Company's Coming

by Centroides

Garrison gets some bad news. How he deals with it will have a big impact on the team.

1. Chapter 1

Company's Coming

Chapter 1

The team had been extracted from their last mission, by sea along with the invading commandos. Garrison had been credited with bringing the two factions of the Resistance together in time for the raid to be termed a success and it had been a success. The Allies had tested the Axis coastal defence and succeeded. Allied Command was pleased. Casino, on the other hand was not. He had been irate that the Allies had gone in, got the town all shot up, killing several of the fishermen, destroyed their bridge, their only connection to the rest of the country and now they were just going to walk away.

That was a conversation the Lieutenant had not enjoyed. He did not have the answers that satisfied the safecracker but they were all he had. Casino had left disgusted but at least he had let it go.

Now, a day later the team was lounging in the common room where they bunked. Actor had requested a separate room but was told no. He did not resent this, he knew that eventually he would earn enough respect that his request would be honoured. It was inevitable. Garrison had returned from London over an hour ago. The cons knew, by now, that this was routine. After a mission they were returned to their base and Garrison went to London. When he returned they had a few days before he was called back to London and it started all over again.

The cons had settled into what had become their usual positions. Casino was playing solitaire at the table, watched by Goniff. He was attempting to help in hopes that Casino would get frustrated and quit so he could have the cards. Actor was reading in his bedside chair and Chief sat at the window. All was quiet.

Garrison, in his office, had finished writing up his report on their last mission. There was one more order of business that he had to take care of, one he did not look forward to. It had to be done so he rang for the Sargent Major and gave him the order then waited.

Within minutes Chief walked into the office. He was always nervous about this but he hadn't messed up so he thought it was all right. That is until he saw the look on Garrison's face. Something was up and it did not look good. Though he did not show it he was worried.

"Sit down."

He complied but he did not sit all the way back on the seat. There was a pause. He listened but even without using his senses he could tell Garrison was upset by something and this something involved him. This was bad.

"Chief," the hesitation did nothing to assuage his concern. "I just received word that," Garrison inhaled and Chief held his breath. Garrison had something to tell him that he was not going to like. "GCAT is sending an officer."

Chief's eyes widened, pupils dilated. Why? Why was GCAT coming here? It was all a mistake. Maybe he was not supposed to have been sent here. They had found the mistake and now they were coming to get him to be returned for retraining.

Run.

He had to run, escape before they got here. His respiration rate increased.

"They want to check and see if everything is going all right."

It is, isn't it, thought Chief, desperately? He was doing everything Garrison asked. Maybe it was asking too much to let him off the drugs. It had worked out all right though. Then he realized that he was doing everything Garrison wanted but not what GCAT wanted. When they saw that they would take him back for retraining. He had heard what happened to Rogues that had to be retrained . A cold chill ran down his spine. Those stories couldn't be true, could they? He moved his feet under the chair so he could get up fast if he had to. He had no intention of being here when they got here. Without thought he stood. He had to run. His mouth opened as his lungs demanded more oxygen in preparation for the flight. Go. Now.

Garrison stood and stepped around from behind his desk. He could not help but see the panic. He continued to talk as calmly as he could. He had thought about this and had come up with a plan. Now all he had to do was get the Guardian to stay long enough to explain it to him. He watched as Chief stepped back. Was he going to run? What would he do if he did? All he could do was continue to talk and trust he had enough confidence in him to listen.

"When Iamello showed me how to handle you I was not keen on learning. I didn't plan on having you here that long."

That was not news to him, he knew the Officer didn't like him. Had he misunderstood? Did he still want to get rid of him? Was he going to turn him over to GCAT now?

"I need you to show me how to… handle you. Just … so GCAT can see that…" he inhaled then shook his head in frustration. Garrison could not miss the Guardian's reaction. He certainly had a right to fear them. Maybe if he explained it better. "I… I don't want them, taking you. You've earned your place here on the team. But I need your help to pull this off. That is, if you want to stay."

"You," the Guardian cleared his throat, "you just want to con them?" Chief asked hesitantly. Did he hear that right?

"Yeah."

