[Fic]: Sacrificing Isaac 005: Road Trip
Category: Pre-slash
Warnings: Angst, post TSbyBS, some cussing, un-beta'd
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own any portion of the Sentinel. No copyright infringement is intended.
There will be more. This came about from sentinel_thurs Challenge #115: Road Trip.
To the Sacrificing Isaac index
005 Road Trip
Driving to Kirkland from Cascade with someone who had been recently shot in the chest when your ass is killing you because you'd been shot in the leg was not something Jim considered a good time. When that someone was Simon, Jim figured he was owed hazardous duty pay. And put up with the asshole of the month pay.
Forty-five minutes into the trip, and enough bitching to get why Joan divorced him, Simon said, "I called Burien."
Jim didn't know what to say to that, so he grunted. Sandburg had only been there for a few hours.
"I told the commander that Sandburg's mother had released the diss without his permission and Sandburg threw himself to the wolves when the publisher and media wouldn't back off." Simon paused to glance at him. He stared through the windshield, jaws clenched. Simon sighed and went back to driving. "Told him that Sandburg did it because he believed it was the only way to do damage control. Same thing I told Warren."
"Warren believes the diss is true," Jim said.
Simon frowned.
"His head might be stuck up the mayor's ass half the time, but he's not stupid." Apparently. Jim looked out the side window.
"He told you?"
Jim shrugged, even though Simon was glaring at the windshield and didn't seem him. "Overheard him bitching in his office."
"Son of a bitch." Simon gripped the steering wheel until the leather squealed. "I should have known something was hinky about getting Sandburg's badge. It was too easy."
Jim shrugged. "Your mouth to God's ear."
"What?"
"Sandburg says it sometimes. Says it's a Jewish thing when he wants to make me eat weird Jewish shit." Jim felt a smile coming on and ruthlessly suppressed it. "He says other stuff when he wants me to eat other weird ethnic shit. Seems the only ethnic food he won't eat is American."
Simon did smile. "Little shit."
"What'd Burien say?"
Simon's smile went away. "Said he doesn't listen to rumors and he doesn't give special treatment to cadets, good or bad. I told him that I didn't give a shit about coddling the kid but I was concerned about hazing. Said he'd keep an eye out."
Jim snorted. "Right. Commanders never see what's going on right under their noses."
Simon glowered at him. "You got something to say, Ellison?"
"You're not a commander, Captain." Jim tried not to wince. "I meant that commanders like the guy at Burien, or Warren. They sit in their shiny offices and polish their noses on someone's ass. They don't see the shit the rank and file throw at each other." Jim slanted a glance at Simon, wishing the man would keep his eyes on the fucking road. "You're in the shit with the rest of us. Except budget time."
Simon turned back to the road and stared at it.
Jim watched the scenery go by.
"Jim."
"What?"
"You think this kid might be one of you?"
Jim didn't say anything, just sighed.
"Yeah," Simon said. "Thought so." He turned on the blinker and exited into downtown Kirkland. It was quiet in the car for the thirty minutes or so it took him to find the library, and then a parking spot and park. "Jim. If he is, what are you going to do?"
Jim shrugged. "Help him."
"About Sandburg."
Jim closed his eyes and dropped his head against the backrest. "Help him, too."
Simon snorted and yanked his keys out of the ignition.
"Fine, sir." Jim snatched up the Brackett file and opened the door. "I don't know what in the fuck I'm going to do, but I'm going to do something." He got out and slammed the door.
Simon climbed out of the car. "Jim---"
"I know I fucked up. I know the whole goddamned situation is fucked up. And there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. In fact, I don't think there was a single fucking thing I could have done about it, no matter what, except to go back in time and tell Sandburg no, in fact, he could not write his dissertation about me." Jim threw his hand out, ala Sandburg, to drive home his point and because there wasn't anything he could hit. "Maybe this whole fucked up situation was inevitable, sir. It's not like he could have kept the dissertation secret. He would be expected to publish it somewhere." Jim shook the Brackett file at Simon. "This should have told us everything. And maybe we could have avoided everything if we'd been paying attention. If I'd been paying attention. Sandburg's a fucking puppy. I knew. I fucking knew."
