Disclaimers:
All Things Sentinel don'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 Note: Well I have to apologize, but RL dumped on me. It should not be too long before the last chapter and the epilogue.
The Choices We Make.
By: Axianna
It took her a few moments to gather her thoughts as she woke up someplace very different from where she fainted. Thinking about it, she was rather glad, because there had been a fair bit of the red stuff splattered around once she started looking about. She looked at the ceiling above her and wondered where she had ended up.
The last time she fainted, some idiot had dragged her into a professor's office (that she'd never been in before) and then locked the door, so she could have some privacy. Lets just say they came running when she started yelling at the top of her lungs. She shifted on the couch she was on and tried to sit up, only to have Daryl push her back down.
"You should probably lie down a bit more."
"Daryl, I fainted, I didn't have a near death experience." She pushed off the blanket that some kind soul had placed over her and looked around. "So where are we?"
"Dad's office." He got up and poured her a cup of coffee.
"Oh, hell. How long was I out?" She gratefully took a sip and sighed as the hot liquid cleared out the lingering cob webs in her head.
"Not quite two hours." Daryl had to rush over and take the cup out of her hands as she choked.
"What the hell happened?" She reached out and reclaimed her cup and took another sip of the coffee that was better than she'd thought it would be.
"Well Jim tried to catch you, but somehow you slipped out of his grasp and hit your head when you fell."
"Great, now I have a concussion as well." She stood up and was pleased when the floor didn't spin too much without her.
"The EMT's checked you out…" Daryl started.
"Then why aren't we having this conversation in the emergency room?" Not that she minded in the least. Hospitals held about as much appeal to her as a teen slasher flick.
"Well, I sort of explained about your parents and they said that since it wasn't serious, as long as someone kept an eye on you for the next twenty-four hours, you should be fine."
Anna closed her eyes against the images that assaulted her at the mention of her parents. Her mother's body, barely identifiable as such, crushed in the confines of the twisted metal wreck of their car; her father bleeding to death in the ER, because despite all the advances made in the medical world, serious injuries for a hemophiliac still spelled death. And in all of it, blood. Everywhere. Spilling onto the road, spilling onto the floor, on the walls, on her clothes, on her hands, in her hair. She hasn't dealt too well with the sight of blood since then.
"Thanks. I don't think that waking up in the hospital would have added to my day at all." Opening her eyes, Anna took another sip of her coffee and glanced out the window to where three people were having a rather intense conversation. "Have they decided what to do with me yet?"
"What do you mean?"
"From the comment your father made, apparently they've had people nosing around before."
"Well, a few years ago, some guy started a fuss and brought the whole mess back in everyone's face."
"I don't remember that." She frowned as she tried to think back of any mention of Blair's research after the original publicity over his dissertation.
"That's the year your Aunt moved and you stayed with her for the summer." Daryl sat back in his father's chair and recalled the mess it ended up in. "This jerk managed to get a copy of Blair's dissertation and insisted that it was all real. He made Jim's life hell and the whole mess drove everybody here around the bend. It was hard enough for Blair to admit he screwed up in the first place, but having to go through it all again wasn't very pleasant for all involved."
"So that's why he called me a Sentinel hunter. If I knew how much of a bother this would have been for everyone, I wouldn't have started this in the first place." Anna plunked her cup down and moved to the window to stare out. She was surprised when her gaze was met by the blue eyes of Det Ellison. "It's just…
"I never told you about my Aunt," she started. "When she first took me in, after my parent's died, I never noticed anything unusual. It wasn't until I'd gotten so depressed that I went across the field beside our house and started popping pills and she saw me.
"I'm not saying that she could see me across the field like I could see you across the field. I'm saying she could see that it was me, that I was balling my eyes out and dry swallowing her prescription headache meds across the field. She was one of Blair's first subjects." Anna turned away from the mesmerizing gaze of Det Ellison. For some reason, she felt that he knew the gist of what she was saying. It must have been written all over her face.
"Anyway, she took me to the hospital and got my stomached pumped and then we sat and had a long talk. I must have been twelve at the time. The thing is, the doctors had diagnosed her as severely agoraphobic because she got dizzy, disoriented and had blinding headaches if she wasn't surrounded by walls all the time. Even windows threw her for a loop. Anyway, one day, Blair came knocking on her door and told her the real reason for her problem.
