THUNDER AND LIGHTNING

by Wintersrose

"Wow, look at that rain come down!" Blair Sandburg enthused as he looked out of the window of the old blue and white Ford pick-up truck in which he sat with his partner and best friend, Jim Ellison. The pair sat in the truck parked outside of a modest house located in a modest neighborhood in Reed Heights, a suburb on the outskirts of the city of Cascade, Washington. Outside of the homey quarters of the 1969 truck, a steady sheet of rain began to fall, washing down over the vehicle in a deluge.

Blair shivered in his seat and wrapped his leather jacket more tightly about himself, imagining clearly just how cold the rain would be. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. The rain was falling harder, he was sure of it.

"Yeah," Jim Ellison complained as he peered through the growing darkness caused by the rain and tried to focus past all of the drops of rain toward the house that they watched. If the man he was watching for showed up, he wanted to be able to see him. Jim already knew he was going to get drowned before the end of the night – if the man showed. "It's making it hard to see, though."

"Just dial it up a bit," Blair suggested. "And filter out the drops the best you can so you can see the house itself."

Jim nodded and adjusted his enhanced sight, accordingly. Jim Ellison, detective with the Cascade Police Department's Major Crimes Unit, was also one of the most rare of individuals – a Sentinel, a man who had five enhanced senses that he used in the course of his work.

"Better?" Blair asked. The younger man, with curly chestnut hair that fell to his shoulders and vividly blue eyes, served as an observer to the Major Crimes unit and took his duties as Jim's guide and partner very seriously. He laid a hand on Jim's arm for just a moment, then removed it and peered out through the darkness himself. Unlike the sentinel next to him, Blair could not see much past the front of the trunk and that was with his glasses on. Blair pulled them off and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

The flash of lightning took them both by surprise, coming without warning, and with such intensity, that it caused Jim to let out a cry of pain and Blair to jump and hit his head on the roof of the truck. Blair rubbed at his head and looked over at his partner; Jim was curled up, his head buried in both arms which rested atop the steering wheel. Blair reached a hand over and rubbed gently at Jim's back.

"Dial it way back, Jim," Blair warned him. "Waaaay back."

"Yeah," Jim's voice, tinged with pain, spoke very softly. "Took me by surprise."

"Both of us. I can count the number of times we've had thunderstorms here on one hand. Man, this sucks. Are you all right?"

Jim didn't answer for a moment and Blair rubbed the back of his partner's neck. "Dial it down, partner. Keep on dialing it down. You'll get past this."

Jim agreed, painfully. He didn't like this, at all.

He looked up, cautiously and frowned. "This isn't going to work, Chief. I can't see the house now. How am I supposed to do this stake-out like this?"

"We'll make it work," Blair said. "Let's wait for the next flash and see what your limit is before it really starts to affect you."

Jim nodded and kept his head raised until the next flash went off. He squeezed his eyes shut immediately but, with his senses dialed down, the effect of the lightning wasn't nearly as intense. Jim took a deep breath and nodded.

"That was okay, as long as I close my eyes as soon as it happens. What…"

His voice cut off at the crackle of lightning that came a few seconds later, and Blair jumped again, this time avoiding the top of the cab. Jim shook his head like an angry lion, rubbing at both ears.

"Damn!" he exclaimed. "That hurt!"

"Jim, didn't you dial your hearing down?" Blair demanded.

"Yeah, but not enough," Jim agreed. He squeezed his eyes closed again for only a moment and gingerly touched his ears. "That was very loud."

Blair took a few minutes to help Jim get used to the lightning and the thunder, but the younger man knew they wouldn't be able to stay out here much longer. Already, Jim had the slightest tinge of a headache evident in his blue eyes and the creases along his forehead.

"There!" Jim exclaimed suddenly and the driver's side door to the truck was thrown open and Jim hopped outside, in hot pursuit of a shadowy form that stood near the front of the house. Blair,
uncertain at first, finally climbed out of the truck, racing after his partner even as another burst of lightning flashed through the darkened sky.

The man they sought, Jerman Taylor, saw them and took off running again, and Jim sped up, chasing after the man. Blair, further behind, ran with them as far as he could, until both men were out of sight. Cursing, he ran back to the truck and started it then drove down the street. He turned the lights on, allowing them to cut through the darkness in the hopes that he could catch up with his partner and the man he chased.

It took almost five minutes, five minutes where anxiety raced through him, until he finally found Jim – sitting on top of the man he had chased, his eyes squeezed shut and both hands over his ears. Blair put in a quick call to the PD and then stepped out of the truck.

"Jim?" he said. "Jim, can you hear me?"

Blair barely saw a brief nod through the rain but he saw it nonetheless and knelt beside his partner. "I sent for help. Did you get him cuffed?"

"Yeah," Jim agreed. "Let's put him in the truck until backup gets here."

Fifteen minutes later, during which Blair, Jim and the bad guy waited in the truck, help arrived and the uniformed cops took Jerman Taylor into custody. Blair steered Jim over to the truck and put him into the passenger seat – for once Jim didn't argue about it. Instead, the older man leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, squeezing them shut.

"I told Pankhurst that you would take care of the paperwork tomorrow. He'll handle the booking for the night. You need to get home," Blair commented.

Jim, again, didn't argue, and Blair, worried, drove them home. The younger man helped the older man inside the apartment building and up the elevator to their loft, where he made Jim go into the bathroom and get undressed.

"I just want to go to bed, Chief," Jim appealed.

"Not until you get warmed up and I take care of that headache," Blair said. "Get in there. I'll get you some dry clothes."

Blair hung up his sodden jacket, quickly slipped into a pair of warm, dry sweats and went up the stairs to his partner's room. He found Jim's pajamas – rarely worn – and brought them down to his partner. He handed them through a crack in the door and told Jim to get dressed.

Then he busied himself in the kitchen, making them both a strong cup of tea laced with willowbark. Blair warmed up a hot pack, as well, and made two large sandwiches, complete with pickles on the side, for after the headaches were lessened.

Jim came out of the bathroom just in time and Blair settled him on the couch, placing the hot pack behind his neck. He made Jim drink all of the tea, then set out to give Jim a thorough scalp massage, until the sentinel was half asleep on the couch and listing slightly sideways.

"All right, Jim," Blair said, carefully removing the hot pack. "Eat your sandwich and I'll go get your bed ready. Then I'd better work with those dials so you can sleep all night. I'll turn on the white
noise generator. Is your sleep mask up there?"

Jim nodded and began to eat the sandwich, his movements lethargic. Blair did as he planned, readying his partner's bed, turning on the small white noise generator on a table beside the bed, and setting the sleep mask where it could easily be found.

Jim joined him a few minutes later, sandwich eaten, and laid down on the bed.

"All right," Blair went into his soothing tone of voice, a voice Jim always found almost hypnotic. "Close your eyes and put your sleep mask on."

Jim did as ordered.

"Listen only to my voice," Blair said, softly. "There's no one else here. There's no other noises. Nothing bright to see, just warm, cozy darkness. Tune out everything that you don't want to hear…"

Very soon the Sentinel was on the edge of sleep and Blair smiled. "Good night, partner."

"…night… 'ief…" a murmured reply came back. "Thaaanks…for ev'thing…"

Blair, smiling, went back down the stairs to the living room and began to eat his own sandwich.

THE END

Disclaimer:  The Sentinel is the property of Pet Fly Production and UPN.  We've only borrowed the characters for a few frolics in the sun.  
We promise to return them where we found them when we're done.