Disclaimers:
All Things Sentinel doin't belong to me. Anna, her aunt, and how I think things will progress in the next ten years after the final episode are mine. Don't use without my permission.
Author's notes: This was written at about the same time as Contrary to Popular Belief. Actually it was written first. Anyway, this is the last straight Sentinel story I have written. I have a few crossovers, finished, and not so finished.
This story is finished, and will be updated about once a week. After this I'll upload some of my Mag 7 stuff.
The Choices We Make.
By: Axianna
Part 1 of 4
The kid stepping into the room looked hopelessly out of place. Her scruffy jeans and flannel shirt, with a hole along the bottom edge screamed starving student, while her long blond hair and wide eyes made her seem younger than she'd like people to think. One of the uniforms passing by the room approached her and after a whispered conversation pointed out the desk in the corner.
As she walked up, her eyes eagerly took in everything on the desk from the little scrimshaw carving sitting on top of the computer screen, to the feather fern sitting on the corner of the desk, to a cup half full of cold coffee that was holding down a pile of papers. To say it was cluttered would be a wild understatement.
The desk beside it was the complete opposite. It was almost clear except for a small, neatly stacked pile of folders in one corner and, dare she even contemplate the concept, a clean cup sitting on a coaster. Taking in the nameplate as confirmation that the messy desk was the one she was looking for, she sat down in a chair that was just off to the side and waited.
Pulling out a paper back (it being way too much of a bother to pull out a textbook) and leaning back, she hoped the man she was looking for wouldn't be in too late. After about ten minutes, her vigilance was rewarded. Sort of.
"Can I help you?"
She just about jumped out of her skin when he spoke. Quickly jamming her book into the pocket of her coat, she looked into a set of blue eyes that made her want to forget about her current boyfriend. Shaking her head a little, she took in the rest of the picture. The man was older than she'd first thought, with short hair just salted with gray and a fine network of lines around his eyes. Since he was towering over her and not looking too pleased to see her there, she really hoped they were laugh lines.
"Um, Yeah, I'm looking for Blair Sandburg?" She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice, but didn't succeed vary well.
"I'm his partner. What can I do for you?" The man still hadn't identified himself, so she stuck out a hand and asked.
"I'm Anna Minske, and you are…" She hoped he wouldn't just bite her head off or something, so she put on the big, helpless female smile, which her Aunt had taught her was the best way to get people to underestimate her, and waited.
"Jim Ellison." He ignored her hand but that was okay, because she'd stopped breathing and was staring at him like she'd seen a ghost. He got impatient and snapped out a quick "What?"
"I can't believe it." She spoke, but her hand was still held out and the shocked expression on her face didn't change.
"Believe what?" The detective was starting to wonder if he'd grown a second nose or something.
"After everything that happened and all these years, you're still partnered with him." She finally pulled her hand out of the air and breathed. "Wow! I mean who would have thought, with the whole Sentinel fiasco and the aftermath, that the PTB's would still…"
"Is there a point to all this?" The eyes that had earlier been fairly neutral were now as hard as ice and Anna flinched when the glare hit her.
"Um, sorry. I just wanted to talk to Detective Sandburg for a few minutes."
"Is he expecting you?" Det Ellison kept glaring at her. After a deep breath, she did the other thing her Aunt taught her to do in stressful situations and lied.
"Sure, I gave him a call yesterday and said I'd be stopping by." She didn't think he was buying it.
"Now tell me the truth." Nope he definitely wasn't.
"How did you know?" Her eyes lit up as she considered the thought that had been tickling through her mind ever since she had first read Det Sandburg's, then a struggling grad student, thesis.
"I've been a cop for over twenty years, it takes a better liar than you to fool me." His eyes eased up a bit and he took his seat behind the desk. But he still didn't look happy to see her.
"oh." Another wild fantasy tossed out the window. "Do you know when he'll be in?"
"He's down in forensics. Should be here in a few minutes." With that, one of the folders on his desk was opened and he started reading through the information, effectively ignoring her.
She opted to leave her book in her pocket and stared around the room. Didn't they call it a bull pen or something? There was an oriental woman with long black hair sitting across from a man who looked like he stepped off from the cover of a magazine. Other than that, there weren't that many people in the room. A few uniforms passed in and out, but that was about all there was to see.
She turned her focus back to Det Sandburg's desk and started to marvel at the amount of stuff he had piled on it. The fern had a cleared corner but that was about the only space that could be described like that. Every other surface was covered with something; the pile of papers with the coffee cup, a stack of CDs topped with discs topped with a pair of glasses. Then there were all sorts of little figurines and carvings cluttering up the top of his computer. The scrimshaw was the only one you could see when walked in.
"Rafe, Iwassa. My office. Now!" Anna jumped again when the booming voice bellowed out of the doorway leading into the captain's office. She managed not to react so noticeably when the door slammed shut and rattled on the hinges.
"You're in for it this time Rafe." Det Ellison didn't even look up from his report, just turned another page after his comment.
"Oh laugh it up now Jim, you know it's only a matter of time before you and Hairboy get dragged in there." The really cute guy, obviously Rafe, just frowned as he and his partner walked across the room.
"Hey, how long is it gonna take you guys to quit calling me Hairboy?" A new figure walked in, an old leather jacket slung over an arm. Anna was taking this whole by-play in with her eyes even wider, hoping that they'd just forget she was there. The interaction between these guys was fascinating.
"I think they might give up on it when you go bald, Chief."
"That is *so* not funny man. Besides, we all know you'll go first." The new guy walked up to the desk she was sitting next to and directed his gaze at her. Again she was hit by a pair of brilliant blue eyes. His eyes were lighter than Det Ellison's but they held an energy and excitement that tried to take her breath way. He was younger and very good looking, with long, dark, curly hair tied back. Maybe she should stop looking at the University for a boyfriend and start dating cops. Yea, right.
"Can I help you?"
She couldn't help but notice that he said it the exact same way that his partner had earlier. Gathering up her courage, Anna decided to just get it over and done with. If she was lucky, he would just kick her out of the station and not press charges for harassment of something.
"Detective Sandburg, I'm Anna Minske, from Rainier Anthropology department." She held out her hand and though Det Sandburg shook it, the second she mentioned Anthropology he let go like he'd been burned.
"How can I help you?" His voice was completely devoid of the teasing note it held when he'd first walked in and had become formally polite.
"I was wondering if I could talk to you about your dissertation." She could have heard a pin drop in the quiet that followed. She wasn't sure what she expected, but shocked silence wasn't one of them.
"Why?" It wasn't Det Sandburg, but Det Ellison who asked that. She glanced at him absently and returned her attention back to the person she came to see. She was usually pretty good at reading faces, but she couldn't see anything in Sandburg's.
"I was going through some of the old books in the Anthro Library, and sort of stumbled across Burton's writings on Sentinels. When I started doing a little digging, your name kept coming up in journals and…" She was interrupted before she got a chance to finish her train of thought.
"I got out of Anthropology a long time ago. I'm sure there are other people at the University who can help you better." He gave her a noncommittal smile and she could see the dismissal coming.
"I don't need help, I just wanted to ask you if I could…" Her courage failed her as she tried to figure out a way to ask a person who admitted to fraud if she could take said fraud and try to validate it.
"Could what?" he prompted.
"Well, I think your research had more merit than people thought. Okay, you faked your final research, but the work you did regarding people with one or two enhanced senses has been verified and I don't really care if there are full Sentinels out there or not, although if I found one that would be incredible, cause I just want to work on the effect of enhanced senses in everyday life for my Grad studies, but I wanted to talk to you about it first since a lot of the initial research is yours and…" She knew she was starting to rattle, but this was further than she'd gotten with most of her Proffs. It didn't seem to matter when he interrupted her again.
"There are no full Sentinels out there. I spent nearly fifteen years looking. As for choosing the subject for your grad studies, I'm surprised you found a professor to take you on with a subject like that."
"Well, um, that's the problem. I haven't yet." She hadn't exactly wanted to admit that to him.
"If you want to get those little letters after your name, I suggest you find an area of research with more backing." He was starting to sound like he was humoring her. She'd had enough humoring in the last month alone to last her a life time. Her frustration over the last few months was coming to a peak, but she tried to calm down. If he felt he had to explain things to her like she was a child, she'd return the favor.
"I don't care about those letters after my name. Your initial research helped a lot of people and there are still people out there who are seeing things, hearing things and don't know why. I've looked into the case studies you did. The validation for your work was there…" She was doing a pretty good job of staying calm, until he interrupted her again.
"Listen, Ms. Minske…" That was quite possibly the worst thing he could have said to her. She just exploded after that, all efforts at staying calm thrown right out the window.
"Don't you *dare* 'Ms. Minske' me. I've been 'Ms. Minske'ed by every gray haired, bespectacled, dry as bones, wouldn't know an original thought if one came up and bit them on the ass professor in the entire Anthropology department! Nobody will listen! I thought at least YOU might give me the courtesy of listening to what I was saying before dismissing me out of hand!" Grabbing her back pack off the floor, she wheeled around and fled to the elevators, jabbing at the buttons and muttering under her breath about blockhead cops, stupid Proffs and ancient elevators.
"Smooth one, Chief." Blair just ignored Jim's comment and looked at the ball of fury that was still jabbing at the down button.
"This was not what I had in mind for this morning. I mean, I haven't heard anything about that for the last four years." Putting the file that was still in his hand down on top of his cup, he pulled a lock of hair behind his ear that had managed to work its way out of the hair tie.
"Well, you might want to go talk to her before she breaks the button for the elevator." Jim smiled at the retreating form of his guide. The kid still couldn't handle someone, anyone being mad at him.
"Hey wait up a second." Sandburg got there just in time to stick his hand into closing doors. Fortunately, shift change was over so they had the elevator to themselves. He slid in and was ignored as the girl punched the ground floor button and stared up at the decreasing numbers. "Look, I'm sorry if I made you angry or something…"
"Who said I was angry. Just because I've had the lousiest three months of my life battling with a bunch of stiff-necked, old geezers who won't listen to a word out of my mouth past Sentinel, even though there is documented evidence of enhanced senses, so I go talk to the guy who screwed it all up in the first place by faking his research so now no one will even TALK about it, only to have him give me the same 'thanks, but you're nuts' line. What ever gave you the idea I was ANGRY!" By the time she was finished the doors of the elevator opened up and she stomped out of its confines
"Just wait up a sec." Sandburg had to dash after her and by the time he caught up with her, they were outside. "You caught me off guard, if you can give me a chance to explain…"
"What's there to explain? You faked your research. I knew that to begin with. It was a stupid idea to come down here to talk to you about it. I'm actually surprised you took it so well. Most people would have just pushed me out a window or something. Of course, you're a cop, you could find a better way to get rid of me, say SHOOT me or something. I just might ask you to do that anyway, cause after all, my life SUCKS!" She was talking so fast, that her words started to bleed together, but never to the point that a person couldn't understand what she was saying. By the time she'd finished her tirade, a bit of a crowd had gathered and she blushed as they all looked at her, including one, slightly shocked ex-anthropologist standing in front of her.
"And Jim says I talk fast." He smiled at her and she just waited for the ground to swallow her up. She hadn't blown up like that since she was a teenager and her Aunt wouldn't let her date a guy from the college.
"Look, I'm sorry to dump on you. I'll get out of your life and you can forget I ever showed up, Okay?" She turned around to leave, only to notice Det Sandburg had moved to stand in front of her again.
"How about we find someplace I little quieter to talk, and I'll answer what questions I can."
She was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, particularly after she'd just spent the last few minutes insulting it, so ten minutes later the two of them were seated in the secluded corner of a coffee shop. Taking a sip of her latte, Anna looked at the man sitting across from her, who insisted she call him Blair, and wondered.
