment. "Why do men always seek to delay the inevitable?" She asks rhetorically as she put back the hood on Weeks's head.

Root turns back to him as if he had the answers, but the only thing he could think of was…

"What happened to you?" Harold asks with trepidation.

She let out a snort but kept staring into his eyes. "Me? You think I was damaged? Some childhood trauma that pushed me over the edge?"

Root walks up to him with a chuckle and puts her hand on his shoulder. "That's soo sweet."

Letting out a breath, he was held after Root let go of him and flopped back on the couch. "I've always been like this, Harold." She said sweetly.

He needs to find a way to get away from this woman as fast as possible.

---

JOHN REESE POV

"This the address?" John asked as he looked at the relevantly small house.

A rustle later, Carter replies. "Yeah, 41 Lamar Ave. Same as the report."

They drove about 6 minutes southeast from the sheriff's office to get here. He wasn't sure why he was expecting more, seeing what the other house in this small town looks like.

Carter just looked at him with a raised brow and he just gave her a look before getting out of the car. Just as they reach the door, Carter tilts her head to the door and says if he wants to go first, but John just makes a gesture for her to go forward. To which Carter just rolls her eyes and presses the doorbell.

It didn't take long before an elder man in his late 60s to early 70s opens the door and give them a stink eye.

"Yes?" The man asked after a few seconds of eying him and Carter down.

Carter puts on her winning smile as she says. "Mr. Frey?"

"Yes." Frey replies instantly.

Carter pulls out her badge, which he also follows and said. "I'm detective Carter and this is detective Stills from the NYPD. We're investigating a case that might be linked to your daughter's case."

Frey looked confused when Carter asked where they were from, but when she referenced the daughter, the man's eyes looked completely forlorn, broken even.

He doesn't know she's still alive…

Why wouldn't she get in contact with the man when she's still alive? Unless…

No, the machine couldn't have given him a dud number…

Carter must have sensed that change of attitude, because she asked softly. "Can we come in?"

"Uh… yeah, sure. Please come in." The man nods as he opens the door fully.

They both enter the house and followed the man to the living room to the right of the entrance hallway.

"I'm sure you have met Sheriff Landry?" Frey asked. "Do you want anything?"

Carter waved her hand and said. "No, thank you. We're already taking time out of your day and yes, we've met the sheriff, who gave us a copy of Hanna's case file."

"You said that there's a case that's linked to Hanna's?" Frey asked with his hands on his hips.

Not having much to say, John walks around the living room and looks at the photos hanging on the walls.

"Might be linked to Hanna's." Carter replies. "There's a missing person from the Bronx that matches the M.O. of Hanna's disappearance and a suspect that lived in Texas around the same time. As much as stretch it is, we figure there might be a link."

In front of him is a picture of a happy family sitting in some park, a woman, Frey, and a girl with a braid that can't be more than 10 smiling happily as she points at the camera.

Frey just nods. "I'm not sure what more I can add that's not been said in that report."

"We just know the basics." Carter reply. "We would like to know more about her, but first. Could you tell me if there was something wrong with Hanna the day she went missing or the week prior?"

John walks to another picture, but this time, rather than the whole family, it's just two girls in their pajamas with Christmas presents in hand, looking happy. One is blonde with short hair, and the other is a brunette with long hair. The brunette must be Root while the other one must be a friend or something. They can't be over 7 in that picture.

"Hanna was Hanna, nothing different from her the entire time." Frey replied with a shrug.

Well, that isn't helpful at all.

And this is taking too long…

He turns to look at Carter, who was about to say something but…

"Can we see your daughter's room?" He cuts Carter off, making her glare at him, which he ignores.

"Oh, sure. Come with me." Frey leads the other two out of the living room, out to the hallway again and towards one of the closed doors.

When the door opens, it reveals a sea of pink; the walls, ceiling, mattress, chair and everything that furniture is pink. This causes him and Carter to stop momentarily and recalibrate their brains to the sight in front of them.

Frey gave a chuckle at their expense and said. "Yeah, everyone gets surprised at her choice of color when they first see it, but you get used to it."

Looks like her choice of color has changed a lot since she was a kid…

"This room is like a time capsule. Nothing in here has change since the day she went missing." Frey continued. "I just never had the heart to move anything."

He looks away from the walls and the mattress towards the desk to see something interesting. The desk is full of electronic stuff and computers. Two computers, an original IBM PC -that's something he hasn't seen since the late 80s- and some off brand computer he has never seen before.

John walks closer to the desk to get a better look and see some multimeters, even a very old oscilloscope underneath the desk, along with trays of diskettes.

"She good with computers?" Carter asks from behind him.

Frey lets out a snort and shakes his head. "She was a wizard with the computer. Made it do so many things I didn't think a computer could do back in the day."

That sure sounds like someone who would be a hacker when they grow up.

"When did she first get the computer?" Carter asks as John stares at the slightly beige IBM PC.

"Yeah, bought it for her when she was 7 for Christmas. Cost me an arm and a leg, but there was nothing I wouldn't get for her." He said with a sad smile and a chuckle.

"The other computer?" John points at that said computer.

"Oh. Hanna built that herself from scraps I got from work when she was 8." Frey replied like it was nothing.

He and Carter glance at each other at that new information. John filled her in about their target on their way to LaGuardia and the good detective knows Root's a hacker who ran circles around them in the past.

He looks away from the desk and to the rest of the room and sees one side of the wall was shelves packed with books.

"I heard from the librarian that Hanna was a 'social butterfly'." Carter asked the father, while John walks to the shelves.

Frey snorted. "Yeah, there wasn't a soul in Bishop that wasn't smitten with her when she talks to 'em."

He looks through the shelves as Carter continues her question-and-answer session with Frey. He spots multiple pictures of young Root -she must be 9- along with the blonde girl he keeps seeing and one of the pictures is a grinning Root in a pink ballet costume holding a trophy with that blonde girl. Odd… Root eyes look amber in this picture; the eye must have changed when she got older. Beside that photo is the trophy Root won.

Looking at the other parts of the shelves, he sees books, rows and rows of books. Books about physics, computer science and mathematics; a lot of math books. More than books about computers, which surprises him. He would have thought that she would have computer related books rather than math seeing her being a hacker and all, but Harold is good with math as well. So, it might be a computer nerd thing.

What catches his eye is the subject level of some of the books. John might not be the best with numbers, but he sure as well knows that these books would make an adult working on their PhD weep and here it's in a 14-year-old bedroom.

John pulls out a book that's about 'Implicational propositional calculus' and he has no earthy idea what that even means.

"She likes math?" John interrupts whatever Carter and Frey are talking about by showing the book to Frey. "These look hard for a 14-year-old."

"Oh, you have no idea." Frey has this reminiscing look on him. "My little girl learned calculus when she was four."

Huh…

Carter looks skeptical as she comes closer to the shelves and asks. "She was four?"

"Yeah, my Hanna was a genius." Frey said sadly. "Look, I know every parent says that about their child, but she was just special. Never seen a girl's eyes lit up at the sight of academic papers. I still don't know where she got it, because it ain't me or my wife, that's for sure."

