Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know. kattanon@hotmail.com

A story in response to Peja’s home invasion challenge.

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

Trespass

By Kattanon

Dutch and Claudette sat on opposite sides of the table in the breakroom, each intent on the pages of Claudette’s dissected newspaper that they were reading. Claudette slowly eating a salad while Dutch unenthusiastically munched his way through a slightly stale chicken salad sandwich, while wishing he’d got a plain salad too. Dutch frowned slightly when Vic and Shane came in talking loudly shattering their peace,

"So they give us all like 2 hours notice that we have to leave for three days while they fumigate the place. So I’ve got all my shit stuffed into the trunk of my car and I have to find time to trawl around the city trying to find somewhere half way decent to stay." Vic stated with a sigh as he reached into the fridge for a bottle of water.

"Yeah, well like I said you know I’m a bit short of space right now, but you’re welcome to camp out on the couch at my place." Shane offered.

Without thinking Dutch absently said,

"I’ve got a spare room you can use for a few days."

As he bit into his sandwich he suddenly realised what he’d said, shit he wondered where had that come from? The words seemed to have sprung out of the ether and shot straight out of his mouth totally bypassing his brain. What could he do, he couldn’t take it back now that he’d offered. Hopefully no one had been listening to him and if he kept his head down and just carried on as if he’d not spoken he’d get away with it. He began to chew the piece of sandwich in his mouth and tried to look innocuous focusing on the sports section of Claudette’s paper. Of course he had no such luck, after a surprised pause Vic said,

"Hey, thanks Dutchboy that’s great. I’ve got my stuff in my car, you finish at eleven right?"

Dutch looked up at him and nodded, still chewing and trying to look enthusiastic.

"Great I’ll follow you to your place in my car OK? See you at eleven." Vic said walking out with a grinning Shane before Dutch had a chance to respond.

Finally swallowing the now very unappetizing mouthful of sandwich Dutch looked up at an incredulous looking Claudette,

"Just don’t say a word, it was a moment of madness." He told her.

"My lips are sealed son." Claudette smirked, looking down at her paper again.

Several hours later after a slow and boring shift Dutch and Claudette sat at their desks sorting through some overdue paperwork. Dutch had just opened up the last file he had to go through when Vic came by slapping him on the shoulder,

"Well Dutchboy it’s eleven time to go, I’ll see you out in the car park."

Dutch glanced down at the open file on his desk,

"Actually I just wanted to finish…" Dutch’s voice petered out as he realised that Vic hadn’t even slowed down, let alone listen to what he said, and had already gone, passing out of the doors on his way to the car park.

Dutch blew his cheeks out in frustration, then sighed in resignation as he closed the file and put it away in a draw of his desk, he could always do it tomorrow morning he thought. He opened another drawer and removed his gun and car keys, as he stood he could hear Claudette trying to stifle her laughter at the desk next to his. As he passed by her he paused and leant down towards her, in a quiet voice he said,

"The next time I play the Good Samaritan, shoot me."

As he walked out he had to smile slightly as he heard Claudette’s laughter following him.

When he reached the car park Dutch found Vic was already in his car waiting, Vic waved and shouted,

"I’ll follow you."

Dutch smiled and waved back as he got into his car and pulled away from The Barn. On the way home Dutch looked into his rear view mirror and saw Vic following along behind him, for a moment he wondered if he put his foot down if he’d be able to lose him on the way. Dutch laughed at himself and decided what was done was done, he’d just have to make the best of it.

The drive home was uneventful, and when they got to Dutch’s house he helped Vic bring his stuff inside. After he’d given Vic a tour of the house assuring him that he was to help himself to anything he wanted, just as a good host should, he showed him the guest bedroom.

"Like I said make yourself at home, I’m kinda tired and think I’ll just take a shower and go straight to bed." He told Vic.

"Yeah sure, look thanks a lot for this Dutch, I really appreciate it." Vic said.

Feeling a little ashamed of himself for his earlier thoughts Dutch answered, "That’s OK, its no problem."

"Well anyway thanks. Umm I think I’ll unpack some stuff you know, and then I’ll take a shower after your finished, if that’s OK?" Vic replied looking slightly uncomfortable.

"That’s fine, I’ll see you in the morning," Dutch told him, turning away towards his bedroom.

Dutch collected his stuff from his room and returned to the bathroom for his shower. He finished quickly, aware that Vic would probably be waiting for his turn. He pulled on a tee shirt and jogging bottoms, brushed his teeth and left the bathroom.

"I’m finished," he called out to Vic. "I left some clean towels on the chair in the bathroom."

"Thanks," Vic called through the door of his room. "Goodnight."

"Oh yeah, goodnight." Dutch called back, escaping to his bedroom.

Lying in his bed Dutch could hear the shower running, it seemed strange for there to be someone else in the house, he’d gotten used to living on his own again after Lucy had left. Yawning he turned over pulling the comforter up over his shoulder and had dropped off to sleep before Vic had even finished his shower.

It seemed to Dutch that he’d only been asleep for an hour or so when something woke him up. Opening his eyes he saw a figure standing by his bed, puzzled for a second he remembered Vic,

"Remember the bathroom’s right next to your room." He mumbled turning over and closing his eyes. However, he was startled to complete wakefulness in a second when a strange voice replied,

"Thanks that’s good to know."

Dutch turned squinting his eyes against the light as his bedside lamp was switched on and found himself staring into the barrel of a gun.

Chapter 2.

Dutch was stunned for a moment, frozen in shock, he was mesmerized by the black opening of the gun barrel which was pointed at his face. He slowly looked up, careful not to make any sudden movements; the man standing over him was dressed in black and wore a black ski mask. This last fact made Dutch feel a little better, if the perpetrator was covering his face, hiding his identity it was more likely that he’d make it out of this alive.

"Jesus alright I’m moving." Vic Mackey’s pissed off voice sounded outside the door, and suddenly a second masked man pushed him into the room at gunpoint.

"Looky here we’ve got two for the price of one." The man with Vic laughed.

"Hmm that makes things more interesting don’t you think." The man holding Dutch at gunpoint replied in an amused voice.

Taking a steadying breath Dutch decided to get on with this, the sooner these two got what they wanted the sooner they’d be gone. Shit it was bad enough that this had to happen at all, but for it to happen when Vic was staying with him was just perfect. He slowly pushed himself up so he was sitting up in the bed, his open hands held out in front of him, palms facing the man nearest to him in a placating gesture,

"My wallet’s on the dresser over there, I think there’s about $40 in it that’s all the cash in the house, but my credit cards are in there. The TV, video, DVD player and stereo are downstairs in the living room, and my mobile phone and car keys are on the counter in the kitchen. Just take what you want and go."He informed them wanting this over and them out of his house as quickly as possible, he just hoped that Vic had the good sense not to antagonize them with any of his testosterone fuelled macho bullshit.

"Oh don’t worry we intend to take everything we want, but you see what we want wasn’t on that neat little list of yours." The gunman nearest to him stated, his voice still sounding amused.

Dutch frowned, confused he didn’t understand what this guy was going on about, and there was something about the amused, smug quality of his voice that sent a shiver up his spine. Dutch suddenly got the feeling that this situation was about to get ugly fast, he glanced in Vic’s direction and saw his concern echoed on his tense face. Turning back to look up at the masked man by his bed he asked,

"I don’t understand, what is it that you want then?"

"Don’t worry you’ll find out soon enough." The man replied as he stepped back, keeping the gun trained on Dutch the whole time. "Get out of bed…slowly. We don’t want any sudden movements, any misunderstandings that’ll lead to my gun going off now do we."

Left with no choice but to do as he’d been told Dutch slowly pushed the comforter away from his body and swung his legs out of the bed, slowly standing.

"Good boy, now move over there," The man used the gun to indicate that Dutch should move over to a space between the bedside table and the other wall. "When you get there turn and face the wall, use you’re hands to lean against the wall with them above your head and open your legs. I’m sure you know what I mean hmm…assume the position as they say on the cop shows."

Dutch hesitated glancing again at Vic.

"Hey!" The man shouted at him, sounding irritated, "I said get over there, now move!"

"Ok, ok I’m going." Dutch assured him, moving to the spot the man had indicated and turning his back he stood as he’d been told. He didn’t like not being able to see what was going on, and he felt horribly exposed somehow standing like that. He heard the other gunman speaking to Vic,

"Right you turn around and put your hands behind your back. Slowly and no sudden movements, be sensible like your friend over there or else you’ll be dead."

There was a pause and then the sound of a fist hitting something solid, a muffled grunt coming from Vic. Dutch began to turn his head wanting to see what had happened, but was stopped when he felt the cold metal of the gun barrel pushed hard up against his temple.

"I didn’t say you could move, face the wall, now." He was told a jab of the gun against his head emphasising the last word. Biting his lip in frustration Dutch did as he was told, and returned his gaze to the pale lemon wall in front of him. However, he felt better when he heard Vic calling the gunman who’d hit him a, "Stupid son of a bitch."

"Watch your mouth, or you’ll get another slap. Now when I said hands behind your back slowly I meant slowly…now do as you’re told." The man nearest to him told Vic. "Right that’s better." Were his next words, Dutch felt relieved that Vic was being sensible and not getting himself into any more trouble.

"Come on hurry up and tie his hands, I want to start the game." Dutch’s captor impatiently informed his partner.

So Vic’s hands were being tied behind his back Dutch figured, wondering why his hadn’t been. He also wondered what had been meant by "…the game."

"Done." Vic’s captor said.

"At last." The man next to Dutch huffed.

Dutch felt a hand grab the back of his tee shirt at the neck and pull back on it, "Alright stand up straight." He was instructed. Feeling the neck at the front of the shirt being pulled tightly across the front of his throat he quickly complied, relieved when the hand was removed and the material of the shirt ceased to cut into his skin. "Turn around and keep it nice and slow."

When he’d done as he was told Dutch saw that his suspicions concerning Vic were correct, his arms were drawn behind him and it was obvious that he’d had his hands tied together. At least he looked alright, whatever the blow that he’d heard being inflicted on Vic hadn’t left a visible mark or drawn blood which was a relief. Dutch still hoped that whatever was going on that he and Vic would get out of it relatively unharmed. Deep down Dutch felt a little guilty that Vic was here at all, if he’d kept his mouth shut earlier he would be safely asleep on Shane Vendrell’s couch. Of course he felt even guiltier when he realised he was actually a little glad that Vic was here, at least he wasn’t alone with the two intruders.

There was a strange moment of silence as the four of them regarded each other; it was Vic, who finally broke it,

"What do you want, why don’t you just take the stuff and go?"

"Like I told sleeping beauty here," The perp by Dutch replied, his voice once again taking on that amused tone. "We aren’t here for money and videos."

"What then?" Vic asked again.

The man by Vic laughed,

"Go on tell them, I can’t wait to see their faces."

The man by Dutch, who seemed to be the leader of the two men, moved slightly so he could see both Dutch’s and Vic’s faces at the same time. Pausing for a second he finally began,

"Well see it’s like this the four of us are going to play a little game, now the name of this game is screw or die. Here are the rules, they’re pretty simple really, and two smart guys like you should have no problem understanding them. See first I’m going to fuck sleeping beauty here and then when I’m done my friend there is going to fuck him, and he’s going to let us, because if he doesn’t the tough guy over there gets his head blown off and we fuck him anyway. Now you’re probably wondering why we don’t just do that anyway, but you see we find this more amusing and a good game should always be amusing don’t you think? Of course you have to get a prize if you play by the rules and that prize will be your lives, if you cooperate you both get to live, if not then bang!" As he said this he aimed his gun at Vic and mimicked firing it.

Vic’s response was immediate,

"Fuck you you prick!"

"No actually it’s fuck him," The first gunman replied, nodding his head in Dutch’s direction.

He then turned to the gunman next to Vic and nodded, the man immediately shoved his gun under Vic’s chin pushing his head up at an uncomfortable angle. Turning back to Dutch the first man merely said one word, "Strip."

Dutch’s mind was in turmoil, panic welling up inside him. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard, Jesus what was he going to do. He turned towards Vic their eyes locked.

"I said strip." The gunman’s calm voice sounded again.

Chapter 3.

Dutch stared at Vic, frozen he stood like a deer caught in the head lights, his face draining of colour as the enormity of the gunman’s words sunk in. Tearing his gaze away from Vic’s as the gunman repeated his order for him to strip he turned to the man,

"Your joking right…I mean…I mean you can’t be serious?" He managed to stammer out.

"Oh we’re perfectly serious. Now I’m not a patient man so you’d better start concentrating and doing as you’re told or your friend over there is going to have a pretty short life span." He was told. "Strip!"

Dutch realised to his horror that they were indeed serious and glancing at the man who held a gun on Vic he was sure he saw his trigger finger twitch. Finding his voice he said,

"Alright, alright just…can you take the gun away from his head. God what if it goes off by accident or something…please just don’t point it at him ok?"

"Fine." The man by Dutch said nodding to his partner who lowered his gun letting Vic lower his head from the uncomfortable angle it had been held at. "But keep the gun on him, I don’t trust him not to try and be a hero." He added, eliciting a chuckle from his friend.

He turned back to Dutch and stood there looking at him expectantly, slowly and reluctantly Dutch reached down taking hold of the bottom of his tee shirt and pulled it up and over his head. He stood for a moment with it in his hands, not sure what to do with it, wishing he could disappear, melt through the floor anything just escape from here, from now, then he thought of Vic and felt guilty for his selfishness he wasn’t alone in this ordeal. Dropping the tee shirt to the floor in front of him Dutch took a steadying breath and prepared to push his jogging bottoms down his legs. He looked at the man in front of him wishing he could smack that self-satisfied smirk from his face.
Dropping his eyes to the floor Dutch pushed the jogging bottoms down, glad that he had worn a pair of boxer shorts underneath. Once he’d stepped out of the material pooled at his feet he kept hold of it and held it in front of himself like a shield.

"All of it." The man told him.

Dutch looked him in the eye,

"Don’t." Was all he asked.

The gunman cocked his head to the side and smiled at him,

"Now." He replied in a laughing tone.

He dropped the jogging bottoms to the floor to join the discarded tee shirt and he bit his bottom lip in nervousness as he pushed his shorts down. Straightening up and stepping out of them he could feel his face burning in humiliation, his hands automatically went to his crotch, covering his
genitals. The man in front of him laughed at him and said,

"Put your hands on your head so I can get a proper look at you."

It was Vic who spoke then,

"Oh Christ stop it, leave him alone. Just take the money and go, look I’ve got a couple of hundred bucks back in the other room, just take that and leave."

"Money, money, money is that all you two think about. Some things are more important than money, and much more fun." The leader of the two men told him in a fake disapproving tone. "Now put your hands on your head, you know what’ll happen if you don’t." He then told Dutch.

Dutch dropped his gaze to the floor as he complied, he could feel himself blushing, and somehow that just added to his embarrassment. He was mortified when he realised the man by him was walking slowly around him inspecting him like a piece of meat.

"Nice, a bit skinny, but nice." The man murmured.

Dutch felt himself go even redder when he heard this, although he hadn’t thought that was possible.

"Oh look doesn’t he blush nicely." The man said and his partner laughed. "Shy are you hmm?" He asked as he stood behind Dutch and he leaned in close to him.

Dutch started, a small cry of surprise escaping from him as the man touched him, lightly brushing his fingertips across his shoulders, Dutch shivered as the touch left him. The man moved around to stand in front of Dutch and he placed one finger under his chin applying pressure and said,

"Look up, look at me."

Reluctantly Dutch obeyed and found himself looking into the other man’s blue eyes. The man was about an inch taller than Dutch, but with a bigger more muscular build. The man just stared at him, completely focused on him, it was as if Vic and the other man had ceased to exist, Dutch found it unnerving and dropped his eyes again.

"You can put your hands down now." He told Dutch. "But keep them at your side." He quickly added when he saw that Dutch was going to cover himself again.

Dutch could feel his heart thudding in his chest, a roaring filled his ears as the moment seemed to stretch on and on, in the end he almost asked the man to do or say something, that moment of anticipation excruciating. The moment was broken by the man’s voice calmly telling him,

"Reach out, undo my zipper and pull out my dick."

Dutch’s eyes flicked back up to the man’s face, trying to gauge if he was serious, the determined look in his eyes told him he was. Dutch felt his mouth go dry with fear as he hesitated, he knew that once he complied events would be set into motion that he couldn’t control, events that he wasn’t sure he’d survive. Seeing his hesitation the man said,

"If you don’t you know what’s going to happen. You’re going to get fucked either way, but this way if you cooperate you can at least save your friend’s life. Do you really want his death on your conscience?"

Dutch heard Vic’s voice then, barely controlled anger evident in every syllable,

"Oh, fuck…you bastard."

Dutch wanted to look at him, he wanted to look in Vic’s eyes, for what he wasn’t sure, strength, forgiveness; there was one thing he was sure of though, that when this was over if they both survived he’d never be able to look Vic in the eye again, he’d be too ashamed. His hand was shaking as he reached out, his fingers fumbling with the zipper. The sound of the zipper being pulled down was deafening to Dutch’s ears, competing with the frantic thudding of his heartbeat. He reached slowly inside, his fingertips brushing against the cotton of the other man’s underwear as he found the opening at the front of his shorts. Dutch had to swallow down bile as it rose in his
throat as his fingers touched the burning heat of the man’s skin. The man didn’t react at all he didn’t move, just stood completely still in front of Dutch watching his face, watching the cavalcade of emotions as they tumbled by one after another, shame, fear, disgust, uncertainty. Dutch tentatively gripped the other man’s semi-erect penis, pulling it free from his trousers, his gaze shifting to the side, not wanting to see it, not wanting to see his hand touching it. Not sure what he was supposed to do he stayed like that, his hand still trembling.

"Good, see that wasn’t so hard now was it?" The man spoke again. "Now get on your knees."

Dutch pulled his hand away, his mind in a whirl as the implication of what was going to happen next hung heavy in the air. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, he felt weak but he couldn’t stop himself from looking back up at the man and asking,

"Please don’t…don’t do this…don’t make me do this…I…I don’t want to."

It sounded pathetic even to his ears, but it just spilled from his lips. The man smiled at him again and said,

"That’s the whole point, haven’t you realised that yet. Now do as I say."

Knowing he had no choice, Dutch dropped to his knees in front of the man feeling everything he held dear about his life, about himself slipping away from him, about to be lost forever.

Chapter 4.

He wore a slightly battered pair of Reebok training shoes, one lace fraying at the end; Dutch studied the gunman’s shoes trying to keep the panic he could feel welling up in his chest at bay.

"Don’t look at the floor, look at me." He was told.

Reluctantly he tore his gaze away from the Reebok’s and looked up at his tormentor.

"That’s better…now have you ever sucked a guy’s dick before?" The man asked him.

For a second Dutch had a hysterical urge to laugh, what was this some kind of survey into his sexual experience. Instead of a laugh however a slight whimper escaped him as he shook his head.

"I didn’t think so," The other man said, almost kindly. "Well never mind, what you lack in experience I expect you to make up for in enthusiasm."

Dutch didn’t move just stayed there on his knees staring up at the other man.

"Well?" The man asked.

Dutch actually glanced at the man’s penis which was right in front of him and then back up at the man’s face, swallowing he said in a quiet, trembling voice,

"I don’t think I can."

The man turned from him and nodded to his partner and once again Dutch heard Vic grunt in pain as he was punched. He didn’t want to hear that sound again so closing his eyes he opened his mouth and leant forward resting his hands on his thighs and took the gunman’s penis into his mouth. He gagged on the musky smell of the other man, on the taste of sweat and even urine on his tongue. God he thought, how do women do this it was disgusting. He heard a sigh from the man standing over him and felt him reach down and grasp his hair.

"Well don’t just sit there… suck it boy." The man ordered him the grip in his hair tightening.

Dutch heard himself sob and felt tears spilling down his cheeks as he complied. He heard that sound again, Vic being hit, and then the other gunman’s voice sneering at Vic,

"Open your eyes and watch, he’s doing this for you."

Dutch felt a wave of shame wash over him. They were standing side onto Vic and the other man so he knew that right now Vic was watching him kneeling on the floor, crying, with some guy’s dick in his mouth, giving him a blow job. The man above him groaned and began to move his hips thrusting his dick into Dutch’s mouth, making him gag. He could feel the man’s penis growing in his mouth, and then Dutch tasted a salty, bitterness on his tongue, the man’s pre-cum.

"Oh fuck yeah, that’s it." He heard the man groaning as his erection banged against the back of his throat.

Dutch tried to breathe around the other man’s flesh, trying to pull in a breath when he pulled out slightly before slamming back into his mouth. He was left gasping for breath when the man suddenly withdrew, letting go of his hair and stepping back.

"Oh no not that easy…I got something even better than that planned for you." The gunman told him as he reached down grabbing Dutch by the hair again and pulling him upright, the other gunman was prodding Vic in the back with his gun, moving him to stand near them. Dutch caught a glimpse of Vic’s face, his mouth drawn into a tight line, his eyes blazing anger and he wondered how much of that angry, disapproving expression was aimed at him. He felt sure that Vic must be disgusted with him, must think him weak, Dutch quickly turned his face away from him.

"Here take my gun and make sure you keep a close eye on that one." The man who held Dutch told his friend.

"Yeah sure I know. Just get on with it man I’m still waiting for my turn you know." The other man replied impatiently.

"I can see that." The leader of the two of them laughed.

Dutch couldn’t help himself, he glanced at the man holding Vic in curiosity and instantly regretted it when he saw him rub at the obvious bulge at the crotch of his trousers. He saw the man push Vic down onto his knees and stand behind him the gun pointed at the back of his bowed head. Then he was pulled away by the vicious hand in his hair, pulled towards his bed. Instinctively he tried to dig his feet in, pulling back, not wanting to go there. The man reached out and used his other hand to grab Dutch’s arm in a bruising grip,

"Don’t fuck with me." He hissed his tone dangerous.

Once at the bed he let go of Dutch’s hair, though he still held on tightly to his arm, and reached up pulling Dutch’s pillows down to the middle of the bed one on top of the other.

"Get on the bed," He told Dutch. "Lie on your back and make sure those pillows are under your ass. I want to be able to look into your eyes while I fuck you."

Dutch froze, staring at the bed, at the pillows, his mind shutting down as fear consumed him. He began shaking his head, taking a tentative step backwards,

"No, no, no, no, no…" He muttered.

He felt a fist punching him in the face, his lip splitting open and blood in his mouth. He stumbled back, half falling onto the bed, then he had the gunman’s face in his, spitting venom at him,

"Get up on that bed now or you can watch while I kick the shit out of your friend over there."

Dutch reached up a shaking hand to his mouth wiping away some of the blood as he reluctantly obeyed, realizing he had no choice, that he’d never had a choice.

