Sentinel, Watcher, Warrior, Guide
by Laura Picken

Summary: Crossover with La Femme Nikita (USA, 1997-2001). The Sentinel secret is betrayed into the hands of the Section - can anyone survive the consequences?

Hi all! Since I started writing these things, I've often been as inspired by the works of other authors as I have by TS itself. In particular, this story was inspired by the work of DL Witherspoon. Several of the concepts you'll see in this story refer directly back to one or more of her TS or LFN stories (but, in case you were wondering, -not- to her TS/LFN crossover, Adaptations- this could actually be considered more of a tie-in to her LFN stories, Prodigy and Academy). If you get confused (hopefully you won't), go to her page and read her stuff first. Then come back and read this one! Oh, and archivists: please pay attention to the fact that this story has two different titles, one that's more appropriate to each universe. Depending on which universe you're archiving for, please use the corresponding title. Thanks!

Disclaimer: Don't own any of 'em. Never have, never will. Many thanks to DL Witherspoon for writing such great stuff (and for beta reading this story - jeez I'm spoiled...). Without her, this would be (pun intended) a whole 'nother story.

And now, on with the show...

Operations had to resist the urge to pace as he waited for his meeting to begin. Instead, he fiddled with the Sig Sauer P38 now sitting on his desk. First he cleaned it. Then he loaded it, popped one in the chamber, screwed on the silencer and waited. After a couple of minutes, he unloaded it, then loaded it again. Unscrewed the silencer, then screwed it back on again.

Contrary to popular belief, this was the part of the job he hated. Many thought he held no value for human life-a fact that simply was not true. If he held no value to human life, why would he work so hard to try and save millions of human lives every day? In fact, when it came to 'the dirty work', as he used to call it, he rarely wanted to do it himself. It was much easier to get someone else to do it.

Except this time. This time, the man who was about to walk into his office had driven him to such heights of aggravation that Operations felt compelled to be the one to watch the last moments of his life. When sixteen of Section's best men and women died because this man refused to follow an order, that was a risk that could no longer be tolerated.

Operations was drawn out of his thoughts by the arrival of the man in question. As that man sat down in front of Operations desk, Operations asked him, "Mr. Brackett, do you know why I have called you here this evening?"

Lee Brackett, ex-CIA agent and current Section operative, shook his head. "No sir, I don't..."

Casually, Operations picked up the gun from his desk, chambered a bullet, and removed the safety, watching with satisfaction, as the eyes of the unarmed man in front of him grew wide with horror. It was the first true emotion the man had shown since he was first recruited.

Smelling the fear in the air and seeing it in Lee Brackett's eyes, Operations leaned over the desk and stated simply, "You're here, Mr. Brackett, because I'm going to cancel you personally. But before I cancel you, I want you to know exactly -why- you are being canceled."

As Operations walked around to sit on the desk in front of the troublesome operative he began, "When we first took notice of you, Brackett, you intrigued us not simply because of your keen intellect, but because of your ruthlessness. You utilize whatever means necessary to accomplish your goal at any cost. Unfortunately, that is your greatest weakness as well." Leaning down to get in the man's face, Operations asked, "Would you like to know -why- that is, Mr. Brackett?"

Staring into the eyes of his would-be executioner, Lee was smart enough to be terrified, a fact that was evidenced by the growing lump the ex-CIA agent was feeling in his throat. Lee Brackett, who had never been speechless in his life, was, by this point, barely able to squeak out, "Why is that...Sir?"

Walking around to sit behind the desk once again, Operations propped his feet up and replied, "There is not a single operative in this organization who goes into a mission alone. Even if his only backup is someone sitting on point, there is -always- someone backing up each and every one of our operatives. So it would make sense that I would need good people, people I trust, to fill those roles, both in the field and on point, wouldn't you agree?"

