A Michigan Yankee in Captain Simon's Bullpen
By Brate
Disclaimer: None of the characters from The Sentinel is owned by me. They belong to Pet Fly and the like.
Notes: This is from a challenge on some page (my memory is lacking and can't recall which one; anyone who recognizes this, feel free to let me know) where a fan is transported into the show, as in A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court.
Warnings: Language and me.<g>
Just walking through the door and making her way to the couch required the greatest concentration. She was tired... dog-tired, whatever that meant. The only thing she wanted to do was sit down and vegetate. Work had been hectic, leaving little time for sitting down or even thinking. But thinking was the last thing she wanted to do at this time.
Reaching for the remote, she clicked on the television, flicking through until landing on the Sci-Fi Channel. Quantum Leap was just ending, so she decided to see what came next. When the theme song to The Sentinel came on, she was pleasantly surprised and sank back into the couch to watch.
Within the first two minutes she realized this was an episode she'd never seen. Brate was confused. How is that possible? She'd seen them all and even had every one on tape. She sat forward in her seat and anxiously stared at the screen.
It showed a warehouse in the bad part of town. That's original, she thought. It was dark and a portly man was sneaking along the side of the building when another, taller man appeared next to him. They conversed briefly, then the tall man shot the fat one. Ooh, a murder mystery. The tall man tried to pull the dead body into the warehouse, but a passing truck captured his attention. He rushed the opposite way, and faded into the background.
The truck belonged to none other than Detective Jim Ellison of the Cascade PD. He and Blair Sandburg exited the truck, Jim with his gun drawn, scanning the area. Finding the body, he tossed the cell phone over to Blair to call for backup as he looked around the scene.
As Brate watched her favorite characters try to figure out who killed the man, she began to get dizzy. Holding her hand up to her forehead, she leaned back against the couch when, suddenly, there was no couch under her. "Oof!" She landed in a pile on the cement. Cement? What the hell is cement doing in my living room? Brate picked herself up and dusted herself off before looking at her surroundings. It was very dark, and she could see very little by the dim light of the streetlamp. She looked at the building next to her and realized where she was... Cascade. As in the fictional town where The Sentinel took place. "Oh, crap," she whispered and slid down onto the ground.
Jim Ellison rounded the corner of the abandoned warehouse, training his gun before him. He heard a whispered curse and turned to see a young woman fall to her knees. Thinking she'd been hurt, he rushed to her side.
"Ma'am, are you okay?" he asked quietly. Then, after not getting a response, he touched her shoulder when he asked again.
Brate felt something on her shoulder and looked up to see the big man leaning over her. "Holy shit!" she yelled, and scurried away from him.
Jim could see the woman was scared, and did his best to calm her, wishing Sandburg was here. "It's all right ma'am, I'm a police officer." He watched for further signs of flight and was relieved when none appeared. "Are you hurt?"
Hearing the question, Brate shook her head as she tried to figure out what was going on. "I'm dreaming," she said matter-of-factly.
Detective Ellison put his gun away and inched closer to the young lady. "Do you know what happened here?"
Brate nodded. "Of course, the tall man shot the fat man."
Jim sighed, relieved that the woman seemed to be coherent and unhurt. "I need you to come with me, do you understand?"
Brate nodded once more and took the offered hand. Jim easily helped her up and they began walking around the building. "You feel so real," she commented as they rounded the last corner.
She heard the tall man chuckle. "Shouldn't I?"
"You're just a character."
"Seems I'm not the only one," she heard him say under his breath. Brate was starting to get over the shock of landing in Cascade when she came alongside the truck and spotted Blair standing over the body.
"Holy shit!" she yelled and vaguely heard Jim say, "Not again!"
"This is the coolest!" she yelled as she hurried toward Blair.
The anthropologist saw Jim coming with a woman when she shrieked and ran up to him. Not sure what was going on, he took a few steps back in order to avoid being run down by the oncoming female. Glancing at Jim, he saw the sentinel nod that it was all right, so he introduced himself. "I'm Blair Sandburg." He stuck out his hand, and the woman quickly grabbed it and shook it.
"You feel real too. I love this dream."
