A/N ~ Story is based on a scene from the movie Out of Sight. This hasn't been beta'd, so excuse the errors. Hope you enjoy!

I do not own Person of Interest or any of their characters.

Carter looked outside at the street below. She was seated in Shivers, the bar located in the hotel she'd checked into just this morning. Raindrops started to pelt against the thick glass and caught her attention. It was a gloomy night; the streets were dark, crowded, and everyone seemed restless. Their mood reflected her own.

What if?

The question plagued her again tonight, just as it had over the last six months.

What if? she wondered, thinking of him. Of John Reese.

What if they'd met at a different time? In a different place and under much different circumstances?

What if?

What if she wasn't chasing the Man In A Suit? What if she hadn't been assigned to the FBI task force under Special Agent Nicholas Donnelly to catch him? What if she didn't have to arrest him on sight for previous crimes he'd been implicated in and was most likely guilty of?

Just…what if?

Since the day they'd met in a New York precinct they'd played a lovely game of cat and mouse. She'd get ever so close to him, only to have him slip through her fingers time and time again. He'd even saved her life a few times. She'd been lucky he was around to save the day. She'd even spoken to him on the phone, told him how much she appreciated how him being there when she needed him. The sound of his voice on the other line was deep, sultry; his timbre almost like a lullaby for her soul.

He'd flirted with me, she thought with a smile.

She stared at a billboard and shook her head thinking of how he'd teased her, told her she was sexy, and that he'd wanted to kiss her. Of course she'd had to pretend that she wasn't affected. Had to pretend that she was immune to how he'd practically made love to her with his voice. Had to ignore how his words felt like sensual touches on her skin. She'd closed her legs and clenched at the thought of his hands and lips in intimate places.

She thought back to the twenty minute ride in the back trunk of his associate's car and how it had provided a small reprieve from the push and pull of their unique relationship. It was an opportunity for them to slow down for a bit and talk to each other. Another situation of the illegal kind had put him directly in her sights again. She'd caught up with him, was about to read him his rights when he'd disarmed her and pulled her into the trunk with him right before his partner with the wire framed glasses drove off. Instead of convincing her to call off her investigation into his past and find out who she really was, he spent the whole time asking her questions.

What was her favourite movie? What did she like to do for fun? How would she describe her perfect date? In hindsight, she knew she should have been scared for her life. He and his partner could've been taking her for the last ride of her life, but something told her that they weren't.

So, she let him in. For twenty minutes she pulled back the curtain on Joss Cater and revealed the woman behind the badge.

And for a brief moment, she had gotten to know John.

He'd mentioned a few details from his time in the military and spoke fondly of an old girlfriend named Jessica. But while her head rested on his chest and his hand stayed perched atop her thigh…it had felt like they were the only two people in the world.

She'd felt like they'd reached a point of intimacy, a fact that had shocked her to her core, and when the car had come to a stop not two blocks from her house before driving away, she realized she'd already missed it. Her walk home was filled with thoughts of his eyes, his voice, his hands, and nothing else. The case was a distant memory for the rest of the evening.

What if?

After a fifteen minute wait, her waitress finally returned with her drink. She was the only server on tonight, so Carter simply said thanks the plucky blonde and tamped down her impatience. Bourbon wasn't her usual choice of alcohol, but she wanted something strong and smooth. She took a sip, then rested the glass down in front of her. It was only eight 'o clock, and she'd felt as if this day had already gone on forever.

"Can I buy you a drink?"

She was about to decline the offer, when she recognized the voice behind her. She'd know it anywhere, anyplace, any time. A slow smile spread across her face as he rounded the table and faced her. She took in the sight of him, eyed him up and down and felt butterflies in her stomach. He looked tall, handsome, and so damn sexy.

She stared down at her almost untouched glass of bourbon in front of her and bit her bottom lip. "Yeah, I'd love one."

"May I sit?" he asked, wearing a sly smile. She wanted to knock that damn smirk off his face, but she smiled back instead.

"Sure," she replied.

She studied the lines of his face when he sat down, the straight nose, blue eyes that in this light seemed a sea green, and then his mouth. If Donnelly walked in and caught them right now she'd have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. She didn't want to think about the case though. She didn't want to think about how she should be hauling his ass away in handcuffs. She didn't want to remember who either of them was right now.

She just wanted her what if. Just for a moment. Maybe…just for tonight.

"I'm Richard," he said. The look in his eye, the tease. It was an invitation. He wanted the what if, too.

"I'm Cecile."

He looked around for the waitress, tried signaling to her, but failed to get her attention.