As Brackett nervously nodded, Operations leaned in again and coolly continued, "So you see, Lee, the problem is that I find it absolutely impossible to see you ever being able to be trusted with protecting the lives of anyone but yourself. And that makes you dangerous. And that danger, Mr. Brackett, is unacceptable."

Standing up, Operations picked up the gun, aiming for the middle of Brackett's forehead. He was a microsecond away from pulling the trigger when Brackett stopped him. "Wait," exclaimed the younger man, "What if we can cut a deal?"

Operations simply gawked at the man before him, amazed by his level of arrogance. "What could you -possibly- have to bargain with, Brackett?"

"Information," replied Brackett, "On the ultimate weapon." He hadn't said a word about his past to this point because he figured he would simply be pegged for crazy, but now, what did he have to lose?

Brackett's temporary reprieve came as Operations rested his arm on the desk, his hand still covering the weapon. Operations was reluctant to do this, but it would be even worse if he let a piece of information slip out of his hands only to be discovered later by, say, Red Cell. Sighing, he asked, "What kind of weapon are we talking about here, Brackett?"

Brackett almost smiled. Finally, he had the man's attention. "What would you say if I told you that I know of a man who could hear your heart beating if you were standing on opposite sides of the street during Mardi Gras and the parade was passing between you? That he can see twice as far as your best sharpshooter? That he can pick up a heap of ashes and tell what burned and what set it on fire just by rubbing the ashes between his fingers? And that his abilities were perfectly natural, with no benefit of technology?"

Getting a good laugh out of the absurd tale Brackett was spinning, Operations decided to go along with the man, even though he was clearly delusional. "Oh really?" And just -who- would this gentleman be?"

Now Brackett actually -did- smile. If he could just make his way closer to that gun... He answered Operations' question, "The man's name is Detective James Ellison, and he works for the police department in Cascade, Washington. Oh, but if you grab him, you have to grab his partner, Blair Sandburg, along with him. Otherwise, Ellison's abilities will be of no use to you, and all you'll have on your hands is a babbling lunatic."

Operations joined in Brackett's smile. "Thanks, but no thanks, Brackett. I actually just got rid of one babbling lunatic."

"Really?" responded Brackett, trying to feign surprise, "And who would that be?"

Operations simply nodded and smiled again. "You."

With speed that spoke little of his age, the older man tightened his hold on the gun before Brackett could grab it, and in one swift move, ended the conversation by placing a bullet directly between the other man's eyes.

Before he called the cleanup crew, Operations looked across his desk at the late Lee Brackett and commented, "I will take your suggestion under advisement, though."

After cleaning up himself from the cancellation, Operations walked down the short corridor that separated his office from the empty briefing room, where Madeline was waiting for him. Noticing the strain on her old colleague's face, she asked, "So is it over?"

Operations nodded. "Brackett will no longer be a problem." Sitting in his chair at the head of the table, he had to resist the urge to laugh in disbelief as he remembered Brackett's last words. "The man was a sniveling wimp. Can you believe he started rambling on about a man with heightened senses?"

Madeline cocked a curious eyebrow at Operations' statement. This did not sound like Lee Brackett to her, even if he were under the stress of staring death in the face. "Really? What did he say?"

As Operations recounted every absurd detail of Brackett's last words, the profiler's mind worked quickly, piecing together every possibility for the late operative's motives. Reaching a conclusion, she calmly asked, "Would you like my opinion as to what was going through Brackett's mind when he said those things to you?"

Curious, but not surprised that Madeline actually -had- an opinion on the subject, Operations nodded. The profiler continued, "Brackett may simply have been trying to get the gun away from you, but he was also far too intelligent to try to concoct such a far-fetched story unless there was at least a grain of truth to it. I suggest we go back into his files and see if he had any contact with either a James Ellison or a Blair Sandburg. Heightened senses or not, they may be of some use to us."

Operations nodded just as Michael, Nikita, Birkoff and Walter walked in to be briefed on their current mission. He ordered Madeline, "Get back to me with what you find out."

