Chasing the Blues Away

Blues Brothers Fan Fiction

By Diana C. Lampe

© 2004

Disclaimer: The Blues aren't mine! Both literally and figuratively. But I am borrowing them.

N/A: I am attempting something. This story takes place during the first Blues Brothers movie. So of course, the lines from the movie I never wrote. However, I did create college students, Cassidy and Tim. Let me know what you think. Please R/R!

- - - - -

The morning sunlight sparkled and cast shadows off the bridge supporting the Chicago Interstate. The breeze whipped through the bridge and blew back the hair of the passengers riding at a rapid pace in a beat-up cherry-red '76 Cadillac Eldorado. It was a good morning to be out of the house, but not such a good morning to go on a man-hunt for two people Tim had never seen before.

Tim Finnigan held the faded photograph up to his eyes, pulled it back, and brought it forward again. Two men, one lanky and one stout, stared back at him, their eyes encased in dark shades, their bodies held inside wrinkled black suits. "You sure you're related to these guys?"

From the driver's seat, a girl of nineteen nodded from behind her own pair of Gattaca sunglasses. "Uh-huh," she declared. She swerved the Cadillac convertible hard to the right, barely making her turn. The car rested on two wheels and then banged down against the asphalt as they continued on their way. "That's what the guy at the census office said."

Tim didn't flinch. He knew every time he got into a car with Cassidy he was putting his young life in her hands. He'd gotten used to the trauma. Now, he barely even registered it was there. He put the photograph back down on the dashboard. "They look like bible salesmen."

"Hey," she snapped at him. She grabbed the photograph and swung the wheel to avoid smashing the car into a dump truck. As they barely skimmed the huge truck teeming with garbage, the shocked driver leaned on the horn and flipped her off as they passed. "Those 'bible salesmen' are my uncles. And the only living relatives I have left. Sheesh, show a little respect."

"Sorry," he said. "I call 'em as I see 'em."

Cassidy rolled her eyes as she focused on the road before them. Tim would have something negative to say about something as entirely joyous as her locating members of her basically deceased family. The first time Cassidy met him had been when she was writing an article on the Accounting Club at the local community college. She'd hated him the first time she met him. He was a killjoy, a loser, a square. But like a wart that just won't go away…Cassidy had somewhere learned to deal with him.

Tim leaned against the faded seat of the Cadillac. "Look at them. They're probably a couple of religious freaks who think they've been given some divine vocation from God."

"Look, poindexter, they are not religious freaks. And besides, what would you know about it? You've never even met them before!"

"Neither have you."

At that, Cassidy heaved a sigh. "That's besides the point."

"Well, if they ask me to try the kool-aid, I am outta there."

"Actually," Cassidy said, squealing her tires as she rounded the bend off the bridge. "While they did attend a Catholic orphanage, their records say that they've had a little-"

The unmistakable sound of police sirens blared out from behind them, quickly followed by whirling red lights that reflected off of her rear-view mirror.

"Trouble with the law," she mumbled miserably.

Cassidy's shoulders slumped while Tim had no reaction. For Cassidy Blues, it was an all too common occurrence. Frowning deeply, she very reluctantly pulled over to the side of the street.

"Looks like the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree," Tim said dryly.

Cassidy sent him a condescending look. She looked nervously into her rear view mirror. The cop was getting out of his cruiser. Underneath her shades, her brown eyes shifted back and forth.

"I'm gettin' the itch," she warned Tim.

Tim's entire demeanor changed. He quickly shook his head back and forth. "Don't do it, Cas."

With her brakes halting any progress, the engine revved as she weighed her foot on the gas pedal. "I gotta get out of here."

"Cassidy," he ordered her loudly. "Exhibit self-control. Don't you dare pull away from this police officer."

The cop was getting closer. So close he could have touched her car. "Sorry, Tim. I can't help it."

With a slam of her hand, the car was in drive and blasting back into traffic. Cars beeped and swerved to accommodate to the massive Cadillac convertible firing off down the highway. And the chase was on. The police cruiser took off along with her, lights flashing and siren sounding as they forced their way through the traffic lanes.

Groaning loudly, Tim held his head in his hands.

Against the sirens, the beeping cars, and the wind rushing past them, he shouted, "Do we always have to start our mornings like this?!"

- - - - -

At the same time, on a dilapidated cot in a Joliet jail cell, Jake Blues was awakening from a very full and soporific night's sleep. Normally, his nights were restless, spent tossing and turning, or dreaming fitfully of microphones he'd never sing from and guitars he'd never play. But last night was officially the last night he would be spending in the cooler. He was leaving. He was hitting the road. He was ditching this popsicle stand, and leaving the big house as an honest-to-God free man.

He was straight with the law. He'd done his time.

Now, all that was left was the little matter of returning to… He thought the word with a reverence only seen in the deeply religious. The Band.

It was the only thing that had held him together in the slammer. Besides being reunited with his brother (which he was equally anticipating), it was the only thing he had to look forward to.

So engrossed was Jake in contemplating life as a law-abiding citizen, that he barely even noticed the two guards who appeared before his jail cell. Standing, he waited as the jail cell shifted, clanking noisily until it opened all the way. Looking to each of the guards, Jake was escorted down a jail hall and into the main office. The first office he'd come to as a prisoner.

"Well," one of the guards said. "This is it."

It certainly was, Jake thought. It was amazing to the reformed musician how in the end everything came full circle.