If Pet Fly, UPN and Paramount, the rightful owners of The Sentinel and all related characters, did their creation justice and gave us the stories we really wanted, then we wouldn't be forced to create these totally illegal, but completely harmless non-profit expressions of creativity to fill out weekly smarm quota, now would we? Go ahead and sue me, I live off scholarships. What do you think you're gonna get? Rated: G Archive: Yes Oddly enough, this story, which was supposed to be a glorified missing scene, is actually longer than most of the stories I've written so far. Go figure. Tell me if this is what you wanted. Feedback and comments wanted at majik6@geocities.com And before you kill me: Yes, there's more. ________ What Might Have Been: Emergence Detective James Ellison stifled a sigh as he set down the binoculars. His most recent sweep of the building had revealed exactly what the other ten thousand had - nothing. The Switchman would be here soon though. He knew it. He eased down to a kneeling position and turned to check the water he had boiling on the stove. Simon had been surprised when Ellison had arranged to stay on the stakeout round the clock for nearly a week, but in the end he had come through, arranging for all the supplies Jim would need. Even if he had muttered about 'lone-wolf military types' and alternated between rolling his eyes at the ceiling and grimacing at Jim when he'd thought the detective wasn't looking. A rumbling sound startled Ellison and he looked around for a moment, trying to place it. His eyes caught the pot of boiling water and he stared. He couldn't be hearing *that.* It wasn't possible. Yet... The radio squawked and he shook his head, the rumbling sound fading away. He gave the water one last uncertain look before reaching for the radio. "Ellison." Finally. The suspect was sighted. Red Jeep Wrangler, heading in his direction. Ellison checked his weapon and carefully made his way closer to the road. The roar of a engine blasted in his ears and he winced as the sudden sound assaulted his ears. He pulled his gun, aiming at the road, but froze in confusion as he realized there was nothing there to see. The sound faded into nothingness, leaving him staring at the road. The sound of another engine reached him and he watched the road warily. He didn't know whether to be relieved or not when he saw the red Wrangler coming his way. Time for that later. Ellison shook his head as he headed after the Jeep toward the building. Right now he had a killer to catch. **** "This was a mess." "No kidding, Simon." Jim forced himself not to snap as he responded to his captain's off-had comment. He surveyed the destroyed building, leveled by an explosion that had taken a police officer with it, and injured two others. "The Switchman's a cop killer now." "All the more reason to catch her," Simon Banks replied flatly. "Tell me what happened here, Jim." "I lost her," Jim said disgustedly. "The Switchman got away on a motorcycle. I almost managed to stop her, but I lost my grip and fell. She got away." "And the building?" Simon gestured at the ruined piles of debris. "Another bomb?" Jim nodded. "It was under the building. We found a trapdoor and spotted the device." "One of the SWAT guys said something about you *smelling* the bomb?" Simon glanced at him skeptically. "Tell me you have an explanation for that one, Jim." "I smelled the gasoline," Jim explained. "I found the trapdoor in the area where the scent was strongest." Simon tapped his cigar against his leg. "The press is going to have a field day with this one." "They aren't already?" Jim asked wryly. "There hasn't been a news story like this in Cascade in years." "And it's going to get worse when they find out that the Switchman seems to have a personal beef with you," Simon pointed out. "Yeah," Jim said softly. "I just wish we knew why." Simon fished a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigar. "We will, Jim. We are going to find the sick son of a bitch and put a stop to this before anyone else gets killed." "I hope you're right, sir." Jim grimaced at the smell of the cigar, and for an instant thought he would be sick. "Jeez, Simon. New brand?" "Nope. Same stuff as always. Why?" Simon glanced at him curiously. As quickly as it had hit him, the nausea passed, and Jim blinked. "No reason. We done here?" "Yeah. Call it a day, Jim. Good work." Jim thought somberly. **** "Maybe if you'd kissed me like that before, we'd still be married." Jim watched, more than slightly stunned at his own behavior, as Carolyn - his *very* ex-wife - walked away. More than a year had passed since their divorce, during which time they hadn't done anything so personal as get a cup of coffee together, and here they were making out in the street like a couple of teenagers? Okay, so it wasn't like that, not really, and admittedly, he *had* been the one to make the first move and there hadn't been any emotion behind it, not really, it had just been the most *sensual* kiss of his entire life, but still... What *was* that? He sighed and rubbed a hand across his forehead. First his temper tantrum in the restaurant, now this. He didn't care what Simon said, there was something wrong with him. **** He'd almost managed to forget how much he hated doctors. And medical exams. He *really* hated medical exams. It had been almost four years since he'd needed anything beyond the department physical - except for