Franken-Ficlet
by Freya-Kendra
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Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump, clack ...
As Blair listened to the sounds of mis-matched footsteps moving toward him, his heart thumped out enough volume on its own to nearly drown out the steady approach.
Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump, clack ...
His eyes darted about him in the dark alleyway, looking for signs of sanctuary or salvation. What few doors he saw were all shut tight, closing him out or sealing someone else in. There were no windows. There was only the blood-red brick and the sounds of someone ... or something following close behind him.
Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump, clack ...
Blair quickened his pace. Still, the sound drew closer and closer.
Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump, clack ...
It sounded like every horror movie ever made, with zombies or Frankensteins or mask-wearing chainsaw ax murderers closing in. Steadily. Relentlessly.
Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump, clack ...
The tension building, he was sure an audience somewhere was just waiting for the thrill of the kill. It was not a question of if, but of when ... and how. Fortunately he hadn't heard the tell-tale buzz of a chainsaw ready for action -- at least not yet.
Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump, clack ...
"Alright, already!" Stopping short, Blair spun around to face his tormenter.
Thump, clack ... thump, clack ... thump ...
His pursuer stopped at the edge of a shadow, seeming intent on avoiding the light of the full moon.
Blair's breaths grew quicker, more shallow. He was amazed he could breathe at all. It felt as though some evil force had wrapped itself tightly around his throat.
"I'm sorry, okay?" He shouted. "There I said it. Now will you just stop with this silent treatment?"
The figure stepped quietly forward. Blair found himself holding his breath.
"Never again, Sandburg." The moonlight caught Jim's icy glare and shot it like a laser beam across the space between them.
"I know, Jim. I know. I'm sorry. I really had no idea Carol was such a hands-off mother. But what you did, man, I mean it was nothing short of heroic."
Jim's glare intensified. "Never. Again. Got it?"
"Oh yeah. I got it, Jim. I think the only one who couldn't get it is Carol. Oh, and her kids, if they ever manage to get near you again."
"Never."
"Ah, never say never, Jim. I mean, they do live just down the street, and you never know, you know?"
"Never."
"And you know you can't touch them. I mean, they're just kids. And they're not your kids. You really can't--"
"Never. Again. Got it?"
"Yeah, Jim. I got it, man."
"Now get your butt up that fire escape and bring down the sharpest knife you can find."
Blair could almost hear the eerie background music that had accompanied each downward strike of Norman Bates' deadly blade in the original Psycho.
"A small hack-saw would work better, don't you think, Jim?"
"I don't care. Just make sure it's sharp."
"Yeah. Right." Blair scrambled up the fire escape and hurried through the loft's rear door.
"Sharp," He repeated to himself as he sifted through the tool box under the kitchen sink. The first thing he found was a utility knife. "Perfect," He decided.
Back down in the alley, Blair's hand shook as he tried to saw through the makeshift cast Carol had allowed her daughter to affix to Jim's left foot.
"Careful with that, will you?" Jim said. "Just the plaster, not the skin, alright?"
"Yeah, Jim. I know."
"I can't believe I let her get away with this."
"I'm with you there, man." Blair chuckled. "You know, Jim. I've never seen you be so ... accommodating. It was almost as though..."
A light bulb went off in Blair's head. "You've got a thing for Carol, don't you?" Blair stopped to look up into his friend's eyes.
"Are you forgetting whose idea it was to go to her kid's party in the first place?"
"No, Jim. I couldn't possibly forget whose fault it was you ended up walking out of there wearing a hand painted pink paisley cast. But ...."
A grimace turned to a suspicious, sideways glance. "But why'd you ever agree to go in the first place?"
"Because you insisted it was the neighborly thing to do." Jim's jaw muscles tensed as he fixed Blair with his coldest, hardest glare he could muster. "Now get this thing off my foot!"
"I'll get it off. As soon as you admit you only endured this whole night because ... you're into her. You've got a thing for Carol Foster."
"Sandburg!" Jim demanded icily.
"Admit it, Jim."
The glare faded. Jim's jaw relaxed. He sighed. "Okay, Sandburg. Maybe I did. But that was before I realized she had the kids from Hell. Now get sawing!"
Blair snickered as he got back to work. He was getting tired of sawing with a blade that hadn't been nearly as sharp as he'd expected, when the flash of headlights held his hand.
"Oh, no. No, no, no. Sandburg! Give me that thing, now!"
As soon as Blair passed him the blade, Jim sliced and sawed at the cast looking every bit like the psycho slasher Blair had earlier imagined.
But it was useless. There was no way Jim could possibly get it off before the patrol car reached them. By tomorrow morning half of Cascade's PD would be swapping stories about The Detective in the Pink Paisley Cast.
Jim sighed in resignation as the patrol car came to a stop. He straightened his posture, apparently prepared to make light of the situation, and then watched an officer approach.
"Detective Ellison, I presume?" She greeted.
Jim turned to Blair, confusion evident by the drawn line of his brow. "That's right," he answered.
The officer laughed softly. "I heard you had a little ... situation on your hands."
"You heard? From who?"
Oh, no. Jim was definitely not happy. Blair felt a tenseness in the air that practically crackled with energy.
"My brother's boss's ex-girlfriend," the officer replied, "owed a favor to Carol Foster. Long story. Let's just say I'm the favor."
"Carol called you?"
"In a manner of speaking. She called her brother, who called.... It doesn't matter. The bottom line is she was concerned about your ... reputation."
"She ... was?" Jim's posture straightened up all its own then.
Blair shook his head in amusement. Suddenly, he seriously doubted Jim would stick to his "Never again" proclamation. And no one back at the PD would ever know a thing about the pink paisley cast. That is, as long as Blair Sandburg kept quiet....
end
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