Chapter Text
"I've got hundreds and hundreds of documented cases over here of one or two hyperactive senses but not one single subject with all five. You could be the real thing."
The Sentinel
"Hey Jim."
"Joel." Detective Jim Ellison looked up from his desk at the burly Captain of the Bomb Squad. "Something I can do for you?"
"Just wondering where your new partner was. I haven't seen him around since you took down the Switchman."
Ellison frowned. He hadn't talked to Sandburg since the afternoon a few days ago when they'd caught Veronica Sarris. He'd had a lot of work to do tying up the loose ends of the case and he hadn't had time to call him. But then, Sandburg hadn't contacted him either. He wondered if the experience of nearly being blown to pieces had scared the kid off. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if it had. His senses seemed to have settled down in the last few days. Maybe everything was going to be okay and he wouldn't need him.
"I'm not sure where he is right now. And, uh, Joel? You know, he's not exactly my partner."
Joel Taggert raised his eyebrows. "I thought he was going to be working with you."
For a split second every sound in the bullpen was amplified and reverberated in Ellison's skull. Just as suddenly his hearing returned to normal, leaving a throbbing headache in the aftermath. Then again, he thought wearily, maybe it wasn't going to be so easy.
Ellison sighed. "Yeah. He will be working with me, but it's a bit complicated. I need to talk to Simon about it first. Were you looking for him about something in particular?"
Taggert shrugged. "Not really. I've still got his videotape. Turns out there wasn't anything useful on it about the case and I didn't want it to get lost in evidence lockup. He seemed real concerned about getting it back." He pulled an 8mm videotape out of his suit pocket and held it out.
Ellison took the tape and stared at it thoughtfully. "I'll see that he gets it. Thanks, Joel."
"You're welcome. Tell him I'll see him around, okay Jim?"
"Will do." He watched Taggert walk out of Major Crime and then pulled out his wallet. He'd stuck Sandburg's card behind his driver's license. A single telephone number was hand written on the back of the card and Jim assumed it was the kid's office number. He frowned as he realized that he only knew how to find him at Rainier University. He didn't have a clue where Sandburg lived. He shrugged and reached for the phone.
"Blair Sandburg."
"Sandburg, this is Jim Ellison." He smiled slightly. Kid sounded even younger on the phone than he looked in person, he thought.
"Oh. Hey. Detective Ellison. How are you, man? Your senses aren't kicking up, are they?"
"I'm fine." Ellison frowned. He sounded like that was the only reason for Jim to call him. Okay, so he was calling because he'd just had a sensory spike, but couldn't he be calling for another reason?
"Oh. Um, that's good." The voice on the phone sounded uncertain.
"Look. I was just calling because I hadn't heard from you. I wanted to see if you were all right. I'm sure it's not every day that you go up against someone like the Switchman." And I'm hoping you're not going to back out of our arrangement now that you've experienced a bit of my world, he thought grimly.
"You can say that again." Sandburg chuckled nervously. "I'm fine. Really. I've just been busy the last few days here at school. You know, tests and grading and stuff. Sorry I haven't been in touch."
Well, at least he sounded sincere, Ellison thought. "No problem."
"Yeah." There was a hesitation and Ellison heard a softly in drawn breath. "So, you weren't really serious about that Police Academy thing, right? 'Cause I gotta tell you, I don't think that'll work."
So that's why he hadn't called. He shook his head. "That was a joke, Darwin. I figure what we'll do is try to set you up as a ride-along observer. That way you can tag along temporarily with me while I work."
"Uh-huh. That'd be great, man." His voice held a note of excitement. "Observing's what I'm trained to do after all, you know? And it's important that I see you work. That way I'll be able to figure out ways for you to use your senses and to learn to control them while on the job. So, when do I start this ride-along thing?"
"Hold up there, Chief. We have to get this approved by my Captain first. And then there's some paperwork for you to fill out, make sure all the legal crap is covered." Ellison breathed a silent sigh of relief. The kid wasn't going to flake out on him.
