I still do not own the Sentinel.

Edited 25 Feb 19

Chapter 7

For the first time in a long time, the alarm woke before Jim Ellison. It shrilled to life with a certain amount of mechanical glee at finally being the first up on a week day. The sudden noise cut through the haze of numerous white noise generators and jerked Jim out of his exhausted sleep. His hand shot out in a knee-jerk reaction silencing the whining beep with a heavy smack. Lying for a moment, he dragged a hand over his face, scrubbing away the grogginess still filling his mind. Forcing himself up and out of bed, he stumbled down the stairs and to the shower.

Jim spent a large portion of the night leafing through the information he got at the library about Sentinels and Guides. In addition to that, he'd done a preliminary background check on his new Guide tag-along on the internet. Though some of it seemed a bit technical, at least for his tired brain to pull apart, none of what he learned the night before was very encouraging.

Apparently, Blair Sandburg was a relatively well known and talented Guide in the GSC. He wrote numerous papers on Sentinel Studies as well as from an Anthropological position on the topic. The man was also noted as being talented with several empathic abilities associated with Guides. Despite Sandburg's apparent abilities, he didn't have a Sentinel yet and from reading between the lines Jim determined Sandburg was looking for one. Jim didn't understand the intricacies of how the GSC assigned Sentinels to Guides. If he hazarded a guess, he'd say politics played a large role, it always did, but maybe he was being cynical. No matter what, though, the last thing Jim needed at this point was a target on his back from a Guide desperate for his own Sentinel.

The only piece of potentially good information Jim found on the man was Sandburg's relatively traditional view on Sentinels. From what he was able to gather, Sandburg focused on the protector aspect of Sentinels rather than the weaknesses that came with heightened sense. It seemed the Anthropologist-Guide emphasized the abilities and strengths that came from being a Sentinel instead of the growing tendency in the field to see the senses as a handicap to regular life. If that were true, then Jim might be able to use that to his advantage if things really fell apart.

Besides the information on Sandburg, the copies detailing Sentinel characteristics and diseases was even less encouraging. Apparently, Sentinels didn't live very long life spans. The senses brought with them innumerable sensitivities to chemicals and foreign substances. In fact, Sentinels seemed to be the only group that fared worse in modern society, with bad reactions to everything from pollution to modern pharmaceuticals. Personally, Jim learned the hard way to be careful about the medications he took.

Then, worse than the tendency of modern Sentinels to drop dead at a relatively early age, they also seemed to have a habit of going insane. The book detailed several psychological, cognitive, and behavioral problems that could be linked back to heightened senses, obsessive-compulsive disorders and autism being a couple. After every section that ran through some new detriment to heightened senses the book emphasized the importance of having a Guide to help the Sentinel cope and avoid some of these dangers. Jim wished he had checked the book out so he could pitch it to the other side of the room. The stack of photocopies just was not as satisfying to throw.

Jim shook off his thoughts concerning the matter and shut off the shower, quickly drying off. He had every intention of getting into work before Sandburg, if only to give him time to prepare. He wasn't sure if the Guide had seen or recognized him at the library, but Jim was going to make the assumption that he had and put up a defense accordingly. Deny everything and don't let the man corner you, Jim thought to himself as he looked over the room one last time and headed out the door.

In his truck, Jim took an extra moment to run everything through his head and double check his control. He'd hidden every piece of incriminating evidence and taken a moment to focus in on his senses, carefully balancing them to the world around him. Fighting the urge to speed to work, he forced himself to stay calm as he wound through the predawn streets. Sandburg didn't strike him as the early bird type, despite the man's early appearance at the station the day previous. He had plenty of time to make it in before the Guide. In many ways this was like the covert operations he conducted in the military. If he could survive drug cartels actively hunting him down, he could survive one annoying academic.

XXXXX

The next day, Blair woke up as early as he could. It wasn't as early as he'd hoped, but seven o'clock was the best he could do after spending half the night rifling through medical reports, scholarly papers, books and first hand observations of skilled empaths. At some point in the wee hours of the morning, he finally admitted to himself he wasn't going to cram any more information in his head and went to bed.

It was worth it, though. In the midst of a large pile of irrelevant information and false leads Blair found a few references to a similar phenomenon decades ago. A latent Sentinel was stranded in the wilderness for several weeks. During that time, he unknowingly developed his abilities without the aid or assistance of a Guide and upon returning to civilization did not recognize his new talents as Sentinel abilities. The man apparently went several years without a Guide before zoning in a public park. The following medical examinations preformed by Guides and Sentinel doctors showed similar distortions in the man's psychic aura, though not to the extent that seemed to surround Jim Ellison.

