The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of Pet 
Fly, Paramount and UPN. No copyright infringement is 
intended and no profit is being made.

This story is the property of the author.

Spoilers for 'Switchman.'

Yes, I know that Blair didn't declare Jim his "Blessed 
Protector" until 'Cypher.' Consider it creative liscence.
________

A Blessed Protector's Thoughts on Switchman



I must be losing my mind.

It's honestly the only explanation I can come up with for what's 
been happening to me lately.

Enhanced senses? I'd suspected that I was going crazy from the 
first time I noticed them. The notion that I have truly lost my 
mind and created this elaborate scheme to explain my dementia 
to my own twsited psyche is completely reasonable. A lot more 
reasonable than this 'Sentinel' thing.

I mean, give me a break.

There's only one problem with that theory. Blair Sandburg.

There is no way that I made this guy up. I'm not *that* crazy. 
No one is. 

The more I think about it, Sandburg is the crazy one. First of 
all, impersonating a doctor is not only illegal, it's probably the 
worst way imaginable to make an impression on someone. 
Especially if that someone is a cop.  And that line about 
"proper Gaelic pronounciation." Oh, for Pete's sake. 

When I first saw him in his office, I should have gone running. 
What kind of academic dresses like that? He looks like a left-
over from Woodstock. And that music? I'm supposed to trust 
my sanity, my career -- God help me, my *life* to some poorly-
dressed *kid* with more hair than my ex-wife and more 
smooth answers than every lawyer in the city?

Apparently, yeah.

We got off to a rocky start. A real rocky start. And it was my 
fault, I can admit that. Mostly. So, yeah, the kid was kind of 
rambling and he wasn't being especially considerate. But he 
was excited. I guess I can sort of understand that. From what 
he said it seems that this Sentinel stuff has been a pretty big 
part of his academic career. And considering the odds of 
actually *finding* a Sentinel, I suppose his enthusiasm was 
understandable. But the caveman crack was still out of line.

And so was I when I threw him against that wall. Damn, that's 
going to bother me for a while, I can tell. I don't usually lose 
control like that. I know my own strngth, and I don't like to use 
it against people without justifiable provocation. My time with 
Covert Ops taught me about 1,000 different ways to kill a man 
and half of them required nothing more than my bare hands. I 
caught myself in time to make sure Sandburg didn't hit the wall 
too hard, and I'm sure I didn't hurt him, but it was enough to 
shake me up a little. That's a big part of why I stormed out of 
there so quickly. Such a loss of control was just another sign 
that something was wrong with me and right then, that was the 
last thing I wanted to face.

The Universe apparently didn't care what I wanted, though 
because I'd barely taken two steps outside when I 'zoned-out.'

It was... unsettling. Calm. Peaceful. Gentle. The first real quiet 
I'd had since these senses started acting up on me. But at the 
same time, as I was falling into it, it was scary, because I had a 
feeling that I could lose myself in it and loss of control is 
something  -- one of the only things -- that scares me.

I didn't know what had happened until until I hit the ground 
and the shock knocked me back to my senses. I was still trying 
to figure out just why Sandburg was holding onto my waist 
when I realized I was lying on the ground. And when I tried to 
process *that* I realized that the rush of air over me was 
actually a rather large truck screeching to a halt. Oh, let me tell 
you *that* was an interesting experience.

Sandburg was coming off a serious adrenaline high when he 
explained what had happened, and he looked so agitated that I 
just started feeling twice as guilty. That's got to be the reason I 
agreed to let him test my senses. The only reason.

I'll say this much, the kid came in handy. He knew what to look 
for at the crime scene. And that tree never would have held my 
weight.

He handled Veronica well too, for all that he *never* should 
have gotten on that bus. Even after I zoned out looking for the 
bomb and left him to deal with Veronica by himself, he 
managed to keep his head. He's a resourceful kid, I'll admit that 
much.

Oh, hell. I like the kid. He knows what he's doing -- so far, at 
least. He's not that obnoxious and I really don't think he means 
to come off sounding high-handed. And he's got this, this 
*energy.* I have a feeling that he's going to be like the 
Energizer Bunny Rabbit. Just keeps on going and going and 
going and going...

 These senses are here to stay, if what Sandburg says is true, 
and I have a feeling it is. So if I'm stuck with these senses then 
I might as well learn to use them, and use them to their fullest. 
Sandburg was right when he said that I was a walking crime 
lab. I can use this Sentinel thing to help my police work, 
maybe catch a few killers and thieves who'd otherwise get 
away. There could be definite advantages to this. And that's not 
even considering the personal side of things.

It's going to be a major event though. This is going to change 
my entire life, no matter what I try to tell myself. This is like 
waking up one morning and findingout you're blind, or deaf or 
paralyzed, only instead of loosing abilities, I've gained new 
ones. I'll have to learn to adapt, and compensate, and learn how 
to avoid those zone-outs if I want to have hope of ever living a 
normal life.

Sandburg was right about something else, too. I'm going to 
need help with this, whether I want it or not. From the look of 
things, it seems that Sandburg is all I've got and all I'm gonna 
get. I mean, what am I going to do? Take out an add? Post a 
notice at the supermarket? No, this isn't the sort of thing that I 
can advertise. I'm going to have to keep this quiet and make 
sure than as few people as possible know what's happened - is 
happening to me. I don't necessarily want to include Sandburg 
in this. I don't want to trust him. But it's too late for that. He's 
in this already. And besides, I trust him anyway.

What did Sandburg call himself? A guide? Something like that 
anyway. It sounds right.

Maybe, just maybe, neither one of us is crazy.



end