Author's Note: This story is a better late than never belated birthday gift for PiscesChikk. She asked for a one-shot for Careese in a scenario like the movie Out of Sight (starring Jennifer Lopez and George Clooney). The scene from the movie is where they pretend to be different people for one night instead of the fugitive bank robber and U.S. Marshal they really are. I hope you enjoy.

Author's Note II: For anyone waiting on an update on any of my other fics, I promise to update them soon. Life has very much gotten in the way. Thanks for understanding and the nudges to continue. Also, this story is unbeta'd so please excuse any errors you find.

Disclaimer: I don't own Person of Interest or Out of Sight. Story is for entertainment purposes only.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Joss Carter looked up to see a man of average height, average build, and below average looks. She saw his nervousness and mentally gave him an A for effort in his attempt to approach her, but right now all she wanted was to be left alone with the drink she currently had and her thoughts.

"I'm sorry, but I'd really like to have a quiet night with a drink," she replied in a light and polite tone, hoping that he'd just leave and go back to his friends.

Instead of leaving, he took a seat across the table and began to yammer on and on about his sales job of meeting different vendors for some new margarita mix and she soon found her temper getting the best of her. "Listen," she started, cutting him off in the middle of his story, "get lost. Leave." He sat there, mouth agape in surprise at her less than polite rebuff of his advances. He finally got the message and left to go back to the bar with his friends.

Joss took deep breath and released it slowly before she took a sip of her bourbon. As she looked out to the Detroit skyline, she was once again lost in thought. She had seen and experienced a lot in her years as a detective for the NYPD, but she had never dealt with a perp quite like this. Maybe perp wasn't the best word to use to describe him, her man in the suit, but that particular handle could get a little wordy at times. Maybe she could call him a hero. There were a number of people who'd say he was. She wasn't sure if she was one of them.

Hero... Hero? She tossed the word around in her mind for a bit. Even whispered it softly to get a feel for it. Hmm... Nah, that's overkill. Sure he'd saved lives and had even "gift-wrapped" a few street punks and dealers for her with enough evidence to lock them away, but could she really call him a hero? She barely knew him, didn't even know his last name. When she stopped actively chasing after him, he took it as an indication that she was interested in taking part in his crusade.

Oh yeah, he had tried to get her to join him in his little vigilante endeavor, all clean shaven and smooth; handsome as sin in a lavender shirt with a slick smile and blue eyes that twinkled with mischief. He was just so... arrogant and smug. He'd acted like it was a game of cat and mouse between them and she wasn't one for games. Joss Carter was a woman who would not be trifled with and in the end, she'd declined his offer. She had maintained her distance and mainly looked the other way at times when she should have locked his ass up. She'd thought it was for the best since her role as a cop had limitations that a vigilante didn't have.

Vigilante? Hmmm... At one point that would have been an apt description for him, until he'd caught the attention of the Feds. Special Agent Donnelly had been relentless in his mission to catch her man in the suit and on a fateful day over three weeks ago, he'd finally got his man. The man in the suit had been arrested, fingerprinted, and booked along with three other men. Donnelly had asked her if she could identify him, the man she had been "chasing down" for nearly a year now. She'd told him she couldn't, but that was a lie. A big fat whopper of a lie and she had a sneaking suspicion that Donnelly could see through her lie. He'd held the suspects at Riker's under the guise of the Patriot Act until they got back the results of the prints and DNA samples.

Suspect? No, that still didn't quite fit. His prints, DNA, and background story during their tense interrogation checked out. According to the FBI database and extensive research on every person in his background, John Warren was exactly who he had said he was... Until the fire alarms went off and there was an unusual power outage at Riker's. There was a prison riot and many men were injured, including Warren. Joss was certain in her belief that the melee had been orchestrated by former mobster Carl Elias. Due to the severity of his injuries, Warren had to be transferred from Riker's to the nearest medical facility. But neither the ambulance nor Warren ever made it to the hospital making him the most wanted fugitive in the tri-state area.

Fugitive? Yeah, that's a dead ringer for what he was right now but that still didn't fit. Donnelly had included her in the task force to hunt him down. He had even promised her a position with the FBI after the search was over and Warren was in custody once and for all. They'd been tracking him down for nearly two weeks and each new lead would guide them to a dead end. It always seemed like he was two, maybe even three steps ahead.

They had received a tip that brought them to Detroit, but it appeared that tip led them to yet another dead end. Donnelly had wrapped things up in the briefing this afternoon and everyone in the task force was set to leave in the morning once again, licking their wounds. Joss sighed in frustration before taking another sip of her drink. She didn't know if Donnelly was either too stupid or too stubborn to realize that they were getting played by Warren. Even if he had been in this godforsaken city, which Joss knew for a fact that he hadn't, he would have left town before they even got here.

