TITLE: A Number of Things

AUTHOR: coolbyrne

RATING: No more than a PG, I'd think.

SPOILERS: "Butterflied", but that's about it.

DISTRIBUTION: If you like it, by all means take it.

DISCLAIMER: CSI characters belong to… well, a bunch of people. Of whom I am not one. Tony Hill, Carol Jordan and most of the Brits in this fic belong to Val McDermid, author of the fantastic series, "The Wire in the Blood". That would not be me, either.

CLASSIFICATION: CSI/Wire in the Blood cross-over. Case file with a splash of G/S.

FEEDBACK: Compliments and/or criticisms are greatly appreciated. Flames will be mocked in other forums. Send any combination of the above to: [email protected]

SUMMARY: Sara's holiday in England includes Tony Hill and… MURDER! *Dun-dun-DAAAA!* (Sorry.) But really? Just an excuse to get three of my favourite characters in a story together.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: A couple of things. This is probably more "Wire" heavy than "CSI" heavy, but I hope there's enough CSI to justify archiving it under the CSI banner. As well, this is an extension of my fic, "In the Blood", though not a sequel, per se. It's not necessary to read the first in order to "get" this one. Regarding Tony and Carol- I'm sort of going with the inference at the end of the book "The Last Temptation" that they are slowly moving towards a relationship with one another. I'm torn between events and characteristics in the novels and those that happen/appear on the television series. I sort of decided to try for the middle. I hope it works. And my many thanks to Jo, beta reader and English woman extraordinaire. *grin*

*

"Time off?" Grissom asked, as if he had just learned the phrase.

Sara stood in front of his desk and grinned, "Yeah, you know, time off. Time away from work."

His eyes narrowed at the realization she was making fun of him, though a serious thought occurred to him. "Are you okay? And I don't mean you'd have to be sick to be thinking of time off…" he trailed off. He tried again. "I just mean, things okay?"

Her attitude softened at his question. "Yeah, I'm good. I'm not sick." She raised an eyebrow, as if surprised with herself. "I'm just taking a holiday."

"A vacation?"

Unable to resist mocking his bewilderment, she dryly delivered, "I don't know what's come over me."

"Very funny." He looked down at her request and reached out for a pen. "When were you thinking of going on this… vacation?"

"Next month, from the 15th to the 29th."

He jotted this down. "You seem to have this thought out."

"Yeah," she answered, "I'm going to England. Spend a week or so in London, then head up to Bradfield to visit Tony."

"Tony?"

"Tony Hill."

"The psychologist who helped us with that serial killer?"

"One and the same."

Grissom absently tapped his pen on the desk. "I didn't realize you two had kept in contact."

She shrugged. "We've been emailing each other pretty regularly."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Mostly work-related stuff, tossing theories back and forth. And since he's a psychologist, I can get all my therapy for free." She smiled. "It's been… nice."

He had the good grace to close his mouth before it dropped completely to the desk. Scribbling his name on her request form, he muttered, "Tell Dr. Hill I said hello."

*

"You fancy a bite to eat?"

Carol tilted her head. "I thought your friend Sara was arriving today?"

Tony's eyes narrowed, then slowly widened as the realization hit him. "Damn! Damn, damn, damn." He scrabbled his folders and papers together and dared to look at his watch.

"How late are you?" Carol asked.

"Oh, not really late. Only about… well, an hour." He saw her shake her head. Satisfied that he had collected everything he needed, he said, "Will you come by later on?"

She scrunched up her nose. "Do you really want me to?" she asked reluctantly.

"Yes, I really want you to. I'd love you to meet each other." Seeing her hesitate, he added, "You'll get along famously. Beautiful, intelligent, independent. It will be like looking in the mirror for you." He paused and gave this some thought. "Except she's a brunette." He paused again. "And a bit shorter." Reaching out his hand from the armload of paper he was holding, he tapped the front of his teeth. "And she has this very adorable gap between her teeth."

Carol slapped his arm. "Go on, then! I'll see you later tonight. And you'd better hope she's not exactly like me, because I'd wring your neck if you were an hour late."

"Worse," he said, "she's in forensics. She'd know where to hide my body."

Carol's look spoke volumes.

"Right, right, I'm off." He made it as far as the doorway before turning back and stepping inside the office.

"You forget something?" Carol asked.

"Yes."

He walked towards her until only the folders in his arms separated them. She glanced nervously into his startling blue eyes until his lips touched her own. After a brief connection, he began to pull away, but the feel of her hand on his arm kept him in place. A moment longer, and she was the first to break the contact.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked into hers.

