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Trespass	By : kattanon Category: S through Z > The Shield Views: 2004 -:- 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
- 36
- 37
- 38
Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Trespass Chapter 37

Dutch could feel the whiskey burning it�s way from his mouth all the way to his stomach, leaving him with a false sense of warmth inside. Tipping the glass again he frowned when he found it was empty. He reached out for the bottle, holding it up surprised to see how much he�d already drank. He could feel his brow crease in concentration as he placed the empty glass on the coffee table, and with slow deliberation he poured himself another generous measure. The bottle wavered at the last and a little spilled, running down the side of the glass. Carefully putting the bottle down Dutch reached out with one finger and ran it up the side of the glass, collecting the dribble of whiskey. Waste not, want not, he thought to himself as he put his finger into his mouth, tasting the fiery liquid that was on it. He snorted in derision at himself for being so up tight that even drunk and depressed he still couldn�t bring himself to swig the whiskey straight from the bottle. No he had to keep up appearances and use a glass, like that made getting blind drunk somehow more civilized and acceptable.
Pulling his finger from his mouth he leant his head back against the arm of the couch. He was sitting on the living room floor, his back against the arm of his couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He stared up at the ceiling, watching the flickering light from the muted TV dance across it. The rest of the room was dark, and he tried not to peer into its shadowy corners, afraid of what he might see staring back at him.
Closing his eyes Dutch felt the numbing buzz that encompassed his body. The alcohol making him feel slightly detached from himself. What he wanted though, what he needed, was a way to numb his mind. That thought precipitated a wave of misery that made him squeeze his eyes shut, and tense his whole body in an effort to quash it. Reaching out with a shaking hand he grabbed the glass and brought it to his lips, gulping down half it�s contents, not caring that it made him cough and splutter, a shudder passing through him. He just clung on to the hope that he could drink enough so that he�d be able to claw bhis his detachment.
He�d worked so hard to keep everything inside. He�d welcomed the heavy, black shroud that had stolen into his mind, which smothered his feelings and emotions. He�d clung to it, relied on it, and now that shroud was betraying him. It seemed to be unraveling at the seams, letting a myriad of disjointed memories and overpowering emotions bled into his brain. It was unraveling and so was he. Dutch felt as if he was losing his mind, falling apart, and he was afraid.
He�d had a handle on things until he�d gone back to work. He been convinced that once he went back his life would just magically slot back together. He should�ve known it wouldn�t be that easy. Sometimes when he went out somewhere � the grocery store or the park � he�d imagine that people knew. He felt that he carried a mark somewhere, burnt into his flesh, and that just by looking at him other people, perfect strangers, could see what he was, what he�d done. He thought they could see inside him to the cesspool of filth and corruption he carried where his soul used to be. They could see it, and they whispered about him behind his back. He knew inside that he was being paranoid, but then he�d hear someone laugh and he�d feel a stab of pain go through him at the fear they were laughing at him. How much worse then to be in a place where he knew for sure that every person there knew every detail of that night. They knew what he�d let those men do to him. They knew what he�d done to Vic. He spent hours everyday surrounded by pity and curiosity and sneering contempt.
It took everything in him just to face another day at The Barn. He�d be three blocks away from the place and his palms would begin to sweat, his mouth would go dry, and his blood would roar in his ears. Twice in the past week he�d had to pull over and stumble into an alley to throw up. It was getting harder to maintain the façade. Harder to concentrate on his work. Harder to ignore to subtle, and not so subtle, bullying he was being subjected to. There were a certain number of people who used to be his colleagues who obviously thought he should quit, and Dutch was beginning to wonder if maybe they were right.
Finding his glass empty again Dutch carefully re-filled it. Hurriedly taking a sip from it, this time ignoring the whiskey that sloshed over the rim of the glass, splashing his hand and his shirt.
The memories of that afternoon came unbidden into his mind. The memories that he�d consumed half a bottle of whiskey trying to repress. He�d been working on the computer, chasing down some forensic information for Claudette, when Shane Vendrell and Curtis Lemansky had passed behind him laughing and joking with each other. He didn�t even know what twerewere talking about, although he could guess, but Vendrell had said "�nice and tight, just like I like it." making Lemansky laugh. It had been those words, and that accent, the same Southern twang that he�d heard that night. Those were the exact words that animal had whispered to him when he�d stabbed his finger inside him. Even now the recollection of it caused tears to well up in his eyes. Earlier it had felt like the whole world was crumbling around him.
