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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 3.
Sitting in the waiting room outside Dr. Alexander�s office Dutch gazed down at his hands, watching as his right hand nervously fiddled with the hem of his left sleeve, picking at a non-existent loose thread. With an effort he willed his hand to stop, and to make sure he didstarstart the nervous fiddling again, he clasped his hands together, and letting out a long, low breath, leaned back in the chair, feigning relaxation. He stared at the picture of Van Gogh�s "Sunflowers" on the wall opposite, and tried to pretend he couldn�t feel the eyes of the receptionist on him. It was actually a huge effort to keep still. He wanted to shuffle his feet, his right knee wanted to bounce up and down, his hands were sweating, and he had to resist the urge to wipe them on his thighs. Most of all he�d of liked to get up and pace, try to walk off a little of the nervous energy he could feel building up within himself. However, he forced himself to keep still, he didn�t want to look jittery. He didn�t want Dr. Alexander thinking he was un-hinged, even if that was exactly how he felt, as if he could fly apart at any moment.
It wasn�t as if this was the first time he�d met Dr. Alexander after all, he�d been seeing him daily at the hospital for nearly two weeks now. This was the first time Dutch had been to his office though. He was relieved the Claudette hadn�t volunteered to wait with him. It wasn�t that he didn�t appreciate everything she�d done for him. He knew how worried she�d been when he�d been missing, how hard she�d worked to find him. He also knew the long hours she�d spent sitting beside him while he�d been unconscious, and the time she�d spent sitting quietly next to him when he�d regained consciousness, and had just tried to blot out the world, withdrawing into himself. He was grateful to her for all those things, but he just couldn�t stand her concern. He could see the worry that was nagging away at her behind her eyes every time she looked at him, and he hated the thought that he�d put it there.
He started slightly, and chided himself for showing a reaction, when the receptionist said,
"Dr. Alexander�s ready for you now Detective Wagenbach."
"Thanks." He replied.
He stood up and walked over to the heavy wooden door by the receptionist�s desk, which had a shiny brass name plate with the doctors name on it, followed by an impressive collection of letters, each no doubt representing some professional qualification or another. After only a slight hesitation, and successfully resisting the urge to turn on his heel and run as fast as he could, Dutch raised his hand and knocked on the door. Without waiting he opened it and stepped into the office beyond.
After closing the door behind him he stopped, standing just inside the office, feeling suddenly unsure about what to do next.
"Ah, Dutch come in and sit down." Dr. Alexander said, indicating the chair in front of his desk.
Dutch smiled tightly at him, and moved to the chair he�d indicated and sat down. Glancing down at the doctor�s he he saw a green folder with his name written on it, "Detective Holland Wagenbach", except "Holland" had been crossed out and "Dutch" written above it. He remembered the first time Dr. Alexander had come to see him at the hospital. He�d called him Holland, and had had to duck when he�d had a book flung at his head, and been told "Never, never call me that!" God knows Dutch had never been overly fond of his Christian name, who would be, but after those seven day�s hearing that loathsome voice calling him "Holland", he never wanted to hear it again.
"And how are you this morning Dutch?"
"Fine thanks." Dutch replied, still staring at the top of the desk, and fighting the urge to fidget.
"Good�So you went home yesterday. How was that?"
"Fine�um good."
"No problems returning home�to the scene of your abduction?" The doctor asked.
Dutch looked down at his feet and chewed his lower lip as he considered his answer. He could imagine the man on the other side of the desk, sitting with his pen poised over his notebook, waiting to write down his words. Waiting to judge what he said, waiting to judge him. He could lie, tell him everything had been great. He�d had a great night, kicked back with a few beers, watched some TV, relaxed, and went to bed for a restful nights p. p. However, considering he was a terrible liar, he couldn�t drink alcohol with the medication he was taking, and he knew the doctor wouldn�t buy it for a second, he decided it probably wasn�t a good idea. So maybe he should tell the truth. He�d spent an hour huddled at the top of his stairs rocking himself after Claudette had left. If he tried to go near his old bedroom he felt physically sick. He spent most of the time pretending to watch TV, while not really taking in anything that had been on the screen. He�d jumped at every noise, every creaking floorboard, and he kept seeing shadows moving out of the corner of his eye. Then when he�d gone to bed in the guestroom, he�d had to leave every light in the house switched on. Also he�d had to check every door and window lock, and the newly installed alarm system at least ten ti Th Then he�d lain in bed, and had pulled the covers up over his head, and sobbed, because he was such a fucking head-case. Deciding that if he ever wanted to be declared mentally fit enough to return to work, that that version of events might not do his case a lot of good, he shrugged and mumbled out,