Chapter 5.

Dutch lay on his back staring up at his bedroom ceiling and he’d never felt so exposed in his life. He felt completely rigid every muscle in his body clenched tight with tension and fear. His hands were held in fists at his sides, his legs clamped together so tight that it felt as if it would take a
crow bar to open them, sadly he knew that in reality all it would take would be more violence or the threat of violence against Vic. He heard a thump on the floor and turning his head slightly to the side he saw one of the gunman’s slightly battered Reeboks hitting the floor as he slipped first one then the other shoe off. When he began to undo his trousers Dutch resolutely turned his gaze back to the ceiling, trying unsuccessfully to blink away the tears which were blurring his vision, instead he felt the tears escaping from the corners of his eyes and slide into his hair. For a second he wished it was Vic lying here instead of him, why had they chosen him instead of Vic, he felt guilty for wishing this on anyone, but he just didn’t want it to be him. He felt the bed dip as the gunman, soon to be his rapist, sat on the edge and flinched when he felt the man’s hand come to rest on his thigh. It didn’t move just rested there the heat of it burning him. He jumped again when the man spoke to him,

"I’ll bet you’ve never been fucked up the ass before have you?"

Dutch didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say, not sure if he could even speak if he tried.

"I asked you a question." The man said squeezing Dutch’s thigh hard with his hand.

Dutch just shook his head.

"Never mind I like it that way…I like breaking in virgins." The man laughed, his grip on Dutch’s thigh lessening as he rubbed his hand up and down over the area he’d just bruised.

The hand continued to move stroking its way up over his hip across his stomach, Dutch could feel his stomach muscles fluttering as the light touch danced over them.

"You should relax, you’re so tense." The man mocked him, making fun of his fear.

That polluting hand carried on stroking its way up to Dutch’s chest, fingering first one nipple and then the other, and then up to the side of his face where it stopped the palm gently cupping his cheek. The pressure increased on his cheek as the man turned Dutch’s face towards him, Dutch felt the bed dipping even lower as the man leaned forward over him. Dutch found himself looking into a pair of cold blue eyes as the gunman leaned even closer, his face just a inch from Dutch’s.

"If you bite me your friend will suffer." He warned.

Then he closed the gap between them his lips on Dutch’s as he kissed him. Dutch instinctively tried to pull away but he was trapped between the man above him and the bed below him with no where to go. He felt the man’s tongue like a serpent pushing his lips apart, pushing itself into his mouth. The man groaned into his mouth as his hand moved from Dutch’s face travelling down over his body coming to rest on his genitals, the man possessively squeezing his flaccid penis. His hard, rough touch made Dutch gasp in pain and the man’s kiss deepened, his mouth becoming bruising, his touch rougher. Suddenly Dutch started in pain as the man bit down on his lower lip, breaking the skin adding more blood to what was already there from the punch earlier. When the man pulled his head back Dutch felt disgust well up inside him when he saw his blood on the other man’s lips. Dutch felt cold fear coil in his gut when he saw the lust which was burning in the other man’s eyes and he knew this was it, it was really going to happen, he was really going to be raped. There wasn’t going to be some last minute rescue, Vic wasn’t going to come up with a fiendish plan and save him, the half naked man who’s erection he could feel digging into his hip wasn’t going to laugh and say,

"Hey just a joke…just fucking with you man, now where did you say the DVD player was?"

No this was real, it was really going to happen, and he did the one thing he didn’t want to do, the one thing he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do, he turned his head towards Vic and looked him in the eyes and said,

"Vic please help me…do something…help me…p…pl…please."

He saw a look of pain and pity cross Vic’s face before the gunman slapped his face saying,

"Don’t look at him, I want you to be looking right at me when I take you."

The man sat back both his hands going to Dutch’s thighs as he began to pry them apart. Dutch knew he was supposed to cooperate but he couldn’t the harder the man tried, the more bruises were etched into his flesh, the harder Dutch fought to keep his legs together. Finally the man lost patience his fist smashing into Dutch’s stomach the air whooshing out of his lungs at the blow. A second blow quickly following the first and Dutch was trying to curl in on himself, trying to drag oxygen into his badly winded body. The gunman, the rapist, seized his opportunity pushing Dutch’s legs apart, positioning himself between them. Dutch cried out in pain and distress when he felt the
man’s finger jab into him,

"Oh yeah," The man breathed, "nice and tight, just like I like it."

Dutch tried to pull away, tried to push his heels into the bed so he could scoot up the bed away from this monster, but the man held his hips in a punishing grip and the way the pillows under his hips canted his backside up and off the surface of the bed made it impossible for him to get any purchase to push with. The man was kneeling up pulling Dutch towards him, up partially onto his lap, Dutch was panicking reaching behind him, his hands scrabbling for something to grab onto to halt his inexorable slide towards his rape. All he could grab was the sheet of his bed which he bunched into his fists, the man began to lean over him, above his uncontrollable sobs he could hear the other man, the one by Vic, the one who would rape him next egging his friend on, laughing,

"Oh yeah man, see him fight…you going to fight me like that boy huh? Go on fuck him…come on fuck him so I can have my turn!"

Then he felt it, hard and seeming impossibly big, poking at his ass, terror flared in him, he brought his hands forward swinging wildly at the man over him. He felt his fist clip the man’s arm then he felt him let go of his hip and the man’s fist hit his cheek, rattling his teeth with it’s force.

"That’s right you fight you little shit it just makes it more fun for me now." He told Dutch.

Then his hand returned to Dutch’s hip and he paused for a moment and then lunged forward with all his weight behind him. Dutch screamed as the man’s penis ripped its way into his body, the pain excruciating, unlike anything he’d ever felt before. He felt his back rear up from the bed as the sensation of his flesh tearing, being ripped apart rushed through him. Dutch could feel his muscles clamping around the invader trying to expel it from his body. The man grunted with the effort, paused and then thrust himself the rest of the way into him. It felt to Dutch as if he was being torn in two, the burning agony consuming him from the inside out. The man began to move in him, every thrust a torment, Dutch cried out with every movement, squeezed his eyes shut, feeling himself being driven into the mattress below him. A stinging slap cut through his torture, he snapped his eyes open to see his rapist glaring down at him,

"Keep your fucking eyes open…look at me!"

Dutch’s mind was in a whirl, shutting itself down, he couldn’t think straight, his world comprising of nothing but the agony consuming him and the twisted face above him. The man stared into his open eyes, sweat from his forehead dripping down onto Dutch’s face. He changed position lying more fully on top of Dutch, but he planted his hands on either side of Dutch’s head. His arms locked at the elbows so that he could keep looking into Dutch’s face as he raped him. The change of position made his thrusts longer and deeper his penis rhythmically stabbing into Dutch’s body. As he looked into the face above him Dutch could see the man’s lips moving and as Dutch’s screams turned into pained moans he could hear what the man was saying,

"Fucking yes…oh fuck that’s good… so fucking tight."

Then the man began to grunt as he lowered himself down over Dutch’s body, his head buried in the curve between Dutch’s shoulder and neck. As he grunted out his pleasure, his cum being released deep into Dutch’s bleeding body he bit down on the soft skin of Dutch’s shoulder making him cry out again. Then he stilled, his heavy weight pressing Dutch down into the bed, suffocating
him. Then the weight was gone, the man pulling himself up and away from him. He could hear him laughing, slightly breathless as he whooped and said,

"Shit that was good… he was fucking tight. Nothing like a virgin."

Dutch could feel the warmth of blood and other fluids leaking from his broken body, coating his inner thighs, running down to his buttocks, soaking into the bed beneath him. He turned his back on those mocking self-congratulatory voices, slowly pulling his knees up to his chest, trying to make himself as small as possible, he lay on his side and felt his soul shatter into a million irretrievable pieces.

Chapter 6.

Dutch tried unsuccessfully to block everything out. He didn’t want to hear those ugly voices laughing at him, at his anguish, saying dirty, nasty things; he didn’t want to see those twisted, perverted men; he didn’t want to see Vic held at gunpoint unable to help him, his face probably filled with the disgust and contempt he must feel when he looked at him, but most of all he didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to feel the shame and humiliation that filled him, he didn’t want to feel the blood and God knows what else that was running down the insides of his thighs, and he definitely didn’t want to feel the pain, an agonizing, aching throb in his backside and lower abdomen. He was huddled on his side, curled up in a fetal position, his arms wrapped around his body as though if he didn’t hold himself in this enclosed position he’d fly apart, and if that happened it might be impossible for the pieces to be put back together again. His eyes were squeezed shut and he was trying to ignore the silent tears that leaked from them no matter how tightly he kept them closed, and he tried to ignore the trembling which had seized his entire body no matter how tightly he curled in on himself. He started, his heart fluttering and a whimper escaping from his mouth when a hand grabbed at his upper arm, and a sneering voice said, "Get over here your not finished yet lover…my turn now."

Dutch pulled against that grip, fear and panic beginning to surge through him, adrenaline coursing through him. With a wordless cry he kicked out, yanking his arm away from that poisonous touch he frantically moved across the bed trying to put as much distance between himself and his attacker as he could, trying to escape when there was no escape.

"Oh no you don’t get away that easy!" Shouted the man as he lunged across the bed grabbing Dutch and punching him on the lower back at the same time.

New pain flared where the man’s fist had impacted just above Dutch’s right kidney, it’s intensity momentarily incapacitating him. Several more blows to the same area left him gasping trying not to vomit from the agony consuming him. Having lost his ability to fight back, his body just trying to get through the hurt which had been inflicted upon it, Dutch felt himself being pulled back towards his second rape.

The second man had handed his weapon over to the first attacker, who now guarded Vic who was still kneeling on the floor by the bed the gun pressed against the back of his head, just under his right ear. Dutch saw his face pale and haunted looking as he was positioned by his new attacker on his stomach near the edge of the bed. The man who was positioning him was naked from the waist down, as his friend had been before, that friend who was now fully dressed again grinning at him from behind Vic, his head down close to Vic’s whispering in his ear. Dutch could catch some of the things being whispered, the rapist telling Vic what it had been like, how much he’d enjoyed himself, how it had felt to force his way inside of Dutch’s body; asking Vic if he’d enjoyed watching it, if it had turned him on, asking him if he wanted a turn next. Then the man had glanced up looking into Dutch’s eyes smiling and had laughingly said to his friend, "Come on man get on with your sloppy seconds I think the tough guy here might want a taste when you’re through."

"Shut up you sick prick. When this is over I’m going to find you and fucking kill you." Vic hissed his voice tight with fury.

"Keep your mouth shut and watch motherfucker, or I’ll forget that little deal we’ve got and just kill the pair of you when we’re done." The man threatened.

Dutch felt the his legs being forced apart as the second man knelt between them, he wanted to fight, to escape but he couldn’t move terror overwhelming him. His brain was screaming at him to get away but his body, his muscles wouldn’t obey, he had heard the phrase "frozen with fear" and now he knew how that felt. It was as if his mind and his body didn’t belong to each other anymore, neither cooperating with the other. He felt the man behind him reach under him, his arm wrapped around his waist, pulling him back, pulling his backside slightly up in the air. Then Dutch felt the weight of the other man as he draped himself over his back. This second entry was even more painful than the first, the torn and bruised tissues inside him flaring in pain at this second assault, the sick feeling of his own flesh ripping and tearing deep inside making Dutch feel dizzy. Dutch’s face was turned into the mattress and he screamed his distress deep into it. While the man raped him he could feel him racking his nails down his back, it felt as if he was being clawed by an animal. With each thrust the man grunted and dug his nails in, while Dutch, his voice finally screamed out, just whimpered and sobbed. It seemed like an eternity to Dutch before the rapist finally stilled for a moment and then emptied his filth deep inside of him with a sick cry of triumph. He felt the sweat soaked body above him rest on his back for a moment before it moved away, the air that moved over his skin chilling him to the bone. He felt he should move cover his shame somehow but he couldn’t, he had no energy left inside of him, all that was inside him now was dirty and corrupted.

Chapter 7.

At least it was over, Dutch could hear the two men laughing comparing notes on how it had been to rape him, he shut them out not wanting to listen to them describing that, describing him, he tried to pretend they were talking about a stranger. Of course in a way they were because he suddenly wasn’t sure who he was any more, before this night he had thought he was certain of who he was. He might not always have liked what he’d seen, wanting to be different, to be more confident, to get along with people more easily, but he’d known who he was, now he felt as though everything he knew about himself had been turned on it’s head. If anyone had asked him just a few short hours ago if he’d let two men have sex with him, rape him, he’d have been insulted that they’d asked the question. His denial would have been emphatic, but here he was lying on his bed with two different men’s semen running out of him after he’d just lain there and let them take him. Intellectually he knew he’d had no choice, that Vic’s life had been on the line, that that life was more important than his honour, his dignity, but it didn’t really help. He felt disgusted with himself, he felt like a coward, he felt dirty, he felt broken. The only thing he could console himself with was that one thought; at least it was over. Now the men would leave, after all they’d played their game and he’d played by their rules, and they’d told him and Vic that when they’d gotten what they’d wanted they’d leave. Well he’d given them what they’d wanted so now it was over and all that was left was for him to try and pull himself together, try to piece his life back together again.

Dutch had been so caught up in his own thoughts that when a hand touched his arm he’d nearly jumped out of his own skin. Turning panicked eyes towards the owner of that hand he found himself face to face with his first rapist, the man’s amused eyes staring into his, that smug grin still on his face. Dutch felt fear surge through him, God what if they’d lied, what if they were going to do that to him again? He tried to pull away, wincing as pain shot through him, "No, no…d…don’t touch me…leave me alone." He begged tears welling up in his eyes, "no more please…just leave me alone."

"Aw baby, don’t you want to play anymore huh…and I thought we’d had so much fun together." The man smirked, pressing himself down on Dutch. "I’m hurt you know…I thought we had something special…what with me being your first and all."

Dutch looked up at him and said, "Please don’t."

Even though he knew it would do him no good, because he was trapped. When he’d agreed to play by their rules he’d trapped himself, left himself with no escape and now he’d have to pay for that, he’d have to play their game by their rules until they decided it was over.

"Don’t be like that now," The man told him, "I’ve got something special for you, a surprise."

He moved back from Dutch his hand still grasping his arm he pulled him forward and off the bed. Dutch slid off onto the floor, trying to ignore the pain in his lower body that the movement caused, the man crouched down next to him, leaning into him, and Dutch could feel the man’s body heat on his chilled flesh and shivered. Dutch looked for Vic; he needed to know that he was still all right, that he was still safe. The second man was guarding him and he’d been moved, he was standing again, his hands still tied behind his back. He was standing against the wall where Dutch had been made to stand earlier, he wasn’t looking at Dutch, but Dutch frowned to see blood on his face and on the front of his tee shirt. It was hard to see from here but it looked as if Vic had been hit in the face, his nose bloodied, his lip cut open and swollen. Dutch wondered when that had happened and how he hadn’t realised, then he shuddered and knew that he’d probably been otherwise occupied at the time. The second gunman by Vic was talking to him, Dutch couldn’t hear what was being said but from the look on Vic’s face it couldn’t be good. Vic’s face was pale, his lips drawn into a tight, hard line his whole body taut, vibrant with tension. A warm breath caressed Dutch’s ear as the man by him leaned in close, his lips brushing against Dutch’s outer ear as he spoke so quietly Dutch had to strain over the sound of his own thudding heartbeat to hear what he was saying, "You see we’ve not finished the game yet, ‘cause I like to play fair and we’ve not done that. I’ve gotten to play, and my friend he’s gotten to play and you…well you’ve certainly gotten to play, but see the tough guy over there he’s not gotten to play and that just ain’t fair."

Dutch stared at Vic wondering where this was going, what was that sick mind going to come up with now? Were they going to make him watch while they attacked Vic? That thought made Dutch feel ill, Jesus was this nightmare ever going to end he thought. He was ashamed at the faltering he heard in his voice when he asked the man, "What do you mean…what are you going to do? God…God haven’t you done enough?"

"A person would think you didn’t have any fun tonight," The man taunted Dutch, "cause you know I had fun and I’m sure my friend enjoyed himself…now it’s time for tough guy there to have some fun. I was talking with him before you know, while you were entertaining my friend. I was telling him all about you, how great it felt fucking you, how good it was to feel you struggling under me and do you know what I think he got turned on. He looks like the kind of guy who likes to take what he wants…huh what do you think?"

"No!" Dutch’s voice, his denial of the twisted words he’d heard, sounded loud in the room and he caught a glimpse of Vic’s face as he glanced quickly in his direction. Dutch shuddered at the expression on Vic’s face; it was cold, stony, closed down.

"Oh yeah I’m afraid so, see you have to play one more time before the game’s finished. You’re going to go over to your friend there, you’re going to get on your knees and your going to suck his cock like a good boy." The man whispered into Dutch’s ear. He tried to turn his face away, squeezing his eyes shut trying to blot out the hated, sick words but the man grabbed his chin in a painfully tight grip, refusing to let Dutch turn away. "You’re going to do a good job to, you’re going to do such a good job you’ll make him cum in your mouth, and when he does you’re going to swallow every drop he gives you, and you’ll keep it down…no throwing up. If you don’t make him cum, if you don’t keep it down I’ll make you watch while I blow his fucking head off…do you understand me?"

"Not this…don’t do this…please don’t." Dutch sobbed.

The grip on his chin tightened even more, Dutch was sure he could actually feel the finger tip bruises that would be left there forming on his skin.

"Fucking shut up you whining bitch," The man hissed at him. "You’ll do what you’re fucking well told…now get over there and get on with it!"

Releasing Dutch’s chin the man grabbed onto his hair and with his other hand on his arm he dragged Dutch over to where Vic was standing, dumping him in a heap at Vic’s feet. When he didn’t move the man drew back his foot and kicked him in the ribs, "Get on with it, come on!"

Slowly, reluctantly Dutch pulled himself up onto his knees, his eyes clenched shut, sure that Vic must already hate him for what he’d done, what he’d become, God knows he hated himself, but this would be too much. Jesus if he forced Vic to do this Dutch was sure he’d kill him, after this was over Vic would put a bullet into him, and to be honest Dutch wasn’t sure if he’d try to stop him, if he’d blame him if he did. Knowing that he’d trapped himself into this situation, that he only had himself to blame, and that he couldn’t sink any lower Dutch took a deep breath and opened his eyes.

Chapter 15.

The surgical waiting room was quite a contrast when compared to the ER waiting room three floors below. The walls were painted in soothing pastel shades with comfortable chairs and even a coffee machine. The quiet group were the only ones in the room at the moment. The door snapped shut behind Jenny as she left them after explaining that a surgeon would be in to talk to them when Dutch’s operation was over. She had seemed eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere behind her.

Vic dropped into a chair with a tired sigh. He sat with his arms on his knees, his head bowed, staring at the floor. He didn’t want to face the other people in that room. The two Westwood detectives with their questioning, professional expressions, Aceveda his face saddened by the news of what had happened to Dutch, but also with a hint of suspicion in it when he looked at Vic. Vic knew that Aceveda was already convinced that the whole thing was his fault, convinced that Dutch had somehow been caught in the crossfire, an innocent victim of some form of retribution that had been aimed at Vic. Of course right now Vic didn’t give a shit what Aceveda thought or what those two dicks from Westwood thought either, there was only one person in that room that Vic felt he owed anything to. Claudette’s eyes hadn’t left him since the doctor’s words had stated so clinically the horror of what had happened to Dutch. He had felt her gaze on him all the time during that quiet, strained lift ride up to the third floor. He could feel it boring into the top of his bowed head now. However, he hadn’t been able to meet her gaze since he’d dropped his eyes and apologised to her for not protecting her partner. He felt her move to stand in front of him and he readied himself as best he could for what would follow, "What the hell happened Vic…that doctor, she was wrong right…I mean…I mean not Dutch, Vic tell me…not Dutch?" Her voice sounded different to Vic not like the self-assured, confident Claudette he was used to hearing.

"I’m sorry Claudette I wish…" Vic mumbled out a repeat of his previous apology.

"No, you look at me God damn it Vic, you look at me and tell me what happened. You explain to me how this could happen!" Claudette’s voice cracked a little at the last, emotion threatening to overwhelm her, and Vic winced in sympathy.

Knowing Claudette wanted to see his face, his eyes as he told her what had been done to Dutch, knowing that she needed to see them, he wearily raised his head and met her gaze. He felt a huge wave of sadness well up inside him at the confusion, fear and pain that he saw when he finally met her eyes. He felt an urge to explain to her, try to make her realise that if could have helped Dutch he would of, if he’d been able to stop those animals from touching him, from hurting him so badly then he would of.

"There wasn’t anything I could do Claudette. Christ don’t you think if I could of stopped them I would of. They…they were armed, they took us by surprise. They tied my hands behind my back and they wanted to play this game…this sick fucking game. Shit…bastards fucking sick evil bastards!" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush taking everyone by surprise, their tone anguished.

Claudette moved back away from Vic, taking a deep steadying breath.

"Alright we all need to calm down." Aceveda said trying to take charge of the situation. "We’re all shocked and upset but Detectives Gregory and Lehane need this statement Vic if they’re going to move forward in their investigation. Now we all want these perps to be caught as soon as possible so I suggest we all sit down and let’s try to get this statement finished as quickly as we can."

Vic nodded wearily knowing that this was unavoidable. That everything was going to have to be told, everything was going to have to be confessed. He needed to get this over with so that he would be free to check in with Shane. He would need to feel the burn of revenge after he had re-lived the events of the past night. After everyone sat down Vic was aware of all the eyes in the room being solely focused on him. He steeled himself for what was to come and cleared his throat as he began, "I was staying at Dutch’s house…um Detective Wagenbach’s house," He said flicking his gaze at Lehane who was writing his words down in his notebook.

Lehane nodded his understanding back at him and Vic continued, "Anyway the place I’m staying at has a roach problem so it’s getting fumigated and Dutch offered to let me stay at his place for a few days, because he’s got a spare room. Everything was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious and we just went to bed. About an hour or so later, around one thirty or so," Vic corrected himself trying to be as accurate as possible.

The police officer in him trying to stick with procedure, trying to find an anchor in the familiar routine of his job. Something that might distance himself from the events he was going to have to relay, "I was asleep when the light went on in the room and there was this guy standing there pointing a gun at me, a Baretta I think. He was dressed all in black, a black sweater, black jeans and a black ski mask covering his face. He was about five foot ten tall, about 180 lbs., he was Caucasian, sounded like a local too." Vic paused remembering the shock he’d felt when he’d awoken to be confronted by the armed intruder.

