Originally posted to the SA list. Category: Stolen Movie Scene Purpose: Re-write a movie scene using Jim and Blair

This can be read and understood even if you haven't seen the movie it's taken from, but it's not a fully complete story. Okay, it's complete, but not a beginning-to-end story. How's that? :-) It's more like a snapshot of a few scenes with enough background and information to let you know what's going on.

I'm not going to *tell* you what movie this is from. You have to guess. If you've seen the movie, you should recognize it right away! :-)

angst level: way up there
hurt level: 4.5
comfort level: 5

Blair and Jim owies, but Blair gets the worst of it. :-)

The Enclave

Jim studied the city map on Samantha's computer screen, his fists clenched with impatience and frustration. Blair had been abducted over 10 hours ago, and they had virtually no clues as to his whereabouts. They only knew that the sicko who'd taken him had already killed two other people -- in unusually gruesome and creative ways.

Each time, the killer had left pieces of a puzzle at the crime scene -- taunting the police to try to find the next victim in time. But the clues were vague and difficult to solve within the short time span granted. The first victim had been killed approximately 15 hours after her abduction. The second victim, a business man, had been killed only 12 hours after he'd been kidnapped.

Which meant Blair's time was running out. A piece of paper had been found near the last body with the numbers 1210615. That was one of the easy clues. It told them that Blair would die at precisely 6:15 on December 10th. But was that a.m. or p.m.? The a.m. deadline had already passed, so Jim could only hope the killer intended to end Blair's life at 6:15 p.m.

Unfortunately, that only gave him one hour to find Blair before it was too late.

Samantha shuffled through the slides of the various pieces of evidence found at the last crime scene, and one, in particular, caught Jim's eye.

"Stop!" He pointed to the right hand corner of a newspaper clipping about a slaughterhouse scandal ten years ago. "See there, that handwriting?" The numbers 820.

But what did they mean? If 6:15 was the time and 12/10 the date, then maybe this was part of the address. He fidgeted, glancing at his watch. Damn! Damn! Damn! Blair's time was running out. "Samantha, pull up the city map. I want to see all areas where there are slaughterhouses."

"I can do that." Samantha's fingers flew over the keyboard and, seconds later, the screen displayed a large city grid. She typed in some more data, and two squares popped up.

"Great." Jim leaned closer. "Now please tell me one of those has a street address beginning with 820."


820 Jefferson Avenue -- slaughterhouse. A swat team descended on the building just as Jim brought the blue-and-white Ford to a screeching halt at the curb. He jumped out of the cab and extended his hearing. The elevated heartbeats of the officers around him interfered with his auditory search. Inside the building, he could hear a few remaining employees evacuating through the back.

Blair was somewhere in this area, but not in the building itself. Probably below, like all the victims -- either in a basement or a sewer. Simon had already inquired into a basement. The building had none, but there were steam lines beneath the street.

Steam lines that released steam every day at 6:15 p.m. sharp.

Jim ran toward the nearest manhole, pulled back the cover, and flung himself downward. Simon and a few other men followed.

He dropped into a dim, dusty tunnel and glanced at Simon as the captain dropped next to him. "The plans said the main steam vent is up this way." He pointed straight ahead and glanced at his watch. 5:55 p.m.

Simon nodded, his face grim. Everyone was well aware that they had to move quickly. "Okay, men, keep your guns at ready. Bryce, you go back up and bring the EHK toolbox - and make it fast!"

Bryce, the youngest member of the SWAT team, nodded and scurried back up the ladder as the rest of the men hurried down the tunnel.

They'd only traveled a few feet when Jim cocked his head and paused. A slow, distant groaning could be heard through the pipes, and he swallowed, glancing at his watch again. 6:00. Fifteen minutes.

He strained his hearing further, and beneath the pipe sounds he picked up muffled cries. "Blair!" He took off in a run, knowing the others would be right on his heels, and followed the sound straight to a brick wall.

He slapped his palms on the wall, listening to the frantic breathing and pounding heartbeat of the young man on the other side. "He's in there, Simon. I can hear him."

Simon glanced at the other swat members anxiously, then back at Jim. Johnson, a seasoned veteran of the force, placed his ear against the wall and nodded. "Yeah, I can hear him, too." He glanced at his watch. "Damn, we've got only ten minutes to get him out of there before this whole place is filled with scalding steam."

