Fic: Sentinel School
Series: Sentinel School
Title: Sentinel School
Fandoms: Sentinel/due South/NCIS/Magnificent 7/Supernatural (possibly more to come... gods kill me now)
Summary: There's more fallout from the dissertation and subsequent press conference than either Blair or Jim expected.
Author's Notes: This is supposed to be the founding fic for a universe which I do plan to extend at some point. So for the moment it's closed.
Many thanks as always go to Moon, who beta'd and continues to convince me to run with spur of the moment ideas.
Jim closes the door behind him with a sigh. Already the scent of his Guide is filtering in and calming him. He picks up the heartbeat and steady breathing long before he’s turned from hanging his jacket up to see Blair perched on the edge of the couch staring at nothing in particular.
“Chief?” he asks worriedly, taking several steps forward. “What’s wrong?” Already he’s looking Blair over for any injuries and scanning the loft for any signs of disturbance.
Blair turns to look at Jim before smiling weakly and pointing to the blinking light of the answering machine. Jim presses the play button with a sinking sense of uneasiness.
“I have this friend,” a man’s voice begins in a hushed tone. In the background Jim can hear the familiar sound of a police bullpen, “… he licks things. And that didn’t sound at all how I wanted it to.” Jim looks at Blair who can only shrug helplessly. “He can pick up things, clues, leads, you know, from the littlest bit of evidence. I was just wondering with this whole sense thing -” He stops abruptly and, though the man is obviously attempting to muffle the phone with his hand, Jim can hear another man call “Ray” to which the first responds “be with you in a minute, Fraser”. “I’ll call back later,” the man says into the phone before disconnecting the call.
“Are all of them like this?” Jim asks. Blair simply gestures to the answering machine and Jim waits for the next message.
“Hi, my name’s Abby. I saw you on TV, and I read your dissertation on the internet,” a young woman begins. In the background Jim can hear the hum of a great deal of electrical equipment, but it’s overlaid by music loud enough that even Blair can hear it clearly. Jim casts a glance at Blair and sees him nod in return. They’re going to have to find the online source of the dissertation. “Anyway, I just think it’s so cool. I’d give up my coffin for enhanced hearing or sight… no no no… definitely taste. That’d be so much fun.” Jim looks at Blair incredulously at the mention of a coffin but the other man still seems shocked, even though he’s already heard the message. “Anyway, I’ve got this friend. He’s sort of like an endearingly annoying older brother actually. He’s got 20/10 vision, at least, and I know his sense of hearing and smell are pretty good too. I don’t know about taste and touch but he is awfully tactile. Of course, that could just be because his parents suck, but that’s totally irrelevant I’m sure. I’m pretty sure Gibbs is his Guide too, from what I’ve read, which he definitely won’t be happy about, but he’s Gibbs, I don’t think happy is a state he’s comfortable with.” There’s a beep and the young woman hums distractedly for a moment. “Results just came in and Gibbs doesn’t do well with the whole patience thing either, so I should probably give you my number,” she says and rattles off the details so fast Jim almost doesn’t catch all of it. Blair mutely hands him a piece of paper with the number written down. “Bye,” she says cheerfully before disconnecting. Jim feels inexplicably old.
“I don’t think we kept the secret too well,” Blair mutters into the silence. Jim shakes his head.
“Apparently not,” Jim replies and he moves forward to pick up the phone and call Simon so they can fix this somehow. Blair simply shakes his head.
“There’s more.”
“Good afternoon Mr Sandburg and Mr Ellison. It is unfortunate that I must impose on you in such a fashion, but I feel that it is necessary that I do so,” a man says, his Southern accent obvious. Jim can hear no distinctive background sounds and he can only imagine that this man has taken precautions against his abilities. “I must begin by saying that I cannot doubt the veracity of Mr Sandburg’s dissertation despite the ensuing press conference. I have recently been afforded the opportunity to experience firsthand the lengths to which friends will go for one another and I must commend you for your courage and loyalty, Mr Sandburg. It is undeniably unfortunate that the nature of my call must be more than simple praise, but I have a more pressing concern. A colleague of mine has exhibited many of the symptoms described in your dissertation and I find myself apprehensive about his wellbeing. I feel he, and indeed our entire team, could only benefit from your input in this regard. Thank you for your consideration on this matter.” He finishes by carefully enunciating both a cell number and an email address but Jim gets the feeling that they won’t be able trace either directly back to the man.
