Disclaimer: I do not own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and am making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s).
Note: This story was originally written in the around 2005, so technology is not at a 2017 level. Please pardon that fact.
Thank you to anyone who has read and enjoyed these Sentinel stories. Thank you doubly if you left feedback.
UNLUCKY LATTE
by EvergreenDreamweaver
"Chief, can't you hold out until we get home, and have some coffee there? You won't die without a latte—"
"I will. I'll die without a latte." Blair Sandburg, newest detective in Cascade's Major Crimes division, impishly fluttered his eyelashes at his partner and tried to look imploringly pathetic at the same time. "I'm not asking Starbucks here, Jim…just stop at the convenience store. I'll make do!"
Sighing yet chuckling too, Jim Ellison flipped on the truck's turn signal and moved over a lane, spotting a mini-mart on the next block. On their way home from a tedious day doing nothing but paperwork at the precinct, the two of them deserved a treat….Well, didn't they? Jim justified his action by telling himself that he didn't make a habit of spoiling his roommate…well, maybe he did. A little. Sometimes. Well hell, spoiling him was fun, after all! And he had to admit that fancy coffee sounded kind of good.
"All right – but you owe me for this, Junior!"
"You want one?" Blair moved to open the pickup's door as his roommate shut off the engine. "My treat—"
"Your treat?" Ellison raised a skeptical eyebrow. "In that case, you bet; make it a double…with chocolate sprinkles!"
"Jim, you are so bad…." Sandburg hit the pavement lightly and was about to slam the door when Jim opened his.
"I think I'll come in with you," Ellison said.
"Jim, I'm getting coffee…not cookies, not muffins, not doughnuts. JUST coffee!"
"I know that, Sandburg. I just decided to come in with you – got some objection or other to that?" Jim challenged.
"Nope. Not a one." Grinning, Blair walked towards the entrance…and the next moment was nearly bowled over as a man came running out of the convenience store. "Hey! Watch it!" he gasped, staggering backwards.
"Watch it yourself!" the man snarled, and dashed down the street.
Shrugging and shaking his head at the rudeness of some people, Blair turned once more to enter the store, and again was nearly knocked down as a second man erupted through the door, shouting at the top of his lungs:
"Stop! Stop him! I've been robbed!"
Ellison rolled his eyes…It could only happen to us!…and immediately shifted into 'cop' mode. "We're police officers – that man that just came out? He robbed you?"
"Yes, yes!"
"C'mon, Chief—" Without another word, Jim started after the fleeing robber, with Blair close at his heels. "Call 911 and report it, and tell 'em there's officers in foot pursuit," Ellison threw over his shoulder at the store employee, who hastened back inside to obey.
Blair couldn't help grinning just a little – gone were the days of 'Call for backup and stay in the truck!' Not that he'd stayed, all that often.
The two detectives tore after their quarry, who could still be seen about a block away, running hard. Blair, better at sprinting than Jim, moved into the lead, although he was aware that if the chase lengthened, Jim's staying power would put him ahead. Hopefully, it wouldn't last that long!
The suspect glanced back over his shoulder, realized that he was being pursued by two determined-looking men, and attempted to speed up. The sidewalks were nearly deserted at this early-evening hour, and he could make good time. Sandburg and Ellison increased their pace as well, with Blair still maintaining a slight lead. Slowly, they closed the gap, until even Blair could hear the man's harsh pants for breath. It had been clearly audible to Jim's Sentinel hearing, of course, since the beginning of the pursuit.
"Cascade Police! Stop!" Jim bellowed now, hoping against hope that the robber would make it easy on all three of them and obey. Of course he won't…they never do! his mental voice chided him, and Sandburg shot a swift glance over his shoulder and winked. Blair knew as well as Jim did, that yelling that at fleeing suspects rarely worked…but it was a sure way to cover their tails by identifying themselves, and announcing police presence!
Sandburg was beginning to flag just slightly now, and Jim drew nearly even with his Guide. "Okay?" the older man inquired? "Want me to take point?"
"Nah – I'm good for a few more yards….Uh-oh, he's turning off!" Sandburg pointed to where the robber had skidded around a corner into an alleyway. Blair caught his breath and hurtled forward once again, with Jim right behind him.
It wasn't a dead-end alley; it cut through to another, busier, street, and if the suspect gained that other street, he was going to have an advantage. They needed to catch him before he got there.
"STOP!" Blair tried the command one more time, even though he knew deep down that it was futile, and made a concentrated effort to run just a little faster.