the time he got shot, but that was hardly the same thing. Ellison fought back a sigh as the nurse told him he could finish dressing. He knew they wouldn't find anything. Just like the last one hadn't. Just like *he* couldn't. Nothing had happened since his little blowup in the restaurant the night before, and he was almost willing to believe it was nothing more than a severe dislike for paprika. Maybe a chunk of the spice had gotten into his food or something, and that's why Carolyn hadn't noticed anything when she tried some. But that didn't explain the boiling water, or hearing the Jeep long before he should have, or smelling that damned bomb for God's sake. Then Simon's cigar - they hadn't bothered him once in four years, why would they start now? And then the kiss with Carolyn... Hell, she was right, if they had kissed like that when they were married they probably would still be together. There had just been so much more *feeling* to it. More sensuality. No love though. Nothing new *there.* He tucked in his shirt and began tying his shoes. God, he really was going to drive himself crazy if he kept obsessing over this. There was a light knock on the door and it opened to reveal a heavyset man, shorter than Jim, and a few years older. He wore one of those white coats that Jim knew were specifically designed to make patients feel like lab experiments. His name tag read "Dr. McCoy". The look on his face said they had found nothing. It was enough to make a man question his sanity. Maybe he should be seeing a psychiatrist. **** Ellison growled at the pile of paperwork covering his desk. Over the last couple of weeks he had really let this stuff pile up, and he was finally going to have to do something about it. In the face of everything that was going on, a quiet afternoon at his desk was the last thing he wanted. He needed to get out, to do something were he wouldn't have the time to think about what was going on with him, where he wouldn't have the time to wonder if he wasn't going nuts. Technically he wasn't even supposed to be at the precinct - he'd certainly made a big enough fuss about getting the time off. But what else was there for him to do? There was no medical explanation, and right now work was the only thing he had going for him. "Ellison!" Thank God. "Simon? What is it?" "We've got another of the Switchman's little presents," Banks told him. "You're with me. Let's go." Jim followed without a second's hesitation. The drive over was silent, except for the occasional comments over the radio as Simon communicated with the bomb squad. "They've disarmed it," he told Ellison tersely. "Looks like it's definitely the Switchman The site of the bomb wasn't far from the precinct, and they arrived in just moments. Ellison and Banks both headed toward Joel Taggart, captain of the bomb squad, and Carolyn Plummer Chief Forensics officer. They two chiefs stood together, deep in conversation. They both looked up at Bank's arrival. Ellison stood a short distance away, listening as they discussed the details of the incident. A strange scent caught his attention, and he blanked out the conversation as he concentrated on the scent. It was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it. He spotted two members of the forensics team transferring the disarmed bomb out of the bomb, and it struck him. He was smelling the chemicals from the bomb. Okay, no problem then. That was to be expected. Nothing strange at all. The whole place probably stank of the stuff. Right. He shook his head and tried instead to concentrate on the scent. Something wasn't right about it. The dismantled bomb was in the building to his left... the pieces were being moved to the truck behind him... So why was the smell of chemicals coming from the building to his right? "Carolyn?" he called. "Did you check for other bombs nearby?" "Of course we did," she replied. "We ran a sound sweep first thing. There was no sign of anything else." "I think there is," Jim said. "This isn't the Switchman's style. We didn't find the other bombs before they went off. Why this one?" Carolyn crossed her arms. "It's about time the Switchman made a mistake." "Maybe," Jim mused. "But I really think this was a distraction." Banks glanced at him curiously. "What are you thinking, Jim?" That building, there," Jim pointed to the one he'd noticed the scent coming from. "I really think we ought to check it out." Carolyn looked ready to argue, but Banks cut it off. "All right. Plummer, Taggart, I want you two and your teams to make a complete search oft he building. You find anything, let me know immediately. Get to it. Ellison, I want to talk to you." Joel and Carolyn moved off, gathering their teams while Banks moved off to the side, clearly meaning for Jim to follow him. "I want the full story now, Ellison. Does this have something to do with what we talked about earlier?" "Yes, sir," Jim admitted. "I know you think I'm overreacting, Simon, but there is something going on that I just can't explain. I'm hearing things that I shouldn't, seeing things no one should be able to see. You know that bomb I spotted yesterday? It was twenty feet away in a pitch black crawl space. *How did I see that?