I don't own the Sentinel or anything else that makes money for me.

Edited 22 Feb 19

Chapter 5

Blair looked up from his place at Ellison's desk for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes, hoping the footsteps he heard were Detective Ellison returning from his crime scene. He frowned when he saw it was only some other hapless detective staggering under a pile of files. The excitement of running into a likely candidate for a Sentinel on the first day, hell, the first ten minutes of him being in the building had quickly worn off when Captain Banks explained why they couldn't have some untrained academic running around live crime scenes and possibly contaminating evidence.

"I'll be really careful!" Blair found himself promising, like some kid begging his dad to handle his prize baseball autographed by Babe Ruth.

Banks only shook his head, "Doesn't matter, you know how clever criminal defense attorneys can be? They find one little thing that could have gone wrong with evidence collection and there's the case down the drain, and it's been getting worse in the last couple of years. You can do your research just fine here in the office and then, later on if, and only if, you've proven yourself trustworthy, you might be able to go out to a few crime scenes and take a gander or observe or whatever you anthropologists do."

Blair could see nothing was going to change the police captain's decision, but he had to try anyway. Biting his lip he threw caution into the wind. "But I think Jim Ellison himself might be a latent Sentinel. How can I verify that if I can't see him in action?"

That caught Banks's attention. "Jim? Is that why you were so interested in having him as a liaison?" Banks shook his head. "Hate to tell you this, kid, Jim took those Sentinel aptitude tests before going into the academy just like everyone else, failed every one. Besides that, he's got to be one of the most insensitive men I know."

Blair choked back a sigh of exasperation only just managing not to throw his hands in the air. "Being a Sentinel does not mean you're going to be sensitive emotionally and Detective Ellison has one of the highest closure ratings in the department. He's been cop of the year for the past four years! Shouldn't that indicate something?"

"It indicates that Ellison knows how to do his job and is a good detective." Simon snapped back, his earlier sarcastic joke going unnoticed, "There have been detectives with excellent closure rates before that weren't Sentinels. It is possible, you know."

Blair shook his head. "That isn't what I meant. I just meant that it could be additional proof that there might be another reason why his closure rate is so high."

"Doesn't matter," Banks said, dismissing the fact, "I'm still not going to let you jeopardize the chain of evidence by tramping around open cases like some wild life observer on the Discovery Channel! If you think he's a Sentinel you can observe him just fine here in the office. It's not as though he could turn that sort of thing off and on like a light switch, right?"

Blair gritted his teeth and muttered a reluctant agreement. If Jim really was a Sentinel, especially a latent one, he would not be able to control when his acute senses came into play, not without a Guide. Nevertheless, Blair was still silently fuming about it an hour later as he waited for the detective to return. He wasn't sure how long inspecting crime scenes usually took, probably several hours at least. He was just being impatient, Jim wouldn't be back for a while yet. He should be using this time to observe the other members of Major Crime. If there was one, perhaps there were two Sentinels. He'd be ecstatic if there were two. It was possible. It had happened before. Blair looked around the room at the surrounding detectives willing himself to pick up anything that could indicate a Sentinel. Or he could be overestimating his luck for the first day.

Blair glanced back to the door in another attempt to will the Detective back to the bullpen. It didn't work, much like the five previous attempts. Leg bobbing up and down, Blair forced himself to focus back on the notes he had begun making. With the paper work completely done and Detective Ellison not around to talk to, Blair had begun the observational notes for his study, or at least attempted. He was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the social interactions within the department when he had a potential Sentinel under his very nose. The observations he managed to put down were general and so common they were practically useless to either aspect of his study. A quick tour of the bullpen to introduce himself proved how closed a society the police department could be. Many of the detectives were polite, some not so much, but all were just as displeased to have him there as Detective Ellison. He'd have to work to gain their trust if he was really going to learn anything.

Tapping his pen against his note book, Blair let out an exasperated sigh. On the desk Ellison's phone rang and went to voicemail. Blair stopped and stared at it. He was sitting Ellison's desk. With a quick glance around, Blair opened a few drawers, scanning the insides as quickly as possible. He wasn't really invading the detective's privacy, just taking a quick look. Still, he didn't want to explain to anyone why he was looking through their coworker's desk.