Simon sighed and didn't say anything.
Jim ducked his head, clenched his free hand into a fist, and did some deep breathing exercises to keep himself from exploding all over the place like a frag grenade.
Simon stuck a cigar in his mouth, but didn't light it. "I hear you."
Goddamned Sandburgs giving everyone new age hippy cooties.
Simon looked around. "Let's do this thing. We'll figure it out as we go along."
Once inside the library, Jim found the woman who had to be Travers immediately. She was standing near a rack full of newspapers, half hiding herself and watching the entrance nervously. Simon was looking around, wearing his best, congenial expression. Jim watched her. She watched him.
"I'm going to go sit at that table in the corner," Jim said. "Let her approach me. I'll wave you over if I need help."
He didn't stick around for a reply. Instead, he waggled the file and tilted his head toward the table, sitting off by itself in a corner between a bank of windows and the stacks. She looked that way, then back at him, frowning. He headed there, took his wallet out and sat down. He flipped open the badge and placed it on the table next to the file.
She edged her way over and inspected the badge. "Detective Ellison."
"Miss Travers."
Her frown deepened. "How did you know it was me?"
"Your heart was the only one beating like crazy."
She looked at him, open-mouthed, her fingers fluttering to the center of her chest, where her heart was still trying to pound its way out of her ribcage.
He tucked his badge away in his pocket. "Yes, I can still hear your heartbeat."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I know you don't believe me," he said. He could smell it. "And it doesn't matter."
Her back stiffened and her chin came up. "Why not?"
"I'm not your brother." He turned the file, so it would be right side up to her, and flipped open the first page. A picture of a suited Lee Brackett stared up at them both. "His name is Lee Brackett. He's a CIA agent, or was before he went rogue."
"What does he have to do with Josh?"
"He wanted to steal a prototype spy plane to sell to the highest bidder. He used me to do it."
She took the seat across from him and tugged the file closer.
Jim closed his eyes. "The Air Force had the plane in a secret location that was accessible only if you knew a few secret patterns, or if you could sense low electrical impulses on a bridge. It was a really stupid security measure, but Brackett knew about my senses. He'd read Blair Sandburg's work in a few anthropology journals and somehow connected it to me. Figured out that I have heightened senses."
She blinked. "You're claiming that you really are a sentinel. That Mr. Sandburg was right about you."
Jim swallowed the bile in the back of his throat, and stared her down. "Yes."
"But I don't understand, why---"
"Because Lee Brackett isn't the only person out there who would think of using me, and people like me, to do things."
She looked down at the file. "Mr. Sandburg told me about wine tasters and perfume company workers."
"Miss Travers, I can hear your heart beating. On a good day, I can read a newspaper from over a thousand feet away. I can smell traces of substances that dogs miss. There are some parts of our government that aren't very nice. Blair," Jim used a finger to push the file just a bit closer to her, "he did the best he could to protect me." He smiled. "He always thinks the best of humanity, even after three years of riding around with me, solving crimes. All he's ever wanted was to find a sentinel, and to help. People like Brackett, he never really got the idea that they exist."
"But his press conference?"
"It wasn't about protecting me from the Bracketts of the world. It was about getting the press off my back and giving me my privacy."
"Oh." She leaned back in her chair. "And you think Josh might be like you."
"People with auditory hallucinations don't hear things happening in the real world. I'm no shrink, but even I know that."
She was back to frowning, but this time thoughtfully. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
"That's pretty much policework in a nutshell."
"If he can repeat conversations I've had hundreds of feet away, through the walls, it's not possible that it's an auditory hallucination. That means he must be hearing me, somehow."
"Yes."
"I'll take you to see him."
