FIC: Cop Talk (TS PG gen)
Title: Cop Talk
Fandom: The Sentinel
Rating: PG (mild language) gen
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Murder 101 missing scenes
A while back, I wrote a smarmy companion story to 'Sentinel 101', Keeping Up With Jim. This story covers the same ground from Jim's POV, but should make sense on its own.
Written as SentinelAngst dues.
Cop Talk
By Helen W.
Honestly, how often did a guy get to leap out of a helicopter onto a speeding motorboat?
And the amazing thing was, it had worked (despite Brad Ventriss' go at getting himself a second charge of murder one); and, moments after jumping, Jim had Suzanne and the poor sap of a motorboat operator in loose custody. It took a few more minutes to circle the boat around and locate Brad Ventriss, who'd somehow managed not to drown himself (more's the pity). And - what the hell was Sandburg doing in the water??
Pulling Brad out of the lake and cuffing him to the motorboat operator was pretty straight-forward. Brad had had all the fight washed out of him, and the other man had presumably done the math and realized that the only way to avoid a lengthy prison sentence was to claim he'd had no idea that Brad and Suzanne had been fleeing murder chargers, nor had any clue who or what Jim had been at first.
Getting Blair out of the water was a bit more work, made slower because Jim still had to keep most of his attention on Brad. For one terrifying moment it seemed that Blair's forearms weren't going to be able to support his weight, but on his second try Jim was able to lift him out of the water and into the rear of the boat, where Blair landed in a rough heap at the feet of their three captives.
Jim hissed, "You touch him, you're dead men," then went to the bridge deck and radioed Simon, who'd been in contact with the helicopter pilot (still overhead, though Jim had completely blocked it out). Simon’d been busy, and was able to tell Jim where they were, and where to go to meet the local PD.
And, lookee, the boat even had a GPS system! Jim's lucky day.
Twenty minutes later, Jim’d found where Simon had directed him - a public fishing/boating peer, empty on an off-season weekday except for two local cruisers and a state trooper who must have been nearby aleady.
Plenty of personnel meant that getting Brad, Suzanne, and the motorboat operator ashore, properly cuffed, and off to lockup, went smoothly. That left the matter of Sandburg, now shivering under a blanket and looking - well, about as pathetic as Jim had ever seen him, which was saying something.
The state trooper had already officially checked Sandburg out and proclaimed him "Mildly hypothermic - you sure your officer here didn't start out concussed?" and Jim'd realized that he hadn't even considered the possibility. And - officer? Was that really how Sandburg read, even like this?
Maybe especially like this, with all that usually made Sandburg Sandburg mostly absent.
Jim hunched down next to Blair, realizing the idiot was still fully clothed and sitting in a friggin' puddle. Was he in worse shape than Jim'd been led to believe?
But Blair's eyes were clear when he asked, "You trust the locals with Brad?"
"The local PD? Sure, I know the sergeant, they're a good department. They can hold our friends for a few hours. Trust me, they rescue kittens with better left hooks than Brad Ventriss," Jim said.
"But his dad's influence…"
"His dad, and Suzanne's, have legal troubles of their own. I just talked to Simon, they're being booked right now."
He sighed, wondering how much to go into things. "Four times out of five it's harder to buy a small town than a large one, if you're an outsider - everyone knows everyone, and the mayor doesn't give a hoot who the PD pisses off as long as they're not one of his constituents. MIGHT get scared of large legal bills, but they have insurance for that sort of thing."
He paused. The best thing to do would be to get everything wet off Blair, unless they were moving right away. "Simon's on his way. You want to wait here, or take another ride in the chopper? The pilot says he can land."
"No... no more flying," said Blair.
Jim quickly relayed this to the pilot, then was finally able to focus fully on getting Blair warm and dry. With minimal help from Blair, Jim stripped him completely and got him onto the bench, then swapped out wet blankets for dry ones the still-present state trooper helpfully provided.
And - hell, that just wasn't good enough. Let the state guy think what he wanted. Jim shoved Blair over a few inches, then claimed the corner for himself and pulled Blair back against him.
"Good idea," commented the trooper as he passed over what looked to be the last of his blanket stash, and Jim felt like an idiot for giving a damn what he might have thought in the first place. What was wrong with him?
Blair turned his face into Jim, the first sign the kid had shown of not being completely (if passively) pissed at him; a wave of gratitude and affection washed over Jim, and he pulled Blair closer.
“’Sokay, chief, just relax,” he said, “You’ll be warm in a minute.”
