See Chapter One for story info and disclaimer. This story is dedicated to Katt.

Chapter Four.

"Bills, advertisements, more bills and... hey, what do you know! Even more bills." Vic snorted as he threw the mail back on the table where he'd found it. "Even your mail is boring, Dutch."

Dutch's whole apartment was a bit of a disappointment really. Dull was too nice a word. No 'crazy profiler' work space or articles about serial murders nailed to the walls. Just a normal apartment; two rooms and a small kitchen with ugly wallpaper and cheap-looking furniture.

The only thing that suggested that Dutch actually lived there was the large collection of books. The bookshelf -- just as impressive as Vic had predicted it would be -- was standing against one of the walls and there had to be several hundreds of books. It figured, Vic though. People like Dutch who relied more on the experience of others than than that of their own always owned tons of book.

A quick peek showed that the bookshelf held thick volumes with impossibly small print and pretentious names like 'The Collected Work Of...' as well as equally thick books about profiling, human behaviour, victimology, etc. and -- Vic rolled his eyes and mouthed 'Jesus fucking Christ' as he found them -- also several detective stories. If Dutch had any porn he kept it well-hidden. Or perhaps, Vic thought cruelly, the man just jerked off while reading Sherlock Holmes or -- he squinted as he read the title -- the 'Encyclopaedia of the Enlightenment'.

"You still alive in there, Dutch?" he called out in the direction of the bathroom as he went over to the writing desk and picked up the open notepad.

Flipping through the pages proved it to be nothing more interesting than notes from the Sally case, all written in Dutch's only half-legible handwriting. No little hearts with Danny's initials written in them though, he noted to himself. Maybe there was still hope for Dutch-boy.

Realizing that he hadn't heard any response to his earlier call he put down the notebook and went over to the bathroom where he'd left Dutch just a few minutes earlier. As his knocking on the door went unanswered as well he toed it open and peeked in, hoping rather desperately that he'd just find Dutch feeling too embarrassed and miserable to talk rather than in any real need of help.

Luck wasn't on his side though as his colleague turned out to be sprawled out on the bathroom floor, either asleep or passed out. Putting together a string of curses that would have left most of the perps he arrested blushing, Vic hurried over to and knelt down by the still form.

"Hey, Dutch!" He gave the man's slack face a few, slightly more rough than necessary, slaps. "Dutch! Dutch-boy, c'mon. Wake up!"

Eyelids fluttering slightly and a slight moan was his only answer and he cursed angrily. Why did shit like this always have to happen to him? Couldn't he just please get to experience one single fucking day when he didn't have to take care of somebody else's mess?

"Don't you fucking dare to be suffering from alcohol poisoning," he growled as he ran his hands over the other man's head to make sure he hadn't hit his head on his way down. "Don't you dare do that to me."

Not finding any bumps or other evidence of an injury he gently rolled Dutch over on his side, guiding the long legs so that they pressed up against his chest. No way he was going to end up having to explain to Danny and Claudette that Dutch had drowned in his own puke while under Vic's care.

Dutch's eyes remained closed but he was obviously beginning to wake up. His hands weakly tried to bat away Vic's and he kept muttering 'stop' in an only half-audible voice.

"Stupid fucker," Vic muttered angrily to the only half-conscious man as he proceeded to loosen the tie and undo the first buttons on Dutch's shirt. "Sure, Danny's nice but c'mon.... we're not teenagers, okay? No need to drink ourselves into a stupor over a broken heart. Especially not while still on duty."

Not very surprisingly Dutch wasn't able to provide much in the way of an answer so Vic had the pleasure of continuing uninterrupted.

"You know, your partner isn't gonna be very happy about this. Oh, no, sir. I'd give a lot to be a fly on the wall when she gives you a piece of her mind about this stupid ass stunt you just pulled. And don't think I won't tell her either! Whatever she gives, you're gonna deserve. In fact, if I wasn't so damn sure Claudette would take care of it, I'd do it myself. God knows I've kicked Shane's ass enough times for the shit he's pulled."

