Title: - Predator.

Author: - Katt.

E-mail: - kattanon@hotmail.com

Rating: - NC-17.

Pairing: - Dutch/m.

Warning: - This fic will contain non-con, if this subject upsets you please read no further.

Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know.

Archive: - I’d be honoured, just let me know. Archived at the Shield Fanfiction Archive.

Disclaimer: - I don’t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.


Predator.
By Katt

Jesus, no wonder Aceveda wanted to go into politics he sure liked the sound of his own voice, Vic thought. Vic had kinda tuned him out five minutes ago, as he briefed the Strike Team, a team of detectives and some agents from the ATF, about the imminent raid on a gang of Mexican gun runners who were holed up in Farmington. Vic knew the drill, hell he’d helped come up with the plan, so listening to Aceveda huff and puff wasn’t on his list of fun things to do.

Glancing around the room he had to smile when he noticed he wasn’t the only one who was bored. A couple of seats away Nick Johannson had partially turned in his chair, and was gazing back out at the squad room. From what he’d seen of Johannson Vic kinda liked the guy. He was new; a detective who’d transferred in a couple of days ago from the Westwood division. He was in his early to mid forties and well built, he even had a couple of inches over Dutch in height, and he obviously kept in shape with a strong muscular build. Vic had heard he was an ex-marine, and he could well believe it. He was also a real street cop, and from what he’d seen Vic liked his style, he didn’t take any shit from anybody.

Vic looked back at Aceveda, but he was still droning on, pointing to a map of the warehouse district where the raid would be going down. Flicking his eyes around the room he found his gaze resting on Johannson once more. Something in Johannson’s expression piqued Vic’s interest. Vic knew that look; Johannson was checking someone out. Johannson’s eyes were slowly following somebody as they walked through the squad room, his interest plain to see. Vic smiled to himself, and curious, turned to see whom Johannson was interested in. He was guessing maybe Danny, or one of the other female uniforms.

Vic couldn’t help feeling a little surprised when, following Johannson’s line of sight, he realised he was watching Claudette. Her and Dutch had been out on what sounded like a pretty routine double homicide. A wife and her lover caught out by a suspicious husband armed with a gun. They’d obviously finished up at the crime scene, and had probably returned to the Barn with the suspect in custody ready to get a confession, and clear up the paperwork. Vic supposed he shouldn’t be surprised, after all for an older woman he supposed Claudette wasn’t bad. Johannson obviously thought so, his eyes never left her and Dutch as they made their way through the squad room towards their desks. So Claudette had an admirer, Vic thought to himself mildly amused. Claudette paused, and strolled over to the filing cabinets, pulling open the top drawer of one, looking for something. Vic was surprised when Johannson’s intense gaze didn’t remain on her, but kept moving. Puzzled Vic turned to look again, and realised with a start that he’d been mistaken, assuming Johannson had been watching Claudette. Shit, he wasn’t watching Claudette he was checking out Dutchboy. There was no doubt about it, Johannson watched as Dutch made his way over to his desk, his eyes never leaving him. Glancing at Dutch as he pulled open a desk drawer and dropped his gun in, and then pulled off his suit jacket and draped it over the back of his chair, it was obvious that he was totally oblivious to the close scrutiny he was getting.

In the meantime, Claudette had got the file she’d wanted, and had returned to her desk, sitting down and opening up the file. She looked down at it, and then said something to Dutch, who went over to her. As Vic watched Claudette pointed to something in the file, and Dutch, wanting to get a better look, leaned forward putting one hand down on Claudette’s desk, and the other on the arm of her chair. Looking quickly back at Johannson, Vic couldn’t quite believe it when he saw that he was actually checking out Dutchboy’s ass as he bent over Claudette’s desk. However, his amusement faded slightly when he looked more closely at Johannson. The expression on his face as he looked at Dutch was intense. There was a brief glimpse of an open hunger there that made Vic feel suddenly uncomfortable.

Just then the scrap of chairs, as everyone around them began to move, signaled that the operation was about to get under way. Time for Vic to turn his attention back the matter at hand, but he made a note to himself to keep an eye on Johannson. That appraising look that he’d been giving Dutch suddenly reminded Vic of the look a predator had when it had just spotted it’s prey.

*

The warehouse raid had gone like clockwork. The Mexicans had been caught with their pants down, literally for one, who’d been in a backroom screwing some local senorita when Vic and Shane had dropped in for a little coitus interruptus. Not only had they scooped up all the gang, they’d stopped enough weapons to start several gang wars from hitting the streets, as well as the added bonus of two kilos of cocaine. All in all not a bad couple of hour’s work, Vic thought to himself.

