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Secrets	By : kattanon Category: S through Z > The Shield Views: 974 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Shield, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Secrets Chapter 10.
Vic hadn�t been able to eat his dinner fast enough. He wanted to finish it so he could go over to Holland�s house. He wanted to make sure the kid was all right after what had happened to him that afternoon. He�d made sure Jackson wouldn�t be touching the boy again or even looking at him, if he knew what was good for him. Vic could be very persuasive when he wanted to be. Now if only he could use his persuasive powers on Holland, and get him to seek help. He wondered briefly if Holland�s dad would be at home, and had to admit to feeling some apprehension at the thought of meeting him. However, Vic never backed down from a challenge, and he didn�t want to let this sicko, pervert scare him.
So here he was carrying Holland�s backpack and walking down the wide leafy streets of Oak Ridge. This was a small, select area of town where the very wealthiest families all lived. It hadn�t been difficult to find Holland�s address in the phonebook, as they were the only Wagenbach�s listed. So now he was glancing at the large detached houses that lined this side of Sycamore Street, and looking for number 1622.
Suddenly Vic found himself standing in front of it, and he had to admit it was a nice place. Two story with a driveway that led up to a double garage. An immaculate, and almost too perfectly green, lawn in front of the house was lined on either side by neat privet hedges, which separated the Wagenbach residence from the houses on either side. Across the front, separating the lawn from the pavement, was a row of black metal railings.
Taking a deep breath Vic marched determinedly up the driveway to the front door, and with only a second�s hesitation, he pressed the doorbell. As he waited he found himself fidgeting nervously, and annoyed at himself, he forced himself to stop.
Then the door was pulled open, and Vic found himself face to face with Holland. The kid looked tired, he�d changed his clothes from the ones he�d been wearing earlier, and his hair was damp, and sticking up in messy confusion, suggesting he�d just had a shower. Of course, Vic reasoned, if he�d had Paul Jackson�s slimy hands on him he�d want a shower too. The boy looked surprised to see Vic, and a little apprehensive, before he said,
"Look just leave me alone�I don�t want your help�I don�t need it."
Vic held up one hand defensively replying,
"Hey hold on kid. I just brought you this back."
Then he held up the backpack to show the boy.
"Oh," Holland said, "Um�thanks."
He reached out to take the bag from Vic, and as he handed it over Vic said,
"I couldn�t come in and get a drink could I, only I�m parched?"
Then he flashed Holland what he hoped was a disarming, and innocent smile.
"Um�well�" The boy fumbled for a moment, and Vic thought he was going to say no until, "Oh all right�of course."
Putting the backpack down by the front door Holland stood back, and let Vic step into the hallway.
The house was as neat and tidy on the inside, as it was on the outside, and Vic looked around him as he followed Holland to the kind of kitchen his mom would probably consider killing for.
Although while the house was big, and if the kitchen was any indicatiot wat was furnished with the very best of everything, it also struck Vic as austere. There seemed to be no homely touches like there were at his house. No frivolous ornaments or photos on the walls. It seemed functional and cold. Then remembering the picture he�d seen of Holland�s father, and his cold, hard expression, Vic guessed the house probably suited him. Somehow though he didn�t think it suited his son, and Vic felt sorry for the kid having to grow up in a house where you almost had the urge to tiptoe and the whole atmosphere of the place was slightly stifling.
Holland preceded Vic into the kitchen, and walked over to the fridge opening the door, and looking inside he said,
"We�ve got apple juice or some orange juice if you�d prefer?"
"Oh apple would be fine thanks." Vic replied, quickly going over his well-rehearsed speech one more time in his head.
The younger boy pulled a glass out of a cupboard, and poured out the juice. He put the glass down on the work surface in front of Vic, and quickly pulled his hand back, and took several steps back away from him. Vic had to suppress a wince at the boy�s actions. Here he was wanting to help him, but the kid was behaving as if he was afraid of him. However, considering the events of the last week Vic guessed he couldn�t really blame him.
Vic picked up the glass and took a sip. He could feel the s gas gaze on him. The tension in the room seemed to be mounting, and unable to stand the heavy silence anymore, Vic finally cleared his throat and said,
"I know Holland."
He looked up at the other boy when his words elicited a sound from him like a repressed whimper. Holland looked back at him, for once not looking away, and Vic could see the effort it cost the younger boy to do that. Holland shook his head,
"You�you don�t know anything�you just think you do."