A genius at math and computers? Any doubts about Hanna being Root flew away with that comment. That might be a reason she ran away from town to become Root… but why would she run away? Her father looks and sounds like a decent man.

That 9/11 call says that Root entered a car after she left that library. Was she kidnapped by whoever drove that car and never came back? Then that means he needs to find whoever took her or she got someone to help her run away from town…

"Who's the blonde girl? I see her in a lot of the pictures you have." Carter points to a picture of two girls sitting by that desk and looking at the monitor.

"Oh, that's Sam." Frey came by and picked up the picture. "Hanna's best friend."

Maybe she might have some information that can help? That might be a lead they can follow. If so, why not just give him this best friend's number?

Carter has a thoughtful look on her as she opens the case file again. "Samantha Groves? She's in the file listed as one of the witnesses."

"Yeah… Hanna's disappearance really tore her up." Frey shakes his head and puts back the picture. "Just wasn't the same after and the thing with her mother… we tried to help her the best we could, but…"

"Is she still in town?" John asks the man, who clearly looks distraught, but he needs to find any information that can lead him to this man's daughter.

"Nah, she's out west working in one of those big companies." Frey replies with a melancholy look. "I still get a postcard every year on my birthday."

That sounds like California or Washington State, and most likely a dead end. If the machine sent him here, then the information he needs is somewhere here.

"You don't believe Hanna could still be alive?" John finally asks.

Frey lets out a sigh and walks out from the room. "That was my wife's curse. Refuse to believe Hanna was gone."

They follow the still grieving father out to the dining room.

"My wife always had this bug in her head that says Hanna never showed her true self…" Frey continued. "… and thought she was still out there somewhere."

Looks like Mrs. Frey thought correctly, seeing that their daughter had kidnapped Harold yesterday.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" John pressed on.

A flesh of anger appears on Frey's face. "Of course, I do. Everyone in town knows what happened. The cops interrogated that son of a bitch for over two days."

"Cody Greyson?" Carter said as she looked at the case file again.

"The kid was an idiot, so being the angel she was, Hanna helped him with his homework, but Hanna stopped meeting him a few months before her disappearance because he was making her uncomfortable." Frey seethe. "So, that asshole started following her and it wasn't the first time he followed her home, but they can't prove a damn thing without a body. Then one night, me and my brother paid Cody a visit."

Sounds more like she was dating him rather than just helping with homework. It's either this Cody fellow kidnapped or helped her get out of this town and John is leaning more towards the kidnapping.

John approaches the man and asks. "Did he say the truth?"

"The smirking son of a bitch said he never touched her. Said she probably ran to escape her jerk of a father." Frey sounds exhausted.

Bingo… Cody must have 'helped' Root run away from town and used him as a cover. Fits her M.O.

"What ever happened to Cody?" Carter asks before John could have.

"Most nights I hear he's rotting his guts out at the Razorback." Frey instantly replies as if he is still keeping an eye on Cody.

The Razorback? That's not far from here. Looks like he has a new lead to follow.

John walked out of the small house, leaving Frey and Carter behind.

---

HAROLD FINCH POV

The room was dark only with a few lights on and his captor was somewhere in the house as Harold just stares at the man. By how quiet Weeks is, he looks to be unconscious and as bad as it sounds, weeks being unconscious is a small mercy for the poor man. At least he can't feel the pain when he's out of it.

"I bet you're starving Harold." Root suddenly appears behind him and her hands on his shoulder, making Harold jump in his seat. "You haven't eaten anything the entire day."

The thought of food didn't even cross his mind the entire day with someone being tortured hanging in front of him. He doesn't think anything he puts in him would stay inside.

"No, thank you." Harold said weakly as he avoided looking at her.

"Aww, if you say so~." Root's face came into view on his right and she pouted before grinning again. "But I'll be such a terrible host if you starve yourself to death."

Root went away from his view and dragged his chair, making a terrible screeching noise floor towards the small table. Once he's by the table, Root made sure he still had a clear view of Weeks. She knows how much he detests this and wants him to break first, but he knows what is at stake. Even if he has to condemn a man to such a fate because it's what he expects others would do in if they are in the same situation as him.

Root came back to take a seat beside him with some apples, plates, and a knife in hand. He gives the knife his full attention if she leaves that here…

The sudden ringing of a cellphone made Root freeze, a frown appearing on her face and her slicing of the apple stopped halfway through.

That's something different… He didn't even know she had a phone on her at all, and it didn't look like she was expecting a call at all. So, what would make her freeze? An emergency? He can't imagine this woman having a dependent at all.

Root grabs the cellphone from her bag that's on the small table and looks at it for a moment with her frown deepening before answering.

"Hey…" She pauses and glances at him before continuing. "Pauling. I'm slightly busy right now~." Despite the attempt to sound playful, there's an edge to her voice that he hadn't heard before.

Who's Pauling? Some kind of associate that she knows?

"Where am I? You didn't read the message I sent you, did you?" Root rolls her eyes and sounds annoyed.

"Is there something wrong?" Root's tone changed from annoyed to worry. "Because I'm a bit preoccupied right now." She gave him a slight smile at the end.

He tries to hear what the other person is saying, but the volume is too low for him to hear from this distance.

"What?!" Root yelled, making him jump a bit at the suddenness. "When? Who?"

Root was looking at the distance as she listened to whoever called her. Then suddenly her eyes snap at him with that wild look she has. Why is she looking at him all of a sudden? Unless…

Oh, no…

It can't be…

"No, don't." Root's eyes continue to bore holes into him. "I have a plan. Trust me on this."

"Really?" Root snorted at whatever the caller said. "It's going to be fun, huh?"

"Looks like I'm going to miss the fun." Root said with a soft smile that he hadn't seen before. "Yeah, me too. Bye-bye~."

She puts down the phone and looks at it for a few seconds before looking back at him with that predatory smile again.

"Now, how did your helper monkey find that name?" She leans closer to him. "Not that it would lead him anywhere."

Harold could feel his heart pumping hard again at the anxiety for John's safety. He basically told John not to find him and he's the contingency… but at the back of his mind, Harold was extremely glad and relieved that John is trying to free him.

"Did you think the machine has anything to do with it?" She said with this intense look on her as she taps the table and goes back to cutting the apple. "Something for us to find out when we find the machine."

He needs to think about something else than about John's safety; he knows that John knows how to protect himself.

Root says that John found a name, and assumes that the machine has something to do with it, but he programmed the machine to not help him in such a way and that the machine needs to protect the whole rather than the one. Unless, of course, his virus has come into effect, but he hasn't seen any evidence that it has.

So, either Root is wrong or John somehow managed to communicate with the machine and miraculously got it to help him. Something that shouldn't surprise him at this point. John always knows how to do the impossible in his eyes.

If the machine helped John, that means he got a social security number for a name that might lead him to Harold. That means John has to search for the name in either his system or with the help of the detectives. If so, how did this Pauling find out someone was searching for a name from either system…

A loud groan of pain tears him away from this thought and back to Weeks. Harold can't handle looking at the man hanging like that anymore.

"Let him down." He turns to Root, who looks at him with a raise brow as she continues cutting the apple. "Please."