After reviewing the case several times and going through the notes Blair had from the brief time spent with the Detective, Blair came to the conclusion that the … distortion, for lack of a better description, surrounding Ellison was most likely due to his only being a latent Sentinel on the very brink of developing his senses. The threshold abilities of a latent Sentinel would have the same muffled feel and the lack of training from a Guide would account for their distorted nature in theory. It was difficult to know for certain since this area of Sentinel Studies was still highly debated.

The theory was sound. It made sense, but the problem was Blair wasn't an expert in Sentinel medicine. It just wasn't his field. He was barely qualified to debate on the issue. He needed a second opinion but didn't want to involve the GSC just yet. This situation seemed particularly delicate, considering Ellison's attitude, and the GSC was more like an elephant in a China shop when it came to discovering a new Sentinel, particularly one who was already an adult. Their approach tended along the lines of get the Sentinel into a safe environment and worry about their personal adjustment to a new lifestyle later. Knowing what he did about the man's military background, Blair wanted to stay on Ellison's good side for as long as possible…not that Blair was currently on Ellison's good side, but he still had hopes.

Blair ran through the options as he climbed out of the shower and quickly got dressed. He'd never make it into the office before Jim like he had wanted to last night. However, he could head over to the university. There were several experts on Sentinel medicine there that would be able to validate or shoot down his theory. As long as he didn't reveal any personal information about the Sentinel's identity then he wouldn't have to worry about the GSC being dragged into the mix just yet. Maybe he could pass it off as a side project or something.

Grabbing a few articles off the pile of clean clothes lying next to his dresser, Blair dressed and made his way into the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before heading out for the day. His apartment was small but clean, or it usually was when he had time to put away his laundry, and conveniently close to Rainier University. The cramp size seemed even smaller with the numerous shelves lining the walls filled with books, artifacts, and research materials. What little wall space was still visible contained photographs and more souvenirs from his various expeditions. At the moment, there was little on the kitchen shelves but some bagels and organic milk in the fridge that had probably gone bad. He planned on going shopping days ago, but got caught up in one thing after another, first with the project, then with his discovery.

Blair settled for chewing on a bagel as he gathered up his research and stuffed it in his pack before heading out the door. The drive didn't take long, despite morning traffic, and fifteen minutes later he found himself in front of Eli Stoddard's office. He knocked, hoping his old mentor was in today. As an anthropologist, Eli always shared Blair's views on Sentinels, looking to the past and remote tribal societies as a better guide for how Sentinels should or could fit into society and the world at large. After the third round of knocking and increasing looks from students passing by, Blair gave up with a huff. He glanced down the hall. He could go ask the official Sentinel Medicine expert, but Blair really didn't want to talk to the man. Unfortunately, Blair needed advice and it looked like his options and time were limited.

Turning Blair hurried down the hall to the office of Dr. Garry Hedrick PhD of Sentinel medicine. The door was propped open so Blair could see the professor sitting behind his desk. Still, Blair hesitated. Dr. Hedrick was decidedly more modernist and extreme in his views on the treatment of Sentinels. Blair and Hedrick had several disagreements in previous interactions, some of them very loud. He almost left but Dr. Hedrick looked up from behind his desk and caught Blair's eye from the partially open door.

Motioning Blair to enter, Hedrick gave him a polite smile. "Dr. Sandburg, what are you doing here? I thought you went on a sabbatical for that project from the GSC."

"I am," Blair said stepping into the book-lined office and shutting the door behind him. "But something came up that I wanted to ask Eli about."

"Eli's out for the day," Dr. Hedrick said as he laid his pen on the desk, pushing away the paper he'd been reviewing, "Perhaps I can help?"

Blair hesitated one last time before he pulled out some of the notes he'd made about his theory and took a seat. "I found a medical case from the forty's where a Sentinel, not realizing that he was a Sentinel, developed a severely warped and distorted psychic aura due to lack of training and a Guide." Blair started, deliberately leaving out his current discovery.

Leaning back in his chair, Hedrick nodded, "I remember reading that case study. It was an exceptional situation. The man actually survived years without help, but he had been forced to make extreme changes in his life, limit the things he did, the places he went, what he ate."

"Wouldn't he have noticed, though?" Blair asked, voicing one the many questions he had about the case, "I read through the observations and notes of the study and I find it odd that he didn't pick up on the fact that he may have been a Sentinel."

