Disclaimer: We do not own the Hardy Boys or any of the canon book characters, nor do we own the Sentinel or any of the canon television characters, and are making no monies from this story. Any Original Characters belong to the author(s). Co-written with Talefeathers of the HDA.

For those of you who are not familiar with The Sentinel's characters, we hope this will be a pleasant introduction to them for you. For those of you who are already acquainted with Blair, Jim, Simon and the others – enjoy! Trying to fit these four stories into two different story arcs [Hardy Boys and The Sentinel] just barely worked. Band of Brothers and Welcome to Cascade take place before September Song [Hardy universe] begins, and any time after The Perfect Partner [Sentinel universe]. Missing Persons happens right after Fanfare for June [Hardys]; A Matter of Public Record takes place any time between Death on the Fourth of July and February Flirtations [Hardys], and before Remodel and Rebuild [Sentinel].

The stories in the series were written in 2006 and 2007. Technology does not match today's levels. Nor does airport security!

Thank you, Sarai, for your continued support and comments.

Welcome to Cascade

A Sentinel/Hardy Boys Crossover Story

By EvergreenDreamweaver and Talefeathers

Chapter 11

"Wha' time...zit?" The Sentinel's slurred syllables were music to Blair Sandburg's ears. He'd been slouched in the bedside chair, waiting for longer than he cared to think about, to hear them – or something like them.

"It's about two a.m. How are you feeling?"

"Chief...?"

"It's me, buddy. How are you feeling?" Blair repeated, leaning a little closer and curling his hand about Ellison's.

"F-fuzzy."

"Whatever they gave you to knock you out really worked. I thought you'd be awake long before now."

"Hos...pital?"

Sandburg smiled. It was rare to see Jim so groggy; usually he woke up from anesthesia grouchy as all get-out, but pretty focused. This time he didn't seem cranky, but boy, was he out of it! It must be from the concussion on top of the anesthetic. "Yeah, Jim. You're in the hospital. You were shot. But you're going to be fine, just fine. You just need to rest for a few days, before you can go home. Do you remember what happened?" He didn't expect a positive answer to that one, but Jim sometimes had amazing recall.

Ellison was silent for a few moments, evidently searching through his memory. "Martin," he breathed, at last. "Loft." Suddenly his eyes flew open wide. "Daryl? Th' Hardy kids?" An abortive attempt to sit up made him flinch, and grunt with pain.

"Oh, you are so not going to try that again!" Blair was on his feet now, leaning over the bed rail and holding his partner down against the flat pillow. "You have to lie still, Jim, hear me?"

"Mmm-hmmm," Jim meekly agreed. "Lie still...I c'n do that. But – Daryl? Joe 'n' Frank?"

"They're fine. They went home with Simon a while ago, to get some sleep."

"Oh...okay." Ellison subsided and closed his eyes, but they abruptly flew open again. "Martin?" he asked anxiously.

"In custody – here in the hospital," Blair said grimly. "Courtesy of me and my trusty Sig-Sauer."

A slight smile wafted across the Sentinel's pale face. "Good f'r you."

"Any time," his Guide said. "Now, can you tell me where your dials are?"

Jim concentrated again, his brow furrowing under the bandage wrapped about his head. "Ever'thing's up high. Sev'ns...eights," he murmured at last.

"Let's do something about that. Concentrate on my voice, Jim. Let everything else go. Picture just one dial – for pain. You want to turn it down to three or four, right? It's at seven? Eight?"

"N-nine."

"Then start turning it down, one notch at a time. Nine...eight...seven...six – is it working? Yeah, good. Six...five...four. How's that?

"Better. Lot better." Ellison's features had lost their strained, tense cast. "Chief? You needta...go home. Rest...Please."

Blair smiled to himself. Blessed Protector – always my Blessed Protector, even when he's the one in the hospital bed... "After awhile I will. Now, the dial. Take it down one more, to three," he advised, and watched his partner's face relax even more. "Got it? Good. Let that one stay there. Now let's work on hearing..."