"Well, you did say please." She smiles as she puts down the knife on the table before standing up.

With a single pull of a rope tied to one of the posts, Weeks falls to the floor with a thump and a grunt. Root drags the man to one of the columns before removing his hood and zip ties his hand to the post.

"Water, please." Weeks begs frailly.

Root giggles and says. "Looks like you're in luck. Your memo says you can drink if you're no longer hanging."

She grabs a bottle of water from the kitchen and puts it into Week's mouth until he finishes the entire thing.

Something's not right. She's too willing…

"Oh, we need to get this show on the road." Root said as she quickly gets up and tosses the bottle into the dustbin. "And since you just drank half a pint of sodium pentothal, that gives me time to go gas up the car."

Truth serum?

This must be part of her plan all along. Get the man so thirsty to a point where he wouldn't refuse to drink any water. Harold glances at the glass of water near him with suspicion. Did she sneakily put some of that drug in his drink as well?

"By the time I get back. You'll be ready to spill everything in your little head." Root says happily before she walks out of the house.

At the sound of a car starting, Weeks's head suddenly shot up. "You, I know you." He said with vigor, making Harold look at him skeptically. "You work with Nathan Ingram. You have to help me get free."

Looks like the man has been faking it the entire time…

"We have a major problem." He points to him with his hands still bound. "She cannot get access to the machine."

Now, isn't this a problem?

Who should he trust his life with?

The person who killed someone in cold blood in front of him or the person who works for the people who killed his best friend.

---

JOHN REESE POV

The sun was setting by the time they reached back to their room after Carter pulled him away from the Razorback and the dead end that was Cody Greyson. They then stopped by the motel reception to borrow a printer and brought back to their room to print out the information of an account with the name of a supposedly 'dead' Hanna Frey, along with other information she got Fusco to gather for her.

"Assuming Hanna ran away." Carter puts up the bank statement on the wall with tape. "A few years later, she winds up in Lafayette, Louisiana, opens up an account a hundred grand was paid in."

John can see the gears turning in Carter's brain and it looks like Carter might finally come around, that Hanna Frey might be Root. Took her some time, but better late than never.

Carter turns around to face him. "Withdraw in cash over three next weeks until the account is closed."

No matter how much of a computer whiz Root is, she can't magically conjure up money from thin air.

"A hundred grand?" He's leaning forwards while sitting on the bed to get a better look at the account statement. "Where does a 16-year-old runaway get all that money?"

Carter turns to grab a paper and shows him a mug shot of a mean-looking man. "Jose Barilla, currently serving 17 life sentences for drug trafficking and murder."

"The money was electronically transferred out of his account." Carter has this self-satisfying look on her. "If this Root woman is indeed Hanna Frey, what her father said and what you said about her being good with computers…"

"Then a computer genius that's on the run would steal from some drug lord." John concluded.

That might be how she started out at first, innocently enough in the beginning, stealing from other criminals before graduating to be a killer and a kidnapper. The only problem is that he just doesn't see why she would run away in the first place. He's not seeing something…

"But where does the account lead us?" He asks the detective.

Carter turns around and points at the account statement. "Right back here. There was a co-signatory on the account. A guy named Trent Russell, local address right here in Bishop."

That rings a bell. "Name sounds familiar."

"Yeah, he was on the witness list in the library the night she disappeared." Carter nods.

That's a lead they can follow, and this Russell guy might have answers or better yet he's the one that helped her run away.

John stands up, feeling hopeful, and says. "You still got that address?"

"Yeah, let's go." Carter grabs the car keys. "I'm driving."

John opens the door and makes a grand gesture for her, to which just rolls her eyes.

The house was on the west side of Bishop and for a house in a small town, it's fairly large. Guess even bankers in small towns live in big houses.

They approach the front door and Carter knocks on the door.

"Who is it?" A woman answers from behind the close door. The wife or someone else? He hopes Carter's info is up to date.

"Mrs. Russell, It's Detective Carter. Is your husband at home?" Carter replies professionally.

He would have just kicked down the door…

Still an option.

The door opens and reveals the librarian they met earlier in the day. Both of them glanced at each other to see if the other was seeing correctly before Carter asked. "Mrs. Russell?"

Isn't this a curve ball? John peers around the woman to see if Russell is somewhere in the back.

The librarian looked at the two of them, as confused by the situation as them. "Uh, yes?"

After a second of recomposing herself, Carter asks. "Trent Russell is your husband. Can we talk to him?"

Mrs. Russell's shoulders sag and answers. "Trent passed away 18 years ago."

18 years ago? '94? Just three years after Root disappears from this town, and a year after 'Hanna Frey' opened that account with his signature. This is suspicious as hell…

"Oh, I'm sorry. Can we come in?" Carter said sympathetically.

Mrs. Russell's eyes were wide, but she eventually nodded. "Oh, come in."

They both entered the house and went directly into the living room. John scans around for anything and sees that it's pretty bare, but there are a few picture frames on the walls and shelves. He grabs the nearest picture frame and sees a man standing with Mrs. Russell hand in hand; he assumes is Trent.

"Oh, we were only married a few short years." She comments as she stops by him to look at that picture. "We met at the library. Trent was a member of the monthly book club and a major donor."

Mrs. Russell walks away from him as sadness befall on her. "I miss him so much."

Something's not right… he can feel it in his guts.

"How did he die?" Carter asks tactfully.

"It was awful." Mrs. Russell replies as she closes her eyes in pain. "He was attacked. Shot to death."

"They know who did it?" Carter probs further.

He might have an idea…

"Police said it looked like a drug killing, some trash over the border, but never caught them." Mrs. Russell replies as she looks away.

Drug killing and trash from over the border? The guy Root stole from was a drug kingpin from Mexico…

Everything John was missing is now coming together for him and the picture is so clear now.

"Trent was a bank loan officer." Carter said, as she tries to understand the situation. "Is it possible he got caught up in the money laundering business?"

That might be a good theory if a bank account wasn't opened in a supposedly dead girl's name.

Mrs. Russell looks confused by that allegation. "No, he was a good man. It was just a mistake."

That wasn't a mistake; it was a premeditated plan to kill the person who kidnapped her. That's the reason why she never came back…

"How long did he know Hanna Frey?" John asked pointedly as he walks closer to the woman.

Mrs. Russell looks aghast and offended by that -looks like he hit a nerve-. "Hanna? No, he didn't."

Asking her anything else will be a waste of time. Looks like she's going to stonewall them. He needs to find something that will prove the link to Root.

"Then how do you explain this?" Carter shows the woman Hanna Frey's account statement. "He signed for a bank account in her name, two years after she disappeared."

"This must be some kind of mistake." She denies vehemently.

"Yeah, just like his murder." Carter said skeptically. "You mind if we look around the place?"

Not like he needs permission. Now, where would he find something?

The 9/11 call…

The car!

"Yes, I do. You need to leave now." Mrs. Frey protests loudly but John ignores it and walks towards the garage he saw from the outside.

Once outside, he takes out his lock pick and opens the garage door, revealing a dark garage. He walks in to turn on a light and saw a car underneath a large piece of canvas.

This must be it.