However, Vic didn’t want the emotion, he didn’t want to feel the emotional turmoil that that night’s events had set off within him. If he could just stick to the facts and nothing but the facts maybe he could sublimate the feelings and ignore them. So clearing his mind he pressed on, "He told me to get up and not to try anything else he’d kill me. I thought about my gun but it was in a drawer, out of my reach so I decided it would be best to go along with him for now. I hoped I might get a chance to do something later on. I thought…I thought they’d just come to rob the house…I didn’t know…Well anyway he pushed me down the landing to Dutch’s room and there was another guy already in there with a gun on Dutch, a Glock, definitely a Glock. Dutch was still in bed so I guess he’d been woken up just as I had. This second man was taller and bigger built, about six two and 190lbs. He was dressed all in black too, sweater, trousers and ski mask. Also Caucasian, but his voice was different…Southern…maybe Georgia…yeah I’d say Georgia. Looked to me like he was the boss too."

"Why do you think that?" Lehane asked, poised to write down Vic’s answer.

"Just a feeling you know…he seemed to be the one giving the orders plus…"

"Plus what?" Lehane wanted to know when Vic didn’t finish his sentence.

"Nothing…nothing." Vic told him.

Vic hadn’t wanted to finish what he’d been going to say. He hadn’t wanted to tell them that the big guy had seemed to be the leader of the two men because he’d gone first, he’d raped Dutch first. Trying to regain his equilibrium Vic continued, "Anyway Dutch must have thought the same as me…that this was a robbery because he did all the right things you know. He told them where his wallet and car keys were and where anything else they might want to take was. He kept calm, he did everything right, everything you’re supposed to do." Vic looked at Claudette when he said this, but quickly looked away when he saw the cold expression on her face. v Her shock giving way to fury, a fury she hadn’t yet decided if it should be directed at him. Continuing with his narrative Vic picked a spot on the far wall, a faded stain, and focused on that as he began to speak, "The guy by Dutch, the leader he says that they don’t want any of those things, that we’ll find out what they want soon. Dutch didn’t understand what he meant, neither did I and Dutch he looked over at me, and he was confused… I could see he was confused."

That was it, remembering the confused look on Dutch’s face when he’d looked at Vic, confusion which had turned into concern at how the events were going to unfold, was enough to scupper Vic plans to block out the emotion. He couldn’t help himself as he began to relay the events he’d experienced it was as if he was back there in that room, watching everything, powerless to help, powerless to change things.

Chapter 16.

Vic didn’t like feeling powerless; he liked, needed to be in control. The gun pressed into his side was an uncomfortable reminder that this was a situation where he didn’t have the slightest bit of control. He’d watched as Dutch had been made to stand facing the wall and tried to figure out what was going on, if he could get an idea of what these two wanted then maybe he could use that to his advantage. When he was told to put his hands behind his back Vic knew he was going to be tied up, was this his moment, should he make his move? A punch to his side momentarily doubled him over in pain and he saw Dutch try to turn his head to see what had happened. Vic felt a sharp spike of fear go through him when he saw the gunman by Dutch jab his gun into the side of his head telling him to keep facing the wall. He realised that it wasn’t just his life he had to consider, if an attempt to overpower the gunman by him went badly it could be Dutch who would pay with his life, and Vic knew he couldn’t face that so for the time being he would have to cooperate.

The mention of "the game" had Vic puzzled and worried, he wasn’t sure why but it was setting off every internal alarm he had. Vic had long ago learnt to trust his internal alarm system, an instinctive trouble sensor; it had saved his life a couple of times in the past. This wasn’t going to be good; there was something about these two that made him distinctly uncomfortable. He had seen them exchange wordless glances, knowing smirks that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Vic winced as the gunman who was tying his hands behind him pulled the cord tight and he felt it cut into the flesh of his wrists. He watched as Dutch was allowed to turn around and frowned at the realisation that while he’d been tied Dutch hadn’t. There was that bad feeling again, a bad feeling that was entirely focused on Dutch. It was going to be bad and he just knew that Dutch was going to get the brunt of it. Dutch was looking intently at him inspecting him for any injury, and he could see the genuine relief on his face when he found none. There was a moments silence and Vic wanted to get the gunman’s focus onto himself if he could get them talking, make them see that they should take what they want and leave, perhaps Dutch could be spared whatever it was they had in mind for him.

However, the gunman by Dutch just continued in that smug, mocking tone assuring Vic that they didn’t want money or videos. He felt his guts clench in apprehension at the laughter of the man next to him when he urged his friend to explain what was going to happen to them. He instinctively knew it was going to be awful but even Vic was unprepared for what he heard. His mind could process the fact that they were robbers, he could even handle the thought that they might be some kind of thrill killers, but rapists! The idea that this whole thing was motivated by sex and power games set his mind into a confused whirl. Then Vic felt anger surge up within him at the thought that he was going to be used as a pawn in their sick game. He was going to be used to gain Dutch’s cooperation in his own rape. No, he couldn’t just stand there and let this happen, he shouted, "Fuck you you prick!"

The gunman’s smug reply of, "No actually it’s fuck him."

While indicating a frozen Dutch had enraged Vic even further. He wanted to charge across the room at that smug bastard, even with his hands tied behind his back he wanted to do something. Suddenly the gun was removed from his side and shoved viciously under his chin pushing his head up at an uncomfortable angle. Vic knew he was trapped and getting himself killed in some useless gesture wasn’t going to help Dutch, all it would do was leave Dutch alone to face what ever was going to happen to him and maybe it would even get him killed too. If he bided his time maybe Vic would get a chance to act later, he would have to try and stay calm and watch for an opening.

When the gunman by Dutch ordered him to strip Dutch looked over at him and Vic can see the growing panic in his eyes as well as disbelief and indecision. Vic wanted to say something to him something reassuring, something to make this easier for him but he knew that there was nothing that could do that so he just kept quiet, his inability to do anything to help Dutch making him feel completely impotent and useless. Dutch’s eyes were wide with shock at the gunman’s words and the colour was rapidly draining from his face as the enormity of the situation dawned on him, and then Vic was flooded with relief. He was relieved that it was Dutch standing there exposed and alone and not him. Immediately the relief was followed by an almost crushing sense of guilt that he could be so selfish, but still that feeling of relief lurked in the background and refused to go away. When Dutch asked in a faltering voice for the gunman to remove the gun from Vic’s head afraid that it might go off accidentally Vic felt even worse. Here’s Dutch with this awful threat hanging over him and his first thought is for Vic’s safety and all Vic can think is thank, Christ it’s him and not me!

When the gunman by Dutch warns his friend to watch Vic because he doesn’t trust him not to try and be a hero Vic almost laughs himself at the ridiculousness of that thought. Being a hero is the last thing he feels like as he just stands there and does nothing while Dutch has to face the trauma of these events alone. Vic watches as Dutch reddens with embarrassment as he’s forced to undress. The gunman by Vic is sniggering at Dutch’s growing distress while the one nearest to him just continues to watch him with that self-satisfied smirk obviously enjoying every moment of Dutch’s discomfort. Vic pulls on the cord around his wrists, what he wouldn’t give to be able to free his hands and get hold of these two sadists.

Vic cracks when the gunman by Dutch tells him to put his hands on his head so he can get a proper look at him. Surely this can’t be real, it’s just some form of humiliation, torture surely they aren’t going to go through with it if he offers them more money maybe they’ll take it and go, leave poor Dutch alone. Vic feels the desperation within him growing when his offer of more money is brushed off and the gunman returns his attention to Dutch. He sees Dutch flinch, hears him whimper softly when the man behind him touches him. The intense flare of anger that flashes through him surprises Vic, he’d love to break that guy’s fingers one by one for touching Dutch like that. He hates the humiliation and growing fear he can see in Dutch’s face while he blushes in shame and his downcast eyes stare at the floor.

Vic doesn’t think he can get anymore enraged but he manages to when the gunman by Dutch tells him that if he doesn’t cooperate that Vic’s death will be on his conscience. The manipulation being used infuriates him, but he can see that it’s having the desired affect and that Dutch is on the verge of giving in, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Vic can’t stop himself from calling the gunman a bastard and wishes that Dutch would look at him, that he’d look into his eyes and see that Vic would never blame him for his death. However, Dutch is steadfastly avoiding looking at him as he obeys the gunman and takes the animal’s dick out of his trousers. Vic can see Dutch is trembling and he feels his heart clench when the gunman tells him to get onto his knees, he can’t try and deny it anymore this abomination is real and nothing is going to stop it. When Dutch lifts his face up to look at the man standing in front of him and asks him not to make him do this Vic can see the unshed tears in his eyes. Vic knows that the vulnerability that is shining out of Dutch’s eyes at that moment is only going to spur on the type of monster that these two obviously are. As Dutch drops to his knees Vic can hear the breathing of the man next to him speed up and feels a wave of disgust when, from the corner of his eye, he sees him rubbing at his crotch with his free hand.

Vic feels the soft whimper that comes from Dutch when the gunman asks him if he’s ever sucked a guy’s dick cut through him. When the gunman by him decides to spur on Dutch’s cooperation by hitting Vic in the stomach Vic tries to keep the sound from the blow from escaping his mouth knowing it will be used to coerce Dutch into doing what he desperately doesn’t want to. Vic knows he’s failed when he sees Dutch squeezing his eyes shut and leaning forward taking the gunman into his mouth. As the tears spill out of Dutch’s closed eyes and run down his face and he sobs and chokes around the gunman’s flesh invading his mouth Vic can’t look any longer and he closes his eyes and turns away. At least he can do that for Dutch look away and refuse to witness his abuse. However, that isn’t allowed and he’s punched again and told, "Open your eyes and watch, he’s doing this for you."

Then the gunman leans in really close and in a whisper that only Vic can hear he adds, "If you don’t watch everything now you can watch me shove my gun in his mouth and pull the trigger after we’ve finished using him, your choice."

So feeling vomit rise in his throat Vic complied and swallowed back the sick feeling. He resolved to stay focused and strong he had to be there for Dutch when this ordeal was over, he had to stay alert in case an opportunity to turn the tables on these pigs presented itself. His fury was burning every image of this night into his brain, he knew that they would provide ample fuel for his revenge later on. So Vic forced himself to watch as the first gunman raped Dutch’s mouth, all the time knowing that as bad as this was it was only going to get worse.

The fact that when the gunman finally pulled out of his mouth and pulled him up to his feet that Dutch glanced at him and then quickly looked away made a huge wave of sadness wash over him. Vic was sure that Dutch must blame him for not helping him, for letting the gunman force himself into his mouth and then just standing there watching, doing nothing. Vic was sure that after this Dutch would hate him, not only was he the reason that Dutch didn’t even have the dignity of trying to fight back, but Vic himself was doing nothing to help him.

The gunman by Vic pulled and prodded him over by the bed and forced him to his knees. Again a threat to Vic was used to make Dutch comply although the point was punctuated by a hard punch to Dutch’s face which split open his lip and stunned him for a moment. The growing fear in the room is almost a tangible thing when Dutch reluctantly gets onto the bed still resolutely keeping his eyes averted from Vic, and who can blame him. Sure that Dutch must hate him by now Vic realises he pretty much hates himself by now to. Here he is the tough macho cop Vic Mackey kneeling here doing nothing while a fellow officer; an innocent is about to be violated in the worst way imaginable.

His thought that Dutch is an innocent startles Vic for a moment then he realises that there is a certain naivete about Dutch, he still believes that the good guys will win if only they follow the rules and work hard enough. Dutch held onto this belief, a belief that Vic and his team had let slip away in exchange for quick results. Vic was surprised to discover that he kinda envied Dutch his faith in the right of the law, and he didn’t want to see him lose part of himself. The thought that Dutch was going to be changed forever by the events that were going to take place here tonight saddened Vic more than he’d thought possible.

Chapter 17.

Vic paused taking a deep breath and opened his eyes relieved that instead of Dutch’s bedroom he instead saw the walls of the surgical waiting room. He looked around and found himself looking into the four horrified faces of his listeners.

"Jesus," Gregory said, "these bastards are sick."

"Yeah well you won’t get no argument from me on that score…but there’s more…there’s worse." Vic reluctantly told them.

"It’ll be better to get it all over with now Vic." Aceveda told him, and Vic was surprised to see that some of the earlier suspicion had left his face to be replaced with sympathy instead.

However, when he glanced hopefully at Claudette he felt crestfallen to see that none of the antagonism that had seemed to be directed at him earlier had left her expression. Of course he couldn’t blame her he hadn’t exactly covered himself in glory during the telling of that nights events. What was worse was that he knew that as his narrative continued that his actions or inaction would only make her despise him even more. Taking a steadying breath he muttered, "Let’s get this over with then."

He closed his eyes and was instantly transported back to that damn room, and that maelstrom of negative emotions that rose up and threaten to swallow him.

Dutch’s first rape began in a sick parody of lovemaking as the gunman stroked his hand lightly over Dutch’s body in an almost caress. All the while Dutch lay rigidly on his back every line of his body virtually vibrating with tension. Vic felt a surge of disgust when the man leant down and kissed Dutch on the mouth. That such an intimate, loving act should be so perverted into something dirty and invasive saddened him. While the gunman kissed him and ran his hand down over his body Vic could hear small sounds of distress which were coming from deep in Dutch’s throat, and he could see his hands clutching the bedsheet below him so hard that his knuckles were white and bloodless. When the gunman pulled back from the kiss Vic was revolted to see blood on his lips. When Dutch turned to look at him Vic could see a thin trickle of blood that ran down his chin where the skin on his lower lip was not only swollen and broken from the earlier punch, but also from a bite that that pig had just inflicted.

Tearing his gaze away from Dutch’s mouth Vic could see the intensity of desperation in Dutch’s face as he said,

"Vic please help me…do something…help me…p...pl…please."

Vic felt his heart clench with sorrow. The cold muzzle of the gun pressed against the back of his head preventing him from doing anything except watch. At that moment he knew for sure that not only would Dutch never be the same after this night but neither would he.

Vic felt himself flinch when the gunman by Dutch slapped him and ordered him to look at him and not Vic. He could see that Dutch’s resolve not to fight back for his sake was beginning to crumble, and Vic couldn’t blame him no matter what it might personally cost him. The vicious blows to Dutch’s abdomen and the brutal way the gunman pushed his legs apart had Vic clenching his hands so hard he could feel his nails biting into his palms. Vic caught onto the pain and used it to ground himself. The fury within him was threatening to overwhelm him, and he knew that this whole twisted situation could dissolve into a bloodbath if he let his emotions take over and he made a wrong move. Although Vic wished that he could save Dutch, spare him from this hideous ordeal he realised that more than anything he just wanted to ensure that Dutch lived through the next few hours. Anything else would have to be dealt with when this nightmare was over.

When Dutch cried out Vic could see that the gunman had stabbed his finger into him a precursor of what was to come. Dutch’s panic escalated and he desperately tried to pull himself away from the man looming over him. Dutch was sobbing brokenly in fear while the gunman guarding Vic was getting more and more excited, egging his friend on, eager for his turn. The punch to his face after his mistimed swing at his attacker left Dutch stunned and Vic could almost feel himself reeling from that blow. Suddenly it happened and the scream from Dutch as the man holding him down lunged into him, violating him cut through Vic and he felt tears well up in his eyes. He impatiently blinked them away remembering his vow to remain strong for Dutch’s sake. He bit down on the inside of his cheek the pain and coppery taste of blood in his mouth grounding him.

Vic’s eyes stare transfixed at the brutal scene in front of him. Dutch’s cries of agony lancing through him piercing his heart. The accompanying groans of pleasure from Dutch’s rapist and the gunman behind Vic filling Vic with revulsion. It seemed to be going on forever the rapist lowering himself over Dutch his face twisted, his eyes burning with desire as he began a sick chant, "Fucking yes…oh fuck that’s good…so fucking tight."

Dutch’s screams faded to agony filled moans every time that animal pushed himself into him. Finally after what seemed like an eternity the rapist grunts and shudders against Dutch as he cums, while Dutch once more cries out in distress and pain.

When the man gets off Dutch laughing and being congratulated by his friend Vic ignores them, blotting them out and concentrating completely on Dutch. He watches as Dutch curls into a fetal position, his back to them, his backside coated in blood and semen which is still running out of him and down his thighs. Vic is afraid by the amount of blood he sees and the overwhelming sense that something very deep and fundamental inside Dutch has been irreparably damaged.

Chapter 18.

Vic was so completely focused on Dutch that he was taken by surprise when the second gunman moved into his field of vision, getting on top of the bed and grabbing Dutch. Instinctively Vic made a move towards the bed trying to rise up from his knees, but was prevented from doing so by the first gunman, who was by him, placing a firm hand onto his shoulder. He pressed down forcing Vic to stay kneeling and then he could feel the cold metal of the barrel of the man’s gun being pressed against his cheek.

"Ah, ah, ah that’s enough of that…don’t want to disturb the lovebirds now do we?" He laughed.

"You’re sick…" Vic replied, his tone cold.

"Oh you don’t know what you’re missing." The gunman said.

He trailed the gun down Vic’s cheek and moved it back until he could feel the small, perfect circle of the barrel pressing into the soft flesh under his right ear.

"A guy like you, don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it huh…just taking what you want." The gunman’s head was next to Vic’s, and he could feel the warmth of his breath as it moved by his ear as he spoke.

"Shut up." Vic muttered to that poisonous voice through gritted teeth.

"It was great you know…holding him down, making him submit. Forcing my way inside him when everything about him was trying to keep me out. I was stronger though and I was the first…no one else had ever touched him like that. Do you know what it’s like…it’s so tight it’s almost painful you know, but you can feel his body give in, you can feel your flesh tearing into him. Then you feel the blood…hot and slick making it easier, smoothing the way. His own body betraying him, making it easier for you to push yourself all the way inside. Looking into his face while I was doing him, looking into his eyes…all that pain and fear, watching him cry. Jesus just makes you harder. I knew you were watching, watching everytime I forced my way into him…making him scream. You liked it didn’t you, I can tell? Did it turn you on…make you hard? Would you like a go after my friend finishes with him…we can hold him down for you if you’d like."

Vic felt sick, God how warped were these two.

"Come on man get on with your sloppy seconds I think the tough guy here might want a taste when you’re through"

Vic looked up and could see Dutch’s pale, tear-streaked face, his eyes pain-filled and haunted, looking at the gunman behind him.

"Shut up you sick prick. When this is over I’m going to find you and fucking kill you." Vic vowed the fury he felt evident in every syllable.

The gunman’s grip on his shoulder tightened, and he pressed the gun harder into Vic’s skin as he hissed, "Keep your mouth shut and watch motherfucker, or I’ll forget that little deal we’ve got and just kill the pair of you when we’re done."

The sound of Dutch crying out in pain jolted through Vic, and he felt something cold and deadly settle deep inside himself as the second gunman began thrusting, and grunting, and clawing at Dutch while his screams were muffled by the bed underneath him. When Dutch’s cries of terror, pain and distress became soft whimpers and sobs the man by Vic couldn’t resist leaning into him again to gloat, "If you want a turn here’s a little tip for you. Be as rough as you can be…the more brutal you are the more pain you’ll cause him. The more it hurts the more he’ll clench up trying to stop you and then the tighter he’ll be and the better a fuck he’ll be for you."

Vic saw red, his temper hot and all consuming and this was too much. He forgot about the gun and jerked his head back hoping to hit the gunman in the face, wanting to inflict as much damage as he could. Unfortunately, the man had been expecting it and dodged back and around using the butt of the gun to smack Vic in the face. Pain flashed through him and the force of the blow knocked him down to the floor. Blood was running hot from his nose, down over his chin and onto his tee shirt.

"Try that again and I won’t kill you…I’ll kill him, understand?" The gunman threatened.

When Vic didn’t respond he pointed the gun towards the bed where a shout of, "Jesus, yes!"

Signaled the completion of Dutch’s second rape.

"I said understand!" The first gunman reiterated.

"Yes, yes I understand." Vic was forced to conceded.

"Good now get up and get over by the wall. I’ve just had an idea." The man told him grinning.

Vic stopped unable to continue knowing that as bad as his narrative had been so far at least all he was guilty of was failing to act, now it would be so much worse, so much more unforgivable. He was no longer a passive participant in the events that took place in that room, but he was about to become an active participant in them instead.

God he couldn’t forgive himself for what he’d done to Dutch how would Claudette feel when she heard what had happened, Christ she’d probably want to kill him. It wouldn’t only be Claudette either Aceveda would know, and although he didn’t exactly have a good opinion of Vic already at least he didn’t view him as a pervert, a rapist. It was a difficult thought but that was exactly what Vic felt like, it was what those two sicko’s had made him into. There was no escaping it though he couldn’t cover it up, even if for some reason Dutch didn’t tell them when he woke up the physical evidence was indisputable. Looking over at the others he braced himself for the reactions his confession was going to elicit from them.

"Do you think you can carry on Detective Mackey?" Lehane asked.

Vic knew that Lehane would be eager to get the statement finished and start the investigation moving forward.

"There’s something you have to know…something…something difficult." Vic stumbled over the words wishing with every fibre of his body that he didn’t have to tell anyone this, wishing it had never happened.

"Oh you don’t think listening to all this hasn’t been difficult enough!" Claudette demanded. "Jesus Vic did you do anything to help him…I mean God you just let those two animals do what ever they wanted to Dutch and you did nothing!"

Vic could see the anger, confusion and despair in her face as she lashed out at him, the nearest and most convenient target for her to vent her frustrations onto. He didn’t blame her and sat still letting her fury wash over him as he gazed at the floor. He was surprised when it was Aceveda who came to his defense.

"Claudette… Detective Wyms!" He barked sharply. "Don’t say something you’re going to regret later. Let’s allow Vic to finish his statement."

Claudette scowled at them both crossing her arms and turning partially away from them.

Taking a breath Vic plunged on before his courage deserted him, "When the lab analyses the rape kit the doctors took in the ER they’re going to find the semen samples from the two men. When they look at the mouth swab they’re…um…they’re going to find DNA from a third man."

"Three, but I thought you said there were two attackers." Gregory interrupted sounding confused.

Wishing himself anywhere but here, wishing he had his hands around the throats of those two bastards right now Vic swallowed and said sadly,

"There was two…the third sample will be mine."

Chapter 19.

The silence that this statement produced seemed to scream in Vic’s ears. He felt his hands clench into fists as he waited for the reaction his words would elicit. He expected shouting what he got was Aceveda’s voice, almost so quiet he had to strain to hear it above the thudding of his own heartbeat, "What do you mean? You don’t mean…" Aceveda couldn’t finish his question as he realised that yes that was exactly what Vic meant.

Then the explosion came and from the direction that Vic had anticipated, "You…you animal. God you’re no better than they are…how could you do that to him…how could you!"

