From
Water to Fire: Cipher missing scene
by Freya-Kendra
Rating: PG
Summary: The lair of serial killer David Lash is in an old, abandoned
warehouse. His extensive use of candles suggests a fire waiting to happen. In
this take on the story, Jim and Lash fuel a fire during their struggle, leaving
a chained and drugged Blair to face the consequences.
Disclaimer: Neither the song nor the characters nor the concepts are mine;
rather they've been borrowed for the sake of amusement and
no personal gain has been nor shall ever be made of them whatsoever.
Detective Jim Ellison breathed a
sigh of relief. David Lash was dead.
Looking down at the body, Jim felt a
tingle of anxiety. Lash's eyes were open, as each of his victims' had been,
making it appear as though he'd been surprised to face his own mortality. The
cold eyes stared lifelessly at the rotted and jagged shards of wood that
entombed him, so unlike the clean water that had enveloped his victims. It
seemed fitting somehow, in a heaven and hell sort of way. Where water had
buoyed his innocent victims, much like clouds in heaven, here Lash lay in the
basement of an abandoned warehouse, deep in the earth, that much closer to
hell. Jim thought he could even smell brimstone as he swallowed against the
bile that rose into his throat.
Another cautious sniff warned him he
hadn't imagined the scent. Something was on fire.
"Sandburg!" He whispered
coldly, remembering the candles Lash had burning in his trophy room, where
Blair had been left in chains. Though the killer was dead, Sandburg could still
become Lash's last victim.
Acutely aware of the brittle, dry
wood surrounding him, Jim hurried back toward the room. The smell of fire
intensified with each step as wisps of smoke grew into thick clouds. A distant,
orange glow became a bright glare of recrimination. He should never have
allowed Lash to get the upper hand on him. He'd been careless. He should have
been able to take Lash without a fight. Instead, he'd fallen into Lash's trap,
tripping on the rigged stairway. The resulting struggle had probably knocked
over a dozen or more candles. While his own carelessness had forced him to pursue
the killer, Sandburg had been abandoned up there amidst the growing flames,
helpless and in chains.
"*The drug is short acting, the
death, long suffering*..." He heard Carolyn's words echo in the hollowness
of his thoughts. She'd been referring to drowning. *How much worse would it be
to die by fire?* "No, that's not going to happen," He said to
whatever spirits lingered in the walls.
* * *
Blair's eyes were fixed on a flame
that licked its way up the wall across from him. It was like a living thing,
absorbing everything it touched. Soon it would absorb what was left of Susan
Frasier, Billy Bright and Adam Walker. It would absorb them much as Lash had
hoped to do. There was something ironic in that thought. The fire would absorb
them but not become them, while Lash had tried to become them but could not
absorb them. And this is what it would all come down to. The life Lash had
hoped to create was burning away long after the lives of his victims had been
snuffed out in a pool of water. Ironic was the most academic word Blair could
find. But terrifying was a more appropriate word for the moment.
Blair was trapped. If the chains
weren't enough, Lash's drug was working its way through his system,
immobilizing him even further. He found it strange that his head felt light
while his body felt heavy. Too heavy. Or was it the
chains? They seemed to have grown heavier than even an Arnold could lift.
*Could Jim*?
Jim.... Where was he? He'd crashed
through the window with Lash. For all Blair knew, they were both dead. *No,
don't think like that, man*. The words lay locked in his throat. Like his
limbs, his voice had been rendered useless. *Jim*! He wanted to shout. He could
barely whimper.
The smoke was starting to sting his
eyes and burn his lungs. *This is no way to die, man*. He'd almost prefer the
drowning. *Don't think like that, man. Don't do that to yourself*! But how
could he not? The flames were drawing closer, there was still no sign of Jim,
and he had no chance of calling out to anyone else who might be close enough to
hear him. He was trapped. Hopelessly and utterly trapped.
* * *
By the time Jim reached the door,
the flames had already taken hold of the room. He tried to zero in on the chair
at its center, to see his partner there. He tried too hard. The hot, bright
fingers flickering before him seared into his skull. His eyes felt singed. He
raised his arm in recoil, shielding himself. Too late.
The damage had already been done. For a long while he could see nothing at all.
He would have to rely on his other senses.
These were the kind of moments when
a sentinel needed his guide the most. Was this Lash's revenge? Or some great, big cosmic joke? He now needed Sandburg as
much as Sandburg needed him.
No. That wasn't true. Sandburg
needed him far more. He could do this. He could use his other senses.
He tried to center himself, as
Sandburg would have him do. With his eyes closed, he took a careful breath and
searched through the flames for the scent of his partner. Tuning his ears past
the crackling sound of burning wood, the occasional pop of exploding embers, he
listened for a familiar heartbeat.
When his eyes began to tear, he
wasn't sure whether it was relief or just his body's reaction to the fire.
Sandburg was still alive.
He could do this.
He put a hand out before him to
gauge the nearness of the flames and took a cautious step forward, testing the
solidity of the stair beneath him before he gave it his full weight.
"Sandburg?" There was no
answer.
He took another step, and another, finally
coming to the missing board, the trap that had earlier ensnared him. He could
get past this, too. He lowered himself down to sit on the last step, then let
one leg guide him to the level of the floor.
"Sandburg?" He called out
louder.
Though his partner still did not
reply, he noticed an increase in the cadence of Sandburg's heartbeat. He hoped
that simply meant he'd been heard. He knew it might also mean an increase in
levels of pain.
The flames were all around him now,
making it difficult to move ahead without benefit of his sight. Hoping the
tears had been enough to refresh his vision, Jim tested his eyes, careful to
tune down that sense before letting his lids flutter open.
The images were clouded at first, in
a montage of orange and black. But at least he wasn't blind. He blinked until
things began to solidify. Then he locked onto the image of his partner.
"Ji...Jim...."
The voice was strained, the word mumbled.
"Let's get you out of here,
Chief."
* * *
Blair felt like a sack of potatoes.
Jim had wasted no time in grabbing him from Lash's chair and slinging him over
one shoulder. An instant later they were flying through the flames.
And then it was all behind him. The
hell of Lash's threats and the inferno of that psycho's legacy.... It was all
behind him. It was over.
It seemed so surreal, so like a bad
movie. He wanted to laugh. He couldn't tell whether it was his own lunacy
taking control, or just pure and simple hysteria. But he wanted... no, he
*needed* to laugh. When Jim gently lowered him to the ground in the sweet, cold
night air of the waterfront, he started to giggle. It turned into a sob
instead.
Jim noticed.
Blair should probably be
embarrassed. He shouldn't show his emotions so freely. Jim wouldn't cry. Henri,
Simon... none of them would cry. Or would they? For a moment, he could almost
believe he saw a real tear in the corner of Jim's eye. But before he could
confirm the sighting, Jim enfolded him in an embrace unlike they'd ever shared,
pushing Blair's face deep into his chest. Like a father comforting his son. Or a brother. Yes, a brother. Jim held him like a real
brother, spared from death, and appreciated in life.
~end~