Work Text:
Title: - Dove.
Author: - Katt.
E-mail: - kattanon@hotmail.com
Rating: - PG-13.
Feedback: - Like it or loathe it let me know.
Archive: - I'd be honoured just let me know. Archived at the Shield Fanfiction Archive.
Disclaimer: - I don't own any of the characters of The Shield, they all belong to Shawn Ryan and FX.
Author's Notes: - An episode-tag for "The Quick Fix".
Dove.
Jesus, Claudette hadn't spoken one word to him on the drive back to The Barn, she hadn't even been able to look at him. When they'd gotten back and he'd finished parking the car she'd gotten out, marched back inside, and left him standing alone in the car park. Not that he blamed her. Here he was in the bathroom, in front of the mirror, and even he couldn't look at his own reflection, his own face. He knew his guilt for what had happened to little Mayda Reyes was emblazoned across his face for everyone to see.
Oh, he'd thought he'd been so fucking clever. He'd left his notebook behind at the Reyes home after Cuca's mother and brother had refused to tell them anything. He'd known that Mayda would come into The Barn to return it, and he'd known that when she did he could get her to tell him about Armadillo Quintero. Yeah, he was so smart, manipulating a twelve-year-old girl into going against her family's wishes, and placing herself in danger in the process. Did he do this for purely selfless reasons, just to crack the case, catch the killer of Mayda's brother? No of course not. That was part of it, but another part of the equation was that he wanted to succeed. He wanted to prove what a great detective he was. He'd cracked the Gilroy case, and the Sean Taylor case, and he'd wanted to be the one to get the credit for bringing down Armadillo too. If he had to use a little girl to do that, well he'd just salve his conscience by telling himself she'd volunteered the information after all.
God, what had he done. His stomach had turned as he'd listened to Cuca's ex-girlfriend telling him and Claudette about the significance of the dove tattoo, and there had been that same symbol on little Mayda's face. He'd thought he'd throw up there and then when Claudette had slowly peeled that band-aid from her face. Armadillo had ripped Mayda's innocence from her, and he'd helped him do it.
Dutch closed his eyes as he remembered Claudette's frantic voice trying to get Mayda's family to let them help, to get Mayda to a doctor. However, the family had refused all their offers of help, and who could blame them after what his selfishness had done.
He heard the door to the bathroom slowly opening, and quickly turned away not wanting to see anyone, not wanting to face anyone. Damn, why couldn't it be the end of his shift so he could just go home and get drunk.
"Dutch," a voice softly said from the doorway.
Dutch felt his shoulders sag when he recognised Claudette's voice. Had she come to tell him what he already knew, that Mayda's rape was all his fault? He knew he should answer her, face her, but he couldn't.
"Dutch...talk to me."
Dutch snorted softly, and finally found his voice,
"And say what Claudette? I'm sorry...you were right and I was wrong...Jesus what can I say...nothing can ever make this right. Nothing can ever give Mayda back what I helped that bastard take from her...I know..."
His voice faltered on those last words, and he squeezed his eyes shut to prevent the tears that threatened to fall from spilling down his face. He didn't deserve any tears; he didn't deserve to wallow in self-pity. He waited for Claudette to leave, he waited for her to walk out in disgust at the whining quality his voice had taken on, but instead she said,
"You can't blame yourself for what Armadillo did Dutch...you can't be culpable for the actions of an evil bastard like that."
"But I put Mayda in danger...you were right I should never of involved her, but oh no I knew better, I wanted to solve the case no matter what...and see what happened. Mayda suffered because of me...and Christ Claudette don't pretend that you don't blame me too. You couldn't even look at me afterwards, you couldn't wait to get away from me."
There was a heavy silence that hung between the two of them then, and Dutch still expected Claudette to turn on her heel and leave. So he started slightly when he felt her gentle touch on his arm,
"Look at me Dutch...please."
Reluctantly he turned to face her, but was unable to look her in the eye, afraid to see her disappointment in him there. He cared about what Claudette thought of him; in fact he probably valued her good opinion of him above anyone else's, and the thought he'd lost that crushed him.
"No not the floor...look at me." She repeated.
Cursing himself for being a coward, and feeling that he deserved to face her disappointment, her disgust in him, he steeled himself and looked up. He was taken aback by what he saw in her eyes, sympathy and concern.
"I'm not saying you weren't wrong to involve Mayda Dutch, but what Armadillo did to her...the guilt for that lies with him...all with him and we'll get him...we'll get him and he'll pay for everything he's done."
Dutch wasn't sure if he could face Claudette's understanding, it might be easier if she'd yelled at him,
"But it was my fault Claudette...I wanted to get him, and I was prepared to use Mayda to do that, and I didn't stop to think of the consequences. You know that...in the car on the way back you..."
Here his voice petered out, knowing he didn't have to reiterate for Claudette her earlier coldness towards him. He didn't want to sound as if he was complaining about it, as if he hadn't deserved it.
Claudette sighed and nodded sadly,
"You're right Dutch I was mad at you, but I've been thinking and I know you're reasons for doing what you did were good."
Dutch wanted to interrupt her. He wanted to tell her that he wasn't so sure if they were good reasons. Maybe he'd just wanted to have something to brag about, a great bust under his name. However, he clamped his lips together, and said nothing as Claudette continued,
"It's just...I'm worried about you son. I don't want you to start thinking "the end justifies the means". I don't want you turning into the kind of cop who'll do anything for a conviction. The kind of cop who bends the rules, because they think getting a conviction is more important than upholding the rule of law. I don't want you turning into a cop like Vic Mackey."
Looking at her Dutch could see the sincerity in her face as she spoke, and he shook his head,
"No...no I wouldn't do that Claudette. I won't say I've never been tempted, but I'd never purposely do anything dishonest...never."
Claudette nodded,
"I know...it's just, well you need to think about the whole picture sometimes Dutch. Sometimes you have to let a case go, and just trust that you'll get another shot at it later...sometimes you have to put other considerations above getting a conviction."
Dutch nodded his understanding,
"I know...I can see that...it doesn't make me feel any better about what happened though."
"I didn't think it would son." Claudette said sadly, "You just have to learn from this and move on...use it to make yourself a better cop...and Dutch if you didn't feel the way you do about what's happened...well you wouldn't be the person I've come to respect."
Letting a small smile form on his face Dutch said,
"Thanks Claudette."
Squeezing his arm gently Claudette moved towards the door, before pausing and turning back to him,
"Our shift ends in ten minutes or so, and I don't know about you but I could do with something to eat before I head home? I've got a thing for egg rolls tonight...hurry up and I'll buy you some from that little place you like so much. How's that sound? Something to eat, and a little conversation huh?"
His smile widened and was a little more heartfelt when he replied,
"That sounds great Claudette...thanks...I'll be out in a minute ok?"
"Ok."
With that she left him alone, and turning back to the mirror Dutch lifted his eyes, and found that with his partner's help he could face himself again. It didn't mean he didn't still feel an aching guilt deep inside himself for what had happened to Mayda, but at least he knew he wasn't totally alone, he hadn't lost his partner.