Have been debating a particular crossover for some time now.
I wanted to combine The Sentinel and CSI: Los Angles, but wasn't sure how to do it.
Anyway, while I'm not particularly 'pleased' with how this turned out, but it has been a while since I saw either of the series.
That, and it was a challenge to do this from an often marginalized character's point of view.

Hmm, this is supposed to be where the disclaimer goes, yes? Well, then, I am saying I do not own, nor have I met the people who hold all publishing rights to the Television shows The Sentinal and CSI: Crime Scene Investigator.

At the beginning of his shift, Captain James 'Jim' Brass walked into chaos.

There were fourteen uniformed officers trying to take nine suspects into waiting rooms. Some were obviously going straight into custody, the others were not being arrested, just put into waiting/interrogation rooms. Four of the obviously-not-police-or-support system were in handcuffs, two were exhibiting signs of being under the influence of alcohol or other illicit drugs, the other three were screaming and throwing punches at everyone. If the presence of twenty-three in the lobby wasn't enough to block the main entrance, the fact it was shift change and people were coming in, as others were signing out, meant it was almost impossible to not notice the loud crowd.

Maneuvering around the living barricade, Captain Brass kept an eye on the proceedings. It would not due to be hit by a flailing arm or become a stumbling block to anyone pushed against the wall. It was only due to the fact his attention was not solely on the seven ineffectively resisting the booking appointment mandated for all suspected perpetrators and people under arrest, that Captain Jim Brass saw the arrival of two more of-duty officers attempt to contain and drag a long-haired male who had one pierced ear was wearing a large necklace with odd symbols and dressed multi-colored rags, into an unoccupied room.

The newest person of interest was wearing two layers of clothing-the topmost layer was shredded beyond repair and would have been considered 'indecent exposure' if he hadn't had the second layer underneath-and unlike the other fighters, dodged the hands and arms trying to restrain him. He kept squirming out of the grasp of the officers and trying to escape out the very door he was brought in. Oddly, every time this guy saw a new face, he said "Hi, H, got to go" or "Can't talk at the moment, Conner, bye". There were other names shouted out as the young man gestured and pointed, but H and Conner were the only two repeated enough for Jim Brass to realize the man was shouting out names, trying to get his friends' attention.

The fit-but aging LVPD Homicide Detective managed to avoid being called upon by the animated punk-haired hippie who refused to go quietly into the private room. However, his arrival was noticed by another individual who was getting ready to leave. "Captian Brass."

James Brass turned towards the man who called his name. "Robbins, how may I help you?"

Dr. Albert 'Al' Robbins ignored the pleading tone in the Captains voice. "Gil Grisson requested that we all pass the word: Keep an eye on that kid sir. No one is sure if he's a victim or perp."

Jm frowned, wondering when thirty-something became young. "Anything else?"

Robbins shrugged. "The victim-who-might-be-the-perp acts like he's on some kind of mind-warping substance. Thank God it hasn't turned violent-though he does exhibit signs of possible delusions." He turned to go, somehow ignoring the chaos still reigning at the receptionist desk. "At least, that's was the on-duty officer receiving the call said when they picked him up. Oh, and Dave Phillips will be taking over for me, today."

Jim Brass watched as the victim/perp was successfully maneuvered into an empty room, where he could not hurt himself or others. Yes, there were cameras watching the activity inside, but in the Las Vegas Police Station, the only room with guaranteed privacy was the restroom-and the door to that was kept under watch. Too many unusual circumstances and weird happenings had increased the security on even the police station and other public safety buildings.

Taking Gil Grissoms request to heart, Jim Brass took the first watch over the young man. Every twenty-or thirty minutes, the person behind the fake mirror switched out. It seemed like forever, before the young man finally stopped talking and arguing with himself- -and Al was right, because half the time the kid spoke, it was too low to be picked up by the mikes, and the other times, he was shouting or pleading with named either Lash, or Barnes, or Bracket- -but the man finally calmed down enough to notice the chairs and sit down. When the individual had managed to sit still and stopped bouncing in place for almost an hour, Jim glanced at the clock and was somewhat surprised to see his shift wasn't even half over.

"Oh boy, it's going to be a long night." Jim stretched and grabbed a cup of coffee for himself. Then, seeing the adult in the interrogation room was slumming forward in the metal chair and looking as exhausted as Brass felt, he grabbed a second mug and poured some coffee into that. He paused at the lone entrance before pushing the door open and slid across from the the other man.

"Long day?" The mugs were placed in the middle of the bare table-the only decor in the room besides the mirror behind them.

"Extremely." Weary eyes opened, and light brown eyes took in the two steaming cups of liquid. "This has got to be a new one for me." He grabbed the mug in front of him and drank deeply. "Thanks."

