Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.
For those of you who are not familiar with The Sentinel's characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy!
Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. Band of Brothers and Welcome to Cascade take place before September Song [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after The Perfect Partner [Sentinel universe]. Missing Persons happens right after Fanfare for June [Hardys]; A Matter of Public Record takes place any time between Death on the Fourth of July and February Flirtations [Hardys], and before Remodel and Rebuild [Sentinel].
The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Also, we apologize for the liberties we took with the NCAA playoffs. We really do know better, but had to have several games in one place for the story to work!
Band of Brothers
A Hardy Boys/Sentinel Crossover Story
By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers
Chapter 1
"Where the heck is Bayport, anyway?" Detective Blair Sandburg frowned down at the sheet of paper on his desk – the one with all the details about the police procedures seminar he and his partner were being sent to. "Bayport, New York...why not New York City, if we have to fly clear across the country?" he complained.
"My, my, aren't we in a foul mood?" Jim Ellison looked across their adjoining desks calmly. "Bayport's a nice little city – about 50,000 people, I think – and it's not all that far from the Big Apple, Chief. We can probably swing through Times Square before we come back to Cascade, if you want. Besides, I thought you liked the idea of getting out of town for a few days."
"I do," Sandburg admitted. "I'm just kvetching to kvetch, that's all." He reached for the information sheet again and scanned through it. "You ever been back there?"
"No, but I actually know someone who lives there," his partner said, to Blair's amazement. "Guy I was in basic training with, when I joined the Army. Funny thing is, he's a police detective too. Name's Con Riley."
"Whoa!" Blair blinked. "That's amazing, man! You gonna try and connect with him while we're back there?"
"Figured I would, yeah." Ellison grinned. "We still exchange occasional Christmas cards. At the very least he might buy us dinner – you think?"
"Ellison! Sandburg! My office!" The stentorian bark interrupted their conversation, and the two detectives jerked to attention, then got to their feet and hurried into Captain Simon Banks' office to answer the summons.
"You bellowed, sir?" Sandburg was never one for undue ceremony.
Banks eyed him sternly. "Don't start, Sandburg; I've already had to deal with the Chief of Police this morning." He waved them toward the chairs. "Sit, sit. This is unofficial."
They sat, Jim in a chair, Blair perched on the edge of a table, both wondering what was going on. The captain handed each of them a cup of coffee.
"Daryl's won tickets to the NCAA early-round playoffs next week back East," Simon said without further preamble. "He's thrilled, as you can imagine – but there's absolutely no way I can take time off to go with him, and I'm reluctant to send him off alone, even if he is 18!"
Blair, who had traveled alone all over the world, from the time he'd hit his mid-teens, couldn't help smiling a little, but held his tongue and kept a polite, interested expression on his face.
"Then I looked at where the games are being played," Banks continued, "and it's in Bayport, New York – the same town where you two are scheduled to attend that seminar, and the times overlap."
Ellison and Sandburg exchanged glances. Uh-oh, I think I know where this is going... Jim gave his partner a tiny nod and wink.
The captain waited, evidently hoping that either Jim or Blair would pick up the ball and run with it, but neither detective said anything. Banks glared at them, then sighed. "Okay, I'm asking a favor here: could Daryl travel with you, and you sort of look out for him? I don't exactly mean baby-sit him – he'd be furious – but just keep an eye on him?"
Again the glance between the partners, then Jim spoke for them both. "We'd be glad to have Daryl with us, sir. He's a great kid. But are you sure he won't mind traveling with us?"
Banks chuckled. "Are you kidding? He thinks the sun rises and sets on you both. He'll be thrilled!" He leaned back in his chair, relief spreading across his face. "I owe you two for this!"
#####
"Wow, tickets for the whole weekend!" Joe Hardy gloated, removing the glossy cardboard strips from the large envelope. "I can hardly believe it!" He held up the precious tickets, blue eyes sparkling as he looked them over. "Having NCAA basketball playoff games right here in Bayport – and us managing to get tickets – it's like, unbelievable! Even if it is just opening rounds."
"We got lucky, all right," his older brother Frank agreed. "But it's going to be crowded – and I don't just mean because of the basketball tournament! I read that there's some sort of law enforcement thing going on at the convention center, and that's right next door to the Sports Complex! Cops coming in from all over the nation, apparently...Parking's going to be a nightmare! Maybe we should take the bus to the games!" He shoved back a lock of dark hair with a rueful smile.