"Yeah, I understand. Um, we're not going to tell your Captain about your senses, are we?"
"No way." Ellison closed his eyes briefly against a flare of his headache. "That's just asking for trouble. No, we'll go with a story about you needing to do some police observation for your thesis. Nothing specific."
"Okay. I doubt he'd believe the real story anyway." He sounded impatient. "So, when do we start?"
"The Captain's tied up in meetings for the next few days. We won't be able to meet with him until after that. Today's Friday. How about you come down to the Station next Wednesday?"
"Sure, man, I can do that." Another hesitation, and then he said in a rush, "In the meantime, how would you feel about running some more tests on your senses? Nothing uncomfortable, just stuff to get a better baseline on what you can do now. Help you find a few more ways for control."
Reluctantly, Ellison agreed, "I guess we could do that. I'm tied up here until 5:00. How about I swing by your place tonight? I'll bring a pizza." And you can tell me just where the hell it is you live, he thought.
"Um, tonight? Yeah, I guess tonight's okay." He sounded nervous.
"If you've got something else going on, tell me." Probably has a hot date, he thought irritably.
"No, no, tonight's fine. But, tell you what. Why don't you bring that pizza over to my office at Rainier? I've still got some work to finish and I'll be here at least until seven."
"Okay. How about I get there around six, then?"
"Cool. See ya, man."
There was a faint click as Sandburg hung up the receiver. Ellison narrowed his eyes and stared at the phone. The kid was still on board with helping him, but something about the conversation wasn't sitting right. Was it his imagination, or had Sandburg just avoided telling him where he lived? Why wouldn't he want Jim to know that? He shook his head. Probably being paranoid, he thought. He'd just ask him straight out. Besides, he'd have to put down where he lived when he filled out the paperwork to be an observer.
That settled, he glanced at the clock. He had three and a half hours before he could reasonably drive over to Rainier and he might as well get some of the paperwork done that had piled up on his desk over the last few weeks while he was out chasing the Switchman. He worked diligently on the unfinished report in front of him. Idly he wondered what Sandburg would like on the pizza. He'd make it a large one; the kid didn't look like he ate regularly. Startled, he clamped down on that line of thought firmly. He'd eat whatever Jim brought over and if he didn't like it then he could order his own damn pizza.
This was a temporary situation until he got control of his senses and didn't need any more help. The less contact they had outside of actually working on the Sentinel thing, the better. He'd just have to make sure that Sandburg understood that this was strictly a business arrangement, not a partnership or a friendship. That decision firmly in mind, Jim signed the report he'd just finished, pulled another from the stack to his right and glanced again at the clock. Two and a half hours and he'd order that pizza.
Blair sat back in his chair and stared at the phone as if it were a coiled rattlesnake ready to strike. His brain kept telling him that this was a huge mistake. Why, oh why, when he'd finally found what he was looking for, had the Sentinel turned out to be not only a cop, but ex-military as well?
He really wasn't interested in having the guy poking around in his life. He shouldn't get involved with Detective Ellison. Involved. He snorted. Yeah, that was a good one. As if the uptight cop would ever try to see past the clothes and the hair to the real Blair Sandburg. And if that didn't happen, well, involvement was so far out of the picture that it wasn't even in the same studio.
No, the guy would never see Blair as anything other than a, what was it he'd called him? Oh yeah, "neo-hippie witch doctor punk." He sighed. Just as well. So long as the detective saw Blair as an eccentric college student, well, he wouldn't get real curious. And the guy really did need his help. His gut told him that he couldn't abandon Ellison. No matter how tempting it might be at the moment. And surely things wouldn't be any worse than what he'd experienced during the Switchman case. Right?
Oh yeah, keep telling yourself that Blair boy, he thought sarcastically, and maybe you'll even believe it eventually. For now, he needed Ellison as the case study for his doctoral thesis. And the cop needed his help to establish some control over his wayward senses. He'd help the man get control and then he'd get his doctorate. No harm, no foul. Surely it was a mutually beneficial arrangement?
So why did he feel so uneasy?