The Sentinel and all related characters are the property of Pet 
Fly Productions, Paramount and UPN. No copyright 
infringement is intended. No profit is being made. So why 
and I writing this? Because TV never shows the really good 
stuff! 
 
This story is the property of the author. 
 
This is the most recent of my 'A Blessed Protector's Thoughts 
on...' series. The rest can be found on my homepage. 
________ 
 
A Blessed Protector's Thoughts on Brother's Keeper 
 
 
 
Ugh. If I never smell those cigars again it'll be way too soon. 
One day I'll have to ask Simon how he stands them. 
 
Blair's *still* hyper. It's three in the damned morning, we've 
spent the day tracking down a killer, and he's hyper! He's 
practically dancing up the stairs to the loft. I'm caonvinced 
that one day I'll find a battery stuck in his back, like in those 
Duracell commercials. 
 
To be honest, I know why he's excited. Same reason as me, 
although we have slightly different takes on it. 
 
Steven. 
 
How long has it been since I've seen my brother? Fifteen years 
is what I told Blair, but what I didn't mention was that fifteen 
years ago I saw my brother for about twenty minutes before 
my flight left. Truth be told, I hadn't spent any real amount of 
time with Steven since  before I left for college. Before 
tonight we hadn't really spoken since the mess with the car 
and that business trip to- Where the hell was that anyway? 
 
Okay, okay. So it's been a while. 
 
He's not what I expected. Not that I really expected anything. 
Like I said, it's been fifteen years. But he seems like a pretty 
decent guy. Nice, easy to talk to. A little wrapped up in his 
work, maybe, but I'm hardly one to talk. He's a business type, 
probably likes golf, prefers watching sports to playing them 
and he's almost as energetic as Blair, in a toned-down, less 
focused sort of way. 
 
Yeah. He's annoying. 
 
"What's the grin for?" Blair asks as he unlocks the door. 
 
"Just thinking," I reply lightly. "I'm gonna hit the sack okay, 
Chief? Some of us have to work tomorrow." He makes a face 
and heads for his room. "Do me a favor and make sure I don't 
oversleep?" 
 
"Sure, Jim. 'Night." 
 
"Good night, Chief." I take the steps two at a time, the 
prospect of sleep making the effort more than worth it. I 
undress quickly and pull on a t-shirt and sweat pants and all 
but dive into bed. My head has just hit the pillow when I 
realize I didn't bother to brush my teeth or anything. I can't 
work up any real concern about it though. I guess I'm not 
completely anal. Or maybe I'm just really tired. 
 
Not that I don't deserve a good night's sleep after the past 
couple of days. Reunited with my long lost brother, which, 
incidently, brings up some rather painful memories from my 
childhood -- I still can't believe I told Blair about that. I've 
never told anyone about that -- just in time to find out that 
aforementioned little brother is a suspect in a murder 
investigtion and may be responsible for a number of other 
crimes including embezzlement. 
 
As if that's not enough, I've got to deal with Blair going hyper 
about the possibility of Steven having the Sentinel genes, and 
Simon and the guys finding yet *another* reason to give my 
partner a hard time, although they were pretty nice about it 
this time. Probably because he made them a lot of money. 
And then there was that little chase scene to catch the real 
killer. My butt is still sore. 
 
I stretch and adjust my hearing to catch the sounds from the 
rest of the loft. Everything sounds fine. Only two heartbeats; 
mine, and then Blair's, already slowing with sleep. Blair 
moves suddenly with a muffled curse and I tune in a little 
more, to make sure nothing's wrong. There's a sound; flesh on 
plastic, buttons being pressed. He's setting the alarm clock. 
Right, I asked him to make sure I woke up on time. I smile in 
the darkness and tone down my hearing again. How many 
people would get up at seven in the morning after a night like 
we've had, just to make sure a friend didn't oversleep? 
Admittedly, he doesn't actually have to get up, the alarm will 
wake me fine. I can't use my own alarm anymore, when I first 
wake up I'm usually very sensitive to sounds and bright 
lights; an alarm clock or radio alarm would be hell on my 
sensitive ears. From a floor away, and set on low volume, 
Blair's alarm is just loud enough to wake me, and quiet 
enough not to be painful. 
 
Senses. The entire drive home Blair was trying to convince 
me to approach Steven about the Sentinel senses. I don't like 
the idea, to be perfectly honest I don't trust Steven with 
something like this. Little brother or not, I haven't seen him 
since he was a teenager. One night isn't enough for me to 
know what kind of a person he is. 
 
Trust. I guess that's what this is about then. I don't trust 
Steven. Hell, I was willing to convict him of murder if we 
hadn't found other evidence. I'm certainly not willing to tell 
him about my senses. If he ever starts screaming in pain 
because of squeaky door hinges, then I'll tell him. 
 
Of course, it might be nice if Steven did have the Sentinel 
genes. There would finally be someone who could understand 
what I'm experiencing. Oh, Blair *knows* from an academic 
stand point, and he knows my feelings and reactions to things 
better than I do, but he's never felt what I've felt, or seen what 
I've seen. No one has. It would be.. wonderful... to have 
someone to talk to who would understand exactly what I 
mean. 
 
Besides, maybe if he had two test subjects, Blair wouldn't 
keep nagging me about all those tests of his. 

Blair and Steven will probably get along pretty well, once 
they get to know each other. That would be nice. The brother 
by choice and the brother by blood. 

I chuckle into my pillow. I’m getting poetic. God, I have to 
get some sleep. 


 
 
end