I'm working on a much larger story that will be completed soon, but I needed the break and decided to fiddle with this little missing scene, something that's been nagging at me for awhile, now. It's a missing scene from "The Girl Next Door." Rated PG. Not beta'd.

Mug Shot of an Anthropologist

Blair didn't know anything was amiss until he arrived at the station. He walked to the elevators, following Simon and Jim inside, and was just about to hit the button for the seventh floor when Jim beat him to the punch. Only he hit a much lower floor.

"Hey, Jim, aren't we heading up to the bullpen?" Blair asked.

Jim looked uncomfortably at Simon, and the Captain cleared his throat. "Uh... booking," the Captain explained.

"Booking?" Sandburg repeated, his brow furrowed. "What for?"

"Well, uh, Chief, you had half a million dollars worth of heroine in your car..." Jim began.

"Yeah, so," Blair retorted, his voice rising a notch. "It's not mine." His eyes narrowed, as he gazed at the two anxious men, and sudden realization hit him, draining the blood from his face. "No way. Come on, guys, you're not arresting me, are you?"

"Sorry, Sandburg. Procedure," Simon explained.

"Procedure?!" Blair yelled, backing against the wall. "No way. Come on, you can't be serious. You know that stuff wasn't mine. I was kidnapped, for crying out loud."

"We have to, Sandburg, until we can question Iris. If she clears you, you're free," Simon insisted.

Blair's jaw dropped open. "If she clears me... You're putting my future in the hands of a criminal?" He ran a shaky hand through his curls. "I don't believe this, man. Like she's gonna vouch for me. Yeah, I can just hear her now, 'Oh, yeah, officer, I kidnapped him, held a gun to his head, stole his car, and tried to kill him. It's all my fault, you can let him go.'" He barked a derisive laugh. "Yeah, that's really gonna happen, guys."

The elevators opened, and Jim placed a firm hand on Blair's arm, steering him into the hall. "Don't worry, Sandburg, she'll clear you."

"Oh yeah," Blair grumbled. "What are you gonna do? Beat it out of her? Not gonna happen, man... and if you're arresting me, then I want a lawyer." He glared at Simon as Jim guided him through the doors into booking.

"I'll contact the public defender's office," the Captain said.

A remarkably short time later, after being deprived of everything but his clothes, Blair found himself standing next to a broad-shouldered, blue-uniformed police officer. "Your right thumb, please."

Blair swallowed, pressing his thumb onto the ink pad, then onto the paper.

"Thank you, Sir."

He was whisked away, then told to stand in line. Minutes later, a firm hand on his back pushed him in front of the camera. He glanced at Jim standing quietly against the far wall, keeping an eye on things, and felt his own face flush with embarrassment. God, how humiliating. Just what I need -- a record. I'm never gone get a job teaching after this. I'll be lucky if I keep my job. The Dean's not gonna be too happy if she finds out I was arrested for a drug offense.

"Just look straight, please." The light flashed, and he blinked, bright dots dancing in his vision.

"Turn to your right, please."

Wordlessly, he complied, and the flash hit again.

"Your left."

He obeyed, relieved when the photographer snapped the last shot.

When he was all done, Jim walked up to him, taking him away from a stern-looking officer with dark eyes. "I've got him, Bill, thanks."

"Uh..." the officer appeared momentarily uncertain until Captain Banks walked up behind Jim.

"It's okay, Donnelly," the Captain told the man.

With a curt nod, Officer Donnelly released Blair into Jim's custody, and the Sentinel placed a light hand on Blair's back, steering him toward the elevators.

"Come on, you can wait in Simon's office while we interrogate Iris."

"Thanks. You're all heart," Blair retorted.

"Take it easy, Sandburg," Banks admonished. "Let's just wait and see what she says."

They rode the elevator up to the seventh floor in silence, Blair making his way to the corner, his arms wrapped around his torso. He avoided the slightly guilty looks Simon and Jim threw his way, hoping Jim wasn't listening to the pounding of his heart. He'd never realized how degrading an experience it was to be arrested -- booked, fingerprinted, photographed. It was like he was just a thing, the way the cops all looked at him. They'd searched him, taken his wallet and pocket watch, hell, even his nipple ring. He'd never been so violated before in his life. Right now, he felt incredibly out of place, like a fish out of water, a lone anthropologist surrounded by a sea of gun-toting cops.

