Title: James Elison: Robocop

Author: vashsunglasses

Rating: M

Fandom: The Sentinel/Robocop

Disclaimer: Neither "The Sentinel" or "Robocop" belong to me and I make no money off of this homage to two very amazing works of fiction.

Summary: AU. Before Blair could meet Jim, Jim was brutally murdered in the line of duty and reborn as Robocop. Will finding his Guide help Jim reclaim his humanity?


It was shaping up to be a very bad day for Blair Sandburg. He'd started the morning off late for his class due to a malfunctioning alarm clock. By the time he got there, the traditional "15 minute" rule had been invoked and there wasn't a single student to be seen. So he'd spent the time cooling his heels and pondering how long it would take for the department chair to catch wind of what happened.

As it turned out, he hadn't had to wait long and the reaming out he received still echoed in his ears as his car stalled out half way back to his home in the warehouse district. He knew nothing about cars except for aesthetics, and his pleading looks at drivers by seemed to fall flat. No one wanted to help the curly haired man in the patchwork vest… but he really couldn't blame them. He knew exactly what kind of person he looked like, and it wasn't an upstanding citizen of the state.

After an hour of alternatively cursing and kicking his car, mother nature herself decided to give him a big middle finger. It began to rain. "Shit!" he snapped as he felt his curls plaster themselves to his head with the moisture. "Somebody hates me up there!" he yelled towards the dark grey clouds, "And whoever you are," he continued, pointing his middle fingers towards the sky, "I hate you too. Fuck you!"

The sky choose to respond with a particularly nasty (and close) thunderbolt.

It occurred to Blair that perhaps it was time to find shelter. He grabbed his keys and wallet and trudged through the rain and puddles towards a bus stop he could see in the distance. At least, he thought it was a bus stop. From his distance it looked sort of like the standard bench/overhang combination common to bus stops… "If that isn't a bus stop," he muttered, "I'm totally going to go ballistic."

After a few more minutes of walking (and getting splashed by cars) he made it to the honest to goodness bus stop and sat down gratefully under the overhang. Out of the rain at last, he had a moment of peace before he felt the muzzle of a gun press into the wet mane of his hair.

"Give me all the money in your wallet or I'll blow your brains out, you hippie freak," spoke the tense voice at his back.

Blair did so, and hoped that the twelve dollars and thirty three cents he had to his name would pacify the guy. It didn't and when he awoke from unconsciousness laying in a puddle on the sidewalk in front of the bus stop his head was aching and bleeding from where the butt of the mugger's gun had stuck him in the temple. He picked up his soggy wallet from the pavement and was suddenly very happy that he had taken the time to purchase a bus pass. With the loss of his money he would have been totally screwed without it.

It was almost an hour later when a bus finally pulled up to the stop. Since the busses ran hourly he had a dark suspicion that the last bus had pulled up while he was laying unconscious on the sidewalk… and then left him there. Nice.

Two transfers and several hours later he finally walked into the warehouse he lived in. His head was still killing him, but the blood had thankfully stopped flowing a while ago. He knew he should go to the hospital, but he couldn't afford it. A Band-Aid and some Tylenol would have to do.

Blair sat down in front of his TV with a beer and decided to spend the rest of the day vegetating to his favorite sports team. It was at that moment that the wall behind the TV exploded. Blair and the couch he sat on were flung backwards in the blast and for an instant he saw the blur of the TV as it flew past his head like a missile. Then, for a time, there was only silence, and darkness, and choking dust.

The silence was periodically broken by short bursts of automatic gun fire in machinelike precision. Ba-ba-ba-ba… Silence… Ba-ba-ba-ba… Silence… Ba-ba-ba-ba… Silence.

Blair had just begun to collect his bearings when a tall figure walked jerkily out of the settling dust towards him. When he came close enough to be recognized Blair felt his mind short circuit, "Oh holy shit, that's Robocop." he thought blankly. He had seen him on the news, but he never in a million years had expected to see him in person (never mind have him walk out of the ruins of his newly blown up wall).

Robocop stopped next to Blair and looked down at him through his visor, "Citizen, are you injured?" he said in a robotic voice.

Blair continued to blink helplessly at the cyborg who towered above him, "Uck…" he choked, then coughed out a wad of dust and saliva. "Yuck," he said, wiping his mouth with a grimace, "That's totally disgusting, I'm sorry man."

Robocop didn't move an inch, just continued staring down at him. "Do you require medical assistance?" he asked flatly.

Blair rose shakily to his feet, steadying himself on Robocop's arm, then flinching back a little at the cold surface. "I think I'll be alright," Blair replied as he surveyed the ruins of his home in steadily rising despair.

"You have a wound on your temple," Robocop said, staring at the wound that was partially hidden underneath a Harry Potter Band-Aid.

Blair's hand snapped up to cover his injury. "I'm fine," he snapped. "I don't need any medical assistance."

"I will call emergency services," Robocop replied, completely ignoring Blair's denials, "Wounds to the head can be particularly dangerous if not treated as soon as possible."

Blair crossed his arms over his chest, "I am not going anywhere! I can't afford to go to the emergency room! I'll be fine."

"Emergency services have been contacted and an ambulance will arrive at this location in an estimated four minutes, twenty three seconds. Please wait for their arrival, they will tend to your wound." Robocop said.

Blair hissed in displeasure and decided to make a break for it. After all, they couldn't charge him for anything if they couldn't catch him! He turned towards the far exit and sprinted towards it as fast as he could, dodging debris as he went. The nausea and dizziness hit him suddenly with startling speed about halfway there and he ended up sprawled on his knees on the cold cement floor, projectile vomiting and wishing he would die. As he vomited he could hear steady metallic footsteps coming up behind him and then stopping mere inches away. Metallic hands steadied him, and then pulled him to his feet once his stomach had settled, closing firmly around his upper arms. Blair vaguely mused at how strange it was that the tight hold actually made him feel safer instead of trapped. He subconsciously leaned back against the metal breastplate behind him as he spoke, "You're not going to take no for an answer, are you?" he asked softly.

"Negative," Robo replied somewhere a little above the top of his head.

He could have been imagining it, but Blair thought that, just for a second, he could hear genuine emotion in Robocop's voice. It was tantalizing, and the anthropologist in him had to know more…