Author's Note: So, this is my first crossover, and my first CSI:NY story. But I think I might write more CSI:NY stories, since it's another of my favorite shows. Anyway, I was watching the episode "Pot of Gold" the other day, and this idea just kind of grew. And grew. And grew. Yeah, I know Emily doesn't have a green coat (or if she does, we haven't seen it), but she is a beautiful brunette. That part's for sure. (: So...bear with me? Thanks a lot.

Disclaimer: I own neither Criminal Minds nor CSI:NY. Wow, does that sound lame, or what?

Mac Taylor was waiting in line at his favorite deli, Birabaum's, when a woman beside him accidentally dropped her newspaper by his foot. Being courteous, he bent down and picked it up. He extended his hand towards her, giving her the paper.

"Oh, thank you," she said, smiling slightly.

"Of course," he answered. Trying to strike up conversation, he commented, "I don't think I've seen you around here before. You're not from New York, are you?"

"Nope. Washington, DC. I'm here on business," Emily said. "How'd you guess?"

"Most of the people who come here are regulars and have been coming since it opened. Not to mention, you don't have the accent," Mac pointed out.

"True," she agreed, chuckling.

"So…business? Where do you work?" he asked curiously, accepting his pastrami sandwich as his friend Phil announced, "Number thirty-nine!"

She pulled out her badge. "FBI. What about you?"

He smiled and brandished his. "NYPD."

"New York's finest," she complimented.

"I would definitely have to agree," he said proudly. "If you don't mind me asking, where are you staying?"

"The Sheraton down by the precinct. Maybe we'll run into each other sometime."

"Maybe." His cell phone vibrated as he received a text message.

There was another murder.

"Looks serious," Emily said.

"It always is." Looking up at her, he handed her a paper slip with the number forty. "Days like this, when there's so many people, I always take two."

"Well, thank you."

"Sure." He paused. "It was nice talking to you."

"Same. Enjoy your sandwich," she said brightly.

"You too." And then he was gone.

"Number forty!" Phil yelled.

Emily turned towards the voice. "That's me."

~.~.~

That same day, Mac revisited Birabaum's for a quick coffee. He was about to leave when Phil called out to him, handing him a menu. "Hey, Mac. I got something for you."

"I memorized the takeout menu ten years ago, Phil," he teased.

He laughed. "Read the back. The pretty brunette you were talking to in here last night, she asked me if I'd give it to you next time you were in."

Mac took it. "Interesting…" he murmured. Flipping it over, he saw a small letter written in perfect handwriting. "Dear number thirty-nine," it read. "I really enjoyed speaking to you this morning. I have been to New York several times, and whether it was my bad luck or I don't know what else, I've never had a decent conversation with the people. But you were different. You proved to me that New Yorkers can be extremely welcoming. So, I guess I just wanted to say thank you for your kindness and chivalry (that ticket really helped this morning; the deli was packed!). See you soon? Yours, number forty."

Mac smiled. There was something about that woman…something that caught her attention. Something...intriguing.

Well, two could play her game.

~.~.~

Emily, Reid, Morgan, and Hotch were sitting in the hotel lobby when the concierge approached them.

"Excuse me, Miss?" she asked, addressing Emily.

"Yes?"

The woman took a closer look. "It is you," she said.

"I'm sorry. Have we met before?" Emily asked politely.

"Not exactly." She handed her a manila envelope. "But a detective approached me earlier today with this, and he said to give it to the beautiful brunette woman in the green coat. I'm assuming that's you?"

Emily blushed lightly, remembering the man from the deli. So he had gotten her letter. She nodded. "Yes. Thank you."

As the concierge walked away, Reid and Morgan voiced the same question. "What was that about?" Hotch just looked at her intently.

"We'll see," she answered vaguely, pulling a piece of paper out of the envelope. She smiled as she read the note. "Dear number forty," it began. "I'm glad the ticket helped; it was the least I could do. About New York, it really is a beautiful place if you meet the right people and visit the right sights. Maybe I could give you a tour. Hopefully you won't find me too forward for saying this, but I would really like to see you again. I know this great restaurant by your hotel. Tonight at 8:00? Yours, number thirty-nine."

"Look at that smile," Morgan commented with a smirk.

"What did it say?" Hotch asked.

"Nothing really. It's from this guy I met at a deli this morning," she answered, still smiling.

"Hot date?" Reid teased?

Running her hand over his cell phone number written at the bottom of the page, she said, "I don't know. Maybe."

"Wow. One night in New York, and already you've found someone special." Morgan.

"She's like a magnet," Reid added in agreement.

Emily arched a perfect eyebrow. "You two hang out way too much. And unfortunately, instead of the nerd rubbing off on the player, the player's rubbing off on the nerd." She turned to Hotch. "This is not good."

Hotch laughed. "It's a crisis. God help us all, because before long, our resident encyclopedia will be gone!"

