I do not own the Sentinel. This is just for fun.

A/N: Hi! This is an edited version of the original story which was posted a number of years ago. I'll be replacing the chapters in this story with the edited versions as I go through them. I'm currently most of the way through writing a sequel and wanted to make sure the original story and sequel fit so I took it as a chance to practice my editing and revision skills (editing is a skill in and of itself) while at the same time posting this story to my new AO3 account. You'll be able to tell which chapters have been replaced with the new version because I will put the "edited date" at the top of each chapter. The bulk of the story will remain the same, just details and little things will be tweaked to ensure continuity. If you're reading it for the first time, I hope you enjoy and if you're revisiting it thanks for coming back!

Jim's Secret

By Random Flyer

Edited: 1 Feb 2019

Chapter 1

Jim took one last sweep of his apartment before shutting and locking the door with a dull thud. A place for everything and everything in its place, he'd checked several times before leaving to make sure that nothing was out of order, and everything neat and tidy for any observers to accidentally wander into his home. Then, he ensured the door was locked several times to prevent those strangers from wandering anywhere and seeing for themselves the pristine condition of his loft. He was a meticulous man by nature but the habit also came from necessity and long standing practice.

Jim Ellison had a secret: he was a Sentinel. At least five of his senses were enhanced beyond the typical abilities of humans. He wasn't sure how strong or talented a Sentinel he was, he'd never been tested. He didn't know if he possessed an enhanced sixth sense like some sentinels did. He didn't even know if his career choice as a Cascade police detective was driven by the need and desire to protect others that was supposedly innate to the Sentinel character or if it was just him, Jim Ellison, that chose his own destiny. He hoped it was the latter.

Jim headed down the stairs with a swift, careful tread that left little echo in his wake and headed out to his truck in the street. From the driver's seat, he threw a brief glance back up to his loft window before turning back to the street and pulling out into traffic. It was still early in the morning and there were few cars on the road as he drove to the station. He made it a habit to get to work as early as possible and avoid morning rush hour traffic. As a Sentinel, he had no professional training and while he could usually control his senses, he tried to avoid any overwhelming situations if at all possible. A zone out or sensory spike would be a worse giveaway than the white noise generators, blackout curtains, dimmed lighting, and organic food in his apartment.

In all honesty, Jim didn't know much about being a Sentinel. True, there was information and institutions out there to help Sentinels in all stages of their abilities. He'd even discreetly looked over some of the materials when he first started to notice his talents several years before, but that was all he did. Jim didn't want to attract attention to himself so his inquiries were vague and brief. He couldn't afford for anyone to notice his interest and then notice him. As a result, Jim knew exactly two things for certain about the subject. One: that he was a Sentinel, and two: that he didn't want to be.

The background Jim learned from reading some of the pamphlets only confirmed his initial gut reaction to hold his secret close. Sentinels were rare and growing rarer with each year. Each year, fewer potentials were born, fewer developed their senses, and more seemed to die. The number of potential Guides born and maturing stayed the same and what once was a relatively even number had long since skewed with too many Guides and not enough Sentinels to go around. The Guides couldn't explain it. As a result, institutions appeared to address the issue, meant to provide training and medical care as well as match Sentinels with appropriate Guides. At least, that 's what they advertised in the brochure. The sense Jim got from news clips, commercials, and the few Sentinels and Guides he'd seen walking around was one of more control than help and guidance. Sentinel preservation groups were more and more desperate to reverse the declining Sentinel numbers and Jim did not trust desperate people.

Jim pulled around the corner to the police station. As he entered the parking garage, he noticed an official-looking van idling in one of the front parking spaces. Printed on the side of the van was the acronym GSC in bold. Jim recognized the logo for the Guide and Sentinel Center, one of the premier research and education institutions for Sentinel studies in the northwestern United States, perhaps the entire country.

Eyes narrowed, Jim's gaze lingered on the van as his truck rolled past. He took a steadying breath as he pulled into his own spot. The presence of some representatives from the GSC would add an additional layer of strain to the day, but Jim had no doubt he could evade detection. After all, no one expected a Sentinel to hide their abilities. Jim sometimes wondered how many other Sentinels were out there, pretending to be normal, hiding in plain sight. Probably more than anyone realized, but Jim knew better than to ask and expose them all to detection.

Pulling into his parking space, Jim killed the engine. He took in a deep breath and held it for a moment, preparing himself for the day to come and centering his senses as best he could. If the department was hosting a group of Guides he was going to have to be extra careful. After running through a basic relaxation technique he'd found on the internet, he opened his eyes and climbed out of the truck.

The garage was almost deserted as it was every morning when Jim arrived. He stepped onto the elevator and pushed for the seventh floor. Just as the doors were closing a voice called out to hold the elevator and he obliged by sticking a hand between the doors.

The man that came running up to the doors was out of breath but smiling. His long curly hair was everywhere and his clothes were a little disheveled as he jumped into the car with Ellison.

"Hey thanks, man," the stranger said with another bright smile.

He was shorter than Ellison and carried a beaten backpack over one shoulder. Jim's first impression was college student. There was something more to the man, though. It was a gut feeling vaguely reminiscent of something described in brochures he'd read. Jim revised his original assessment from student to Guide. Well crap.

"Don't worry about it," Jim said, being sure to keep his face expressionless and forcing himself to focus on the movement of the elevator rather than the Guide standing next to him. "What floor do you need?"

"Seven, Major Crimes. Oh hey, you've already got it pushed, that's great!" The man bounced on his toes as the doors dinged closed. "You a detective up there?"

Jim grunted an affirmative and shifted his feet so he was on the other side of the elevator. Even if the guy hadn't been a Guide, his enthusiasm would have been wearing on Jim's touchy senses. As it was the elevator wasn't big enough for the two of them.

The near non-answer didn't seem to dissuade the younger man,. He just shifted his hold on his back pack strap and continued. "I'm going to be working with you all up there for the next couple of weeks. Hi, I'm Blair Sandburg." Sandburg stuck his hand out for Jim, an expectant look on his face.

Jim looked at the outstretched hand for a moment before cautiously taking it, "Jim Ellison."

Dropping the hand as quickly as possible, Jim put all his focus in pushing everything back to normal levels. Jim knew even less about Guides than he did about Sentinels. He wasn't sure if Guides could sense Sentinels with whatever talents they had, the way Sentinels could supposedly sense Guides. Personally, Jim had been in the same room as Guides before and they always seemed like normal people. This was the first time he sensed anything different and even now it was just a vague impression. Still, he didn't want to take any chances. This was the closest he had probably ever been to a Guide and it was already wreaking havoc on his senses. Jim suddenly felt a great pang of sympathy for a criminal trying to ignore a cop standing right next to them.

Hopefully, he wasn't acting too strange to draw the Guide's notice. Though, from the look Sandburg gave him after the hand shake Jim wasn't so sure how well he had accomplished it. This guy was going to be around for a couple of weeks? Double crap, Jim thought to himself. Maybe it was time to use those days of leave he had been saving.

Luckily, the elevator came to a stop and the doors dinged open, giving him an avenue of escape. He hurried to his desk, leaving the younger man to find his own way to Captain Banks's office. He could feel Sandburg's eyes on him but was determined to ignore the Guide's existence from that moment onward. With any luck, Sandburg would get assigned to something that had absolutely nothing to do with Jim.

TBC...