Leap of Faith
Spoilers: Yes! A potential spoiler for season five, at this point still a rumor, is found below. If you're running completely spoiler-free, stop reading now.
A/N: Various sources have reported that at some point in Season Five, Grissom is going to London with at least one other CSI. Both Warrick and Catherine have been mentioned, which begs the question—for the love of God, why? Why can't Sara go? Why, why, why? Yes, I'd like some cheese with that. Anyhoo, we at PwF decided that, at least in the world of fanfic, it's Sara accompanying the boss to London. And so the American Geeks in London Challenge was born. I'd like to thank Psyched and Maddy for their feedback, and Titaia for the geography help. This is part 1 of 3.
The elements are as follows: 1. The Geeks pay a visit to Madame Tussaud's, where we learn Sara is especially eager to have her picture taken with a specific wax figure. Which one? 2. Both Grissom and Sara must eat or drink something curious and quintessentially English. But what? 3. The Geeks take in a Shakespearean play at the Globe Theater. Which play? 4. A nod to a famous British crime fighting duo. Who? 5. The trip must be work-related. How?
Disclaimer: Please don't sue me. My life is complicated enough.
Monday, September 13, 2004
6:50 a.m.
Gil Grissom snapped his briefcase shut and turned to face the curious blonde woman, who stood with her arms crossed awaiting his reply. "I'll be back Monday. You'll be fine until then."
"Tell that to the bad guys," Catherine groused. "Sara shouldn't be taking her vacation at the same time you're out of the country on a consultation. That leaves us two CSIs short."
"Sara's attending a conference, Catherine. She needs some time off. She's earned it," Grissom responded. He gave her a pointed look. "I've arranged for Matthews from days to cover if you get into a bind."
"Where's she going, anyway?"
"She said it was out of town."
"You don't know for sure?"
"No." Though he couldn't pinpoint exactly why, his patience was beginning to wear thin. "If you need to know Sara's itinerary, why not ask Sara?"
Catherine ambled slowly to the desk, absently fingering a paperweight. "You two used to be as thick as thieves. What happened?" She didn't actually expect an answer, so she continued. "I can't believe they called you from overseas to consult on a case. I wish someone had told me when I was in school that studying bugs instead of squashing them could earn me an all-expenses paid trip to London. Who knew?"
"I have some things to do before my flight leaves this afternoon," Grissom stated as he left the office. "Goodbye, Catherine."
"Enjoy London!" she called out to his retreating form.
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If sheer willpower alone could clear the jammed street, Sara would have had no difficulty. As it was, however, the fender bender on Tropicana had succeeded in hopelessly snarling traffic and seriously jeopardizing her chances of catching her flight. Moving at a pace Sara was certain would have bored a snail, she eventually navigated her way through the bottleneck and into McCarran's long term parking lot. She glanced at her watch as she darted across the terminal; Damn! I'll have to check my bag at the gate.
She placed her bag on the conveyor belt and stepped through the security screening. A shrill beep rang. "Ma'am," the security guard beckoned. "Empty your pockets and go through again."
Sara complied, and once again the alarm sounded. She breathed a resigned sigh as the guard passed the wand over her clothing. What next? A blizzard? A flash flood? A voice came over the airport's public address system. "This is your final boarding call for flight 479, service to Phoenix. Please proceed to gate D9. All passengers should be on board at this time."
After several more stressful minutes, she finally dropped into her assigned seat and buckled the safety belt. Once she arrived at Phoenix's Sky Harbor Airport, she'd have time to grab something to eat and still easily make her connecting flight; that knowledge helped her to relax. The remainder of the short flight passed uneventfully.
Sara boarded her next aircraft and made her way down the aisle to her seat. There it is, she noted, 14K. No more problems, no more surprises.
The gentleman sitting in 14J sat hunched over, rifling through the carry-on bag at his feet. He seemed oblivious to Sara's presence. "Excuse me," she said after a moment. "I have the window." At the sound of her voice, the man looked up from his task. The look of unmasked bewilderment on Grissom's face mirrored Sara's.