"Oh, swell," Joe groused. "It would have been bad enough with just the basketball games. Well, we'll just have to cope, I guess. Getting these tickets is too rare to spoil it by worrying about crowds!"
#####
"We'll meet you here at lunchtime, how's that?" Jim craned his neck to try and catch Daryl Banks' roving eye; the young man was barely paying attention to his companions as he gazed at the crowded sports arena with excited anticipation. "Out in that courtyard, okay? Okay, Daryl? One o'clock? DARYL!"
"Huh? Oh – sorry, Jim, sorry...Uh, yeah, one o'clock works. The first game's supposed to be over by 12:30, and the next one doesn't start until two." Daryl's embarrassed flush was concealed by his dark skin.
"Good enough." Ellison grinned across – he could no longer look down – at the young man. "Have a good time!"
They parted company, Daryl joining the crowd streaming into the Bayport Sports Complex and Jim and Blair heading into the Convention Center. The two detectives stopped to pick up their printed name badges and participant packets, and were moving into the main hall to find a place to sit when Jim heard his name called.
"Ellison! Jim Ellison! Is that you?"
They turned toward the sound, and saw a dark-haired man about Jim's age approaching, moving purposefully through the crowd. A smile broke onto Ellison's face.
"Con! You haven't changed much!" He stepped forward, his hand outstretched to the newcomer. "Good to see you again!" He gripped Riley's hand, then turned to Blair. "Chief, I'd like you to meet an old friend – this is Detective Con Riley of the Bayport Police. Con, my partner – and best friend – Detective Blair Sandburg."
#####
Daryl Banks walked slowly into the Sports Complex, moving along with the crowd, and let his ticket be scanned at one of the turnstiles. He checked the seat number and looked around to locate the appropriate area. He'd seen a seating chart of the arena, and knew he was sitting on the second tier. He hoped he'd have nice people to sit near.
Following the signs, he found the correct escalator and rode it to the second level. When he got off, he nearly bumped into two guys about his own age, who were hovering near one of the entrances and looking at their tickets.
"Section 215, Row B," one of them – a tall boy with dark hair – said, and Daryl pricked up his ears. That was his section and row!
"Seats nine and ten," chimed in his companion, who had blonde hair.
Daryl paused next to them, and when they looked up at him, he smiled tentatively. "Hey, guys...I'm right next to you, in number eight," he ventured, and the two boys grinned at him in friendly fashion.
"Cool!" the blonde said. "I'm Joe Hardy, and this is my brother, Frank. Let's go on in, uh...?"
"Daryl," he said happily. "Daryl Banks."
#####
When the lunch break came, Jim and Blair explained to Riley that they were meeting their boss's son, who was attending the basketball game next door, and invited the Bayport cop along to lunch with them. Accepting with pleasure, Con followed the two men from Cascade out into the soft drizzle which had been falling for an hour or so. They paused in the courtyard area, looking for any sign of Daryl.
"Jim! Blair!"
"Con?"
"Daryl! Looks like you found some friends, man!"
"Frank? What're you doing here?"
Voices spilled over each other as two groups came together – the three police officers in one, and three young men in the other. Jim recognized Daryl, of course, but the two accompanying him were strangers.
"Whoa, whoa! Time out! Let's all get on the same page, huh?" Blair held up his hands in a settling motion. "Con, you seem to know most of us, can you do the honors...?"
"Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg, this is Frank and Joe Hardy," Riley complied with the request. "Jim and Blair are police detectives, partners, from Cascade, Washington," he explained to the Bayport boys. "Frank and Joe are local boys with international connections," he teased, "their father is a private detective who used to be a cop with the NYPD, and they do a lot of sleuthing themselves." Con grinned at Daryl. "You must be Captain Banks' son; I've already heard about you!"
Frank and Joe were candidly inspecting the two police officers from the West Coast, for in all their experiences with law enforcement personnel they had never seen two less likely partners! The older one – not old, probably about the same age as Riley, late thirties, or possibly 40 – whom Con had introduced as Jim Ellison, was tall – taller even than Frank's 6'1" – and had short brown hair [and a slightly receding hairline] and the most piercing pale-blue eyes they'd ever seen. He seemed to be able to look inside them – or through them – and although he smiled politely, his gaze was assessing and cool. He wasn't exactly unfriendly...but his whole bearing was, at the very least, reserved. It fairly screamed 'cop!'
