Free Web Hosting Provider - Web Hosting - E-commerce - High Speed Internet - Free Web Page

Note: I've been looking for a resolution that would be the 'truth'. I always felt uneasy at all the lies Jim and Blair would have to tell to make the diss disaster disappear. I'd like to know if you think that this solution might be more 'true' and still allow a future for sentinels and guides.

My thanks to my beta, Jaye Daver. The holes are patched as best as I could. The commas and periods are hopefully where they're supposed to be. All errors left after reconstruction are mine.

Disclaimer: All characters, places, and objects from The Sentinel belong to Pet Fly Productions, UPN, Paramount and the SciFi Channel. No money is being made. No copyright infringement is intended. This story was written by ljc with the love of the show in mind.

Wendy Hawthorne was an ambitious woman, and her nose for news was atwitch. There was a lot more to the story than that weasel Don Haas and the other reporters had been able to come up with. From what she'd observed since her stay in Cascade, Washington, Haas always went for the sensational. She winced a little at her own thoughts. She'd been much like Haas at one time, but she'd changed, and the reasons for that change were in the middle of this mess about a fraudulent dissertation. She knew better. She knew these men, James Ellison, Detective, and Blair Sandburg, B.S., M.A., A.B.D. She knew she was only human so she could be wrong, but she'd bet a year's pay against that.

She needed to do some digging. She was a reporter for True Crime after all. She had resources; contacts that she'd cultivated over the years. But she had a feeling that her best sources were close at hand. Blair had a great many friends at Rainier. She'd start with them.

It had taken a few months but the effort was worth it. Wendy wished that she'd actually been able to bet that year's pay with her boss, because this story wasn't tabloid material. This was going to give her career a big boost ... and hopefully right a terrible wrong.

Wendy tried to calm her nerves. She hated to approach them this way but she had her reasons and it wasn't just for her byline. She and her camera man rushed across the sidewalk outside 852 Prospect. Her quarry was unsuspecting and was therefore cornered before he realized he was the subject of a tenacious reporter.

“Detective Ellison ... Wendy Hawthorne reporting for True Crime. I have a few questions to ask in relation to the fraud claim against Blair Sandburg.” She could see his dismay. He'd obviously thought that the repercussions from Blair's press conference were diminishing. She regretted Jim's reaction but she wanted, needed, natural responses. They couldn't afford for this to look phony.

Jim paled and grit his teeth while trying to maneuver around her, “No comment. That's old news, Ms. Hawthorne. I'd have thought you'd have moved on to new topics by now.” Muttering in disgust, “Can't you just leave this alone Wendy? Do us a favor and let it be.”

Wendy barely kept from being walked over by the big detective, but only by giving up a step, and that's as far as she'd go. She had to get Jim to listen. “Perhaps you'd be interested to hear some new information from my sources, Detective Ellison.” Quickly lowering her microphone and moving into his personal space she whispered sentinel soft, “This is important, Jim. If you don't like where I'm going with this then ... I'll give you the right to suppress this part of the story. This is only on film, not live. It's all up to you. You did me a favor once, I'm trying to repay it. Trust me.”

Jim's breath was labored as he thought through her proposal. “Your word, Wendy?” At her nod, he thought, //She knows! I must be crazy.//

Wendy smiled triumphantly, “Detective Ellison, as you know, I'm an investigative reporter. Mr. Sandburg's emotionally charged admission of fraud several months ago left many unanswered questions. It didn't seem reasonable that an institution with the reputation of Rainier University would allow a grad student to continue a fraudulent study for almost nine years. That would go against all their stated ethical and academic principles. It would seem to be a gross case of negligence if that premise was in fact true. When I began my investigation I interviewed several tenured professors on the faculty that suggested that there had been a lack of academic due process. These accusations seemed to fade away quickly. My sources maintain that there was undue pressure from Chancellor Edwards.”

“I also had questions about Sid Graham's actions. Why would Berkshire Publishing release excerpts from a grad student's thesis without a contract? Those releases would in effect increase the worth of Mr. Sandburg's literary property and yet they had no recourse to garner profits from their actions on his behalf. All in all, it seems a strange way to do business. Don't you agree?”

Jim Ellison was beginning to be interested, “Ah, you've brought up some interesting questions, Ms. Hawthorne. Do you have any explanation for their actions?”