Vic had kept an eye on Johannson at the raid, as much as he could anyway during all the excitement. From what he’d seen Vic’s first impression of the guy seemed to be correct. He’d been quick, efficient and tough, just the kinda guy you’d want watching your back. Vic was beginning to wonder if maybe he was judging him too harshly. After all what had he really seen? So Johannson liked guys, that didn’t bother Vic, and he’d been eyeing Dutch up, but was it really any of Vic’s business? Dutch was a big boy, and Vic was sure he could look after himself, and besides Johannson had only looked, no harm in that. Dutch hadn’t even noticed, so what did it matter? The memory of that hungry, predatory look that had momentarily been on Johannson’s face returned, but Vic pushed it aside, deciding he was being paranoid.

The ATF agents were up in Aceveda’s office, all patting each other on the back. While Aceveda was no doubt, rubbing his hands with glee at the politically opportune headlines that would be in tomorrow’s newspapers. Meanwhile, those who’d actually done most of the real work, the Strike Team, and their fellow detectives, were all having to complete the paperwork, write reports and statements. Vic was taking a break from the paper pushing to grab himself a soda from the breakroom. As he passed through the squad room he couldn’t help but notice that there, sitting perched on the edge of Dutch’s desk, talking to him, was Johannson.

Vic briefly wondered if he should say something to Dutch, warn him of Johannson’s interest in him. Oh yeah, he thought to himself, what am I supposed to say, "Hey Dutch watch out the new guy was checking out your ass earlier, and I think he saw something he liked." Vic snorted under his breath, as if Dutch was gonna believe him if he did tell him. He’d probably think it was some kind of a practical joke or something.

One part of Vic was still of the opinion that the whole thing was really none of his business. After all if Johannson went as far as propositioning Dutch all Dutch had to do was say no right, no big deal. In fact, for a moment Vic wished he could be a fly on the wall if Johannson did come on to Dutch. God, he could just imagine Dutchboy’s reaction. He wasn’t exactly a "people person" at the best of times, having Johannson ask him out on a date or something would probably completely freak him out. However, the smirk that had formed on Vic’s face at that thought soon disappeared, because as much as Vic tried to bury his concerns, that little glimmer of worry was still nagging away at him. Shit, Vic thought, maybe next time he’d pay more attention to Aceveda’s speeches, and less attention to his co-workers business. It would make his life a hell of a lot easier.




Chapter 2.

Dutch searched his desk, and the floor around his desk, for his pen, knowing at once that the search was futile. He straightened up and leaned back in his chair, blowing out an annoyed breath. This was really starting to piss him off. It wasn’t funny anymore; not that he’d ever really found it amusing in the first place. It was just so juvenile. He wasn’t sure who was doing it, although he suspected someone on the Strike Team, probably Vendrell. It was the kind of high school mentality he’d come to expect from Vic Mackey’s "boys". Hell it was an attitude Mackey himself seemed to encourage, revel in even. However, when he’d confronted Vendrell about it a couple of days ago the guy had denied everything. He’d implied that maybe Dutch was starting to crack up under the pressure, becoming paranoid, imaging things. God, heavens help him, but maybe the ill-mannered redneck was right.

Claudette looked across at him from where she sat at her own desk, and with a slightly exasperated tone to her voice, she asked him,

"What is it this time?"

Glancing at her he shrugged as he replied, "Another pen…Christ I must be keeping the stationary industry going single-handedly."

Claudette let out a little snort of amusement at his comment. Then reaching out to the little pot she kept on her desk, a little something her daughter Bonnie had presented her with one Mother’s Day when she was still in elementary school, she pulled out a spare pen, and chucked it over to Dutch,

"Here have one of mine."

"Thanks," he said with a sheepish smile, and he focused his attention on the incident report in front of him.

Claudette paused for a moment before returning to her own paperwork, and regarded her partner. She knew that he’d been putting the events of the past couple of weeks down to some childish prankster, but she wasn’t quite so sure if that was the correct interpretation of what was happening. To put it quite simply Dutch’s possessions kept going missing. Pens, notebooks, pencils, a tie, a handkerchief, and even the nameplate from the front of his desk. They’d all been there one minute, and then turn your back for a second, and they’d have mysteriously disappeared.

