Got Your Number--a Person of Interest/NCIS crossover

Cat and Mouse

CAFEEXTCAM2 10/30/2012 11:44:13

Abby gaped in amazement at this strange vision that had suddenly landed in the seat across from her. "Whu... YOU!" She said, pointing. "I recognize you! You're the cute guy from the other day! Rob... Robinson! That's what you said your name was!"

"Good memory," nodded the man amiably.

"Is Robinson really your name, though?" asked Abby, cocking her head on one side. "Because honestly, you look nothing like a Robinson. That was bugging me all last night, I kept thinking, man, that guy doesn't look like a Robinson, he looks like a Bysensky or a Caviezel or a Smith. Not Robinson. I even did a search on Robinsons in the New York City area, but there were a whole butt-load of them and my computer doesn't..." Somewhere in the back of her mind, the rest of her caught up with the man's statement. "Wait. What kind of danger?"

"The deadly kind." The man informed her.

Abby studied the man. "Do I know you? I mean, apart from running into you yesterday. Because, no offense, but that kinda sounded like a threat, and generally you only get threats from people you know." She blinked for a bit, considering alternatives. "Unless, of course, you're just talking in a general sort of sense, in which case I'll just tell you what I told Ziva, and that is that New York is perfectly safe! They had a big drop in violent crimes just last year and..."

"Abby." The man held up his hand to stop her talking. "That's not what I meant."

"Ohhhhhhh. Well good, because statistically that makes no sense." Abby smiled brightly. "Although that still doesn't explain the threat-en-ey vibe of what you're saying. Wait." Eyes narrowing, she raised a finger. "Are you sure I don't know you? Because you just called me Abby—in fact, I think you did it before, too—and I'm pretty sure I didn't tell you what my name was."

"You didn't."

"Good, that's what I thought, and I... I..." Abby stopped and bit her lip. "And... that's kind of creepy, now that I think about it."

The man smiled reassuringly. "I guess it must seem that way." He coughed. "Perhaps this might help." Reaching into his coat, he produced a badge. "Detective Stills, NYPD, Organized Crime. We have intel that suggests you might be tied to a recent string of violent crimes."

"So you're NOT a Robinson! I knew it! But you don't really look like a Stills, either." Again cocking her head, Abby wrinkled her forehead in thought. "And how am I supposed to be involved in a violent crime here in New York? I'm here on vacation."

"With all due respect, miss, our intel is never wrong." The man (Abby REALLY couldn't see him as a Stills) answered, still smiling.

"See now, it's weird you call me miss, not because cops don't call people 'miss,' they do, all the time, like the nice traffic officer I filed the accident report with yesterday, but the weird thing is that you call me miss NOW when before you called me Abby which isn't really a... police thing to do." Abby put down her sandwich and scooted back on her seat a little. "Which, again, not helping with the whole creepiness thing." Her right hand disappeared into her purse.

"Easy," said the man, raising his hand placatingly. "Just... take it easy. Look, I'm sorry if I scared you when I introduced myself. I've always had a problem with being..." Smiling, he shrugged. "...a bit too informal. My boss is always ragging me about it."

Abby smiled, just a little. "Yeah. I get that some too."

"Listen, Abby... sorry, Miss Scuito." The man had the grace to look faintly embarrassed. "I can't explain it all to you now, but you're a person of interest in a string of cases. We have reason to think that your life may be in danger. That's why I was following you yesterday." He explained. "I came out here because another person of interest died rather suddenly and we think the killer may be out to cover his tracks."