I do not own Person of Interest or any characters you may recognize - if I did, Tuesday's episode would have ended much differently!

Two years.

It had been two long, miserable, years since the FBI had whisked away from this city and everyone she loved. Yet standing in the dwindling November sunshine outside her new home in Sunset Park, Jocelyn Carter felt more like two lifetimes had passed.

"That's $47.50 ma'am," the cab driver announced as he dropped her suitcases on the sidewalk at her feet.

Joss quickly paid the steep fare without a second thought and stepped back to take in the charming brownstone with its tall windows and flower beds full of cheery yellow pansies - a far cry from the dark, cramped studio apartment she'd been sequestered to while recovering from her 'fatal' gunshot wounds.

Closing her eyes, she breathed in deeply and allowed herself a moment to revel in the familiar sounds and scents of late fall in New York City. Joss was tempted to pinch herself to make sure she was actually awake and not having another dream about returning to the Big Apple. But if that was the case she refused to wake up this time, she just didn't have the strength to face the disappointment again.

In the days following the shooting, Joss had been too groggy to understand what was going on, too weak to put up any kind of fight. When she was awake and more alert - eight days later according to a sympathetic nurse - it was too late.

Her family, friends, and colleagues were told she had died as a result of her injuries. They had held a touching funeral for her complete with military honors and a closed - and obviously empty - casket. Joss had not been able to bring herself to watch any of the footage from the service during that first year.

No one would tell her anything beyond the basic need to know information; but thanks to a loose-lipped rookie agent, she learned that SAIC Moss - who was still heading-up the federal investigation into HR - had made the decision to take her into protective custody the night Simmons shot her. The details were sketchy even years later, but somehow his cohorts at the Bureau's New York office had managed to swoop in and quietly transfer her to a private hospital across town without anyone being the wiser.

Once she was medically cleared for travel Joss had been relocated across the country to a quiet neighborhood in suburban Phoenix where she was given a new name, and a new job as a civilian secretary for the nearby Glendale police department. When she wasn't typing up arrest reports or ordering office supplies, her FBI handlers were prepping her to become the government's star witness against HR's leaders and members.

She'd had little choice in the matter - at least that's what she told herself when she felt like a coward for hiding. Joss knew she could have forfeited the FBI's protection and walked away at any time; but with HR still intact and willing to do anything to silence her, she had to stay the course. She couldn't take a chance that next time they tried to kill her Taylor, her mom, or an innocent bystander might be hurt instead. Hell she had never even been able to find out how badly John had been hurt that night.

The fact that the danger to her life and those she loved was very real didn't make her feel any better about deceiving her family, or most importantly about leaving Taylor behind.

The lead agent on her case, Benjamin Falcon, repeatedly tried to put her at ease by assuring her she could go home as soon as HR was dismantled and she testified at the corruption trials in DC. Joss had readily agreed, willing to do anything that would get her back to her baby boy, back to what she and John had started with that kiss in the morgue.

When reports of Quinn's death reached her, Joss had been elated. She had only been in Arizona four days and according to Agent Falcon, Quinn's body was found a few days after she had been gunned down. She had thought her return to New York City was imminent at that point, but Joss quickly found out that the death of HR s boss didn't mean her all expenses paid vacation was over.

In fact, that was only the beginning.

The FBI was determined that Donnelly's work - and hers - would not be in vain, which meant she was remanded to their witness protection program until each and every member was jailed…or dead. The process had been painstakingly slow, taking over a year and a half.

From the little info she had wrangled out of Falcon, the investigation had proceeded faster than anticipated thanks in large part to an unseen source that provided them with a wealth of evidence and led their agents directly to the homes of members all over the city.

Finch. She had known right away it was Harold, and the gesture was part of what kept her going during the last two years. If he could cozy up the with the FBI - digitally at least - and risk getting caught, she could do her part and make sure the bastards were dealt with once and for all.

John's part in it all left her feeling…

A sharp breeze whipped her scarf across her face, shaking her from the dreary memories. She clutched her coat tighter to her and prayed it wouldn't take long to re-acclimate to the biting NY winters after her time away in the desert heat.

Joss glanced up and down the block, surveying her surroundings out of habit; but only saw the cab driver speed away on the hunt for another passenger. With a sigh she bent to pick up her worn suitcases and climbed the front steps, a huge smile plastered across her face despite the apprehension and exhilaration chasing around in her belly.