Later that day, Madeline returned to the briefing room to find Operations waiting for her. Steel locking eyes with steel, Operations asked, "What do you have for me?"

Punching up backgrounds of Jim and Blair for Operations' perusal, Madeline replied, "Well, Ellison and Sandburg do exist-Ellison is the cop who finally got Brackett, but only after he tried to force Ellison and Sandburg to help him steal a top-secret spy plane. Both men are brilliant - Ellison in particular has a covert ops background."

Scrolling through the information, Operations asked, "And Sandburg?"

"Let's just say the man's background could only be described as...eclectic."

Operations mumbled, "Eclectic..." Out loud he asked Madeline, "And what about Brackett's nonsense about heightened senses? Any evidence of that?"

Madeline replied, "Only if you're looking for it. The evidence in Ellison's record could be interpreted any number of ways."

"Course of action?"

"I think both men would make excellent operatives."

Operations sighed, and looked up again at the pictures of the two men on the viewscreen. Sandburg, in particular, didn't fit his idea of what an operative should be like, but, then again, neither did Birkoff. Still, the man was useful at times...

"Very well. Bring them in."

Jim rolled his eyes, but resisted the urge to laugh at the lively conversation going on around him. True, it -seemed- like a good idea to bring Daryl along on their fishing trip even after Simon had to beg off due to work-related commitments. After all, the teen needed more time with strong male role models. And he and Blair got along very well. That was Jim's first mistake.

"Come on," groaned Blair, "I -can't- believe that you like that guy!"

"Why not?" responded Daryl. "His work is just as good Sam Cooke, maybe even better."

"Yeah," replied Blair, "You're only saying that because he's dead. Gee, maybe after I'm gone, maybe you'll start thinking of -me- as a cultural icon..."

After three hours of this type of argument, Jim's pounding headache overrode any opinion he could possibly have on the matter. He simply hoped he would be able to find some peace and quiet - and soon.

That headache led Jim to his second mistake: since the beat of the world music Blair had begged to play was pounding at his skull, Jim had turned his hearing down that he couldn't hear much of what was going on outside of the truck. Years later, when he looked back on the incident, Jim realized that if his hearing had been turned up and focused on his surroundings, then he might have had some clue - some indication that there was something wrong.

As it was, they never knew what hit them.

Walter was using this mission to test out a new experimental bomb - pressure- triggered and precisely calibrated to cause the truck to roll over without destroying it. The device worked like a charm: all three passengers, who (fortunately) were securely buckled into the truck, were unconscious, but survived the accident.

The team moved quickly from that point, focusing their attentions on their objective inside the truck. Removing the bodies of the two men from the front seat, the team started to move away from the truck when Nikita noticed the teen slumped in the back seat. She called to the team leader, "Michael!"

Quickly the operative passed the unconscious Ellison on to two others, then made his way over to his protege. Calmly, he asked her, "What is it, Nikita?"

Nikita pointed to the young man in the car. "What are we going to do about him?"

"What about him, Nikita?"

Knowing what they were about to do to the car, Nikita insisted, "We can't just - leave- him here!"

Sighing, Michael consented, "All right, but -you're- going to be the one to explain this to Operations." Nikita's fierce defense of 'innocents' was a trait he knew well, and by this point, he refused to try and break her of it. That strength often helped her to be a voice of light and reason in the hell that was Section. It was the only voice that he fully trusted.

Nikita nodded, her stern expression belying the relief she felt in her heart. She refused to let a child, any child die if she could do something about it. "Agreed. Now let's get him out of here."

The two operatives moved quickly, prying open the back seat and extricating the unconscious teen. Slinging the boy over one shoulder, Michael quickly forced Nikita out of the way and moved them a safe distance from the truck moments before it exploded in flames.