Hedrick nodded. "Yes, that was the big question at the time. From what I've read on the incident, it was concluded the gradual nature of the changes was the primary reason. The concessions started out small and grew over time, a little less pepper on the food, buying a few more silk or cotton shirts than wool. By the time he was discovered, he'd given up most of his life without even realizing it." Hedrick paused, fingers steepled and brow furrowed and he ran through the case in his memory. "I believe there was even some reports that he didn't want a Guide initially, but I highly doubt it. The source was unreliable and you know how the facts from those early case studies can be twisted."

"Especially if he was in pain at the time, it wouldn't make sense to turn down a Guide," Blair agreed, before turning back to his main question, "I was curious if a similar distortion were possible in a latent Sentinel, someone who was on the brink of developing his senses."

Hedrick looked back down at him with a slightly startled face. "Why? You haven't found one have you?"

"No," Blair said quickly, hoping his response wasn't too quick. For a brief moment, he thanked God that Hedrick didn't have any empathic talents. He was sure even the most talentless empath could have picked up on his nervousness. "I came across the study in my general researching and I was curious if it was something I should be on the lookout for."

Hedrick leaned forward, placing his forearms on his desk as he watched Blair with a measuring expression. For a moment, Blair doubted whether the man lacked any extra sensory abilities but he didn't get the impression Hedrick suspected anything out of the ordinary.

"It's very possible," the doctor said, after a silence that stretched just a moment too long, "In fact, I'd even say it's more than likely. Sentinels that gain their abilities or are discovered late are always reported to have slightly altered psychic or empathic impressions than those found early in life, but not much more than what would differ from person to person. It's a difficult thing to study since the very nature of empathic and psychic impressions is next to impossible to measure. Most of it is reliant on the interpretation of the person experiencing the impression and therefore extremely subjective. We just haven't found a way to scientifically measure it yet."

Blair nodded as he listened to the explanation. He was well aware of the difficulties that came with trying to relate what he sensed from others to someone who had never experienced it. Medical observation of brain waves, biochemistry, and anything else simply failed to convey sensation and interpretation. Then add in the as-yet unexplained connection that could form between an individual Sentinel and Guide and things became even more complicated.

Hedrick shrugged. "The psychic and spiritual aspects of both Sentinels and Guides are still a great mystery. It's so difficult to study those things empirically and it's only in recent years that the majority of people have started to acknowledge the full extent of that aspect of the field. We just don't know that much about it."

"But it's never been reported that distortions like that could impact the ability to sense a Sentinel, right?" Blair asked for clarification.

Hedrick thought a moment and shook his head. "I can't think of any reports, but as I said, we simply don't have much by way of study into that area yet." He hesitated a moment. "Blair, you realize if you find someone you need to bring them into the GSC, right? It's for their own good. A Sentinel by themselves can't survive out there. The pollutions and chemicals in the air and water alone can be enough to cause severe problems. I know you take a softer approach when it comes to Sentinels and their lifestyle, but even you have to realize the world has changed. We don't live in the jungles of Peru anymore. It's better to hurt a few feelings than have a Sentinel end up dead because you waited too long."

Blair didn't say anything through the Doctor's heartfelt advice. He knew Hedrick had always taken a more cautionary approach to Sentinel medicine, supporting many of the new laws and regulations designed to protect Sentinels from the environment around them. It was a subject they often disagreed on and more than once held heated debates over it. Still, despite Blair's own personal beliefs on the subject, he couldn't deny that Dr. Hedrick cared about the health and lives of all Sentinels. Even if Blair didn't think he understood the personal repercussions that course of action could have, the man's heart was in the right place so instead of making any comments or arguments back Blair just nodded.

"Don't worry. If I do happen to find anyone that meets the bill of a Sentinel, I'll be sure to do the best thing possible for them," Blair said.

Hedrick didn't say anything more, just looked at Blair with a level gaze. Blair held the Professor's gaze. He had no doubt if Hedrick thought he knew about a latent Sentinel the man would call the GSC immediately. A small part of Blair regretted coming to ask for the second opinion but he had little to no experience in this field and couldn't fully trust his own theories. Then, suddenly, Hedrick's gaze cut away, back to his paper-stacked desk and leaned back in his faux leather chair again.

"I'm sure you will," He said, with wave of his hand.

Blair took that chance to stand up and prepare to leave. "Well, thank you, doctor. I'll be sure to keep all this in mind during my study."

Hedrick rose from his chair, as well, taking Blair's offered hand. "I hope I've been some assistance. It is an interesting matter, just very difficult to study, especially for an outsider like myself. It's probably the reason why we haven't made much progress since that case occurred."

