The Standard Disclaimer: The Sentinel was created by Danny Bilson and Paul DeMeo. Twin Peaks was created by David Lynch and Mark Frost. I make no claims on them whatsoever, nor am I making any money from this, so please don’t sue. The cookie jar is empty, anyway. (There aren’t even any cookies in it; my husband ate them all.)

Author’s Note: This is the second in my “Repercussions” series, which is my version of the events following Blair’s Press Conference. Most of my succeeding stories will contain situations relating back to these stories, so it’s best to read them first. 

Also, this story wasn’t beta-read. If there are any mistakes, please let me know.

REPERCUSSIONS II:

THE LESSER OF TWO EVILS

By De Engi

One week after the Press Conference

          “All I’m saying, Chief, is that you have grounds for a lawsuit, here.” Tall, muscular Cascade Police Detective Jim Ellison was saying to his shorter, younger, longer-haired partner, Blair Sandburg, as they entered the Major Crimes “bull-pen”.

          “Well, yeah, man, I mean, not only had I not submitted the diss, but I hadn’t defended it and they quoted it out of context, too. So, yeah, I could sue, but man, I’d need a lawyer and I can’t afford that. Not on my–.” Blair stopped suddenly when he noticed that Jim was no longer at his side. Instead, the other man was standing stock still in the middle of the room, staring at the door.

          “Uh, Jim? What is it, man, what are you seeing?” Blair asked, being able to see nothing out of the ordinary himself.

          “A Beaver, and a Dragonfly.” Jim answered absently.

          “You see what?” Blair said, startled.

          “I see a beaver and a dragonfly.” Jim told him, glancing briefly at his partner before he resumed staring at the door.

          “Two sentinels?” Blair asked him. Jim cocked his head to one side, as though listening to something.

          “I don’t think so, Chief.” He said, uncertainly. “I feel...something, but it’s not the same as with Alex. That was...harsh. A vibration I could almost hear. Like a real low, off-key organ note. This is different. Like two notes forming a harmonic chord. If that makes any sense.” Blair shrugged, not really understanding, but he’d think about it later. If past history was any indication, the fact that Jim saw the Spirit Animals now meant the two people they “belonged” to would not be far behind. Blair watched the door, too, and was not surprised to see two unfamiliar men enter a second later.

          One was suave, dark, and handsome in a decidedly “Cary Grant” way. The other was taller; a very stolid, salt-of-the-Earth type, with curly dark hair and a laid-back manner. The tall one was the Sentinel. That Jim sensed instantly. The other...the other had a kind of suppressed energy, like bottled lightning, that was surprisingly similar to...Blair’s. It was something he’d never noticed until about a week ago, when they’d discovered that Blair’s mother, Naomi, was also a Guide, and now that he had noticed it, it was something that said “Guide” in a deep part of him. And feeling it in this other man, a vague memory tried to come to the surface...but didn’t quite make it.

          Suddenly, like a bolt from the blue, Jim realized that the “harsh” sensation he’d gotten from Alex was due not just from the fact that she was a “deviant” and “enemy” Sentinel, but also because she was unpaired. The two men before him were a Sentinel and Guide pair, and so the “vibration” he felt was complete in a way that Alex hadn’t been.

          “They’re a Sentinel and Guide pair, Chief.” Jim murmured to Blair, even as he instinctively stepped in front of him, putting himself between Blair and the unknown pair. He had no idea who they were, although they didn’t feel evil the way Alex had. However, he still, for some reason, felt a sense of foreboding that he couldn’t ignore.

          The other Sentinel moved towards Jim with his hand outstretched.

          “I’m Sheriff Harry Truman from Twin Peaks.” He told Jim. Jim glanced briefly at Blair, then decided to let Truman take the lead on this - at least until Jim had a better idea of what was going on. At the moment, Truman had evidently decided to play it friendly. Did he know what Jim was?

          “Detective Jim Ellison.” Jim returned the handshake. “Twin Peaks is just on the other side of the mountains, right?”