He quickly removes the car cover, revealing a two-seater sports car… what was that description the caller gave again?

John walks to the front of the car to see the plates. This must be it.

"Carter!" John calls for his partner.

It took a minute, but Carter quickly walks to him.

He looks at Carter, then tilts his head to the car. "That 911 call. The witness who saw Hanna get into the car, there was a license plate."

Carter initially scrunches her brows before realizing. "Oh, hold on." She quickly opens the case file to the paper with the 911 transcription. "Caller: It's about Hanna. The girl who's gone missing. I saw her get into a car outside the library that night. The operator asked about the make of the car, but she could only give a description: It was a dark two-seater car."

John's eyes quickly dart to the car in question. It's a two-seater car, and the color looks dark if there were no lights…

Carter continues. "And the license plate is 925 ESK."

He turns his head down to the license plate again. "925 EFK. The caller got one digit wrong."

"Or the operator did." Carter speculates. "Are we saying this is the car?"

"Matches the caller description and plates." John replies.

The gears in Carter's head are spinning wildly. "Trent Russell kidnapped Hanna Frey?"

"Russell took her, but she escaped. Then she got her revenge." John said confidently.

Carter gives him an unconvinced look. "How can you say that?"

"Because of the bank account, Russell cosigned. That's how Root works. She set him up." Carter still looks skeptical, but he isn't deterred by it. "She stole 100 grand from a drug dealer and when he found out it was missing, the person he went after was Russell. He denies it, but it's useless. His name is on the account and the only other name is the name of a girl who's been dead for two years. He has to be lying. So, the man who kidnapped Hanna gets gunned down in a parking lot and his victim is in the wind, 100 grand the richer." John theorizes out loud.

Carter still doesn't look convinced, but it doesn't matter because he knows this is true and this must be the reason the machine sent him here.

"It's Root." John concludes. "It has to be Root, and we need to search that house."

Carter puts her hands up to stop him. "We need to call the sheriff. We need to handle it the right way, John."

"You do that, but I'm not going to stop." John points at the garage.

"Fine, just wait till the sheriff's come before going to the house." Carter takes her phone out and dials a number.

John quickly tunes out the outer world and tears through every single inch of the small garage to find whatever clues that can lead him to Root, but he finds nothing. Other than some dust on the car, everything else is clean; the garage has nothing other than normal things one can find in a garage. Just some average gardening stuff; a shovel, etc.…

"John!" Carter yelled at him from the front of the house, tearing him away from the garage. "Sheriff's here. We can go in now."

He gave a nod to Carter and walked out of the small garage. Upon entering the house again, John starts searching the kitchen for anything. When he couldn't find anything, he went into the rooms. He couldn't help but notice that for a large house, the house is quite bare, like Mrs. Frey has some financial problems. Not that it matters to him, he just needs to find anything that can bring him closer to finding Harold.

"John." Carter calls out for him.

He quickly enters the master bedroom and sees a wall of books with Carter standing by it, holding a few of the same books in hand. Carter gave him a look as he saw the title of the book; it's the same book that Root checked out from the library. She then gestured to the other books at the back of the shelf to which he grab the rest and the both of them left the master bedroom.

"Flowers of Algernon." Said Carter as she dumps the bunch of books on the kitchen table where Mrs. Frey and the sheriff are sitting at. "The book Hanna checked out that night at the library."

John puts his stack of books on the countertop and starts going through each one of them. All of these are brand new. Unless Mrs. Frey is a big fan of this book, there's a different reason for her having them.

Root must have sent it to this woman to mock her…

"18 copies hidden in your bedroom. Where'd you get 'em?" Carter interrogates.

Mrs. Frey looks defeated. "They just come… Every year. Every year on the same date."

"What date?" The sheriff asks.

No wonder the police didn't find Root if he was the lead investigator on that case.

"April 15th, the day Hanna disappeared." John tossed a bone to the sheriff.

"They just arrive from all over the country. No note, no sender, like someone just wants to be cruel." Mrs. Frey said in a hollow voice as she just stared off into the distance.

She's not telling the whole truth… but he can let Carter handle that. What he needs is to find where these books came from because that might help him find who bought them and everything has a paper trail.

He looks down at one of the books and sees some kind of tag still in it. Pulling it out, it's a price tag for a bookstore in Seattle. Looks like he just hit the jackpot.

"Carter." He calls out to his partner, who continued asked questions to Mrs. Frey and the sheriff.

"The most recent book did have something." John shows her the tag. "I'm gonna find out who bought it."

She gave him a questioning look, but he tilted his head to Mrs. Frey before continuing. "You stay here. She's not done yet."

---

HAROLD FINCH POV

It's almost 10 minutes since Root left with the car and Weeks has been trying to reason with him the entire time, but Harold just isn't sure about helping this man. Root is volatile, but he hasn't seen her harming anyone that she isn't aiming for. Meanwhile, Weeks here might have a hand in that pier bombing that killed so many people and Harold needs to figure out which evil to choose.

"She'll come back soon." Weeks try to reason with him. "I know you're reluctant to trust me…"

That's the understatement of the decade.

"… don't know me."

"Oh, I do know who you are, Mr. Weeks." Harold rebuts instantly, finally speaking after being silent from the beginning and making Weeks scrunch his brows in confusion. "You tried to hack the machine."

"I certainly tried. It was my job." Weeks conceded. "I had to test its limits, see if it's safe, but in all of our crisis scenario, we never envisioned this. That someone would get to one of us."

Seems like the government didn't practice good risk management if they didn't expect or think a single person to figure out their highly illegal clandestine program.

Not that he expects someone like Root to show up, kidnap him and another person to find the machine after revealing himself to save an 'irrelevant' number, either.

Harold takes a deep breath before saying. "She won't get to the machine through me."

And he doesn't want to see what will break his resolve…

"But you must see that if you don't help me get free, we will lose the machine." Weeks said pointedly.

That's true… the sodium pentothal will make him sing out the truth even if Weeks doesn't mean to say it, and seeing to what extremes she went through to get to him, he can't imagine what she would do to find the machine.

Looks like he doesn't have much of a choice.

"What can I do?" Harold said defeatedly.

"The knife." Weeks said. "Try to push it to me."

Harold stiffly moves his head to see the knife isn't far from where he's sitting. With that, he jumps the chair closer and closer to the knife until he reaches it. Then with all his might he pushes on the table until the knife falls to the floor near where Weeks is tied to.

All he could do now was watch Weeks struggle to reach the knife with his bound legs, but somehow after multiple tries, he catches the knife and brings it closer to his hands.

His hearts pumps harder with dread when he hears the car driving up the driveway of the house just as Weeks begins to cut his zip ties. Weeks frees himself from the bindings just as Root enters the house. He watches as Weeks scrambles up on his feet, a bit disoriented, and takes a position near the wall that leads to the entrance.

From his limited viewing position, he can see that Root notices that Weeks is no longer on the ground and pulls out her pistol as she moves forward, but when she enters the room Weeks jumps on her.

