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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
- 37
- 38
- 39
Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Author�s Note: - I apologise to those of you who have been waiting so patiently for this chapter. I�m afraid real life has been somewhat unkind of late, and although I�ve written a few pieces in another fandom I haven�t been writing much at all, and certainly nothing that has the emotional investment that I�ve made in Trespass. However, I�m hoping to be getting back to doing the things I enjoy once more, and that includes writing this story. So once again I�m sorry for the long wait, but I hope normal service will now be resumed � so on to what you really want�

Trespass Chapter 38
Vic sat in a booth as far in the back of the smoky bar as he could get. Hunched over his beer, the tension evident in every line of his body, none of the bar�s other patrons went near him, which suited Vic just fine. He wanted to be alone with his thoughts, he needed to figure out what had gone so catastrophically wrong when he�d only been trying to help Dutch, and how he was going to fix it.
Slowly peeling the label from the beer bottle, and then tearing it up into tiny strips, Vic went over the events of that night in his mind. After a long, frustrating, day chasing false leads, and then having to crack a few skulls, just to get the message across that he didn�t appreciate being jerked around, Vic had assumed Dutch was already in bed when he�d first gotten home, and seen the house in darkness. However, the second he�d opened the front door the smell of whiskey had hit him. The house had smelt like a distillery, and Vic had immediately known things were not good. The flicking light that was coming from the, otherwise dark, living room led him to stand in the doorway, and he�d seen Dutch sitting on the floor, a glass in his hand. When he�d flicked on the light, and seen the half empty bottle on the table, Vic had felt annoyance warring with his concern. Jesus, he�d thought Dutch had more sense. Dutch�s ex-wife had been a drunk after all, and Vic would�ve thought alcohol would be the last place Dutch would try to find solace.
Vic remembered the way Dutch had squinted up at him, his eyes slightly blood-shot, and refusing to focus properly. He hadn�t seen a lot of Dutch over the past week or so. A flood of badly cut Colombian coke on the streets meaning too many dead party-people for Aceveda�s taste, so he�d had the Captain breathing down his neck for results, and Tio whining about lost trade, and falling profits. However, sitting on the floor, gulping down whiskey, Dutch had sure looked worse than the last time Vic had seen him. He�d looked pale and tired, dark circles visible under his eyes, but worse than that he�d looked defeated, smaller somehow, as if he was slowly sinking in on himself.
Dutch�s appearance had set off alarm bells in Vic�s head immediately, and wanting to help he�d asked Dutch what was wrong. The bitterness in Dutch�s tone when he�d replied, "Oh, what could possibly be wrong? Everything�s just�peachy." should�ve warned Vic that something was brewing inside the other man, but he�d been so intent on getting to the bottom of what was going on, that he�d ignored the internal warning to back off. He�d tried to jolly Dutch along; Vic winced and took a sip of his now lukewarm beer, as he remembered what a spectacularly bad move that had been.
Dutch�s voice had been filled with such searing contempt, as he�d finally released some of what he�d been feeling; yet keeping locked away inside of himself. The alcohol had broken down the barriers that Dutch had erected around himself, there to keep his emotions tightly reined in, and to keep everyone around him at arm�s length. Vic had known this was lurking, boiling away, under the calm surface that Dutch was so skilled at showing the rest of the world. However, the tone of self-loathing that was evident as Dutch spoke had worried Vic. If Dutch wanted to vent his anger that was fine with Vic, it was more healthy than the way he�d been pretending everything was fine, and if Dutch wanted to use him as his emotional punching bag, well that was fine with Vic too. In fact, Vic welcomed it, and considered himself the best person for the job. What they�d gone through together had bound them together in a way Vic didn�t think other people would be able to understand, hell he wasn�t sure he understood it himself. They�d shared something terrible, and it had fundamentally changed them both. Neither of them were the same person they had been before that night, and no matter how much Vic sometimes wished he could be, and no matter how much Dutch pretended he was, the truth was they were different now, and they could never go back to what been before.
Dutch�s tears, which had seemed to Vic to be a combination of anger, sadness and frustration had made Vic�s heart clench in his chest. He�d had to fight to urge to go to him, wanting to offer some comfort. However, this time he�d had the sense to listen to his inner warning voice. With the mood Dutch had been in going anywhere near him would�ve been the worst thing he could�ve done. So instead he�d stayed still, watching Dutch, and feeling impotent, completely unable to stop the younger man�s pain. It had been a familiar feeling, and one Vic hated.
Leaning back against the stained fabric of the seat, Vic closed his eyes for a moment. Anger bubbled up within him as he remembered the way Dutch�s voice had broken as he�d told Vic about the bullying that he was being subjected to. Vic thought he�d taken care of that when he�d confronted that asshole Koenig, and his cronies, in the locker room. Well, obviously not, maybe it was time to have a little chat with Officer Koenig, and see what he knew about what was going on, and who was behind it. Remembering what Dutch had told him, how people were insinuating things about his relationship with Vic, and that he didn�t want Vic butting in, Vic briefly wondered if maybe he should leave things alone. Sitting up again he smiled coldly to himself -- as if that was gonna happen. He�d just have to be more forceful about getting his point across this time, and more careful about Dutch not finding out. He kind of relished the idea actually, knocking a couple of bigoted assholes heads together would be his way of blowing off some steam, almost therapeutic in it�s own way. Dutch had managed to push a lot of Vic�s buttons, and he certainly had some aggression to burn off, one way or another. Dutch had been pushing him and pushing him, almost as if he�d wanted to provoke Vic. Vic frowned at that thought, was Dutch hoping to piss him off enough that he�d lose his temper? If so what did he hope to gain? Puzzled Vic pondered that question for a while before an uncomfortable thought crossed his mind. Maybe Dutch wanted him to lose his temper, maybe he wanted him to lose it so badly that he�d lash out. Was that what Dutch wanted? Did he want Vic to hit him? Did he feel he deserved it somehow, that he needed to be punished? Okay, Vic was starting to realise that maybe Dutch was unraveling faster, and more catastrophically, than he�d thought.
Of all the things that Dutch had said though the ones that had hurt Vic the most, the ones that had cooled his temper, had been, "Just why do you care anyway? You never gave a shit about me before�So what is it Vic? Guilt�pity?" Dutch had shouted those words at him, and he�d felt them being hurled at him like a physical assault. Trust Dutch to be able to use words as a weapon, to be able to wound Vic more effectively with a couple of sentences then anyone had ever been able to do with a fist. If only Dutch knew. If only he knew how much Vic cared, and how long he�d been watching him. If only he knew how long Vic had been hyper-aware of everything he did, everything he said. If only he knew how much his presence burned in Vic�s soul. Yeah, Vic snorted to himself, if he knew the poor guy would probably run a mile.
Tipping back his head and swallowing the last of his warm beer, Vic spared a glance around the dark and smoky bar. Fuck why didn�t he just pick up some cheap whore who he could have for the price of a couple of drinks, Christ knows there were plenty of candidates in the bar right now. Shaking his head though he admitted defeat. He didn�t want a meaningless fuck. He didn�t want a cheap whore. Hell, he didn�t want a woman. He wanted what he couldn�t have. He wanted Dutch.
- 37
- 38
- 39
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Trespass