Jim nodded. "I know. I know."

Damn! He looked to the ceiling. His eyes tracked a thick pipe as it disappeared through a fitted hole in the top of the brick. He scanned the wall separating him from Blair and found a small hole near the edge. Quickly, he shuffled over to it and placed his eye over the opening, hoping it would give him a view of Blair.

It did. "Oh God, Simon. Sandburg's tied to a pipe that runs from the floor to the ceiling. His hands are shackled above his head and his feet are bound with rope. He's right in front of a large steam pipe. It's poised in front of him like a canon, so when the steam goes, he's going to get it full-force." His voice cracked. "God, Simon, he's going to be boiled alive."

Jim focused all his senses on his partner. Blair looked barely conscious, his eyelids drifting open and closed and his head tilted back against the pipe. Dried blood marred the right side of his face, and he had a gag in his mouth. He was mumbling something, tears drying on his cheeks. His eyes kept darting to the large pipe facing him, and it was obvious he knew what was going to happen.

Jim had to let Blair know rescue was imminent. He'd get him out of there in time no matter what it took. "BLAIR! IT'S JIM! CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Blair's head jerked, his eyes sweeping across the room. A muffled scream rose from his throat.

Jim clenched his fists, wishing he could bash the wall down with his bare hands. "BLAIR, I'M RIGHT HERE! LOOK STRAIGHT AHEAD, CHIEF! THE BRICK WALL! I'M ON THE OTHER SIDE!"

Blair sprang to life, struggling futilely against his bonds, screaming Jim's name through his gag.

"HANG ON, CHIEF! WE'LL GET YOU OUT OF THERE!" Jim turned back to Simon and spoke low, so only the two of them would be privy to the conversation. "I don't think the killer's here. I can hear only Blair's heartbeat and ours." He glanced at his watch again. "Damnit, sir! We've only got six minutes!" His voice rose with his frustration. "Where the hell is Bryce with that kit?!"

"Here, sir!" Bryce appeared, handing Jim a bright orange toolbox. Quickly, Jim set it on the ground and opened it, rummaging through the contents. He needed something to get through that brick, but all the kit held was rudimentary first aid and hardware items -- bandages and antiseptic in one shelf and wrenches, screwdrivers, and other items on the lower shelf.

"Damn! This isn't going to work. We've got five or six minutes, Captain."

The steam pipes groaned again, louder this time, announcing the imminent release. Inside the room, Blair's frantic pleas were audible to everyone.

"Screw this!" Jim threw himself at the wall, pounding at it and kicking it and cursing, his voice rising with each assault. "Damn it! Simon, help me! We've got to knock this thing down!"

"Jim, that's a *brick wall.*" The captain pulled at him, but Jim shoved him aside, his eyes blazing.

"Simon, if we don't get him out of there in less than five minutes, he's going to die!"

"I know, Jim." Simon's voice trembled, and he glanced at his watch. "I know. God, I know."

The dam of emotion inside Jim burst, flooding through him like a beast out of control, and he threw himself back at the wall. "NO! No, Goddamnit!" He pummeled the wall, his fists turning bloody, until finally...

One gave.

That was all he needed. He stuck his hand through the hole and grabbed the next brick, pulling it free. Then the next. Then the next. "How long, Simon?!"

"Three minutes!"

"Blair! Hang on!" It wasn't enough time. Three minutes just wasn't enough time. The pipes groaned louder, shaking with anticipation.

Finally, Jim had carved out a hole big enough for him to fit through. He squeezed through it, dropping to the floor on the other side of the wall. Simon's voice bellowed behind him, but he ignored the captain and ran straight for Blair.

"Jim! You've got one minute! You're going to be killed!"

Damn! He ran back to the wall. "Simon, hand me the bolt cutters!" Instantly, the tool was shoved through the hole and Jim grabbed it, then ran to Blair's side.

"MMMM!!!" Blair looked up at him, his eyes wide with terror, renewed tears streaming down his cheeks. He shook his head frantically, his gaze darting from the pipe to Jim, and then to the hole in the wall. The plea was obvious.

Jim snapped the chains holding Blair to the pipe and grabbed him when he collapsed forward. "I'm not leaving you, Chief."

"Thirty seconds, Jim!"

Thirty seconds. Jim looked helplessly at the wall as the pipes groaned louder. There was no way he'd get Blair out in time. No way.