Surprisingly, their quarry did stop – just for an instant. He paused, whirled around to face them, and moved his hand in a sharp gesture…and then was running again, towards the end of the alleyway.
Jim heard it and saw it at the same time; the nearly-inaudible swish of an object hurtling through the air, accompanied by a shining, flickering movement. "Look out!" he shouted, just as another sound impinged on his hearing – a particularly unpleasant sort of squishy thunk! Blair stumbled, regained his balance, and staggered to a halt, staring down incredulously at the six-inch stiletto switchblade which was now buried in his left thigh.
"SANDBURG!" Ellison covered the distance between them in a single leap, his hands already reaching to support his Guide. But Blair, huddled over, automatically clutching at his bleeding leg, shook his head violently.
"No, Jim! Go on, go after him, man! Don't lose him! I'll be all right – just go! HURRY!" He shoved at Jim with his shoulder. "GO!"
And Jim, with one anguished look at his partner and best friend, obediently turned and sprinted after the fleeing man – a desire for retribution and vengeance filling his soul.
Behind him, alone on the street, Blair sank to the asphalt. He let go of his leg with one hand and wrestled his cell phone from his jacket pocket.
"Dispatch – this is Detective Blair Sandburg. Need backup, alley between Madison and Jackson, at 17th. Detective Ellison is in foot pursuit of robbery suspect." He waited for confirmation, then added softly, "Oh, and…Katie? Maybe you could…send an ambulance, too? Officer…down." He disconnected, and continued to sit very still, concentrating on keeping his breathing even, and abstractedly watching the ever-growing stain on his jeans, and the way the blood dripped down to pool on the pavement beside him.
#####
You sonofabitch….Just wait until I get my hands on you….Run, sucker, you can try to run, but you can't outlast me...and you can't lose me. I can follow wherever you go…and I will! The furious thoughts pounded through Ellison's mind in time with the thud of his feet, as he raced after his quarry. Army training, police training, and the things he'd learned from the Chopec in Peru all came to his aid now, and he settled into a steady lope, one he could keep up indefinitely.
And now he used the additional edge Blair had given him. He focused his hearing on his prey's footsteps and breathing, and almost without thinking about what he was doing, piggybacked scent, even as he ran, imprinting the man's smell on his senses. His eyesight he kept at normal, watching where he set his feet and avoiding people and obstacles with ease. There was no way this man could escape, or even elude the Sentinel for long. You don't have a gun, or you would have used it – and I'll bet you don't have another knife…you bastard! Blair had better be all right, or I just may find a convenient excuse to break your neck!
Closer now – he was gaining, almost effortlessly. The robber looked around, saw his relentless, implacable pursuer nearly upon him, and emitted a breathless shriek of fright at the look on Ellison's face. He tried to increase his speed, and stumbled…and Jim leaped forward in a diving tackle that would have made any football coach beam with pride, and brought him down hard on the pavement.
"Cascade Police! You're under arrest!" Ellison grated harshly. He yanked the man's left arm up behind his back, snapped one cuff on, and repeated the movement with the other arm. Grimly, he got to his feet and hauled his captive upright, reciting Miranda rights with the ease of long practice. "All right, let's go – and we'd better find my partner okay when we get back to him…or I might actually get mad. Understand?" The 'Ellison glare' was there in full force, blue eyes flat and ice-cold; and accompanied by a voice so frigidly contemptuous – and furious – that it made one shiver to hear it.
The robber – a scrawny, thin-faced guy with lank, greasy hair and multiple tattoos on both arms – nodded jerkily, his eyes wide with fright. Knocking over a convenience store had sounded like a snap. He'd never counted on running into two police officers, especially one like this!
Ellison searched his captive for weapons. Finding none, he gripped the man's shoulder and pointed him in the direction of the convenience store. "March!" he commanded, and added a small shove for emphasis.
The would-be robber marched.
###
Halfway back, Jim looked ahead and caught his breath – coming toward them was a familiar figure, dapper in a three-piece suit. Detective Rafe raised a hand in greeting as he neared Ellison and his prisoner.
"Rafe – what…Sandburg?" Jim forced the words past a lump in his throat. If Rafe was coming to search for him….
"H is with him, Jim," the younger man said reassuringly. "And an ambulance was just pulling up when I left. Blair insisted that I come look for you – make sure everything was all right." He held out a hand. "Turn him over to me," he offered, " and get back to Blair."
Sighing with relief, Jim obeyed. "Get my cuffs back to me later," he said, and set off down the street again at a fast jog. As he neared his destination, he extended his hearing, listening for some sign of how his partner was doing. And then he frowned, and increased his speed slightly.