#####

"This is so awesome! I can't believe we're actually here!" Daryl Banks' face was nearly incandescent with joy as he gazed down at the concert stage in the Cascade Civic Auditorium. "Tickets to the concert, maybe – I could almost believe that – but this? Getting to be backstage all afternoon, and helping with setup? No WAY!"

Frank Hardy chuckled at his friend's enthusiasm. As he'd told Simon Banks, he and Joe had worked concert security before, but never for a group quite as big-name as Valhalla. Their setup, run-through in lieu of a dress rehearsal, sound checks – everything was done crisply and professionally, with little goofing off or messing around, although when they were done, the band members immediately reverted to the playful near-kids they'd been at the hotel.

Thor had thanked the Hardys and Daryl profusely for their part in apprehending Andrei Marchlewicz, and all of them had signed autographs on anything and everything the three boys offered. They also presented them with shirts which read 'Valhalla Staff.' Those shirts weren't for sale to the general public; if you weren't on staff to Valhalla, you did not have one of those shirts. The Hardys and Daryl Banks had put them on immediately, and worn them with pride.

Now it was half an hour until concert time, and they were busy, for ticket-holders had been let into the building thirty minutes before, and were milling about in the lobby, buying programs, Valhalla CDs and posters, shirts and hats and visors, pictures of white baby seals with huge dark eyes...you name it, Valhalla was marketing it.

Daryl, admitting he knew next to nothing about security, shadowed Frank. He might not know exactly what he was supposed to be doing, but he figured he could provide backup for the elder Hardy. Mostly they were patrolling the entrances to the auditorium itself and helping people find their seats; there were professional security teams and Simon Banks' crew from Major Crimes handling the outer doors. Andrei Marchlewicz might be in custody, but they were taking no chances. He might have had an accomplice. He might have had backup. He might have been replaced, by whoever had hired him in the first place. Better to be on the safe side.

Joe drifted near his brother and friend in a momentary lull. "Heard how Jim's doing?" he inquired of Daryl. They had stopped by the hospital earlier in the day, but Ellison had been asleep at the time, and Blair had – surprisingly – been away from his partner's side. A nurse told them that Detective Sandburg had reluctantly gone home to take a nap, but she expected him back after lunch. Unfortunately, the boys had needed to be at the auditorium after lunch, so they'd missed seeing either of the detectives.

"Yeah. Dad was there this afternoon. He said Jim was awake for a little while – and that Blair didn't look worried, which is a better way of measuring how Jim is anyway," Daryl laughed. "Apparently there's talk of sending him home tomorrow evening, if everything keeps on going well. We can visit him tomorrow, or wait until he's home. After all, you're going to be here until the end of next week!"

"Man, that is such good news!" Frank sighed. "I still feel guilty about him ending up in the hospital."

"He spends a lot of time there," Daryl said, his eyes twinkling. "He and Blair practically have reserved rooms. So don't blame yourself, Frank. He'd have probably ended up there anyhow."

"Sounds like Joe," the elder Hardy opined.

"Hey! Like you have room to talk!" Joe bristled. "I'm not in the hospital all that much!"

Before their argument could escalate further, one of the members of Valhalla's vast entourage scurried up to them. "There you are! Thor wondered if you two would like to do stage security during the concert," the young man said. "You'd be watching from the sides, mostly – ready to move out and intercept, if any fans try to get up on the stage with the band."

"Sure, sounds great!" Both Hardys nodded eager acceptance. They wouldn't get the whole front-view effect of the presentation that way, but they'd practically be onstage themselves!

"I'm going to go find my seat," Daryl grinned, pulling his fifth-row, center-section ticket from his pocket. "I'll catch you guys after the show!"

#####

"Getting tired? Want to sleep for awhile?" Blair queried anxiously, as Jim apathetically pushed away his dinner tray and reached for the button to lower the head of his bed.

"No...don't want to sleep. Just don't want any more of...that." Ellison eyed the contents of the tray with revulsion.

"It does look kinda unappetizing, doesn't it?" Blair surveyed his partner's meal dubiously.

"Next time you come, bring me something better to eat, huh?" the Sentinel pleaded.