Vendrell and Lemansky hadn�t even seen him there he was sure, thank God he a sil silently. However, when he�d heard those words spoken in that accent he�d flashed right back to that night. The feelings, sounds, emotions, everything had all flooded into his mind. The terror and disgust and shame had r up up inside him until he�d wanted to scream, feeling he was choking on them. Even now he wasn�t sure how he�d managed to make it to the bathroom. He�d stumbled into a cubicle and had only just remembered to slid the bolt home behind him. Then he�d crammed himself into a corner, sitting on the floor, his body curled in on itself, and he�d clung onto his sanity by a thread.
He wasn�t sure how long he�d stayed there afraid to move, afraid to even open his eyes, but eventually he�d managed to regain a modicum of control over himself. Enough at least that he was able to leave the safety of his locked cubicle and leave The Barn early using a headache as a flimsy excuse. On the drive home he�d clung onto the hope that hbe abe able to pull himself together. Of course, he thought, this probably wasn�t the best place to come. His house wasn�t the refuge it used to be. Instead it was the scene of the horrors he tried so very hard to repress. However, it was here that he�d come automatically, and when a hot shower and a change of clothes, some seemingly endless pacing, and finally some mediocre TV had failed to push his escaping feeling and emotions back into the darkness where they belonged�d t�d tried to find the answer in the bottom of a bottle. Dutch sneered at himself as he thought how predictable he was. Feeling the room beginning to spin when he closed his eyes, forcing him to quickly open them again, Dutch realised it probably hadn�t been the smartest idea he�d ever had.
Just then Dutch�s world became flooded with light. He heard himself groan as he quickly squeezed his eyes shut as the light lanced into his head, making his eyes water.
"Shit." He muttered.
Finally taking the chance he managed to peel back his eyelids enough to squint up at the blurry figure that stood by the living room door. As his eyes adjusted to the light level the blur finally coalesced into the disapproving figure of Vic. Dutch stared up at his tight-lipped, annoyed face for a moment before sighing and turning his attention back to his glass. Half a mouthful finished it off and he reached out for the bottle as Vic�s voice finally said,
"Don�t you think you�ve had enough?"
"Nope." Dutch replied concentrating on the bottle in his hand.
Tipping the bottle Dutch purposefully filled the glass nearly to the rim, just to piss Vic off.
Dutch could feel his resentment for the other man rising within him. Part of the problems he was facing at The Barn were Vic�s fault. Dutch knew that Vic had stepped in, telling people that they should leave him alone or else. All that had done was make things worse; some of the filthy things that had been said to him about his relationship with Vic made his stomach turn. Christ, why hadn�t Vic just kept out of it, let him fight his own battles. Instead he�d made Dutch feel weak, like he couldn�t look after himself. He tried to ignore the insidious voice in his head that whispered that he was weak, because if he hadn�t been he�d have been able to stop those men before they�d� He clamped down on that thought and grabbed onto the only other feeling he had � resentment. Resentment of Vic. He clutched it to himself like a lifeline, feeling it boiling up inside him, and he basked in the flare of vicious hatred he felt. Usually he smothered these negative feelings, but this time he felt a twisted pleasure in reaching out and embracing them instead. His negative emotions usually had no outlet, but this time his outlet for them had just taken several steps into the room and was asking him a question.
"What�s wrong�are you okay? Has something happened to upset you?" Vic asked concerned.
Dutch heard Vic�s concern and felt a slight twinge of guilt at the spiteful feelings he had. However, he quickly buried it and let his bitterness wash over him as he replied,
"Oh what could possibly be wrong? Everything�s just�peachy."
Vic paused for a moment before saying,
"But I thought�you�re back at work now�just desk duty I know, but it�s a start right?"
Vic tried to smile encouragingly at him.
Dutch blinked up at him and could feel the sneer on his lips as he looked at Vic�s face. A gamut of emotions, none of them good, rushed through him. Repressed resentment, fear and loathing howled for release. Words clamored to be spoken, they flooded into his head and Dutch just couldn�t stop himself, even if he�d wanted too. He briefly remembered the saying "let someone have it with both barrels" and that was exactly what he proceeded to do. He lost himself in the moment and finally let some of his pain loose.