“It seems that after his precipitous arrival in Cascade, Mr. Graham was in closed conference with Chancellor Edwards. I have in my possession copies of memos from Mr. Graham to Berkshire Publishing stating that the University would be very grateful for any influence they could exert on the members of the Nobel Prize Committee.”

“I've done my homework, Detective Ellison,” Wendy grinned evilly. “These accusations alone would be seen as unethical and they were reason enough to investigate further into the Chancellor's activities. I discovered evidence of some interesting financial maneuvers that have taken place during the last few years. Did you know that she has arranged for several very large donations to Rainier University? They were funnelled through a foundation of which Chancellor Edwards is the Director. It's taken several months but I've been able to trace some of those 'donations' as coming from the Kada Corporation. Weren't they at the center of one of your cases several years ago?”

“Indeed. During your investigation you discovered that the Kada Corporation was linked to the Yakuza, a Japanese based crime organization.” Wendy was just warming up, “I also traced 'donations' from a corporation based in Santiago, Chile. The local authorities have tied it to a known crime boss, Hector Carasco. This was also one of your cases; one in which Blair Sandburg played a prominent part. It seems that you and Mr. Sandburg might have been a problem for Chancellor Edwards for some time. There was also the conflict over a cheating scandal, corporate spying, and murder involving the son of one of the University's biggest donors, Norman Ventriss.”

Jim looked over Wendy's shoulder. “Ah, Ms. Hawthorne, Wendy. Could we have a moment 'off the record'?”

When Wendy saw Blair approaching she placed a hand on Jim's forearm and nodded to the camera man to stop filming. She leaned in close, “Jim, I have more to say. Just let me say it. Get it on film. Then you, Blair, and I can sit down and discuss this. I'm willing to listen, but this is going to have to come out soon. If any of this gets out we could lose the advantage of surprise. I have the evidence to back up all of the statements I've made about Edwards. It's up to you. I can sit on the information that connects her with the two of you, or we can wrap the noose around the Chancellor's neck and end this disaster.”

She could see Jim consider the matter. She relaxed when he nodded, but knew the hardest part was yet to come. “Detective Ellison, I'm afraid I've monopolized this 'interview' but I do have one question of great importance. The question concerns the thesis, “The Sentinel” by Blair Sandburg. I've done my homework on this too. I've learned through my sources that a felon by the name of Alexandra Barnes died three weeks ago. She had been in a coma since her arrest in Sierra Verde. Before she left Cascade, she came very close to murdering Mr. Sandburg. Did you pursue her out of your jurisdiction only because of her dangerous activities, or did you pursue her because she was a sentinel and therefore extremely dangerous and your police observer is the only sentinel expert in the world? In other words, was Mr. Sandburg's document actually true? Was there a real sentinel?”

Wendy could have jumped for joy. Jim's all-American hero looks and the fire in his eyes couldn't be faked. “You believe so, Detective Ellison. From my investigations, I've come to believe that also.”

Wendy saw Blair walk up slowly to stand shoulder to shoulder with Jim Ellison. She directed the camera to cover Blair, too. She wanted to catch that look on their faces. There was no shame, only the strength of a friendship few are privileged to share. She continued, “Mr. Sandburg, you had hoped that Alexandra Barnes, a sentinel, could be the thesis subject you have searched for for a number of years. But you discovered, too late, that she was a criminal, and she later became mentally incapacitated. She was therefore unable to give her consent to publish any data that you had accumulated. Is that correct?”

“There was no way that I could publish the thesis without the consent of the sentinel.”

“If Ms. Barnes information could be released, would it be possible to finish your dissertation?”

With a genuinely warm smile she asked, “You mentioned in your press conference that you did think the document that had been released without your consent was a good piece of fiction ... is that right?”

“Ms. Hawthorne, your homework is impeccable. I would have to give you a 'A'.”

Wendy smirked, “Many people in our audience are curious, Mr. Sandburg. Your work on your novel has languished I'm sure, since you've been considering joining the police force. Are you willing to give a hint to the date it might be finished? I've been contacted by certain parties at Enigma Publishing House that wished to express their interest in your literary endeavors. The excerpts released by Mr. Graham piqued their interest.”

Wendy grinned at the storm she started. Let that hack, Don Haas, pick up what little pieces he could. She knew the real story.