At her words, Blair looked to his partner who circled his finger next to his head. Blair's lips created an O. "And what's your name?" he asked.
"Oops, sorry. I'm Brate."
"What kind of name is Brate?" questioned Jim.
"It's a perfectly good name," Brate answered. "Much more original than 'Jim'."
Blair chuckled at this. "She's got you there, Jim." He sobered up at his friend's glare. "The coroner and backup are on their way."
Brate was looking around the location when she was swung around. "How did you know my name," the taller man demanded.
"Didn't you tell it to me?" Seeing his head shake in the negative, she tried again. "Lucky guess?" Once again he shook no. Brate searched her mind for something that would seem reasonable. She wanted this dream to last as long as possible. "Oh, I've seen your picture in the paper. 'Cop of the Year,' right?"
Jim visibly relaxed and Brate breathed a sigh of relief. "I told you you'd be famous, man," teased Blair as the ambulance and police cars raced in.
Brate was pushed to the side as the area was cordoned off and the people set to work. Jim started barking out orders and Brate saw him point to her once. She tried to stay out of everyone's way while trying to watch closely. This was definitely her best dream ever, and she didn't want to miss a moment of it.
Pretty soon the adrenaline rush wore off, and she found herself leaning against one of the cars for support. Blair saw this and moved over to talk with her. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"
"No, thanks, I don't drink that stuff."
"How you doing?"
"Tired. I'd already worked a twelve-hour shift when I'd landed here, so I'm ready to crash."
Blair seemed interested. "Where do you work?"
"At one of the plants in town," Brate answered, vaguely. It was not as though she could really say where she worked. "Is this going to take long?"
Blair surveyed the scene. "Jim's just wrapping things up, then we'll head over to the station."
"I get to go with you?" Brate inquired, full of hope.
"Well you are a witness so it would seem likely," he smiled.
"Great. Wait until I tell Gemini about this."
"Who's that?"
"She's a friend who loves the show as much as -- or more than -- I do."
"What show?" Blair sounded confused.
"The Sen... I mean... Cops. We just love cop shows."
"Oh. Well, here comes Jim. He's the real cop."
"Do you get sick of that?"
"Sick of what?"
"People saying, 'You're not a cop, Sandburg'."
"Nah, I know they're just worried." Blair stopped to think. Just before he could ask how she knew that, Ellison came up and signaled for both Blair and Brate to come with him.
"I phoned Simon and let him know we were coming in."
Brate smiled widely. "Yeah, baby. I'm going to the station."
Jim and Blair exchanged a look. "Don't you think she's being a little too enthusiastic about this?" Jim asked in a whisper as they followed Brate to the truck.
"She does seem a bit off. Are you sure she saw the murder?" the anthropologist responded.
"She knew it was a fat guy who died before she saw the body. Unless she's in on it, I have to assume she witnessed it."
"Which means she might be in danger."
They reached the truck and entered, with Brate sliding in the middle. There was no talking on the trip to the station, but the men couldn't figure out why their witness wouldn't stop grinning.
Jim maneuvered the truck into the parking garage, and the three exited and moved to the elevator. As the elevator rose, Jim commented, "We're going to have you look at mug shots and see if you can spot the shooter. If you can't we'll have to get a sketch drawn."
"No sweat. I'm good with faces."
The elevator stopped on the seventh floor and Brate followed Jim and Blair down the hall. They came to the doors marked "Major Crime."
"This is unbelievable," Brate shouted as she pushed her way into the doors. Going straight to Jim's desk, she plopped down in the chair with a sigh and a smile. The two men trailed slowly behind, talking in whispers.
"How does she know which is your desk, Jim?"
"I have no idea, Chief, but she seems to know a little too much about us. I'll run a background check on her, see if she's connected somehow."
They quickened their steps and came alongside the desk. Jim left to check on the findings of forensics. Blair slid around and started fiddling with the computer, bringing up the mug shot database. Brate openly stared at him as he slipped some hair behind his ear. Noticing the stare, he turned and asked, "What?"
"Sorry, it's just I know Cin would kill to be able to do that for you."
"Do what?" Blair seemed puzzled.