Weeks grabs hold of Root's right hand and disarms her before tossing her to one of the columns, causing her to yelp in pain, and then Weeks punches her in the face, making her fall on the ground. He can see that Root tries to scramble back on her feet, but Weeks prevented it by kicking her in the torso, causing her to yell in pain. Weeks then grabs her by her collar and throws her on to the floor in front of Harold.

The violence Weeks is showing appalled Harold, but he was too shocked to say anything as Weeks kicks the Root while she's on the floor. He didn't expect this level of brutality Weeks to bring upon that woman, even if she herself caused much violence in the past 48 hours. He can't let this continue.

"Stop." Said weakly, but Weeks didn't listen as he continue to kick the unconscious woman.

"Stop it!" Harold shouted.

"Don't worry!" Weeks stops kicking the downed woman as he tries to reassure Harold. "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill her."

Weeks is out of breath as he puts his hands on his knees. "At least not until I find out what she knows."

He knows the moment he helped the man escape that he would sign Root's death warrant, but doesn't want anyone else to die… not even her.

"So… Ingram's little I.T. guy." Weeks walks past him and grabs Root's pistol from the floor. "We always suspected the idiot in the tux couldn't have done it on his own."

Harold took a breath to calm himself down and said. "What do you want?"

Denton squats a bit to look Harold in the eyes. "I want to know what you know."

Harold refuse to say anything about the machine and look away from the man.

Looks like he traded one captor for another…

He knew better than to have trusted this man. Desperation to protect the machine and to escape pushed him to help with the man that's involved in Nathan's death. Now he's at his man mercy and Weeks is holding all the cards now.

"Fine." Weeks straightened his posture and looked at Root. "You didn't break the entire time; I don't expect you to tell me everything now."

If this man knows what he knows, there's no telling what damage he would do to the machine.

"She really sent me over the edge." Weeks used his feet to turn Root's unconscious body around.

"So, what's your plan Mr. Weeks." Harold asked as he looked at the unconscious woman.

She looks so defenseless…

"Tidy this up. Get some real experts to question this bitch." Weeks pace around Root's body and then he points at Harold. "But since anonymity means a lot to you and because you helped me, I'm gonna let you go wherever you want."

Harold would love to believe what this man says, but he isn't sure… not that he has a lot of option at this point.

They stared at each other and assessed the other's position for a second before Weeks continued. "Just one more question. Can she get to it? I need to know if it's safe. You are the one man who can tell me."

Harold's eyes drift away from Weeks as she tries to think about what to say. He still has a hand in the game, and he needs to play it right.

"Please" Weeks insist.

He takes a moment or two before answering. "It cannot be altered remotely."

A half-truth…

"If anyone wanted to change anything, they'd have to have physical access to the servers?" Weeks nods in understanding.

"That's right." Harold acknowledges.

"So, if the location is hidden, the machine is safe?" A smile formed on Weeks face.

Harold just nods as Weeks walks closer to him.

"It's been an honor to meet you… at last." Weeks grins as he brings up Root's pistol.

Oh god…

Harold felt like he's going to have a heart attack and jumped at the sound of the pistol trigger being pulled as he closed his eyes in anticipation…

But nothing came out of it.

The sound of Weeks screaming cause Harold to snap open his eyes again to see Root with a hand taser and tazing Weeks's leg, making him fall on his knees. She then quickly rises from her prone position and taze the man's neck until the man goes unconscious.

Harold could only look at the scene with shock at what was happening. Was that her plan? Did he just 'walk' into a trap she laid again?

Root turns her head with her blood flowing out of her nose and that intense look in her eyes. "What did I say, Harold?" She sounded like she was disappointed in him. "Bad code."

Just why is she so determined to a point where she risks her own life again for such little information?

---

JOHN REESE POV

After kicking those two idiot's asses that tried to jump him, John grabbed their laptop and their crossbow just in case they thought about doing something stupid again.

Once inside, he sets up the laptop on the desk, then he grabs a map of the USA from the desk drawer and sticks it up the wall. Then he stuck the book price tag on the map. With everything set up, he can now make some good, old investigative calls.

He picks up his phone and dials the bookstore. Took a second, but someone answered the phone. "Hello this is Seattle Bound. How can I help you?"

"This is detective Stills, NYPD homicide. I'm calling about a book you sold at the beginning of April, Flowers for Algernon. I need to trace the buyer."

"Oh! Just a moment. I'll help you find it."

John talks to the caller until he gets the information he needs. A credit card number, than well as the issuing bank. That's the paper trail…

He quickly search for the bank phone number and calls it. After getting transferred multiple times to someone who can help him.

"Hello, is this detective Stills?"

"Yes, this is detective Stills, NYPD, I'm calling in connection to a missing-child case. A transfer was made from an account at your bank to a bookstore in Seattle."

There's a knock on the door, but he ignores it.

"Oh goodness, is there a name for the account?"

John grabs the information he got from the bookstore. "The account name was Von Neumann; last four digits is 4253."

"Give me a moment."

There's another knock on the door before someone opens it.

"Hey, buddy, uh, no trouble." Looks like the idiots he knocks out are conscious again. "We just need to get our stuff, you hear?"

John doesn't have time for their bullshit. So he grabs the crossbow, then points at them as he says. "Police business."

"Whoa, whoa. We're good." The idiots close the door.

"Hello, are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm here."

He gets the all the information from the bank and prints it out then sticks it to the map. Looking through the account, he spots an account that has repeated the transfer to this Von Neumann account, and there's a name that's linked to it. Thank goodness people don't ask too many questions when there's a missing child involved.

With that new lead, he starts doing calls to banks over and over again for multiple bank accounts until…

"Yes, I need to check for recent activity on a credit card in the name of Kelly Dyson."

"Just a moment… ah, here it is… It's paying for gas in Relton, Maryland."

"A gas station in Relton, Maryland?"

Where the hell is that?

"Yes, the last usage was at 4:08 A.M."

John turned to the map to look for Relton, Maryland. "Just after 4:00 A.M."

That was three hours ago. After so long of cold trails, now it's red hot.

There it is. Relton, Maryland, just off Chesapeake Bay.

"Gotcha." A smile began to form on his face and the feeling of heaviness on his shoulders lightened.

Now he needs to get to Maryland, so he grabs his phone and texts the service that Harold uses for private jets. After a minute of back and forth, he secure himself a plane. With that done, he needs a car to get to the airport… or maybe a truck would do, and he just happens to know a couple of guys that have one.

John grabs the crossbow from the bed and exits the motel room. Once outside, he sees the two knuckleheads nursing their heads from his earlier beating. At first, they didn't see him, but when the sound of the motel room door closed, they saw him, and they looked like they could fly in that instant.

"Hi, I'm detective Stills." John tries to calm them down. "Sorry if I hurt you too badly, but I have a pressing case."

The tall guy gave the shorter one a look before coming forward with his hands raised in surrender. "Uh… okay bro, we're sorry too and don't wany any more trouble."

"Me too." John replied with a winning smile.

"But could we get the crossbow back?" The shorter one asks, while using the tall one as a shield.

John grins as he examines the crossbow. "Only if you drive me to the airport. Official police business."

The tall guy gives a nervous glance to his friend before nodding. "Yeah, sure, uh… thanks."