Blair brushed a loose curl out of his face again without giving it a thought. Habit was hard to break, and he was long used to concentrating on a subject to the exclusion of all mundane things, whether they were a nuisance or not. And brushing curls off his sweaty face while digging in the dirt was definitely a nuisance.

He was startled speechless and it brought a deep chuckle from his longtime friend.

“Right. In the middle of Peru ...” Blair stood and embraced Jim for a long moment, only releasing him to let himself step back, but still clutching his sentinel's arms. “It's so good to see you. I guess I shouldn't be so surprised. I knew you were coming, but you're early! I guess rehab went well ... no? Oh, Jim. Man ...”

“Sandburg, let's get that beer first, okay. I'm not exactly used to tropical heat and I'm going to be here awhile. I promise to tell you the whole story.”

It was late afternoon so Blair was quite willing to call it a day. He introduced Jim to his assistant for the summer and his crew. Then he left his assistant to oversee the dig while he went to get his friend settled in his tent.

Blair watched him surreptitiously to see if the journey had been a strain for his friend but Jim seemed fine if a bit tired. However, that was understandable. It wasn't like he'd ridden over paved highways to get here, although there had been some major improvements, with more planned. He thought longingly of the lodgings to be constructed by the permanent crew this winter. It would be nice to be able to have their families come for extended stays during the summer expeditions. Their wives had been understanding but the kids were growing 'so' fast.

When Jim had settled in he questioned Blair again rather plaintively about that 'cold beer' and Blair was happy that he could oblige him. Refrigeration had been an early addition to the premises. They both lazily settled into camp chairs as the sun slid behind the tops of the trees. They listened in companionable quiet as the stillness of early evening settled over the camp. They both knew it wouldn't last long. The crew would be gathering for the evening meal, and later there would be long hours of cataloging the day's finds and recording their research.

Blair rocked back in his camp chair, unusually hesitant at bringing up the difficult subject that was on his mind. He wanted to know why Jim was here early, but he figured Jim would spill it when he was ready.

“Just waiting for you, Jim,” but he wasn't smiling. He continued, “When I left, you were out of the hospital and doing okay ... I thought. But you weren't, were you?”

Jim sighed dramatically, “I guess I hoped I was. You were there, Chief. You know most of it. The bullet hit my right shoulder. It did a lot of damage. Too much. The doc told us the rehab might do the trick.” He stopped to take a sip then continued sharply, “It helped, I mean I can feed myself and dress without help ....” At Blair's look of distress, Jim softened his tone, “No, Blair, it's not nearly that bad. Sorry. I'm just coping like I usually do, and letting it spill out my mouth ... at you. I'm sorry.”

Jim turned surprisingly warm eyes toward Blair, “Don't be. I could see it coming. I'm too old for that job anyway. I ... am ... physically incapable of performing my duties as a police officer. I retired, on partial disability.”

Blair looked shocked for a moment. Then he looked resigned, “Retired. You had almost twenty years on the force. I'm sorry. It's just that there's so much you can still do.”

“What? Don't tell me you can see me behind a desk! Remember, you're not always there to do my paperwork,” and the old joke fell flat.

“Blair ... I'm not able to act in a legal capacity as a sentinel. Maybe that was my fault all along. Maybe it would have been better to admit it years ago. Instead I let it all fall on you.”

“No. We did the right thing then. We made a difference, you with your work, and me with my mine. It was worth it.”

Jim couldn't speak for a moment. He would always regret that his guide had had to fight so hard to earn the respect of his peers. It had taken time, but it 'was' worth it.

Blair's assistant arrived to drag him away after supper to help translate a difficult piece of writing. The Temple of the Sentinels loomed in the distance, not that far from the camp. It was well within sight for a sentinel, but Jim's eye was taken by a set of leather bound books on Blair's desk. He always kept a copy of his thesis with him ... and the sequels. Jim often wondered how Blair really felt about the thesis, knowing that his sentinel was not the subject as he should have been.

Jim picked up the first volume and thumbed through it haphazardly. He'd read his own copy of course, many times, but he hadn't admitted that to Blair. He stopped at one page, listing the female sentinel's sensory spikes and her symptoms that included devastating headaches. Farther in, he stopped to read about speculations on her artistic ability and its link to her visions. He stopped to gaze at the Temple again when he came to the section about her catatonic state being the result of sensory overload with no companion to guide her to a safe course.

