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Day	By : kattanon Category: S through Z > The Shield Views: 1310 -:- 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.

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Disclaimer: -I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Day � Chapter 2.
Dutch stood in the doorway, his gaze fixed at some point over Claudette�s left shoulder, and then he dropped his eyes down to study the floor. Claudette sighed quietly; Dutch never looked anyone in the eye anymore. His gaze always skittering away nervously to study the wall or, more usually the floor.
"Thanks." He said quietly.
Knowing that he wouldn�t be saying anything more Claudette moved forward a couple of steps to help him with his bags, but stopped herself when she saw Dutch tense at her approach. She silently cursed herself for being so stupid. This was what she found the hardest thing about the new Dutch that had emerged as the doctors had stepped down his medication. It was as if he had built an invisible barrier around himself, an impenetrable wall that was there to keep the rest of the world out. While he�d been unconscious she�d spent hours sitting beside him holding his hand engaged in a one sided conversation. Talking to him about everything and anything, trying to let him know she was there. She�d rubbed his arm and smoothed back his hair, mumbling nonsense to him, when he�d been gripped by fierce nightmares. Then suddenly all the physical contact had been taken away, and she had to admit she�d missed it. Although at the time Claudette hadn�t realised it, but the feel of his warm, very much still alive, hand in hers had been as much of a comfort to her as she hoped it had been to Dutch.
She looked at him, studying him for a moment. He was thinner than he used to be. He had always been slim but the seven days spent held prisoner with no food had meant he�d lost weight he really hadn�t had there to lose. Although the hospital had done a good job getting him to eat, giving him high calorie drinks in an effort to build him back up, there was still a gauntness about his face that hadn�t been there before, and she hoped it was only a temporary condition. Most of all though Dutch just looked uncomfortable. He always looked that way now, he always looked as if he was uncomfortable in his own skin.
It was time to leave and Claudette pulled her mind back to the here and now. This was after all the day she had spent weeks praying would happen; this was the day she�d been waiting for. Finally Dutch had been judged physically well enough to leave the hospital. Although his discharge was conditional upon his continuing with his daily counseling sessions with the police department psychiatrist. However, despite this being what she�d wanted she found herself wishing she could just lead Dutch back to his room, unpack his bags and put him back into his bed. She was worried that while he may be physically able to take care of himself, mentally, well that was a whole different story. It might not be so bad if he�d taken her up on her offer, which she�d made a few days before, to stay with her for at least a couple of weeks. However, he wouldn�t hear of it and had just told her in his quiet voice, while studying his hands that, "You�ve done enough Claudette and�and I want to go home."