It had been driving Dutch nuts trying to figure out who could be doing it, and he was convinced the Strike Team had something to do with it. She’d wondered if it was them too, but a quiet word with Vic had convinced her otherwise. He’d assured her that none of them had had anything to do with it. Then he reminded her of his promise not to pull anymore stunts on Dutch after she’d had words with him when she’d discovered it was him, and his team, that were continually stealing Dutch’s chair when The Barn had first opened. That incident had ticked her off because she found that the line between a little work-place ribbing, and full-blown bullying was often a thin one. Of course Dutch had never found out that she’d stepped in on his behalf, all he knew was the chair stealing had stopped, and while he’d tried to shrug it off as unimportant, Claudette had noticed his relief.

Claudette hastily repressed the sigh that had been about to escape from her mouth, not wanting Dutch to hear it, and perhaps realize she’d been studying him. Looking down at the papers in front of her she tried to concentrate on the job at hand. She actually managed to stay focused on her work pretty well until a voice off to her left caused her to look up again.

"Hey, Dutch are you busy?"

She felt a little spike of annoyance flash through her as she recognised that voice as belonging to Nick Johannson. She didn’t know why, but she really couldn’t stand the man. She even felt a little guilty for her almost irrational dislike of him. She acknowledged that she certainly seemed to be in the minority where her opinion of Johannson was concerned. Everybody seemed to love the guy, and really what was there not to like. He was polite and pleasant, a good cop, always ready to do you a favour, help you out if you needed it. He fitted in with the guys, and yet didn’t treat the female officers as inferior, or as sex objects. Nick Johannson was everybody’s friend, and Claudette loathed him. He made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she just didn’t know why.

When she looked across towards Dutch again, at the sound of Johannson’s voice, her irritation with the man went up a notch or two, when she noted he was sitting on the corner of Dutch’s desk. Jesus, for some reason she really hated it when he did that and again it seemed to be a completely irrational reaction, and that realisation just irked her even more.

At Johannson’s question Dutch had looked up, and smiled, putting his pen down he replied, "Nothing that can’t wait Nick. What do you need?"

"Well," Johannson said, " I’m trying to get a handle on the motives of my homeless guy’s killer, and I know you’re a bit of an expert in profiling techniques, so I wondered if you could spare me ten minutes to give me some help?"

Dutch flushed slightly at Johannson’s praise, and stood up saying, "Oh…sure no problem, but I wouldn’t exactly say I’m an expert."

"Ah, that’s not what I hear. I’ve heard all about that "Streetwalker Strangler" case you cracked, and the way you figured out there was a serial killer on the loose before anyone else. You’re just being too modest Dutch."

"Yeah well…" Dutch said, becoming a little flustered, just like he always did when someone praised him up.

As Claudette watched they both turned towards Johannson’s desk, and as they began to move towards it Johannson told Dutch, "All my paperwork’s over here."

Then he reached up and rested his hand lightly, and briefly, on the small of Dutch’s back.

Dutch didn’t seem to take any notice of the slight touch, but Claudette felt a shiver go down her spine at the sight of it.

Johannson was always doing that she’d noticed, always touching Dutch. A hand on his back, his shoulder, on his arm, always touch, touch, touch. It might not have bothered her so much if Johannson was just a tactile kinda guy. She knew perfectly well that some people were just naturally more touchy-feely than others. However, from what she’d observed all of Johannson’s touchy-feely was strictly reserved for Dutch, and she didn’t like it.

Surprisingly Dutch didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, she wasn’t entirely sure if he noticed just how much Johansson touched him. Dutch just seemed pleased, and a little flattered, that a guy like Johannson seemed to like him. She knew this was a manifestation of Dutch’s insecurities, and it was kinda like being back at high school again, where it felt so good to be liked by the cool, popular kids. He’d seemed genuinely shocked, and puzzled, the one time she’d mentioned that she didn’t like Johannson, and her own inability to explain why hadn’t helped to sway him to her way of thinking.

Turning away from the two men with a frown Claudette suddenly realised that she wasn’t the only one watching them, and from the expression on Vic’s face she wasn’t the only one who didn’t like what they were seeing.

Suddenly sensing her scrutiny Vic looked towards her, and for a second their eyes locked. A second was all Claudette needed to note the concern, and discomfort, in Vic’s eyes. Then Vic looked away and walked quickly into the bathroom. Sensing that Vic knew something about Johannson, and whatever that knowledge was it was bothering him, Claudette got up and followed him.

When she pushed open the bathroom door and stepped inside Vic was just exiting the cubicle. She noticed that he winced slightly when he saw it was her, but quickly covered it saying,

"It’s all yours." As he indicated the now empty cubicle behind him.

Than he made his way over to the sink, and began to wash his hands.

Claudette didn’t say anything, and didn’t move, leaning back against the door silently watching Vic. He tried to ignore her, but he couldn’t stand the silent scrutiny, and as he dried his hands on a paper towel he finally gave up the pretense, and said, "What?"