Go to part 006 Clouded Leopard
Go to part 004 Anticipation
To the Sacrificing Isaac index
Warnings: Angst, post TSbyBS, some cussing, un-beta'd
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own any portion of the Sentinel. No copyright infringement is intended.
There will be more. This came about from sentinel_thurs Challenge #115: Road Trip.
To the Sacrificing Isaac index
005 Road Trip
Driving to Kirkland from Cascade with someone who had been recently shot in the chest when your ass is killing you because you'd been shot in the leg was not something Jim considered a good time. When that someone was Simon, Jim figured he was owed hazardous duty pay. And put up with the asshole of the month pay.
Forty-five minutes into the trip, and enough bitching to get why Joan divorced him, Simon said, "I called Burien."
Jim didn't know what to say to that, so he grunted. Sandburg had only been there for a few hours.
"I told the commander that Sandburg's mother had released the diss without his permission and Sandburg threw himself to the wolves when the publisher and media wouldn't back off." Simon paused to glance at him. He stared through the windshield, jaws clenched. Simon sighed and went back to driving. "Told him that Sandburg did it because he believed it was the only way to do damage control. Same thing I told Warren."
"Warren believes the diss is true," Jim said.
Simon frowned.
"His head might be stuck up the mayor's ass half the time, but he's not stupid." Apparently. Jim looked out the side window.
"He told you?"
Jim shrugged, even though Simon was glaring at the windshield and didn't seem him. "Overheard him bitching in his office."
"Son of a bitch." Simon gripped the steering wheel until the leather squealed. "I should have known something was hinky about getting Sandburg's badge. It was too easy."
Jim shrugged. "Your mouth to God's ear."
"What?"
"Sandburg says it sometimes. Says it's a Jewish thing when he wants to make me eat weird Jewish shit." Jim felt a smile coming on and ruthlessly suppressed it. "He says other stuff when he wants me to eat other weird ethnic shit. Seems the only ethnic food he won't eat is American."
Simon did smile. "Little shit."
"What'd Burien say?"
Simon's smile went away. "Said he doesn't listen to rumors and he doesn't give special treatment to cadets, good or bad. I told him that I didn't give a shit about coddling the kid but I was concerned about hazing. Said he'd keep an eye out."
Jim snorted. "Right. Commanders never see what's going on right under their noses."
Simon glowered at him. "You got something to say, Ellison?"
"You're not a commander, Captain." Jim tried not to wince. "I meant that commanders like the guy at Burien, or Warren. They sit in their shiny offices and polish their noses on someone's ass. They don't see the shit the rank and file throw at each other." Jim slanted a glance at Simon, wishing the man would keep his eyes on the fucking road. "You're in the shit with the rest of us. Except budget time."
Simon turned back to the road and stared at it.
Jim watched the scenery go by.
"Jim."
"What?"
"You think this kid might be one of you?"
Jim didn't say anything, just sighed.
"Yeah," Simon said. "Thought so." He turned on the blinker and exited into downtown Kirkland. It was quiet in the car for the thirty minutes or so it took him to find the library, and then a parking spot and park. "Jim. If he is, what are you going to do?"
Jim shrugged. "Help him."
"About Sandburg."
Jim closed his eyes and dropped his head against the backrest. "Help him, too."
Simon snorted and yanked his keys out of the ignition.
"Fine, sir." Jim snatched up the Brackett file and opened the door. "I don't know what in the fuck I'm going to do, but I'm going to do something." He got out and slammed the door.
Simon climbed out of the car. "Jim---"
"I know I fucked up. I know the whole goddamned situation is fucked up. And there's not a fucking thing I can do about it. In fact, I don't think there was a single fucking thing I could have done about it, no matter what, except to go back in time and tell Sandburg no, in fact, he could not write his dissertation about me." Jim threw his hand out, ala Sandburg, to drive home his point and because there wasn't anything he could hit. "Maybe this whole fucked up situation was inevitable, sir. It's not like he could have kept the dissertation secret. He would be expected to publish it somewhere." Jim shook the Brackett file at Simon. "This should have told us everything. And maybe we could have avoided everything if we'd been paying attention. If I'd been paying attention. Sandburg's a fucking puppy. I knew. I fucking knew."