Jim Brass sat back in his seat and studied the individual sitting calmly in front of him. Too calmly the Homicide Captains thought. "Do you know who you are?"

The man pushed some loose strands of hair behind his ears. "Blair G. Sandburg, Major Crimes Detective of Cascade, WA."

That explains why he's so calm. "Do you know where you are?" Brass thought he heard the receptionist shout out, but he could have been imagining the loud noise. Besides, if there was an altercation occurring near the entrance, there were enough people on shift to keep the impatient person from ignoring all the procedures necessary to admit non-officers like police observers and consultants beyond the public areas.

Sandburg shrugged and looked into his almost empty mug. "No. Normally when I'm held hostage, the criminals have the decency to stay in state, if not in town. Man, Jim's got to be ballistic with me being kidnapped. Again."

Brass raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Uh huh." The nonchalant tone of this particular individual was throwing up internal warning bells. It didn't help that Sandburg had taken to mouthing something once more.

He would have continued the questioning, but for the fact the heavy duty one-and-a-quarter-inch steel door slammed into the wall, startling Jim Brass, but not Mr. Sandburg.

The long-haired individual seemed to be expecting the sudden intrusion. "Hey, Jim, watch the furniture. Simon won't be able to write a check for more damages this month." He grinned and stood up.

The six-foot two-inch blue-eyed individual spared one glance for Jim Brass before turning over to Sandburg. He took three steps forward and brushed his hands over the prisoner's face and arms. "Light concussion, chief. Could you find a real punching bag for the bad guys instead of taking the punishment upon yourself?"

Sandburg showed off his white teeth. "Where's the fun in that? Yes, it would be less painful, but it seems anticlimactic when the building breaks their hands, instead of me outsmarting them."

The sound of grinding teeth filled the room. In response, Sandburg tapped the newcomer on the shoulder and hissed "Dials".

Jim Brass opened his mouth to demand an explanation for the presence of both, before cutting off all questions. The tall man in front of him was in pain, if the facial expression was any judge. Besides, he looked familiar.

Warrick Brown and Greg Sanders poked their heads through the open doorway. "Sorry about that, Jim, he's fast."

Brass noted with some amusement that Sandburg and the other guy jumped before looking at him. "I'm Captain Jim Brass, and you are?"

"Detective James Ellison." His eyes opened to reveal sky blue orbs that seemed to cut through to the soul. "of Major Crimes, Cascade." he pointed to the shorter and younger man at his side. "What's Sandburg being charged with?" James' tone wasn't amused.

"Greg?" The newly-trained field agent approached warily. Very quickly, this James Ellison had managed to intimidate most of the younger generation on duty. Granted, if Brass himself hadn't had years of staring down criminals and politicians, he might have been trying to avoid the soul-penetrating stare as well.

It spoke well of CSI Sanders that when he spoke his voice didn't waver. "Mr. Sandburg is not being charged with anything. However, he was being disruptive and my supervisors feared he might hurt himself or others if placed in a waiting room that was currently holding other witnesses."

Ellison tilted his head to the side, while Sanders was speaking. The out-of-his-jurisdiction cop seemed satisfied, if not particularly pleased, with what he had observed. Turning back to Sandburg, he pinched the bridge of his nose. "What happened?"

Sandburg grinned and took a deep breath. Before he could began, Ellison interupted. "Five words or less, Chief."

Was that a pout?Brass wondered at the quick change in Sandburg's facial features.

"Saw a really cute girl. Talked over coffee and books. Walked her to her car. Knocked out by male friends. Confinement and smell brought flashbacks. Waited until all left vehicle. Escaped, recaptured, struggled, made commotion. Here I am."

Ellison was not amused, by the thin line his lips made. "Could you identify them?"

Sandburg shrugged. "Can, no need. Locked them up in the abandoned warehouse they took me too. Plenty of company for them."

A snort from the tallest man in the room. "Should have expected that. Rodents?"

A grin from the wanna-be hippie had Brass wishing there was another door he could quietly slip through-no way was he going to be able to squeeze around Ellison to reach the hallway, where Sanders and Warrick were watching quietly. At a discrete hand motion from Jim Brass had them turn to talk to a patrol officer to check out the neighborhood where Sandburg had been picked up. "Yep."

Ellison sighed. "I can't take you anywhere, can I?"

"Hey! I'm not the one who has a crime syndicate trying to assassinate me on multiple occasions. Besides, Simon and the rest of Major Crimes were getting tense, wondering when I would again be taken hostage."

Ellison laughed, startling everyone who was trying to eavesdrop.

Hope you readers survive the trip into the cavern of my mind-and the twisted paths needed to combine entertainment with real concerns.