"Wha—?" Words failed her. He fared no better. "Uh…" Sara pointed to the empty seat between her supervisor and the window. "14K."
Still flustered but rapidly regaining his equilibrium, Grissom stood and moved into the aisle, allowing Sara to get to her seat before settling back into his own. "I thought you had a conference."
"Yeah," she smiled wryly. "An international symposium on decomp soil analysis."
"You could teach that."
Sara shrugged. "I need the education hours, and I've always wanted to go to London. With my luck, though, I probably won't have time to do much sightseeing. I'll be too busy schmoozing with people I don't even know." She gave an involuntary shudder.
"I'm surprised you're going. You're not really a schmoozer."
"Me, too." She stuffed her carry-on under the seat in front of her. The plane began to pull away from the gate. Sara turned to Grissom again as the safety video began to play. "So what's your story?"
"My story? Oh, Scotland Yard's got some contradictory insect evidence they've asked me to take a look at. Sure you don't want the aisle for more leg room?"
"No, I like the window so I have something to lean against. It's easier to rest that way. I can never sleep on planes, so I need all the help I can get."
"Relax, Sara." He offered her a warm smile. "It's a ten hour flight. Take it easy while you can."
Sara turned to the window, absorbed in her thoughts. Relax? Who does he think he's kidding? I have no idea how to talk to him any more, and I'm stuck next to him on an overnight flight. Yeah, right, relax. Her eyes rolled on their own accord.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Dawn came and went as the 747 flew east into the sunrise. The passengers had begun stirring a short time earlier, taking turns in the lavatory to freshen up from their overnight journey. Sara settled back into her seat; she felt much better after brushing her teeth and hair and partaking of a strong cup of coffee. "Looks like a beautiful morning," Grissom informed her.
"We're not staying at the same hotel, too, are we?" she wondered aloud.
"Depends. Where are you staying?"
She scanned her itinerary. "The Carlton House. It's someplace I found on the internet."
"Then, no, we're not staying at the same one."
"How'd you sleep?"
"Pretty well. I woke up several times, and you didn't seem to be resting very well."
"I told you, I can't sleep on planes. I can rest a little, but I can't really sleep. Besides, I'm used to being awake at night," she grinned nervously and shrugged.
Grissom's practical nature gave him an idea. "We should split a cab into the city. Save some money."
"Okay."
"I'll be back in a minute," he said and vacated his seat to go to the lavatory. As he washed his face and brushed his teeth in the tiny chamber, he pondered the night's events. Sara was adorable curled up against the side of plane, her legs too long for the woefully inadequate seating space. She had slept fitfully, though, leaving him to wonder if she ever slept well, even at home.
It seemed to be an incredible coincidence that not only were they headed separately for the same destination, but they had been seated next to one another on the same flight. What were the odds?
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It was mid-afternoon by the time Sara reached her hotel. She and Grissom had stayed together through the baggage claim, currency exchange, customs, and then the long taxi ride into London. Grissom insisted she be dropped off first so that she could get a nap, a courtesy for which she was grateful.
The Carlton House was smaller than she anticipated, and not as well-maintained as she would have liked, but it appeared clean, and the neighborhood was decent, so she dropped her bags on the floor at the desk and rang the bell. "Yes?" the clerk asked.
"Hi, I'm Sara Sidle. I have a reservation."
"Yes, Ms. Sidle," he squinted at the computer screen. "But I'm afraid this reservation isn't until Thursday. Check in date's still two days away."
"There must be a mistake. Do you have a vacancy today?"
"No, we're all booked up."
"You're kidding me." She realized that the clerk probably wasn't at fault for her predicament, but her frustration was mounting fast. "What am I supposed to do? Is there another hotel nearby?"
The clerk thought for a moment. "Nearest I can think of is The Holiday."
"Where's that?"
"Go up the street six blocks, then turn left. It's about 100 yards up on the right."
