Disclaimer: They're not mine. My daughter would be delirious if they were. All that jazz.
I thought I was being original with this, having never read a story with this particular missing scene but alas, I have been told it's been done. But I'm doing it anyway. I would have loved to have seen the fight that occurred at the loft. Since Pet Fly didn't do it, then I will. Please be forgiving of mistakes and oversights. This is my first. Thanks to Shallan for her kindness and help.
Java Head
Blair Sandburg practically ran through the front door of the loft, locking it behind him. Not very strong locks for a cop's house. He leaned back against the door, trying to calm himself down. His heart was beating like a trip hammer.
"Man, just calm. down."
He tried to convince himself that he was just being paranoid. An understandable reaction to the past couple of weeks of working on the serial killings. But then he remembered seeing the bizarre reflection in the cab door window superimposed over Chris' face. It was like looking in a mirror from far away. Except for the eyes. David Lash's eyes.
No. It was not Lash. It did not look like me. Lots of people have long hair and glasses.
But when he had turned around, the figure was gone. As though he was stalking him.
Why me? Why would Lash pick me? Why Adam Walker? Why Billy Bright? Susan Frazier? Anthony Bates? Why Blair Sandburg? Why me, indeed? Something about Blair had fascinated Lash. The man was crazy for crying out loud! Did crazy people need a reason for doing anything?
Calm down. Calm down. Jim should be home soon.
He moved away from the door. Walking into the kitchen area, he started to slide his coat off his shoulders when he saw a shadow run across the skylight.
Fear slammed into him like a brick wall. He threw the coat back over his shoulders and ran to the glass doors that led out to the balcony. He pulled the doors shut and latched them. Gotta do something about locks, Jim! he thought as he pulled down the shades. He had never given much thought to the lack of secure locks before. But Jim was usually home. And Blair had never had a serial killer stalking him before.
God, please let Jim come home. Where are you, Big Guy?
Rushing through the house, he headed toward the back door, but stopped cold when he heard rattling and banging from the other side of the door. Crap! Now what?
Blair ran to the phone and dialed Jim's pager number. Jim, where are you?
Blair stood in the kitchen. Waiting. Trying to hear any movement from outside. Nothing. Where's a Sentinel when you need one? He looked hard at the telephone. "Ring! Come on. Please!"
Suddenly, the door crashed open. Yep, gotta do something about that lock. Blair ran to the back door with Lash right behind him. No! It's locked! That's what he was doing at the back door! Blair turned around and ducked and ran simultaneously to head butt Lash in the stomach. As Lash fell, he grabbed Blair's ankle and tripped him, causing the Anthropologist to land to the right of the bar. Blair kicked out with his free foot and connected with the hand that held him, making Lash let go.
Blair scrambled to his feet and ran around the bar toward the front door only to be headed off by Lash. He swerved to the right toward the balcony doors. He could jump off the balcony. Probably break his legs and a couple of other things, but it beat the heck out of being drowned in a bath tub. He reached out, grabbed the shade to get past it and open the door, but Lash tackled Blair to the floor and Blair pulled the shade down on top of them. Before Lash could pin him down, Blair scooted out from under him and onto his knees. He reached out, grabbed the lamp that had fallen from the overturned end table and swung it down and hit Lash on the back of the head with it. The insane man was stunned only for a second, but it allowed Blair time to get to his feet.
Blair grabbed a heavy bookshelf and pulled it over, half of it and it's contents falling on top of Lash. Blair struggled to his feet, fueled by stark naked terror. Again, he ran toward the front door. He was beginning to think he just might escape, when his foot caught on a turned up edge of the rug and he stumbled and fell against the table, knocking the TV and VCR to the floor.
Stunned, he struggled to rise to his feet, when he was hit on the back of the head with a heavy object, the blow slamming him back to the ground. His last thought was that Jim was gonna freak when he saw the mess in the Loft. Then oblivion washed over him.
Cold. Pain. Oh, man, his head hurt. He was lying on his right side on a hard surface. He didn't want to open his eyes. His head hurt too much. He could feel that he was indoors but it was a very large place. Cold and drafty.
He couldn't move. Jim. Think I'm in trouble here. What had happened? Oh God! Lash! His eyes jerked open. It was dark, but streams of dusty light were scattered around. He tried to get up, but his hands were stopped short by something heavy. He couldn't move his feet either. He tried to open his mouth to speak, to yell. But his teeth and tongue were held immobile by something tight and rough. He struggled to keep from crying. He was gagged! Oh, God. Oh, Jim. He moved his arms again and felt heavy metal. Heard dull clanking. He was shackled!
Jim. I'm in a nightmare. Please come wake me up.
He slowly rolled over to his back. Moaning quietly. He swallowed. Help me, Jim. He told himself that Jim was coming. His partner always came.
Somewhere in the night, the Sentinel stalked the city, hunting for his Guide.
End
All finished! Hope you liked it. Feedback welcome. Constructive criticism only. I'm nice so be nice back. Thanks for tuning in. Java Head