“Is he on the level?” Blair asks and Jim nods. It may be possible to control your surroundings but it’s far more difficult to control your own body and Jim’s been checking all the callers’ heartbeats for any sign of deception. They wait in silence for the next message.
“Er, um, hi,” a young man stammers. The voice echoes like he’s in a small space, maybe a bathroom, which seems logical since Jim can also hear running water. Too much to be a tap but maybe enough to be a shower if the water pressure wasn’t all that good. “I found your dissertation on the net and I’m really sorry about calling like this.” Jim and Blair share a look and Jim’s even more sure that they need to deal with this online distribution of Blair’s paper. “Look, my brother Dean, my name’s Sam by the way, anyway I’ve been noticing things recently since I’ve met up with him again. His senses seem to be better. Nothing extraordinary, just a step or two above what he had before, you know. I was wondering if that had to do with not having a Guide. I mean, he doesn’t seem to realise what he’s doing most of the time, so I thought it might be because he just accepts it, you know, he doesn’t fight it. I think it’s because he sees it as just one more weapon to help with hu… with what we do. There’s nothing wrong specifically, I just want to know what the probability is that he might zone and what’ll work best if he does. If you have any suggestions please call me,” he says before giving his cell phone number. He pauses, as though he wants to add something then hangs up.
“What are we gonna do, man?” Blair asks, looking so tired and worn that Jim is forced to realise it’s been a while since he’s seen his Guide truly relaxed and happy.
“Open a Sentinel school?” Jim suggests, just to bring forth a smile, but then he sees the four spirit animals sitting in the open space in front of the door to the balcony. The first is a wolf, more white and grey in its fur than Blair’s and Jim is sure that there’s Husky in there somewhere too. Its intelligent and watchful gaze is almost unnerving. The second is a cheetah, all taut muscle and streamlined curves. It looks lazy and unconcerned enough at the moment, but Jim knows that that could change in an instant. The third is a mountain lion, more dusky grey than sandy yellow. Jim is certain that this creature is used to sticking to the shadows as it stalks its prey before pouncing without warning. The last is a coyote, almost too thin and covered in fading scars, with its tongue lolling to one side. He’s not entirely sure why a coyote is a spirit guide, but he’s guessing that Blair could explain it.
He wonders if he’s just sealed his fate.
Title: Sentinel School
Fandoms: Sentinel/due South/NCIS/Magnificent 7/Supernatural (possibly more to come... gods kill me now)
Summary: There's more fallout from the dissertation and subsequent press conference than either Blair or Jim expected.
Author's Notes: This is supposed to be the founding fic for a universe which I do plan to extend at some point. So for the moment it's closed.
Many thanks as always go to Moon, who beta'd and continues to convince me to run with spur of the moment ideas.
Jim closes the door behind him with a sigh. Already the scent of his Guide is filtering in and calming him. He picks up the heartbeat and steady breathing long before he’s turned from hanging his jacket up to see Blair perched on the edge of the couch staring at nothing in particular.
“Chief?” he asks worriedly, taking several steps forward. “What’s wrong?” Already he’s looking Blair over for any injuries and scanning the loft for any signs of disturbance.
Blair turns to look at Jim before smiling weakly and pointing to the blinking light of the answering machine. Jim presses the play button with a sinking sense of uneasiness.
“I have this friend,” a man’s voice begins in a hushed tone. In the background Jim can hear the familiar sound of a police bullpen, “… he licks things. And that didn’t sound at all how I wanted it to.” Jim looks at Blair who can only shrug helplessly. “He can pick up things, clues, leads, you know, from the littlest bit of evidence. I was just wondering with this whole sense thing -” He stops abruptly and, though the man is obviously attempting to muffle the phone with his hand, Jim can hear another man call “Ray” to which the first responds “be with you in a minute, Fraser”. “I’ll call back later,” the man says into the phone before disconnecting the call.
“Are all of them like this?” Jim asks. Blair simply gestures to the answering machine and Jim waits for the next message.