Looking up he could see Claudette looming over him. Her right hand seemed to twitch and Vic wasn’t sure if she wanted to smack him or reach for her gun and finish him off completely. Although he knew he deserved her anger, her loathing, he also felt compelled to defend himself, "Do you think I wanted to? That I was getting off on what they were doing to him… Jesus Claudette you don’t know…you weren’t there. I had no choice…they gave me no choice. If I didn’t do what they wanted they were going to rape him again and kill him. Is that what you’d prefer huh? Would you rather I was sitting here telling you I had the chance to save him but couldn’t bring myself to do it so I just let them murder him?"

He could see a brief flash of uncertainty cross her face as he spoke, but it was only there for an instant before it was replaced by ice-cold anger.

"Surely there must have been something you could of done…something other than that?" She said, her voice leached of emotion.

Again Aceveda came to his defense, stepping up to Claudette he laid a gentle hand on her arm leading her away from Vic,

"Why don’t we let him finish Claudette, then we can figure out how we’re going to handle all this ok?"

Impatiently brushing off his touch and turning back to glare at Vic she muttered,

"Fine…let’s listen to him talk his way out of this."

Aceveda turned from Claudette with a sigh. This whole situation was highly charged, highly emotional and he needed to try and keep a lid on things, try to keep it under control. The last thing he needed was for two of his detectives to be at each other’s throats at a time like this. Gesturing to Vic he said, "Carry on Vic."

Nodding Vic cleared his throat and continued with the last part of his statement.

*

Vic stumbled up from the floor by the bed as the first gunman pulled him up by his arm. Vic looked into his face, looked at his smirking face, and felt hatred well up within him white-hot and all consuming. In a deadly tone he leant towards the man and said, "I’m going to kill you slowly." Vic meant every word.

For the first time that night the smirk on the gunman’s face faltered as he saw the cold expression on Vic’s face. With a snarl he backhanded Vic, and Vic could feel the skin on his lip split from the force of the blow. Vic’s head had been dashed to one side by the strength of the blow but he slowly and calmly turned back to face his attacker, licking the blood from his lower lip. Again he was sure he could detect a trace of uncertainty and fear in the gunman’s eyes when he saw the coldness in Vic. With a push he shoved Vic towards the wall and said, "Get over there I said…face the wall and don’t move!"

As Vic turned away to move over to the spot indicated he glanced at Dutch. Concern spiked through him as he saw his curled form lying still and silent on the bed, his back covered in bruises and scratch marks. Then he felt that poisonous touch on him again, "Over there now…or you know what happens to your friend."

Reluctantly Vic obeyed and with his back to the room he could hear the two men laughing, "Fuck man that was intense. Pity we don’t have more time, I wouldn’t mind another turn at that ass!"

"He’s sweet no doubt about it, but come here I’ve got an idea."

Their voices dropped to whispers and strain as he could Vic couldn’t make out what was being said, what was being planned. However, he felt ice settle in the pit of his stomach when he heard the second gunman suddenly laugh again saying,

"Oh yeah, that I’ve gotta see!"

Vic stiffened when he sensed someone behind him and felt the gun once again pressed into his side. He recognised the voice of the second gunman as he told him,

"Turn around nice and slow we’re gonna have a little chat."

When he’d turned around Vic had to repress his revulsion when the man pressed up against him and began speaking to him in a low voice, his mouth right next to Vic’s ear, "My buddy and me think we’ve been unfair to you, keeping that sweet thing all to ourselves. Besides I hear you got all hot and hard watching us fuck him…want some yourself huh? So here’s what we’re gonna do for you. Our little fuck toy over there is gonna come over here and give you a blow job."

Vic felt his stomach turn at the man’s words, "Oh Jesus no." He whispered.

"Oh yeah. See it’s like this if you don’t fuck his mouth and cum down his throat you can watch while me and my buddy take turns fucking his ass again. Then you can watch me kill him. Blow his face off…hmm…splatter his brains all over the wall…how’s that. Up to you…cause you know I wouldn’t mind getting another fuck outta him so either’s good for me."

Vic’s blood turned to ice in his veins at these words. He kept hoping that that this night would get no worse, but he kept finding that he was wrong and that it could. He heard Dutch’s voice, "No!"

Glancing quickly in his direction Vic could see the anguish on his face, as well as hear it in his voice, and he knew that Dutch had been told what perversion was going to be forced on him next. Forced on him by someone he was supposed to trust. The animal by Dutch was still whispering in his ear, and Vic saw Dutch squeeze his eyes shut and try to turn away. Vic found himself copying Dutch’s actions as he too closed his eyes and turned away.

Suddenly he heard a noise close by him and the next thing he knew was Dutch being dumped on the floor at his feet. Vic looked down to see Dutch hunched over on the floor, his head down. There were scratches and bruises all over him, bruises in the shape of fingers and Vic’s stomach clenched when he saw several bite marks too. His backside and thighs were covered in dried and fresh blood. The tangy scent of blood and semen reached Vic’s nostrils and made him want to retch. The first man drew back his foot then and kicked Dutch in the ribs, "Get on with it, come on!" He said impatiently.

Vic flinched at the blow and as he watched Dutch slowly and painfully pulled himself to his knees. His eyes were clenched shut and his face pale, sad and defeated. At that moment Vic felt that what he was about to force on Dutch would strip away the last vestige of the Dutch he’d known just a few short hours ago. This realisation made Vic incredibly sad. He felt sad that he hadn’t bothered to get to know that Dutch better, and now it would be too late to do so. Looking away Vic tried to prepare himself for what was about to happen, what he was about to do.

The sound of another kick was followed by a soft grunt of pain and then that hated voice demanding, "Come on we’re waiting."

Vic held his breath as he felt a soft, trembling touch on the outside of his shorts, and then the cool touch of Dutch’s fingers on his penis. He couldn’t help himself and he jumped at the sensation of that touch, and he tried to move back. However, the wall behind him meant no escape. Vic’s whole body, every nerve ending, every sense seemed to narrow down to that cool, gentle touch. Vic could feel his body begin to tremble with pent up tension as Dutch’s long fingers wrapped around his penis and pulled it slowly free from his underwear. Vic closed his eyes and tried to calm himself down. He could hear the rush of his blood loud in his ears, his heart thudding in his chest. Then Dutch’s voice so melancholy and lost, "Please don’t make me do this…please haven’t you done enough…just…not this."

There was a hissed reply from the gunman that Vic didn’t hear and then suddenly warm, moist breath against his penis. Then Vic felt himself enveloped by Dutch’s unwilling mouth. Vic couldn’t stop the sharp intake of breath at the sensation. He could feel Dutch begin to suck on him and he knew he wouldn’t be able to control his reactions for long. He knew in that second that he would do exactly what the gunmen wanted him to do because this felt too good. His guilt was overwhelming, how could he get even a glimmer of enjoyment from this. He tried to squirm away before he lost control, and Dutch would know for sure that he was no better than those animals that had already hurt him so badly. That’s not allowed though, and a half-hearted jab in his side stills him and the second gunman laughs and tells him, "Keep still man…just stand still and enjoy."

It is the words from the other man that follow that frighten Vic though, "Shit what’s wrong with you tough guy can’t you get it up or something…we haven’t got all fucking night get on with it…or didn’t my friend explain things to you huh?"

At that moment Vic knows for sure that he can’t fight, he can’t save Dutch or himself. If he doesn’t commit this atrocity against Dutch he’ll have to watch as Dutch is raped again and then murdered, and he couldn’t bare that. So he forces himself to relax as best he can.

Vic could feel Dutch pause for a moment at the man’s words, and then he had to suppress a groan as he felt Dutch’s tongue move hesitantly against the underside of his penis. As it rubbed against the sensitive flesh Vic couldn’t suppress the second groan that fell from his lips, and he could feel his penis begin to swell in Dutch’s mouth. Dutch began to move his mouth over Vic’s penis, sucking it and tonguing it to erection. Vic could hear the gunmen laughing and commenting but he tried to blot them out, blot everything out except the incredible sensations Dutch was creating with his mouth. Vic could feel his hips moving, wanting to thrust into that warm mouth and he had to hold himself back, trying to keep control, trying to stop himself from moaning in guilty pleasure. His hands itched to be able to reach down so he could run his fingers through the soft hair he could feel brushing against his thighs as Dutch’s head moved backwards and forwards.

Vic could feel his excitement building as that warm, wet mouth moved faster over his throbbing erection. Dutch’s tongue was flicking over the head of his penis, dipping into the slit there, it seemed to Vic as if he was tasting him. Vic was having trouble holding back his thrusts, his breathing becoming faster and more frantic. Suddenly a voice in his ear, "Open your eyes…do it! That’s right now look down…look down and watch him suck you off."

He couldn’t stop himself from obeying and looked down at the figure kneeling in front of him. He had formed a vague plan to try and pretend that this was really Corinne and not Dutch, he’d thought he’d be able to do it and that it would make this some how easier. However, that plan hadn’t worked so far and it certainly didn’t work now. There was no denying that the dark haired head between his thighs was Dutch and with that realisation Vic felt his orgasm slam through him. He could feel his cum flooding into Dutch’s mouth, and the sensation of Dutch’s throat moving as he swallowed it just made it even more intense.

Suddenly the warmth is gone from his flesh and he can hear Dutch gasping and urging, desperately trying not to be sick. The grinning face of the first gunman is in front of him as he leans in to him and quietly says in a voice only Vic can hear, "See he’s got a talented mouth…how’s it feel to be a rapist?"

Vic could feel his entire life spinning away from him at those words. As he looked down at Dutch still fighting to keep his cum down Vic felt disgusted with himself. He couldn’t prevent the feeling of despair that welled up inside him. For the first time during this nightmare he couldn’t fight back the tears that welled up in his eyes. As he closed his eyes he could feel himself begin to shake when the first gunman said loudly, "Congratulations, now you’re one of us!"

Unable to say much more Vic merely manages to hastily explain that that is when the first gunman began to kick Dutch, and in his fear that he was dying Vic had moved forward to try and stop it. It was then he’d been knocked unconscious and that the rest they knew.

*

When he’d finished he braced himself and looked up at the others. They just stared back at him shock with horror on their faces. It was then that Vic realised his face was wet and he got an overwhelming feeling of claustrophobia. He needed out, he needed to escape from that room, from those stares. Lurching to his feet he mumbled, "Excuse me."

He stumbled out into the corridor ignoring Aceveda’s voice as it called out to him and he stumbled into the nearest men’s room. He paused for a second before he rushed to a cubicle and was sick.

Chapter 20.

Since he’d already thrown up at Dutch’s house earlier on Vic didn’t have much left in his stomach. The dry retching this left him with soon made his stomach muscles ache, and an uncomfortable throbbing begin in his head. It seemed that the painkiller the ER doctor had given him was starting to wear off. When his body finally stopped trying to turn itself inside out he closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool side of the cubicle. He could hear raised voices outside in the corridor and knew that it was Claudette and Aceveda. He thought grimly that Claudette probably wanted to rip him a new one and who could blame her. He had sat in that pastel room and told her he had orally raped her partner, her friend. If he had been in her position he would want to strike out too. Abruptly the voices ceased and he breathed a sigh of relief. Although Vic knew a confrontation with Claudette would come he would really rather it not be now. With a groan he pulled himself upright and had to rest against the wall for a moment while he waited for his head to stop spinning. He half stumbled over to the sinks and turned on the cold water tap in one and cupping his hand under the frigid stream he scooped up a handful and washed it over his face. He breathed in sharply as the cold liquid covered his skin, but it felt refreshing and he repeated the process twice more. That sense of overwhelming exhaustion was still lurking in the background, but Vic just needed to keep going for a few hours more. He needed to contact Shane to check in with him and see if he’d heard anything from his friend at Westwood about how the investigation was going, the forensic team should be getting some preliminary results by now. This was an attack on a cop; one of their own, it would be a top priority he knew. He also wanted to know if the Strike Team had managed to turn up anything on the streets. Sick bastards like this sometimes liked to brag about what they’d done and if they had breathed a word about it Vic wanted to know. However, he didn’t feel he could do any of this yet, he had something much more important to occupy him. First he needed to know how Dutch was; he needed to know that he was still alive, that he’d recover, physically at least. Reluctantly Vic looked up at himself in the mirror over the sink. After what he’d done to Dutch Vic hadn’t been sure if he’d be able to face himself in the mirror again. He remembered that time in the car thief’s bathroom when him and the team had just cleaned up their stolen drugs and wiped away the traces of it from the overdosed guy at the kitchen table. Vic himself was in the bathroom after having flushed a kilo of coke down the toilet seconds before Aceveda had shown up. As he gazed at his blood-shot eyes Vic could remember catching himself in the mirror that night. He hadn’t liked what he’d seen staring back at him then, what he’d become and he didn’t like it now.

He was startled out of his self-recrimination by the sound of the bathroom door opening. He didn’t turn around instead he switched the tap back on and began to wash his hands. There was silence as whoever had entered the bathroom merely stood by the door watching him and saying nothing. Vic ignored them and continued to wash his hands, he was pretty sure he knew who it was anyway. His guess was proved correct when the sound of a throat being cleared was followed by the still shocked voice of Captain David Aceveda, "Lehane and Gregory are going to wait here until the surgeon comes and talks to us."

"What they want to see if this is going to turn out to be a murder investigation instead of just a rape and assault?" Vic replied bitterly.

"Probably…just as you would if you were them…or just as Dutch would if it was his case. You can’t resent them for doing their job Vic; we all have to work together on this. That means we have to pull together, not go off doing our own thing, looking for our own brand of justice." Aceveda told him.

Vic turned, leaning back against the cool porcelain of the sink behind him, and regarded Aceveda keeping his expression neutral at the Captain’s words.

"You implying something?" He asked.

Aceveda sighed, he’d just butted heads with Claudette in the corridor, stopping her from following Vic and making matters worse by taking her frustration and anger out on him. In the end a nurse had come up to them and told them in no uncertain terms that if they didn’t stop it they would by escorted from the hospital and not allowed back. Now he had to try and reason with Vic Mackey, not something he’d ever had much success with in the past.

"Come on Vic, don’t think that I don’t know that the fact you’re too personally involved in this case and so can’t investigate it is going to stop you from trying. If I was in your place I would want in too, but you have to let Lehane and Gregory do their jobs. If you try to do things on your own and you get carried away, make a mistake in procedure then you know as well as I do what could happen. I don’t want to have to be the one to explain to Dutch that the men who did this to him walked because you got sloppy and broke the rules. Besides it’s not only for Dutch’s sake, you’re a victim here as well Vic, they hurt you too."

Vic snorted in derision at these words, and Aceveda had to resist the urge to flinch backwards, away from the bitter self-hatred that he could see shining out of Vic’s eyes. Contacting the department shrink had been on his list of things to do after they knew how Dutch was, but now David realised that it would be for Vic as well as Dutch. He was only now beginning to realise the full extent of the damage that this attack had done to these two men.

"Oh yeah, I really suffered! Christ didn’t you hear what I said just now? They did all those things to Dutch not to me. No, I just completely betrayed him…he asked me to help him and what did I end up doing… Fuck I came…what kind of a person does that make me?" Vic turned away from Aceveda regretting saying so much.

Taking a step towards Vic Aceveda tried to make Vic see that it wasn’t his fault. Although Vic had said that all those awful things had been done to Dutch and not to him, David wasn’t so sure. Physically Dutch had been the one to suffer, but David could see that part of the gunmen’s game had been to make Vic suffer vicariously. The final part of their game had been the most evil in his opinion, to make Vic feel like he was one of them, they’d obviously gone out of their way to inflict as much psychological damage, as well as physical damage.

"You couldn’t help that…it’s…it’s a physiological response. It doesn’t make you a rapist Vic." He said softly.

Vic seemed to fold in on himself, lowering his head to look at the floor. Aceveda had to strain to hear his words,

"Well why don’t we ask Dutch when he wakes up what he thinks huh."

"Dutch isn’t going to blame you Vic." Aceveda tried to reassure him.

Raising his head again to look at Aceveda Vic asked, "Oh and why shouldn’t he… I did it…and I must of enjoyed it right, after all it was my cum he had to try and not puke up!"

"Do you blame him." Aceveda asked.

Puzzled Vic frowned, shaking his head he said, "I don’t understand…blame him for what?"

"For letting those men have sex with him…for not being able to stop them. I mean what do you think…maybe he enjoyed it huh?"

Vic took a step towards Aceveda his hands clenching into fists,

"Of course I don’t blame him…Jesus he did what he did to save my life. He didn’t enjoy it and it wasn’t sex it was rape!"

"Exactly Vic…and what they did to you that was a form of rape too. They forced you to take part in a sex act against your will. If you hadn’t done what you’d done they would have hurt Dutch even more and killed him…just like Dutch, you had no choice."

Vic didn’t look convinced, but at least he didn’t look like he wanted to rip David’s head off anymore. He partially turned away, "You have any luck getting Claudette to buy that?" He asked.

"Not yet, but she’ll come around Vic. She’s just hurt and confused and mad as hell. She wants to hit out at someone for this; to blame someone for what’s happened to Dutch and you’re here. She’ll see that none of this was your fault and what you did, well you did it to save Dutch not to hurt him."

"Right." Vic said, sounding unconvinced.

"Are you coming back to the waiting room? Hopefully the doctor will be along soon to talk to us."

"Yeah…I just need a couple more minutes ok." Vic told him.

Nodding his understanding Aceveda turned to leave, but he paused and turned back, his hand resting on the door handle.

"Just remember what I said Vic. Keep out of this investigation…we need it to be by the book so that when we get these animals they get what they deserve and go away for a long time. I know how you feel you know…I’d like five minutes alone in a room with them too."

Vic looked at the Captain’s face and was mildly surprised to see that he meant that. Schooling his face into an expression of complete sincerity Vic prepared to lie to him,

"I know…I understand. I won’t get in the way of this investigation I want them caught too."

Aceveda didn’t look completely convinced but he nodded and once again turned to leave. Vic didn’t want to end this conversation with a lie so he said, "I want those two to get exactly what they deserve too."

From the open doorway Aceveda once more looked at Vic and frowned at the sincerity he heard behind those words. He frowned because he wasn’t sure if his definition of what the gunmen deserved and Vic’s definition were one and the same thing. However, he couldn’t judge Vic’s expression as he’d turned his back to the door and was once more splashing cold water over his face.

Chapter 21.

Feeling slightly more human after having freshened up a little Vic made his way back to the waiting room. He glanced around as he stepped inside; the two Westwood detectives were sitting off to one side of the room looking bored and not bothering to hide it. If it was up to these two to solve the case Vic reckoned that the perps would never be caught. Not wasting any more of his time with them he steeled himself and looked over to Claudette and Aceveda who were standing by the coffee machine speaking in low tones. Too low for Vic to hear what was being said, but from the way Claudette glanced icily in his direction he guessed the conversation was about him. Turning away he noticed for the first time since re-entering the room that someone had pulled back the blinds on the large window and that it was daylight outside. Vic was surprised not having realised just how much time had obviously passed since he’d entered the hospital earlier. One of the detectives to his right yawned and Vic was about to turn and enquire if they were keeping him awake when the door opened and a middle-aged, male doctor wearing green surgical scrubs stepped into the room.

The atmosphere suddenly changed; the air becoming electric, charged with tension and a surge of worry that was almost palpable. The two detectives came to their feet readying their notebooks and Claudette and Aceveda both moved to stand next to Vic. The doctor smiled, which helped somewhat to lessen the knot of fear that had begun to twist in Vic’s gut, "You’re waiting for news of Detective Wagenbach I assume?" The surgeon asked.

"That’s right, how is he?" Aceveda asked the question they all wanted answered.

"He came through the surgery very well and is in the process of being moved to the intensive care unit." He told them.

The mention of intensive care made that knot inside of Vic begin to twist again.

"My name’s Doctor Austin and I carried out the surgery on Detective Wagenbach. If we can all sit down I’ll explain what we’ve done and how we all move on from here." Smiling the doctor indicated the comfortable waiting room chairs and everyone sat down, while none took their attention away from him.

"Now there are several points to go through with you and if you don’t understand anything don’t hesitate to stop me and ask for clarification. It can be a little daunting trying to take in so much information at once sometimes." He paused while everyone nodded their understanding to him, and while Vic just wished he’d cut the bedside manner and get to the details.

"Well Detective Wagenbach was red-lined from the ER with a grade 3 injury to his spleen. This is a serious condition and meant that there was damage to the spleen, the vessels and the hilum, all of which contributed to serious blood loss due to internal bleeding. He was given seven units of blood during the surgery and will be given a further three units in the ICU. A contributory factor to the spleen injury was the three broken ribs he has on his left side. There are a further two cracked ribs on the left of his rib cage and three cracked ribs on the right side. Now the procedure to remove his spleen was a complete success. He can manage perfectly well without his spleen and should be able to carry on with his life as it was before. The only thing is that it can make him more at risk from infections and illnesses for a while as his immune system will be weakened while he fully recovers. However as long as he is careful and has regular check ups and takes the medication he’ll be prescribed there should be no major problems. He’s young and strong so the prognosis is very favourable." Doctor Austin paused to let them digest this piece of news before he plunged on with the rest of his report.

"Now due to time restraints in the ER they hadn’t inserted a Foley Catheter, but we did in the OR and found that as suspected there was haemurea, or blood in the urine, present. A scan was carried out which indicates that Detective Wagenbach’s kidneys were severely bruised during the attack he suffered. We’re fairly confident that over time the kidney’s function will be fully restored, although he will have blood present in his urine for some time I’m afraid. We’ll be carefully monitoring his urine output to keep a close watch on things. However, there is a possibility that he’ll have to undergo haemodialysis for three or four hours a day just until they recover. Any questions so far?" He asked.

There was a slight pause before he carried on.

"Now on to the damage caused by what was a particularly vicious sexual assault. There is substantial bruising and tearing to the anus, sphincter muscles and rectum. Fortunately there was no perforation of the bowel so that lessens the risk of peritonitis occurring. The damage that was caused required a total of twenty-seven stitches, both internally and externally. Due to the risk of infection which such injuries can cause, and which because of his body’s lowered immunity due to the splenectomy must be avoided if possible, we made the decision to give Detective Wagenbach a temporary colostomy. I would like to emphasize that it is only temporary. When his injuries have healed we’ll take him back to the operating theater and reverse it, which is a minor and easy procedure. Other than a small scar he’ll be fine. I know this is a lot to take in at once but we’re nearly there now." He said smiling reassuringly at his silent, solemn audience.

Clearing his throat he told them the rest.

"He does have a head injury which was causing us some concern and so was given a head CT at the earliest opportunity. The scan revealed a contusion of the cerebral tissue that has resulted in a swelling of the brain at the frontal lobe, which has raised his intracranial pressure. The decision has been taken to elect for drug treatment as opposed to surgery to bring the swelling down. However, his condition will be closely monitored and any deterioration in Detective Wagenbach’s condition would mean surgery becoming an option. Now there are also various contusions and lacerations covering his body and we also found what appears to be several human bite marks." As he said the last the revulsion in the doctor’s voice was evident.