"What do you know about Johannson?" Claudette asked him.

Vic shrugged and replied,

"Not a lot. He seems nice enough; he’s a good cop. What else is there to know?"

A cold smile formed on her face as she listened to the tone of Vic’s voice, as opposed to the actual words he used, and she said, "You don’t like him anymore than I do. But why? He strikes me as just your type of guy. So what do you know about him that makes you dislike him?"

Vic shrugged, but refused to meet her eye, as he tried to be evasive, "I don’t know what you’re talking about Claudette. I don’t know him well enough to have an opinion about him one way or the other. Now if you’ll excuse me I’ve got work to do."

He took a step towards the door, but Claudette didn’t move, and still barred his way from it.

"I saw the look on your face just now Vic, the look in your eyes while you watched him and Dutch together. What did you see that worried you?"

Vic’s face hardened, and he sounded annoyed when he told her,

"I don’t know what you’re talking about Claudette. Now can you please move."

Hesitating briefly Claudette finally stood to one side to let him pass. As Vic reached out, and grasped the door handle, pulling open the door, she said to him in a quiet voice, "Dutch is my partner Vic, if you know something that I should know I’d appreciate a head’s up."

Vic didn’t look at her, but he did pause half way out of the door, and he replied, "Just keep an eye on him Claudette," Vic laughed softly, although the sound of it chilled Claudette as it seemed devoid of any mirth, before he continued, "keep as much of an eye on him as Johannson does."

Then, with that cryptic comment, he was gone, leaving Claudette with a lot to think about.



Chapter 3.

Vic was pissed, he knew it, and so did the rest of the team. The atmosphere in the Navigator was tense, everyone quiet and on edge, and he knew it was his fault. They were watching a chop shop, which was doubling as a drug distribution centre. Not content with stolen cars the owner thought he could muscle in on the local drug action, and Vic couldn’t allow that. So they were just waiting for a couple of his teenage dealers to turn up for new supplies, and then they’d strike and close the place down. However, the little shits were late, and so they were all stuck here in the car waiting.

Lem had asked him what was wrong about twenty minutes ago, but had shut up when Vic had snapped his head off. Vic knew he was being unfair, but he couldn’t help himself. This whole situation with Dutch and Nick Johannson had been playing on his mind for weeks, and then he’d had his little confrontation with Claudette in the bathroom just before he’d left for this stake-out.

Not for the first time he wished he’d paid more attention to Aceveda’s speeches that day they’d gone on the gun’s raid, and less to Johannson. Then he wouldn’t know anything about this whole fucked up situation, and it wouldn’t be nagging away at the back of his mind constantly, worrying him and making him irritable.

Since he’d first noticed Johannson’s interest in Dutch he’d kept an eye on things, and he hadn’t liked what he’d been seeing.

Johannson had wheedled his way into just about everybody’s good books. Everybody seemed to love the asshole. He’d tried it with Vic a couple of times, but Vic hadn’t been buying it. That look of hunger that had been on his face when he’d been looking at Dutch that day had played on Vic’s mind. He had the distinct impression that he’d caught a glimpse of the real Nick Johannson then, he’d caught a glimpse of what lurked under the mask. So when Johannson had made overtures of friendship towards him, Vic had been polite, but cold. After a couple of attempts Johannson had gotten the message and had given up. From what Vic had observed the guy was pretty shrewd when it came to other people, and he’d obviously realised he was having no luck with Vic, and so had cut his losses and moved on.

However, he didn’t have such a problem with Dutchboy, Vic noticed. Johannson played him like a virtuoso. He flattered Dutch, and praised him, made a point of seeking out his opinion, and stuck up for him if he was being teased by a couple of the other guys. In other words he took every one of Dutchboy’s insecurities and played them to his own advantage. Vic had to grudgingly admit the guy was an artist. A master manipulator and he had Dutch eating out of his hand.

This manipulative behaviour towards Dutch, towards everyone around him, would’ve bothered Vic on its own, but that wasn’t all he’d become aware of. There was Dutch’s missing stuff, now that was just plain creepy. A couple of days ago Dutch had cornered Shane in the break room, and had accused him of taking it as part of some kind of prank. However, Shane had completely denied any knowledge of Dutch’s missing possessions, and had implied that Dutch was being paranoid. Shane had laughed it off, and Vic was positive he hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d had nothing to do with it. Besides Vic had another suspect in mind over the theft of Dutch’s things, Johannson. It was an uncomfortable thought that would indicate an unhealthy obsession, but it would fit in with the other behaviour Vic had observed.