He smiled humorlessly, hearing Shane's trademark 'What? I didn't do anything, Vic! I swear I didn't!' in the back of his head as he wet a bath towel and wiped the sweat and vomit off Dutch's face. His gesture ended up more gentle than he would have liked it to be though and he froze angrily, asking himself -- not for the first time -- why he didn't just call Claudette and left her to take care of her thick-headed partner.

Throwing the towel into a corner of the bathroom he decided that that was just what he was going to do. As soon as she got off her shift anyway. She would have to cover for Dutch-boy another hour or two. Until then he'd better stay just where he were.

"Fuck!" He glared accusingly at the unmoving man on the floor. "You're gonna owe me big time for this!"

He stormed out of the bathroom just to return a few seconds later as he realized that leaving Dutch unsupervised while half-unconscious on the cold floor probably wasn't the best of moves. But damn if he was going to spend a minute longer stuck in Dutch's unnaturally neat bathroom.

***

"Wyms."

"Vic here. We've found your partner."

There was a short pause, then a muttered 'Thank you, God' that he was positive he shouldn't have heard and hence didn't reply to. He had no problems understanding how worried she had been. After all, it didn't take a lot of imagination to figure out justhow he'd feel if Shane had gone missing. Even though his partner usually was quite a shithead he was still Vic's shithead.

"Thanks, Vic." Claudette's voice was almost-steady as she spoke again. "I'll owe you for this one. And so will Dutch. When will you be back to the station? I really want to have a word with that errant partner of mine."

Vic had eaten popsicles with less ice in them than her voice and he felt a pang of pity for Dutch. But then he remembered just who it was who was going to have to take care of Claudette's 'errant partner' and he immidiately wished all Wym's ire on Wagenbach.

"I'm sorry, Claudette, but Dutch won't be able to come in today."

"He won't... what?" From worry to relief to anger and the back to worry again. Vic made a small face. Poor woman. "Did something happen to him? Did he get hurt? Did... I swear to God, Vic, if you and your boys didn't anything to my partner I'll-"

"Whoa! We didn't do anything to him. Besides saving his sorry ass from getting fired." Vic paused for a few second before continuing. "We found him in a bar, okay? He was just a sip or two away from a trip to the ER and a tube down his throat."

"Oh, my God, Dutch. Just how stupid can you..." She trailed off, probably realizing that she was still speaking to Vic. "I'm sorry about what I said, Vic. I shouldn't have accused you of hurting him. Not when... I'm sorry. Are you still at that bar? Just give me the name and I'll come pick him up."

"We're at his place. Shane gave us a ride. And you're not going anywhere, okay? I'm gonna stay here and watch him until you get off your pass."

"What? No, Vic. You've done enough. More than enough. Dutch is my partner. I'll take it from here."

"Believe me, nothing would make me happier than to agree with you. Baby-sitting is far from my favorite passtime. But you need to keep covering for him until the end of your shift, okay?"

"But-"

"I'll take good care of him." Vic snorted loud enough for her to hear. "I won't like it. But I'm not the kind of guy that lets a fellow cop down either."

Claudette was silent for a long, long time and Vic was just about to open his mouth and say something -- anything -- to convince her when she finally answered.

"I know you're not." Her voice was much too silent and it took on a dangerous edge as she continued. "And I know that if you tell me that you're going to take good care of my partner, you'll take good care of my partner."

"You got that right," Vic agreed.

"I don't know what is happening here, Vic," she said, surprising him by the raw honesty in her voice. "But I don't like it. This isn't like Dutch. It isn't like him at all."

He had to agree with her on that. Dutch was stuck with an anal retentive personality --Vic shuddered as he realized that he was using one of Dutch's psycho babble phrases -- and a by-the-book cop. Getting drunk while on duty didn't fit either of those descriptions.

"You'll make him tell you," he promised her gently. The added, with a small grin on his lips: "And after you've fixed whatever's wrong with Dutch-boy I'm thinking you should put him over your knee and spank his bony ass."

And with that he hang up.