          “Yeah, it is.” Then he turned towards his companion, who stepped forward.

          “FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper.”

          “Dale is my Guide.” Truman told Jim. Jim blinked, surprised at the ease with which the man revealed the information. Maybe they did know what Jim was. Even more peculiarly, Truman didn’t try to see around Jim, nor ask about his Guide. The point was made moot, however, when Blair took the initiative.

          “Blair Sandburg,” he said, offering his hand. “Jim’s Guide.” A growl rumbled deep in Jim’s chest, an instinctive need to protect his Guide coming to the fore. He couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom, no matter how friendly the two men appeared. And besides, friendly or not, this was another Sentinel in histerritory, and Jim simply couldn’t help but bristle at that. Truman appeared to sense it, and, after a brief greeting to Sandburg, retreated to stand behind Cooper. Blair was surprised. Was Truman simply putting distance between himself and Jim, or, because this was another Sentinel’s territory, was he submitting - giving ground - and, by putting his Guide out front, thereby deliberately showing trust in Jim not to hurt the other Guide? Blair felt a rising excitement at the chance to study what could be two “good” Sentinel/Guide pairs interacting.

          “Sentinel Ellison,” Cooper said, “is there someplace private where we can talk?” Jim shook his head; the surprises just kept coming. Obviously, these two held no qualms about being “outed” as it were. What was going on, here?

          “How about Simon’s office?” Blair suggested quietly to Jim. Jim nodded, not taking his eyes off the other Sentinel.

          “Simon?” Dale asked.

          “Our captain, Simon Banks.” Blair told him. “He knows about us.” The other Sentinel and Guide exchanged grim looks that did nothing for Jim’s peace of mind, and began to put Blair on alert, too.

          Simon Banks had just about decided that the new coffee blend he was trying was not to his liking, when the knock on the door came. At first grateful for an interruption from the paperwork he’d been doing, he instantly changed his mind when Ellison and Sandburg entered, followed by two strangers, one of whom just screamed “FBI”. Considering the trouble they’d had in the past with agents of that institution, Banks wondered if he could call a halt to this day, go home, get back into bed, pull the sheets up over his head, and stay there until tomorrow. Unfortunately, that’s not what big, strong, police captains did, so instead he took a deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.

          It was worse than he could possibly have imagined.

          “I’m sorry,” Cooper said, “but before we go any further, we’ve got another person in our party that we need to wait for.” He turned to Truman. “Harry, where is Gordon?” Truman tilted his head in a manner reminiscent enough of Jim to sit Simon straight up in his chair. Startled, he glanced at his detective. Jim nodded grimly.

          ‘Another Sentinel?’ Banks thought, ‘God, let this not be a repeat of the Alex Barnes incident.’

          “He’s just coming off the elevator now.” Truman said. Dale got up, opened the door, and beckoned to the tall, square-faced man in the trench-coat that was just entering the bull-pen.

          “Gordon, in here.” The FBI agent called.

          “OK, COOP!” The man shouted. Both Jim and Truman winced, and Cooper said, “Gordon, you don’t have to shout anymore, remember?”

          “Sorry, Coop.” The man said sheepishly - and more quietly - as he entered the office. Dale closed the door behind him. “I forget sometimes,” the man in the trench-coat enunciated with exaggerated care and spacing between words, “although that is not to be construed as a lack of gratitude for Harry’s solution to the problem.” Both Truman and Cooper chuckled lightly. The man in the trench-coat turned at the puzzled expressions on the faces of the Cascade contingent.

          “Hello, Gordon Cole. Sorry about that, but I had a hell of a hearing problem for a while, and hearing aids were not sufficient to solve the problem. Ended up shouting a lot; you know: classic over-compensation to not being able to hear myself speak. Then Harry discovered that the quartz and hematite medallion I wore was emitting a wave harmonic that was cancelling out the hearing aid. Once I shrouded the medallion in a silk pouch, the wave harmonic was eliminated, and the hearing aid works just fine, now. Except that, after twenty-five years of shouting, I sometimes forget.” Gordon finished sheepishly.

