I do not own any characters associated with the TV show Numb3rs. This story is for entertainment purposes only.

February 2002, CalSci

"Well, Professor Eppes, you can officially consider me impressed. That was quite a class."

Charlie turned to see a woman in a black pantsuit walking toward him. He hadn't noticed anyone still in the room after his class, and she definitely didn't look like one of his students.

"Um, thank you. Do I know you?"

"We spoke on the phone. I'm Isabel Cruz; it's a pleasure to meet you." She extended her hand and he shook it.

"Right! I'm sorry, you're with the agency."

"Yes, some days I'm sorry too." She smiled broadly at him.

"Oh! No, I didn't mean it like that! I meant I'm sorry I didn't realize who…" She cut him off before he could stick his foot any farther in his mouth.

"It's okay. I know what you meant to say. I was just joking, sort of."

"Right." This was not off to the kind of start he liked. "Well, we can go back to my work space to discuss your project if you want."

"Of course. Lead the way, professor. Or do you prefer to be called doctor?"

"Actually, you can just call me Charlie."

"Okay, Charlie." The way that she said his name with her slight accent made it sound unlike any way he'd heard his name before, but he liked it.

Charlie had done a few consulting jobs for different government agencies before, but in the first five minutes of meeting Agent Cruz, he knew she was unlike any government employee he'd ever met—his brother included. If he had met her on the street he would have never guessed she had such a serious job. In the hour they'd already been in his office, if you could call it that, they'd barely even talked about her project. She seemed to be far more interested in learning about Charlie and his work than she was in her own. He couldn't decide if she was interviewing him, or if she was just genuinely interested.

"So do you live around here?"

"My family's house is a couple of miles away."

"That's good. The traffic is terrible around here."

"Oh, I don't drive here anyway. I use my bike." It was one of the only times Charlie remembered feeling completely self-conscious saying that.

"Really? That's great exercise!"

"Yeah." He hoped he said that enthusiastically enough that she would actually think that's why he did it.

"And your brother works for the FBI, yes?"

"Yeah, he actually heads up the Albuquerque office now."

"Impressive."

"He's doing really well for himself, but I don't get to see him that much."

"You don't want to ride your bike all that way to go visit?" She grinned at him and Charlie could tell he clearly wasn't going to get anything by her. It was time to change the subject.

"So, you didn't say much about this work on the phone. What exactly does this project entail that you need my help?"

Isabel smiled, looking intently at Charlie. He was wondering if he'd offended her by wanting to get to work, but he desperately wanted to get to a conversation where he wouldn't feel like such a moron.

"The project." She pulled a few file folders from the briefcase she carried with her. "This isn't everything, mind you, but it should give you an idea what we're looking for."

Charlie scanned over the material she put in front of him as she explained what she needed him to do. "We need to take a lot of data of this nature," and she pointed to the file folder Charlie was currently going over, "and hopefully find a way to make it lead us to a source. Just so you know, I have about four file boxes full of that."

"You have four boxes full of these?" Charlie held up one of the papers from the folder.

"Yes."

Charlie raised his eyebrows as he continued scanning the pages. "This is a pretty big job, then."

"Yes."

"Well, that could be good. More data gives better results, but sometimes more data is just that…more data."

"Yes."

When Isabel hadn't spoken again in several minutes, Charlie looked up. It appeared she'd just been watching him go over the files, which made him a little uncomfortable. For someone who stood in front of an entire classroom of students every day, he didn't like being watched. Especially when he had the distinct feeling it was more like being studied.

"You know, it would help if I knew exactly what kind of data I'm looking at."

"It would help or it is necessary?" Charlie stared at her with a slightly puzzled expression. Didn't she know it was necessary?

"Because if it's necessary then I can tell you, but then I would have to kill you when you're finished."

She said it so calmly and evenly that Charlie had no idea if she was being serious or not. He swallowed hard, not taking his eyes off her. Suddenly, she smiled and laughed a little.

"I'm joking with you. It's a joke."

"Right, of course." He laughed nervously as he wondered why he was such an idiot with this woman.

"Seriously though, do you really need to know what it is?"

"It's going to be hard to turn it into anything if I don't know what I'm working with."

"It's all quantified into numbers though. This is what you do; you work with numbers."

"Yes, but numbers in context. These numbers are all out of context. If you're going to leave me with four boxes full of data, then I'm not sure how much I can do for you."

She smiled and laughed again. "Oh, well if that's what you're worried about is me just dropping all of this on you and taking off, don't be. I'm not leaving this information. I am staying and working on it with you."

"You're going to run through all of this data with me?" Charlie was unable to hide his surprise. No one had ever actually wanted to work with him on a consulting case. They always just wanted him to work for them. "Do you know how long this could take?"

"Yes, I am and yes, I do. Unless you prefer to work alone, and then maybe we do have a problem."

"No, there's no problem." There was definitely no problem.