"Brush your hair back off your forehead. I think Heidi would just sit there and stare into your eyes. Or Jim's. It's hard to tell with her."
"Do I know these women?"
"No, but they know you."
"You're very strange," Blair commented.
"I get that a lot," Brate confirmed. "So I just flip through, looking for the tall guy?"
"Is he the one you saw commit the murder?"
"Yepper. He's the villain in the show."
Blair once again looked over at Brate with a confused expression. "I have to ask" he started.
Brate looked up from glancing through mug shots and blue eyes captured blue eyes. "Ask away, but you might not like the answer. I can tell you one thing: I have never had mental problems -- although Betty and a few guys at work might argue with that."
"Never?" he asked, clearly unconvinced.
"Nope." She went back to looking at the pictures. "Don't worry about me, in a little while I'll wake up and this'll be over. But I'm going to enjoy it while I can."
Brate stopped flipping through the pictures when she spotted the man she'd seen pull the trigger.
"There's something I have to show Jim," Blair told her before she could inform him of her find. He took off out the doors of Major Crime telling Brate to wait there.
Normally Brate would do so, especially in a police station, but after all, this was her dream and she had to get the whole picture. She scanned the room and noticed no one was watching, so she stood up and started to wander over to Simon's office. He wasn't in, and she wanted to view his office, maybe even sneak a cup of his coffee. She really didn't drink coffee, but she'd wanted to be able to say she'd had a cup.
She'd just settled down in the chair behind his desk when Simon Banks walked in. "Who the hell are you?" he bellowed.
"I'm Brate. I'm with Jim and Blair."
"Kindly get out of my chair," he said growling. He turned and saw the pair walking into the bullpen. "Ellison, Sandburg, my office... NOW!"
"You said it! That is so cool," grinned Brate. She moved around the desk and settled herself on top of the table in his office.
Simon continued to stare at the young lady in his office as his detective walked in. The captain pointed at Brate and asked, "Who is this woman?"
"She witnessed the warehouse murder tonight. She's trying to identify the shooter," Jim told his superior.
Brate piped up, "I know who the shooter is; I found his mug shot."
"Why didn't you say something?"
"Um, I just did," she said matter-of-factly.
Blair snickered from the doorway.
"Show me," Jim commanded. Brate trailed after the detective and pointed at the shooter on the screen. Jim quickly got online and found out what he could about the man. "Alan Avery. He was released two months ago from Starkville. He was in for grand theft auto, but no crimes of violence listed on his rap sheet."
"Maybe he's trying to expand his repertoire."
"So who's the dead guy?" Brate asked.
"Drew Collinsworth. A small-time businessman. He owns a motorcycle shop over on Fifth; we have officers searching it now." He glanced at Brate, watching intently. "What's your full name anyway?"
"Brate."
"What, like Cher?"
"More like Santana."
At this, Jim smiled, but quickly covered his grin. "Do you have any ID?"
Brate patted her pockets and turned her hands up in a shrug. "Nope, sorry."
"We have to have some way of verifying your identity. Is there someone we can call?"
"Nope."
Jim sighed in exasperation. "Can we fingerprint you?"
"Sure."
"I'll take her down, Jim."
"Thanks, I'll talk to Simon and meet you downstairs."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Yeah, she's weird, Simon, but I do think she saw something. I'd feel better if she got some protection."
"You tried for a real name?"
"She'll only give us her alias. And no ID. Sandburg's getting her fingerprinted now. I figure if she's escaped from a nuthouse, we'll find out through the prints."
"You know what this means, Jim. Take her to the loft."
"But, Simon, you can't be serious."
"You found her... you deal with her." The tone brokered no argument.
"Yes, sir."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Jim found the two downstairs, just finishing up. The woman was giggling as she threatened Blair with her blackened fingers.
"Let's go," he told them.
"Sir, yes, sir," Brate saluted. Jim rolled his eyes as if asking for mercy.
The witness rode between the two men on the way to Jim's loft. They stopped for dinner at Wonder Burger, choosing to go through the drive thru.
"Make yourself at home," Blair said as he escorted Brate inside their dwelling. Brate started exploring, wandering around the downstairs, peeking into Blair's room and the bathroom, before stepping out onto the balcony. "Love the view!" she called back to the men.
