Author: Scribe
Title: Kindergarten Cop
Email: poet77665@catlover.com
Disclaimer: I did not create, and do not own, the recognizable characters of
either The Sentinel, or Kindergarten Cop. I have not made, do not seek, and
will not accept any profit from this fiction. The story is not meant to reflect
in any way on the real lifestyles of the the actors/actresses involved in the
show, and I have nothing but affection and respect for them.
Summary: Sentinel slash of the movie Kindergarten Cop. Jim Ellison goes
undercover to try to find the runaway paramour, and son, of a crime boss. He's
about to face his toughest challenge yet--riding herd on a class of
six-year-olds--and possibly find the love of his life. First chapter--Jacob
Alexander (soon to be Sandburg) rescues himself and his little brother from an
abusive situation, and goes on the run.
Acknowledgments:
Notes: DNA testing for paternity was only just getting started in the 1980s.
Websites: http://www.scribescribbles.com

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Kindergarten Cop
By Scribe

One

1988

Gary knew that he wasn't supposed to be out of bed, but he just couldn't sleep.
Playing seemed like a good idea, so he crawled out of bed and went to his toy
chest. He tiptoed. He didn't want Daddy to hear. Daddy was all grouchy if he
caught Gary out of bed when he was supposed to be asleep, and Daddy was *scary*
when he was grouchy.

Gary eased the chest open and reached inside, feeling around. He wished he
could turn on the light--there was a special stick attached to the light switch,
so he could turn it on and off all by himself. That made him feel like a big
boy, but Daddy had sneered about it. He'd said that the sooner Gary learned
that the world wasn't built to suit him, the better. The General had told him
to shut up; it was good for a man to learn to take care of himself.

Gary's hand closed over something, and he pulled it out, carrying it over to the
little night light by his bed. He sat on the floor and held the toy close to
the dim, shaded bulb. It was one of his GI Joe dolls. The General called them
'action figures'. He said that dolls were for girls. Gary sighed. He'd rather
play with one of his dinosaurs, but he thought that maybe Daddy would hear him
if he went back to the toy chest. He supposed that the GI Joe would have to do.
He started to play with it, almost reluctantly. It wasn't even his favorite
Joe--it reminded him too much of The General.

He looked up when he heard the door slam out in the living room. His little
face scrunched up in worry. He didn't like it when Daddy slammed the door when
he came home. Gary knew what was coming next, and his bottom lip started to
tremble.

It didn't take long. The voices rose quickly. He couldn't make out most of
what was being said, but the tone was sadly familiar--sharp, and angry. It
would get louder, and louder, and then there would be another slamming door,
before it got quiet again.

It was different this time. This time there was a scuffling sound, and heavy
thumps. It wasn't just raised voices now--it was yelling. Gary put his hands
over his ears, but he could still hear the noises. Then there was a crash as
something slammed into his bedroom door. He scrambled quickly under the bed,
pulling his GI Joe sheets down to make a cave, and curled up into a ball.

There were more thumps, more yelling. He could hear Daddy shouting, "I been
letting you put me off, but no more! I *own* you!"

"I told you--I'm not your bitch! Now, let go, or--"

There was a sharp, smacking sound, and Gary started to cry. That was the same
sound he'd heard when The General slapped Daddy. That must mean that Daddy had
slapped... There was a different sort of crash. It sounded like something had
broken, and Gary started to cry harder. Broken things made Daddy *really* mad.

After a little while Gary noticed that it had gotten very quiet. This was so
unusual that his crying died down to sniffles as he listened, wondering why
Daddy wasn't still shouting. He was very curious, but he was also very tired.

He started to drift off to sleep, but then the door to his room opened, and the
light came on. Gary was instantly wide-awake, and afraid again. He stayed very
still, pretending he was a mouse, hiding from a cat. In the cartoons, the cat
could never get the mouse out of his hole.

"Joshua?" Gary lifted his head at the sound of the voice, most of the tension
leaving his body. It wasn't Daddy, but Daddy might still be awake, and Gary
knew that hiding under the bed would be sure to get him in trouble. Daddy
didn't like people to hide from him, or run away.

"Where are you?" He heard his closet door open, and a mutter of, "Not here."
Then there was a lot of rustling, and he could hear hangers clicking together,
like someone was grabbing big bunches of them. "Josh, c'mon. We don't have a
lot of time."

There were footsteps, and suddenly the sheet flipped up, letting light spill
under the bed. Gary squeaked in fear. But the figure's hair was bright blond,
not brown, and he relaxed with relief. The voice was gentle. "Come out of
there, sweetie."

"Daddy's mad. I heard."

"Don't worry about that. Everything's going to be all right, but we have to
move fast." Gary scooted forward, holding out his arms. He was pulled out and
lifted into a gentle embrace. "I love you, Gary. You know that?"

Gary nodded. "Better'n anything." He squinted, noting the rising bruise on his
rescuer's cheek, and the split lip that dribbled blood. "Daddy *hit* you! I
hate him!"

"Don't waste your energy--you're going to need it. We're going away. I put
most of your clothes in this plastic bag, see?"

"I need my toys! I want my dinosaurs, and..."

"We don't have *time*, Josh! But don't be sad. I'll buy you more when we get
where we're going."

"Where we going?"

"I have no idea, but I'll know when we get there. Now, I need you to do
something for me. It's not hard. I need you to put your head down on my
shoulder, and press your face against my neck. Then, close your eyes, and keep
them closed till I tell you to open them. Can you do that, Gary? It's really,
really important."

"I'm not a baby. I can do that. But Daddy won't like it if we go out at
night."

"Daddy isn't going to say a word. Daddy... Daddy's gone away."

Gary looked puzzled. "Like Mommy?"

There was a soft, sad sound. "No, not like Mommy. Even if he *did* go away
like Mommy, he sure as... He wouldn't end up in the same place. Daddy went
to... France. Okay, are you ready?" In answer Gary put his head down, nuzzled
up close, and closed his eyes tight. The little boy felt a hand softly stroke
his hair. "Outstanding. Hold tight, and we'll be out of here in no time." The
child was carried out of his bedroom. He didn't see the big man sprawled on the
floor, his head surrounded by dirt, leaves, and shards of pottery.

Once the door was unlocked, the keys were tossed back into the apartment. There
was a battered Volvo sitting a couple of blocks away that nobody knew about--the
seller had been perfectly willing to take cash, and forget about filing
paperwork. Nothing belonging to the man on the floor was needed, or //wanted.//

Gary said, "Sandy, my coat. Want my coat."

"Sure, I should have remembered that. You're as cold natured as I am." The
coat was retrieved from a peg and draped over Gary's head. "You can open your
eyes now, but don't look around till we're outside." There was one more
backward glance. The figure was very still, but before going into Gary's room,
the rescuer had made sure that Daddy--also known as Mason Kincaid--was very much
alive.

Jacob Blair Alexander hoisted Gary a little higher in his arms, and grabbed the
bag. "Let's go, little brother."