Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.

Day – Chapter 5.

Vic studied Dutch out of the corner of his eye. He sat staring straight ahead, ignoring Vic. His entire body was tight with tension, and Vic had the impression that it left Dutch brittle. One touch and he might shatter. They must look ridiculous, he thought to himself, like a pair of bookends, one sat at either end of the park bench. However, Vic was well aware that Dutch didn't take too kindly to any encroachment into his personal space.

Of course Dutch had never been a very tactile person. Vic had figured that out after a couple of days of first meeting him. Highly-strung and up tight had been his assessment. After the Sally case, and watching how Dutch had obsessed over it, Vic had added "taking things too personally" and "likely to burn-out", to the list. Of course the reason for all these personality traits had become glaringly obvious with the surgeon's words the first day at the hospital, two months ago.

Poor guy, to have suffered all that he had at the hands of that monster Collins was bad enough, but to have also survived being abused as a kid. Vic had to suppress a sigh. Dutch had refused point-blank to talk about what had happened to him in his childhood. He wouldn't talk about it, and he wouldn't tell them who'd hurt him. However, considering he'd had no contact with his parents it wasn't too difficult to figure it out. The advice from the department shrink had been for everyone to back off the subject. It was something that he'd tackle with Dutch during their therapy sessions, he'd said. Asshole, Vic thought. If it had been Dutch's father that had hurt him as a kid then someone needed to track the bastard down and mete out some justice. A job Vic wouldn't mind doing himself.

Right now though he had some news for Dutch that he wasn't sure how he'd take. Clearing his throat Vic turned towards the other man and said,

"There's something you should know Dutch."

Dutch half turned towards him, but his gaze never left the small pond they were sitting next to. As if the half dozen ducks that swam in circles there were the most fascinating things he'd ever seen. His voice sounding cautious he asked Vic,

"Oh, and what's that?"

"Aceveda called me into his office just before I left to…"

Dutch interrupted,

"Come spy on me."

Vic winced at the flatness to his tone,

"To make sure you were ok." Vic firmly told him. "Because your partner was concerned and…and I was concerned too."

Vic watched as surprise at his words registered briefly on Dutch's face, and once more silently cursed Collins, and everyone else in Dutch's life, who'd made him feel so bad about himself that he was surprised that anyone would be bothered to be worried about him. Wanting to get this over with he continued,

"Like I said, Aceveda called me in to see him, he wanted me to tell you…Well to tell you that the decision's been made about Collins' mental fitness to stand trial."

Vic paused, watching Dutch carefully. As soon as he'd mentioned Collins' name he'd seen Dutch fold into himself slightly, his eyes dropping to the floor, and his teeth worrying his lower lip in nervousness. Finally Dutch asked, in a voice so quiet Vic only just heard him,

"And?"

"They've ruled him unfit to stand trial. He's been committed to the Las Encinas Psychiatric Hospital."

Dutch was quiet for a moment before he asked,

"For how long?"

"Aceveda wasn't sure. He didn't have all the details, but he's gonna find out and let you know. He just wanted you to know there isn't gonna be a trial so...."

Once again Dutch interrupted him,

"So I don't have to stand up in court and describe…everything."

"No, no you don't."

Vic watched Dutch carefully. The younger man's face had shut down, the lack of expression not giving him any clue as to how he was taking the news.

Then Dutch said,

"And he gets to sit in a comfortable hospital while the doctors try to "help" him".

Vic winced at the amount of bitterness and derision, in Dutch's voice. But what could he say, he couldn't blame Dutch for feeling pissed off. Collins wasn't insane he was evil. There'd been too much careful planning and clever deception used to perpetrate his crimes, for them to have been the acts of a mad man, but the city employed shrinks felt differently, and it was their call. He could see how to Dutch it would seem that Collins was getting away with it, getting the easy option, and hell he was. No doubt as much as Dutch didn't want to give evidence in a courtroom, he at least wanted to see some form of justice done.

Feeling bad for him Vic said,

"I'm sorry Dutch."

"Yeah," Dutch replied, "everyone's sorry."