          “Gordon,” Cooper told the Cascade people, “is my supervisor in the FBI, and has been working as a kind of liaison with...well, maybe you should tell them, Sir.”

          “Well, now,” Gordon began, “first, I need to tell you that Sheriff Truman here is a Sentinel, like your Detective Ellison, and Agent Dale Cooper is his Guide, like Mr. Sandburg here.

          “Um, Gordon, they’ve got that, already.” Cooper told him.

          “Oh, right.” Cole said. “Well, anyway, we saw your press conference, Mr. Sandburg. Most impressive, your attempt to protect your Sentinel. Many people wouldn’t be inclined to make a sacrifice of that magnitude–.“

          ”The problem,” Harry said, interrupting for the sake of expediency, “is that it didn’t work.” Blair paled at that. Jim’s jaw clenched, and Banks threw his hands up.

          “Didn’t work?” Blair managed, finally. “What do you mean?”

          “He means,” Dale replied, “that certain...agencies of the government, who already knew about us, now know about you, too.”

          “Damn.” Simon breathed. He exchanged looks with Jim and Blair. They’d begun preparations to go into hiding in such a case, but hoped those preparations would prove unnecessary. Now, however...

          Dale, Harry, and Cole also exchanged looks. They’d noticed - and correctly interpreted - the looks between the Cascade men, because they’d discussed the probability that the newly-revealed Sentinel and Guide would have such a plan in case the press conference failed in it’s objective.

          “If you’re thinking of running, don’t.” Harry told the other men. Blair, Jim and Simon exchanged startled and grim looks.

          “If you do, the aforementioned Organization,” Gordon continued for Harry, “has no qualms about killing everyone who knows about you.”

          “Yeah,” Harry took over again, “They’ve done it before. Killed an Air Force Major named Garland Briggs and his whole family in Twin Peaks just to prove the point to us.” Harry finished, looking sickened.

          Blair closed his eyes, fighting his terror. His sacrifice had not only been for nothing, but now these men were saying that they couldn’t do anything to protect their tribe against the consequences, either. A large hand suddenly gripped his shoulder. Blair looked up to see Jim staring compassionately at him.

          “Whatever happens, Chief, we’re in this together.” He said between clenched teeth.

          “But, Jim, I...” But Blair got no further. Jim merely shook his head emphatically, and moved to grip both of Blair’s shoulders, not breaking his gaze. That gaze held strength of determination. The same strength of determination that had allowed the bigger man to survive the deaths of all the men in his unit and ally himself with the Chopec in Peru. Blair took strength from his Sentinel, and calmed, somewhat. Dropping his gaze, but only one of the hands on Blair’s shoulders, Jim turned back to Gordon Cole.

          “So, what happens now?” Simon said. The three Twin Peaks men exchanged glances again, and Gordon Cole took a deep breath.

          “Now, there’s only one thing that can save you.” He told them, obvious from his manner that he hated this. “We’ve been through this all before. Five years ago, the government discovered Harry and Coop. They formed an Organization, then faked a fatal car crash, and my men were taken to a laboratory facility deep in a nearby mountain for experimentation. We discovered what had happened, and staged a daring rescue operation. At the same time, I had contacted some people in power, and discovered that there was a bit of a debate going on about Harry’s and Coop’s disposition. Apparently, some agencies, like the FBI and the Secret Service, for example, thought that a Sentinel and Guide would be better off in the field, performing their ancient roles, rather than languishing in a lab.”

          “So Gordon, through Major Briggs, brokered a deal,” Dale said, taking over the narrative, “whereby we remain in the field, doing what we do best, and, in exchange, we occasionally work cases for the FBI, or Search and Rescue, or wherever else The Organization thinks we’re needed.”

          “And...?” Blair, asked, knowing there was more, and dreading it.

          “And...” Harry said, shifting uncomfortably, “Once a year, for three days, we submit ourselves for laboratory tests.”