Not that it would have made any difference. The closest articles Blair found that could be considered personal were a large bottle of aspirin, a dark pair of sun glasses, and a box of ear plugs. All of which could indicate Ellison was having difficulty with unpredictable sense but could also be explained by Jim's occupation. Headaches would be no stranger to a stressful job such as police work. Many people owned sunglasses, and detectives all spent time on a firing range using ear plugs. Other than that there were no pictures, no personal items, nothing that indicated a life outside work.

Blair winced as he closed the last drawer harder than he intended to, looking around to see if anyone noticed. A few people glanced in his direction, but none commented. With nothing left to do, Blair turned to Ellison's computer. Perhaps he could find something about the strange vibes he was picking up from the detective on the internet. Opening the browser, he glanced at the clock and bit back a groan. It was barely lunch time. This was going to be a long day.

XXXXXXX

Jim dragged himself into his loft. Only ingrained habit ensured the keys landed in their basket and the door bolted behind him before he fell onto the couch. It was hardly past five in the afternoon but he was exhausted. The crime scene had taken hours to process, though the crime itself seemed straight forward enough. It was the large amount of evidence they found that took most of the time, beginning with the nine bullets buried in the walls and floor and ending with the two large bags of cocaine they found hidden in the attic. Now it was just a matter of finding the person responsible, something easier said than done in most cases.

After finishing at the crime scene Jim returned back to the precinct to look after the necessary red tape that went with opening an investigation. Sandburg was still in the Bullpen. Jim checked before he went near it, so Jim stayed away. He went to evidence, the lab, he even stopped by the morgue, his least favorite place in the building, and double checked that everything related to the case got where it was supposed to be. When he ran out of other departments to visit and Sandburg was still at his desk waiting, Jim left. He called it a day and drove home.

Finding the drugs in the attic hadn't been too much of a surprise. The area was known to have a problem with drugs and gangs. If they were lucky they would be able to trace it back to its origins and shut down some of the trafficking going through the area. The discovery also brought Vice into the mix and while Jim didn't usually like sharing his cases with anyone, in this instance he was glad. It gave him a chance to stay away from his desk and Sandburg. Vice would also take a chunk of the workload and he wouldn't have to run himself ragged and risk slipping up in front of Sandburg. Besides, he was dead tired, keeping his senses at an average level seemed to take an extra effort with the Guide around and he'd only spent a few hours in the man's company.

Jim flipped off his shoes before pulling his legs up on the couch. He wondered if it was normal for Sentinels to have trouble controlling their senses around Guides. Maybe it was a subconscious thing, knowing they had someone to bring them back if they went too far. He thought he remembered reading somewhere that the subconscious played a big role in Sentinel behaviors. One thing was certain, he was going to need to get more information. In this case, not knowing could tip his hand and get him in serious trouble. The department had strict regulations concerning Sentinels going out into the field without a Guide. The disciplinary ramifications he'd receive from the department would only be the start of his troubles if he was discovered. He had to find out more about Sentinels and especially Guides if he was going to avoid drawing attention.

The curtains were still drawn from the morning and the lights still out, throwing the room into darkness despite the early hour. A huge yawn stretched Jim's mouth. All he wanted to do was take a moment to rest, but he knew he'd be up in ten minutes from the ever constant noise of the city around him. So, Jim forced himself off the couch and pulled out a few white noise generators and placed them around the room, particularly near the windows. That done, he lowered himself back on the couch.

The digital clock showed 5:30 from its display in the DVD player. Jim frowned at the bright red glow before tossing a pillow over to cover the display. For a brief moment, he thought about Sandburg still sitting at Jim's desk waiting for him to come back. Jim felt a small twinge of guilt at the thought, but quickly brushed it aside. The kid was supposedly smart. He'd find something or someone else to occupy his time. Plus, if he got mad enough about being ditched on the first day maybe he'd ask for another liaison and Jim wouldn't have to deal with him so much. Somehow, Jim didn't think it would be that easy to get rid of his new observer. Still, he could hope.

Giving up on the whole line of thought, Jim closed his eyes and settled into a familiar breathing pattern. He'd deal with the Guide later. First, he'd get a few hours sleep then do a little research into Guides and whatever freaky powers they had. If he timed it right, he could get to the library just before it closed when no one was around except sleep deprived college students. Jim vaguely recognized the dark outline and glowing blue eyes of a large cat lounging on the coffee table before drifting to sleep.

TBC...