A/N: I've been a bit busy with life lately and I'm kinda sorta hoping I can do this. I'm a fan of NCIS and CSI: Miami and I've always wondered what would happen if the two should meet...

Chapter 1

She didn't appear to be asleep so much as she was watching the world go by through the window. Lieutenant Horatio Caine studied the brunette woman, the bandage on her forehead a sharp contrast against her dark chocolate hair, hair he knew well. He had run his fingers through it often enough.

He could see scrapes and bruises on her face and arms, testament to the trip in the swamp she had taken. CSI Jesse Cardoza, who was trying to assist in the case, had yet to be able to determine just where she had gone in the water. According to Jesse, their investigation was made even more difficult by the fact that she couldn't remember who she was or what had happened. To complicate matters, she was refusing to submit DNA or fingerprints, believing whoever had tried to hurt her might come back to finish the job if they knew she was still alive. Who, she didn't know, why, she didn't know. Only that she did and she was steadfast in her belief.

Horatio knew who she was. He had known for months and he could understand her concern, even if she didn't. Her name was Special Agent Janet McAllister and she was a federal agent for Naval Criminal Investigative Service, or NCIS. He knew her because they were seeing each other and had been doing so for about three months. She had disappeared last night, when she was supposed to meet him for dinner and had never shown up despite repeated calls to her cell. Now he knew why.

As if sensing his eyes on her, Janet turned her head towards him and looked at him.

"I know you," she said, her hand reaching out to him.

"You do," he said, coming in to the room and taking her hand, putting the bag he'd brought beside the bed.

She sat up and with a sigh, reached for him. She relaxed when he wrapped his arms around her and laid her head against his shoulder.

"I'm not going crazy," she said.

"No more than I am," he said, gently rubbing her back the way he knew she liked. He felt her smile against his shoulder.

After a moment she let him go and lay back against the bed. He pulled up a chair and sat down.

"Who am I?" she asked, never taking her eyes off him.

"You are Janet McAllister, a supervisory federal agent for Naval Criminal Investigative Service," he said. "I am Lieutenant Horatio Caine, Miami-Dade CSI. We've been seeing each other for about three months."

"I'm not from around here, am I?"

"No; you transferred from Washington, D.C. about four months back. We met at a convention there and apparently something I said to you got you thinking. Shortly afterwards, you requested a transfer to Miami and your boss agreed, both deciding you needed a change."

"That explains why nothing really feels familiar; I haven't been here long enough." He nodded. She continued to study him. "Do I sleep with a gun under my pillow?"

"You mentioned it to me once, yes," he said. "You've been a federal agent for twelve years and you were a patrol officer for five before joining NCIS."

"So old habits die hard," she said.

"That, sweetheart, is correct."

She nodded. "What happened to me?"

"What do you remember?"

She rubbed her head. "Fragments. I keep seeing a window explode and I keep feeling my head suddenly hurting. A voice, maybe mine, maybe someone else, keeps screaming something but I can't make out what's being said. And a strong sense of urgency that something is very, very wrong."

"Okay. What we do know is sometime late last night a group of teenagers partying along a local waterway spotted you floating downstream while holding on to a piece of debris. Not sure if you were dead or alive, they brought you to shore and discovered you were very much alive but with a bullet graze to your temple," Horatio said. "You had no identification on you and you weren't coherent. There is no evidence on you to suggest you were involved in any kind of struggle so I suspect you were caught off-guard. The only thing we do know for sure is that you may have been shot at while you were in a vehicle because of the bruise on your left collarbone, suggesting a seatbelt." Janet reached up and rubbed the aforementioned bruise.

"And the vehicle I was in?"

"No sign of it," he said. "However, I did have my people start looking for your car, a blue 2010 Mustang convertible I know you were very fond of."

"Okay. What happens now?"

"Now, now you rest, sweetheart. I brought a change of clothes as well as a few personal items for you so you would feel more comfortable," he said. "Until the doctor clears you, you will remain here under the name of 'Jane Doe' until I can guarantee your safety."

"And you?" she asked.

"I am going to make a few phone calls and call someone in to find out who wanted you gone."

"The sooner I get out of here, the better," she said. "I hate hospital food and I'm craving real coffee."

He smiled. Yup, memory loss or not, she was going to be just fine. "I'll raid your favourite take-out place as soon as possible," he promised, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles (how many times had he done such a thing?).

She nodded. "Go. Go catch the bad guys," she said, letting go of his hand and reaching for the nurse call button. "I need a shower and I don't think asking you to join me would be very appropriate."

He leaned close and whispered, "Maybe not here...." Just as he'd hoped, her ears went scarlet and he left the room, grinning.

He spoke briefly to the charge nurse, informing her of the situation and she agreed to leave the name 'Jane Doe' on Janet's file for now, promising to call for a discrete security guard to check on her regularly.

Then he left the hospital and took out his cell, pulling up a number he'd entered in to it before leaving the crime lab. After two rings, there was an answer.

"Yeah, Gibbs," a male voice said.

"Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs?" Horatio asked.

"Speaking," Gibbs said.

"We need to talk."