          “What kind of tests?” Simon asked suspiciously.

          “Sensory tests, physical fitness and stress tests, blood tests.” Cooper said. “They also take tissue, blood, and semen samples.” Jim’s face grew still at the mention of semen samples. He knew what that meant.

          “Genetic tests and cloning and breeding experiments.” He stated flatly.

          “We have never been told, but we figure yes.” Dale replied.

             “None of the tests involve separating us for very long,” Harry continued, “nor are they invasive or harmful. After all, it’s in their best interests to keep us alive and healthy. And because of that, they make a lot of their data available to us.”

          “Yeah,” Dale added, grinning for the first time. “For instance, they came up with an anesthetic that’s safe and effective for use on Sentinels.” Blair’s eyes widened at that.

          “You’re kidding.” Blair said, unable to hide his relief. He’d been worried sick about what to do about someone who can throw off the effects of knock-out drugs at will. Visions of Jim waking up in the middle of a major surgical procedure loomed large in his nightmares.

          “And we’re never separated for long,” Harry took over again, ”because...when they...had us before, they discovered that a Sentinel and Guide can’t be apart for more than three weeks straight before the Sentinel starts losing control of his senses and the Guide starts suffering anxiety attacks and bouts of paranoia.”

          All three Cascade men looked startled at that. Jim and Blair had come to suspect the effects of separation on a Sentinel, but had never even considered the repercussions to the Guide.

          “So what do we do?” Blair asked, bleakly. Gordon Cole exchanged looks with Truman and Cooper. Then he withdrew a thick envelope from his trench-coat.

          “The Organization does not know that we are here.” Cole said. “And are surely hoping we don’t know about you, or that we were able to get to you so fast. Harry and Dale signed an agreement covering the conditions we’ve outlined.”

          “The Organization probably figures,” Dale continued, “that having one Sentinel and Guide pair in the field is enough, and that they now have the luxury of locking you two up in a lab. We’re here to prevent that, by having you sign the same agreement.”

          “Believe me, it’s the lesser of two evils.” Harry told them grimly. “And if you ever violate the agreement, try to go into hiding, or go to the media about this, they will kill everybody you know. Remember, they’ve proven it to us.”

          “So what’s to prevent The Organization from violating this agreement?” Simon wondered.

          “Too many agencies convinced the President of the United States that Sentinels and Guides are needed in the field too badly to waste. The President counter-signed the agreement.” Cooper told them. “So, if you sign this agreement and fax it to a number we have, the President will counter-sign and fax it back. Then, if and when certain people come for you, you show this to them. Although they should actually be recalled as soon as the President signs it.”

          There was silence for a moment. Then Blair reached out and took the envelope from Cole.

          “Would you excuse us, please, gentlemen?” Simon said, gesturing towards the door.

          “Of course. But please remember, you may not have much time.” Cooper said, and stood. The other two men stood, also, and left the office, although all knew they wouldn’t go far.

          “Oh, god, Jim, I...I...” Blair breathed, on the verge of tears. He couldn’t meet his Sentinel’s eyes, feeling the full force of having completely betrayed the older man. Jim sat still for a moment, teeth grinding. A part of him, for an instant, blamed Blair, but then, immediately, he squashed the anger. He realized Blair felt awful about all this. After all, he’d sacrificed everything in his desperate attempt to cover their tracks. And a part of Jim knew his Guide would sacrifice his freedom, or even his life, if need be. So, time to put into practice the lessons he’d learned last week, get past blame and on to what to do next. He took Blair by the shoulders, and forced the younger man to meet his gaze.

          “Chief, what’s done is done.” Jim told him. “You tried you best, but your gambit didn’t work, and now it’s time to deal with what is.” And Jim smiled, ever so slightly, and patted his cheek, just to let Blair know that Jim didn’t blame his Guide. Blair swallowed and relaxed a tiny bit.

          “So what do we do?” Blair said hoarsely.