Chief watched the look on Garrison's face. He wasn't good at reading faces but he had nothing else. Garrison looked embarrassed and hopeful. Embarrassed to be asking? Was he serious about conning GCAT? This was more than he ever hoped for. He had a chance to stay. All he had to do was show Garrison how to handle him. He saw the way the man reacted to the positions, the touching. He wouldn't change his mind and decide to keep it up. No, it was okay to show him. He would do it for the con, the con that would save his life. Could Garrison do it well enough to convince them? What if they saw through it and took him anyway? He had to try. He had to convince Garrison to be a real Handler no matter how it hurt. It was all an act. Actor could do it. Could Garrison act like a disgusting low life bastard?

Chief nodded. Thus began the strangest training session with the victim showing the torturer how to abuse him. The leash had long since disappeared, it was later learned that Goniff had lifted it and disposed of it. Chief tried to dismiss the twinge of pain when Garrison pulled a rope off the top of the filing cabinet. He had had it there ready to use. Had it been there all along in case he needed it? Would he have used it even if he had said he didn't want to teach him? He pushed these thoughts away as he told Garrison the commands and what he did when he heard them.

Chief stood by the door until Garrison said, Guardian, come," then he hurried over and knelt down in front and sat on his heels, hands on his thighs, head down. 'Guardian, heel', had him scurry to his Handler's left side and resume the position. A 'down' had his forehead on the floor. He explained that he would remain like this until Garrison said 'Guardian up' or 'Guardian, out'.

Garrison was used to the Army, the orders, the immediate response. These were things he understood. There was a reason for the hierarchy, the absolute obedience. A soldier must be trained to obey orders without thinking. That saved lives. But this? This was pointless. It disgusted him. He knew he had to do it but it was so repulsive he was not sure he could be convincing. It was a con, just like when they had Chief and Goniff dressed as escaped fliers and they were the Germans who had captured them. He tried to rationalize it but it was hard. The only thing in his favour was that Chief had to keep his eyes averted. He was not sure he could do this and see the look of betrayal that he knew had to be there.

Chief then went on to show the means of discipline. The easiest was if he was slow to respond or if he felt like it, he could use the end of the leash to whip him across his back and shoulders. Garrison had seen the welts and he was sure they had healed by now. Chief would be on his toes to impress so there would be no need for that. Chief tried to make him practice but his heart was not in it and the blow was but a tap.

This brought them to his reason for being here. Chief made the Handler-in-training go through the process of Come, Heel, and then place his hand on his head. Garrison remembered the first time and the flinch but this time he was steady.

Garrison was about to ask him to listen when there was a tap at the door and Actor poked his head in. He almost snatched his hand away but willed himself not to flinch especially when he saw the look of shock and barely suppressed rage on the tall Italian's face. It was no wonder since he had made it clear that he did not like the submissive posture and here he was doing it in private. Actor had a right to be incensed.

"What is it Actor?" his tone made it clear he was intruding. This was also not Actor's business either.

"The Corporal," he said icily, "is looking for the Duty Roster."

"It's on the Sargent-Majors desk." The head did not disappear. "That is all, Actor."

"No, it is not. Not by a long shot." The threat was clear.

"We will discuss this later." The face remained, eyes glaring a challenge, one that Garrison did not want to answer. "Close the door, now." The words were ground out from between clenched teeth.

Actor lowered his eyes to the Guardians head where Garrison's hand was placed. Due to the angle of the kneeling man's head he could not see his face. Was he all right? If he challenged Garrison now like he wanted to, what would he achieve? Actor considered himself a decent fighter but he knew Garrison was deadly. Because he was a convict, if Garrison killed him, nothing would happen and the Guardian would be at his mercy. Best plan this right. He would comply with the order for now but if Chief was upset by this he would have to do something about it. Had the Guardian not had enough of that without Garrison perpetuating it? He would let the Officer know, in no uncertain terms, that he would not tolerate this. Actor withdrew but he stood outside the door. He wanted to hear what was going on. Unfortunately the Sargent Major came along and without a good reason for being there he had to leave.