Blair raised his arms, still bound by the shackles, and pulled the gag from his mouth. "Jim, man, you shouldn't have..." He was shaking and sobbing, his words barely decipherable through his tears. "You're gonna die, too! Oh God, Jim. I'm so sorry. I'm --"

Jim pulled his friend into a quick, tight hug. "Shhh, Chief. It's okay. It's okay." His eyes scanned the room.

"JIM!" Simon's voice resonated through the room.

"GET OUT, Simon! Go!"

"Dear God... Jim..."


The pipes shimmied and moaned. They had no time left. Jim spotted a depression beneath some kind of decaying cabinet jutting from the wall. He didn't know if it would protect them, but it was the only hope he and Blair had.

"Hang on, Chief!" He picked Blair up and ran, then dove into the cubby hole and covered Sandburg with his body. He kept his head down and his cheek pressed against Blair's.

A loud clang echoed through the room, and then a roar. The ground shook, and the floor turned hot. The room itself became stifling, the air scalding. Blair cried out, going rigid beneath Jim's weight. Then everything went silent.


Simon and the team made it far enough away to be safe when the steam blew. His heart jumped to his throat, his chest tight, and his knees grew weak. He leaned against the wall for support, pushing back the tears. "Jim... Blair... Oh God." His two closest friends had just been scalded alive.

Straightening, he glanced at the other members of the team and then jabbed his chin back toward the enclave. "C'mon. Let's go see what's left."

It took them less than a minute to get back. Simon walked up to the hole in the wall, afraid to look inside. He tried to brace himself for the sight he knew would greet him.... Swallowing hard, he looked through, but Jim and Blair were nowhere to be seen. A twinge of hope blossomed in his chest.



*Oh God, thank you, God.* This time Simon's knees did betray him, and he collapsed, leaning against the wall.

"Simon, I've got Blair! I'm coming out. Get the medics down here!"

Simon slid his fingers beneath his glasses and rubbed quickly at his eyes, then rose to his feet and peered through the hole. What he saw made his heart skip a beat.

Jim, his face red and his hands bloody, carried a barely conscious Blair in his arms as he jogged toward the wall. As soon as he reached the hole, he steered Blair's feet through, and Simon grabbed them, pulling the young man toward him.

Blair moaned from the jostling, but soon he was through. He collapsed against Simon, grabbing two fistfuls of the captain's jacket.

Banks wrapped his arms around the young man as Jim squeezed through the hole. *God, he's so hot.* Simon looked down at Sandburg, noting the blood on his face and the burns on his left cheek and both hands.

"Here. Let me, sir." Jim crouched next to him and gently pulled Blair away, cradling him to his chest and rocking him slowly as Blair turned his face into Jim's chest, sobs catching in his shallow breaths.


Jim heard the medics approaching, their voices and footsteps echoing down the tunnel. He tightened his hold on Blair, knowing the young man needed the contact. Blair's arms were still shackled together, so he clutched at Jim's right arm with both hands, his face pressed into Jim's chest, his body shaking with tears of release. Jim listened to Blair's heartbeat and breathing. Both were rapid but unsteady, and it was obvious Blair was fighting unconsciousness.

Blair's muffled words were audible only to Sentinel ears. "I c-can't believe you d-did that, Jim. I can't b-believe you did that."

"Shhh." Jim rested his chin on top of Blair's head and continued the soothing rocking. "It's okay, partner. We made it out. It's okay. Shhhh."

The paramedics arrived, and Jim reluctantly released his hold on Blair, turning him over to their care.


Jim hopped off the hospital bed and grabbed his jeans from the chair, slipping into them. His bandaged hands made working the zipper and button difficult, but manageable.

"Detective, you really need to --"

Jim grabbed his shirt and slid it over his head. "What room is he in?"

The doctor sighed, his shoulders sagging. "302, but he's sedated right now and, even if he wakes up, he probably won't be very coherent."

"I can see him, though, right?"

Reluctantly, the doctor nodded. "Yes, but try not to disturb him. He needs rest even more than you do. And, while we're on that subject, let me get you a wheelchair --"

"No thanks, Doc. I'm signing myself out."

"Listen, Detective. You've got burns on your hands and face."

"Minor burns."

"Yes. You were lucky. Your jacket protected you from most of the steam, and having your head down protected your face, but your hands are still pretty messed up."