"He helped her a lot and she used to keep in touch with him for the longest time. Anyway, when his dissertation came out and the mess that followed, she was so.. I don't know, mad? Disappointed maybe? Well, they lost contact eventually. The point is, he gave my aunt back her freedom. He taught her how to control what she was seeing and how to focus. I never wanted to mess his life up again."
She sniffled a little and tried to blink away the moisture building up in her eyes. Daryl came up beside her and put a hand on her shoulder before deciding that wasn't enough and pulled her into a hug.
"Hey, man. Your dad's gonna get the wrong idea and then I'll be lucky to get of this building alive." She pulled away after a few moments, swiped at the moisture in her eyes and smiled up at him. "But thanks."
"Why didn't you say anything about this. All this time, I thought this was because you had some fanciful idea in your head about modern day super heroes." Daryl scolded her, but his eyes held a note of relief.
"Well, it's not something that comes up in regular conversation. And you were my TA, not my psychologist." She pulled a hand through her hair and than caught a glimpse of her watch. "Oh crap, I'm late!" She grabbed her bag and opened the office door.
"For what?" Daryl wondered what she could be late for. Classes had been out for a while and most people at the university would be high tailing it out of town for a long weekend caused by an administrative holiday.
"I'm supposed to talk to the head of the department at two. It's gonna take me forever to get there on the buses." Her hand again went through her hair, this time snagging on a tangle. "Not to mention I probably look like something the cat dragged in."
"Why don't I give you a ride? It'll give you a chance to tidy up and I don't have to be at work until tonight." He watched as she paused in the door way, her desire to clean up warring with her desire not to be an inconvenience.
"You don't mind?" she asked.
"Not at all." Daryl followed her out of the room. "Besides, doctor's orders. You're not supposed to be alone for at least 24 hours."
"You had to remind me of that." She looked around the room that was empty except for the three men, now relaxing by the coffee room door. "So where is the little girls' room anyway."
"Um," Daryl looked around with a slightly confused look on his face. "I actually have no idea. I know the men's room in just outside the pen, but…"
"I know, you haven't exactly looked for its counter part. Well, since you're giving me a ride I have a chance to look for it." Heading out of the bullpen, she eventually found the washroom so, after running a comb through her hair and pinning it up, touching up her makeup and washing out a spot on her shirt, she deemed herself as presentable as she was going to get and went in search of Daryl. She found him talking with his father.
"Shall we blow this joint?" She smiled at both of them, feeling more herself than she had in a while. Confiding in Daryl had been one of the better ideas she'd come up with lately.
"Listen, I just got a call from work. They want me in early, but I can still drop you off. Can one of your roommates pick you up?" Daryl looked unimpressed with his change in schedule.
"No can do. Tina took off to her parent's cabin with her boyfriend yesterday andAliceis still on the expedition inArizona. But I can take the bus home." A quick glance at her watch told her they still had a few minutes before they had to leave.
"Wait a minute. You're suppose to have someone with you for at least the next twenty four hours."
"I'll be fine. They just say that so nobody sues them if something happens." She glanced around, a bit uncomfortable at this display of concern.
"They say that because things do happen. I'd keep you company, but I'm the night shift." Daryl was deep in thought and then turned pleading eyes to his dad.
"Don't look at me, son. Maggi wanted to go out to dinner tonight." With that, Mr. Banks headed back to his office.
"You know I'm a big girl, I don't need a baby-sitter." Anna waved her hands and hoped to nip this thing before it got any worse. It wasn't like she was going to die if someone didn't keep her company.
"Could you get Michelle to stay with you for the night?" Daryl ignored her comment.
"It's her and Lorne's anniversary this weekend. It would take more than a not really sick friend to pry her out of his arms tonight."
"What about Terri?"
"Trip toEurope. It was a present to herself for graduating. Now would you quit worrying? I'm starting to feel smothered here. Besides which, we have to get going or we'll both be late." She tugged on Daryl's arm, hoping he'd take the hint.
"But the doctor said…"
"Just give it up Daryl. Everybody I know is busy tonight, or not in town. One night on my own isn't going to kill me."
"If you need a place to stay for the night, you could crash at our place." It took a few moments for her to realize exactly what Det Ellison said. It wasn't every day a practical stranger offered her a place to stay for the night. Daryl's eyes lit up though as he considered this new development.