"I won't need to," Sandburg said with a smile. "You'll be going home tomorrow anyway, if you behave yourself."

"There's still breakfast and lunch," Jim reminded him gloomily. "Are you going to let me starve, Sandburg?"

"Oh, my poor widdle starving Sentinel!"

Jim stared at him with as much warmth as he had previously given his dinner tray. "You are headed straight for hell, Sandburg," he growled.

Blair relented. "I'll see about bringing something for lunch, how's that? The sorts of things you want for breakfast wouldn't be good for you just yet."

Ellison was disappointed, but made the best of it. "I guess lunch is better than nothing." He brightened. "And I'll be home for dinner, right?"

"Very probably." Blair settled down in the chair at Jim's bedside and looked around the room. Although Jim had been in residence less than 24 hours, the place looked like a florist shop. Thor and the rest of Valhalla had sent so many flower arrangements of such enormous proportions that Jim had to keep his sense of smell dialed to a minimum, to avoid being overwhelmed by the fragrance of the flowers. They'd decided to take a couple of the arrangements home, but figured on donating the rest to other patients, when Jim checked out of the hospital.

"Did you ever get your chance to study Joe Hardy?" Jim asked now, surprising Blair no end. He'd resigned himself to the idea that Jim was going to avoid the whole topic forever. "Since I haven't been around to stop you?"

"That's 'observe,' Jim. Not study. Observe. And yes, I did. Both of them, yesterday when we were at the loft."

Ellison snorted a little. "Right. You only studied ME. Everybody else, you 'observe.' I can tell you right now that Frank's no Sentinel, Chief. I'd know, if he was." Bitter memories of Alex Barnes made him grimace guiltily. "You know I would."

"I agree," Blair concurred. "He's not. And as for Joe...well, I think Joe's the guide equivalent of those people with one or two enhanced senses I told you about when we first met. He's got just a touch of ability, that's all."

"Nothing like the real thing," Jim said quietly, and held out his hand to link his fingers with his partner's. "And you won't pester them, right?"

Blair, who was softly singing 'Ain't nothin' like the real thing, baby,' grinned. "I promise, I won't bother either of them any more! Subject closed. Okay?"

"Okay." Jim let his head roll gently to the side, and he stared moodily out the window. "I wonder how the concert is going?"

"Man, you didn't really want to see it...did you?" Blair marveled, surprised at Jim's wistful tone.

"I dunno...I sort of got used to their music when the kids kept playing that CD. It might have been kind of fun to see it live, Chief, that's all."

#####

To say that Valhalla's concert was a howling success would have been putting it mildly. The publicity they'd gotten from the fundraising reception – with the added fillip of an attempted assassination – had ensured that everyone in Cascade was aware that Thor and Valhalla were in town, and concert tickets had sold out within 90 minutes of the box-office opening.

And they aimed to please. Unlike some performers who used concerts to promote new material, Valhalla knew what their public wanted: the hits that had made them famous. They did them all, occasionally tossing in something new, but always reverting to the familiar music that the crowd knew and loved.

Frank and Joe watched from the wings, one on each side of the stage. They were close enough to hear the jokes cracked among the band members between numbers, to see the momentary panic on Mik Leinonen's face when one of his drumsticks snapped in half in the middle of a song. Close enough to get the full effect of costumes decorated with glittering sequins on velvet – and to crack up along with the others, when Loki's emerald-velvet jumpsuit started to split up the back seam after one particularly energetic leap. Undaunted, Loki merely faced the audience through the rest of the number, and made a quick exit-and-return, wearing a backup costume, when it finished.

Close enough to see the adoration in the eyes of the screaming teenagers – and older fans as well – both females and males, who surged as close to the stage as possible – which made the Hardys tense in anticipation of someone trying to climb up. But to their relief, no one did.

