The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of 
UPN, Paramount and Pet fly Productions. No copyright 
infringement is intended.

This story is the property of the author.

Up on my homepage at 
http://www.geocities.com/SoHo/8868
________

A Blessed Protector's Thoughts on Siege

At the Station


I have spent the last month systematically being proven wrong 
at every step.

Mostly I haven't minded. Considering the circumstances, it's 
been pretty reassuring to learn that I was 
wrong, and that the man in whose hands my sanity, my career 
and my life rest, is not, in fact, a complete 
flake. A little flake, maybe, but in a good way. If I've learned 
anything from Sandburg in the last three and a 
half weeks, senses aside, it's that a little weirdness can't hurt 
you.

But *this...*

Blair Sandburg entered my life for two reasons. One: I needed 
him. Two: He needed a test subject. All in all 
it was a situation that worked out to suit both our needs, even 
if there was a week back there when we each 
thought the other was the most annoying, frustrating, stubborn, 
thick-heading individual on the face of the 
planet. Actually, come to think of it, we probably still feel that 
way. Of course, neither of us is really one to 
talk, and we've learned to get around our mutual stubbornness 
to become more than researcher and science 
project.

Friends, definitely. Probably the first friend, first *real* friend, 
I've had outside law enforcement since I was 
eighteen.

Partners?

It would certainly go a long way toward explaining why I've 
gone to this much trouble to get him partnered 
with me. Lying to Simon is not something I normally do. 
Actually, I don't think it's something I've ever 
done, outside a little stretching of the truth now and then to get 
my way with a case. Something tells me I 
need the kid around, and that even the dangers of riding with 
me aren't pressing enough to keep the two of 
us separated. I got the impression early on that he could handle 
himself. Hell, he proved that when he took 
out the Switchman while I was zoned out looking for that 
bomb.

And *this!*

"A vending machine?" I can't tell if Simon's going to laugh or 
burst a synapse. "A *vending machine?*"

Taggert's leaning against the wall, occasionally glowering at 
the medics who are swarming around him, 
trying to bandage his leg before moving him down to the 
ambulance. "I'm not kidding, Simon. And they said 
he took out another one in the men's room."

Simon shakes his head and turns to me. "Do you know 
anything about this?"

I try to look innocent, a pretty hard feat, if the smile on my 
face is half as wide as it feels. "How could I? I've been with 
you, remember?"

He waves one hand dismissively. "Go  find your partner and 
get the whole story out of him, will you? I can't 
wait to hear this."

Partner?

****

Sandburg's in the break room, his statement being taken by 
Brown. He's leaning against the wall, and for the first time I 
notice how tired he looks. Geez, the kid looks like he's going 
to keel over any second now.

I cross the room to stand beside him, listening as he finishes his 
statement. I'm not sure if I should be proud or furious. On the 
one hand, the lie probably saved his life - by claiming to be my 
partner he probably convinced Kincaid to let him live a while 
longer - on the other hand, he *still* could have been killed, 
very easily. 

Brown finishes up pretty quickly, only asking a few questions 
to clarify things, then making sure Blair knew he may be called 
upon to testify. Then he moves off. Blair gives me a tired smile. 
"Hey, man, you all right?"

"I'm fine, Chief. Come on." I take him by the arm and urge him 
toward the elevator. "You all set here?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"I want to get out of here." Before you crash. "How does stir 
fry sound?"

He sighs. "Like heaven."

"Great. Let's go."

Partner.

Huh. I think I like that.


End




























aldaj@hotmail.com
Katilian@aol.com