“Hi, my name’s Abby. I saw you on TV, and I read your dissertation on the internet,” a young woman begins. In the background Jim can hear the hum of a great deal of electrical equipment, but it’s overlaid by music loud enough that even Blair can hear it clearly. Jim casts a glance at Blair and sees him nod in return. They’re going to have to find the online source of the dissertation. “Anyway, I just think it’s so cool. I’d give up my coffin for enhanced hearing or sight… no no no… definitely taste. That’d be so much fun.” Jim looks at Blair incredulously at the mention of a coffin but the other man still seems shocked, even though he’s already heard the message. “Anyway, I’ve got this friend. He’s sort of like an endearingly annoying older brother actually. He’s got 20/10 vision, at least, and I know his sense of hearing and smell are pretty good too. I don’t know about taste and touch but he is awfully tactile. Of course, that could just be because his parents suck, but that’s totally irrelevant I’m sure. I’m pretty sure Gibbs is his Guide too, from what I’ve read, which he definitely won’t be happy about, but he’s Gibbs, I don’t think happy is a state he’s comfortable with.” There’s a beep and the young woman hums distractedly for a moment. “Results just came in and Gibbs doesn’t do well with the whole patience thing either, so I should probably give you my number,” she says and rattles off the details so fast Jim almost doesn’t catch all of it. Blair mutely hands him a piece of paper with the number written down. “Bye,” she says cheerfully before disconnecting. Jim feels inexplicably old.
“I don’t think we kept the secret too well,” Blair mutters into the silence. Jim shakes his head.
“Apparently not,” Jim replies and he moves forward to pick up the phone and call Simon so they can fix this somehow. Blair simply shakes his head.
“There’s more.”
“Good afternoon Mr Sandburg and Mr Ellison. It is unfortunate that I must impose on you in such a fashion, but I feel that it is necessary that I do so,” a man says, his Southern accent obvious. Jim can hear no distinctive background sounds and he can only imagine that this man has taken precautions against his abilities. “I must begin by saying that I cannot doubt the veracity of Mr Sandburg’s dissertation despite the ensuing press conference. I have recently been afforded the opportunity to experience firsthand the lengths to which friends will go for one another and I must commend you for your courage and loyalty, Mr Sandburg. It is undeniably unfortunate that the nature of my call must be more than simple praise, but I have a more pressing concern. A colleague of mine has exhibited many of the symptoms described in your dissertation and I find myself apprehensive about his wellbeing. I feel he, and indeed our entire team, could only benefit from your input in this regard. Thank you for your consideration on this matter.” He finishes by carefully enunciating both a cell number and an email address but Jim gets the feeling that they won’t be able trace either directly back to the man.
“Is he on the level?” Blair asks and Jim nods. It may be possible to control your surroundings but it’s far more difficult to control your own body and Jim’s been checking all the callers’ heartbeats for any sign of deception. They wait in silence for the next message.
“Er, um, hi,” a young man stammers. The voice echoes like he’s in a small space, maybe a bathroom, which seems logical since Jim can also hear running water. Too much to be a tap but maybe enough to be a shower if the water pressure wasn’t all that good. “I found your dissertation on the net and I’m really sorry about calling like this.” Jim and Blair share a look and Jim’s even more sure that they need to deal with this online distribution of Blair’s paper. “Look, my brother Dean, my name’s Sam by the way, anyway I’ve been noticing things recently since I’ve met up with him again. His senses seem to be better. Nothing extraordinary, just a step or two above what he had before, you know. I was wondering if that had to do with not having a Guide. I mean, he doesn’t seem to realise what he’s doing most of the time, so I thought it might be because he just accepts it, you know, he doesn’t fight it. I think it’s because he sees it as just one more weapon to help with hu… with what we do. There’s nothing wrong specifically, I just want to know what the probability is that he might zone and what’ll work best if he does. If you have any suggestions please call me,” he says before giving his cell phone number. He pauses, as though he wants to add something then hangs up.
“What are we gonna do, man?” Blair asks, looking so tired and worn that Jim is forced to realise it’s been a while since he’s seen his Guide truly relaxed and happy.
“Open a Sentinel school?” Jim suggests, just to bring forth a smile, but then he sees the four spirit animals sitting in the open space in front of the door to the balcony. The first is a wolf, more white and grey in its fur than Blair’s and Jim is sure that there’s Husky in there somewhere too. Its intelligent and watchful gaze is almost unnerving. The second is a cheetah, all taut muscle and streamlined curves. It looks lazy and unconcerned enough at the moment, but Jim knows that that could change in an instant. The third is a mountain lion, more dusky grey than sandy yellow. Jim is certain that this creature is used to sticking to the shadows as it stalks its prey before pouncing without warning. The last is a coyote, almost too thin and covered in fading scars, with its tongue lolling to one side. He’s not entirely sure why a coyote is a spirit guide, but he’s guessing that Blair could explain it.
He wonders if he’s just sealed his fate.