Stopping Doctor Austin sat back in his chair and looked at them expectantly. Vic was still trying to take it all in, it seemed to him to be a horrific list of hurt and damage. Both Claudette and even Aceveda looked slightly shell-shocked at the information they’d been presented with so far. It was Detective Lehane who spoke first, "When will Detective Wagenbach be conscious? We need to get a statement from him as soon as possible."

"Ah," The doctor said. "That might not be possible for some days I’m afraid."

"Why’s that?" Gregory butted in.

"Well," the doctor began, "due to the nature of the attack it’s quite natural to assume that Detective Wagenbach will be very upset and agitated when he regains consciousness. The intracranial pressure means that this is unacceptable, he must be kept as calm and quiet as possible. So he is going to be very heavily sedated for a while, it’ll be a drug-induced coma to help his body heal."

Neither of the Westwood detectives looked very pleased with this news. Doctor Austin smiled apologetically at them before he spoke again.

"Look, Detective Wagenbach will be settled in soon and then two of you can go to see him. However, the ICU can be a shock to those who’re not used to it so if I just tell you what to expect I’m sure you’ll be better prepared."

"Thank you doctor, we’d appreciate that." Aceveda told him.

"Ok, firstly he’ll be on a ventilator, which is always a frightening thing to be confronted with. However, it’s there because of the sedation combined with the rib injuries he sustained, it’s necessary to help Detective Wagenbach with his breathing. Hopefully after three or four days they’ll be able to decrease the level of sedation and wean him off the ventilator."

"So we’ll be able to interview him in three or four days?" Gregory asked impatiently.

Vic had to suppress an urge to smack the man in the mouth and when he glanced at Claudette he could see he wasn’t the only one. As he looked at her she suddenly turned towards him and their eyes locked for a few seconds. A mutual understanding at their annoyance with Detective Gregory passed between them and Vic thought that the coldness in her expression towards him thawed a little. Maybe Aceveda had managed to talk her into giving him a chance. Although Vic wasn’t sure if he was worthy of that chance if it was being offered he would be glad to take it. Him and Claudette hadn’t always seen eye to eye in the past, disagreements occurring between them due to Vic’s methods that often earned him Claudette’s disapproval. However, she had never regarded him as a complete monster and after his recent revelations that was the impression he had gotten from her, and he found himself wanting to redeem himself in her eyes. Soon he’d be able to begin his redemption, when he was able to start searching for the scum who’d done this. The doctor started to speak again and Vic tore his attention back to him not wanting to miss anything.

"Well I doubt it I’m sorry. Although he’ll be less sedated he will still be quite out of things for a further few days. He will have moments of consciousness but they’ll be quite brief to begin with and I doubt he’ll be too lucid at the beginning."

Gregory and Lehane’s disappointment was plain to see at this news.

"You were telling us about the intensive care unit." Aceveda prompted the doctor.

"Ah yes…of course. Now I told you about the ventilator, but there will be quite a few other machines there all helping to monitor his condition, and to help him get well. The intracranial pressure needs to be very closely monitored, of course, so there will be a fibreoptic catheter to do that. Now this always sounds worse to people than it actually is, but the catheter is placed in the top of the head and will rest in the sub dural space. It’s quite harmless there and Detective Wagenbach won’t be experiencing any discomfort from its presence. There will be a central line in his sub clavian vein, which is at his collarbone. This is for his IV that is needed for the blood units he’ll be receiving as well as to deliver drugs and help to restore the optimal fluid and electrolyte balance his body needs. There is a risk of systemic infection following a splenectomy so he’ll be on a broad spectrum of anti-biotics, especially considering his other injuries. These will all be delivered using this IV. Of course there will be an ECG monitoring his heart and a cannula in the radial artery, in his forearm, to monitor his blood pressure. Finally there’ll be a pulse ox monitor clipped onto his finger to measure the oxygen saturation of his blood."

"God." Claudette sighed quietly.

"I realise this must be very difficult for you but please be assured Detective Wagenbach was doing well when the operation had finished and that we will all be doing our very best for him. The ICU with all its machines and unfamiliar noises, alarms, bleeps, can seem overwhelming but just remember it’s all there to help him. Another thing to remember although it might look like it is he isn’t going to break." The Doctor told her.

He turned to Vic and Aceveda as well when he spoke his next words.

"You can touch him. People often think they’re going to pull something vital out if they do…believe me you won’t. It’s been shown that in cases of intracranial pressure the calming effect of touch and being spoken to can help. As I’m sure you know it’s thought that coma patients are aware of their surrounding to a certain extent so we like to encourage interaction. So hold his hand, talk to him it all helps I promise. Now if you don’t have any questions I’ll be leaving you now, but I’ll have someone show you to the ICU when they have Detective Wagenbach settled in and I’ll be sure to check in with him myself soon."

Standing the doctor moved towards the door before he paused and turned back to them.

"Oh I almost forgot. I just wanted to assure you that I’ll make sure the blood tests that were taken with the rape-kit, in the ER, are red-lined through the lab."

"Blood tests?" Aceveda asked.

"Yes…the tests for sexually transmitted diseases, HIV and hepatitis. I’m sorry, I realise this must be hard but as I said before due to the nature of the attack, and the evidence that his attackers didn’t wear condoms, it is necessary."

"Of course." Aceveda said.

Vic was aware that the Captain was thanking the doctor but all he could concentrate on were his last words to them, "…sexually transmitted diseases, HIV and hepatitis." This whole ordeal just got worse and worse, he hadn’t even thought about that. Christ those animals could of given Dutch anything, for all he knew they could already of sentenced him to death. Looking at Claudette he could see the same realisation in her face, the anger once more being replaced with fear.

Chapter 22.

As the door slid shut behind Doctor Austin there was a moment of silence that was broken by the sound of Detective Lehane clearing his throat as he and Gregory put away their notebooks.

"Since we won’t be getting anything from the vict…um from Detective Wagenbach, we’ll be on our way. We want to get things moving so…um…we’ll leave you to it." Lehane stumbled slightly over his words.

Truth be told he was eager to leave. He felt like something of an intruder amongst the Farmington cops, plus this whole case made him distinctly uncomfortable. Detective Mackey’s part in the events of that night complicated things and he could see it all getting horribly fucked up somewhere down the line. Plus while he considered himself a fair-minded guy, male rape just freaked him out. These two were cops for Christ sake surely they should have been able to do something. He glanced at Gregory and saw the same unease on his partner’s face. Then Gregory looked pointedly down at his watch. They had to call in at the crime scene yet to see what forensics had come up with and they would still be four hours late finishing their shift, still the overtime pay would be handy.

"I’ll walk down with you." Aceveda told them. "I need to step outside, I have a couple of calls to make."

"Sure." Lehane said, pausing at the open door of the waiting room.

Turning to Vic and Claudette Aceveda said,

"I won’t be long try and stay civil with each other. I know this is stressful but try to think about what Dutch needs right now and not about yourselves."

With those words of warning he left with Lehane and Gregory, while Vic felt the tension in the room rise a couple of notches. With a sigh he sat down in the nearest chair the entire time feeling Claudette’s gaze on him, he felt like a bug under a microscope. Unable to stand the silent scrutiny that Claudette was subjecting him to he decided to once more try to get her to understand how sorry he was, how much he wished he could change things. Looking up at her he said,

"I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry to you Claudette. If I’d of known when that piece of shit dragged me out of bed what they had planned I’d of tried to get to my gun, but I swear I thought I was doing the right thing, I thought it was just a burglary."

Claudette stared at him and then sat down. She looked down at the floor for a moment gathering her thoughts and then raised her eyes to his as she asked, "Surely there was something you could have done…some way of stopping them?"

Her voice sounded unsure and full of sadness. Vic was shocked, he’d never seen Claudette like this she was always so sure of herself, confident and forthright. He was relieved however that the earlier anger that had been directed at him seemed to have burned itself out. He leaned towards her as he said, "I was afraid Claudette."

She frowned, "Afraid?" She asked sounding confused.

"Yeah…I didn’t know how far these two would go. They threatened to kill me, to kill Dutch…if I made the wrong move I was afraid of what they’d do. You might not agree it was right, and hell I’m not sure it was right either, but I decided it was better for Dutch to live through what they were doing and deal with the fallout afterwards. That’s why I…um…I did what I did. You can’t think I wanted to do that to him surely Claudette. Christ, I know you don’t have a high opinion of my methods sometimes but Jesus."

Claudette bit her lip and looked uncertain for a moment before sighing and shaking her head as she said, "No…no I don’t think you wanted to…I know…I realise that you thought you had no choice but it’s just…it’s hard. God what’s this going to do to him? I told Dutch and Aceveda once that for my first few years on the force I spent most of my time taking witness statements from rape victims at the hospital, I’ve seen this too many times. I’ve seen what it does to people, it’s like a poison that gets in under their skin and changes them, in some cases it destroys them. After having spent so much time seeing what happens to people after this I was always worried it would happen to someone I cared about. I was worried about my daughters, when they were living at home they used to think I was paranoid, obsessed. Nagging them about safety, about being aware, careful…I never thought it could be…"

She stopped her voice breaking and Vic looked away as she angrily wiped her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"He’s going to need you Claudette." Vic told her.

"I know…I know, it’s just..." She paused and then determinedly changed the subject. "Do you think the doctor told us everything?"

Frowning Vic asked,

"What do you mean?"

"About that head injury…about the swelling. You don’t think there could be any brain damage do you? I mean he’d have told us wouldn’t he?" She said.

"Yeah…yeah he’d have told us that. He said Dutch would recover, I don’t think he was lying, and something like that… he’d have told us. It’s the blood tests I’m worried about…shit I hadn’t even thought about that."

Once again turning towards Claudette he saw his own fear mirrored in her expression. She shook her head as she said in a quiet voice,

"It’s a fucking mess."

Before he could responded they both looked up as the door to the waiting room opened, they expected to see Aceveda returning but instead saw a nurse standing in the doorway.

"Hi I’m Nurse Martinez, Doctor Austin asked me to show you to the ICU when Detective Wagenbach was settled in."

They both stood and Vic found himself both eager to see Dutch and afraid to see him at the same time. He needed to reassure himself that he was still alive, that perhaps the decisions he had made earlier were indeed the right ones. That it was better for Dutch to be here in the ICU as opposed to downstairs in the basement, in the morgue. However, he remembered the pale, still, bruised face from what seemed to be days ago, but was in fact only hours ago, and felt a glimmer of reluctance deep within himself at having to face Dutch like that again. Vic pushed that reaction aside, he needed to see him and he needed to be there for Claudette. He reconciled himself with the thought that after this he could finally catch up with Shane and the rest of the Strike Team and find out if they’d learnt anything useful. He’d be able to focus on catching these two bastards and making them pay for what they’d done. He stepped out into the corridor after Claudette as the nurse held the door open for them and then fell into step with the two women as they walked towards the elevators.

"We’re up on the forth floor." Nurse Martinez explained as they entered the elevator.

"How is he?" Claudette asked her.

The nurse smiled reassuringly at them as she answered.

"Oh he’s doing very well. I’m sure Doctor Austin told you that he came through his operation well, and now that he’s settled into the ICU all his vital signs are exactly as they should be. There was one thing we wondered about though?"

"What’s that?" Vic asked.

"Well we’ve only got some of his details on his notes, things can get left out when it’s an emergency admittance, and we were wondering what Detective Wagenbach’s first name is. We like to connect with our patients, try to make them feel as calm and comfortable with us as possible, and that’s a little difficult when we have to keep calling him Detective Wagenbach." She said with a smile.

"Dutch…his name’s Dutch." Claudette told her, then explained when she saw the nurse’s slightly skeptical look, "well everyone calls him Dutch it’s his nickname really. His proper name’s Holland, but he’s not too fond of it. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever heard him use it except when he has to, to give evidence in court or something."

"Well I’ll be sure to write it down on his notes." The nurse told them just as the elevator stopped on the forth floor.

As they stepped out into the corridor they found themselves in front of an admittance desk similar to the one downstairs in the ER.

"Dutch’s room is this way." Nurse Martinez told them as she led them beyond the desk and down a side corridor to the right.

As they approached the third door on the left they could see "Wagenbach" written on a card beside the closed door. The nurse paused and turned to them, "You can both come in and see him for a while. I think Doctor Austin explained to you about what to expect?"

Both Claudette and Vic nodded.

"Yes, he told us about the machines, and…um…gave us an idea of what we’ll see." Claudette told her.

"I thought so," the nurse smiled. "He’s very good for that. Just to reiterate though it can be daunting to see someone you care about, a friend, like this and we understand that. Try to remember that everything here is helping Dutch and he’s not in any pain or discomfort. If you’ve got any questions don’t hesitate to ask, we’re all happy to answer any queries you might have, ok?"

"Yeah." Vic told her, finding himself glancing from the nurse to the closed door nervously.

"Good," she smiled. "Remember to that it’ll help Dutch if you talk to him, touch him and above all you must stay calm around him. It’s surprising how patients can pick up on the feelings of others even if they seem to be deeply unconscious. So although you’re going to find this difficult at first I’m sure, please try to remember that Dutch needs to be reassured and comforted. He needs to feel your presence but in a calming way."

At Claudette’s and Vic’s nods of understanding she reached forward to open the door.

Chapter 23.

The white room was larger then Vic had thought it would be when he stepped inside behind Claudette and nurse Martinez. However, his perusal of his surroundings came to an abrupt end when he ended up nearly running into Claudette’s back when she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. A little annoyed Vic stepped around her and then realised why she’d stopped so abruptly. In front of them seeming to be swamped by all kinds of bleeping, whooshing equipment lay Dutch. He was so pale he seemed to be almost one with the bed he was lying on, it was difficult to see where he ended and the white bedding began. Except for the bruises on his face he was completely drained of any pallor, although at least the stark whiteness was an improvement on the frightening grey hue his face had begun to take on just before the paramedics had shown up back at his house. Vic looked at Claudette, who stood beside him and who still hadn’t moved. Her face was one of complete and utter shock, only the night before she’d said goodbye to her partner as he’d left work and now here he was lying in a hospital and despite the doctor’s reassurances he looked at death’s door. Vic reached out towards her, pausing slightly because he wasn’t sure if she would welcome his touch, but he laid his hand gently on her arm nevertheless. He hoped he could convey his silent support to her. He was relieved when she tore her gaze away from Dutch and turning towards him she smiled a slight, sad smile of acknowledgement.

Meanwhile nurse Martinez moved forward towards the bed letting them gather themselves and in a cheery voice that somehow sounded out of place in the solemn surroundings of the ICU room said, "Hello Dutch it’s Inez, I told you I wouldn’t be gone for long. I brought two of your friends to see you. I’m just going to check that everything’s ok then they can come and sit with you."

Turning back towards Vic and Claudette as she busied herself checking the readings on the various machines around Dutch she told them, "I’m sure Doctor Austin told you that even though Dutch is sedated at the moment we’d like to promote interaction with him. So as well as you speaking to him the staff also like to keep him informed about what’s happening to him, what we’re going to be doing."

With that she once again addressed the unmoving Dutch, "Everything is fine Dutch, I’m just going to note down some readings on your chart and then I’ll go and get your friends a cup of coffee, they look like they could use one."

As she picked up a clipboard of papers from the end of Dutch’s bed and began to write she motioned to Vic and Claudette to come closer. Smiling reassuringly she gestured to the chairs by Dutch’s bedside, "Please sit down and I’ll get you that coffee."

Slowly moving forward to stand by the bed Claudette looked at the nurse, Thank you nurse Martinez."

"No problem, and please call me Inez."

With that she was gone, leaving Vic and Claudette standing over Dutch’s prone figure. Claudette slowly sank down into one of the chairs while Vic stayed standing staring down at Dutch his mind a whirl of conflicting emotions. He wanted, no needed to be here, but another part of him wanted to run, get away from this room with it’s silent unmoving occupant, disinfectant hospital smells and unfamiliar mechanical noises. All that guilt that seemed to be moving through his gut like a living thing seemed to be suffocating him. The pounding in his head intensified and for a moment he felt light-headed. Suddenly he felt a hand on his arm and Claudette’s concerned voice, "Are you alright Vic? Here sit down before you fall down."

Unable to protest Vic let her drag him down into the chair next to her. He took a deep steadying breath as he reached up a shaky hand and wiped away beads of cold sweat from his forehead.

"Jesus," he said his voice as shaky as his hand. "This is all my fault…you were right Claudette I should have done something. Instead I just stood there and let them…let them…God he asked me for help you know and I did nothing…and then I…I became as bad as those perverts. He’ll never forgive me will he?"

Claudette was stunned by the amount of pain and bitter self-hatred she heard in Vic’s voice. He always seemed so sure of himself, so in control, the alpha wolf of the Strike Team pack, but now he sounded lost. All the anger she’d felt for him evaporated in that moment, "Dutch won’t blame you Vic, I know it and…and I don’t blame you either." She told him.

He turned to her searching out her eyes, the uncertainty in his voice sounding foreign and out of place, "You don’t…even though you know what I did…how I hurt him?"

"It wasn’t you it was them and they need to pay for what they did." She replied.

Vic looked at her intensely and said,

"Maybe we should have this conversation outside?"

Claudette nodded and then turned back to the quiet man in the bed beside them. Hesitantly she reached out one hand and gently took Dutch’s right hand in hers, squeezing his fingers hoping he knew she was there. Vic watched her hand in Dutch’s and then looked up at his face. It was relaxed in its drug-induced slumber; his brown hair was tousled and made him appear younger then when he was awake and alert. Vic frowned at the tube that was inserted into Dutch’s mouth and down his throat and dropping his gaze to Dutch’s chest watched as it moved up and down in time to the rhythm produced by the ventilator the tube was attached to. At least he looked peaceful, blissfully unaware of what was going on around him. Vic knew that that would change when he regained consciousness, then the true extent of the damage that had been caused by those animals, and he sadly acknowledged despite what Claudette or Aceveda had told him, himself would become obvious. Looking down to Claudette’s hand holding Dutch’s once more he saw her rubbing her thumb over Dutch’s knuckles, then leaning forward she quietly said, "I’ll be back in a minute son, I’m just stepping outside I’m not leaving you."

Then with a final squeeze of his hand she let go and turned to Vic, "We need to talk."

Nodding Vic stood up and moved aside for Claudette to move past him towards the door. He paused before he moved away and held out a hesitant hand towards Dutch’s forehead, but hastily withdrew it as if he thought his touch would somehow burn the other man. Sighing he turned and followed Claudette to the door.

Chapter 24.

Vic softly closed the door to Dutch’s room and joined Claudette where she stood waiting for him by the open door to an empty room next to Dutch’s. She seemed to search his face expectantly for a moment and then apparently satisfied with what she found there she nodded to herself and said in a quiet tone, "You’re going after them yourself aren’t you?"

Vic paused unsure of how to respond. He knew that Claudette usually disapproved of his methods and so he was hesitant as to how to reply to her question. Her face betrayed no emotion to give him a clue as to her thoughts on the matter. He decided to test out the waters, so to speak, and replied, "It’s Westwood’s investigation, Lehane and Gregory’s case."

Claudette snorted in contempt when he mentioned the two Westwood detective’s names, "Neither of those two could find their ass with a map and instructions!"

Vic had to repress a laugh at her words, but he also agreed with her assessment of their abilities. He also had his suspicions that they weren’t exactly fired up over the case. He had thought he’d detected a certain derisory tone to their voices when they’d spoken to him. An attitude of prejudice that he’d stamped on with the uniform at Dutch’s house previously, but which he knew he was going to have to face once he returned to The Barn. Gossip as juicy as people were going to find this case would spread like wildfire through the department, as he’d told Shane earlier, by tonight the whole city would know about it. Then by the time it had been through the process of Chinese Whispers, the details distorted and exaggerated who knew how bad it would be. At least this was where he could start his redemption towards Dutch. It would be weeks before Dutch returned to work, returned to face people, by then Vic would have made sure that the rumor mill had been well and truly crushed. He’d make sure that everyone would know that if they so much as looked at Dutch in the wrong way, let alone said anything to him to upset him they’d have him to deal with and he’d be pissed.

Returning his attention to Claudette he was still a little wary, "Aceveda won’t let me near the case, a conflict of interest you know that."

Looking at him Claudette leaned in towards him lowering her voice even more, "Don’t take me for stupid Vic. I’d bet a month’s pay that you’ve got your boys out on the street right now trying to dig up any information they can about those two pieces of scum."

Vic paused before he nodded, "I called Shane after I’d spoken to you on the phone."

Claudette smiled a humourless smile and said, "I thought so…well I want in."

Not sure what she meant Vic cautiously asked her, "In on what?"

"Getting those two of course…making them pay for what they did to Dutch."

Vic still wasn’t prepared to tip his hand as he said, "I thought you didn’t approve of vigilante cops Claudette."

She pulled away from him slightly, leaning back against the wall behind her. She briefly turned away from him and then turning back again Vic could see a steely determination in her eyes as she said, "I don’t…I didn’t… but damn it Vic this is different. That’s Dutch in there, my partner…one of us. What those bastards did to him…they need to pay."

Playing devil’s advocate for the moment Vic replied,

"They’ll go to trial, go away for a long time."

Shaking her head Claudette said firmly,

"No that’s not enough and you know it Vic. They get some fancy lawyer out to make a name for himself who’ll get them off on some trumped up technicality and they walk, you’ve seen it happen as many times as I have. What’ll that do to Dutch…having to give evidence in court…the details of what they did to him spread over the front page of every newspaper from here to New York. Christ knows he’s going to be an emotional mess anyway he doesn’t need that on top of everything else. We need to protect him from that Vic…you need to protect him."

She stared into his eyes defying him to contradict her. He had no intention of doing that knowing she was absolutely right. He held her gaze and replied with the same level of determination in his voice as had been in hers, "Don’t worry it won’t come to that. I’ll see to it that it doesn’t…Dutch isn’t going to have to stand up in court and tell the world what they did to him…what I did to him…I swear."

Claudette nodded; satisfied that Vic’s word could be trusted, "I want to help." She told Vic.

Vic shook his head at her, "No Claudette…I get to clean up this mess, you keep clear."

"He’s my partner Vic, I’ve got the right and you know it."

Seeing the determination on her face Vic knew he had to stand firm, "I’m sorry Claudette but no…leave this to me…trust me. You’re right Dutch is your partner and because of that he needs you here with him, helping him get better not out trawling through the shit looking for those pigs."

For a moment he thought she was going to argue with him, but then she nodded her agreement and said, "Let me know how it’s going though, and if you need anything…and I mean anything Vic let me know ok?"