"Well you know it was fine ah�it wasn�t easy. I�um I�m sleeping in the guestroom for now. It was good to be out of the hospital though�to have some space�some privacy."
"Claudette didn�t stay with you? I know she was going to pick you up and drive you home."
"Um...no I asked her to go. I just wanted to be on my own for a while�you know."
"How did you find that?"
"Find what?" Dutch asked.
"Being on your own�How did it make you feel?"
"Um�it was good�it was fine."
"That�s a lot of "fines" Dutch." The doctor said his voice sounding slightly amused.
Dutch quickly glanced up at him, before looking away, and squirming uncomfortably in his seat. Jesus, he hated being watched all the time. He could feel himself flush slightly at the doctor�s words and replied,
"Yeah well you know it�s true�I�m feeling much better�much calmer. It�s good to be home and ah�I think I�m getting my life back together again�don�t you?"
"You�re doing really well Dutch, that�s true." The doctor assured him.
"Good�so I can go back to work soon�just�you know�um desk duty or something, but if I�m doing well." Dutch tried, and knew he�d failed, to keep a note of desperation from entering his voice as he spoke.
God, he just wanted to get his life back. He wanted to be normal again. He suddenly realised he�d begun to fiddle with his sleeve again, and guiltily dropped his hand into his lap, mentally cursing himself for his lapse.
A slight pause, and then Dr. Alexander�s calm voice,
"I think it�s a little early for that yet Dutch, But don�t worry we�ll get there. Now how are you finding your medication?"
Dutch had to resist the urge to say "fine", and replied,
"They�re good�um they�re working well."
"You must remember to take them Dutch, it�s important."
"Of course�I know that." Dutch told him, repressing the little flare of annoyance that rose up inside himself at being told what to do.
"You�re taking an MAOI, Phenelzine, for your depression and anxiety, that�s right isn�t it?"
Dutch hated admitting to taking these things; it made him feel like a nutcase,
"Yeah that�s right." He mumbled.
He could hear the doctor rifling through his notes.
"Well you must take them regularly, and your sleeping pills too. You�re looking a little tired this morning, didn�t you sleep well?"
Knowing he�d been caught out, and deciding it was too late to lie, Dutch admitted,
"I didn�t take them last night, but I will from now on, I promise�I just wanted to see how it would be without them, that�s all."
"I understand that you want to deal with this, put it behind you, anve ove on Dutch, but there are steps that have to be followed. It�ll take time, but I�m confident we�ll get there, ok?"
Nodding Dutch sighed,
"I know�I know, it�s just�" Here his voice petered out as he found it difficult to articulate his feelings.
"It�s alright Dutch, I understand, it�s hard." Dr. Alexander told him in his best professionally reassuring voice.
Dutch bit the inside of his cheek, feeling his teeth dig into the soft flesh there, he needed to focus on the pain to stop himself from jumping up from his chair, and screaming at the smug manthe the other side of the desk,

"You understand�how can you understand? Have you ever been held prisoner by a sadistic fucking madman, had your entire life ripped apart, destroyed? Been treated like something less than human, used for his pleasure, made to feel totally fucking worthless!"

Instead he regained control, and just nodded at the doctor�s platitudes.

"Well I think that�ll be all for today Dutch, I just wanted to make sure the transition from the hospital to home was going well. I�ll see you tomorrow, at the same time, and we�ll get down to working through some issues, ok?"
Relived that he could leave Dutch quickly stood up, and glanced up at the doctor saying,
"Um�yeah that�s fine. Thanks�I�ll see you tomorrow."
Then, with a level of self-control he was rather proud of, he managed to walk to the door instead of running.
He�d just stepped out of the office, closing the door behind himself, when a familiar voice drawled,
"Hi Dutchboy, how�s it going?"
Surprised Dutch looked up to see Vic Mackey sitting in one of the waiting roomirs irs with a copy of "Good Housekeeping" open on his lap.
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