#herduplicate

After ensuring Harold's safety, Reese wasn't immediately able to find the others. But he was hurt, considerably, and starting to realize he might be a danger on the road. So he made his way to the subway for the sheer reason that it had beds. That's all he needed in that moment, and he was out the moment he collapsed onto one of them. Not before he got a look at the place, the bullet casings lying around, [ burn marks from a blast? ] and no subway car. That gave him hope enough that Shaw and Fusco had made it.

He had left the earpiece in less out of habit and more out of sheer exhaustion, although he had thought his phone was broken irreparably, leaving the earpiece useless. [ with the concussion he had, be didn't notice the lights still illuminated on the bottom. Even if he had, he couldn't make a call with it in that state. ] it was a wonder it hadn't fell out when the blast hit the building.

John was slowly reawakening - being woken, he wouldn't realize - not so long later to a voice in his ear. He flinches, initially, wary of who the voice belonged to before recognition resurfaces. Can you hear me? and static crackles. The ear piece barely works, but he's not deterred, raising up carefully to sit on the end of the bed. His head spins, but at least he’s not as exhausted as before.

"Yes," he croaks, throat dry- when did he last drink something?- coughs, climbs to his feet and takes a few careful, staggering steps into the station, stormy green eyes searching out the camera there, like he needed to make eye contact with it. [ he had grown from doubting the machine to respecting her a great deal in the years he had been employed by Harold Finch. ]