"Oh yeah, my life�s fucking great�just perfect. Everyone I work with knows I got fucked up the ass by two sicko�s and that I gave you a blowjob." Dutch�s mind vaguely registered the shocked expression on Vic�s face, but he couldn�t stop himself. "Some of them look at me with such contempt. They think if it had been them they�d have fought them off�done�something. They probably think it�s not even the first time I�ve taken it up the ass so what am I moaning about? I�m just a whining bitch who wasn�t man enough to stop it happening and I got what I deserved. Little fag probably enjoyed it huh? Or there�s the pity. People like Danny who look at me like I�m broken�like I�ll never be normal again. All the time they�re just waiting for me to fall apart so they can shake their heads and say how sad it is�like they really give a shit�But the best ones are the guys who think it�s funny�a big fucking joke. Dutchboy finally got what he deserved�doesn�t think he�s so smart now huh? It�s hilarious to put gay porn magazines in my locker, used condoms in my desk...and the things...the things they say...bastards.
Dutch had to stop his voice breaking on the last words, angry tespilspilling over from his eyes. He banged his glass down on the table and pulled his knees up to his chest, the heel of his hand angrily wiping at the wetness on his cheeks.
"Jesus Dutch." Vic breathed. "Why didn�t you tell me? I could�ve�"
Dutch interrupted him looking up into Vic�s sad, concerned face, but the alcohol was colouring his perceptions so that all he saw was pity and contempt. He felt his resentment for Vic flaring again,
"Why�why tell you Vic? So you can fight my battles for me�ride to my rescue? Don�t think I don�t know how you�ve been threatening people�telling them they�d better leave me alone�Jesus did you think you were doing me a favour�helping me somehow? All you�ve done is made it worse�If you knew the things�the things they say. Half the Department thinks I�m your bitch�that you�re marking your territory�Christ Vic why don�t you just come into the squad room and piss on me�it�d be easier." Looking up at Vic�s shocked face Dutch continued. "What�for once you�ve got nothing to say Vic?"
Vic stared at him for a moment before turning away. Dutch had to strain to hear his hushed voice,
"I don�t want to say something I�ll regret later, I don�t want to lose my temper�let you push me away."
Dutch felt a little glimmer of regret, a touch of guilt, at he� he�d spoken to Vic, but he was spinning out of control and just couldn�t seem to be able to stop himself,
"Oh why not say what you think Vic? Everyone else has had their say. Doctors, psychiatrists, Claudette, Aceveda�the fucking list is endless�so why not you too?"
Dutch could hear the barely suppressed emotion in Vic�s voice when he replied,
&qu jus just think sitting in the dark wallowing in self pity and drinking yourself unconscious isn�t doing you any good."
"Oh you don�t do you�well screw you Vic," Dutch laughed bitterly before adding, "and if you listen to half the gossip I already am�If I wanna wallow in a little self pity then I will�I think I�ve earned the right too don�t you? And if I wanna get drunk I�ll do that too. It�s none of your Goddamn business." Staring up at Vic he added. "Just why do you care anyway? You never gave a shit about me before. I was just a joke�a loser, not a h, mh, macho, ass-kicking cop like you and your team. So what is it Vic? Guilt�pity?"
Dutch could hear his voice getting louder, he knew he was shouting at the other man, but couldn�t stop himself even when he could see Vic flinching back from his verbal onslaught.
Dutch could see the shock on Vic�s face, he could see it vying with anger. He briefly wondered if he pushed Vic a little more if he�d punch him, and Dutch wondered if maybe that was what he wanted, if it might make him feel better. However, as he watched Vic quickly reined his feelings in, Dutch could see the effort it took him to do it. He watched impassively, suddenly feeling drained, as Vic walked to the living room door, only pausing to say,
"I think I need some air."
Dutch leant his head back on the arm of the couch again and winced when he heard the front door slam and the tyres of Vic�s car squeal as he pulled away too quickly.
He sighed feeling tired, drunk and mean. He�d used Vic as his punching bag, taking his fear and pain out on him. He�d apologize tomorrow he thought. Well he�d probably have to do some serious crawling, but he deserved it.
Dutch looked at the bottle and glass on the table, and felt his stomach roll at the thought of anymore alcohol. Pulling himself up on his unsteady legs Dutch paused long enough witcwitch off the TV and then slowly, and carefully, climbed the stairs.
He felt so tired that his mind was actually blissfully blank when Dutch pushed open the door to his bedroom, and flicking on the light he stepped inside. The flashback when it came took him off guard.
That voice again "�nice and tight�just like I like it." The terror and panic. The shame, the loss of control, feeling powerless. Feeling those hands on him, touching, pinching, scratching, and then the feeling of being ripped apart as he was violated.
He felt so dirty. He could feel that touch on his body. He could feel the blood and semen running out of him, he needed to get clean.
Dutch stumbled to the bathroom feeling dizzy and sick. He switched on the shower, his only thought being that he desperately wanted to be clean again.
- 36
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- 38
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Trespass