Everyone else joined in with laughter.

~.~.~

Mac was buttoning his dress shirt when Reed interrupted his thoughts yet again.

"So, you, uh... you done for the day?" he asked somewhat shyly.

Mac started fixing his tie, but realized halfway through that he was doing it backwards. He chuckled quietly, then turned to the boy. "Yeah."

He paused. "Hey, do you want to go grab, like, a green beer or something?"

"Can we take a rain check on that? There's somewhere I have to be."

"Yeah. Yeah, man."

"We'll do it next time," he promised.

"Cool."

Mac walked out of his office, Reed following close behind. Before stepping into the elevator, he smoothed the front of his shirt and asked, "Do I look okay?"

Reed smiled and patted him on the back. "Yeah. You look good, man."

Mac exhaled anxiously. "Great. I'll see you later."

"Yeah. Have fun."

He smiled. "I will."

~.~.~

Emily was crossing the spacious lobby in order to leave the hotel when a voice stopped her.

"Prentiss."

She whirled around in surprise. "Hotch! Oh, you scared me," she said breathlessly.

"Sorry," he apologized, before saying awkwardly, "I know it isn't any of my business, but are you going to dinner with the detective?"

"Yes." She paused. "We are done for the day, right?" she asked apprehensively.

He nodded. "Yeah. Don't worry." He cleared his throat. "Just…be careful, alright?"

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. "Don't worry, Dad, I'll be home before curfew."

He chuckled. "Alright." She began to walk away. "And Emily?"

She turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Don't call me dad."

She laughed loudly and walked towards the door, waving a goodbye behind her. "Bye, Hotch."

He smiled. "Bye, Emily."

~.~.~

Mac took a sip of the dark coffee and briefly scanned the menu, every once and a while glancing back to see if the mysteriously beautiful woman was there yet.

"What if she isn't coming?" he thought miserably.

"So…the beautiful brunette woman in the green coat? How could you be so sure that I would receive the letter?"

Mac almost choked at the sound of her voice. He immediately stood and helped her take off her coat like a true gentleman, revealing a green silk shirt and a professional looking grey skirt underneath. "You came," he said gladly.

She smiled. "Don't sound so surprised. Mind if I join you?"

"I was kind of hoping you would. Please, take a seat," he said, motioning in front of him.

She obliged, then extended a hand for him to shake. "Hi. I'm Emily Prentiss," she said, formally introducing herself at last.

"Mac Taylor," he said with a smile, handing her a menu.

"Hmm…what's good?" she asked, perusing the selections.

He relaxed into the chair. "Everything," he said honestly.

"You're not just saying that?" she teased.

He chuckled. "No, it's the truth."

"Alright then. I'll have a salad," she said, looking up at him. "What about you?"

"I think I'll have the same."

After ordering their food, Emily spoke up. "So…about that tour of the city…were you serious?"

"Of course. Whenever you have free time, I could show you around. How long are you staying for?" he asked.

"It depends on the case. But most likely a week," she answered, thinking about when and if she was going to have free time.

"So soon," he murmured. He cleared his throat. "Well then, that means that we'll have to take the tour a day or two before you leave. Where do you want to visit?"

"You tell me, Detective Taylor," she smirked. "You're the New Yorker. I'm just another tourist."

"Well, Agent Prentiss," he said, "The Statue of Liberty is definitely a great start."

"Sounds good to me."

~.~.~

Five days later, Emily and Mac had not only visited Lady Liberty, but they had also watched a show on Broadway, gone to the Empire State Building, visited Rockefeller Center, and taken a long walk in Central Park. They were now at the landing strip, saying their goodbyes.

"I had a wonderful week," Emily said, walking with her hand in his.

"I did, too. Whenever you visit New York, feel free to stop by," Mac said, leading her to the jet.

"I will. And the same goes for you; if you're ever in the DC area, you should give me a call." She stopped and pulled a card out of her bag. Handing it to him, she said, "That has my work and cell phone numbers on it." She glanced back at the jet and her team members boarding it. "I really have to go," she said, sighing quietly.

He nodded. "Alright. Bye, Emily." Watching as she left, he flipped over her business card and smiled when he saw the pale pink lip print on the back. "Hey! Number thirty-nine!" he called out, approaching her.

She turned around, a slow smile spreading across her lips. "Yes, number forty?"

He closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her lightly. Pulling away, he looked her in the eye and said sincerely, "I'm really glad we met."

She kissed him again, ignoring everyone else around them. "I'm really glad we met, too," she murmured against his lips. Taking a step back, she said sweetly, "Goodbye, Mac. Take care."

Cupping her cheek lightly with the palm of his hand, he said, "Goodbye, Emily. Have a safe flight."

Then, with one last smile, she boarded the jet and it took off, leaving Mac Taylor in New York, staring up at the sky.

Author's Note: Feedback is much appreciated. Thanks for reading! (: