Disclaimer: The Sentinel belongs to UPN/Paramount and Pet Fly Productions. No copyright infringement is intended and no money has changed hands.
Author's note: Here's the next installment. It's not as funny as the last one, but then, they can't all be. For those who asked, I was not channeling Darkwing Duck in "Official Beginnings." I didn't mean to make it sound like that. I guess I have some work to do on that kind of big speech thing.
Beginning To Get Angry
Sunday, April 20, 2014...
Steven Ellison sat in his father's house, in his father's leather arm chair, drinking his father's whiskey and wondered what he could have done differently. His brother had willed all his estate to a man he had called the "brother of his heart." Nothing had come to his real brother, his father's other son, not even some little pitance. He wondered as he stared at the amber liquid what he could have done to make his brother love him instead of Blair Sandburg.
He sighed and watched the flames flickering in the fireplace. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps their father had dammaged their relationship so badly that he hadn't stood achance against the unconventional and energetic anthropologist, but perhaps he could at least manage his brother's funds better than Sandburg seemed to be doing. A summer camp for certain kids all over the world, with nothing mentioned as to how these kids would be chosen, who would administer it, or any other of the logistical consciderations that swam through his mind, didn't seem like something Jim Ellison would have supported.
So in the grip of his own grief and his father's liquor, he called his lawyer. He would contest the will. He'd get control of Jim's estate. If the camp was what his brother wanted, then so be it, but he would get it some better management, some more solid foundations. He'd do right by his brother in memory of what he hadn't been able to achieve with him when he was alive.
Tuesday, April 22, 2014...
Blair stared at the letter, unbelieving. How could Steven do this? He'd never suspected that Jim's own brother would go against his wishes. He was sitting at his desk in the bullpen and had been about to start the paperwork on the Mathis case, when he noticed the letter in his In box. It was notification from Steven's lawyer of their intention to contest Jim's will. The reason stated was a belief that Jim would have wanted his executor to do something different with the estate.
Blair opened his mind and focused on the envelope, hoping to catch something of Steven's emotional state from his handling of the papers, but all he caught was that of the lawyer, who was confused at his client's request, not understanding any better than Blair. Steven had never handled the envelope or the letter. He'd probably phoned in the request.
Groaning, Blair sat back in his chair, taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. What was it about this project that the world at large kept trying to sabotage it? First it was Chief Snyder, and now Jim's own brother! What was it going to take to get over this hurdle? How many more would lie in their way? He began to despair, thinking that there was no way he was going to get this thing on its way by the last week of June. There was still so much to be done!
With his mind still open from having tried to trace Steven on the letter, he was starting to pick up the various emotions of the people around him. Rhonda's frustration with the new software that had just become standard to the department, Rafe's intense concentration on trying to find the pattern of a string of robberies, Brown's grating enthusiasm about his latest girlfriend, and the emotions of every person with in a thirty-foot global radius suddenly hit him with the force of a certain remembered garbage truck. The input started to spin out of his control.
Instantly, he was surrounded by solid warmth and a psychic presence that was unmistakable. Jim's voice whispered in his mind, "Dial it down, Chief. Take it easy. I'm here." With the ease of long practice, the departed Sentinel calmed the thoughts of his living Guide, supporting him while he regained control of the inflow of emotions coming from the people around him.
It only took a few minutes for Blair to get his dial back in place. He leaned back in his chair, the pain of his new headache still fairly intense. "Man. That hasn't happened for a long time."
Jim rubbed his Guide's back, still invisible to the rest of the bullpen. "What set it off?"
Blair sighed and picked up the letter, careful not to open himself to the emotional impressions within it. "Steven's contesting your will, or rather my executorship of your will. I tried to pick up his emotions from the page, but he didn't handle it. His lawyer's just as confused about this as I am, but he'll go along with his client's wishes."
Jim stared at the letter. Why would his brother be contesting Blair's executorship? "I'll have a talk with him. I have no idea why he would be pulling this stunt. Don't worry about it. You just keep looking for a site for the camp. Have you asked Megan to help you look?"
Blair nodded. "Yeah. We're going out next week to look at some of the sites. It has to be in neutral territory, preferably in the wilderness, and there has to be enough room for housing, facilities, and a kitchen and meeting hall. It's not easy to find spots like that that haven't already been claimed. It also has to be close enough to Cascade that Snyder won't have an excuse to pull it off the budget."
"Don't worry. You'll find a place."
A new voice was suddenly added to the mix. "Sandburg! My office." Blair looked around to see Simon standing close, close enough that he would have heard his detective talking and noticed the cloth of the back of his shirt moving, a sure sign that the city's ghost was with his Guide. He wanted to know what was going on.
Once inside the office, Simon sat down behind his desk and Blair took the chai right in front of it. The captain was blunt. "What's going on, you two?"
Jim chuckled and faded into visibility wearing a light blue collared shirt and tan dockers. "Somehow I knew this ghost thing wouldn't throw you off for too long, sir."
Simon threw the Sentinel an irritated look. "I'm not hearing any explanations, gentlemen."
Blair shook his head at their antics. The friendly banter was a game they had played often when Jim had still lived, and its resupmtion would normally be cause for him to celabrate, but they had work to do. "Steven's contesting my executorship of Jim's estate. I tried to trace him through the letter his lawyer sent me, but he never touched it. I pushed it too hard and I spiked."
Simon's brow wrinkled in confusion. "Jim, you and he never really got that close, even after that mess at the race track. Why would he even care what happened to your money? It's not like he needs it."
Jim nodded. "I know. His leadership of Ellison Enterprises has made all the difference in the world to that company, and they're completely on top of their game. He's in no way strapped for cash. So that's probably not the reason."
"What about jealousy?" The ghost looked at him. "Sandburg has been more of a brother to you in the last twenty years than Steven was in the last thirty-five. Could be he resents that."
Blair stared at his hands. The statement had the ring of truth to it. Had he stifled Jim's realtionship with his brother? Was he the reason that Steven had never been around? Preasure under his chin forced him to look at Jim. "Don't you go guilt tripping on me, Blair. Steven's actions are none of your fault, no matter if he tries to imply it or not. I'll just have to have a talk with him, convince him to drop this."
Blair smiled. "Thanks, Jim."
Simon nodded. "All right. Now, some of us still have work to do around here. Sandburg, I need the Cross file by five. I know all you have to do is get the signatures on it, so put on some speed." He switched gears. "Are you still on for poker night at Joel's?"
Blair grinned and nodded. "Of course! Like I'd miss a chance to clean you out."
Simon grimaced. "One of these days, I'm going to beat you, Sandburg! You just watch!" At Blair's skeptical look, he growled, "Go on, get your butt out of my office. Five o'clock, detective. Any later and I come head hunting!"
As he left, Blair just grinned wider. Jim shook his head at his Guide. "One of these day's he'll actually make good on his threats, and then where will you be?"
He chuckled. "Unemployed?"
Steven stared out the window to the 24th floor office he almost lived in, watching the traffic patterns blindly, trying to loose himself in them. He wondered if it had been a mistake to get that ball rolling to contest the exectutorship of his brother's will. He'd been so drunk that night...
In the next instant, he was startled to hear a low feline growling behind him. He spun around and saw a huge black jaguar standing on his desk. It sat down on its haunches and began to morph into the form of his brother, piercing blue eyes staring into his own. The ghost sat with his legs hanging off the desk and his arms bracing to hold his torso up as he leaned forward. "Damn it, Jim! Are you trying to get my to join you by giving me a heart attack?"
"Sorry to scare you. I think we need to talk, Steve." The look on his face brooked no argument. "What's this about you contesting the will?"
"How'd you find out about that?"
"Blair told me, and that's beside the point. What's going on, little brother?"
"Oh, so now that you're dead, I'm your little brother again. Damn you! Why the hell didn't you want that while you were still here, huh? Why did you shut me out of your life?"
Jim sighed. So that was it. "You never acted like you wanted that. After Blair's dissertation hit the fan, you never even called once to see if I was all right. You never did anything after that point to make me think you wanted to be a part of my life. What should I have done, huh? I'm not the mind reader in this partnership, and even Blair has to be within 30 feet! How the hell could I have known?"