*" Ellison ran a hand over his crewcut, frustration evident on his face. "Simon, either my senses have been somehow enhanced, or I'm going completely insane. Frankly, I'm not sure which would be worse at this point." "Why do you think the Switchman planted a bomb in that building?" Simon asked quietly. "Why *that* building and not any of the others?" "I can smell the chemicals, Simon. And they're not coming from the bomb we've already found. They're coming from that building." The searching gaze Simon fixed him with was interrupted when the building went up in a ball of flame. Banks flinched, and instinctively covered his face with his arm. He turned to make sure Jim was all right, and was shocked to see his detective collapse to his knees, hands pressed against his ears, and face contorted in agony. **** "Nobody was killed," Simon told him absently. "Taggart and Plummer hadn't moved in to begin the search yet, so there wasn't anyone in the building. One of the bomb squad was a little too close when the place went up and ended up with a wrenched shoulder, but other than that, nothing. We were damned lucky." Banks and Ellison were alone in the office. It was late, most of Major Crimes was off-duty now. It was the perfect time to discuss a touchy subject with his often- volatile detective. Ellison stood at the window, staring outside, for all appearances ignoring his superior, but Banks knew better. Ellison didn't ignore *anything.* He was just waiting for the ball to drop. "Jim," Simon began, "I want you to tell me everything." He didn't say anything else. It was in Jim's court now. "It started the last day I was on stake-out." Slowly, over the next hour, the entire story came out. Ellison gave his superior all the details of his episodes, the fruitless visit to the specialist. "It's getting worse, Simon," Jim said quietly. "I don't know what I'm going to do about this. The explosion today - it *hurt,* Simon. Like ice picks driving through my head. If this keeps up I'm going to be useless as a cop. What happens when my hearing goes out of control again, and someone fires a gun? Or a car backfires. Christ, Simon, how the hell am I supposed to do my job?" "We'll find a way, Jim," Simon said confidently. "I promise you, we'll find a way." "I hope so, Simon. God, I hope so." **** "Today I bought my ticket. Tomorrow I ride to the end of the line." Three people stood around Banks' office, examining the message left by the Switchman. "I get the feeling she's trying to tell us something," Carolyn said. "Like if we knew what she meant it would all be clear." "Sounds pretty final to me," Jim volunteered. "You think she's planning to end it?" Banks asked. Carolyn sighed. "It certainly sounds like it, doesn't it? Maybe she's getting tired of this game she's playing." "Let's hope not," Banks said grimly. "If she's going out, she'll do her best to make sure she takes a lot of people with her." "Captain Banks!" A young officer burst into the office. "A woman claiming to be the Switchman is on line four. She wants to talk to Ellison!" Banks grabbed the phone, putting it on speaker. "Hello?" /Captain Banks? I want to talk with Ellison./ Banks glanced at Ellison quickly, gesturing for him to stay silent. "He's not here. I'm afraid you're going to have to deal with me." /I have a bus full of people, ready to blow! Now put Ellison on the damn phone!/ Banks glowered, but nodded to Ellison. "I'm here." /So how's it feel, Ellison?/ The Switchman's voice had been furious, desperate, but now it was taunting. /How does it feel to know you couldn't catch me? How's it feel to know people are going to die because you couldn't?/ "Why are you doing this?" Jim asked. "What are you trying to do?" /You had this coming, Ellison! Everyone thought you were a hero, but you left them to die! You left my father to die in that jungle. If it hadn't been for you, he would have been there for me! He wouldn't have left me alone!/ She paused, and they heard a few deep breaths as she tried to calm down. /But this time everyone's going to know the truth. Everyone's going to know that you're not a hero. When I blow this bus and send it into the water, everyone will know that you're a killer./ "I didn't leave my team to die, Veronica," Jim said softly. "I did everything I could to save your father." Banks and Carolyn stared at him in surprise, but he didn't tell them anything, waiting to see what the Switchman would do. /I thought you'd have figured it out by now,/ Veronica said calmly. /And you can say whatever you want. I know the truth./ /But,/ she continued, /I'm going to do you a favor. I'm going to give you the chance you never gave my father. I'm going to give you the chance to stop me one last time. Find me detective. Find me, and stop me and no one else has to die./ The connection was broken and replaced by the dialtone. "Christ," Carolyn muttered. "She's nuts." "Did we get a trace on that call?" Simon demanded. "Sorry, sir," the same young officer replied. "She was calling from a cell phone." "How do you know her?" Carolyn demanded. "You called her Veronica." "Her father was a member of my team in Peru," Jim told her sadly. "Her name is Veronica Sarris. How soon can we get a background on her?" "Immediately," Banks growled. "Turner, get in here!" Carolyn ignored everyone else as Simon began barking orders to track down anything they could on Veronica Sarris. "Jim, are you going to be all right?" He met her eyes, but didn't say anything. "I'll be fine, Carolyn," he finally said. "How long do you think she'll give us to find her?" "Not long," Carolyn said firmly, realizing that now was not the time to discuss Jim's emotional