"Thanks," said Blair. "Why don't you come sit down and eat." She did so, taking a seat at the table.
Everyone ate in silence while Brate looked back and forth between the two men. "Have you guys ever thought of hooking up?"
"Hooking up what?" Jim asked.
Blair laughed. "I think she means us... together... as in a couple."
Brate nodded.
Jim choked on the burger. "No," he said incredulously.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay, but a shitload of people out there are going to be devastated." Brate returned her attention to her food, happily munching on her burger, and ignoring the confused and amused look on her hosts' faces.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A phone rang in an office. "Yes?"
"We have a problem. There was a witness."
"Take care of it."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
After throwing the wrappers away, the trio settled into the living room. Brate took the couch, knowing that one of the men would have to sit next to her. Blair did as Jim sat in the chair.
"Let's go over what you saw," Jim announced as he focused his senses on the witness as she sat on his couch.
Brate was enjoying her trip into the "Sentinel Zone," or wherever her dream was taking her. She decided to go along with it as far as she could. "Well, I saw the big man -- Drew, right?" She continued after the detective nodded. "Drew was creeping along the side of the warehouse when the tall guy came up next to him. They talked for a few minutes and the tall guy shot him."
"What were they talking about?"
"I didn't really hear much, something about someone owing someone something."
"That's helpful," Jim said. "And how did you happen to be at the warehouse?"
At this, Brate paused. Nothing she said would sound reasonable, and yet, since this was a dream, maybe they would take what she gave them. "I'm not sure, I think I got lost."
"Where were you supposed to be?" Blair asked.
"At home, sitting on my couch," she replied truthfully. She saw Jim tilting her head at her last comment, and then he nodded to his friend.
"Hey, you're testing me to see if I'm lying, aren't you? Listening to my heart rate or something." Brate almost bounced on the couch in delight until she realized what she'd said. Oops.
"What are you talking about?" Jim growled.
"Nothing." Play innocent, she told herself. Maybe they'll ignore her slip.
No such luck.
"Who are you?" Jim demanded. "Are you with Brackett?"
"No way!" She was nervous, but Brate wasn't going to allow herself to be pushed around. "He's a dick!"
"Told you," Blair said to Jim.
Jim's eyes narrowed as he looked at Brate. "How do you know him then?"
"I saw the episode." At the extremely confused look on both men's faces, and the red-faced anger on Jim's, Brate decided to come clean. "Okay. This is going to sound bizarre but it's the truth. The Sentinel is a television show -- used to be on UPN, but now it's on Sci-Fi Channel." The skeptical looks on her listeners' faces did not bode well. She drew a deep breath and continued, "I came home from work and turned on the TV to relax and started watching an episode of the show I'd never seen before. It was the murder at the warehouse. Next thing I know, I'm flat on my ass outside said warehouse, and you come over to scare the snot right out of me," she finished in an accusing tone.
Silence.
"Well?" Brate asked at last.
Blair just shrugged his shoulders and looked to his best friend.
"Jim?"
"She believes she's telling the truth."
"You think I'm nuts. Well, I don't mind, I still think you're part of a dream, so there." Brate stuck her tongue out at the detective and winked at Blair when she heard him snicker. "I told you who I saw shoot the guy. The rest is up to you." She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for their decision.
"Can you give us a minute?" asked Blair, pulling the sentinel over toward the window. Brate nodded and moved into the kitchen. She opened the fridge and snagged a bottle of water. Jumping up, she sat on the counter to watch the conversation unfold.
Jim frowned as he watched the witness sitting on his counter, but Blair caught his attention. "So what do you think of her?"
"I think she's loony tunes. No last name even."
"But she did know about the murder. Maybe there's something to what she says."
"And maybe Simon is soft-spoken."
"Well, we should at least check out the guy she picked out."
"What if he's innocent, Chief? Then what?"
"Then nothing. It's just a lead, you don't have to arrest the guy or throw him down a flight of stairs. We'll just check him out. No harm in that, big guy."
"Don't tell me you're falling for her baby blues."
"C'mon, man. Just give it a go; you have a dead body and no other leads, right?"