Steven shut his mouth and turned back to face the window again. Jim sighed. "I can't let you sabotage the camp, Steven. You remember what I said at the funeral, that there are more Sentinels coming? That's what the camp is about, getting them trained and paired with their Guides so they don't have to go through what I did, and so they won't turn into another Alex Barnes. If you take this to court, I'll show up in the court room and tell the judge what my wishes are. There will be no question, no ambiguity that your lawyer can use against Blair."
Steven still didn't look at his brother's spirit. Jim lowered his head. Time to pull a Sandburg, he decided. "You know, I've learned a lot since my death about Sentinels in general. Back when people still knew about them, in primitive times, the Guide would usually be adopted by the Sentinel's family, acknowledging that they were brothers in all but blood. Some of them had these blood-brother rituals to signify the relationship. He became a part of the family. That's what should have happened with us, but you and Dad could never see past his apperance, his hippie looks, his long hair, the earings, the constant spewing of useless knowledge. You couldn't see what a kind and caring man he is, how strong a person he's always been. I think that hurt all of us."
Steven looked at his hands. "Maybe. I'll drop it. I don't guess I have much choice, do I." He sighed. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'll be honest, I was drunk when I called the lawyer. I just wish..."
Jim put a hand on Steven's shoulder. "I know. Me, too." They stood like that for a few minutes, both looking out the window on to the city, the dead seeing much farther than the living. Then Jim turned his brother around to face him. "I can't change what happened in my life. It's already gone. But I wouldn't mind seeing you more often. We've both made plenty of mistakes in the past, but I can forgive yours if you can forgive mine."
Steven nodded, and the brothers embraced. It was going to be all right.
Blair listened to his Sentinel, relieved that Steven had come around. "Hey, Jim, do you think Steven might need some help with the drinking thing, or was it a once off?"
Jim shook his head. "I don't think it's a problem, Blair, but when he comes next week to visit, I'd be grateful if you could check for me. I want to be sure."
Blair nodded. "No problem." He looked at his watch. "Simon should be here any minute. You want to help me set the table up for the game?" Jim grinned. He was glad to do the little chores that had always meant normality in his life, thankful that he had been able to figure out how to move matterial objects again.
Blair jumped a bit at the knock on the door. He wasn't expecting anyone, especially this close to midnight. He got up off the couch and checked the peephole, knowing Jim would rip him a new one if he didn't take the precaution. It was Steven!
He opened the door, Steven Ellison looking incredibly sheepish standing there in the hall way. "Can I come in?"
Curious and concerned, Blair moved aside. "Sure, man." Steven cam inside and walked into the living room, sitting down in the arm chair with a heavy sigh. Blair could smell the alchohol as if it were oozing from his pores. He sat on the couch, turning to face the tense business man. "What can I do for you?" Remebering his promise to Jim, he lightly scanned Steven, looking for signs of addiction.
As he found it in spades, Steven spoke up. "I think I need help."
"You're drinking." He made it a statement, unarguable.
Steven stared at him. "How could you...? Oh. I probably smell pretty rank, huh." He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands in front of him, something Blair decided must be an Ellison trait. "I've been drinking since Dad died. It got worse when Jim died, and I guess I've been feeling sorry for myself. I should never have made that call to the lawyer. That was the stupidest thing I've done in a long time. Can you forgive me enough to help me find help?"
"Of course! I'd never turn you down for help. You're Jim's family. That makes you mine, too."
Steve smiled through bleary eyes. "That's what Jim said, that the Guide was supposed to become a part of the Sentinel's family. I wish we'd let you in earlier, but the door's open now if you feel like you want to come in."
Blair's smile was incandescent. "I'd like that."
The End
Yay! I got another one done! Shaman's Beginning is taking longer than I thought it would, since it involves so much detail. I have to pull all the characters, the physical evidence, and the mystical part together, and I find myself without a road map on this one. I'm not quite sure where I want it to go. Anyway, feedback is welcome as always!