Damn, thought Garrison. That had gone badly. He should have invited him in and explained, asked for his help. Between them they could have pulled it off. Actor could have done the nasty Handler bit just like he did the haughty SS Officer. Now he was going to have to explain his decision. That was the only way to keep the trust that was mandatory in this line of work. And why had he not brought him in? It must have been that this was so distasteful that he had focused on it to the exclusion of his good sense. This was a bad situation getting worse.

"Thanks, Warden."

The quiet words broke into his thoughts confusing him. "For what? I want to get rid of GCAT as much as you do." He had to mean thanks for going through this. It had to be obvious that he did not want to.

"I mean for not lettin' Actor in." Garrison apparently did not understand. "This is bad enough without them seein'."

"They know you're a Guardian. They must have seen how you operate."

"You saw the look on Actor's face. Guardians ain't fit to be around real people."

"Chief, stand up." He waited for him to comply. "Actor looked that way at me. I've made no bones about what I think of this… this kneeling… the whole Guardian thing. He probably knows I lost my Captaincy because of," he almost said you but caught himself. "Because I left you behind on the training mission."

"You lost yer rank cause a…" he was aghast.

"No. I lost it because of my decision, and I will get it back when I can show that I can make the right decision. And this is the right one."

The pain and shame in the younger man's face was easing. "But if this don't work and they take me…"

"Let's just make sure it works."

Chief saw the look of determination and heard it in his voice. It helped to ease some of his fear. Could they pull this off? He wanted to stay here with his man who had every reason to hate him, the man who was doing something he hated for him. Or was he? No one did anything for nothing. There was always something in it for them.

There was one other thing. "What about Actor? You don't want him mad at you."

Garrison smiled. "You let me handle Actor. Right now I need to learn how to handle you." The smile remained until Chief returned to his position on the floor and they began practicing the scans.

Actor had returned to the room the cons shared. Neither of his team mates did anything more than glance in his direction as he came in. When he did not return to his chair and his book but walked over to the window they noticed.

"So what's goin' on, mate?" asked Goniff. The two men were now playing poker at the table.

Actor was unsure. There was something going on. Garrison was up to something. Being a con man he knew to never take things at face value but on the other hand when things looked bad, be very careful. He also knew to keep his mouth shut. He would not tell the others until he knew what was going on.

"Nothing. Just checking the weather. Hopefully we will not have another mission for a few days. It looks like a storm is heading this way." He tried to sound casual and to anyone else it would have worked but these men knew him well enough to know that he was not one to be concerned with the weather. The two card players exchanged looks before returning to their game.

Chief returned an hour and a half later. He knew there was going to be trouble, especially if Actor had told the others. They would have something to say, maybe even insist he sleep somewhere else. He stopped outside the door and took a couple of deep breaths to relax. He had felt good about Garrison's ability to act as a Handler. He was not sure they were going to succeed but they had a chance. Holding his head up he walked into the room and felt Actor's eyes follow him. Doing the best he could to look nonchalant he strolled over to his cot and stretched out on his back. As much as he wanted to roll over with his back to them he knew that was not the best move so he placed his hands under his head and looked over to the card players. The best thing would be to go sit in on the game but he did not think he could pull that off. The good thing was that the card players had gone right back to their game after he came in so Actor had not said anything.

Actor was puzzled. Chief looked like there was nothing wrong. He was a little nervous but all in all he looked all right. Was he covering? Actor knew the Guardian was not that good an actor but he certainly did not look like someone who had just been humiliated or drugged. There was definitely something going on and he wanted in on it. He pretended to read his book while he mulled this over.

They were called for dinner and as they trooped out Actor made sure he was at the end of the line, behind Chief. He wanted to watch what happened when he saw Garrison. Except nothing happened, in fact, Chief took his usual place on Garrison's left. There was the usual banter and at one point Chief laughed. Everything looked normal. Had Chief just been showing him something? But what and why?

The next morning the cons had their breakfast and the Sargent Major took them outside for some hand to hand combat training. This had been going on for about a half hour when Chief heard the sound, a car was coming. Maybe it was nothing to do with him but the odds were against him. He waited. The car stopped and one, two men got out. The guard he was training with advanced, fist aimed at his head and he had to pull back and concentrate. By the time he could extend again Garrison was on the terrace calling him. This was it and if his heart was not pounding from the exertion it would be now from fear.