"No, thank you." John gave them a last smile before returning to his room with the crossbow in hand.

He tosses the crossbow back onto the bed and went to one of the chairs to grab his suit jacket.

Just as he was about to wear the jacket, the room door opened again, revealing his detective. Just in time to see him leave.

"Carter, you can keep the rental." John wears his jacket. "The guys are lending me a truck."

"Why is there a crossbow on the bed?" Carter points at the thing with the case file as she walks towards him.

He gave a shrug and said. "Long story, but we're friends now. Gotto go. Got a line on a private jet in Corpus Christi."

"Where are you going?" Asked Carter, who sounded a bit annoyed.

"Back East." John stops just by the door but then walks towards the wall full of paper. "Look…" He grabs the book from Russell's and uses it as a pointer. "This book led us to a bookstore, to a bank, to a bank, to a bank, to a bank, to a bank, to a bank, to a credit card which was used in Maryland about three hours ago."

John points to each bank statement that's been stuck to the map of the U.S. and finally at the great state of Maryland.

He dumps the book on the table, and he points to Carter as he says. "It's Root, Hanna is Root. She's alive, and I know where she is." With that, he went back to the door.

"She's not Hanna." Carter said firmly as she sits on the bed making John stop just before he can exit the room.

What?

John frowns as he turns around to face Carter.

Carter let out a long sigh. "Hanna's gone, John. There's no body, but we found her things, the book she borrowed, her clothes, her backpack, her watch, and all of it covered with blood… a lot of blood."

Carter shakes her head as she looks at John sadly. "She's dead. Hanna never did get away from Russell."

John felt stumped for a second as he looked back at the wall of the paper trail he gathered. "Then who did this? Who sent the book, and got Russell killed?"

Carter gave a sympathetic look at him before opening the case file to grab a picture and showed it to him.

John sat down next to Carter to get a better look at the picture; it's the picture of Hanna when she was 14 and that friend of hers in Ballet costume together, each holding a trophy, smiling happily.

Is Carter saying the friend is the one that did everything?

He looks closer at the picture and sees the difference that he missed… the eyes they're different….

"Hanna's father gave it to me." Carter said. "Sam was the one that saw Hanna get into Russell's car that night. She told Barb, called 911, but nobody would listen."

He was so focused on the number the machine gave to him that he was blind to the fact that the friend could have done all of this as well. He completely disregards what Frey said about the blonde girl…

"Did Frey tell you anything else?" John inquire as he continue to look at the photo.

"Not much, only child. Mother died back in '01, so Sam left town and was never heard from again, other than those postcards she sent to Brian. I've checked those postcards, and it came from all over the country and the world. There's no pattern in it." Carter showed a few of the picture of the postcards from her phone. "If anybody's Root, it's gotta be her."

This doesn't change anything, other than the background of the person who kidnapped Finch.

John takes a deep breath and exhales. "Then she's the one who took Finch. I know where she is and I'm going after her."

John quickly gets up from the bed and exits the room to find his friend.

---

HAROLD FINCH POV

He could do nothing but watch as Root dragged Weeks back to the column where he had been tied up before, swiftly using the hanging rope to bind Weeks's hands.

"You'd know I'd help him, didn't you?" Harold asks the woman who had just finished tying up the unconscious man. "You let him beat you up, take your gun… you planned the whole thing."

Root bent down to grab the knife Harold 'helped' gave to Weeks earlier and used it to poke Weeks, but didn't pierce any skin. "That's who you gave the machine to."

Root let out a chuckle as she stands up and makes her way to Harold. "Violent and predictable people, but you must see I'm on your side."

This woman is both insane and delusional if she thinks he's on her side or anyone.

She walks past him and put the knife back on the table as Harold says. "I'm not on anyone's side."

"You know what I mean." Root kneels in front of him with her bloody face. "I know you just want to protect the machine and in a sense I do too… We just have a different sense of morality in going about doing it… We aren't so different, aren't we?"

How could she even think of such a thing? He would concede that in some ways he's similar to her, but in terms of what's right and wrong? They're the complete opposite.

That wild grin appears back on her, only this time it looks even wilder with the blood on her face. "Heh… -I can't believe I'm repeating these words- but you just need a push, Harry."

He could only look at her with a tinge of sadness at that. Something happened to her to make her what she is today…

"I am the best chance, the best partner you will ever have when it comes to the machine." She leans in closer to Harold with a hand on his shoulder. "And definitely the most fun."

The only partner he chose was Nathan, Grace, and John. Not this madwoman and he just had about enough of her…

"No." Harold said firmly, causing the grin on Root's face to fade a little. "You're worse than Weeks. You're worse than all of them. I'd rather die than give you the machine, so please kill me now. At least I won't have to listen to you anymore."

By the end Root was no longer grinning, and Harold couldn't give a damn if she's going to kill him anymore. At least it would protect the machine and protect others from the power she would wield if she got the machine.

He can see Root's face twitching and feel her hand gripping his shoulder tighter, before a strain smile appears. "You're tired…"

She then removes her hand from his shoulder to touch her nose. "And I'm bloody."

"I'm gonna go clean up." She spoke calmly as she rose and left for the other part of the house.

He let go a breath he didn't know he was holding as Root left him again. As liberating as it feels to tell her off, it doesn't change how terrifying it was. With his 'attempt' of escape 'thwarted', he has nothing else to do but hope for some miracle or the more likely scenario for John to come for him.

If what Root said earlier is true, then that means John is coming for him somehow. Now he needs to find an opening for him to leave a message for John. Harold scans the area around him for anything that could help him, but with his tied-up hands, his current options are limited.

Again, he just stares at Weeks, sometimes stares out the window for God knows how long, but he could see the sun is moving before he hears the doors opens and Root coming out of it.

Harold stiffly turns his head to see his freshly changed captor with no trace of blood anywhere. He instantly spots the syringe she has in her hands as she makes her way to him.

"Sorry I took so long." Root stops in front of him and shows him the syringe. "A mild sedative."

Oh, goodness gracious. That could be anything for all he knows.

His heart starts pumping in his ears as Root comes closer with that needle.

"I apologize, but I need you to be a little more." Root pushes his head to the side to reveal his neck and sticks the needle in him, making him groan in pain. "Amenable." She ends it by injecting the mysterious content into his neck.

Root lets out a sigh as she walks away from Harold just as her phone beeps again.

"Well, well, it seems like I underestimate your knuckle-dragging friend." Root commented with a chuckle.

John? T-that's good.

Goodness… It seems like the drug is working. He could feel the energy leaving his body and his brain starts to be disoriented, but at least he can still think straight.

"How he got there… I do not know." He could hear Root dialing or texting something. "I had some doubts that the machine helped him earlier, but now I know it's helping him."

The machine isn't supposed to help him… it's not part of its operations…

He could hear Root packing her stuff as she says. "Something for us to discuss on our journey."

"I hope you like trains just as much as me." Said Root as she push a wheelchair in front of him.

He can feel his eyes being droopy as Root comes in front of him with scissors in hand and cuts his bindings.