Relaxing Vic nodded, "Yeah I will."

Suddenly Claudette straightened up, "We’ve got company." She hissed.

Turning Vic saw Aceveda coming towards them.

"How is he… have you been in to see him?" He asked them.

"He looks awful, but the nurse said he’s doing well so…" Claudette told him.

"Why are you out here?" Aceveda asked his voice puzzled.

"Vic was just leaving… I just wanted to make sure everything was straightened out between us. You were right Captain I just needed to get some perspective to see Vic wasn’t to blame for what happened to Dutch."

Aceveda looked pleased at Claudette’s words,

"Good I’m glad you’ve gotten everything sorted out between the pair of you, Dutch is going to need all of us working together for him."

"Yes we’ve realised that haven’t we Vic?"

"Absolutely." Vic assured Aceveda.

"Great…I… ah…I called The Chief he’s on his way to the hospital now. I also called to find out Dutch’s next of kin, it seems he still had his ex-wife listed…I called her but she wasn’t interested…she said to make sure that her name was taken off his records." He told them.

"Dutch said she had issues." Claudette said.

"Well I don’t suppose you know anything about his family Claudette?" Aceveda asked.

Shaking her head Claudette told him, "Not really he doesn’t talk about them much…well hardly at all. I think he had some kind of falling out with his father or something and he doesn’t have anything to do with them anymore. The only thing I really know is they still live in Nebraska and his father’s a lawyer or something."

"Ok never mind I’ll sort it out later." Aceveda said.

Turning back to Vic he said,

"Are you alight Vic, you look a little pale?"

Seizing his chance Vic sighed for Aceveda’s benefit and said, "Actually I’m kinda tired…it’s all catching up on me. I thought I’d call Shane and ask him to pick me up...if that’s ok with you?"

"Of course Vic that’s fine, but I don’t want you going into The Barn today alright? You need to get some rest."

"Yeah no problem I think I’ll spend the day asleep." Vic told him.

At this point Claudette stepped into the conversation, "Would you like to see Dutch Captain?" She asked. "I don’t want to leave him alone for too long."

As she spoke she moved back towards Dutch’s door.

"Of course." Aceveda said. Then turning back to Vic he added. "Make sure you get some rest Vic."

Taking that as his cue to leave Vic began to move away from them, turning to say, "Yeah I sure will."

Satisfied Aceveda opened Dutch’s door and stepped inside. Claudette paused before following him and looking at Vic she nodded to him and then turned and entered the room.

As he walked towards the main desk and the elevators Inez came towards him carrying the promised coffees.

"Are you leaving?" She asked. "I was just bringing your coffee."

"I...ah I’ve got some stuff to take care of, but Claudette is still with Dutch and our Captain’s just turned up. I’m sure they’d both appreciate some coffee."

Smiling Inez said,

"Of course, take care and I hope we’ll see you back soon the more visitors Dutch gets the better."

"Yeah I’ll be back when I can." He told her turning towards the elevator and stepping inside.

Chapter 25.

As Vic stepped out of the hospital into the bright sunshine he felt his headache crank up a notch or two and squinting he reached into his trousers pocket for his sunglasses, and cursed to himself when he realised that they were back at Dutch’s house. So walking over to a piece of shade by the hospital entrance he pulled out his phone and dialed Shane’s number. After a couple of rings he heard Shane’s voice, "Vendrell."

"Shane it’s me I’m at the hospital, King/Drew on South Wilmington, and I need you to come pick me up." Vic told him.

"Sure boss I’m on my way. Are you ok? What about Dutch is he all right? Well I guess he’s not…um …you know all right but…um…shit I still can’t believe it."

Vic winced as Shane’s words came pouring into his ear. Shit sometimes the guy just talked too much. Cutting in Vic said, "Look I’m fine just a headache. What about your friend over at Westwood have you spoken to him yet?"

"Oh yeah Tom…um not yet I’ve left a couple of messages for him to call me so it won’t be long. I did what you told me, Lem and Ronnie have been out rolling the shitheads outta their beds." Shane told him.

"Hear anything?" Vic asked.

"No not yet… but we’ll find ‘em boss."

"Oh damn right we will. Look my battery’s low I’m out by the main entrance ok?"

"Ok Vic I’ll be there in ten minutes." Shane said before Vic closed his phone.

With a sigh Vic leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. He could feel what little strength he had left beginning to drain out of him. He wondered absently how he had managed to keep going this long, adrenaline could only sustain a person for so long and Vic didn’t think he had any left in his body. When Shane arrived he would get him to take him to Dutch’s house. That way he could check up to see if the forensics team had finished up yet and grab a shower and a change of clothes. Then some strong coffee and some Tylenol too. He’d need to keep going for a few hours more and then even he had to admit he’d need to get some rest. Just an hour of sleep the night before and then all the anxiety, guilt and anger that had followed really had left him feeling more than a little shaky. Vic knew that to catch these two pricks he’d need to be on top of his game. Not only trying to find them, but avoiding stepping on Westwood’s toes to do it and keeping under Aceveda’s radar. Plus the team would have to keep up business as usual and that would mean still keeping on top of the streets. Making sure the scum knew who was boss.

Vic straightened up and opened his eyes just in time to see a police department black Navigator with Shane at the wheel pulling into a parking space across from where he stood. Forcing himself to stand a little taller, a little straighter Vic strolled across to the car. As he climbed into the passenger seat he couldn’t miss the concerned look Shane was giving him, "Damn Vic you look like shit." Shane told him.

"Yeah well thanks I try you know." Vic replied sarcastically.

To be honest he could really do without conversation at this moment, but knowing Shane he doubted he’d be getting much peace. So relaxing into the seat of the Navigator he said, "I need to get a change of clothes and catch a shower so drop me off at Dutch’s house, and I can see what forensics have come up with at the same time. It’s 1310 Hoover Street."

"Yeah sure…are you sure you’re ok Vic you really do look like crap?" Shane asked as he backed the Navigator out of the parking space and headed for the main road.

"Yeah I’m fine. Bastards cracked me over the head with the butt of a gun. I was out for a few minutes that’s all."

Shane nodded and Vic was glad that he’d decided to drop the subject, accepting Vic’s assurances. However, he knew what Shane’s next question would be, and sure enough after a couple of minutes of silence Shane glanced across at him and, sounding both curious and embarrassed, asked,

"How’s Dutch then…I mean after…well after that…he must be…um…well you know…"

Deciding to put Shane out of his misery and because he couldn’t stand listening to him "uming" and "ahing" his way around the subject Vic told him, "He’s in the ICU unconscious and on a ventilator. They had to remove his spleen because he had internal bleeding and…well the doctor said he’d recover so…. Look Shane I don’t want to talk about it ok."

"Oh yeah I understand." Shane said, thankfully finally keeping quiet.

Vic turned away and leaning his throbbing head back against the headrest of his seat he gazed out of the window. He felt so tired and suddenly numb, although he looked out of the window he didn’t actually see anything that passed by and was surprised when he heard Shane say, "We’re here boss."

Blinking rapidly for a moment to clear the fog out of his brain he realised they were parked outside of Dutch’s house. There were two black and whites parked near them and the path up to Dutch’s house was blocked off with yellow "police line do not cross" tape. Parked in the driveway behind Vic’s car was the forensic team’s SUV. Vic was pleased they were still there, it meant he should be able to find out if they’d discovered anything yet, he doubted they’d have gotten any results back yet but maybe he’d be lucky. Turning towards Shane as he opened the door he said, "Thanks Shane. I need you to get onto that friend of yours and see if Lem and Ronnie have turned anything up. Aceveda’s told me I’m not supposed to show my face in the Barn today, and I don’t want him getting suspicious and poking his nose where it doesn’t belong so I’ll give you a call and we’ll meet up later at your place ok?"

"No problem…are you going to be all right?" Shane asked as Vic climbed out of the car.

"I’ll be fine just take care of this for me Shane." Vic snapped.

He hadn’t meant to speak so harshly to Shane. He knew Shane was only worried about him but he was tired, mentally and physically drained, and he didn’t have the energy to deal with Shane’s anxiety right now. However, he looked back at him before he closed the car door and in a conciliatory tone said, "Sorry Shane it’s just been a tough couple of hours you know?"

Nodding his understanding once more Shane said, "I know it’s ok…don’t worry about it. I’ll speak to you later."

"Yeah I’ll call." Vic assured him stepping away from the car.

Vic stood watching the Navigator as it drove down the street and disappeared around the corner. Taking a deep breath he focused his attention on the task at hand. He walked towards the house, ducking under the police tape and ignoring the curious stares from Dutch’s neighbours, some of whom were watching the police activity from their front lawns while others tried to be more subtle and stared out from behind their twitching curtains. As he neared the open front door a uniformed officer stepped out, "Can I help you?" He asked.

Vic flashed him his badge, watching as the officer’s attitude immediately relaxed.

"I was here last night. I’m staying in the spare room and I needed a change of clothes are you guy’s are nearly finished?" Vic asked.

He forced himself to ignore the speculative glance the uniform gave him. Vic wondered how much he knew about what had happened here, how many of the gory details were already common knowledge. Stepping back out of Vic’s way so he could enter the house the policeman told him, "Forensics are just packing up their stuff and then it’s all yours."

Nodding Vic moved to the base of the stairs and glancing up he could hear the voices of the forensics personnel as they prepared to leave.

"I’ll just go up then."

The cop just shrugged and turned away moving down the hallway towards the kitchen. Vic went upstairs and moved towards Dutch’s bedroom where the sounds of conversation were coming from. As he neared the bedroom door he could feel his heartbeat getting faster, a cold sweat broke out on his forehead and as he reached out to push the door open he was shocked to see that his hand was shaking. Pausing for a moment Vic mentally chastised himself and with an effort pushed his physical reactions aside and pushing open the door he stepped into the room. For a second he was bombarded with a whole gamut of images and emotions and he felt as if the world was sliding away from him. He ruthlessly shoved the feelings aside and fought to steady himself. Then a voice broke though to him and dragged him back into the present, "I said can I help you!"

Vic found himself face to face with a puzzled looking forensics technician and clearing his throat he quickly flashed her his badge, "Detective Mackey have you found anything useful yet?" He asked the woman.

"It’s a little early yet Detective." She told him turning back to her colleagues, rolling her eyes at them.

Stamping down on his annoyance Vic had to grit his teeth as he smiled at her and said, "I realise that but I just thought you might have something to tell me."

After regarding him for a second the woman sighed and said, "Well we’ve got blood and semen samples from the bedding and the carpet. Of course we won’t be able to separate out what’s the victim’s and what’s the perpetrator’s until we get back to the lab, then we’ll start to run the DNA tests. There’s fingerprints to be run through the computer and we’ve taken some hair and fibre samples. Basically I can’t tell you anything until we get back to the lab. Look I already told your buddies this, what are their names…. Gregory and um…" She looked at Vic for help.

"Lehane." He supplied.

"Yeah that’s it Lehane. Don’t you guys talk to each other or something?" She asked.

The others in the room chuckled and smirked slightly as they began to file past him out of the room, taking their bags of equipment and samples with them.

"You know how it is sometimes." Vic replied.

She snorted in derision and began to follow her colleagues from the room before pausing for a second and turning back to Vic, "Oh yeah you could do me a favour. When you seen the other two super-sleuths tell them I sent someone over to the hospital."

Frowning Vic asked, "The hospital?"

"Christ you really don’t talk to each other do you it’s a miracle any crimes get solved." The technician said in disgust. "They told me the victim had been bitten during the attack so I said I’d send someone over to take a cast of the bite."

Vic winced at her words and had to suppress a wave of nausea that passed through him. Looking at him the technician’s eyes softened slightly as she noted his reaction, "Yeah poor guy…Look I’ll get onto these straight away, get the results as fast as I can ok?"

Vic mumbled his thanks and watched as she joined her colleagues as they made their way downstairs and out of the house. Vic glanced quickly around the now silent room and with a shudder followed them. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and found the cop he’d spoken to earlier waiting for him.

"We’re all done here so can we leave you to secure the property?" He asked Vic.

"Yeah sure no problem."

Suddenly the front door was closed and Vic found himself alone in the now empty, silent house. He slowly sank down until he was sitting on the stairs and lowered his head into his hands.

Chapter 26.

Vic wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he sat at the bottom of the stairs his aching head in his hands. Eventually though he knew he had to move and with a weary sigh he stood and turned to walk to the kitchen. Once there he crossed to the fridge and opening the door peered in until he spotted a couple of bottles of water. He took one and uncapping it took a long drink of the cool liquid. He put the nearly empty bottle down and turned to look at the back door, the point of entry for the perps. The door and its glass panes were now covered in fingerprint dust, as was the key that sat in the lock. Vic walked forward, reached out and turned the key locking the door. Then he removed the key from the lock and placed it on top of the fridge. He felt a sudden flare of anger rise up within him. Jesus, how could Dutch be so stupid. With their job they got to see the worst of human nature on a regular basis. They got to see the horrors that one human being could inflict upon another. Yet here in his own home Dutch had no alarm system, and he left the door key in place so all it had taken was one smashed pane of glass and those animals had been in the house. All of this could have been prevented if Dutch had just had a grain of common sense, if he’d been more careful. Vic growled out loud, "Christ what a fucking idiot…Jesus this was just asking for trouble!"

Then he stopped as he realised what he’d said, what he’d been thinking? Was he going to conform to the old prejudice, that somehow the victim, Dutch, had been "asking for it"? Was he blaming Dutch now for what had happened? Shaking his head Vic bent down and began to carefully pick up the pieces of broken glass from the floor. He realised that yeah he was a little pissed at Dutch for being so careless about his own security, his own safety. However, he was also pissed at himself for not doing anything to help him. He was pissed at the shitty attitude he could already see forming with the investigating officers. He was pissed at those two fucking bastards who thought they had some kinda right to break in here, use Dutch, and he had to admit himself, for their own perverted pleasure. To cause misery, heartache and pain just to satisfy their own selfish twisted desires. Also Vic realised he was just really pissed off at the world in general that let shit like this happen. That let people like those sick fucking bastards hurt someone like Dutch.

After putting the broken glass in the bin Vic stared at the broken pane. Somehow he didn’t think Dutch was the Do It Yourself type, and so doubted he’d find many tools or wood to fix the hole with. He couldn’t wait around today for someone to fix it so after a moment’s thought, and a search through the kitchen drawers, he ended up ten minutes later staring at the back of a Cornflakes packet which was taped over the hole. It would do for now, and he grimaced when he thought that at least no one could reach in and just unlock the door. Unwilling to enter into that train of thought again Vic picked up the nearly empty bottle of water and trudged up the stairs. He went into the bathroom and in the cabinet above the sink he found a bottle of Tylenol. After taking several and washing them down with the last of the water he collected some clean clothes from his room and quickly stripping off got into the shower. Vic turned the temperature up as high as he could bear it and stood with his face turned towards the shower head, letting the hot spray of water bombard his tired, aching body.

As the hot water ran over his body and swirled away down the drain Vic could feel the heavy lethargy that had begun to descend on him swirling away with it. He reached out for the soap and began to scrub his body clean. He scrubbed harder and longer than usual, trying to wash away the negative feelings and emotions that he felt the events of the previous hours had left imprinted on his body, ingrained into his flesh. He tried to visualize all those negative emotions, the ones that would distract him, make him weak, swirling away down the drain with the soapy water. He wanted to wash away the guilt, the regret, the self-loathing and disgust, the self-pity, the fear, the horror at the thought he’d become something he hated, a rapist. No matter what Aceveda had tried to tell him earlier he felt he couldn’t shake that stain from his soul. As he scrubbed at his body willing all those emotions away he barely felt the tears that ran down his face, merging with the water and which were also swirled away.

When he finally finished Vic stepped out of the shower and began to dry himself. He felt stronger, his mind clearer, more himself. He wasn’t sure if he had truly exorcised himself of those unwanted emotions or, as he suspected, he’d merely managed to push them deep down within himself. However, all he felt burning within himself now were those emotions he knew he’d need now to get the job done. He could feel the ice cold burn of his hatred, a raw anger, the need, the desire for revenge. He was going to get those two animals and make them suffer. He was going to do it for Dutch, for Claudette and for himself. If he was going to be able to keep those negative emotions at bay then he knew he would need to do this. He felt as if it would be his personal salvation, and he needed to focus his whole being on it. He had to know that he’d done everything possible to ensure that those two creatures would never get the chance to hurt anyone else the way they’d hurt Dutch. He didn’t doubt for a second that they’d do it again, maybe that they’d done it before. However, he knew that this would be the last time. Dutch was going to be their last victim, because they’d made a fatal error. They’d gotten onto Vic Mackey’s radar and as he’d told that piece of shit loan shark Manny Sandoval after the mess with the Cupid crystal meth, that was never a good thing.

Chapter 27.

Vic lay in bed and stared up at the ceiling. It had been two days since the attack, and he was no closer to catching those two sick pricks. Westwood were completely fucking hopeless, and he was sure if he had to see those two smarmy dicks, Gregory and Lehane, again he’d probably be forced to kill them.

He’d gone back to The Barn yesterday for the first time, and what a joyous experience that had been. As he’d walked in it had reminded him of a scene from an old-fashioned Western. The moment when a stranger walks into the saloon and everyone falls silent and stares. It had answered his question as to how much of that night’s events had become general knowledge. The looks he got ranged from pity, disgust, embarrassment and amusement, and pretty much everything in between. He’d been relieved to get to the Clubhouse, and shut the door on everybody. He’d not enjoyed the feelings that had welled up within him at that point, the wish to hide. It just wasn’t him. Vic Mackey didn’t hide from anybody, and he didn’t let what people thought about him get in his way either. At that moment he’d vowed that it would be the last time he hid himself away, and so it had proven. For the rest of that day, and for today, he’d made sure he’d held his head up high, and carried on as if nothing had changed. He’d noticed a couple of times that whispered conversations would cease as soon as he appeared, and a few jerks avoided him, but that was their problem he decided. On the whole it seemed as if most people took their cue from him, and quickly settled down, and tried to act as normally as possible.

Danny had been the only person to directly ask him about the attack, but of course they had a history together. She’d wanted to know how he was, how Dutch was, if there was anything she could do, and to let him know she was there if he needed anything. He’d answered her questions, and thanked her for her offer of help. However, he’d been glad when she’d left. The pity and concern in her eyes pissing him off. Jesus, he wasn’t broken, he wasn’t in need of "tea and sympathy". What he needed was to exact some payback, but at the moment that didn’t look likely.

There was nothing out on the street. Whoever those two pricks were they at least had the sense to keep their mouths shut, they weren’t bragging. Forensics had been a bust too. They had no fingerprint or DNA matches. That could mean that it had been the first time they had carried out an attack like the one him and Dutch had suffered, but somehow Vic doubted it. They had seemed too cocky, too in control, as if they’d done it before. Of course considering the nature of the attack it was possible that any previous victims had failed to report it. God knows how many women failed to report rape. Afraid of not being believed. Afraid of the stigma, and feeling ashamed. Afraid to face the whole grueling justice system. So when he thought about it, how many men must there also be who wouldn’t file a report if they’d been raped. Would Dutch have done so Vic wondered, if he’d been alone that night, if Vic hadn’t been there? Sure Dutch was a cop and so should feel obliged to "do the right thing", plus Vic always thought he was a bit of a Boy Scout, an everything-by-the-book kinda guy. Still if he’d been alone, if they hadn’t beaten him as badly as they had done, what would he have done? Would he have called in sick for a week, and then tried to carry on as if nothing had happened, letting it eat away at him from the inside? Is that what other men were doing? Vic was convinced that was the case, and fuck it he wanted to get to those two before someone else had to carry that horrible secret around with them for the rest of their lives.

He wondered how they’d chosen Dutch as their target. Now he thought about it the gunman who’d entered the spare room, and woken him up, had seemed surprised to find him there. What was it he’d said to his friend, "Looky here we’ve got two for the price of one."

Maybe they’d been expecting to find Dutch alone in the house. If that was the case then how did they know he lived on his own? Had they been stalking him? If they had maybe Dutch had noticed something? If he had he hadn’t mentioned it to Claudette; else she would have said something after the attack. There again Dutch always struck Vic as the kind of guy who’d bottle things up; he always seemed a little uptight. So maybe he had noticed something and had kept his worries to himself. Well it wasn’t as if Vic could ask him. He spoken to Claudette a couple of hours ago, when she’d called him to find out if there had been any progress in finding the perps, Vic winced inwardly as he remembered the disappointment in her voice when he’d had to tell her that they were still looking. According to Claudette Dutch was still unconscious, still in the ICU on a ventilator. However, he’d been relieved to hear that the doctors were pleased with his progress, and that hopefully they’d be stepping down the sedation in a couple of days, and weaning him off the ventilator as planned. Once that happened Dutch would slowly begin to regain consciousness, and Vic wanted to be able to tell him, when he did, that those two bastards would never be bothering anyone again. He didn’t think he’d be able face Dutch until he could assure him of that. Vic began to think that if he could figure out why they’d chosen Dutch, perhaps it would lead him to those sick pricks, and he could have his retribution. Sighing Vic turned over and closed his eyes, if he didn’t get some sleep he would be good for nothing tomorrow and he still had plenty to do.

*

God this felt so good. Every nerve ending in his body was ablaze. His skin tingled everywhere those hands touched him, everywhere that long lithe body moved against him. The willing body under him squirmed and thrust up against his body. Breathy moans of pleasure were exhaled against his neck sending a shiver of desire racing through him. He could feel himself thrusting steadily into that hot, tight, velvety heat. The body under him arching up to met each thrust, willing him to penetrate as deeply as he could, to posses as completely as he could. He could feel the exquisite building of his own release, rushing through his veins like liquid fire. It was so close he felt himself teetering upon the precipice, the anticipation of his orgasm heightening the experience. He could feel those long fingered hands running down his back, skimming over his sensitized flesh. They moved around pressing against his chest, the passion filled, unintelligible moans becoming louder. He could feel himself letting go, his orgasm rushing through him gathering pace, overwhelming him. The release was so sweet, so intense for a moment he was totally consumed by it. Then as the high began to subside he became aware of those hands against his chest; he became aware of the words that had replaced those sexually charged moans of pleasure. The hands weren’t exploring his body; they were trying to push him away. The body under him was no longer arching up against him seeking contact; it was trying to cringe away from him. The voice that had been expressing it’s wordless encouragement, it’s pleasure, was now brokenly chanting one word over and over again, "…no, no, no, no, no…" Startled he looked down to see a bruised face with wide, tear-filled eyes staring back at him. Those eyes were filled with fear and betrayal.