Where was the Trainer? Was he watching? With all the pounding hearts around him he did not have time to isolate them out. He hurried up the steps ready to kneel but Garrison turned and went into the house. He followed meekly.

Actor heard the Officer call and he stepped back to see what was going on. Garrison was on edge. He turned and watched Chief hurry, tense but willing, up the steps to meet him. Something was going on and he was going to be there to find out. He headed for the steps, the others had seen and followed as well. The Sargent Major tried to stop them but to no avail. They wanted to know what was going on. It was also an excuse to stop this endless training.

Chief followed his leader, moving up behind his left shoulder into the house and down the hall to the salon. Even with his eyes down cast he could see the man sitting comfortably on one of the couches. He looked to be fairly tall, with dark hair. His dark eyes were set deep in a pasty face, the skin pock marked with acne scars. His expensive suit did little to disguise his paunch. Actor held the others back just outside the salon doors. He hoped to be able to see or at least hear the conversation but Garrison closed the doors.

Chief expected the Trainer, Professor Ainsworth, to put him through the commands but instead he told Garrison to have a seat. When he did, Chief made sure he was kneeling beside him, head down. For the next twenty minutes the Trainer tried to make conversation with Garrison, asking about the war, his background, the house, his career. That did not work so he started telling his audience about the history of GCAT, their mission, their successes and why they were necessary. Chief could tell Garrison was getting angry but feared what he would do. He sure would like to see Garrison throw the Trainer out but the consequences would be terrible. GCAT would just take him back.

Finally the Trainer sat forward. "Well, let's see you put it through its paces. See if you've kept up the training. Usually Guardians being handled by someone not trained at Guardian Control have to have refresher courses. I'm prepared to take it back with me. It would be returned at a later date, of course. Your Commanding Officer is aware of this. Now let's get started."

Chief was in a panic. He was going to be taken no matter what. Maybe he should run now. They wouldn't be expecting it. A hand descended on his shoulder with just enough pressure to reassure him that he knew what was going through his mind. He had to trust him. Could he?

Garrison rose and stepped away then went through the commands just as they had practiced. Chief leapt to obey. He had only one chance at this or his life was over.

"It's too slow. Do you practice every day?"

"We don't always have time."

"Well it shows. Here, let me show you how it's done." He reached down into his leather briefcase and pulled out a coiled leather leash. "I had this one especially made for training." He uncoiled it and walked over to where Chief was kneeling, snapped it into place on the collar and stepped back. "Guardian."

Chief was so tense he almost jumped to obey but he had seen this before. He waited, not moving until he heard his mouth open and the first sound. He jumped to obey. The command to heel set him into motion but before he had his feet under him he was yanked forward and to the side. He threw out his hands to stop his fall but the leash was pulled up and the collar bit into his throat choking him. He coughed as he managed to kneel beside the Trainer. He was still coughing as the lash hit his back biting through his shirt with an intense pain that arched his back.

"Now, that's how you do it. Now you try." Garrison stalled as long as he could to give Chief a chance to recover then went through the commands. Chief moved as fast as he could but the Trainer insisted he do the correction as well. Garrison paused, unwilling to inflict more pain but when the Trainer offered to show him how to do it again he performed to dreaded action pulling up on the leash and striking his back with the end of the leash. He knew he had to hurt him or the Trainer would show him again.

"That wasn't much of a correction but you've got to keep after it. If you don't it gets lazy, see how much straighter it sits? You do that every day and you'll see how much faster it obeys too. Now let's see you do some searches."

Later at dinner the Trainer asked where the Guardian was. Garrison, wanting to spare Chief had sent the cons to eat in the kitchen and he and his guest sat in the dining room.

"I prefer to eat without him so he eats in the kitchen."