"…won't…go. I…mean it. H, I mean it." It was Blair's voice, sounding strained and weak.
"Let 'em put you in the ambulance, man! C'mon, Hairboy, Jim'll catch you up at the hospital! You need medical attention right now, babe." Henri Brown was evidently doing his best at cajolery. Jim could have told him that arguing down Blair was a fruitless endeavor.
"No! I'll…refuse…any treatment at all – if you try to make me leave…without knowing that…Jim is all right!" Blair again, and weaker still, but immovable as quick-drying cement.
Jim could see them now: the flashing lights of the ambulance, Blair on a gurney, with Brown hovering beside him, while two obviously disgruntled paramedics stood a little to one side, arms folded and scowls pasted on their faces as they waited for the argument to end.
Damn that bullheaded little brat! He kicked his pace into high gear, and ran the last 30 feet, silently invoking curses and repeating insults regarding stubborn Guides. Henri Brown, hearing the footsteps, looked up, and a relieved smile creased his features as he watched Jim's approach.
"Hey, Hairboy – are you sure you won't let them take you to the hospital?" he asked once more, winking at Jim over Blair's head.
"How…many times…do I have to…TELL you? I won't…go until…I know that…Jim's—"
"Jim's fine, and you're going to the hospital." Ellison dropped down next to the gurney, placed a reassuring hand on his Guide's shoulder, and surveyed him with considerable concern. Blair was paper-white and shaking beneath his hand; the ocean-blue eyes looked cloudy and unfocused. The stiletto was still imbedded in his leg, although bandages had been wrapped around and about it; Jim could see blood already seeping through the gauze wrappings. He flinched slightly at both the unsettling sight, and the metallic reek of the blood. "How're you doing, Chief?"
"Jim! Oh thank God…" The eyes drifted shut, but Sandburg's fingers clutched spasmodically at his Sentinel's arm. "I was afraid – you were alone—"
"Shhh. Shhh. It's all right, it's all right. I'm all right. Take it easy."
"Where's – you didn't lose…?" Blair opened his eyes again, and raised his head slightly, apparently searching for the missing felon.
"Not a chance, buddy; I caught him. I turned the bastard over to Rafe to bring in. Now you just hush and relax, and let's get you to the hospital, okay?" Ellison signaled to the paramedics with a lift of his brows and a nod, and they came forward to begin moving Blair towards the waiting ambulance. Jim turned towards Brown. "H? Thanks," he said simply. "I'm glad it was you and Rafe that showed up."
"Me too, Jim. You're going in the ambulance with Blair, right? One of us can bring your truck to the hospital," he suggested. "It's still at the mini-mart, right?"
"Yeah – thanks, I'd like to go with him," Ellison replied, and patted his pocket absently for his keys, while watching the medics maneuver Blair into the ambulance. He turned his head briefly and glanced past H's head. "Here comes your partner and our perp," he commented, grinning as he produced the desired item.
Brown took the keys. "Go on, Jim, get going. There's a patrol unit coming that's going to take him down to the station. Rafe and I'll handle it. You just take care of Blair."
#####
"How's Sandburg?"
Ellison, who had tagged Captain Banks from the moment he stepped off the elevator, raised weary blue eyes from the magazine he had been absently leafing through, and smiled a little at the new arrival. "Hey, Simon. You didn't need to come – but thanks, I appreciate it. They said he'll be okay – but it's taking awhile to get him put back together. They gave him some fairly heavy-duty painkillers, so he's pretty dopey right now. But the doctor says he can go home after a little while."
"Hell of a thing to happen," Simon Banks grunted as he lowered himself into a nearby chair. "You two just happened to stop at the only AM/PM Mini-mart in Cascade that was in the middle of a robbery. Hell of a note, Jim!"
The Sentinel shrugged. "What can I say? It's a gift."
Simon just grunted again, derisively. "Medical leave?" he asked, at last. "How much time is Sandburg gonna need?"
"Just a couple of days," Jim assured him, "but he'll be on crutches for awhile."
Simon sighed softly. Blair on crutches meant desk duty for the Ellison-Sandburg team, which made them both insufferably crabby. Oh well, it could have been so much worse….
"Simon?"
"Hmm?" Realizing that he'd been silent for a long time, lost in thought, Banks glanced at the detective seated next to him.
"I'm going in to sit with Blair now." Jim indicated the nurse standing nearby. "They're done stitching him up."