His voice sounded so desolate that Vic studied him carefully. His misery was plain to see. He sat staring at the ground, his arms wrapped around himself. He looked so alone.

Vic wanted to reach out, to touch him. Even if it was just a hand on his arm, something to show Dutch that he wasn't alone, that he didn't have to go through this alone, but he didn't.

Vic didn't want to admit it, even to himself, but he was afraid. Afraid what Dutch's reaction would be, afraid of getting pulled any deeper into Dutch's life, and afraid that maybe he wanted to be.

He clenched his hands into fists, and had to make a conscious effort to keep them by his sides. His life had enough complications in it at the moment; he certainly didn't need to be adding any more. Then he felt a rush of guilt for thinking of Dutch as a "complication".

He couldn't offer Dutch any comfort with his touch, so Vic desperately tried to come up with some words that might express how he felt. However, every phrase of sympathy that came into his mind seemed trite and patronizing. It was Dutch, who spoke first, standing up he said,

"I'm going home."

Getting up too Vic took a step towards him, and then halted,

"I'll give you a lift."

Dutch hesitated,

"I could walk."

"It's what…four miles back to your place? Come on it's on my way anyway."

"I'd rather walk." Dutch said quietly.

Vic chewed his lip for a moment, before saying,

"I'll walk with you then."

Dutch huffed out an annoyed breath,

"Why…afraid I'll get lost. Jesus, I'm not a kid, or an invalid, or whatever it is you all see me as. I don't need a…a…baby-sitter."

Caught off-guard by Dutch's sudden temper, Vic stepped back, and raised his hands in a placating gesture. He ignored the curious stare of a couple of passers-by.

"Alright…alright no need to bite my head off. I just thought…I don't know…maybe you'd like to talk or something."

"Well I don't." Dutch snapped. "I don't know why people can't seem to understand that. I don't want to "share" or "unburden myself", or whatever other pseudo-psychological bullshit people want to come out with. This isn't a God-damned episode of Ricki Lake, this is my fucking life…and I don't want to talk about what happened in that room, or when I was a kid…. Christ!"

Vic knew that Dutch was frustrated, and confused, and angry. He knew that he was just hitting out at the nearest target he had, which was him, but he still felt pissed, and before he could stop himself he retaliated,

"Yeah well pardon people for caring. Jesus Dutch maybe you want to stop wallowing in so much self-pity, and let people in, let people help you. People care…is that so hard for you to believe? You don't have to do it all on your own…you've got to stop pushing us all away."

All the colour had drained from Dutch's face as Vic had been talking, and when he finished Dutch sat down heavily on the bench again, looking like he'd been sucker punched. Vic took a deep breath, his anger suddenly dissipated, and mentally he kicked himself. Dropping back down onto the bench too, he apologized,

"Shit, I'm sorry Dutch. I didn't mean it I…"

He got no further before Dutch interrupted him,

"No…no you're right." Dutch said, as he reached up and scrubbed a hand through his hair before continuing, "I just…I don't know, everything is such a fucking mess. I know people…you, Claudette, even Dr Alexander…I know you want to help, but I don't even know how to help myself. Shit…half the time I don't feel anything, and the other half I feel like I'm going fucking crazy."

Dutch stopped, his voice breaking, and he pressed his lips tightly together. Vic looked away, to give him at least the illusion of privacy, and pretended not to notice as Dutch wiped the palm of his hand quickly over his eyes.

After a couple of minutes of silence Dutch finally said,

"Is that ride still on offer?"

Vic turned to him and smiled,

"Sure." Then deciding to push his luck he added. "We could pick up something to eat on the way, have it at your place…Claudette said you've got a thing for Chinese?"

Dutch stood up, and laughed, shaking his head,

"Don't you have some work to do…doors to kick in…gang members to roust?"

"Nah," Vic said as they began to walk towards where he'd left his car. "I've exercised my leadership skills by delegating the grunt-work to the team for the day. Besides if I get you to eat it'll earn me some points from Claudette, and it's always a good idea to keep on that woman's right side."

Dutch laughed again, and Vic smiled, and was a little surprised at how happy hearing Dutch laugh made him feel.