Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Trespass – Chapter 15.
The surgical waiting room was quite a contrast when compared to the ER waiting room three floors below. The walls were painted in soothing pastel shades with comfortable chairs and even a coffee machine. The quiet group were the only ones in the room at the moment. The door snapped shut behind Jenny as she left them after explaining that a surgeon would be in to talk to them when Dutch's operation was over. She had seemed eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere behind her.
Vic dropped into a chair with a tired sigh. He sat with his arms on his knees, his head bowed, staring at the floor. He didn't want to face the other people in that room. The two Westwood detectives with their questioning, professional expressions, Aceveda his face saddened by the news of what had happened to Dutch, but also with a hint of suspicion in it when he looked at Vic. Vic knew that Aceveda was already convinced that the whole thing was his fault, convinced that Dutch had somehow been caught in the crossfire, an innocent victim of some form of retribution that had been aimed at Vic. Of course right now Vic didn't give a shit what Aceveda thought or what those two dicks from Westwood thought either, there was only one person in that room that Vic felt he owed anything to. Claudette's eyes hadn't left him since the doctor's words had stated so clinically the horror of what had happened to Dutch. He had felt her gaze on him all the time during that quiet, strained lift ride up to the third floor. He could feel it boring into the top of his bowed head now. However, he hadn't been able to meet her gaze since he'd dropped his eyes and apologised to her for not protecting her partner. He felt her move to stand in front of him and he readied himself as best he could for what would follow,
"What the hell happened Vic…that doctor, she was wrong right…I mean…I mean not Dutch, Vic tell me…not Dutch?" Her voice sounded different to Vic not like the self-assured, confident Claudette he was used to hearing.
"I'm sorry Claudette I wish…" Vic mumbled out a repeat of his previous apology.
"No, you look at me God damn it Vic, you look at me and tell me what happened. You explain to me how this could happen!" Claudette's voice cracked a little at the last, emotion threatening to overwhelm her, and Vic winced in sympathy.
Knowing Claudette wanted to see his face, his eyes as he told her what had been done to Dutch, knowing that she needed to see them, he wearily raised his head and met her gaze. He felt a huge wave of sadness well up inside him at the confusion, fear and pain that he saw when he finally met her eyes. He felt an urge to explain to her, try to make her realise that if could have helped Dutch he would of, if he'd been able to stop those animals from touching him, from hurting him so badly then he would of.
"There wasn't anything I could do Claudette. Christ don't you think if I could of stopped them I would of. They…they were armed, they took us by surprise. They tied my hands behind my back and they wanted to play this game…this sick fucking game. Shit…bastards fucking sick evil bastards!" The words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush taking everyone by surprise, their tone anguished.
Claudette moved back away from Vic, taking a deep steadying breath.
"Alright we all need to calm down." Aceveda said trying to take charge of the situation. "We're all shocked and upset but Detectives Gregory and Lehane need this statement Vic if they're going to move forward in their investigation. Now we all want these perps to be caught as soon as possible so I suggest we all sit down and let's try to get this statement finished as quickly as we can."
Vic nodded wearily knowing that this was unavoidable. That everything was going to have to be told, everything was going to have to be confessed. He needed to get this over with so that he would be free to check in with Shane. He would need to feel the burn of revenge after he had re-lived the events of the past night. After everyone sat down Vic was aware of all the eyes in the room being solely focused on him. He steeled himself for what was to come and cleared his throat as he began,
"I was staying at Dutch's house…um Detective Wagenbach's house," He said flicking his gaze at Lehane who was writing his words down in his notebook.
Lehane nodded his understanding back at him and Vic continued,
"Anyway the place I'm staying at has a roach problem so it's getting fumigated and Dutch offered to let me stay at his place for a few days, because he's got a spare room. Everything was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious and we just went to bed. About an hour or so later, around one thirty or so," Vic corrected himself trying to be as accurate as possible.
The police officer in him trying to stick with procedure, trying to find an anchor in the familiar routine of his job. Something that might distance himself from the events he was going to have to relay,
"I was asleep when the light went on in the room and there was this guy standing there pointing a gun at me, a Baretta I think. He was dressed all in black, a black sweater, black jeans and a black ski mask covering his face. He was about five foot ten tall, about 180 lbs., he was Caucasian, sounded like a local too." Vic paused remembering the shock he'd felt when he'd awoken to be confronted by the armed intruder.
However, Vic didn't want the emotion, he didn't want to feel the emotional turmoil that that night's events had set off within him. If he could just stick to the facts and nothing but the facts maybe he could sublimate the feelings and ignore them. So clearing his mind he pressed on,
"He told me to get up and not to try anything else he'd kill me. I thought about my gun but it was in a drawer, out of my reach so I decided it would be best to go along with him for now. I hoped I might get a chance to do something later on. I thought…I thought they'd just come to rob the house…I didn't know…Well anyway he pushed me down the landing to Dutch's room and there was another guy already in there with a gun on Dutch, a Glock, definitely a Glock. Dutch was still in bed so I guess he'd been woken up just as I had. This second man was taller and bigger built, about six two and 190lbs. He was dressed all in black too, sweater, trousers and ski mask. Also Caucasian, but his voice was different…Southern…maybe Georgia…yeah I'd say Georgia. Looked to me like he was the boss too."
"Why do you think that?" Lehane asked, poised to write down Vic's answer.
"Just a feeling you know…he seemed to be the one giving the orders plus…"
"Plus what?" Lehane wanted to know when Vic didn't finish his sentence.
"Nothing…nothing." Vic told him.
Vic hadn't wanted to finish what he'd been going to say. He hadn't wanted to tell them that the big guy had seemed to be the leader of the two men because he'd gone first, he'd raped Dutch first. Trying to regain his equilibrium Vic continued,
"Anyway Dutch must have thought the same as me…that this was a robbery because he did all the right things you know. He told them where his wallet and car keys were and where anything else they might want to take was. He kept calm, he did everything right, everything you're supposed to do." Vic looked at Claudette when he said this, but quickly looked away when he saw the cold expression on her face.
Her shock giving way to fury, a fury she hadn't yet decided if it should be directed at him. Continuing with his narrative Vic picked a spot on the far wall, a faded stain, and focused on that as he began to speak,
"The guy by Dutch, the leader he says that they don't want any of those things, that we'll find out what they want soon. Dutch didn't understand what he meant, neither did I and Dutch he looked over at me, and he was confused… I could see he was confused."
That was it, remembering the confused look on Dutch's face when he'd looked at Vic, confusion which had turned into concern at how the events were going to unfold, was enough to scupper Vic plans to block out the emotion. He couldn't help himself as he began to relay the events he'd experienced it was as if he was back there in that room, watching everything, powerless to help, powerless to change things.