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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.

Chapter List
- 6
- 7
Disclaimer: - I don�t own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Day Chapter 7.
He couldn�t move. As hard as he tried he was held fast. He felt groggy, confused, his eyes were open, but he was surrounded by a deep, impenetrable darkness. As his mind began to slowly clear recognition began to echo through him, and his confusion turned to terror.
He was tied down, the rough hemp of the ropes cutting into the thin flesh of his wrists and ankles. Bent over at the waist his chest and face rested against something cold and hard�a table. Goose flesh covered his body as he realised he was naked.
Memories flooded his mind. One horrific torture after another played itself out in his head as his panic mounted. He could hear his breathing becoming faster, harsher, as his struggles to free himself became steadily more desperate.
One part of his mind registered the pain as the ropes cut into skin that had only been healed for a month or so, but the fear was so overwhelming that he ignored it, and fought frantically to escape.
He couldn�t let this happen again. He couldn�t go through it again, the pain, the humiliation, the violation of his body and soul. He would rather die. He�d barely survived the last time, this time he knew he�d go mad.
Then something, some primal sixth sense, told him that he wasn�t alone any more. He froze, holding his breath, every sense reaching out into the darkness trying to pinpoint the danger. Then he heard it, a whisper from the surrounding night. A voice that sent tremors through his body, a word he hated,
"Holland."
The whimper that escaped his mouth rapidly mutated into a sob as he pulled against his restraints. A disembodied chuckle sounded from behind him, and he felt tears running down his face.
The touch of the icy cold hand as it was possessively laid against his backside shocked him and he drew in a deep breath and held it. His body suddenly still, except for the involuntary trembling that shook him from head to toe.
Then he felt the naked body of the other man pressed against him. The ice-cold chest pressed against his back. The flesh that touched him as cold as a corpse, stealing any warmth from his body. A sheet of brittle ice encasing his heart and squeezing it.
Breath, frigid like a Nebraska wind in the mid-winter, puffed against his ear as that hated voice, as Simon�s voice, told him,
"You didn�t think I�d let you get away did you? I told you, you�re mine, you belong to me. I own you Holland, and now I�m gonna show how how much I love you."
Icy fingers probing, invading his body, sending burning pain and escalating terror to course through him. Then the feel of Simon�s erection pressed against him, the final catalyst that pushed him over the edge. He opened his mouth and began to scream�
*
Scrambling to escape Dutch fell off his bed with a thud. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard, and so fast, it felt as if it would explode. His breathing was gasping and ragged. His face wet from a mixture of cold sweat and burning tears. It wasn�t until his back hit the wall that he realised that in his blind panic he�d backed himself into a corner of the bedroom. God, it had been a dream, a nightmare, so vivid he looked down at his wrists expecting to see torn, bloody flesh injured in his desperation to free himself. Instead all he saw was the slightly too pink look of newly healed skin.
Partially using the wall to pull himself up Dutch made his way to the bathroom on legs that were still a little unsteady. His body was sweaty, and it felt dirty and tainted from Simon�s imagined, or should that be remembered, touch, Dutch thought with a shudder. Switching on the shower Dutch quickly stripped off his tee shirt and boxers, dropping them into the laundry basket, and stepped under water that was as hot as he could stand.
Once he felt clean again he stopped off into his bedroom to get himself some clean clothes, but didn�t consider going back to bed. The thought of sleep banished for another night.
Instead he made his way downstairs, quickly fixed himself a cup of tea, and went into the living room. Sitting on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, Dutch sipped his tea, and in an attempt not to think about the nightmare he�d just endured, he cast his mind back to the previous day�s events.
Although it hadn�t started out to be very promising; the visit to Dr Alexander�s office, freaking out in front of Vic because he was too afraid to get into an elevator. Then acting like an idiot and throwing a tantrum in the park until Vic had been forced to point out a few home-truths to him. Despite these early indicators of another crappy day things had actually gotten a lot better after that, and he�d had what had probably been the best day for a long time.