Once the team was safely assembled back in the van, Nikita immediately scanned her charge's fingerprints into the computer in the hopes of getting an ID on the boy, and perhaps some information. As she began to scroll through the surprising file on the boy, Nikita's expression grew into a wide smile.

Michael couldn't help but notice the rare expression on Nikita's face. She looked like the cat that had just swallowed the canary. Making his way over to the computer station, he asked Nikita, "What's going on?"

"I got an ID on the boy," Nikita replied. Turning the computer so that Michael could look at the screen she began, "His name is Daryl Banks - he's the son of Ellison and Sandburg's supervisor. Look at some of the scrapes this kid's gotten out of..."

Michael continued for her, reading aloud from the information on the screen. "Held hostage by domestic terrorists...in police headquarters, no less...escaped drug runners in Peru and helped to destroy their base of operations..."

Nikita commented, "Sounds almost like he's an operative-in-training." Looking up at Michael with a pleading expression on her face, Nikita's next question was so innocent-sounding that the operative had to fight the urge to laugh. "Can we keep him, Michael?"

Even working hard to keep his emotions in check, a small chuckle still slipped past Michael's tight control. Calming down, he managed to reply, "It's not my decision, Nikita. You know that." Allowing himself the chance to glance over at the unconscious teen, he thought to himself, [But Daryl, I'd day your chances of survival just improved considerably...]

To say that Operations was nonplused by Nikita's new 'project' would be a gross understatement. He knew -why- she had done it: Nikita's legendary compassion was also, in his opinion, her greatest weakness. [Doesn't she understand that her -compassion- for people like Daryl is what almost got her canceled the first time?] Even Madeline had, at this point, advised him to -not- pursue more attempts to change that side of Nikita's character.

So the question remained of how to deal with her -now-. Watching the woman who had followed him to his office and was now sitting in front of him, he asked her, "Tell me something, Nikita. Can you give me one good reason why I shouldn't cancel you -and- the boy right this minute?"

Calmly, coolly, Nikita replied, "Because canceling the boy would mean destroying an investment in someone who could, four or five years down the road, become one of your best operatives."

Intrigued, Operations watched as Nikita made her way over to his computer and pulled up the information on Daryl Banks. As he read while she returned to her seat, he began to see what Nikita was talking about. After his experiences with Angela and the other children from the Academy, he was begrudgingly beginning to see the potential hidden within certain gifted children. Apparently Nikita saw that potential in young Daryl Banks as well, even though the child's academic records proved to be less than exemplary. He told Nikita, "So you think we should bring Daryl to the Academy." It was a statement, not a question.

Operations almost shuddered at the calm look on Nikita's face. She was growing to be more and more like Madeline every day. "I think that the boy will surprise us, once he understands his options. It's his best chance."

Operations mumbled, "It's his only chance..." Out loud he ordered Nikita, "All right, debrief the boy and make arrangements for his transport to the Academy. Consider that your assignment until the boy is situated." Changing the subject to matters he was far more comfortable with, he then asked her, "How are our two current recruits?"

Nikita replied, "Both are still unconscious from the crash. I've asked Madeline to 'introduce' Professor Sandburg to Section."

Operations agreed with the choice. Madeline could be surprisingly gentle when the situation called for it. "I'll send Michael to work with Ellison. Hopefully these two will be worth the trouble we've taken to get them here."

Michael got the call later that night that Ellison was awake. Which was surprising, considering that the doctors had not expected the man to regain consciousness for several more hours. Standing now outside Ellison's quarters, one of the doctors briefed him, "He called for his partner several times when he first awoke, but now he simply sits on the edge of his bed, silent and motionless in the middle of the room."

Michael asked, "What is his physical condition?"

The doctor replied, "Physically, he's fine. He seems to be in a semi-catatonic state, where his heart rate and breathing have slowed slightly. I was hoping you could shock him out of it."

If Michael was surprised at all by Ellison's condition he did not show it. Instead he simply thanked the doctor and walked calmly into the room.