"I still don't understand it. I've read all the articles you wrote, your thesis; I even managed to get a copy of your dissertation. The basis of your work was solid. Even without a full fledged Sentinel, you had enough material to finish you're Ph.D." She took another sip of coffee.
"Can we get past the whole, faking thing. It's not one of my favorite subjects." Blair squirmed in his seat a bit and Anna felt immediately contrite.
"Oh man, I'm sorry. It must be hell having it brought back up after all this time. I'm just not on the ball today. I mostly wanted to ask you about your early research."
"What do you want to know?" Blair picked up his own cup of coffee and took a sip, waiting for her question.
"Well, first off, how did you get on the subject in the first place. I mean I spent nearly a year trying to track down Burton's monograph…"
"I thought you said you stumbled on it?" His tone wasn't accusing or anything, but she still felt like two year old beside a glass of spilt milk.
"I didn't lie, I did stumble onto it. A few times actually. I had to photo copy it since they wouldn't lend it out and I couldn't afford to get my own copy and the damn thing kept slipping out of the bookcase and onto the floor…" Seeing the look in his eyes, she shut up and went back to the main subject. "Anyway, what *did* get you started?"
"Well, I'd always been fascinated by anthropology as a kid and I didn't want to do anything that had been done to death already when I started my Graduate studies, so when a friend of mine started complaining about headaches and hearing things he shouldn't be able to hear, it reminded me of something I had read when I was an undergrad." As he started talking, his eyes lit up and he started making gestures to punctuate a point. He talked about his some of his early subjects, the problems they'd encountered and some of the methods that he'd come up with to help them deal with their unique difficulties. They could have spent the entire morning talking if they hadn't been interrupted by the shrill buzz of a phone.
She knew it wasn't hers since she hadn't been able to pay her bill for the last month and she sighed away her disappointment as Blair reached into his pocket and pulled out a slim phone. Her digital phone looked like a dinosaur next to his. That wasn't hard since hers was almost eight years old.
All color drained from Blair's face as he listened to the other end and he was already out of his seat by the time he said bye.
"Listen I have to go, here's my card. Call me if you have any questions." Then he was out the door before she had a chance to get a word in edge wise. She followed him out of the cafe and her curiosity peaked when she heard the wail of Ambulances in the distance. She had to sprint to keep Blair in sight as he wove through the block of foot traffic back to the precinct.
She stood within a crowd of rubbernecks, looking at the devastation to the front of the building. She managed to push her way past some geek who'd weaseled his way in front of her and tried to spot Blair through the shattered glass of lobby. While she had good eye sight, it was not as good as her aunt's, so she blew a tendril of hair out of her eye in frustration when she couldn't spot him. Spying a different familiar face stepping under the hastily raised police tape, she called out.
"Hey, Daryl!" The recipient of her call turned around and when he spotted her, frowned. But he did walk over to where she was now ducking under the yellow plastic.
"Anna, what are you doing here?" He waved to the uniform who must have recognized him since he waved back and went back to keeping out reporters.
"I was talking with Blair when he got a call and headed back here." Following Daryl as he stepped through what used to be the glass walls of the lobby, she figured that what ever happened must be taken care of. He snagged her arm and pulled her into a corner, presumably so he could yell at her in private.
"I though I told you I'd talk to him first." Daryl wasn't impressed, but she'd been bugging him to talk to Det Sandburg for ages.
"You said that over a month ago." She shifted her pack and dared him to say anything in his defense. "And what are you doing here?"
"My Dad works here, remember?" Daryl glared at her. Since he was the only one who'd ever listened to her spouting on about enhanced senses, she didn't really want to piss him of. She swallowed the sarcastic reply on the tip of her tongue.
"Oh, yea."
"Oh, yea." Daryl took a deep breath and Anna noticed some of the tension around the young man's eyes. "He gave me a call to let me know he was okay, but I thought I'd come over and see for myself."