          “Whatever it is,” Jim assured him, “it’ll be together. And I think the deal Gordon Cole has offered is about the best we’re gonna get.” Blair dropped his gaze, not wanting to think about it, but knowing he had to.

          ‘No way out, no way out, no way out...’ The thought beat frantically in Blair’s mind in a moment of panic. Then hands cradling his face forced his gaze back up again, and made the thought fade a little. Jim stared reassuringly into Blair’s eyes, again imparting strength. Blair didn’t relax, but did manage to nod determinedly.

          Blair sighed, then, and opened the envelope Cole had handed him. He unfolded the contents and he and Jim read it quickly, but thoroughly. The agreement pretty much said what Cole had told them it did. The part about what would happen if the “subjects” ever violated the agreement was vague, but, then again, obviously no one was going to put down in writing that they would commit a crime such as murder. Not even the government.

          “I wish we could have a lawyer go over this, but we don’t dare, and I doubt there’s time.” Blair said, still reading. Then he looked up at Jim. “They could be here to pick us up any minute, now, and they could, like, blow up all of Major Crimes to cover their tracks, couldn’t they?” But it wasn’t really a question, and Jim could only nod. They continued to hold gazes, communicating clearly without the need for words.

          “We’ll sign the agreement, Simon.” Jim finally told the big black man.

          “But, Jim, can’t you...?”

          “No, we can’t.” Jim told him abruptly. “Would you risk Daryl?” Simon unwillingly subsided at the thought of a threat to his son. He nodded bleakly.

          “Sheriff Truman, you and the others can come back in now.” Jim said in a conversational tone of voice, not because he thought the other Sentinel was listening in to their conversation, but because, even when one isn’t listening, most people will latch onto the sound of their own name being spoken anyway.

          The door opened, and the three men trooped in. They sat down.

          “We’ll sign the agreement.” Jim told Gordon tersely. Cole merely nodded. Simon handed him a pen, and Jim signed, then handed the papers and pen over to Blair.

          Blair gulped, and hesitated, but finally signed the papers. Simon immediately called Rhonda in.

          “Fax this paperwork immediately to the number Mr. Cole will give you, then wait for a return fax and bring it here right away. It could take a few minutes, but we need the return fax as soon as possible.” Simon told the woman. She took the papers, then the sheet Gordon handed her, and left.

          As Rhonda walked to the fax machine, she wondered what this paperwork was, and why everyone in the room looked so grim. Ordinarily, she wouldn’t dream of reading the papers, but the situation seemed so serious - Blair had looked on the verge of tears, and Jim had been pale and grim - that she wondered if the other members of Major Crimes might be better off with a heads-up about it. She carefully fed the pages through, then surreptitiously read them while she waited for the return fax. As she read, she paled.

          ‘Oh, god!’ She thought, smart and savvy enough to understand all the implications by the time she was through. Then she wondered if she should tell Joel and Rafe and the others, or not. Would telling help, or place them all in danger? Or was the point moot already; did whatever this Organization was already suspect that everyone in Major Crimes knew about Jim and Blair? Most likely, Rhonda realized, they’d probably just assume they did, and “deal” with them if necessary.

          Just then, Joel walked up to the machine, obviously intending to use it. However, Rhonda realized how important it was to get the return fax as soon as possible, which couldn’t happen if the machine was in use.

          She told.

          It was just as well that she did, too, because Joel was then in a position to understand the implications of the two men who entered the bull-pen just moments later.

          “We’re looking for a Detective James Ellison and a Mister Blair Sandburg.” One of the two men dressed all in black said to the room at large. Except for the fact that one was blond and the other red-haired, they looked pretty much identical, from their similar heights and builds, to their dark suits and the sunglasses they wore even indoors. Joel, seeing that Rhonda still wasn’t back with the return paperwork, jumped to his feet with surprising agility for a man of his size, and interposed himself between the strangers and Simon’s office.