state. "We'll be dealing with a *very* short deadline. She knows you know who she is, and she expects you to put it all together easily. She's not going to wait long." Jim looked over to where a frantic search through computer records was taking place. "I have a bad feeling that you're right, Carolyn." It took less time than Jim had expected to track down Veronica Sarris. "She's a tour guide," Turner had reported. "I checked with her boss. She's taking a tour out right now." "A tour?" Jim interrupted. "Like on a bus?" "Exactly," Turner confirmed. "That explains the busload of people," Banks said disgustedly. "What are you thinking, Jim?" "Can we get the route her tour was supposed to take?" "Already did, sir," Turner informed him. "I outlined the route the tour was supposed to go on." "You don't think she actually stuck to the route, do you, Jim?" Carolyn asked. "No, but something she said..." Jim traced the route on the map with is finger. "How long ago did the tour leave?" "Ten minutes," Turned supplied. "Give or take." "Here," Jim said, tapping a finger against the map. "There's a bridge under construction right here. It's not far off the tour. Remember what she said about sending the bus into the water? I think she's heading here." "How long will it take her to get there?" Simon demanded. "She'll be there in maybe ten minutes. If we move now we can catch her." "Do it," Simon ordered. "I want everyone in the area down there. Call the paramedics and the bomb squad. Ellison, come with me! Move people!" **** "Brown and Ryf say the bus just passed them," Simon said tersely. "Take a left up here," Jim ordered. "Then straight for three blocks. If we're lucky we'll intersect her there." Simon took the corner at practically full speed, siren blaring, hand on horn to scatter pedestrians. They shot down the road. "There!" Jim shouted. "She just went through the intersection!" Simon didn't say anything, didn't ask if he was sure, even though Jim knew that it should have been next to impossible for him to see that bus. He just stepped on the gas. "Keep an eye on her," Banks ordered. "Let me know if she heads off course." Jim grimaced as Simon took another fast corner, holding onto the dashboard for balance. He peered through the windshield, a little scared at how easy it was to find a bus that should have been out of sight - and in detail like it was only a few feet away. He pushed the worry away and concentrated on watching the bus. "She's heading for the bridge, Simon. Just like we thought." "Maybe we'll finally get a break on this case," Simon scowled. "Let's just hope she was serious about giving you a chance to stop her." "I don't know, Simon," Jim said doubtfully. "She's done a good job of staying ahead of us so far. And she was pretty determined to make sure my reputation suffers for this. I don't think she's going to make anything easy for us." "I hope you're wrong," Simon muttered. "She's turning left. Three blocks ahead." "Right." Simon shook his head. "Is there anyone closer to the bridge than we are?" "I don't think so, sir. There was a disturbance on Dale, weapons fired. Most of the units had responded. There wasn't anyone left over here. We're probably closer than any one else." "Great. Just great." Jim nodded grimly. "She's heading straight, sir. We're catching up, too. Only about two blocks behind right now." He grimaced slightly as his head began to throb. Fantastic. His senses go crazy on him, then give him migraines whenever he tried to use them to his advantage. Figured. His vision blurred and he blinked, shaking his head a few times to clear his vision. He refocused on the bus, trying to block out everything else, all other distractions. His eyes fastened onto the bus... and everything else faded away... **** "Jim?" "Ellison?" Simon risked a glance sideways at his detective. Ellison was staring out into space, his eyes strangely vacant. "Jim!" "Ellison, snap out of it!" The detective didn't so much as blink. Simon took one hand away from the steering wheel and grabbed Ellison's shoulder. "Damnit, Jim! I need you to track that bus!" Ellison's eyes remained wide and unblinking. Simon pressed his free hand against Jim's chest, to make sure he was breathing. He wasn't. "Shit!" Simon slammed on the breaks, pulling the car off the road. Quickly, he radioed the other pursuit vehicles, informing them of his problem and ordering them to continue after the bus, then demanded an ambulance be sent to his position immediately. "Christ, Jim," Simon muttered as he leaned over the seat to check on his friend. "You're really falling apart lately, aren't you?" Ellison still wasn't breathing, so Simon began CPR. The ambulance arrived in only minutes - probably one of the ones being held ready in case the Switchman blew the bus. They took over from Simon, and began loading the detective into the back of the ambulance. "He's still got a pulse," one of the medics told Banks. "We're going to get him breathing again, then find out what caused it. Are you going to meet us at the hospital?" "No," Banks said regretfully. "We're in the middle of an operation. I'll arrange for his ex-wife to meet him there and handle the admissions and insurance issues." Simon paused beside his car, watching the ambulance speed away. "We'll find out what this is, Jim," he promised. "You just have to hang on until we do." From several blocks away, he heard the sound of an explosion. end