"Well, you're father is just fine, without you having to check up on him." They both jumped at the booming voice that came from beside them. Anna cringed when she recognized it as the guy bellowing out of the office earlier that morning.
"Hi Dad." Daryl tried to play it cool, but he was soon swept up into a big hug and Anna pretended not to notice the tears glistening in both sets of eyes.
"Like I said, I'm fine." Mr. Banks finally let go and his son's eyes narrowed as he looked over his Dad's haggard appearance.
"How close?"
For a few moment's, Mr. Banks didn't answer but when he did, it was not an easy admission. "Too close." Quickly changing the subject, he glanced at the girl beside his son. "Who's this?"
"Anna Minske." Who winced at the hard gleam in the eyes of Mr. Banks. She hadn't really noticed just how tall and intimidating he was when he walked up. She definitely noticed it now.
"The Sentinel hunter." The disapproval was more than obvious in Mr. Banks voice.
"Dad, she's not like that." Daryl moved a step closer to Anna as if protecting her from his wrath.
"Son, you know what happened last time. He was a really nice guy too, until…" Mr. Banks turned to his son and lowered his voice, but Anna could still hear most of what they were saying. She listened in, shamelessly.
"Well, it's a bit late anyway, 'cause she went and talked to Blair on her own."
"Damn." A hand reached up and Mr. Banks rubbed the bridge of his nose. "How'd he take it?"
"I don't know. I just ran into her outside." Daryl opened his mouth to say something else, but stopped when he noticed the two figures approaching them. Anna stared open mouthed at Det Ellison, who looked like he lost a fight with one, very large cat.
"It's not that bad Chief. It's just a scratch."
"Just a scratch. A scratch is what's covering the rest of you. The one on your arm is still trying to bleed through the bandage. That is not a scratch. Hey Simon, so what was it this time?" Blair switched gears so fast, it took everyone a moment to catch up, during which time, he noticed the girl in the corner, trying to hide behind Daryl. "Hey, Anna. What are you doing here, I thought I left you at the coffee shop."
Anna tried not to stare at the slowly spreading splotch of red on the pristine white bandage on the one detective's arm. She really didn't handle the sight of blood all that well.
"Um, I ran into Daryl outside, and we started talking…" She finally tore her eyes away from the bloody bandage, letting the sentence trail off. She took a few gulps of air and tried to tell her stomach that spewing coffee on a couple of cops wasn't the best idea in the world.
"Hey Daryl, why didn't you tell me you knew somebody was looking into Sentinels." Blair reached up and lightly scuffed the back of Daryl's head.
"Well, I was going to, but I was looking for the right time to bring it up, and so I talked it over with Dad, and…"
"Let me guess, he flat out forbid it."
"Well he tried to…"
Anna had let the conversation flow over her and turned away from the babble. She took in the process of everyone trying to put the main lobby back together, while trying not to pay attention to the media frenzy outside. She spied the EMT's across the room, working with a uniform who must have been caught in the flying glass. She guessed Det Ellison wasn't the only one who would look like he'd been in a cat fight.
One guy had a gloved hand clamped down on the woman's leg while another dug into a box of equipment. When the one moved his hand and the other tried to slap on a bandage, blood started spurting out of the gash and falling to the floor. The uniform promptly passed out and Anna suddenly felt like she was about to join her. Pushing back a wave of blackness and nausea, she ripped her gaze away and took a few more gulps of air.
"Are you okay?"
Anna turned around to face Det Ellison. Her face was very pale and her hands clenched the straps of her back pack so hard the knuckles were white.
"Yea, I'm fine, I just," She swallowed a few times and seemed to go even paler as she noticed that the splotch of red on his arm was even bigger. "Don't deal well with blood."
"Maybe we should let you sit down or something." He looked around, to see if he could spot a chair or something, but she waved him off.
"I'm fine." Her voice was weak and she swallowed a few more times, her lungs doing an admirable job of hyperventilating. "I think I just need a little, fresh … air."
And then she promptly fainted.