"It takes a while to get a drink around here," she said. "There's only one server."

He noticed the group of guys at the bar who'd been ogling her since she first sat down. Their disapproval was evident. "They bothering you?"

"Not so much I can't handle it."

"Maybe we should leave," he suggested.

"No," she said. "We just got here." She pushed her glass across the table. "Help yourself."

He put the glass to his lips, taking a small sip. "You like bourbon?"

"I love it," she lied.

He leaned in as the glass hit the table and grinned. "What do you do for a living Cecile?"

She leaned in too, enjoying the tiny flirtation. "I'm a sales rep. I was supposed to meet a client tonight, but…he didn't show."

"I'm positive it was his loss."

She felt warm as his eyes swept over her, twiddled her fingers together under the table. There was heat between them. It was potent, so tangible that she felt like she was wrapped up in it.

Outside the rain was turning into snow, the harsh sound of the raindrops turning into something softer, cozier.

"It definitely was," she said softly.

"I like your hair."

She could smell his cologne. It was woodsy, earthy. She liked it. "Thanks."

"I like it a lot. I like your outfit, too."

She grinned again, idly looking down at the form fitting skirt that hugged her curves in the right places. He wouldn't know that just by looking at her across the table, however. The cashmere turtle neck she wore over it was stylish, but also protected against the cold.

"How long have you been in the sales industry?" he asked.

"Not long."

"Do you like it?"

"I like it. I'm not sure it likes me. It's a male dominated field most of the time. Not sure how far I can go. I do get to meet some really interesting people sometimes. Some more than others."

"I think you're being too hard on yourself. I think you could go very far."

She cocked her head to the side, watched him as he watched her. "I'm wondering how far I can go tonight."

He blushed, and she could barely believe it. Her eyes fell to his lips. He was smirking again. She wanted to kiss him. So bad. "So Richard…what do you do for a living?"

"So where do you want to take this, Joss?" he asked, dropping the charade.

He was trying to bring them back to reality, but she wasn't sure she wanted to just yet. "No, don't do that, " she said. "Not yet."

She wanted to stay in this moment a little bit longer. If they could continue to pretend they were strangers, maybe the illusion could work for tonight. Maybe the reality of who they really were could be forgotten if they pretended that reality simply didn't exist.

"Maybe that could work for somebody else. Not for us Joss."

He knew what she wanted. Knew she wanted the fantasy, but perhaps, the reality of what was behind his eyes was worth exploring more.

"I've never played this game before," she started.

"It's not a game."

"Isn't it?"

"Not to me, Joss. I'm not playing."

Reese had made it a point to be playful when he sought her out; he wanted to keep the mood light. He introduced himself as 'Richard' because he wanted a do over. He had wanted to free their second meeting of the excess baggage that had attached itself to the first one. He wanted to give that to her, help her be comfortable, but he also wanted her to know that while he had been playful, he was very serious when it came to how he felt about her.

"It's like meeting someone for the first time. You see them when you're walking down the street. There's just something about them that catches your eye. And long after you're gone, you start to wonder what if. Did I miss my chance? Why didn't I stop and said something? I don't want to think about the two of us Joss, years down the road and wonder why we let this chance pass us by. I don't want to wonder about how we could've been together."

She looked thoughtful. He knew what he was saying was daunting, terrifying for her because of who she was, but she didn't look away or back down. It gave him a glimmer of hope.

"How many times do people get a chance like that?" he asked. "It may only have happened a few times in your life."

She focused on his shoulder for a moment before meeting his gaze again. "Or once."

He met her honesty with a little of his own and nodded. "Or once."

She slid the glass towards him again, and he took another drink. It felt warm as it went down, a comfortable balance to the chill that started to creep through the glass next to them. He slid it back to her and she put a hand over his before he could let go.

Seconds felt like hours as she looked deep into his eyes. Their souls seemed to reach an understanding of what they were feeling and what they were about to do. The feel of her fingers as they slid away to grip the glass and take a drink herself, sliced through him. He wanted her. So badly. Needed her. So much.

She toyed with a tendril of hair that fell over her face, tucked it behind her ear, but when she bent her head it came loose again. She was frustrated with it, but he leaned in closer, tucked it behind her ear himself. He raised her chin to look him square in the eye and she put a hand over his wrist. He held her hand for a while, and they sat in silence. He wondered if she'd say something, do something, but he had to wait for her, had to pause for her cue. She was the one with the most to lose.

"Let's get out of here," she said softly and got up from the table.

He followed, finally seeing the way her hips swayed in her skirt. "Yeah."