So now that was exactly what he was going to do. Trying to sound enthusiastic she said,
"Are you ready to go?"
"Yes."
Do you want some help carrying anything?" She asked.
"No."
Sighing, realizing that Dutch was obviously feeling particularly mono-syllabic today, Claudette indicated the door and said,
"Come on then, let�s get you home son."
Dutch stepped back out of the waiting room door, and quietly waited for Claudette to join him in the corridor. Then he stayed a couple of steps behind her a she led him out to the parking garage where her car was. Claudette watched him put his bags in the trunk, and get into the passenger seat before she climbed in next to him. Deciding to give it one last try, hoping that the reality of leaving the safe confines of the hospital would change his mind, Claudette turned to him and asked,
"Are you sure you won�t change your mind Dutch, come home with me?"
"No it�s ok�I want to go home." Dutch told her while staring out of the window.
"Alright son." She sighed.
Claudette could feel her tension increasing the further away from the hospital, and the closer to Dutch�s house, that they got. She glanced across at Dutch sitting in the seat next to her. He kept his eyes steadfastly fixed on the view passing by his window, although how much he was actually seeing of it she wasn�t sure. He was hunched as far away from her as he could get, pressed up against car door, partially turned away from her. Sensing some movement, in the otherwise still man, she glanced down and saw him repeatedly clenching and unclenching his fists. His body language doing nothing to reassure her that this was a wise move.
Finding the silence a little unnerving Claudette tried desperately to think of something to say some meaningless small talk to fill up the heavy silence. However, knowing that Dutch would probably either just ignore her efforts, or continue in his one word answers, she merely pursed her lips and concentrated on the road. Of course she mused if she pushed the point there was always the possibility that she�d be treated to a rare show of Dutch�s temper. While, on the whole, he had become quiet and withdrawn after what had happened to him, he sometimes flared up. It had only happened on a few occasions over the past month or so, but wow when he lost it he really lost it. It usually seemed to occur when he felt someone was pushing him too much. Claudette thought that Dutch was using his temper as a kind of defense mechanism. When he felt himself being pushed into a corner he lashed out. He�d shout, swear and had been known to throw whatever was handy at the time, books, magazines, his lunch. Strangely it was these bursts of temper which gave Claudette the most hope that the old Dutch was still buried inside of him. He�d never been a bad-tempered person, if anything Claudette had always thought Dutch had tended to bottle things up too much, but she�d seen him lose his temper a couple of times and the episodes in the hospital, the intensity in him when they�d occurred, had reminded her of those times. It was a facet of his old personality that was still there and, Claudette reasoned, if that was still there then maybe there was more just needing a little more time to emerge.
So after a silent twenty minutes they were pulling into his driveway. She�d stopped the car and climbed out before she realised that Dutch hadn�t moved. Bending down and looking back into the car she saw him sitting unmoving looking at his house, the expression on his face difficult to read.
"Are you alright?" She asked him.
He turned and glanced in her direction, before looking back at the house and telling her.
"Yes�yes�it�s just�well I never thought I�d be here again."
Claudette felt her heart clench at those words. Jesus, how she wished she could have five minutes alone with Collins. Make him pay for the pain and suffering that he�d inflicted on Dutch. Make him pay for the emotional damage he�d caused to her partner and friend. Focusing once more on Dutch she gently asked him,
"Are you sure about this Dutch? My offer still stands you know, you can stay with me for a while. Just a few days if you want, just until you get used to being out of the hospital."
Dutch took a deep breath and reached over undoing his seatbelt before replying,
"No�no it�s ok Claudette. I want to do this�I need to do this."
"Alright�well you�ve got your keys, do you want to go up and unlock the door while I get your bags?"
Dutch nodded and Claudette watched him get out of the car and walk slowly up to the front door. He slipped the key into the lock and, seeming to hesitate before turning the key, opened the door. She watched him pause and then finally enter the house. Taking her time she collected his bags from the trunk, and followed him into the house. She�d wanted to give him the space of a few minutes by himself, and now she found him standing up in the middle of his living room with silent tears rolling down his face.
"I�I�I never thought I�d get home�I begged him to let me come home."
Claudette bit her lip to suppress her own tears at Dutch�s reaction, at the pain in his voice.
"You were strong Dutch�you survived�and�and we never gave up looking for you�I never gave up."
For a rare second he actually looked up and looked Claudette in the eye. It just lasted a moment before he quickly looked down at the floor again, but it had been the first time he�d done it since he�d regained consciousness, and Claudette felt a burst of hope pass through her.
"Come on shall we take your bags upstairs?" She asked him.
He nodded and allowed her to lead the way up the stairs. However, when she turned towards his bedroom his quiet voice said,
"No."
Stopping she turned back to find him still standing at the top of the stairs. She was confused for a moment, and glanced from Dutch to the open bedroom door. Everything was ready in there for him, she�d cleaned it up, made sure all the mess had been tided up and the bloody handprint had been washed off the wall. Dutch said in a hesitant voice,
"Not yet�I can�t�I�ll sleep in the guestroom."
Smiling reassuringly at him Claudette said,
"Of course, if that�s what you want."
Retracing her steps she took his bags into the spare bedroom and placed them on the bed. Turning to see Dutch hovering in the doorway she asked him,
"Do you want me to help you unpack?"
He hesitated, and then flushed a little with embarrassment when he said,
"No�I�ah�I want to be on my own. Thanks for�for everything Claudette, but I�d like you to go now."
Surprised Claudette frowned,
"I don�t know Dutch�I thought I�d help you settle in."
Shaking his head, a note of determination in hoiceoice Dutch told her,
"No�thanks I can manage. Goodbye Claudette."
Hesitating for a moment, but realizing that maybe Dutch needed this, needed to begin to re-take control of his life, she nodded and moved past him. Pausing she said,
"Ok, I�ll let myself out, but Dutch if you need anything just call alright?"
"Ok."
"I�ll be by tomorrow at nine to pick you up for your appointment with Dr. Alexander."
"Ok."
Noticing the tension in his body and the return to the single word answers, Claudette realised it was time for her to leave. So turning and going down the stairs she merely paused at the bottom and called up a goodbye before she left.
Once back in her car she sat for a minute to look back at the house. Worry for Dutch nagging away at her mind. God, she hoped he�d be all right there on his own. She had to resist the urge to go back and grab him, and drag him home with her; at least then she�d know he was safe. Sighing she started her car and backed it out of Dutch�s drive. She had to stop trying to coddle him, he had to stand on his own two feet, and find his place back in the world again. He had to start picking up the pieces of his life if he was ever to return to some form of normality, return to work even. She missed her partner after all. He�d be fine she reassured herself as she drove away. All the while she ignored that little voice in her head that asked, "Yeah, and what if he isn�t fine?"

Back in the quiet, still house Dutch stood against the wall at the top of the stairs unmoving after Claudette had left. Finally he slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, pulled his legs up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and buried his face in his knees, and gently began to rock backwards and forwards.
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