Sara sighed. "Thanks." She gathered her things and plodded out onto the sidewalk, desperately wishing she'd had the sense to purchase one of those ubiquitous suitcases with wheels. Six blocks seemed an awfully long distance laden with luggage.
The Holiday was a much larger hotel than the Carlton House. It appeared considerably newer as well, and Sara instantly felt relieved. She silently prayed for a vacancy as she dragged her bags through the revolving door.
"Good morning, madam," the desk clerk greeted brightly. "Welcome to the Holiday. Do you have a reservation?"
"No," Sara admitted. "Please tell me you have a room available."
"Yes, we do. I'll just need your identification and a credit card."
Sara handed over the requested items. "Will a standard room suit your needs?"
"Yes, that's fine," Sara smiled.
"How many nights will you be staying?"
"Six."
When the computer was finished, he handed the key to her. "318. The lift's behind you. If there's anything else I can do, please don't hesitate to call. Enjoy your stay at the Holiday, Ms. Sidle."
Sara found her room and was pleased; perhaps it was for the better that the Carlton House hadn't worked. Fully clothed, she lay on the bed and was asleep within seconds.
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Grissom awoke around four o'clock feeling refreshed. He went to the window and admired the view of the courtyard. A loud thud sounded from the room to the left of his, and a magazine slid under the connecting door. Noticing it was a forensics journal, he picked it up and knocked lightly on the door.
"Yes?" A familiar voice called from the other side.
Grissom couldn't believe his ears. "Uh...Sara?" He fumbled open the lock on his side of the door.
After a few moments, a very irritable and disheveled looking Sara Sidle opened the door. For the second time in 24 hours, they stared at one another in utter bewilderment.
"I thought you were staying down the street," Grissom managed to say.
"Yeah, um, I screwed up the reservation."
As he looked past her at the disaster on the floor, she explained. "I was sleeping, and I accidentally kicked the suitcase off the bed. I guess I left it open a little. Damn thing practically exploded."
"That must be how this slid under the door," he handed the magazine back to her.
"It survives the baggage handlers at multiple airports, but the minute I touch it—bam!"
"Well, uh, again enjoy your trip," Grissom offered. "I have to go check in with Scotland Yard."
"Yeah, I guess I should get out the map and find out where I'm supposed to be going tomorrow." She shook her head and grinned with a nervous energy. "I can't believe we have adjoining rooms."
"Fate works in mysterious ways," he responded cryptically as he shut the door between them.
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The clock in the hotel lobby struck seven upon Grissom's return. To his surprise, he found Sara there, perusing the brochures for various tourism ventures.
"Finding time for some sightseeing after all?" His voice startled her.
"Oh, yeah. Get this—the conference is cancelled," she seethed. "They could have called and told me before I bothered to fly all the way over here, but noooo, they had to wait until tonight."
"When did they cancel it?"
"I don't know. Apparently they main speaker had a family emergency."
"You didn't offer your expertise?" Grissom toyed with her. "What are you going to do?"
"I called the airline to see if I could go home, but with the fee they'd charge, it's actually cheaper to just stay the week. So," she pointed to the rack of brochures, "I may as well enjoy it. How did your errand go?"
"Fine."
"Well, I won't keep you," she said gamely. "I'm sure you have things to do."
"Yeah…I'll see you around." As he started to walk away, the inner battle raging within him came to a head. "Sara?"
"Hmm?"
"If you're interested, I could use some help with this consult." He half-hoped she'd see his ulterior motive—he'd get to spend time with her under the guise of work, and, if they managed to finish early, they could see the sights of the city together. He couldn't think of a better way to reconnect with her. "I'll split the consultation fee with you."
"Uh…sure." Grissom couldn't be sure whether it was suspicion or surprise he detected in her voice. "When?"
"In the morning. I have to leave here about eight thirty."
"Okay. I'll be ready." She turned back to the brochures.
Grissom stepped onto the elevator and pushed the button requesting the third floor. Yes! I have a few days with her. Then his blood ran cold. But what will I do with the time?
TBC