At that, Blair snorted, and Jim felt a relieved chuckle rising. “I'm sorry I left you in the lake so long,” he said. “I should have pulled you out first, let that piece of shit fend for himself."
Tucked against him, Blair moved a little, and Jim couldn’t tell whether he was nodding, shaking his head, or just trying to get more comfortable. When’d it get so hard to read him?
"Why'd this get so hard?” he was surprised to hear himself actually voice. “I used to be able to trust my instincts, but since Alex they're shot to hell.”
Blair twisted a little more at Alex’s name; stupid, stupid, he shouldn’t have mentioned her! “Sorry I’m making such a hash of things,” he said. “I seem to be doing the exact opposite of what my instincts tell me, and that’s not working either.”
It was as much of an apology as Jim knew how to make, he realized; would it be good enough? Could it be?
But Blair was now squeezing his hand, beneath the blanket. “Don't worry," he said, "I can keep up with you."
Was that weighing on Blair’s mind? Did Blair think he as the screw-up here? Jim had to laugh a little at that. "Yeah, I think you can," said Jim.
Finally Simon, with Joel riding shotgun, pulled up, followed closely by another three state cars. Late for the party; there was a conference between the Cascade men and the state troopers, and two of the cars spend off, to where Jim didn’t give a damn.
“We have an audience?” Blair murmured mid-conference; “An inattentive one,” Jim answered. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Do I look like I’m worrying?” Blair asked. “Is this my worrying face?”
“Can’t tell. Bad angle”
“Well, it’s not,” said Blair. He coughed. “I should really shut up.”
“No, you’re doing fine,” said Jim. “Getting warmer?” Blair was still shivering, but he no longer felt painfully cold in Jim’s arms.
Whatever Blair was going to answer was cut off by Simon’s booming, “We’re done here. Sure you don’t want an ambulance for Sandburg?”
“He’s been checked out,” Jim called back. “He just needs to be warm and dry.”
Getting Blair up and moving was awkward as hell; but they managed to get him onto the dock without him taking another dip.
Simon and Joel both seemed to expect Jim and Blair to claim the back seat, and helped Blair angle himself in so that he was again leaning up against Jim.
“Good thing you’re such a warm guy,” Simon commented as he pulled out from between two state cars.
“Yeah, goes with your sunny disposition,” said Joel.
“Don’t forget his dry wit,” Blair murmured.
It wasn’t much of a punfest, but it was something, and Jim felt himself relax; Blair seemed to be doing the same, and was asleep a moment later.
At the look Simon shot him via the rear view mirror, Jim said, “I don’t think he’s been sleeping - all the mess with school really got to him. I think the lake was the last straw.”
“You didn’t mention Sandburg fell into the water,” Simon said. “How’d it happen?”
“Fall? He jumped out of the chopper.”
“The hell?” said Joel. “Our boy did that?”
“You told me you jumped,” said Simon.
“Yeah, I got onto the boat, then Brad tried to swim for it and Blair made sure he didn’t.”
“From the helicopter.”
“Yeah, how else?”
“Man, Jim, you are one tough act to follow, but Blair did it,” said Joel. “You saying he made the collar?”
“He made the collar,” said Jim.
“Damn.”
“He was motivated.”
“Yeah,” said Simon, “about that. Think we can get him to join up?”
“Join up?”
“Join the PD.”
“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that,” said Jim. “There’s no way Rainier won’t want to sweep this whole thing under the rug.”
“But if it doesn’t - or if Blair decides he’s enough of their garbage - I want him on the force,” said Simon. “I’m serious, Jim. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold his attention, how long it’ll be before he realizes he wants to be a lawyer or get an MBA or do whatever it is the bright kids do these days, but in the meantime I want him.”
“To keep watching my back?”
“When needed. But, no, Jim, I want him for him. I mean, how many guys will leap out of a helicopter?”
“Well, um… I had to hit a moving target when I jumped.”
“But the kid made the collar.”
“He has a point, Jim,” said Joel.
“But…” Earlier, he’d been furious with Blair for overinvolvement. It blinded you to things; it led to tainted evidence; and it got you beat up.
It also motivated you to jump out of perfectly good helicopters.
Against his chest, Blair stirred and coughed a little. Again. Was he catching a cold? Would it just be a cold?
Or had Blair’s dip in the lake rekindled something from his near-drowning?
And if Jim was this worried about Blair now, how the hell would his nerves survive Blair running around with a gun and a badge, perhaps without him?
“Give up, Ellison, this isn’t about you,” said Simon.
And to that, Jim had no response.