P>AtP>At first he�d resented Vic�s presence at the psychiatrist�s office. It felt as though no one trusted him, as if he had to be checked up on all the time like a recalcitrant child. An opinion he�d made sure he�d expressed to Vic in no uncertain terms. He�d hoped, expected, that Vic would lose his temper and leave him alone. What he hadn�t expected, but what had happened, was for Vic to get mad at him and to let him have it. Usually when he pushed people too far they�d back down and back off. However, Vic had refused to do that, and Dutch had been surprised at the sense of relief Vic�s reaction had produced in him. Vic had treated him like a real person, like the old Dutch.
After that the day had just gotten better. They�d picked up Chinese, and had brought it back here to his house to eat. They�d talked about work, cases Vic and the Strike Team were involved in, other people�s cases, workplace gossip, just ordinary, everyday stuff he used to take for granted, but now felt starved of. Vic had even asked his opinion a couple of times concerning cases he was working, and although Dutch was positive that he was only doing it to be kind, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.
Probably the best thing for Dutch about the whole day though had been the fact that he�d been able to relax and feel comfortable around another man.
Since he�d come around in the hospital he�d reacted in what he knew was a completely irrational way towards other men. Even men that intellectually he knew were perfectly safe, doctors, FBI agents, Dr Alexander, even Captain Aceveda. He knew they weren�t going to hurt him, but instinctively their very presence in the same room as him seemed to set off every internal alarm he had. He�d try not to show it, but he would feel his heart rate increase, he�d get butterflies in his stomach, his palms would sweat and he�d feel nauseous. He tried to hide these symp of of his fear, but he wasn�t sure how successful he was. However, if they came too close to him he wasn�t able to prevent himself shrinking back away from them, and he knew that they noticed that. He�d seen the pity and embarrassment on their faces, and he hated it.
Yesterday had been different though. Vic had kept his distance from him physically, but not in an obvious way, and both Vic�s sensitivity and his tact had surprised Dutch. He�d also kept up an almost non-stop banter of amusing and light-hearted subjects, which had meant that for one afternoon, at least, Dutch hadn�t once thought about Collins or the events of those seven days.
It had been great while it had lasted, but eventually, of course, Vic had had to leave. He�d needed to get back to The Barn and check in with his team.
Dutch hadn�t wanted to let his disappointment show, but he knew from Vic�s expression that he had. He knew he was sulking like a petulant child, but what the hell, that was nothing new after all. He knew his attitude had made fee feel guilty, and that had just made him feel worse. When Vic had promised that he�d stop by again as soon as he could Dutch had just shrugged as if he didn�t care, and he�d felt himself closing down. God, Vic must of wondered just what kind of a loony he was. Laughing and chatting one minute, and then sullen and withdrawn the next.
The medication he was taking was supposed to be helping him manage his mood swings, but they didn�t seem to be doing a great job. His emotions seemed to be all over the place most of the time, and he hated the loss of control he felt. Not only did it make him feel as though he was losing his mind, it also exhausted him. He�d lurch from one extreme of emotion to another, highs and lows, and in between he�d be overtaken by a kind of mental and physical lethargy that left him feeling empty.
After Vic had left he�d found himself sinking down into this numb state, and yet this time instead of fighting it, resenting it, he�d welcomed it, because it had prevented him from thinking about the news that Vic had brought him earlier. The news that Simon wasn�t safely locked up in a maximum security prison, as he�d been promised by the Feds, but locked away in a hospital, not only made Dutch mad as hell, it also frightened him more than he cared to acknowledge. So he�d let himself become numb so he could avoid facing up to his feelings, but his recent nightmhad had proven how unsuccessful a strategy that had been.
Dutch sighed and took a sip of his tea, screwing up his face in disgust when he realised it was cold. He also tried very hard to suppress a shudder as some of the feelings that had seemed so real in his dream flared up briefly to remind him of the chaos that he was sure lurked just under the surface of his subconscious.
Looking up at the clock Dutch realised he was due at Dr Alexander�s office in another four hours, plenty of time for him to get ready. Plenty of time for him to have another long, hot shower, because suddenly Dutch felt dirty again.
- 6
- 7
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