His companion, on the other hand, was the most unusual-looking police officer the Hardys had ever met. Not young, exactly – not a rookie, but younger than Ellison by a few years – Blair Sandburg was short in comparison to everyone else – perhaps 5'9" at the most. He had wavy dark hair down to his shoulders, he wore silver-wire-rimmed glasses over long-lashed, ocean-blue eyes, and possessed a sweet, engaging grin. He almost seemed to bounce in place with enthusiasm. He held out his hand to each of them in turn, and seeming to guess their thoughts, laughed: "Before you ask, no, I don't work in Vice. Well, not often, anyway, only occasionally on loan. We're in Major Crimes."
"Major Crimes...?" Frank turned to Daryl. "Isn't that where you said your father—"
"Yep!" The tall black youth grinned. "My dad's their boss!"
Sandburg cleared his throat ostentatiously. "And a lovely man he is, too. Isn't he, Jim? Be sure to tell him I said so, Daryl!"
Everyone laughed at that.
"It just worked out that Sandburg and I and Daryl all were coming to Bayport at the same time," Ellison remarked, "So we're a package deal."
He was looking as closely at Daryl's new acquaintances as the boys were at him and Sandburg. What he saw impressed him favorably: two tall, well-built guys, one with dark hair and eyes, the other a blue-eyed blonde, both with clean-cut good looks. And from what Con Riley had said, a former cop and PI's kids...pretty good recommendation, that. It seemed that Daryl had lucked out.
"I take it we're having lunch together?" Con inquired, and received several nods. They moved towards one of the food kiosks scattered around the courtyard. "There's these – and there are more in the convention center...No matter what we get, I suggest we go inside to eat it, since it's trying to rain."
"It's going to rain more; there's a storm coming in," Ellison remarked absently, gazing up at the lowering sky.
"Jim loves hot dogs," Sandburg said wickedly as they got in line. "Some of the first meals we ever ate together were hot dogs, remember, Jim?" He dodged, seemingly without even looking, Ellison's gentle smack at the back of his head. "Not the hair, man!"
###
Over lunch, Con and Jim shared reminiscences of their basic training days, the detectives 'talked shop,' to which all three boys listened avidly, and the two groups compared notes about their respective mornings. The teens were understandably much more enthusiastic about theirs, describing the game in detail. The police officers couldn't come up with much that was similarly exciting, although Blair did entertain them by rummaging through his 'guest packet' with running commentary.
"Look, there's gum...and some candy, hard candy, mints...and gee, a little first-aid kit! Do they think we're going to hurt ourselves sitting and listening to lectures? And hmmm...dental floss. How exciting. Well, I suppose we could tie something up with it. And there was a pen and a little tablet; we used those already. And – oh, cool, now this is neat! Look, Jim! It's a little tiny flashlight to go on a keychain!"
"You could hurt yourself sitting and listening to a lecture, Chief," Ellison observed dryly. "But I agree, the little flashlight might come in handy."
"You are so not funny," his partner retorted, carefully clipping the miniature flash onto his keys. "Hey, bottled water, too! Why didn't I notice this stuff during the morning session?"
"Because you were actually listening to the speaker and taking notes, with your pen and little tablet?" Joe suggested, grinning.
"Nah..." Sandburg stuck the little bottle of water in the pocket of his jacket. "Jim and I were playing Hangman." He glanced up and winked at his partner, who looked decidedly embarrassed.
"You didn't need to mention that, Chief."
"Oh, but I did." He leaned across the table to speak to the Hardys in a stage whisper: "He doesn't want people to know he goofs off at these things even worse than I do. And he can't do anything to me in front of you guys...But I'll pay for it eventually. He'll probably toss me off the balcony when we get home, or something!"
"Sandburg, I would not toss you off the balcony—"
"Maybe not, but you'll disable the elevator or something, so I'll have to walk up the stairs. WITH my luggage...! Or...I'll end up cooking dinner every night for a month—"
"Oh, good, can I come over, Blair?" Daryl interjected, between gurgles of laughter. "You cook better than Dad!"
"Or scrubbing the grout in the shower..." Blair continued in a martyred tone. Now they were all laughing, not just Daryl. Sandburg caught the Hardys' slightly bewildered looks and sought to clarify the situation. "Jim and I share an apartment," he explained. "He was kind enough to let me stay with him when mine...um...blew up."
"Blew up?" Frank repeated in consternation.
"It's a long story; trust me, you don't want to know," Ellison said dryly. He made little quote marks in the air. "'One week, and I promise, I promise, I'll be out of your hair,'" he mocked. "Riiight. That was over five years ago, and he's still in my hair."