Jocelyn Carter was finally home.

Harold Finch watched his friend walk across the deserted playground after saving their latest number from would-be assassins. His worry increased with each angry step John put between them.

John had barely spoken five words over the last three days, doing what was necessary for his job but little else. By comparison Ms. Shaw seem like Chatty Cathy.

Finch knew the reason for the man's surliness. Hell they were all a little on edge with the second anniversary of Joss' murder only days away. Mr. Reese hadn't been the same since that harrowing night two years ago, but honestly none of them were.

Joss' death had changed the whole team, and he couldn't say with any degree of certainty that they had started to recover from it. Detective Carter, their heart, had been brutally ripped away leaving them all shattered and numb.

Fusco's grief drove him to keep longer hours at the office than ever before. He dug in to each new case as if he were on a mission to live up to his partner's standards, as though he was determined to make her proud of him. Lionel had stepped up and stood shoulder to shoulder with John to take out every HR member until no one was left standing.

Ms. Shaw, an iceberg personified, had shed quiet tears throughout Joss' entire memorial service and even graciously accepted the handkerchief he offered midway through. The two women had quickly formed a bond during the Ian Murphy case. Harold was certain their mutual respect would have grown in to a lasting friendship had Joss' life not been cut short.

Or maybe it had and that's why he often found her at Sarah Lawrence's home in Newburgh, NY watching over Joss' mother and son if Mr. Reese wasn't already there.

John had experienced the most drastic changes from her death. He'd stopped eating, sleeping, shaving, and working the numbers that continued to pour in. Instead he had relentlessly stalked Patrick Simmons and Alonzo Quinn before dispensing his own unique brand of justice for Joss' murder.

The men's gruesome deaths still caused Harold to shudder when he allowed himself to think about it. John had gotten quite inventive with his torture techniques and showed no mercy to the men who had murdered his partner. It might make him a terrible person, but Finch couldn't find it in himself to feel any remorse over either man's ugly demise.

After that John divided his time between hunting down every last officer and civilian on HR's payroll and spending time with Sarah and Taylor. When he wasn't occupied with either of those pursuits, he was busy emptying out the liquor store's shelves at an alarming rate. Harold was convinced that the only thing keeping his employee tied to this earth was the promise Joss managed to wrest from him before she died in his arms.

Four months ago the last HR holdout was found dead in almost the exact spot where the whole ugly mess had started, and the FBI officially closed out its investigation into the matter. One might call that poetic justice, but in the end it didn't seem to have brought about the sense of satisfaction John was seeking.

Two more months passed before John had shown up at the library to report back to work, not exactly his old clean-shaven self, but his beard and hair were neatly trimmed. The black dress shirt underneath the black suit gave him an edgier look, especially when combined with clear blue eyes that were devoid of any of the humor and compassion that was there before.

Time was a great healer - or so he hoped - but Harold was worried about his friend. A charged tension was in the air, leaving him with the sense that something big was on the horizon, a change that had nothing to do with the upcoming shift in seasons.

Finch gripped Bear's leash tightly and limped back towards the library looking forward to a few hours of peace and quiet.

Those plans were put on hold when the relatively calm evening was disrupted by the clanging of a payphone on the corner. He sighed heavily and stopped to answer as he always did, jotting down the string of numbers before continuing on his way.

He decided to let Detective Fusco or Ms. Shaw handle the initial surveillance on this one. John could use a night off in spite of the protests he would surely raise if he knew he was being sidelined.

Back at the library Finch dumped dry food into Bear's bowl before settling down to plug the data in to his laptop…then jerked back in his chair in shock.

No, that wasn't right, it couldn't be. He ran the data again and again and again…and again, but the results were the same each time.

Bear's plaintive whine and insistent nudges against his thigh couldn't penetrate the fog stealing over him. Even with tears obscuring his view, Harold continued to stare in disbelief at the photograph of their newest number.

Jocelyn Carter.

There are so many wonderful stories/rewrites out there that deal with "The Crossing", I can't decide which is my favorite. I know this idea isn't new, and as much as I wish something like this would happen on the show - or anything really to fix what happened - I don't hold out too much hope that it will. This idea stuck with me after I watched a few clips of the episode and I've got a general idea of how the story will unfold; but let me know if it's worth continuing. Reviews, comments, or suggestions are always welcome! Thanks! Meli :-D