* * * THE END * * *
Fandom: The Sentinel
Rating: PG (mild language) gen
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Murder 101 missing scenes
A while back, I wrote a smarmy companion story to 'Sentinel 101', Keeping Up With Jim. This story covers the same ground from Jim's POV, but should make sense on its own.
Written as SentinelAngst dues.
Cop Talk
By Helen W.
Honestly, how often did a guy get to leap out of a helicopter onto a speeding motorboat?
And the amazing thing was, it had worked (despite Brad Ventriss' go at getting himself a second charge of murder one); and, moments after jumping, Jim had Suzanne and the poor sap of a motorboat operator in loose custody. It took a few more minutes to circle the boat around and locate Brad Ventriss, who'd somehow managed not to drown himself (more's the pity). And - what the hell was Sandburg doing in the water??
Pulling Brad out of the lake and cuffing him to the motorboat operator was pretty straight-forward. Brad had had all the fight washed out of him, and the other man had presumably done the math and realized that the only way to avoid a lengthy prison sentence was to claim he'd had no idea that Brad and Suzanne had been fleeing murder chargers, nor had any clue who or what Jim had been at first.
Getting Blair out of the water was a bit more work, made slower because Jim still had to keep most of his attention on Brad. For one terrifying moment it seemed that Blair's forearms weren't going to be able to support his weight, but on his second try Jim was able to lift him out of the water and into the rear of the boat, where Blair landed in a rough heap at the feet of their three captives.
Jim hissed, "You touch him, you're dead men," then went to the bridge deck and radioed Simon, who'd been in contact with the helicopter pilot (still overhead, though Jim had completely blocked it out). Simon’d been busy, and was able to tell Jim where they were, and where to go to meet the local PD.
And, lookee, the boat even had a GPS system! Jim's lucky day.
Twenty minutes later, Jim’d found where Simon had directed him - a public fishing/boating peer, empty on an off-season weekday except for two local cruisers and a state trooper who must have been nearby aleady.
Plenty of personnel meant that getting Brad, Suzanne, and the motorboat operator ashore, properly cuffed, and off to lockup, went smoothly. That left the matter of Sandburg, now shivering under a blanket and looking - well, about as pathetic as Jim had ever seen him, which was saying something.
The state trooper had already officially checked Sandburg out and proclaimed him "Mildly hypothermic - you sure your officer here didn't start out concussed?" and Jim'd realized that he hadn't even considered the possibility. And - officer? Was that really how Sandburg read, even like this?
Maybe especially like this, with all that usually made Sandburg Sandburg mostly absent.
Jim hunched down next to Blair, realizing the idiot was still fully clothed and sitting in a friggin' puddle. Was he in worse shape than Jim'd been led to believe?
But Blair's eyes were clear when he asked, "You trust the locals with Brad?"
"The local PD? Sure, I know the sergeant, they're a good department. They can hold our friends for a few hours. Trust me, they rescue kittens with better left hooks than Brad Ventriss," Jim said.
"But his dad's influence…"
"His dad, and Suzanne's, have legal troubles of their own. I just talked to Simon, they're being booked right now."
He sighed, wondering how much to go into things. "Four times out of five it's harder to buy a small town than a large one, if you're an outsider - everyone knows everyone, and the mayor doesn't give a hoot who the PD pisses off as long as they're not one of his constituents. MIGHT get scared of large legal bills, but they have insurance for that sort of thing."
He paused. The best thing to do would be to get everything wet off Blair, unless they were moving right away. "Simon's on his way. You want to wait here, or take another ride in the chopper? The pilot says he can land."
"No... no more flying," said Blair.
Jim quickly relayed this to the pilot, then was finally able to focus fully on getting Blair warm and dry. With minimal help from Blair, Jim stripped him completely and got him onto the bench, then swapped out wet blankets for dry ones the still-present state trooper helpfully provided.
And - hell, that just wasn't good enough. Let the state guy think what he wanted. Jim shoved Blair over a few inches, then claimed the corner for himself and pulled Blair back against him.
"Good idea," commented the trooper as he passed over what looked to be the last of his blanket stash, and Jim felt like an idiot for giving a damn what he might have thought in the first place. What was wrong with him?
Blair turned his face into Jim, the first sign the kid had shown of not being completely (if passively) pissed at him; a wave of gratitude and affection washed over Jim, and he pulled Blair closer.
“’Sokay, chief, just relax,” he said, “You’ll be warm in a minute.”