"No, no. You can't let it get away with that. You have no idea what it can get up to without your supervision. If it went CAT then you would have an awful time getting it back. It's easier to keep it close." He bellowed the command and Chief hurried in kneeling in his place by Garrison's feet. The meal continued with the Trainer telling his host stories about his life and his experiences with Guardians, especially Rogues. The plush rug did little to cushion Chief's knees as professor drew out the meal as long as he could, requesting an extra helping and more wine then desert. Finally he had had enough to eat and he suggested they retire to the salon for cigars and brandy. Garrison lied and said they were all out of cigars but the professor had brought his own and he insisted Garrison try one. They might have been good but Garrison was too worried to enjoy it. He also knew that Chief had not had much time to eat but if he was as worried as he was then he probably could not eat. As it was the food he had swallowed sat like a rock in his stomach.

After several glasses of brandy and several stories that the Officer considered pure bunk, the Professor said it was time to turn in. Garrison was relieved until he said, "I'll just take the dog with me for the night. You don't mind do you?" It was not a question.

Garrison started to object but was cut off by the Trainer who said, "He on loan, still property of GCAT." With that he picked up the leash and snapped it on the collar saying, "Guardian, come." With a flick of the leash Chief jumped up but not before Garrison caught a glimpse of his face. He looked like he was going to be sick. The two left and he heard them on the stairs.

Damn, thought Garrison. Chief doesn't deserve to sleep on the floor, but how could he get him out of this? He sat deep in thought formulating plans then discarding them. He was about to go see Actor when he had an idea. He grabbed his coat and Chief's then ran up the stairs and knocked on the guest room door.

"Who is it?" came the muffled response.

"It's me, Garrison, I need the Guardian. There's a disturbance beyond the courtyard. I want him to see what's there."

"Can't you just go out there and look." He sounds annoyed.

"If we're being attacked it's better if we know how many. It's important." He almost said it won't take long but he had no intention of letting him go back.

"Oh all right, just give me ten minutes."

What did he need ten minutes for? Garrison's mind went places he did not want to go. With an urgency he did not have to fake he said, "We can't wait. If they breach the wall it'll be hand to hand combat. We can't lose the element of surprise." He rattled the door knob. It was locked.

"Keep your pants on. I'll be right there." The bed springs creaked and flesh met flesh with a resounding slap. Almost a minute later the door opened and a pale shaky Guardian stood there. His shirt was on inside out and several buttons were missing.

He was about to turn away before he remembered, "Guardian, come". He handed over the coat and marched down the hall and ultimately out the back door. The Trainer's room was off to the side but just in case he had followed and was watching them out in the moonlight he stopped just outside the door and said, "We have to make this look real." Chief dropped to his knees and this time he flinched when the hand descended on his head. The officer felt the tremors that increased to shaking. "Point to the left over there and hold up two fingers." This was done. Garrison pulled his gun from the holster and said. "You're doing good, Chief. This'll get you away from here. We'll spend an hour or two until he falls asleep then we'll return."

The two men slipped off into the shadows and out the small access door into the field beyond. He closed the door and asked the Guardian if there was a sheltered spot they could stay. Without a word he set off, Garrison right behind him.

Once in the wood lot Chief led them to the top of a tall fir that had fallen against another tree and was now leaning at a forty-five degree angle. Along the trunk the branches that had met the ground had been cut or bent so a sheltered area had been created under the trunk. Garrison gestured for Chief to go first but he shook his head and hung back. The Officer went in, crouching to avoid the trunk and sat cross-legged at the back. Chief came in as far as where the first branches touched the ground and sat on his heels, Guardian position with his hands on his thighs.

"You don't have to sit like that here." There was no response, he just continued to sit looking out into the forest. There was a long silence, the only sound was that of the wind in the trees. Finally Garrison realized that Chief had not moved.

"Chief?" After calling him again and getting no response he got up and moved closer. He could not see any details in the dark so he took out a match and struck it. Chief's face was blank, he had not even blinked or reacted to the light. He had gone catatonic, he had gotten lost in a scan. Shit, thought Garrison. How long had he been out? The longer they were out the harder it was to get them back. He called his name again and put his hand on his arm like he did for a scan. Chief's arm was like a rock.