          “Jim and Blair aren’t in at the moment.” Joel said, deliberately loudly, hoping that, A. The others in the bull-pen would get the message that they were to play along, and B. That Jim would hear. Fortunately, his hopes came to fruition on both counts. When the two men indicated that they’d wait, Rafe jumped to and offered coffee while further blocking access to Simon’s office - and not incidently, also blocking their view - as Simon, warned by both Sentinels, quickly drew the blinds on his windows so the men outside couldn’t see in.

          Then, Joel and Rafe made small talk, sweating the time. Soon, to Joel’s relief, Rhonda appeared again, knocked, and entered Simon’s office, opening the door barely enough to fit through. Once inside, she handed over the papers, then, without revealing that she understood the significance of the two men she’d spotted in the bull-pen, informed Simon of their presence. Simon quickly scanned the last page, then, with equal parts relief and trepidation, told Rhonda, “Show the two gentlemen in.” Rhonda nodded, and left the office.

          “Captain Banks would like to see you.” Rhonda told the two strangers, trying to signal Joel with her eyes, but her mere appearance was enough to let Joel know it would be...well, not ok, but less bad than it could have been, to let the men through. Joel grabbed Rafe and got out of the way.

          After they’d entered Simon’s office, Rafe said, “D’you want to tell me whatthat was all about?”

          Rhonda grimly brought him up to date.

          In the meantime, the two dark-dressed strangers had recognized Harry, Dale, and Gordon, and knew immediately what their presence meant. And so they said nothing as they took the sheets Simon handed to them, and read them carefully. Especially the last page, with the signatures. Then, they glanced at each other, and back at Simon. Then the red-head took out a cell-phone and punched in a number from memory.

          “We have a signed AE-4732-SG-8 agreement here.” The man said when the line was answered. He listened to someone at the other end, then said, “Yes, sir, signed by both parties and the President.” He listened some more, then replied, “Yes, sir.” Then, “ Yes, sir.” And “They are, sir.” And finally, “Right.” before disconnecting the call.

          “This agreement will be honored.” The red-head said flatly. There was no reaction from the blond, but the others in the room tried not to show their relief. “However, your three days of testing starts now. We will drive you back to your loft to gather some clothes and toiletries. We suggest you don’t resist. You will be returned in exactly seventy-two hours.”

          Blair made as if to protest, but Jim’s hand firmly - almost painfully - on his shoulder silenced him. He grit his teeth, wanting to speak, but knowing he didn’t dare. For once, they’d lost. But, he realized unwillingly, they could lose even more if they weren’t careful.

          Blair swallowed his pride, and went without protest.

Seventy-Three Hours Later

          Simon leaned against the elevator wall. Harry Truman, Dale Cooper, and Gordon Cole stood a respectful distance away. They’d stayed while Jim and Blair were gone, telling their story in more detail, and awaiting the other Sentinel’s and Guide’s return.

          As soon as Simon had gotten the call from Jim that they had been returned to the loft, Simon had asked if he could come by. He’d realized Jim and Blair were probably exhausted, but couldn’t shake the need to reassure himself that they were all right. The Twin Peaks contingent had asked to come along in case the other two men wanted to talk to someone who understood their ordeal.

          Naturally, the door opened before Simon could even raise a hand to knock. ‘You’d think I’d be used to that by now...’ Banks thought idly. Jim, looking tired, ushered them in. They went to the sofa, where they spotted Blair, who was uncharacteristically pale and silent. However, besides that, Simon was relieved to note, they looked none the worse for wear. ‘Apparently, they are honoring the agreement, thank God.’ Simon thought.

          “Jim, Blair, you’re ok?” Simon asked anyway, needing the reassurance.

          “Yeah, Simon, we’re alright.” Jim told him, while Blair just nodded. Harry sat down on the sofa next to Blair, then, and looked at the younger man sympathetically.

          “You wanna talk about it?” The sheriff said, gently. After a few seconds, Blair looked up, tired and wan-looking. There were tears in his eyes.

          “Yeah, I think I do...”

-The End-