"True. All right, she can stay for now, but I'm reserving a padded room for her in the future."
"Point taken."
"Okay, Brate." The brown-haired witness looked up at her name. "We'll go along with you for now."
She jumped down from the counter and started to walk to the living room. "Kick ass. So where are we gonna start?"
Before he could answer, Ellison heard the familiar sound of a rifle being cocked.
Brate was halfway to the duo when she saw Jim tilt his head to the side and come rushing at her, yelling, "Sandburg, down!"
The detective crashed into Brate just as a shot hurtled through the loft, shattering the water bottle on the counter, raining water down. Jim stood up with his gun drawn and raced out the front door, shouting, "Stay put!" behind him.
"Are you okay?" Blair asked, scooting over to Brate's side.
"My wrist hurts," she replied, cradling her left wrist with her right. "This sucks! Dreams aren't supposed to hurt."
"Maybe it's not a dream," ventured the anthropologist, as he gently checked the injured appendage.
Wincing at the pain, Brate responded, "Then I have lots more trouble than a broken bone." She sighed and laid her head back against the counter. "Is he always so rough saving your life?"
Blair chuckled. "I have bruises on top of bruises. But I'll admit it's better than being dead."
Their heads rose at the sound of the door being opened. Breaths were released when the detective was revealed. "You guys all right?" Jim asked.
Blair shook his head. "I think her wrist may be broken. We'd better take her to Cascade General."
Jim nodded. "Sorry about that."
"It's all right," Brate said. "Better than being dead."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"You find any sign of him?" Blair asked. He and Jim sat outside of the emergency room where Brate was getting X-rays.
"No, he was gone by the time I got down there. It was Avery though. She might be telling the truth about seeing the shooting, anyway."
"Go easy on her, Jim. I think she's been through a lot."
"I have been, Chief. She's in protective custody and not in jail."
"Did you run her prints?"
"Yeah, she's not in the system." The sentinel paused, listening. "It's broken; she'll need a cast."
A few minutes later, a nurse wheeled Brate out of the room. Brate said, "Hey, guys, why don't you go down to the lounge and get some coffee or something? They need to take me to get a cast; it's going to take a little while."
"We're fine." Jim looked down at the injured witness. "We'll follow you."
"Oh, come on, I'll be fine. I'm sure you guys are tired. Come and get me in a half hour." Brate motioned for the nurse to go, silencing the detective's protests.
"Let's do as the lady ordered, Kemosabe." Blair pulled his larger friend along to the lounge. "You can call Simon and check in; let him know what's going on."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Alan Avery pushed away from the wall, watching the cops go in one direction while his target went in the other. Perfect. He slowly trailed after the woman and her nurse, stopping outside the room where she was to get the cast. He moved to follow when the doctor entered the room also. After listening at the door, Avery decided to wait until the doctor left before he made his move. He'd already made too many mistakes.
The killer backed away from the door, and kept watch. Twenty minutes later, both the nurse and doctor exited the room. He watched them walk down the hall and knew there would be no better time. Avery sauntered into the room, bringing his weapon out from hiding.
Brate easily recognized the shooter from the warehouse with a gun pointed directly at her. Shit! The pain of her broken wrist had driven the reality of her situation into her. She had no desire to see how it felt to be shot. And what if she died? She'd always heard if you die in a dream, you die in real life. Brate had no interest in testing that theory.
"Jim Ellison Jim Ellison Jim Ellison Jim Ellison," she mumbled, hoping the sentinel would somehow hear her.
"Shut up!" snapped the man, waving his gun in her face. "You and I are going for a little walk. Up," he ordered.
Grabbing her arm, the gunman forced Brate to get off the table and move toward the door. "Keep quiet or else."
"Or else, what? You'll shoot me?" She decided to stay silent when a gun was jabbed into her ribs. The scene from Terminator 2 flashed in her head: the one where the guard with the broken wrist used the cast as a weapon to smash into Arnold's face. Brate looked down at her own wrist. Nope, don't think so. She closed her eyes and prayed to whatever gods she thought would listen.