"Well, that was unexpected," she said. Seeing his mouth open to speak, she quickly added, "But… enjoyable."

He raised his eyebrows and gave a quiet, "Ah." Still searching her eyes, he ventured, "So that was all right, then?"

She smiled and touched his lips with her finger. "Yeah, I'd say that was all right. And now you're even more late."

"Right!" And with that, he was gone, a study of barely controlled panic as he left her office.

*

At the sound of the car pulling up to the curb, Sara looked up from her paper and smiled. From her perch at the top of the steps in front of his apartment, she watched as Tony wrenched on the handbrake and almost fell out of the car in his haste.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," he chanted as he reached the foot of the steps and looked up to her. "I got caught up in a case, lost track of time, came as soon as I remembered." He stopped, out of breath. Holding out his arms, he said, "Well, come on then."

She put down her paper and jogged down the six steps to greet him. Embracing, he said, "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too."

Parting, he looked around and asked, "Do you have luggage?"

"Yeah," she answered. "It's in the trunk." She paused and corrected. "Sorry, I mean 'boot'."

"Very good. We'll make sure no one will be able to understand a single word you're saying when you get home." They walked around to the back of her car and removed the lone bag.

"You travel light," he noted.

"Well, I tried to guess what kind of weather I should expect, then narrowed it down to bringing practically everything or practically nothing. I figured I'd take my chances."

He couldn't help but smile. "Probably for the best. I'm sure we can come up with something should you need anything extra." He took her bag and they made their way up the steps. "Did you find the place okay?" He answered before she had the chance. "Of course you did, you're here. Were you waiting long?"

"No, only about an hour." She flashed him a sideways grin.

"I really am sorry about that."

"It's okay," she said, "I picked up a tea and a paper from the coffee shop down the street."

He unlocked the door to his flat and gave her a puzzled look. Looking down the road, he marveled, "There's a coffee shop?"

*

"I've got the top floor," he said as he gestured her up the stairs. "Come in. Don't mind the mess."

As they weaved their way through his deceptively large living room, she couldn't help but marvel at the books. Piles of books. On the floor, on the desk, on the computer, tipped precariously off the edge of every flat surface it seemed. Beyond the few photographs in the room, she couldn't make out much more that would give her an insight to her host. Then something on his desk caught her eye.

"A clean desk is a sign of a cluttered mind," she read out loud.

Tony turned at her voice and saw her looking at the sign taped to the side of his computer.

"From Carol," he explained. "I began to tell her there was no actual medical correlation between casual order and the thought process when I realized it was a joke." He pushed open a nearby door. "Not the Hilton, but I hope it's all right."

The room couldn't have been any more of a contrast to the living room if it had tried. A neat double bed rested in the corner and a nightstand stood beside it, bearing only a small lamp. In the opposite corner sat a desk free of books; only a few folded towels took up any room of the surface. An oval rug on the hardwood floor completed the spartan picture. Sara looked at Tony, her eyebrows raised in amusement.

"Like my mind, only parts of the flat are cluttered," he mused dryly. He dropped her bag on the foot of the bed and turned to her. "Is this going to be all right?"

"I was going to ask you that," she said. Seeing his questioning look, she went on, "Is this going to be okay? Me staying here?"

"Of course, why wouldn't it be? That's what a spare room is for. If I don't use it to put friends up for a few nights, it will just become another place to store books."

She smiled. "Okay. I just wanted to make sure…" her voice trailed off, unsure of how to approach the subject. She wasn't surprised when he picked it up himself.

"Ah," he nodded knowingly, "you mean Carol." When she nodded in return, he paused, then asked, "Can I get you something to drink?"

She couldn't think of a response to his change of subject other than, "Sure."

"Good."

Outside the room he pointed to the door next to her own. "The loo."

"Bathroom."

"Right. And my room's at the end of the hall. I don't sleepwalk –as far as I know –so it should be an uneventful stay in that regard."

They walked back through the living room to the kitchen, which was just off to the left. He opened various cupboards and identified the contents.

"Cups and glasses. Plates and bowls. Saucepans. Cutlery. Food's over in the larder. There may actually be things in the fridge. Whether or not they're edible is another question. Quite frankly, I don't do a lot of cooking, but please, whatever I have here is yours; feel free to help yourself to anything."

Sara walked up to the fridge and smiled broadly. Seeing her expression, Tony tilted his head. She pointed to the paper magnetized to the metal. "Take out menus."