Simon sighed and didn't say anything.
Jim ducked his head, clenched his free hand into a fist, and did some deep breathing exercises to keep himself from exploding all over the place like a frag grenade.
Simon stuck a cigar in his mouth, but didn't light it. "I hear you."
Goddamned Sandburgs giving everyone new age hippy cooties.
Simon looked around. "Let's do this thing. We'll figure it out as we go along."
Once inside the library, Jim found the woman who had to be Travers immediately. She was standing near a rack full of newspapers, half hiding herself and watching the entrance nervously. Simon was looking around, wearing his best, congenial expression. Jim watched her. She watched him.
"I'm going to go sit at that table in the corner," Jim said. "Let her approach me. I'll wave you over if I need help."
He didn't stick around for a reply. Instead, he waggled the file and tilted his head toward the table, sitting off by itself in a corner between a bank of windows and the stacks. She looked that way, then back at him, frowning. He headed there, took his wallet out and sat down. He flipped open the badge and placed it on the table next to the file.
She edged her way over and inspected the badge. "Detective Ellison."
"Miss Travers."
Her frown deepened. "How did you know it was me?"
"Your heart was the only one beating like crazy."
She looked at him, open-mouthed, her fingers fluttering to the center of her chest, where her heart was still trying to pound its way out of her ribcage.
He tucked his badge away in his pocket. "Yes, I can still hear your heartbeat."
She narrowed her eyes.
"I know you don't believe me," he said. He could smell it. "And it doesn't matter."
Her back stiffened and her chin came up. "Why not?"
"I'm not your brother." He turned the file, so it would be right side up to her, and flipped open the first page. A picture of a suited Lee Brackett stared up at them both. "His name is Lee Brackett. He's a CIA agent, or was before he went rogue."
"What does he have to do with Josh?"
"He wanted to steal a prototype spy plane to sell to the highest bidder. He used me to do it."
She took the seat across from him and tugged the file closer.
Jim closed his eyes. "The Air Force had the plane in a secret location that was accessible only if you knew a few secret patterns, or if you could sense low electrical impulses on a bridge. It was a really stupid security measure, but Brackett knew about my senses. He'd read Blair Sandburg's work in a few anthropology journals and somehow connected it to me. Figured out that I have heightened senses."
She blinked. "You're claiming that you really are a sentinel. That Mr. Sandburg was right about you."
Jim swallowed the bile in the back of his throat, and stared her down. "Yes."
"But I don't understand, why---"
"Because Lee Brackett isn't the only person out there who would think of using me, and people like me, to do things."
She looked down at the file. "Mr. Sandburg told me about wine tasters and perfume company workers."
"Miss Travers, I can hear your heart beating. On a good day, I can read a newspaper from over a thousand feet away. I can smell traces of substances that dogs miss. There are some parts of our government that aren't very nice. Blair," Jim used a finger to push the file just a bit closer to her, "he did the best he could to protect me." He smiled. "He always thinks the best of humanity, even after three years of riding around with me, solving crimes. All he's ever wanted was to find a sentinel, and to help. People like Brackett, he never really got the idea that they exist."
"But his press conference?"
"It wasn't about protecting me from the Bracketts of the world. It was about getting the press off my back and giving me my privacy."
"Oh." She leaned back in her chair. "And you think Josh might be like you."
"People with auditory hallucinations don't hear things happening in the real world. I'm no shrink, but even I know that."
She was back to frowning, but this time thoughtfully. "When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."
"That's pretty much policework in a nutshell."
"If he can repeat conversations I've had hundreds of feet away, through the walls, it's not possible that it's an auditory hallucination. That means he must be hearing me, somehow."
"Yes."
"I'll take you to see him."
Go to part 006 Clouded Leopard
Go to part 004 Anticipation
To the Sacrificing Isaac index