"Hey, that works out great. You guys could pick her up after you're done here and she could sleep on the couch. That way I know she'll be okay."
"Are you nuts!" Anna smacked Daryl. "I hardly know these guys and you expect me to spend the night at their place. No offense guys, but for all I know you could be serial rapists or something. Besides which, it's not fair to them to have me imposing on them."
"Listen, it's no fuss for Blair and me" Ellison broke in.
"Besides which, you could fill him in on how your aunt's been doing." Daryl looked at her, hoping to get her to cave.
"Who's your Aunt?" Blair threw his two bit's in and Anna knew it was a lost cause.
"Jackie Drake, she was one of your…"
"You're Jackie's niece? No wonder you looked familiar. How are her eyes doing? She kept having trouble with headaches, has she gotten over that yet?"
"Well, she still gets the occasional doozy when she over does things, but they're less frequent now."
"Has she kept up her meditation?" Blair's eyes lit up with her answer and she felt herself getting swept up in the conversation as they waited for the elevator.
"Actually, she gets the headaches when she sluffs off on meditating. She still uses that tape with the drums on it that you gave her." She stepped in and held the door open for Daryl, but he said he forgot his jacket in his Dad's office. Saying she'd meet him by his car, she went back to comparing notes on her aunt with Blair.
"You were listening in, weren't you." Daryl had waited for the doors to close before evil eyeing the guy who for the longest time was Uncle Jim.
"Yea. I thought it might be a good idea under the circumstances." Jim realized at that moment that the son had inherited his father's glare.
"Well, since she told you about her aunt anyway I won't turn you in to Dad, who'll lecture you on listening into private conversations. Just don't do it again, okay?" Daryl had definitely inherited his father's leadership abilities. But he was still a bit young to be trying them out on a guy who could whoop his butt at one on one.
"Yes Dad." Jim snipped.
"Shesh, first Anna and now you. I'm just concerned about the physical, mental and moral well being of my friends. Is that a crime?" Daryl held his hands out as he waited for the elevator to come back. "You sure you're okay with her staying for the night?"
"Like you said, it's doctor's orders. Besides, she kinda reminds me of Blair."
"No way man, they're totally different." Daryl was quick to deny any similarities between the two. For one thing, she was no where near being a pacifist.
"Well, I'm not saying she's a carbon copy or anything. Maybe it's just the anthropology connection." Jim looked thoughtful as he compared the two in his mind. "But, you better get going before she drives herself over there and leaves you stranded."
"Thanks for letting her stay over though."
"Any time."
On that note, Daryl stepped into the elevator and with a reminder to pick Anna up, waved as the doors closed.
A few hours later, as Anna was kicking pebbles in the Hargrove Hall parking lot, she wondered how she let herself get talked into that. The sense of well being that had carried her through to her appointment, fled as the department head told her to find a new topic for study or look elsewhere for her continuing education.
Kicking another pebble, she told herself she wasn't going to go there. She wasn't going to spend the evening ranting about some geezer who didn't want to take a bit of a chance exploring a new area of research just because it had the taint of a scandal attached to it. It wasn't like she was trying to recreate Blair's work or something, she just wanted to study how people with heightened senses fit in the standard social structure of the modern age, compared to their roles in ancient cultures.
This would have given her a chance to find people who had adjusted to their gifts, but also people whose gifts have turned into curses. She couldn't help wondering if there weren't a few people in the psyche ward who really did hear the voices in their heads. She figured if she could find them, she could help them to some extent or at the very least direct them to someone who could.
From the way the department was reacting, though, you'd think that she was looking for some, how did Daryl so aptly put it, some modern day super hero. If such a person existed, which aside from a few of her wilder fantasies she never really believed they did, she could never expose them. Look at what happened to Det Ellison and that was just from an unsubstantiated, technically unpublished paper.
Feeling her frustration level rise, again, she took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She went through a quick breathing exercise her aunt taught her but it didn't help. She settled for sitting on the grass and taking her frustration out on that. Ten minutes later she had to move from the bald spot she'd ripped up. She had at least another ten minutes until Blair and Det Ellison were due to pick her up, so she decided to give up on waiting and went to find a soda.