Johannson spent an inordinate amount of time just watching Dutch. Always surreptitiously, from a distance, but once his eyes found him they wouldn’t leave him. It was always with that singularly intense gaze, such as he had used that first day. Vic had done a little watching of his own. He’d seen the way Johannson looked at Dutch when he thought no one else was looking. The way his eyes devoured the younger man. Vic could definitely say he understood the phrase "undress someone with your eyes", because that was exactly what Johannson did, and it made Vic distinctly uncomfortable. It wasn’t the fact that Johannson was looking at another man that bothered him, it was the surreptitious, intense nature of it. Dutch was completely unaware of the scrutiny he was getting, and Vic found that made him uncomfortable, because it was as if Johannson was indulging in fantasy’s at Dutch’s expense, almost against his will.

Not that Johannson was leaving it at looking. The touching had started just over a week ago. Nothing serious, it wasn’t like the guy grabbed Dutch’s ass or anything. No it was way subtler than that. Little pats on the arm, a squeeze of a shoulder, a slight brush of fingertips on his back. It was never anything too invasive, and in fact Vic didn’t think Dutch even noticed it, but it was as if Johannson was marking what was his. Claiming Dutch with his touch.

Vic had had this impression of Johannson’s motives re-enforced when Johannson had finally noticed Vic was watching him. Or to be more accurate probably, he’d finally acknowledged to Vic that he realised it. It had been two days ago, and Vic had been passing in front of Dutch’s desk, when he’d noticed Johannson talking to Dutch. Just like today Dutch had been sitting down and Johannson had been perched on a corner of his desk. Johannson had said something that had made Dutch laugh, then Johannson had gotten up to go back to his own desk. As he had he’d passed behind Dutch and he’d looked up, his eyes locking with Vic’s. His mouth had curled up into a smirk, and he’d put out his hand and patted Dutch’s shoulder. His eyes had never left Vic’s, the smirk widening when he’d seen the annoyance in Vic’s face. God, at that moment Vic had wanted to go over and punch that smirk right off his face. The challenge had been loud and clear --- you know, I know you know, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Christ, just thinking about it produced a headache right behind Vic’s eyes. He blew out a sharp breath, and leaned his head back, avoiding looking at any of his team. Damn it he was pissed. Pissed at that manipulative dick Johannson, pissed at Dutch for being so totally clueless, and pissed at himself for caring.

After all while Dutch might be amazingly naïve sometimes, he was a grown man, and a grown man who carried a gun for Christ’s sake. So he wasn’t exactly defenseless. Then again, he thought before he could stop himself, Johannson was a big guy, powerful, an ex-marine, and Dutch wasn’t exactly street-fighter material.

For crying out loud, Vic thought, what did he think Johannson was going to do? He might be a slimy creep, but did he really think Dutch was in any danger from the guy? Maybe Shane should have called him paranoid, and not Dutch.

Anyway maybe he wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore; after all he had just given Claudette the heads up she’d asked for. Obviously she didn’t like Johannson either, although she hadn’t yet realised that his interest in her partner was sexual. Knowing Claudette though Vic was fairly confident that the realisation of what was going on would be coming pretty soon. Good, Vic thought, he’s her partner let her deal with it. He held on to that thought and tried his best to ignore the voice in the back of his mind that told him that he was already involved, and he couldn’t just wash his hands of it all.

At that moment all thoughts of Dutch, Johannson and Claudette vanished from Vic’s mind as the two pushers they’d been waiting for finally showed up, and went into the garage the team had been watching.

"Let’s go." Vic growled, looking forward to working his frustrations out on some piece of shit drug dealers.

*

Claudette lay in bed and stared up at the sliver of light that stretched half way across her bedroom ceiling. It was from the street lamp outside, it’s bright light had pierced its way through a small chink in her curtains.

She couldn’t sleep, her mind going in circles. Analyzing behaviour, remembering gestures and body language, scrutinizing overheard conversations, and finally turning over and over again those parting words from Vic that afternoon --- "Keep as much of an eye on him as Johannson does." It had all fallen into place, and try as she might to find another explanation, she knew there wasn’t one.

The only thing now was what was she going to do about it? Should she tell Dutch of her suspicions? Warn him of exactly what his new friend was interested in, and it wasn’t his profiling skills. Or maybe she should confront Johannson? Get him on his own and warn him off. Or perhaps she was over-reacting. Maybe she should sit back for the moment, and just keep an eye on things. Confirm hers and Vic’s suspicions before she made a move. Claudette sighed and guessed she had a long, and mostly sleepless, night ahead of her.



END PART 3