At that, Blair snorted, and Jim felt a relieved chuckle rising. “I'm sorry I left you in the lake so long,” he said. “I should have pulled you out first, let that piece of shit fend for himself."
Tucked against him, Blair moved a little, and Jim couldn’t tell whether he was nodding, shaking his head, or just trying to get more comfortable. When’d it get so hard to read him?
"Why'd this get so hard?” he was surprised to hear himself actually voice. “I used to be able to trust my instincts, but since Alex they're shot to hell.”
Blair twisted a little more at Alex’s name; stupid, stupid, he shouldn’t have mentioned her! “Sorry I’m making such a hash of things,” he said. “I seem to be doing the exact opposite of what my instincts tell me, and that’s not working either.”
It was as much of an apology as Jim knew how to make, he realized; would it be good enough? Could it be?
But Blair was now squeezing his hand, beneath the blanket. “Don't worry," he said, "I can keep up with you."
Was that weighing on Blair’s mind? Did Blair think he as the screw-up here? Jim had to laugh a little at that. "Yeah, I think you can," said Jim.
Finally Simon, with Joel riding shotgun, pulled up, followed closely by another three state cars. Late for the party; there was a conference between the Cascade men and the state troopers, and two of the cars spend off, to where Jim didn’t give a damn.
“We have an audience?” Blair murmured mid-conference; “An inattentive one,” Jim answered. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Do I look like I’m worrying?” Blair asked. “Is this my worrying face?”
“Can’t tell. Bad angle”
“Well, it’s not,” said Blair. He coughed. “I should really shut up.”
“No, you’re doing fine,” said Jim. “Getting warmer?” Blair was still shivering, but he no longer felt painfully cold in Jim’s arms.
Whatever Blair was going to answer was cut off by Simon’s booming, “We’re done here. Sure you don’t want an ambulance for Sandburg?”
“He’s been checked out,” Jim called back. “He just needs to be warm and dry.”
Getting Blair up and moving was awkward as hell; but they managed to get him onto the dock without him taking another dip.
Simon and Joel both seemed to expect Jim and Blair to claim the back seat, and helped Blair angle himself in so that he was again leaning up against Jim.
“Good thing you’re such a warm guy,” Simon commented as he pulled out from between two state cars.
“Yeah, goes with your sunny disposition,” said Joel.
“Don’t forget his dry wit,” Blair murmured.
It wasn’t much of a punfest, but it was something, and Jim felt himself relax; Blair seemed to be doing the same, and was asleep a moment later.
At the look Simon shot him via the rear view mirror, Jim said, “I don’t think he’s been sleeping - all the mess with school really got to him. I think the lake was the last straw.”
“You didn’t mention Sandburg fell into the water,” Simon said. “How’d it happen?”
“Fall? He jumped out of the chopper.”
“The hell?” said Joel. “Our boy did that?”
“You told me you jumped,” said Simon.
“Yeah, I got onto the boat, then Brad tried to swim for it and Blair made sure he didn’t.”
“From the helicopter.”
“Yeah, how else?”
“Man, Jim, you are one tough act to follow, but Blair did it,” said Joel. “You saying he made the collar?”
“He made the collar,” said Jim.
“Damn.”
“He was motivated.”
“Yeah,” said Simon, “about that. Think we can get him to join up?”
“Join up?”
“Join the PD.”
“I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that,” said Jim. “There’s no way Rainier won’t want to sweep this whole thing under the rug.”
“But if it doesn’t - or if Blair decides he’s enough of their garbage - I want him on the force,” said Simon. “I’m serious, Jim. I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold his attention, how long it’ll be before he realizes he wants to be a lawyer or get an MBA or do whatever it is the bright kids do these days, but in the meantime I want him.”
“To keep watching my back?”
“When needed. But, no, Jim, I want him for him. I mean, how many guys will leap out of a helicopter?”
“Well, um… I had to hit a moving target when I jumped.”
“But the kid made the collar.”
“He has a point, Jim,” said Joel.
“But…” Earlier, he’d been furious with Blair for overinvolvement. It blinded you to things; it led to tainted evidence; and it got you beat up.
It also motivated you to jump out of perfectly good helicopters.
Against his chest, Blair stirred and coughed a little. Again. Was he catching a cold? Would it just be a cold?
Or had Blair’s dip in the lake rekindled something from his near-drowning?
And if Jim was this worried about Blair now, how the hell would his nerves survive Blair running around with a gun and a badge, perhaps without him?
“Give up, Ellison, this isn’t about you,” said Simon.
And to that, Jim had no response.
* * * THE END * * *