Oh, that's good…

With the freedom of using his hands again, he quickly unclasps his cufflinks and holds it in his palm when Root has her back on him to do something… It's not like he has the energy right now to fight…

"Come on, Harold." Root grabs Harold and transfers him to the wheelchair.

She gave him a smile as she examined Harold leaning into the wheelchair, before moving away towards Weeks without binding his hands again.

Now if he has the energy to do something, that would be fantastic, but he can barely hold on to the cufflinks in his palm. He need to play this smart and find something to help him.

"One more question, and then I'll leave you alone." Root said from behind him to Weeks. "Where's the machine?"

It's very unlikely that this man knows where it is if Corwin didn't.

As he was looking around him, he spotted a cordless phone on the ground just by his right side. It must have fallen to the ground when Weeks was tossing Root around earlier. He can use this… not for calling John, since he expects Root to have cut the phone lines, but to leave a message.

Root let out a sigh and there's a sound of her pistol being open. "This time, it is loaded."

There was silence on Weeks end, and he isn't sure if he can say anything even with the 'truth serum'.

What can he use to message John…

Something that John would understand…

Tap code!

The sound of Root's pistol cocking made his heart pump faster despite the drug making it sluggish. "Now, where did you move the machine?"

He used as much energy as he could to bend down to reach the phone.

"I'm telling you; I don't know." Weeks said weakly.

Harold press the dial; 444211…

"Wait!" Root must have pointed her gun at him. "July 12, 2009, it was boxed up and put on a train."

24334…

"With that number of servers, of course, it was a train. But a train to where?" There's an edge in Root's voice.

3443…

"It started in Des Moines, then it was transferred to Union Pacific Railway bound for Salt Lake City, and that's all I know." Weeks said tiredly.

Good, he only knew the beginning of that train journey, similar to early Nathan's notes, and it took Harold a while to figure out where the machine was being kept…

"That's a start." Root said happily.

"You have no idea what you're getting into." Weeks warns/threaten Root.

There were several seconds of silence than…

BANG

BANG

Harold jumped in shock as his throat tightened in fright. No… he didn't want anyone else to die… He knew that this woman would have killed the man when she gets what she wants but he still had some hope that she would spare him…

Root let out a sigh, as if taking a life is just a nuisance to her and walks back to Harold, where she spots the cordless phone on the ground.

"Harold…" Root said disappointingly, along with a pout. "Did you think I'd forget to disconnect the phones?"

She gave him a slight smile before getting behind him and started pushing the wheelchair. "Off we go~."

Harold quickly drops his cufflinks by the phone without Root noticing anything.

All he can do now is hope…

---

JOHN REESE POV

John has only one thing in mind as he brings the car to a screeching halt in front of a house. Looking at the driveway, he spots a car. This is the address the address Fusco gave him, and Harold might still be in there.

He quickly gets out of the car and walks the short distance to the house with a piston in his hand, raised, scanning for anything. Reaching the door, he gave a test to see if it was booby-trapped, and with the all clear, he entered the house, gun raised.

Once inside, he scans every inch for any danger as he walks forward and there; he spots someone with their hands tied up, not moving. John feared the worst, but taking a second look, it's not Harold…

They must have left already, and Root drops another body in her wake. He needs to check to see if that man is actually dead or not, so he holsters his pistol and walks to that man. Giving a quick glance down and checking for a pulse…

Yeah, it's the missing Denton Weeks, and he's still warm too. Meaning they just left, maybe in the last thirty minutes or so. That's the second government spook Root killed in 48 hours, and this is the first one that she tortured. What does she need with the both of them?

That isn't important right now…

What he needs is to find anything that can lead him to his friend, and he'll be damn if Root gets away again this time.

John looks around at the room and sees it's in bit of a mess. Looks like someone got into a scuffle in here… Did Harold or Weeks put up a fight? Knowing his friend's penchant for violence, he doubts it. Most likely This Weeks's guy fought Root…

What's there?

John walks a few paces forward to a cufflink sitting beside a phone and kneels to inspect the cufflink. That's Harold's… and if it's beside a phone, it's not placed there for no reason.

Grabbing the phone, John sees it has no connection and checks the call history.

4442112433434433

That's not a phone number… so what could it be?

444211…

Then it clicks.

"Tap code, Finch… Really?" Says John, amusingly at the ingenuity of his friend, as he quickly grabs a book from the floor and gets up.

Once at the table, he lists down everything he remembers about tap code… Well, what he remembers is scant, but it's a simple encoder.

4442112433434433

Now he just needs to align everything using every other two digits.

Took a second, then it snaps in his head.

"Train station." John says to himself.

If his memory is right, there's a train station in town not far from this place. So John quickly gets up, knocking the chair backwards, and sprints out of the house as fast as possible.

---

HAROLD FINCH POV

Root brings the car to a halt in a disabled parking spot and turns it off. She has a mischievous look on her. "We're here~."

Harold just gives her a look that makes her roller her eyes. "You're disabled silly."

She gave him a smile as if she didn't just kill someone and undo his seatbelt as she says. "I've always liked trains, so let's go~."

She exits the car to grab his wheelchair, as he doesn't have any energy to do anything. His mind is racing through what she injected into him as a way to not think about the murder he just witnessed. Not that it helped… he's going to have nightmares about this, that's for sure.

The door opened, revealing Root with his wheelchair. "Come on, Harry." Root grunts as she moves his body into the wheelchair and starts wheeling him into the building.

The train station is quite large for such a small town and what he didn't expect is how the station is full of life. Filled with potential victims to Root's madness, and here he thought people don't use the train anymore.

Oh, goodness… is he an out of touch billionaire?

Root rolls him to an empty bench as she says. "I just want to see if the train's on time, Harold."

He has no reason to even reply to this woman's empty talks, not after what she just did…

"Can I remind you of our deal?" His captor went in front of him to look him in the eye. "Try anything. Innocent people get hurt."

That doesn't sound like a threat at all. It's more of a promise and all he could do is hope that John would reach here in time before Root could do anything that would add extra weight to his soul.

But that doesn't mean he will just 'stand' here and not do anything. So, Harold slowly reach for his other cufflink, making sure to be as discrete as possible as he looks at Root talking to that train station employee while making the occasional glance at him.

"The express train with direct service to Washington, D.C. will be now departing from track 12."

With the cufflink successfully uncuffed, he holds it in his palm to leave some clue for John. Harold looks up and sees some CCTV cameras. That's how John will know which train he's going to get on with that madwoman. All John has to do is to wave that police badge of his. Harold still doesn't want to know where John got that badge, and it wouldn't be hard for him to research it, but…

Root came back to him with that smile on her as her expression loosened slightly, it's a first since he met her two days ago.

"Thank goodness the train is on time, Harry." She says playfully as she takes a seat on the bench beside him.

"When was the last time you rode one?" Root asks him but he just gave her a glare to which she just playfully rolls her eyes.

"Do lighten up, Harry." Says Root as she puts her hand on his shoulder, making him stiffen up. "It's going to be a long train ride if you just keep quiet~."

She then removes her hand from him, making him instantly relax and claps her hand, then points at him. "I bet it's been a long time for you, with you being super-rich and everything."