"Take-away," he helpfully corrected. "Great curry, that place." He turned and filled the kettle at the sink. "I hope you don't mind instant. I don't seem to have any real coffee."

"I'm enjoying tea these days. If you have it."

He lowered his head and gave her an indignant look from under raised eyebrows.

*

Several minutes later, they returned to the living room, cup of tea in hand, and sat across each other in black leather chairs.

Sara looked around and smirked. "Do you have these chairs set up this way on purpose?"

"Sorry?"

"Two chairs opposite each other. Very doctor/patient."

He hid a sly smile behind the rim of his cup. "So, how is Dr. Grissom?"

She covered her surprise with a quick retort. "Is this a way to get the conversation back to Carol?"

The cup paused at his lips. Taking a sip of the hot liquid, he then continued, "So, how did you find London, then?"

Her eyes lit up. "I loved it!"

"Do tell. Did you do the whole double-decker bus tour?"

She nodded. "Yeah. Did all the touristy things. The bus thing. Piccadilly Circus. The Science Museum. The Tower of London. But once I got that out of my system, I did other things. Spent an entire afternoon in Hyde Park. Went to Kensington Market and bought things U.S Customs won't believe." He smiled at this. "Spent another day enjoying your very efficient subway system."

"You mean the Tube?" Tony asked. When she nodded, he mirrored the motion. "Fantastic microcosm of humanity. I often wonder, as I look at the occupants of my carriage, if a crisis were to occur while we were all trapped together, which one of us would be the first to snap."

She laughed.

"And I always come to the same conclusion," he went on. He waited for the questioning look he knew was coming. "Me. Without a doubt, me."

She laughed more broadly.

"Your smile has been the source of much joy since I met you."

In contrast to her surprise, she closed her mouth firmly. Shaking her head, she commented, "What is it with you quiet brilliant types, who just say such startling things like that out of the blue?"

Tony shrugged. "Perhaps to us, it's not startling; it's a simple statement of fact. Very logical to us quiet brilliant types." He gave an over-dramatic worldly sigh when he breathed the word "brilliant". When she smiled again, he added, "I get the feeling you haven't smiled much lately. How's work?"

"Work's good," she answered. When Tony didn't respond, letting the silence lengthen, she continued, "Work's been… tough. Lots of politics, more than I'm used to. And it makes me feel… off-guard, like I'm a step behind what's going on."

"You're used to being able to categorize things."

"It's part of my job, yeah. I look at so many things in black and white. Case. Evidence. Investigation. Solution. But throw in people and it just fucks things up."

Now it was Tony's turn to smile. "Yes, the unpredictable natures of people have a tendency to do that to a situation."

"You know, I'm adult enough to know I can't control everything; that sometimes things are out of my control. But I like to know why things happen, even if I can't do anything about it. Politics, jockeying for position and favour, I just don't get it."

"So continue doing things that are in your control. Draw confidence in your strengths and let others do what it is they're going to do anyway." He took another sip of his tea. "What else is bothering you?"

She absently tapped the side of her cup and looked everywhere but at Tony. "Ahhh…"

"Yes?"

She pursed her lips and plowed ahead. "Remember what you said to me about Grissom, when I drove you to the airport?"

"From the information you gave me and the short time I spent in his company- " he looked up at the ceiling, as if reading notes. "Sense of abandonment, emotional fear of attachment. Funnels emotional energy into work rather than through relationships, if I recall correctly." She nodded. "And that's changed?"

"No. God, no." She ran a hand through her hair. "But… say you heard someone reveal something deeply personal that involved you, but you weren't supposed to know?"

"You overheard something meant to be in confidence?"

"No, not really. I just… he didn't know I was there."

"An admission of feelings? Feelings towards you?"

"Yes."

"Good or bad?"

"Good." She thought about it again. "Great, in fact. But… I'm not supposed to know. He would die if he knew I knew. So we're in the exact same position we were before I overheard."

"Except now you know."

"But how does that help me? How do I help him?"

He looked into his cup. "Sara… perhaps this is another example of things out of your control. Another example of you letting people do what they're going to do anyway. Give him time. Now you know. Chances are, he'll come to you when he's ready."

"Is that how things are going with you and Carol?"

He gave a short cough of surprise. "Which one of us is the psychologist again?"

Her raised eyebrow and small smirk didn't help. The chime of the doorbell echoed from the hallway.

"Saved by the bell?" Sara quipped.

Standing up, he looked as if he was about to say something, but instead, shook his head in mock defeat and went to answer the door.

*