Jim knew he'd been very lucky. His guide had risked his own life to follow him to Sierra Verde, to guide his course. And Jim had pulled back in time, had remained sane, not just because Blair was nearby, but because he had been the guide his sentinel needed.

Blair watched his sentinel patrol the perimeter of the Temple grounds. Knowing that Jim was processing, he took a moment to assess the improvements that they'd made in the last few years. The area around the camp had been cleared of the heavier vegetation. Tents stood in rows, while sturdier shelters protected the food preparation and artifact storage areas. They had adequate communications.

The Temple itself had been cleared of vegetation. The whole area had been digitally recorded. Satellite photos had been taken. Those records were worked on during the fall and spring semesters when he returned to Cascade to teach a little, continue his research, and to consult and 'ridealong' with Jim. And of course, his search for full sentinels continued.

Blair's research had flourished, beginning with training programs for the partial sentinels that he had found while researching his Master's thesis. He'd discovered, at Jim's suggestion, that finding a guide for the partial sentinels increased the range of their gift. During the last ten years several full sentinels had arrived on his 'doorstep' looking for their 'guide', and hoping for the protection that public acknowledgement could afford them. Blair often regretted that Jim had never enjoyed the acceptance that the other sentinels did.

Jim and Blair had not revealed their own sentinel/guide partnership. They probably could never go public with their secret. Blair's research was well established now, but it would take years of legal wrangling to verify their earlier police work. The thought that some criminals might be released was too upsetting and would be a danger to the public. They had talked and decided that it was too much to risk, at this time.

The expeditions during the summer semesters went slowly and methodically, and included scientists from varied disciplines. Digs were continuing in the area surrounding the Temple, while the Temple itself was studied, restored where necessary, and studied some more. It was painstaking work, and Blair loved every minute of it.

Next year, with more permanent year round shelters available, they planned to take more time to investigate the local tribes. There had been contact right from the beginning, but field work would be stepped up and could be continuous. Blair hadn't told Jim yet that he had planned on visiting the Chopec for a more extended stay next summer. He still had a lot to learn from their shaman. He had expected that Jim would go with him during his vacation. How would that fit in with Jim's plans for the future?

Jim often joined in the work when he arrived for several weeks of vacation each summer. He seemed at home in this place as much as in Cascade. Blair often wondered about that. Jim had been lost here and had lived with the Chopec tribe for eighteen months, but still, being here in Peru seemed to have no ill effects on his temperament ... the opposite, in fact. Blair had talked to Simon about it and his opinion was that Jim was simply comfortable being near Blair. Whatever the cause, he hoped that during this visit Jim would find peace within himself once again.

Jim and Blair had just exited the section of the Temple that everyone simply called Room of Pools. Much of Blair's research had centered here, although his published works dealt with translations, art, architecture, and the physical/forensic anthropology that Blair had explored in more depth since the expeditions were begun.

Blair had the time and the money for his research now. He had the respect of his peers and of society in general. His expeditions were funded in perpetuity by the Rainier Foundation for Sentinel Research that Eli Stoddard co-directed and which was financially supported by various wealthy alumni, William and Steven Ellison among them. It had been quite a coup for Rainier to reestablish their academic reputation and to have groundbreaking research being done by their own Dr. Sandburg, a Nobel Prize Winning Doctor of Anthropology.

“I don't know. It's just going to be ... different, you know ... now. You won't be riding along anymore. At least with me. Are you still going to consult?”

“What?” Blair asked with a grin. “Do you want to ride along with the consultant? Is that what you've been trying to work up to?”

Jim grinned back, “I thought that it might be time to follow the guide for a while. I won't be a cop, but you know I can ... help.”

“Help. Come on man, you're the sentinel. You do more than help. But I don't know ... will you stay in the Volvo when I tell you to?” Blair asked, trying to keep a grin off his face.

But Jim grew serious as he replied, “I know how important it is to have backup you can trust. I don't want you out there ... alone.”

“Right. Only because it's ten years older. Uh, I have a suggestion for the summer expeditions, too. I was wondering if you had room for a second or third assistant here on the dig.”

“Well, I know a little about this 'sentinel stuff'. I could be useful to have around.”