As she made her way back to the parking lot, a few minutes later, they where already there and as she got closer, she could hear part of their conversation.
"And how many times have you been shot in the last ten years?" Blair was rocking back and forth on his heals, just waiting for his partner's answer.
"What, five times?"
"So that's my two, compared to your five. I think I've pulled my weapon maybe once while on duty; you drag the thing out every time there's the slightest threat. I think the statistics confirm that a drawn gun just provokes further violence." Blair jabbed a finger at Ellison to emphasize his point, by which time Anna was right beside them.
"Sorry I'm late, I went to get something to drink. You guys ready to go?" She threw her bottle into the recycle bin and walked up to the truck door. Blair got in first so she ended up squeezed up against the window. It was a nice truck, though in her ignorance about vehicles, she wouldn't be able to tell one truck from another unless they were a different color. There were the standard pleasantries ('How did the appointment go?' 'The guy's a bastard who deserves to be eviscerated.' 'That good?' 'Yea, that good. How did work go?' 'Paperwork was invented by the devil as a torture device.' 'That good?' 'Yea, that good,') but as the drive progressed, Anna couldn't help asking something.
"Okay, my curiosity is eating me alive. What in heaven's name have you guys been doing that you ended up getting shot seven times between the two of you?" She'd read the national statistics for Job site injuries when she started her research. Police work had one of the lowest records for injuries, but evidently, not these two.
"Ask the trouble magnet over there." Jim glanced meaningfully at his partner who feigned total innocence.
"Me, a trouble magnet? May I remind you that I hadn't been shot, stabbed, attacked by crazed psychos, drowned, and so on until after I met you. Well except for that time inAfrica, but that was just your standard mugging so I'm not including that."
"How many times have you been stabbed?" Jim's face took on a slightly devious cast waiting for the answer, and Anna wondered just what she'd started with her question.
"Three." Blair freely admitted.
"Four. I've never been stabbed. And you've had at lest six major concussions."
"I was being held hostage for most of those, and I can't believe you want to include the Dobinski case. It was barely a scratch."
"It had stitches, it counts."
"It's smaller than the 'scratch' on your arm. And what about you and trucks? How many have you totaled? I'll be nice. Let's just keep to the ten year time frame."
"Five." Jim's jaw started to grind at that point. A sore point perhaps? Anna decided that mentioning car accidents in his presence was not a good idea for the future.
"And you broke your arm crashing the Ford. And speaking about concussions, you've had your fair share. What about the time Brackett got out?"
"He cold cocked me, that doesn't qualify. What about…"
Anna sat in wonder for the rest of the trip as the two detectives compared injuries and close calls while trying to blame the other for the injuries. It made for a quick drive home at least. It also made Anna think that today was more typical than she would have thought. What a scary concept. She breathed a sigh of relief as they pulled into a parking lot safe and sound.
She liked the loft right off the bat. First off, the place was spotless. That was something she really appreciated since both of her roommates considered a clean room a sure sign of dementia. The next was that it felt like a home. There was a blanket thrown over the back of a couch, pictures adorning a very full bookcase, even a few masks that she could easily identify, hanging on the wall. Somehow she thought Blair would have distanced himself from Anthropology more than he apparently had.
Putting her backpack on the floor by the couch she became part of what must be a nightly routine. Jim went upstairs and changed; Blair dug into the fridge pulling things out for supper and set her to cutting up vegetables for some kind of casserole. She loved a man who could cook. Especially since she couldn't. Then Jim joined them by starting on a salad.
Supper was better than her standard fair of Yellow Death (AKA mac & cheese) and she drifted with the conversation that covered the upcoming Jag game, the increasing price of tuition, how student life had changed, the upcoming football season, who was teaching Intro to Anthro, the latest troubles in Russia and ended up on the effect of deforestation on tribes in Brazil. That was mostly between her and Blair, though.
The rest of the evening was spent cheering the Jags despite the fact they lost by ten points. By the end of the game, it was getting late so the glasses they'd used were quickly washed (this more than anything else convinced her these guys were neat freaks, well at least one of them) and Jim started rummaging in the closet for some extra blankets. Within no time, she had a bed made up on one of the couches and was left in privacy as the two detectives went to their respective rooms.
After note: Thanks to all those who reviewed and put us on various alerts. I hope you all like this part.