"No, you've been a great help, but I really need to get back to the department. I'm still trying to win their trust so it can be a little difficult." Blair gathered up his things and turned toward the door.

"I can understand. Good luck, then. I hope you find a Sentinel while you're there."

"Thanks, I'm certainly going to try," Blair muttered, pulling the door open and moving out into a hallway filled with students. The early class must have just gotten out. He weaved through the milling crowds heading for the exit and his car. A quick glance at his watch and Blair grimaced. He was going to be so late, something which was not a good impression for the second day, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. Maybe he could fix the copier machine and make up for it that way.

XXXXX

Jim threw another side glance at the clock, checking the time again. The morning was wearing on and there was still no sign of Sandburg. At first, when he'd gotten into the department with no sign of the Guide in sight he was relieved. The delay gave him time to settle himself, get ready for a long and trying day, though if the Guide didn't get there soon the day wouldn't be nearly as long and trying as he originally thought. A brief flash of annoyance passed through him as he noted another half hour passed. If the man was going to be attached to the department for the time being the least he could do was be on time about it, but Jim quickly squashed the feeling. Any minute without Sandburg was a good minute and if the observer couldn't keep it together enough to be on time in the morning maybe the ridiculous project of his would be canceled and Jim could go back to living his own life without fear of imminent discovery.

Maybe, the project has already been canceled, Jim thought to himself with a certain amount of hope.

The feeling did not last, however, as Jim heard the familiar thumping coming up in the elevator and stopping at his floor. Sandburg rushed into the room a moment later, un-slinging his backpack as he approached Jim's desk.

"Sorry I'm late, man," Sandburg said breathless, dumping his bag next to Jim's desk and wheeling a chair over. "I had to swing by the university for something."

"Oh? You teaching classes still?" Jim asked. He was fishing, he knew, looking for anything that would keep Sandburg out of the department and away from him for a few hours out of the day. If Sandburg had classes then Jim could do desk work during those times and make sure he was elsewhere the rest of the day.

Sandburg looked at Jim with surprise, eyebrows shooting to his hair at actually being addressed by the cop. "Nah," he said, unknowingly squashing Jim's plan, "I'm on sabbatical until this thing is over so I don't have any classes or responsibilities to worry about. I just wanted to double check some things with a colleague before coming in today."

Jim shot his tag-along a glance. He didn't like the sound of that at all.

There was a pregnant pause as Jim didn't respond with so much as a grunt. The Detective could feel Sandburg waiting for something to continue the conversation, but if he was expecting something different from yesterday's silent treatment he had another thing coming.

After a few moments of hanging silence Sandburg settled down with an audible sigh, pulling out a note book from his backpack. The two quickly fell into the same pattern from the day before, only this time Sandburg's attempts at conversation were fewer and far between. The silence seemed heavier as well, a giant pink elephant from last night sitting at the desk with the two men.

Jim kept his back to Sandburg as much as possible, focusing on his computer screen as he ran through information from his recent murder case. He knew the Sandburg kept shooting looks at him, wanting to say something, and he had a pretty good idea what that conversation would revolve around, but Jim wasn't offering any openings.

Resisting the temptation to roll his neck and release some of the tension that had built up there, Jim glared at the computer, no longer reading the information it displayed. His senses kept swinging back and forth like a pendulum.

The book Jim read the night before stated that Sentinels had a tendency to feel more comfortable using their senses around people who were more "empathically inclined". The book claimed it was a personality trait similar to wall-flowers shirking away from large crowds or social butterflies attracted to noisy, busy place. Jim personally had a different theory. It seemed more likely the lack of sleep he got from the night before was screwing with his control combined with the stress of dealing with Sandburg. He always had a little more difficulty keeping his senses at a normal level in stressful situations, especially if there was a perceived threat in the area, and Sandburg definitely constituted as a threat. Either way, the constant effort to pull everything back in and refocus was giving him a head, neck, and shoulder ache all in one fell swoop.

Behind him, Jim could hear Sandburg scratching away on his note pad. The clock on the wall seemed to be ticking abominably loud. Even the steady creak of Rafe's chair across the room was getting on Jim's nerves. He checked the time hoping it wasn't too early to break for lunch and a chance to sit out in his truck listening to the AM static channel. Eleven thirty wasn't too early for lunch, was it? Granted he'd gotten in a little later than normal, but it had still been earlier than the rest of the department. Behind him, he could hear Sandburg take in a breath to make another attempt at conversation and Jim was out of his chair like a shot.

"Lunch," was all Jim said as he grabbed his jacket and moved past Sandburg.