"In that case, I'll head home." Simon rose to his feet, and Jim did the same. "You've got your keys? And you're okay to get him home alone?"
"I'm good." Ellison nodded affirmation.
"You're taking tomorrow off." It was an order, not a question.
"Yes sir." Jim's brilliant smile flashed briefly. "But I'll drop by to do the report – once Blair's clearheaded enough to help me write it."
"Good enough – goodnight, Jim." The two men parted, one heading for the exit, the other following the waiting nurse.
###
"Hey there, Chief." Jim slid into the chair beside the bed, and reached for his partner's hand, interlacing their fingers and squeezing gently. "How're you doing?"
"Okay…." Blair blinked hazily, evidently having some trouble focusing. "Kinda dizzy – I don't know what they shot me up with, but it's real nice stuff, man….We should keep some on hand…."
Ellison chuckled. "I don't think they'll let us take any home," he said, "But enjoy it while you can." He noted that besides the IV of pain meds and antibiotics, Blair was still receiving some blood to replace what he'd lost.
"Jim?"
"Hmmm?" The Sentinel used his free hand to smooth back an errant curl from Sandburg's still-too-white face.
"I'm sorry I insisted we stop for coffee…."
"I'm not," Jim said firmly. "Don't get me wrong, I'm damned sorry you got hurt!" He tightened his grip on Blair's fingers momentarily. "But if we hadn't stopped there, that robbery would have gone down without a hitch and we'd – the police, not us personally – probably never have caught the guy!"
"I guess so…I guess you're right…." Blair still sounded a bit uncertain. "I figured you'd be mad at me because it was my fault we stopped—"
Jim was taken aback. "Chief – do I really come across that harsh? Even now, after all this time? You really think I'd…."
"No, I guess not….I mean, I know you wouldn't exactly blame me…I didn't mean – I mean, sometimes I'm not sure….I don't know. I'm so fuzzy right now." Through the drug-induced fog, Blair realized that he'd hurt his roommate's feelings, and tried to make amends. "I'm sorry, Jim; it didn't come out right, I guess."
"It's okay, Chief, don't worry about it. I think you'd better just rest for awhile," Ellison said quietly, and squeezed Blair's hand again to reassure him. But he resolved to himself to watch the censoriousness he laid on his partner in the future.
"I've never been knifed before," Blair murmured drowsily, after a few moments. "Have I?" He blinked inquiringly at his partner. "Am I just not remembering?"
Jim couldn't help laughing at that. "I don't think you've been knifed before," he agreed, "at least not while I've known you. Whether or not you were before then, Chief, I can't say for sure!"
"Then I haven't." Sandburg declared with the calm confidence of the slightly inebriated – or high. "It's not…Jim, it isn't any fun, ya know?"
"I'd tend to agree," Jim said. "Now, will you hush up and rest, please? They'll let me take you home when you've finished off these." He indicated the contents of the plastic bags on the IV stand.
"Okay…." Docile for once, Sandburg closed his eyes, gave a deep sigh, and appeared to fall asleep almost immediately.
Jim kept silent vigil, wondering what unlucky star held orbit over himself and his Guide.
#####
"Doing okay, Chief?" Solicitously, Jim assisted his still-slightly-dopey partner out of the hospital wheelchair and into the pickup's passenger seat, and buckled the seatbelt. "Comfortable?"
"'Comfortable' is a relative term, Jim," was the ironic response. "If I said 'yes, I'm comfortable,' that would leave you with entirely the wrong impression!" He shifted his left leg slightly, and winced. "I'm really not looking forward to when the painkillers wear off, man!"
"You've got a pretty potent prescription you can take," Jim reminded him. He made a hasty trip back to the ER entrance to leave the wheelchair, then returned to the truck and got in.
Blair resumed the conversation as if there hadn't been a break. "I hate those pills," he grumbled, "they upset my stomach."
"I know. But we can work around that, and better an upset stomach than trying to deal with the pain of that knife wound!"
"That's debatable," Sandburg groused.
"You'll agree with me when the painkillers start to wear off," Jim predicted.
Blair tilted his head to rest against the seat back, and closed his eyes. "We didn't have dinner…did we? Did you?"
"Nope." Ellison pulled out into traffic and headed in the direction of their loft apartment. "You hungry?"
"I could eat…." Despite his words, Blair sounded much too drowsy to deal with food.
Jim, monitoring him, noted that he wasn't quite asleep, but close to it. An impish smirk touched the Sentinel's lips. "Chief? Want to stop for a latte on the way home?"
The End