*

With a cry of horror Vic woke up covered in sweat, the sticky dampness in his underwear telling him how intense an experience the dream had been. That final image, the fear and betrayal in those eyes, in Dutch’s eyes, combined with the evidence of his pleasure made the gorge rise up in Vic’s throat, and he barely made it to the bathroom in time before he was violently sick.

Rising shakily from his position kneeling in front of the toilet after the dry heaving finally stopped. Vic turned on the shower and without even pausing to remove his shorts he climbed in and tried to wash away all traces of his body’s betrayal. He peeled the wet material away from his body leaving them in a heap on the shower stall floor as he vigorously soaped and scrubbed himself.

Even though he’d stayed in the shower, washing himself until the water had turned icily cold, Vic still felt dirty, contaminated. Contaminated by his own guilt, by the nagging fear and self-doubt that maybe something fundamental in his character had been uncovered by the events of that awful night. Maybe there was a monster lurking deep within himself, some twisted creature that he’d unknowingly repressed, but which had been awoken by the events he’d witnessed, by that act of cruelty he’d been forced to take part in. Was that dream a warning from his sub-conscious that he’d been infected by some insidious, evil perversion? Knowing he couldn’t face going back to bed, he couldn’t risk being caught up in that dream, that nightmare, again he made his way downstairs to the kitchen and made himself some very strong coffee. Leaning back against the edge of a cupboard Vic stared at the memo board fixed to the wall next to the back door. Trying to take his mind off the morbid thoughts that were trying to crowd into his head he read the few things pinned to it. A half finished shopping list, a reminder that it was Suzie’s birthday in two days time, Vic wondered who Suzie was, a dry cleaning ticket for two suits that should have been picked up yesterday, and a couple of business cards. Gazing closer to read the small print on the cards one was for a local garage, one was for a computer repair firm, and the last one was for some guy who repaired washing machines. Next to this card was another of those notes Dutch had written to himself as a reminder, just like for the mysterious Suzie’s birthday. This one simply read "coming to fix w m on 13th at 10a.m." Today was the 26th and since Vic had used the washing machine yesterday evening he guessed Dutch had merely forgotten to take the reminder down. He reached out to tear it down and put it in the trash when he paused, and gazed first at the note and then to the business card. The gunmen had seemed to know Dutch lived on his own, they’d seemed surprised to find Vic there. Glancing at the now fixed back door he realised they’d known how to gain access to the house, seemed to know there was no alarm system. Looking back at the business card Vic reached out and pulled out the red pin that held it in place, and looked down at the name and address on it, Tom Prescott, 624, Greenfield Road, Pasadena. Going over to the calendar, where he’d noticed before that Dutch had his shifts written up, the 13th was down as a day off, he’d obviously taken it off to wait in for this Prescott. The fact that he was on day shift all last week and for this week was written there plain as day for anyone who cared to look at it. So anyone who’d been in the house would be able to see at a glance when Dutch would be at work, and when he’d probably be at home. Utility workers, repairmen - well Vic thought we all tend to let them into our homes, and while they’re working if they talk don’t we tend to talk back trying to be friendly. Maybe even answering certain questions about who else lives with us without even noticing we’re doing it. Putting down his coffee cup Vic looked at his watch 4:38 a.m., time to get his boys out of bed early, see what they could dig up about this Tom Prescott.

Chapter 28.

Vic longed to be able to roll his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension from them, but he needed to remain still and quiet and focused. The past three days had been long and busy, finally bringing him to his goal. The research the team had carried out on Tom Prescott had proved pretty fruitless. The guy had nothing on him except a couple of parking tickets and a DUI from four years ago. Vic had stared at his driving license photo for hours, but hadn’t felt any sense of recognition. Of course the perps had both worn ski masks, but even staring at Prescott’s eyes, in the photo, Vic couldn’t say one way or the other if he was one of them. Then they’d taken a trip to Pasadena, and settled in to observe his house, see the guy in the flesh. Some discrete questioning of his neighbours had uncovered a few interesting facts. He lived alone after a short and stormy marriage, which had been over for a couple of years, and his cousin from Georgia had been staying with him for about six months. This grabbed Vic’s attention as he remembered the leader of the two men had had a Georgia accent. He shuddered as he remembered how he’d felt that bastard’s warm breath against his ear as he’d leaned in filling Vic’s mind with his perverted, poisonous words. Telling him how much he’d enjoyed raping Dutch, insinuating that Vic had been turned on by it, insinuating that he wanted to rape him too. Vic heard that voice in his dreams, whispering those same hateful words to him out of the dark. Although he didn’t like to admit it, even to himself, but Vic would listen to Shane speak and find a shiver going down his spine just from the sound of his voice. He had to keep stopping himself from telling Shane to shut up every time the poor guy opened his mouth to say anything.

Although the circumstantial evidence had seemed strong it had been his first sighting of the two men that had convinced Vic. It had been the evening during their first day of observation when Lem had nudged him awake from a light doze, and indicated the house. As Vic had looked he’d felt his hackles rise and his blood run cold in his veins. He didn’t need to see their faces. Their build, their body language, just the way they moved, and he knew, without a doubt he knew, these were the two. The two fucking sick animals who’d caused so much hurt. He watched them laughing as they got into Prescott’s car and drove off together. Vic had stared after their car as it drove away, watching the two red taillights disappearing into the gathering darkness. Lem had wanted to know if he should follow them, but Vic had wanted to case the house, a plan already beginning to form in his mind.

Now everything was in place and his plan was about to come to fruition. Unfortunately he’d had to shelve his original plan for revenge. One which had involved an abandoned warehouse, castration with a blunt, rusty knife and rats, lots of hungry rats. As satisfying as that scenario was Vic knew he’d have to be rather more subtle if he wanted to give Dutch any peace of mind. As well as his own deep-seated need to be avenged against these perverted creatures, Vic also wanted to do this for Dutch. He wanted Dutch to know that there was no possibility of these two ever returning to hurt him again. He also wanted to spare Dutch from having to give a detailed statement. He didn’t want him to have to go through what he’d gone through. Having to recount everything while those two idiots from Westwood wrote everything down, and judged him from their own narrow, bigoted, ignorant standpoint. If Vic went with his original dark plan for an almost Old Testament form of revenge he wouldn’t be able to achieve either of these things. If Prescott and his cousin, Sam Tortora, simply disappeared there’d be nothing to link them to the attack. Then Dutch would be expected to give his statement, and would have to live the rest of his life always looking over his shoulder. Vic knew that for Dutch to have a chance at healing he’d have to be sure that there was no way that those two would be coming back. Also if Vic took them, and yet managed to implicate them in the attack, then he would be the first suspect in their disappearance. He knew that Aceveda had expressed his sympathy towards him, and had actually surprised Vic by his sincerity, but would he let a chance to nail Vic pass him by? Somehow, Vic doubted it, and was convinced that if Aceveda thought he could bring Vic down by implicating him in the two men’s disappearance then he would. So Vic had had to come up with an alternative plan for exacting his revenge, his redemption. He could feel the tension in his body rising even more as he realised the moment was almost here.

Trying to relax he smiled to himself as he realised he’d be in trouble with Aceveda tomorrow. After days of managing to avoid the Captain, he’d finally cornered Vic in the Clubhouse, and ordered him to see the department shrink. He’d refused Vic’s assurances that it was unnecessary, and he’d told him it was mandatory, and he’d revoke his active duty status if he didn’t comply. The first appointment had been about four hours ago, and Vic had blown it off to be here. He knew this would do his psyche more good then spending the next couple of months on a psychiatrists couch, looking at ink blots, talking about his childhood, or whatever other bullshit he’d have to put up with. Tomorrow he’d apologize to Aceveda, and meekly attend the required sessions, and tell the shrink whatever he wanted to hear to get a clean bill of health. Right now though he was going to cure his problems the best way he knew how, through actions not words. Vic turned his attention back to the matter at hand as he heard Ronnie approaching.

Without having to check Vic knew that in their own positions Lem and Shane were also readying themselves. They hadn’t hesitated in supporting Vic when he’d outlined his plan to them. He’d told them he’d understand if they didn’t want to get involved in what he had to do, and he’d been heartened when none of them had wanted to pull out. Clutching his gun tightly Vic listened as Ronnie spun Prescott a tale of wanting to hire him to repair his washer dryer. He even flashed Prescott the business card Vic had taken from Dutch’s kitchen, telling him a friend had recommended him. Just as Prescott took the chain off his door, asking Ronnie which friend had recommended him, he was taken completely by surprise when three armed men rushed him. As Lem and Shane moved on through the house to secure Tortora, and Ronnie closed the door behind them, Vic shoved Prescott up against the wall. He had his forearm across Prescott’s throat, and his gun pressed against his temple as he got right into his face, coldly smiled and said, "Hello again asshole. Remember me?"

Vic watched in satisfaction as Prescott’s face paled. His eyes widened in recognition and shock, and for one delicious moment Vic actually thought the pig was going to piss himself in fear. Oh yeah revenge was sweet Vic thought to himself, and felt the smile on his face widen.

Chapter 29.

Vic sat in his car in the hospital car park and gazed at the building in front of him, a mosaic of concrete and glass. He knew he should get out of the car and go inside, but still he hesitated. His hands dropped from the steering wheel into his lap, and he tried to ignore the fact that they shook slightly. Leaning his head back against the headrest behind him he closed his eyes.

*

One arm twisted up, almost to breaking point, behind his back Vic marched Prescott down the hallway of the house, and into the living room where he could hear Shane and Lem’s voices. Pushing Prescott into the room Vic turned to face Tortora.

He was pushed back against a wall, both Shane and Lem’s weapons trained on him, and yet he was ignoring them, and was staring at Vic. There, on his face, was that same infuriating smirk as he’d had that night at Dutch’s house.

"Well, well tough guy, I wasn’t expecting to see you again." He drawled sounding amused. Then making a show of looking past Vic to the empty doorway behind him he said, "Aw, didn’t you bring our little fuck toy along with you? Now we’ve broken him in for you don’t you like to share him huh? And after we shared him with you too. Did you tell your friends here how much you enjoyed fucking his mouth? Almost as much as we enjoyed fucking his ass."

Vic moved forward with a snarl, and pulled his fist back, feeling a surge of satisfaction rush through him when he felt it impacting with the other man’s flesh.

*

His eyes snapping open Vic took a deep breath, and he rubbed a hand down over his face as he finally opened the car door, and got out. Looking down at his reddened knuckles he remembered how he’d wanted to keep on smashing his fist into Tortora until he’d pulverized him. He’d wanted to keep on hitting him, and not stop. To pour out all his hatred through his fist, and transfer it into the other man, destroying him with it. However, that initial flare of satisfaction he’d felt had rapidly burnt itself out, and Vic had been able to pull himself back, rein himself in, and remember the plan.

*

Tortora was left gasping, bent over, an arm clasped around his stomach, when Vic made himself stop, and step back from him. Prescott was looking from Vic to his cousin with frightened eyes, and Vic was glad. Glad that he was afraid, he deserved to be.

Vic turned towards him, remembering how much Prescott had wanted his "turn" that night. He remembered how he’d made sure Vic kept his eyes open so he had to watch Dutch’s suffering. He remembered how Prescott had raked his nails down Dutch’s back as he’d raped him, and how he’d whooped it up and laughed when he’d finished.

Taking a step towards Prescott Vic couldn’t help but curl his lip in contempt as he cringed away from him and whimpered,

"No…please don’t…It was Sam…it was his idea…I didn’t want to he made me…I swear."

"You lying bastard…" Vic said before he found himself interrupted by Tortora, "Shut up Tom…I didn’t force you to do anything…and you loved it just as much as I did. For fuck sake stop sniveling. What do you think he’s gonna do huh?"

Vic turned back to Tortora, and found him smiling at him as he told Vic, "You can’t do fuck all to us. You’re a cop. We read it in the paper." He nodded his head in the direction of some old newspapers piled up on a table in the corner, "You made page four, "Policeman injured during home invasion." He quoted, "You can’t do anything to us tough guy cause you’re cops. Man, it felt good though, knowing we’d gotten to fuck a cop. Oh, how is he by the way? Paper said he’d been taken to hospital…we weren’t too rough on him were we?"

*

Christ, Vic had been dreading this. He walked through the hospital doors, and tried not to think back to the last time he’d been here. He tried not to remember the gamut of emotions that had been rushing through him then.

Walking to the elevators he got in one and pressed the button for the fourth floor, thankful that he was alone. He stared dully at the red numbers as they lit up, and darkened again, counting off his ascent to the ICU.

This wasn’t how he was supposed to feel. He was supposed to be feeling vindicated, cleansed, instead he felt deflated and empty. True he’d rid himself of his rage, his thirst for revenge, but then he’d found himself hollow. Nothing had rushed in to fill the void inside him, and now it was as if that aching chasm was threatening to engulf him. Except that he knew it wouldn’t. It wouldn’t have time to do that, because there were a multitude of emotions waiting to fill that void within him. It was like an internal pressure was building, a dam about to burst, and when it did he knew it would release a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions, that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to handle. That realisation frightened him somewhat.

He had hoped that all those negative emotions would miraculously be gone. The guilt, the self-loathing, the disgust at what he’d forced on Dutch, the anger at himself for, what he perceived as, his own weakness, he’d hoped they’d all been excised. However, they’d merely been suppressed, and he could feel them waiting to overwhelm him.

As the elevator doors opened and he stepped out he heard Claudette call his name. He’d phoned her to tell her he was coming to the hospital, and to tell her he had some news. He turned to face her, and had to suppress the urge to turn away again as she searched his face, a slight frown forming at what she saw there.

"The nurses are in with Dutch at the moment, he needs his dressings changed, but they should be finished soon. We can talk in the visitors room." Claudette said, indicating a room off to the left of the admittance desk.

Once inside the empty room Vic flopped down into a chair with a sigh. Indicating the machine in the corner Claudette asked,

"Do you want a coffee or anything?"

"Nah, I’m good." He replied, sounding anything but.

The silence between them stretched on for several minutes until Claudette asked in a quiet voice, "Is it over…is it done?"

*

Vic smiled back at Tortora, a cold, bitter smile. He ignored Tortora’s cruel words, determined not to let him bait him. Then he walked over to Prescott. As he stepped into his personal space, Prescott flinched, pressing himself back against the wall behind him. As Vic leant forward towards him a small whimper escaped his mouth, and he closed his eyes tightly shut. Vic slapped him hard across the face, and Prescott’s frightened eyes snapped open and stared at him.

"Yeah that’s right open your eyes asshole. You have to keep your eyes open, wouldn’t want you to miss anything now would we? Do you remember how you made sure I kept my eyes open huh? Do you remember how you made sure I had to watch, made sure I didn’t miss anything?"

Prescott’s face was devoid of any colour, his mouth hanging slackly open, but he didn’t speak, merely nodded dumbly at Vic’s questions.

"Good I’m glad. See I remember everything you said too…every fucking word." Vic told him.

He slowly took a couple of steps back, and reached behind himself, to the small of his back. Out of the corner of his eye, off to his left, he could see Shane fidget, an intense, focused look on his face as he nodded, and muttered just loud enough for Vic to hear, "Oh yeah man…do it."

Vic’s fingers closed on the cold metal of the gun he had tucked into the waistband of his jeans. It was from his "emergency supply" of untraceable weapons that he kept hidden in the trunk of his car. It was the one he’d acquired to replace the gun he’d planted on Chaco Orozco to save Lem’s ass when Lem had shot Chaco mistakenly thinking he was armed. Pulling the weapon Vic pointed it at Prescott, who grimaced and made a noise half whimper, half groan, and pressed himself back against the wall as if he somehow thought he could force his way back through it and escape. A sharp tang made Vic wrinkle his nose, and glancing down he saw that Prescott had finally lost control of his bladder, the front of his trousers darkening with urine.

Vic felt nothing as he pointed the gun at the terrified man. He’d thought he’d feel excitement, satisfaction, but instead he just felt cold and empty. His voice quiet, level, never wavering he told Prescott,

"Yeah I remember every fucking word you said to me you sick prick. Remember what you told me? If I didn’t do what you wanted you were gonna make me watch while you killed him. Remember the words you used "blow his face off, splatter his brains all over the wall"? Well guess what? Payback’s a bitch asshole."

Vic didn’t hesitate as he squeezed the trigger, and turned Prescott’s words against him.

Tom Prescott’s brains did splatter all over the wall behind him. Blood fanning out so far up the wall it almost reached the ceiling. Little gleaming white fragments of skull were stuck to the wall by blood or the tattered pieces of scalp they adhered to.

Shane wordlessly stepped forward, and took the gun from Vic, and began to carefully clean off any fingerprints that might be on it. Meanwhile, Vic turned towards Tortora.

He wasn’t smiling now. In fact, he just stared, open-mouthed, at the body of his cousin. Finally, finding his voice, he snapped his head around to face Vic, "Oh fuck…oh fuck…Jesus what have you done? You…you can’t do that…you’re a cop. Christ man you’re a cop…"

Stepping up to him, his left hand going around Tortora’s throat, pushing his head back into the wall, Vic got so close to him he could feel the other man’s panting breath on his face, "Shut the fuck up you piece of shit. Did you think I was gonna arrest you huh? Lock you up in a nice warm cell. Then make my friend have to stand up in a courtroom, and describe what you did to him. Is that what you thought? Well surprise…you’re fucking wrong. See he isn’t gonna have to go through that, he isn’t gonna have to look at you again, or fucking think about you, cause you’re gonna be dead."

At that Tortora struggled briefly, but soon stopped when Vic squeezed harder on his throat. Vic continued, "See it’s gonna go down like this. You two pricks have some kinda falling out, don’t know what about, and don’t care. Anyway your cousin there pulls a knife on you."

Here Ronnie stepped forward, and handed Vic a carving knife that he’d fetched from the kitchen. Turning to look at it Vic then turned back, and smiled at Tortora, and said, "Ah just like this one…Now where was I? Oh yeah…he pulls a knife and stabs you with it."

Vic felt the knife sinking into Tortora’s stomach, slicing through flesh and muscle. Leaning all his weight against it Vic felt it sink into him up to the handle. He watched Tortora’s face, his eyes just an inch from his own, as the blade sank inexorably deeper. Tortora’s eyes widened with surprise, and pain, the only noise coming from his throat a gurgling sound. His hands briefly closed around Vic’s hand where it held the knife, but he was already weakening, and after several ineffectual attempts to pull Vic’s hand away they fell back to his sides.

Supporting more and more of Tortora’s weight with the hand around his throat, and the knife buried in his gut, Vic finished telling him the scenario of his death, "A knife in the guts, really fucking painful and slow. So you grab a gun, which will have your fingerprints all over it, and blow him away "splatter his brains all over the wall"." Then leaning in so close that he was whispering in the dying man’s ear Vic told him, "I promised you I was gonna find you, and kill you, and I always keep my promises you sick bastard."

Then releasing Tortora Vic stepped back and watched dispassionately as he slid down the wall and bled to death.

*

Vic didn’t tell Claudette the details; she didn’t need to know. However, he did say,

"We left a photo of Dutch there. It was a picture of him in uniform, his academy graduation portrait; I took it from his living room. We can say they must have taken it as a souvenir before they left the house. It’ll tie them to the crime, and the fingerprints and DNA will do the rest."

Claudette nodded and asked,

"It was definitely them?"

"Oh yeah." Vic grimly confirmed, "Don’t worry it was them."

"Good," Claudette said firmly, before adding, "You can never tell him Vic. You can never tell him what you did…what I agreed to you doing. Dutch wouldn’t understand…he isn’t…well he just wouldn’t understand."

"Don’t worry I wasn’t planning on telling him anyway. He doesn’t need to know, and besides he’s gonna have enough to deal with." Not wanting to talk about the previous night, or even think about it, Vic changed the subject, "How is he?"

Claudette sighed and finally also sat down,

"He’s doing a lot better. They took him off the ventilator yesterday, and he’s breathing well on his own. The pressure in his skull has come down to normal, and all his blood tests came back negative."

Vic released a breath at that news, the spectre of HIV, which had lurked unacknowledged at the back of his mind, was finally banished,

"Thank God for that at least." He muttered.

Claudette nodded her agreement, before continuing,

"He does have a slight fever. He’s got an infection from one of the ah…the bites."

She grimaced as she spoke those last words.

"Bastards." Vic ground out, before asking her, "Is he awake?"

"Sometimes. They’ve stepped down his sedation a bit, but he’s still on a lot of pain medication, and that seems to keep him mostly asleep. When he does wake up it’s not for very long, and he’s usually pretty out of it, confused. Half the time I’m not sure he’s got any idea where he is, or what’s going on."

Before Vic could reply the door opened, and a nurse that Vic recognised as Inez, looked around the door and smiled at Claudette, "We’re all done Claudette if you want to go in and sit with Dutch for a while." Then looking at Vic her smile widened as she said, "Oh hi…um Detective Mackey right?" At Vic’s nod she continued, "Good to see you back. Are you going in to see Dutch as well?"

"Yeah…yeah I am." Vic replied standing up.

This was a moment Vic had been dreading, and he found that despite his hopes the events of the previous night weren’t making it any easier.

Chapter 30.

Vic followed Claudette out of the visitor’s room, and down towards the same room that he’d last seen Dutch in, when he’d lain so pale and still surrounded by wires and machines.

It had been a week since Vic had last seen Dutch, and with everything that had happened it had felt like the longest week of his life. Claudette led the way into Dutch’s room and Vic was pleased that he’d barely hesitated before following on behind her. Turning to him Claudette said, "He looks better don’t you think?"

Finally looking at the man lying in the bed Vic had to acknowledge that she was right, he did look better, superficially at least. The most obvious improvement was the removal of the ventilator. The absence of its mechanical, methodical whooshing noise making the room seem a little less intimidating. That Dutch’s chest rose and fell under it’s own volition, softly, barely moving now he was asleep, was a relief to see after the regimented, regular, unnatural movement forced on him by the ventilator. While the equipment monitoring Dutch’s heart beat and blood pressure still remained in place, it’s steady beeping was reassuring, almost calming.

Stepping up closer to the bed Vic looked down at Dutch. He looked peaceful in his sleep, the bruising that had stood out so starkly the last time Vic had seen him was faded, and had virtually all but disappeared. He wasn’t so pale either, his cheeks were actually flushed a little pink. Although when he noted the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and remembered Claudette saying he had a slight fever, he supposed that the colour was probably due to the fever, and so wasn’t quite as healthy as it looked. However, he turned to Claudette and said, "Yeah, you’re right, he does look a lot better."

"Here sit down, and stay for a minute." Claudette said obviously pleased that he agreed with her assessment of Dutch’s condition. As she indicated an empty chair beside her she continued, "I can only stay for another hour before I have to get to work, but you don’t have to rush off just yet do you?"