Sandburg's head came up before quickly closing his notebook. "Great! Where are we going?"

"I don't know where you're going, but I'm going out," Jim replied heading for the break room to get his packed lunch, Sandburg hot on his heels.

There was a brief pause as his tag-along followed him into the empty break room. "Do you mind if I come along?"

"Yes, actually, I do," Jim said, not caring that it came out rude and irritable.

Jim opened the fridge in the back corner and started sifting through boxes of tub-a-ware and brown bags, pieces of fruit and bottles of soda. His lunch was pushed to the back, one of the downfalls to coming in early. Before the senses, he would go to Wonder Burger or another restaurant in the area, but as things got worse he started making his own lunch. That way he knew exactly what went into what he was eating. The last thing he wanted notice when eating lunch was that the person who made hadn't washed their hands or that the restaurant had a rat problem. It saved money, too. Stacking various mystery food items on the counter between the sink and the coffee machine, Jim grumble to himself as he looked for his brown paper bag. So help him, if someone took his roast beef on rye with extra Swiss cheese…

"You pack your own lunch?" Sandburg asked, his voice peaked with interest.

"Me and half the department," Jim muttered, not caring if Sandburg heard him or not. Ah, there it was.

Sandburg didn't say anything more for a few moments. Jim could feel the man's eyes boring into his back as he crammed things back into the fridge. The Guide wanted to say something, but he wasn't sure if he should. Jim could feel the indecision hanging in the air like the giant pink elephant that had followed them from the desk. It rested in the breath Sandburg held in preparation to speak, in the way he shifted and twitched before saying anything.

"Don't trust restaurant food?" Sandburg asked. When Jim didn't answer, he took a breath and continued, "You know, Jim-"

Jim shot Sandburg a glare that would have withered poison ivy.

Despite the glare, Sandburg drew in a deep breath and began again, "Detective Ellison, last night I was at the library and while I was there someone-"

Jim kept his glare steady with no hint of a reaction crossing his expression. His lack of response slowed Sandburg's momentum and he stopped, unsure how to continue.

After a moment Sandburg tried another approach, "Sometimes people have particular talents and they don't even realize it until one day they just…What I mean to say is traditionally, in ancient societies and today, sometimes it takes time to…let me start over." Sandburg paused, clasping his hand and putting his two pointer fingers to his lips. "Have you ever noticed that things can sometimes be too loud or bright or too much in general?"

Jim shut the fridge door with a dull thud. He turned to the man who was currently blocking the only way out of the small room. Damn, cornered. "What exactly are you implying?" he asked in a low voice with a few steps to bring him in the other man's personal space.

Sandburg frowned at the low tone and the hostile glare Jim was sending him. "I…I was just wondering if…" The Guide faded off, again unsure how to continue. They stared at each other for a few moments before Sandburg seemed to make up his mind. "I was wondering if there was any possibility that you could be a Sentinel," he said in a quiet voice, his eyes never leaving Jim's.

Jim felt his heart stutter slightly at the question. He expected it, but hearing it spoken out loud was no less disturbing. He didn't answer right away, giving himself a chance to regain a little of control from the panic that had momentarily grabbed his heart. Deny everything, he repeated silently to himself before speaking up in a quiet, cold voice, "What would give you that idea? If I were a Sentinel, I would be at the GSC or with some Guide."

"Ah…well," Sandburg tried, his voice hesitant, heartbeat stuttering a nervous pattern from Jim's towering proximity, "If your senses hadn't come online yet, it's possible no one may have noticed…b-but we could go and take some tests at the GSC…"

Jim clamped down on any fear, but his anger, he let that seep through with no problem. In fact, he barely restrained himself from slamming Sandburg against the wall. "Look, you neo-hippy witchdoctor punk," he hissed, "I am not a Sentinel. No one in my family has ever been a Sentinel. I am not going to take any of your tests and I am not going to tolerate any of your accusations."

Sandburg shrunk back bumping into the counter, eyes wide and mouth dropping open, but Jim didn't let up. He moved with the man, staying in his personal space and glaring down at him.

"I don't like you, Sandburg, and if I had a choice you wouldn't even be in the same building as me, but I don't. So this is how we're going to fix the situation. You're going to stop trying to be my friend, get your notes for your study, and then we can both move on in our own separate directions and forget each other ever existed."

Jim didn't give the other a chance to respond as he stormed out of the department toward the stairs. He didn't know what he was going to do after lunch, but he was coming up with some excuse to stay away from the station. No way in Hell was he coming back today.

TBC…

Thanks for reading!