Harold just stares at her wordlessly, not wanting to say anything to her, and he really doesn't want to acknowledge that she's right on that one.

"For me? It's been ages since I got on an AMTREK." Root said with a nostalgic smile on her as she leans onto the bench.

"You know, if you want to give me the silent treatment, don't bother." Root has this look on her that Harold couldn't place. "Because I'll outlast you… I've got a lot of practice and patience."

She leans forward and tilts her head to him. "So why don't you turn that frown upside down and just have a blast while we're at it?"

After Root said her peace, silence fell between them as an indistinct clatter filled the silence. Harold just kept an eye out to see if John could make it in time. If not, he'll have to leave his cufflink by the door of the platform they're going to take.

Time went by as they just waited for whatever train Root has in store for him. With every minute that passes, the effect of whatever drug she injected him slowly starts to wear off, not to a point where he could stand up on his own, but he can feel the energy that was gone, slowly coming back to him.

"The outbound train with direct service from Baltimore to Salt Lake City will be departing from track seven."

Root inhales as she stands up and takes her position behind him. "You'll like the west, Harry."

Like it? He hasn't been there since he was 22 and he highly doubts that Root knows he's from Iowa, unless she toiled through the FBI archives since he couldn't destroy the physical files.

"Fewer people, bigger sikes." Root starts pushing him towards the door. "More space to think."

That was what he missed the most about living on a farm, the lack of people and space, but he doesn't think he could go back to living that way anymore since he lived in a city for most of his life now.

They spent a minute queuing, then suddenly Root pushed the wheelchair away from the line.

Could it be?

"How did he find us?" Says Root, sounding more annoyed than angry.

He felt instant relief, as if a burden was removed from his shoulders.

"Because you're wrong. He proves you're wrong." Harold challenges Root. "Not all humans are bad code."

She brings him towards the back of the station away from the entrance.

"You helped him…" Root said evenly, and slightly disappointed if he's heard properly. "I told you what would happen if you tried to get away."

He looks at Root worryingly; he needs to prevent whatever she has in mind.

"Excuse me, sir." Root waves to that AMTRACK conductor.

She's going to kill that man, and he's not going to let her take another life today. All he has to do is grab John's attention so he can deal with her.

With his limited energy, Harold grabs the wheels and rolls his chair backwards so he could get a clear view of the entrance where he hopes John can see him.

John's eyes snap at him but he can't come now, so with his eyes he looks forward to Root to tell John she's there. He could feel his heart racing as the conductor came in front of Root. John can't reach here in time as he sees Root pulling out her pistol.

Using as much energy as he can muster at the moment, he pushes himself up using the wheelchair as support and purposefully falls towards Root.

BANG

The moment he hit Root; a shot was fired, making his ears ring. He lands headfirst onto the ground, causing him intense pain…

Was he hit?

"HELP!"

"SHOOTER!"

He can barely move from his position on the ground as he just feels pain and his ears ringing, all the while chaos descends into chaos. He's breathing heavily from the adrenaline pumping in his system, and yet he couldn't move much.

When suddenly his friend comes into view in front of him and says worryingly. "Don't move, don't move."

"Am I hit?" Harold couldn't help but ask. He could barely feel anything right now. Must be the shock.

John shakes his head and says. "I don't think so."

His friend then grabs him by the arm and pulls him up. "I'm sorry it took so long."

Harold turn to his side to get a better look at John who's still wearing the same clothes from two days ago. "I really didn't intend for you to come and find me, Mr. Reese."

With John's help, he's walking forwards towards the exit as he continues to say. "There are other people that need your help."

"Well, you saved my life once or twice, Harold." John instantly replies with no regret. "Seems only fair I returned the favor."

He glances at his friend as the first smile in a few days' creeps onto him. "Thank you."

John just gives him a smile as he helps him walk outside and towards freedom.

---

JOHN REESE POV

John was back in the library, sitting on a chair with his legs up on the table, waiting for Harold to come in with another number or just comes in to sit at his desk like everything's normal. Not what he experienced was normal or anything. He doesn't want to push the man after what he's been through. John can see when they were driving home that the entire episode rattled Harold to the core, not that he would say anything about it.

Either out of pride or paranoia, Harold is keeping the lid on, and he knows for experience that something like this isn't something to be bottled up. Harold might look okay right now, and he can pretend to be okay, but one day the lid is going to pop.

Maybe he should take Harold to a bar and grab some drink together to blow off some steam. Thinking about it, not once did they share a drink together in nearly a year of working with each other.

The sounds of someone limping up the stairs and opening the sliding door tears John out of reverie. He gets up from his seat and looks around to see if Bear is near him, but to no avail. He must be going about his thing in another part of the library.

Coming around the corner, he sees Harold looking at the library as if it's his first time again, then without even calling for him, Bear comes around the other corner with a book in his mouth. Hopefully, no number coming is pertinent to that book.

"Harold meet bear." John said nonchalantly as Bear sits in front of Harold with one of his books in the dog's mouth.

"Unfortunately, my apartment has a strict policy regarding dogs." John explains to Harold. The man should know that since he's the one that bought that apartment, but he might not have expected him to rescue a dog.

"I have a strict policy regarding rare first editions. Namely, don't eat them." Harold said evenly, but John could hear the gloomy tone in his voice.

Just first edition? John couldn't help but smile at Harold's expense.

"Bear, laat vallen." Said John as he waves his hand at Bear, causing the dog to drop instantly the book from his mouth.

Good boy…

Harold kneels to grab the book and inspects it. "Asimov… He has expensive taste. I'm sure we'll get along."

Not sure how expensive that book was, but it sure fits Bear's name.

Not having anything else to say, John walks forward to grab some coffee on the other side of the library.

"Mr. Reese." Harold said softly, making him halt his step. "I owe you a debt."

No, he doesn't…

Harold gave him purpose to continue on living and that's something he couldn't payback, no matter how many lives he saves or how many times he's going to pull Harold out from danger.

Just as John was about to reply to Harold, his phone rang.

Who's calling him at this hour? He met Fusco less than an hour ago, and he didn't say anything other than his usual sarcasm. Maybe Carter?

A frown form on Harold's face as if he knows who it is…

Unknown number… he might know who it is as well.

"Is this a bad time, John?" The voice of Root echoes in his ear after he answers the phone.

He gives Harold a look, and instantly his friend stiffens up.

"I wanted to thank you… for finding what's left of Hanna and giving her father closure… I won't forget it." Root sounds genuine, but he's not about it. Not after being burned by her once.

That leaves him with one thought…

How does she know there's no body? It's like she knows about it…

But that's not something he can think about right now… All the things he can think of is anger.

"Come near us again and you will be sorry." John threatens Root. Harold might not like it when he shoots someone, but this woman deserves a bullet or two in the knees.

Root just chuckles at his threat. "I don't think so… Tell Harold I'll be in touch when I'm ready."

John pockets his phone after Root hangs up and gives Harold a look.

"Oh, dear…" Harold said with some fear, basically knowing what Root had just said.

Oh dear, indeed.

---

A/N: This chapter was longer than expected. Hopefully, I captured the boys' characterization from the show. There's a few chapters left in this arc and the next chapter will be in a week or two.