Alan Avery pushed the woman out the door, intending on taking her to the roof of the hospital and throwing her off. As soon as Brate crossed the threshold, she was yanked to one side as a gun was shoved in the face of her captor.
"I think you should release the girl... now." Jim's face showed no compassion, no patience.
Alan did the smartest thing in his criminal life: he relaxed his left hand, freeing his captive, and then his right, relinquishing his weapon.
"Good, now turn around and get up against that wall." Avery complied and the detective cuffed him and read the man his rights.
Brate realized she was okay and shock set in. She started shaking and leaned against the wall to regain her composure. Blair was next to her, supporting her, and rubbing her shoulder. "Are you okay?" the anthropologist asked, blue eyes showing concern.
"As soon as my heart starts again, I will be," Brate shakily replied. She smiled weakly. "Thanks."
"We were on our way to get you when Jim heard his name being called."
"I was hoping that would happen."
"How do you know about that anyway?"
"I already told you. I watch your show."
"You do realize how insane that sounds?"
"I can't help it. Would you rather believe that I'm psychic?"
"It would make more sense."
"Okay, then listen up. Stay away from a blonde named Alex; she'll cause nothing but trouble. And please be half as smart as you seem and don't leave your dissertation easily accessible. And for God's sake, change it so Jim's name isn't on it!"
Blair stood there with his mouth open until Ellison walked up next to him with the prisoner in tow. "Close your mouth; you'll catch flies, Chief." He motioned to Brate's wrist. "That done?" She nodded. "Then you can come with us to the station. I'll call a black and white to pick him up while you sign out." The sentinel noticed his best friend was still in a daze. "You with us, Sandburg?"
Blair nodded slowly, bringing himself back to reality. "Um, yeah, fine. Let's go get your discharge papers, Brate."
"Cool. I am so ready to get out of here. I hate hospitals." She wrinkled her nose at Avery. "Now, more than ever."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Well, he spilled his guts," announced Ellison as he came into the squad room.
"Already?" Brate was disappointed. She'd hoped to see Jim's famous glare at work.
"That was awfully quick," Blair agreed.
"Apparently he doesn't feel much loyalty to the guy who hired him."
"So, who was it?" Blair asked.
"Man by the name of Henry Forkendorfer. We're having him picked up now."
"Apparently, the victim stole his Eggo years before when they were in school together. He's been planning his revenge ever since. He met up with Avery and offered him five thousand to do it."
"You are shitting me." Now Brate was outraged. What an stupid plot; it was worse than Spock's Brain. "I went through all this because of someone's breakfast?!?"
"'Fraid so."
"This sucks. My first case and I get a broken wrist, the shooter caves, and the mastermind is an idiot! No way am I telling my friends about this."
"Uh, sorry?" Jim had no idea what he was apologizing for, but thought it was best not to upset a crazy person.
"I guess it's not your fault, but the writers have definitely fallen down on the job for this one." She shrugged, and looked between the two men. "So, what's next?"
"We have your statement, so as soon as Forkendorfer is in custody, you can leave."
"But I don't want to. Can't I hang around a little more?"
"No." Jim spoke before Blair had a chance to. He was uncomfortable around her, since she knew he was a sentinel, and seemed to be a tad insane. "Chief, why don't you take her into the lounge until she can go?"
"All right. Come this way, Brate."
She followed him down the hall and into the break room. He motioned to the couch. "Why don't you take a load off. You said you were tired."
"But what if I fall asleep?"
"Don't worry, as soon as they bring in Forkendorfer, I'll come wake you up."
"Promise?"
"Cross my heart." Blair made the motion with his hand.
"I will, but remember, you promised." She sat down on the couch, leaned back, and closed her eyes. Brate tried to stay awake as long as possible, but it was a losing battle. Too many hours at work coupled with too much excitement here forced her mind and body to shut down for some much-needed rest.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Brate woke up to find herself stretched out on her couch, with some infomercial playing on the TV. "Jeez Louise, I have got to stop eating chocolate before I fall asleep." She went to wipe her eyes and damn near gave herself a concussion.
She had a cast on her wrist.
Looking at the plaster attachment, she wondered aloud, "Okay, how the hell am I gonna explain this at work tomorrow?"
The End