Hero, vigilante, suspect, fugitive. There was no label you could put on him. He was all of the above, yet none of these labels were a perfect fit. They looked good on paper, but rang false in person, just like the last name of his alias. Warren. In the interrogation room, what he told her felt true, matched what Donnelly could find, but she knew something was off. Warren was more than some random businessman in the wrong place at the wrong time. He was a man with a mysterious past on a path to redemption. He was simply just...

"John?" It was like déjà vu with this man. Once again he sat across from her with that arrogant, smug, self-serving smile and blue eyes filled with amusement. No lavender shirt this time, she thought with a bit of disappointment.

"I hear you and Donnelly have been searching high and low for me all over Detroit. I figured I'd fly out to see why there was such a fuss. I just checked in and lucked out seeing you here." He reached across the table and grazed her free hand with his fingers.

It was a simple touch, but with his proximity, the atmosphere of the hotel bar, the lights twinkling in the skyline, and the beginning flurries of snow, it felt very romantic. She felt a spark and wondered if he felt it too. With his other hand, he took her highball glass and took a sip of her remaining bourbon before setting it back on the table and sliding it into her hands, touching her once more.

She said nothing, still reeling from seeing him here. He was playing with fire, and taking unnecessary risks. It's what got him caught and arrested in the first place. It was a bold move, cocky but incredibly sexy. She wondered if the size of his ego lived up to the size of his... What the hell was wrong with her? She should be arresting him, not wondering how big his dick was.

"Bourbon? Hmm, I pegged you as more of a gin and tonic kind of woman." He leaned in closer to her over the table to meet her eyes, drawing her in.

Not being able to resist the pull, she leaned forward as well until their faces were inches apart. "Only when the mood hits."

He reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and softly caressed her face, slowly letting his fingers run down her neck. His touch was slight, barely there; but her skin warmed with his touch. Either she needed to drink less bourbon or she needed to get laid. It had been months, shit nearly a year since she'd had someone to scratch her itch. The man sitting across from her, so close that she could lean forward and taste the bourbon on his lips, would be a great option in another lifetime. But in this lifetime, sleeping with him would be the equivalent of playing with matches sitting in a tub of alcohol. She was bound to get burned.

"How'd you find me? How'd you know I was here?" Joss knew it was an empty question, but she had to ask.

She didn't bother with asking him why he took the risk of showing up here with her. The fact that he even approached her let her know that he'd been here for quite some time, hiding in plain sight, watching her. The thought of him watching her didn't damper her attraction to him. It turned her on. She promptly sat back in her chair to put some much needed space between them.

"A little birdie told me," he replied stoically, but she could read the playfulness in his eyes.

Joss looked around the bar to see if anyone was watching them. She knew there wasn't anyone around, he was too smart for that, but she needed an excuse to not look at him. "You shouldn't be here John," she said softly.

John sighed. "Okay, let's start over. Can we start over?"

She looked at him in confusion, trying to figure out what game he was playing. "What? John—"

"Who's John? I'm Gary, just a salesman passing through town. And you are?"

He was flirting with her. He was pretending to be someone else for one night and he wanted her to come along for the ride. He wanted her to be there with him in this small world he'd created for himself. For just one night. Could she do that? Would it be worth the risk? What would happen after tonight? He'd still be on the run and she'd still be pretending to want to catch him, throwing Donnelly off his scent. But would he want to see more of her? Would she want to see more of him? She gave herself a mental shake. Get it together, Joss. It's not that serious. Get your itch scratched.

John looked at her expectantly, waiting for her reply. Waiting on her to buy into this idea of role play and pretending to be who they weren't. Pretending to be two strangers without baggage hooking up in a hotel bar.

"I'm... Loretha," she finally answered with a smirk. "But my friends call me Cookie." Fuck it, she was going to have a whole lotta fun with this. Consequences be damned.

"Cookie, huh?" he asked with an amused grin. "So what brings you to Detroit, Cookie?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yep. He's very elusive. Can't ever get a hold of him. He always seems to slip out of my grasp."

"Slippery motherfucker, isn't he?" His grin was wider than ever.

"Yeah, he's a real asshole," Joss replied with narrowed eyes. "But I'd rather not talk about work. I don't care what you're here to sell and I don't want to think about the... what was it?" She snapped her fingers. "Ah yes, the slippery motherfucker."

"Well what do you want to talk about?"

She leaned forward again, closer to him now than she had been moments earlier. "I think we should take the rest of this conversation upstairs. Don't you?"