Not feeling comfortable enough to sit down and relax Vic remained standing, and for a second he considered lying, and making good his escape, but then he felt guilty. He thought back to that awful night that had had such an impact on all their lives. Vic remembered sitting on the floor of Dutch’s bedroom. He’d sat next to Dutch and had held one of his ice-cold hands in his own, while waiting for the paramedics, and had silently promised the unconscious man, and himself, that he’d be there for him. He’d promised that he wouldn’t let Dutch face his demons alone again. Now was the time for him to start to live up to that promise. So forcing a small smile on his face he replied, "No…no I don’t have to rush off yet, I can stay for a little while." Then he looked into Claudette’s eyes, and hoped he was communicating his sincerity to her when he continued, "and I’m gonna be here a lot more from now on Claudette, now that…well now that other business has been taken care of. I didn’t…I couldn’t help Dutch that night, but I can sure as hell try and help him now."

Claudette had just opened her mouth to reply when a slight moan from the man in the bed caused both hers and Vic’s attention to focus there.

Vic leant forward as he watched Dutch’s face, feeling both trepidation and a slight thrill of expectation, as he realised Dutch was waking up. Dutch’s head moved slightly from side to side on his pillow, and a tiny frown creased his forehead, as he struggled to emerge from his drugged lethargy. His lips parted, and his breathing quickened and deepened as his eyelashes fluttered, and finally his eyes slid slowly open.

Claudette stood up and leant over the bed, one hand resting on the metal rail that was raised at the side of the bed, and her other hand gently coming to rest over Dutch’s right hand as it lay against his sheets. She smiled, and sought to establish eye contact with Dutch, as she spoke softly, "Well look who’s woken up. How are you feeling son? Thirsty I’ll bet huh, let me get you some water ok?"

When she spoke the sound of her voice must have triggered a sense of recognition in Dutch’s obviously rather drug addled brain, because he smiled up at her.

She straightened up, and turned away, reaching out to retrieve a sealed plastic beaker with a slightly raised section in the lid for drinking out of. It reminded Vic of the trainer cups that his children used to have when they’d first been leaning to drink out of a cup instead of a bottle. Turning his attention from Claudette and back to Dutch he saw that Dutch was entirely focused on her, and at her mention of water his tongue had briefly flicked out over his lips, as if he hadn’t quite realised he was thirsty until she’d mentioned it. He completely ignored Vic, and Vic was pretty sure he was oblivious to his presence.

Claudette turned back to Dutch and leaning forward again she said, "Here you go."

She slipped her left hand under his head, and helped him lift it off the pillow, as she brought the beaker up to his lips. Tilting it gently she let Dutch take a couple of swallows of water before she moved the cup away, and let his head rest on his pillow again.

His voice sounding croaky from disuse Dutch quietly said, "Thanks."

Vic didn’t think he’d ever heard such a wonderful sound before, and he let out a little sigh of relief. More than anything that single word seemed to signal for him the truth that Dutch really was getting better.

Claudette smiled down at Dutch and then she brightly said, "Look who’s come to see you."

She turned to look at Vic, and Dutch turned his head and followed here gaze with his eyes. Vic stepped forward plastering a smile on his face, and wiping his suddenly sweaty hands on the material of his jeans.

Dutch looked at him with glazed, slightly unfocused, eyes a confused expression on his face. Vic widened his smile, and reached out to gently pat Dutch’s hand, saying as he did so, "Hey Dutchboy how’s it going?"

Dutch frowned, the look of puzzlement on his face almost comical, as he narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on Vic. Dutch’s voice also betrayed his confusion when he asked, "Vic?"

Slowly his eyes dropped from Vic’s face, and he looked down to where Vic’s hand had come to rest on his. Then very deliberately Dutch pulled his hand out from underneath Vic’s. The action caused Vic’s stomach to clench, and he pulled his own hand back towards himself, holding it against his chest, clenched into a fist.

Then Claudette spoke, her concern evident in her tone, "What is it Dutch? What’s wrong?"

Then everything began to happen at once, and Vic felt even more of his world come crashing down around his ears.

He looked up into Dutch’s face, and felt sick at the fear he saw there. As much as he could Dutch had pulled himself as far away from Vic as he could get. His eyes were wide, still glazed, but they were focused entirely on Vic’s face. His lips were moving, and just as in that terrible dream Vic had had a couple of nights earlier, he could hear Dutch muttering, "No, no, no, no, no…" over and over again.

Just then an alarm on one of the machines on the other side of Dutch’s bed began to scream shrilly, rapidly followed by another.

Claudette reached out for Dutch as she said,

"It’s alright Dutch it’s Vic…it’s only Vic."

Looking at her, and hearing the anguish in his own voice, Vic told her, "I think that’s the problem."

He began to back away from the bed just as the door burst open and several nurses rushed in. Vic turned, and all but ran from the room having to get away, ignoring Claudette when she called out his name.

Once out of Dutch’s room Vic didn’t stop, he ignored the elevators, not wanting to have to wait for one, and took the stairs. He flew down them two at a time, and left the hospital, and made straight for his car. In no time he was pulling out into the traffic and with no firm destination in mind Vic just drove, trying to put as much distance between himself and the hospital as possible.

Chapter 31.

Vic had driven out along the coastal highway, and had eventually pulled off the road and parked up at a spot overlooking a deserted beach. He gazed out over the calm sea, watching the sunlight dancing over the gentle swell of the waves as they raced towards the shore. He wound down his window and breathed in the salty air, filling his lungs with it, hoping it would help to clear his mind. He desperately needed to think.

God, Dutch had been afraid of him. He’d pulled his hand away from Vic’s, the touch obviously disgusting him. Of course Vic could hardly blame him. He’d been an idiot for letting himself believe Aceveda and Claudette when they’d both assured him that Dutch wouldn’t blame him for what he’d forced on him that night. Vic should have relied on his own judgement over the matter. He’d known, deep down that Dutch could have no opinion other than to see him as a rapist. Vic had wanted Aceveda and Claudette to be right so badly that he’d ignored his own common sense, and now look at what had happened. He’d hurt Dutch again. If he’d been sensible he’d have stayed away, but instead he’d made Dutch have to face him. The poor guy had had to wake up and find himself confronted by the man who’d betrayed him and used him. He’d woken up to find that man touching him. Vic’s stomach rolled as he tried to imagine how awful that must have made Dutch feel.

Then there had been the blaring sound of the alarm on the heart monitor going off and the sudden rush of the nurses as they’d hurried into the room. Christ, for all Vic knew he could’ve caused some physical harm, as well as psychological harm. It was a mess, a complete mess, and it didn’t look like there were going to be any easy solutions. After all if Dutch felt this way about him how could they ever work together again. Dutch wouldn’t be able to stand the sight of him, let alone trust him to watch his back during a bust. If he couldn’t find some way to fix this one of them would have to leave The Barn. Vic knew that by all rights that person should be him as he was the guilty party. What would that mean for the Strike Team, for the way things were run on the streets of Farmington?

Considering the professional repercussions was one thing, Vic wasn’t too sure if he wanted to dwell on the personal repercussions if Dutch hated him now. His feelings for Dutch had been kind of shadowy, and mostly unacknowledged. He’d known they were there, but he’d usually been able to blithely ignore them.

Dutch had always registered on Vic’s radar rather more than most of their other colleagues. It had been the growing respect he’d found for Dutch when he’d witnessed his passion to find Sally’s killer that had forced Vic to finally realize that his feelings for Dutch weren’t entirely only professional.

Vic had always known that he liked men as well as women, and he was completely comfortable with that knowledge. However, his experience with men had mostly been in his late teens and early twenties, before he’d met Corrine. Since he’d been with Corrine he’d only been with women. He smiled a little bitterly at the thought that maybe Corrine would be relieved to know he’d only ever cheated on her with women. Then again maybe not.

While he’d been married there’d been a couple of guys he’d looked at, but never anyone he’d worked with, until Dutch that is. The macho world he inhabited in his job just didn’t cope well with anything that stepped outside of its narrow parameters concerning what was "normal". So while his affair with Danny was considered perfectly acceptable, a relationship with a fellow male officer most certainly wouldn’t be. He’d seen how Julian Lowe had torn himself apart trying to hide his homosexuality from everyone. Until he’d tried to hide it from himself by getting married and trying to conform. Vic felt kind of sad for the guy, because while he himself was bisexual he was pretty sure that Julian wasn’t. Of course orientation was another reason he’d tried to ignore his feelings for Dutch, since he was pretty sure Dutch was straight.

Still something Julian had said to Vic once, concerning his homosexuality, had rung true for Vic concerning his feelings towards Dutch – "I push it down it goes away, but then it comes back stronger." No matter how much Vic pushed his feelings away, and tried to ignore them, every now and then they’d suddenly surface and catch him off guard.

Vic remembered when Dutch finally cracked the Sally case. He remembered walking into the observation room curious to know what everyone was watching, only for Shane to tell him "Sherlock Holmes here is getting smoked." He hadn’t been able to resist sitting down and watching Dutch work. Nor had he been able to keep the smile from his face as he’d listened to Taylor confess, and as he’d noted the mocking tone gone from Shane’s voice as he’d murmured "Jesus Christ." Vic had made sure he’d been amongst the first to offer his congratulations, and to shake Dutch’s hand. Then, of course, there’d been that mess with Ben Gilroy. When, admittedly with an ulterior motive, he’d offered to help Dutch with the case. Vic hadn’t been able to stop himself from feeling gratified at the surprised, but pleased, look on Dutch’s face when he had. He also hadn’t been able to resist touching Dutch’s shoulder as he’d walked behind him, and if his hand had lingered a little too long Dutch hadn’t seemed to notice. However, Vic had noticed and had endeavored to keep his hands to himself after that, in case he got to enjoy the contact a little too much, and began to crave it. Of course then everything in his life had been over-shadowed by first losing his family, and trying to get them back, only to lose them again when he’d had to move out of home and move into that roach infested hotel.

Then Prescott and Tortora had come slamming into their lives, bastards. Vic hadn’t been able to resist Dutch’s offer of a place to stay, and although in one sense he wished he had, in another he was glad he hadn’t. If he hadn’t been there that night Dutch would’ve had to face that ordeal alone, and what would have happened? Either Tortora would have lost control just as he had done, and so Dutch would have been hurt just as badly as he had been. In which case, without Vic there to call an ambulance, he would probably have died from the internal bleeding before anyone wondered why he hadn’t shown up for work, and more than likely, a worried Claudette had gone to his house to find out what was wrong. The thought of Claudette having to walk into that bedroom and find her partner raped and beaten to death made Vic shudder. Even if that hadn’t happened Vic had a strong suspicion that Dutch would never have reported the attack, and would’ve tried to deal with it on his own. What would that have led to, a breakdown, or worse, suicide? Vic didn’t even want to think about that.

However, if he hadn’t been there at least they wouldn’t be in this situation now. At least he wouldn’t be feeling like this. God, Vic wondered would this guilt ever abate? The guilt for not doing anything, for not helping Dutch when he needed it. The guilt for Vic’s feelings of relief, no matter how brief they’d been, that it had all been happening to Dutch and not to him. Then the guilt that up to this point he’d been denying even to himself. The guilt for forcing on Dutch something, that if Vic was truthful with himself, he’d fantasized about a couple of times. Jesus, no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he’d had no choice in what he’d done, it couldn’t detract from that thrill of excitement he’d felt course through him when he’d opened his eyes, and looked down to see Dutch kneeling at his feet giving him a blow job. He’d thought that if he’d pretended it was Corrine and not Dutch it might help him keep control. However, when he’d opened his eyes, and looked down it had been the sight of Dutch there that had been the catalyst which had tipped him over into orgasm. What kind of a person was he? He had feelings for Dutch and yet had orally raped him, and cum while doing it. He could remember Tortora whispering in his ear that night, telling him that Vic looked like the kind of person who liked to take what he wanted. Had that monster seen a kindred spirit in Vic? No, he couldn’t believe that, he might have had the occasional fantasy, but they had never featured any kind of coercion on his part. He might have wanted Dutch, but it had always been consensual.

Then he’d erroneously thought that if he made Prescott and Tortora pay that that would somehow make it all alright. That it would cancel out the wrong he’d done to Dutch. As if anything could ever do that.

With a sigh Vic turned the key in the ignition and turned his car back towards LA. It would probably still be a little while before Dutch got out of hospital and back to work, so Vic still had some time to try and figure out what he was going to do.

*

As he approached Dutch’s house Vic couldn’t prevent the little grimace that crossed his face when he saw Claudette sitting in her parked car outside. He pulled up into the drive, and got out of his car, purposely avoiding looking at her, although hearing a car door slam shut he knew she’d gotten out of her car too. Although he really wanted to hear her tell him that Dutch was ok, he was also afraid that wouldn’t be the news she was bringing him.

Knowing he was being horribly rude, but not caring just as long as it put off this conversation for a few minutes more, Vic didn’t stop to wait for Claudette, but walked up to the front door. He opened it up and went inside, leaving it open for Claudette to follow him.

He’d just taken a long drink from a cold bottle of water he’d gotten from the fridge, when he sensed Claudette’s presence watching him from the kitchen doorway.

"Where have you been?" She asked him.

Typical Claudette Vic thought grimly, no idle conversation just get straight to the point, "Around," he replied and then added, because he felt guilty taking his worries and frustrations out on her, "I went for a drive out to the ocean, I just wanted to clear my head...think for a while."

He finally turned around to find Claudette regarding him coolly as she asked, "Did you come to any startling conclusions?"

"Only that it looks like Dutch isn’t going to be quite as forgiving as you and Aceveda thought he would, and shit who can blame him. I can’t see how we’re going to be able to work together if he can’t trust me can you?" Vic told her, thinking that if she could be straight talking so could he. Although he realised he didn’t sound quite so forthright when he asked her, "How is he? How was he when you left?"

"Asleep, he was pretty upset, agitated, so the doctor sedated him."

"Christ," Vic said wiping a hand down his face, and feeling suddenly very tired. He leant back against a counter top and said, "I knew I should’ve stayed away, but I just wanted to see him, see for myself that he really was getting better…Christ what a selfish bastard."

"It isn’t what you’re thinking Vic, Dutch isn’t mad at you."

"No the poor guy’s scared of me, after what I did to him who can blame him."

Taking a couple of steps further into the room, her eyes never leaving him Claudette told him, "He was scared, but not for the reasons you think."

Not understanding what Claudette meant Vic frowned and asked her, "What are you talking about?"

"He thought you were dead Vic."

"What?" Vic exclaimed.

"After you ran off, and he’d partially calmed down I managed to get it out of him. He thought they’d killed you, and he suddenly wakes up and there you are. The drugs are making him confused at the best of times, I should have thought, told him you were all right, but it just didn’t occur to me. I think he thought you’d come back to haunt him or something." Her voice became more somber as she added, "He said he’d failed you, that he’d tried to play the game, but it hadn’t been enough to save you. He started getting really upset again, and the doctor stepped in and gave him the sedative. I told him you were alive, but I’m not exactly sure if he believed me or not. You have to come back to the hospital and sort this out Vic."

Chapter 32

Dutch sat propped up in his hospital bed staring out of the window, watching a solitary white cloud floating across the otherwise clear blue sky. With a sigh he looked back down at the book he held in his hand. It was open, but turned face down. Claudette had brought it in for him a couple of days ago. It was a murder mystery, and although he was only half way through it he was fairly certain that the victim had been shot by that English guy Edward, who was really his long lost cousin, and so stood to inherit the family millions. Classic murder for greed. He was tempted to flick to the last chapter to see if he was right, but then decided that he didn't really care if he was right or not, so he closed the book, and put it on the table by his bed. He picked up his watch and looked at the time. Another half an hour until afternoon visiting hours. He was bored and lonely, at least when he'd been up in the ICU there had always been someone coming in and out. Inez or Hannah or one of the other nurses, and they'd always had time to talk. Never about anything intrusive, only general stuff, the weather, the Lakers, just ordinary, everyday, normal conversation, and he missed that. Of course for most of the time he'd also been drugged up to the eyeballs so he'd spent a lot of his time either asleep or in a pleasant contented haze, to be honest he kind of missed that too. Not too much ability to think when you can barely remember your own name half the time. Things were different down here on the surgical floor; he was lucky if he saw anyone from one hour to the next. He was much better now, and so he didn't need constant monitoring, and so that seemed to mean he was pretty much left on his own most of the time. It also meant he was on a lot less medication, and so his escape into a drugged oblivion was no longer an option, and he found himself with far too much time to think, and he didn't like to think. Dutch much preferred the world to be superficial these days, he didn't want to look too deeply into things, and he certainly didn't want to look too deeply into himself. So although he looked forward to some company at visiting time, something to keep his mind occupied, something to stop it wandering into memories that he'd really rather not explore, he was always worried about what the topic of conversation would be. Dutch liked nice, safe topics like he'd had with the nurses in the ICU, the news, sports, but things didn't always work out that way. He knew who his visitor was going to be that afternoon, and that knowledge was making him edgy and restless. Vic was coming in and this made Dutch unsettled. It wasn't that he didn't like Vic, in fact quite the opposite, since everything that had happened Dutch had seen a side to Vic that he hadn't known was there. Vic had always been a tough, no nonsense cop, skirting the edge of the rules sometimes but always getting the job done. Of course Dutch had heard certain rumors about some of the things the Strike Team were supposed to get up to, but he'd always taken them with a pinch of salt. Sometimes jealousy of good results could make people try to find fault with someone who was being successful. After all there had been reports in the paper that the team had been involved in stealing drugs, and Dutch had never believed it at the time, and had been proven right when IAD had dropped all the charges. Even Claudette, who had been a little disapproving of Vic at times, seemed to have softened towards him lately, sometimes they even came in together to visit, and seemed to get along with each other much better than Dutch could ever remember seeing before. Dutch had worked with Vic a couple of times, the Taylor case, the Gilroy hit and run and land deal scandal, the murders at the women's refuge. He'd come to respect Vic as a cop during those cases, and had always hoped that the feeling had been mutual. He'd thought it had been, he'd been sure he'd seen a certain something in Vic's eyes sometimes when he looked at him that spoke of respect. Of course Dutch made sure not to look too closely into Vic's eyes now, after all what respect could the guy have for him now? It was one of the things that made Dutch feel so edgy when Vic came to see him; he wasn't sure why he came at all. He honestly expected Vic to hate him, despise him. After what he done, not only the weakness he'd shown, the degrading things he'd allowed to happen, had participated in, but also what he'd forced on Vic himself, he thought that Vic wouldn't want to be in the same room with him again. However, it seemed the opposite was true. He still cringed when he remembered the idiot he'd made of himself the first time he'd seen Vic after he'd woken up in hospital. He'd genuinely been convinced that Vic was dead. So when he'd turned to see who Claudette had brought with her, and had seen Vic standing there, and had looked down and seen his hand on top of his he'd nearly had a heart attack. Jesus, he'd practically become hysterical, and had refused to believe Claudette when she'd assured him Vic was alive and well. After all he'd had drugged nightmares where he'd seen Vic's still, blood covered face over and over again. Claudette had had to drag the poor man into the hospital so he could prove to him that he was still alive. Then he'd really excelled himself by bursting into tears again. Christ Vic must have thought he was a total loony. Of course there were times when Dutch thought the same thing about himself. However, if Vic did think Dutch was a little unstable now he certainly hid it well. There was a kind and considerate side to Vic that Dutch had never seen before, but which had certainly come to the fore lately. He'd tried to get Dutch to talk about what had happened, but when it had been apparent to Vic that that was the last thing Dutch wanted, instead of pushing it, as Dutch had expected him to do, he'd immediately backed off. Dutch was grateful for that, if only everyone was so considerate. Having to give his statement to the two detectives from Westwood had to have been the most humiliating experience of his life. Claudette had offered to be there with him while he did it as support, but as if he'd want her to have to listen to that. Of course he knew that she already knew all the awful details of what had happened, but he really didn't want her to have to hear him recounting his failure. For that was what he felt like, a complete failure as a cop, and a complete failure as a man. He should've been able to defend himself, to stop them. Instead he hadn't even fought back; he'd just lain there and let them do whatever they'd wanted to him. It had been painfully obvious that that had been the opinion of the two investigating detectives as well. Their contempt for him very nearly matching the contempt he felt for himself. He supposed he should be relieved that the two perps were dead, and so after what had been a pretty cursory statement the matter had been closed. The fact that the two men who had completely destroyed his life were dead was something that Dutch still wasn't sure how to feel about. When Captain Aceveda had come into the hospital and told him that they'd killed each other in an argument, all he'd felt had been relief. Now however he wasn't sure what he felt, no doubt it would be something that the department shrink Dr. Reyes would want to "explore" with him. God there wasn't going to be any escape from the whole stinking mess. As much as he wanted to put it behind him, lock it away and not think about it, the more other people wanted to drag it out into the open, and pick it apart one disgusting act after another. Not only the gruesome details of what happened physically, but also how he felt about it at the time, how he felt about it now. On and on and on when all he wanted to do was put it behind him and move on, forget about it. However, apparently he wouldn't be healed until he'd "journeyed through his feelings". What a load of bullshit. How could he "journey through his feelings" when he didn't have any to journey through. Well, Dutch supposed that wasn't strictly true. He knew how he felt about himself, about his weakness and cowardice. He knew how ashamed and humiliated he felt. Those feelings certainly hadn't abated with time, but anything else didn't seem to be there anymore. Dr Reyes kept wanting to "explore" his anger, but try as he might Dutch couldn't find any. Lord knows he'd looked for it, if only to shut Dr Reyes up, but he'd failed to find it. Yet another failure, because he was pretty sure he should be angry. If he was any kind of man he should be furious, but well the fact that he wasn't much of a man had been pretty well proven that night. When he looked inside himself to find this multitude of feelings and emotions that Dr Reyes spoke of, Dutch found nothing. It was like staring into the abyss. There was a hollow emptiness inside him that swallowed up more and more of him everyday, until one day Dutch thought there would be nothing of him left. Although he wasn't sure if that would be a bad thing. If only Vic hadn't been there that night. If only he'd kept his stupid mouth shut in the break room, and let Vic get a bad back on Shane Vendrell's couch. Everything could have been different now. Either he'd be dead right now, so what everyone thought about him, about what had happened wouldn't matter. Or he could've covered it up somehow, then no one would ever of known. He could've kept it all a secret, held it within himself and gotten on with his life. Of course it would also have meant he wouldn't have to face Vic with the knowledge, that this man watched him get raped, that he'd forced oral sex on him, maybe he'd be able to actually look Vic Mackey in the eye. Dutch sighed and thought that too much time on his hands alone was leading to far too much thinking, and he tried desperately to find a neutral subject to mull over. He was considering giving up and trying to get some sleep when a knock on the door announced his visitor.

END PART 32