"Come on, Chief." He nudged his arm but his whole body was rigid. What the Hell? "Chief, don't do this now. I need you to come back. Follow my voice, Chief, I'll lead you back. I don't want to lose you like this." He began rubbing his arms but it was like rubbing a statue. He moved in behind him and began kneeding his shoulders, all the while talking to him. "We need you, Chief. We got you off the drugs. That had to have been hard but you survived. We can get you through this. Just don't quit on me now. Come on, come back." Garrison's hands were beginning to ache so he switched to rubbing up and down his arms again. "Chief, you gotta help me here, I don't know what else to do." He was exhausted and it came through in his voice but he kept on going. Then he felt the muscles relax and Chief toppled over.

"Chief!" Garrison checked his carotid and breathed a sigh of relief when he found it, weak but steady. Carefully he straightened him out and taking his own jacket off he placed it over the prone form. Picking up one of his hands to tuck it under the edge he was shocked at how cold it was. Even his neck was cold. He had to get him warm. He turned the Guardian on his side and brought his knees up toward his chest then repositioned his coat over him. At least more of him was covered now but he knew that was not enough. How visible were they from the house? Would Ainsworth come looking for them? He needed a fire to warm the man or he was going to die.

The Officer had had Survival Training. He knew to look for dry wood and a clear space and how to build a fire but he also knew when that was not a good idea. A better idea was to get him somewhere warm like a building, a house or even a shed.

"Chief? It's time to go home now. Let's get you up." He grabbed his arm and pulled him up. Because of the tree trunk overhead he had to drag the sleeping man out from under before he could haul him up and over his shoulder. This was a protected spot but a tinder box where a fire was concerned.

The return was longer than he had thought. Carrying a dead weight always made the trip longer. There, up ahead was the door back into the courtyard. He had almost reached it when his burden stirred then exploded. Suddenly he had not a sack of potatoes but a wild animal. Not wanting to drop him, he grabbed him and tried to ease him down but the wild contortions pulled him off balance and he fell. Before he could recover the wild animal was on him, punching repeatedly. Defense was his first thought then as he maneuvered to protect himself he was able to throw his attacker but before he could pin him he scrambled to his feet and was about to attack again.

"Chief! It's me." He held up his hands to show he was unarmed. "It's all right. I won't hurt you." In the waning moonlight he could not see features but the fighting stance was relaxing, marginally. "Let's get you back to the house,"

Chief shook his head and took a step back and then another. He wasn't going back there ever. Just catch his breath and he was gone forever.

"You need to get warm, Chief." Of course he wouldn't want to go back there. The Trainer was there, his worst nightmare was there, in the house. He wouldn't want to go anywhere near there. "Do you think you can make the climb up to your window? Once inside there's lots of places for you to hide. I'll tell that animal that you were killed. You'll be safe."

"He'll want a body."

"We'll think of something, Chief. I just want to get you warm. Come on." He headed for the door hoping Chief would follow. Once he had the door open he swung it wide and stepped back and looked back. Chief was still standing in the same spot. It was now up to him to decide. Which would he chose and what would he do about it? Could he really force him back? Would he want to?

Chief stood, tense, watching the man who had helped him. He wanted him to go back there. He couldn't, not to that. He couldn't go through that ever again. He was asking too much. His body began to tremble. He tried to stop it but he couldn't. His eyes began to water. No, he thought, as his breath caught. To die in the cold was better than that. His legs felt rubbery and he felt like he was going to pass out so he squatted down and put one knee on the ground. He heard, from far away, his name being called and a figure approached.

"Touch me," he growled, "an' I swear I'll kill you." He took several deep breaths, waiting for the touch, waiting for his head to clear. The touch did not come but the anger was helping to clear his head. He looked up into the darkness, listened to the heartbeat beside him, then gathered his strength and stood. The figure beside him stepped back giving him room but did not leave. He took a step and then another. Maybe instead of dying he should do some killing. He would kill the trainer and they would send someone to kill him. That was fair. Take at least one with you. A good motto to live and die by. He took another step.