With a sigh Vic said,
"That�s not true Holland. I know he�s hitting you�I know�"
When he�d practiced the words with Shane, and then in front of the mirror, they�d been easier to say. Now however, stood in this house, in front of the pale, slightly trembling object of his worries, and it suddenly wasn�t quite so easy.
Holland shook his head again, and interrupted,
"Don�t." He asked softly.
"It�s not right Holland�you must know that. There are people who�ll help you�the cops�"
Holland frowned back at him, and in a voice that sounded incredibly sad, and lost, he replied,
"He�s my dad."
For a moment Vic was lost for words, unsure of himself. No matter how much he wanted to help this boy he was out of his depth, and he knew it.
Both boys were so caught up in the moment that they both jumped at the sound of the front door slamming shut.
Holland�s eyes locked with Vic�s, and he said,
"Please."
Then a man�s voice called out from the hallway,
"Holland where are you?"
His eyes silently pleading with Vic not to say anything, Holland replied,
"I�m in the kitchen."
A second later the kitchen door opened, and in strode the man Vic had seen in the photograph in the newspaper. In one hand he held Holland�s backpack, which the boy had left by the front door when he�d let Vic in.
"Haven�t I told you about putting your things away boy?" He asked his son, his tone icy.
Holland seemed to shrink away from him, his eyes dropping to the floor as he replied,
"Yes sir."
Holland�s father opened his mouth to continue when Vic put his glass down with a thunk.
Surprised, the man turned and frowned, he hadn�t realised Vic was in the room. However, he quickly recovered and, as Vic watched, his whole attitude began to change. The man relaxed, the pent up rage, that had been plain to see a moment earlier, seeming to disappear, and he plastered an insincere smile on his face,
"Hello," he said. "Who are you?"
Vic glanced from Holland�s father to Holland, and he watched the boy tense in fearful anticipation of what Vic was going to say. What could Vic say? Standing here he could hardly accuse the man of being a pervert with no proof, and to say anything would only mean trouble for Holland. Then there was the fact that Vic was loathed to admit, even to himself. The man was just plain intimidating. His mere physical presence seemed to drop the temperature of the room by several degrees, and Vic actually had to repress a shiver as he turned back to look at him, and said,
"Um�my names Vic I�m a friend of Holland�s from school."
"Oh," Holland�s father replied, glancing from Vic to his son and back again, "Holland didn�t inform me he�d invited a friend over."
"Oh well he didn�t�I was�um just passing, and I thought I�d drop in to say hi." Then suddenly having an idea he added, "And I wanted to invite him to the youth club I attend�we�re looking for new members, and I wondered if Holland might be interested."

Vic thought if he could get Holland to go to Danny�s uncle�s club, perhaps one of the cops there would pick up on something, especially if they had a little gentle prodding in the right direction, and try to help him.
"Oh really." Holland�s father said, "That�s very good of you." Sounding as if he meant the complete opposite. "And what evenings are this club held on?"
"Mondays and Thursdays." Vic replied.
"Ah," Holland�s father said, sounding pleased with himself. "I�m afraid Holland doesn�t socialize on school nights. Do yollaolland?"
"No sir." Holland answered him, his voice quiet.
Turning from his son, and back to Vic, Holland�s father smiled thinly at him, and continued,
"He has school work to attend to on those nights, and actually I�m sure he has plenty to do now. Don�t you son?"
"Yes sir."
"Good�I�m going to my study�Holland see your friend Vic out would you."
"Yes sir."
With that the man turned on his heel, and left the room still carrying Holland�s backpack.
"This way." Holland said, walking over to the kitchen door, and standing back he let Vic walk out in front of him.
Vic felt deflated. He�d had high hopes that he could talk the kid around, but now he realised that as much as he wanted to help, as good as his intentions were, this whole situation was a stinking mess he was ill-equipped to deal with.
Holland opened the front door, and Vic stepped out. He paused and turned back on the doorstep, to face the other boy. Not sure what to say he finally settled on,
"You need help Holland."
The younger boy didn�t reply, but just gazed back at him. His entire aspect was one of trapped defeat, and after a couple of seconds Vic sadly turned away and walked back down the driveway. He could feel Holland�s eyes on his retreating back, but when he reached the pavement and turned back the boy was gone, the front door firmly closed.
Looking up at the house Vic shivered, despite the warm evening air, and he tried very hard not to imagine the things that might go on behind it�s walls.
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Secrets