Jim smiled, strolling toward the door. "They had a run in with a brick wall."

"Yeah, so I heard." The doctor sighed again and followed Jim into the hall.


When Jim arrived at Blair's room, he saw Simon standing at Sandburg's bedside. Softly, he opened the door and stepped inside, offering a tiny smile. "Hey, Captain. How are you?"

"I'm fine." Simon grabbed the bed rail and looked down at Blair, the beeping of the heart monitor distinct in the background. "You two took ten years off my life. You know that?"

"It wasn't fun for us, believe me." He stopped beside the captain and peered down at the sleeping man. Sandburg's arms and wrists were bandaged, and a few patches of gauze were taped to his right temple and left cheek. "The doctor says his hands took most of the heat, but his chin and cheek got burned from the hot floor. No scarring, though."

Simon smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, and jerked his chin toward Blair. "Romeo here will be happy to know that."

Jim's lips twitched as he studied his partner. "Yeah, I'm sure he will." He sighed, dropping into the vacant chair. "Damn, Simon, this one was too close."

Simon rubbed his forehead. "I know. God, what the kid must have went through with that sick bastard."

A soft moan -- almost a whimper -- silenced the conversation. Jim rose from the chair and lowered the bed rail, perching himself on the edge of the mattress.


Blair's brow furrowed, and he turned his head toward Jim. The beeping of the heart monitor quickened, and Jim placed a gentle palm on top of Blair's head, carefully avoiding the bandage on his temple.

"It's okay, Blair." Jim leaned closer to his his partner, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're safe, now. It's okay. Relax."

He smiled as Blair's eyelids drifted open, revealing clouded blue eyes.


"Yeah, right here."

Blair's gaze locked with Jim's, and the young man raised one bandaged hand and grabbed Jim's forearm. His arm trembled, and his breathing quickened, then his eyes darted quickly to the captain.


Simon smiled. "How're you feeling, Sandburg?"

Blair took a deep, shuddering breath and looked back at Jim. "You... You saved my life."

Jim covered Blair's hand with his own. "I --"

"You could have been killed." Blair's voice grew stronger, and he swallowed hard. "I can't believe you did that. You should have left, Jim." Tears swelled in his eyes, and his voice began to tremble. "You should have left me there. I can't believe you did that. You were almost cooked alive!"

"Hey, hey. Take it easy, Chief." Jim placed his palm flat on Blair's chest. "It's okay. We both got out alive. Your heart's still beating. So is mine."

Blair shook his head. "You could have died because of me, Jim. You were ready to die with me." His voice broke, and the tears spilled onto his cheeks. "P-Please, please promise me you'll never do that again. I don't want you to die because of me. I --"

"Quiet." Jim's voice took on a hard edge, and he placed his hands on either side of Blair's face, being careful of the burns on his left side. "You pushed me under a garbage truck, remember? You risked your life to save mine. I have every right to do the same."

"Jim --"

"Shhh." He slid his arms beneath Blair's shoulders and pulled him into a careful, comforting embrace. "It's okay. We're both okay."

Blair wrapped his arms around Jim's waist and rested his forehead on the Sentinel's shoulder. "I was so scared. I thought I was gonna die. I didn't want to die like that..."

"I know, Chief. It's okay. You're okay, now." Blair trembled in Jim's hold, and warm wet drops spilled onto Jim's shoulder.

Simon's soft footsteps bid a slow retreat from the room, and Jim glanced briefly back at the captain, nodding a curt, grateful acknowledgment at his superior as the older man closed the door.

After a few seconds, Blair's shaking subsided, and he relaxed against Jim's chest, his breathing and heart rate evening out. Realizing his partner was asleep, Jim gently lowered him back to the mattress and checked the IV to make sure the catheter hadn't been displaced. It still looked solidly in place, so he raised the thin blanket and tucked it around Blair's shoulders, hoping to ward off the chill of the hospital room.

He brushed his fingers over Blair's cheeks, wiping away the wetness, and then slid off the mattress and raised the rail. "Sleep easy, Chief."

With a yawn, he settled himself in the chair and waited for his partner to wake up again.


Please let me know how (or if!) you liked this :-) Getting LoC's really makes my day! Especially when I'm stuck studying *grin*
NawdC@yahoo.com   If you want to know the title of the movie, e-mail me :-)

And, yes, the serial killer gets caught before the next victim dies :-)