Garrison watched as Chief stood. He would wait as long as it took in spite of the cold. The exertion from carrying and then fighting had warmed him but that was waning. He was getting cold. He watched as the figure sank down. Was that his decision? He was staying? He could not walk away. He would not force him but he could not just walk away either. He moved closer. He could not see details but he got the impression of exhaustion, vulnerability, collapse. He reached out his hand to offer comfort and support but the growled response stopped him cold. The man might be physically and emotionally exhausted but there was still a raging inferno in there. He waited unsure what to do. He saw the inhalations, saw the body straighten. He was getting up so he stepped back. After all that had happened, whatever that was, he would want and deserve some space. He waited knowing that there was still the possibility the man might collapse again. He waited as he took a step and another. He was heading for the door. That was good. He remained a stride behind all the way to the darkened house.

The two men made their way around to the side where the cons window was located. Chief stopped and looked up. He had done this many times but never feeling as washed out as he did now. He pictured his cot, cold and not all that comfortable. He pictured, what? Incentive, he needed a reason to exert himself. That … trainer. He pictured his face, his sneer and almost bolted. The picture he had seen was his face in the window. No. Change that to that thing lying in bed asleep. He was going up there to kill him. Yes, he would climb up here so he could kill him. He grabbed the first handhold and pulled himself up.

Garrison watched him debate at the bottom of the wall. It did not look that difficult but in his weakened state… Then slowly he began the climb. He waited and watched until the figure disappeared through the window before heading for the back door and the promised warmth of his own bed.

Inside the room was black. Chief knew the layout and where his bed was but before he could rest he had to wash. Silently he headed for the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He picked up the bar of soap and began scrubbing himself. Over and over he scoured his body but he couldn't get the smell, the feel of those hands off him. He scrubbed again. The water ran cold but it didn't matter. His skin was red from the scrubbing and numb from the cold but he kept on going. There was only one thought, get it off!

A hand appeared and grabbed the cloth he was using. A voice called his name telling him, demanding that he stop. He couldn't. He had to get it off. The hand released the cloth and he began again only to be stopped by a smell, a smell so strong he pulled back. It was a good smell. He inhaled but it was so strong. He pulled back and saw a face. It was Garrison's face.

"Chief? It's all right. It's all gone. All it is, is a memory now."

Chief stood, mouth open, shaking his head. Garrison was standing beside the tub holding an open bottle of after shave. That was the smell, a smell he associated with order, sanity, better times. He pulled that smell to him and wrapped it around his senses. It would be okay. As reality returned he felt the cold, the pain in his skin where he had rubbed it raw. He looked down. He was standing naked, shivering in the bathtub.

"I should never a done it. I should never a let you talk me into it. You don't know how bad it was, how I had ta stand there and let that bastard…" His shivering was now less from the cold than from anxiety and shame. His eyes watered and his throat constricted. "I couldn't stop him." He sucked in a breath and continued. "I couldn't say anything while he…" His body shook with emotion and his tears mixed with the water running down from his hair.

Garrison wrapped the towel around the suffering man. "I'm sorry."

Chief grabbed the towel and pushed Garrison's hand away. "You're sorry? That's not enough fer what I had to go through."

"Maybe you're right." He knew that Chief was too wrapped up in his misery and pain to listen to reason. He had to do something to get his attention. "Maybe I was wrong to try to con them. I should have just told them you were off the drugs and let him take you back to GCAT."

That did it. Chief blinked then froze, mouth open, a stunned look on his face. In a tiny voice he asked, "Is that what you want?"

"No, Chief, that is not what I want. Look, I'm sorry, sorry that I couldn't come up with something to stop him. I'm sorry it took me so long to come up with a way to get you out of there." He looked down, embarrassed, "I am sorry that… about what happened to you, but I can't fix it, all I can do is tell you how sorry I am."

Chief stood alone, in agony. He had used his anger to dull the pain, to cover the shame, to hide his embarrassment. Garrison had just taken his anger away. The Officer was right. None of this would have happened if he had just handed him over. NO that was wrong. It would have happened over and over and worse. He began to tremble and his stomach churned. And he went even colder. Garrison had saved him from that. Garrison had saved him and he had yelled at him. Garrison didn't deserve that. Worthless Guardian. GCAT was right, stupid worthless dog.

A voice called softly and he felt the gentle tug on the towel. He stepped out of the tub and followed the man down the hall.