"What hair?" Sandburg gibed.
Jim gave him a look that would have curdled milk. "Keep it up and you scrub the bathroom grout with your toothbrush," he warned.
Blair just chuckled, and this time didn't try to elude the hand that tugged affectionately on a strand of his curly hair.
Frank and Joe exchanged glances as they returned to eating their lunches. Ellison and Sandburg certainly were the most unusual cop partners they'd ever encountered, but they seemed very nice!
"Those are cool," Daryl said, craning his neck to look at Blair's treasures again. "Wish I had that little flashlight."
"Here, have mine," Jim offered. He rummaged through his own guest packet and pulled out the mini-flash, which Daryl accepted with a wide grin. "I'll hang onto the first-aid kit just in case; no telling what Sandburg might do to himself this afternoon."
Blair just rolled his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head.
###
After lunch, the two groups prepared to split up once again, the boys going back for the afternoon's game, and the police officers returning to their meetings. Con Riley groaned audibly as he checked his schedule.
"Legalities of interviewing witnesses!"
Blair looked at his. "I'm down for profiles of terrorists and psychological aspects of terrorism," he informed his partner, who nodded. "And you're...you're doing the Advanced Forensic Investigations one, aren't you?"
Jim nodded again. "We finish around five; want to meet out here afterwards?" He glanced around to include Con, Daryl and the Hardys. "What time does the game end?"
"We should be out by five, easy," Daryl answered. "Do you guys have to be home right away?" he asked Frank and Joe, who shook their heads.
"Dad's out of town on a case," Frank volunteered, "and we told Mom we'd grab something to eat here, after the game."
"Want to join us for dinner?" Ellison invited. "Con? That includes you, too."
"Sure, I'd like that," Riley accepted, and the Hardys both grinned and nodded.
"Great!" Daryl enthused. "We'll meet you out here in the courtyard right after the game, then!"
As he and Blair crossed the courtyard, Jim paused, his head tilting in a fashion that was very familiar to his partner.
"What is it?" Blair inquired, stopping too.
"I keep hearing water running," Ellison said in a fretful tone. He looked around. "There's that fountain—" He frowned unhappily at the water feature, which was nearer the Sports Complex, and Blair gently patted his arm, knowing why Jim hesitated over the words. "but that's not what I'm hearing. It sounds sort of subterranean."
"Hmmm." Sandburg looked around, frowning too. "You don't usually pick up on water running through pipes underground, do you?"
"No – could if I wanted to, but I keep it filtered out."
Anyone overhearing their conversation would have been bewildered, and with good reason, for the two police officers were referring to something very unusual. Jim Ellison wasn't just a very good detective...and Blair Sandburg wasn't merely an ex-anthropologist-turned cop. Ellison was a Sentinel – a person with all five senses genetically enhanced – and Blair Sandburg was not only his partner, roommate and best friend, but also his Guide – a man who had studied sentinels extensively, and the only person who could keep Ellison grounded while he used those enhanced senses, could often alleviate the agony of sensory spikes, and could pull Jim from the catatonic zone-outs that occasionally happened when he concentrated too closely on any one thing.
"It's not the fountain?" Blair wanted to be sure. He looked it over – it didn't look much like the fountain on Rainier University's campus that held such agonizing memories for them both. It was a circular flat surface, surrounded by a foot-high fence, with multiple jets which spurted in varying patterns and heights, accompanied by colored lighting displays...but it appeared that the water pressure must be low, for the spouting jets were sluggish and weak.
"No, I'm sure of that...although I suppose it might be the pipes leading to it." Jim was still scowling thoughtfully at their surroundings. "It's probably not anything important, just...irritating, that's all." A muted grumble of thunder made both men glance up at the dark clouds overhead. "There's a nasty storm coming," Jim added.
"You can feel the atmospheric changes?" Sandburg asked with interest. Even after over five years of studying Jim's heightened senses, he was always fascinated by their manifestations.
"Yes and no – it makes my sinuses ache!" the Sentinel said with a grimace. "But that's not unusual; happens to lots of people. It doesn't have anything to do with sentinel abilities, except that they make the pain worse...so don't get your curls in a fluff, Chief!"
"I can think of at least one sense that's undeveloped in you, and that's your sense of humor," Sandburg huffed, and stalked towards the convention center. Jim followed him, grinning broadly...but he glanced back once more at the fountain with its languid water jets, and the smile faded into a puzzled frown.
To be continued.