Well, at least they're not putting me in a holding cell. Thank heaven for small favors.

The elevator groaned to a halt, and the doors slid open. Blair followed the two officers into Simon's office, sliding bonelessly into one of the empty seats. A shiver passed through him, and he folded his arms across his chest to keep warm, hoping the gesture also made him look a bit defiant.

It's too damn cold in here. Forty degrees outside, and the a/c's blowing. Go figure.

His stomach churned, reminding him that he hadn't eaten for a while. He also hadn't gotten any sleep in that time, and the fatigue was starting to catch up to him, leaving him drained. Without warning, a thick grey blanket was draped over him, and he started, looking up to see Jim standing over him.

"You looked cold," the Detective explained, grabbing a steaming mug from Simon's desk. "Here's some coffee. You want something to eat?"

Blair nodded, wrapping his hands around the pleasingly hot mug. "Yeah. Thanks."

Jim nodded and flicked on the television, handing the remote to Blair. "Here you go. Knock yourself out. I'll round you up something to eat. Okay?"

"Yeah, whatever." He sank deeper into the chair, taking a sip of his coffee.

The Loft...

Simon, Jim, and Joel sat around the table, savoring the dinner that Blair had prepared the night before. Blair sat propped on the back of the couch, idly fingering the strings of his guitar. He watched them eat, having no appetite himself. Jim had sent someone out for a sandwich before going off to interrogate Iris, but, as Blair had unwrapped the deli item, he'd found he really didn't have much of an appetite after all.

Well, at least SOMEONE'S enjoying the dinner, he told himself, though he couldn't help but resent the fact that the meal he'd worked so hard on -- the meal he'd prepared as an aphrodisiac -- ended up going to fill the stomachs of two of the men who'd had him arrested... Two men he figured he'd be pissed at for at least the next few hours...

Unless he could find a healthy outlet for some of his pent-up anger. Maybe a little pay-back. He wavered, trying to think up a suitable revenge scheme, when Joel inadvertently provided the perfect opportunity.

"Blair, you've outdone yourself this time, buddy. This stuff is great. There's only one problem. Uh, I'm not getting turned on, man."

Jim and Simon chuckled, and if Blair had any doubts before about indulging in a little revenge, they vanished when he saw the amused grin on Simon's face.

"Ha. Ha. Ha," he mocked a chuckle. "Very funny. Very funny. It's almost as funny as being in lockup for four hours."

"You were in my office the entire time watching T.V.," Simon defended.

"I got booked, I got fingerprinted, I got photographed. Do you know how humiliating that is?" he snapped back.

"It's just procedure, Chief," Jim jumped in. "You had half a million dollars worth of smack in the trunk of your car. Lucky for you, Iris was more interested in putting Parkman and Chance away than in having her revenge on you."

Simon laughed. "If she hadn't corroborated your story, right now you'd be in a place with a bunch of sweaty guys and no T.V."

"Where they take away your guitar strings," Jim chimed.

"Anything but that," Blair shot back, sliding off the back of the couch with his guitar and heading into the kitchen. "You know, uh, I should stay in touch with her." He grabbed the bowl of dessert, suppressing a grin as he headed back to the table. "I mean, she's still pretty young, you know. What she needs is a positive influence in her life -- There's some dessert -- A role model! People change, you know."

"Why don't you do yourself a favor, Romeo?" Jim muttered, scooping some of the dessert onto his spoon. "Get some therapy."

Jim and Joel chuckled, digging into the dessert dish.

"Hmmmn. That's not bad," Jim mumbled appreciatively.

"Mmmm. It's the best of all," Joel agreed.

"What is it?" Simon inquired of the food.

Blair couldn't completely hide the smile on his face, a glint of self-satisfaction in his eyes as he moved in for the kill. "Well, actually, I take some dates, and I put them in water until they get really nice and moist, and then I add a little lemon juice, a little sugar. Then I take this and I stick it under the sink for a couple weeks, and I let it get real moldy, you know when the fur starts growing on it? It's good like that. And then, I stick it into a blender, put a little maple syrup on it, and let it go," he finished, innocently strumming his guitar, pretending he didn't notice the squeamish expressions on his friends' faces.

Jim dropped his fork back to the plate, and Simon took a long sip of wine while Joel just sat in shocked silence. Blair hummed happily at his guitar, feeling measurably better.

The End