Finally, the last set was done – and everyone in the audience was well aware that one particular song had not been performed. A ripple of subdued excitement went through the crowd as Thor stepped to the microphone once again, the stage lights dimmed, and one spotlight focused on him. He spoke into the microphone, backed by a few soft notes from Sigurd's guitar:

"As you may know, our visit to Cascade has been a little unusual, even for us. We have some special thanks to extend to people who did their jobs and more, to keep us safe while we were here; two people in particular. Unfortunately, they aren't able to be here tonight. Detective Ellison of the Cascade Police Department was injured during the apprehension of a man who tried to assassinate me and several others, and he is currently hospitalized while he recovers from those injuries. Although this was originally written to illustrate how we ought to care for the little seals, it seemed to all of us—" he gestured to include the members of Valhalla, "that Detective Ellison and his partner, Detective Sandburg, were perfect examples of what a protector is... It is to them that we wish to dedicate this final song."

Thor stepped back, removing the microphone from its stand so he could move about the stage. The spots widened, revealing the rest of Valhalla, and the well-known introductory notes of Thor's signature song "Protect You," welled up.

"We'll protect you...keep you from harm...

Our eyes forever watching over you..."

The crowd was hushed, swaying along with the music, and many faces were wet with tears by the time the ballad came to an end.

###

"I've never seen anything like that, Frank! Thor had practically the whole audience in tears!"

"I know. Amazing, wasn't it? And look at this! Talk about a well-oiled machine! These guys sure know how to tear down and pack, don't they?"

Frank and Joe leaned against a wall backstage, watching the stagehands as they swiftly worked on striking the sets, packing the musical instruments and speakers – removing all traces of Thor and Valhalla. The band was moving on, leaving to board their charter jet directly from the auditorium, to travel to the next stop on their tour. There was no longer any need for the Hardys' services; they'd said their goodbyes, and were merely making this experience last as long as possible. Daryl was waiting for them in the lobby, along with his father.

"I'm sorry to see it end – but it was kinda tiring," Joe admitted with a chuckle. "Now maybe we can have a nice, peaceful rest of our vacation here!"

"I sure hope so." Frank straightened up, moving away from the wall reluctantly. "I guess we'd better go – Captain Banks has been awfully patient about this."

They were walking up the aisle towards the lobby exit doors when a voice hailed them from the stage.

"Frank! Joe! Wait a minute!"

It was Mikhael Leinonen, the drummer. No longer clad in his sequin-and-rhinestone-studded velvet jumpsuit, Mik looked once more like the young man they'd met in the hotel suite. He was waving a small rectangular box in one hand as he leaped down the stage steps and hurried up the aisle.

"The techs always record the concerts—" he panted, "and we asked for an extra copy. We'd like – if you could be so kind as to give it – we'd like Detective Sandburg and Detective Ellison to have it." He extended the box to Frank, who saw that it was, indeed, a video tape.

Frank smiled. He had a feeling that this gift was going to make at least one of those detectives very happy...and the other might not mind too much, either!

"We'll see they get it, Mik. Thank you – and thank the rest of the guys, too."

"MIK! Kjetil says to get a move on – the limo's here, and if you're not in it in three minutes, you're hitching to the airport!" Nils – or Loki – also now wearing jeans and t-shirt, beckoned frantically from the stage. "Come ON!"

With a quick, bright smile for the Hardy brothers, Mik Leinonen turned and sprinted for the stage. Loki waved and disappeared into the wings.

Joe and Frank exited the auditorium, the precious concert tape held tightly in Frank's hand.

#####

The phone buzzed on the polished desk and was once again picked up on the first ring.

"It seems our man has failed...abominably."

"So I gather from the report. Caught by a city detective and some teenagers. What a humiliating end to what was an illustrious career!"

"Well...what shall we do? Send someone else to intercept Valhalla in another city?"

"No...at this point we'd be throwing bad money after good. Let Thor beg for his money and play with his seals. Perhaps one will bite him, and he'll become disenchanted with them. It's not worth pursuing any longer."

The phone receiver was quietly replaced, and lights were extinguished as the office was vacated.

The End

For anyone who wished we could illustrate this story with pictures of the members of Valhalla, you can at least imagine Kjetil [Thor]. Just look at pictures of those elves in The Lord of the Rings movies with their long blonde hair and handsome faces, and you have a good idea of what Kjetil looks like.

The next story in the series is "Missing Persons".