The Dogs Of War: Chapter 13

Sören was discharged from the hospital on Wednesday while Dooku was still at school. Dooku sent back a text message letting Sören know he'd be there as soon as he was done, and when he left the university he went straight to the hospital. Sören was waiting in the lobby, and Dooku led him to the car, helping him get in, feeling bad when Sören winced with pain at the shift in his position even though he knew it couldn't be helped. Dooku put Sören's seatbelt on for him, his face burning and stomach turning flip-flops again at the incidental physical contact; he felt like his entire body was buzzing when he got in the driver's seat.

They went to Sören's house first. Seth's car wasn't there, which was a good sign. Dooku and Sören went down to his bedroom and got out a laundry basket, a duffel bag, and a couple of suitcases. Sören did what he could but with his ribs and shoulder it wasn't much, and he kept apologizing to Dooku after each bundle Dooku collected and packed, until Dooku finally glared at him and said, "Stop apologizing."

"Sorry," Sören mumbled, looking down.

After Sören's clothes were packed, Sören had another request. "There's a shoebox in my closet," he said, "and underneath that is a safe. I want both, please."

Dooku put them on top of the laundry basket.

On the way out Sören made a gesture to stop in the living room. He wandered over to his bookshelf, and pulled out a large hardbound book. Dooku wondered about it, and then he watched as Sören opened the book - it was hollow - and he produced three sketchpads and a box of professional-grade colored pencils.

Dooku wondered why Sören was hiding these things in a hollowed-out fake book. "Oh. Where's your other art supplies? Canvases, paints..."

Sören swallowed hard. "This is all I have now. Seth threw everything out."

Dooku pinched the bridge of his nose and swore under his breath. "That day he threw out your art..."

"...the supplies themselves were in the garbage bin. Not that I've been painting much anyway." Sören looked down.

Dooku felt horrible for not going through Sören's garbage bin when he salvaged the art on the curb. He knew that art supplies weren't the cheapest to come by depending on what they were, and even though Sören could afford it on a professor's salary that wasn't the point. It was the disrespect of the act, the violence of it. After having seen Sören's ceramics and paintings, which were exquisite, what Seth had done felt like blasphemy.

"Two of these sketchbooks are full," Sören said. "I keep them out of sentimental value 'cos I brought them from Iceland. They've got sketches of my family and some other stuff."

Dooku felt like hugging Sören, but did not.

Sören walked to the front door of Dooku's house and waited. From the front door of Sören's house Dooku wheeled the luggage, then came back for the duffel bag, then the basket. He let them in and wheeled in the luggage first, then carried in the duffel bag and then the basket last, setting them down in the living room. "Last night I went out and bought an air mattress," Dooku told Sören, "which is in the spare bedroom, but also the couch in the living room folds out to a bed. You have the choice of what would be more comfortable for you..."

"It would probably be easier for me to get up and down from the couch bed than something lower to the floor," Sören said, "but thank you for the air mattress anyway."

Dooku nodded. "I'll make the bed for you when you're ready. In the meantime, coffee? Tea?" He paused, remembering another thing he'd picked up for Sören last night. "Hot chocolate?"

Sören's face lit up. "Hot chocolate would be lovely, takk."

Dooku went to the kitchen to make hot chocolate. He brought out two mugs when it was ready. "This isn't the sort of thing I usually indulge in, but I thought you might like it so I picked some up -" He stopped in his tracks; Sören was sobbing. "Sören? What's wrong?"

Sören pointed to the boxes of his artwork, which were still by the door. "You. You saved those."

Dooku put the mugs of hot chocolate down on the coffee table, sat next to Sören on the couch, and reached out, gingerly pulling Sören over to lean on his shoulder. It wasn't quite a hug, but he was worried about aggravating Sören's injuries. Sören wept harder, and Dooku found himself tousling Sören's curls. Beowulf climbed up on the couch and onto Sören, purring, and Sören began stroking the cat.

"I don't know what to say," Sören croaked. "'Thank you' doesn't seem like enough. I can't believe you saved it..."

"Why the hell not? Your work is beautiful." You're beautiful.

"Seth didn't think so."

"Seth's soul is so ugly he can't appreciate your art," Dooku said. He reached for the hot chocolate on the coffee table, putting a mug in Sören's hands. "I'll admit, before we became friends, I was skeptical as to whether or not you had any talent, from what I saw of your car. Very gaudy, very nouveau riche -"

Sören gave him a filthy look. "You know that's classist as fuck, right?"

Dooku's mouth went dry, and his heart sank. He'd prided himself on being progressive - even as he knew many of his fellow progressives had blind spots... and here was one of his own. He'd never had a problem with poor people, but he came from the kind of old money that favored elegant simplicity and not flaunting wealth.

"God forbid people enjoy their money," Sören said between sips of his hot chocolate.

"Fair," Dooku conceded with a sigh, feeling a little ashamed of himself. "I'm sorry."

Sören patted him.

"Anyway," Dooku went on, "I judged a book by its cover, and realized I'd judged wrongly when I saw that bowl in your kitchen. And then when I found your art... it's exquisite. And it hurt my heart to see it being thrown away. I had to do something."

"I appreciate it. Though, I think Seth got to me so much I can't make art anymore. I took the sketchbooks in case it comes back, but." Sören sighed.

The mention of Seth got Dooku on edge again. "Sören," Dooku said, "Seth was living with you this past month, yes?"

Sören nodded.

"Was he on the lease?"

"No," Sören said.

"Does he have anywhere else to go? Is your house the only place he has?"

"He was living with a friend of his in Portland and I presume he'd be back there when I'm not around, but he has to know I'd be discharged from the hospital soon so it's anybody's guess when he'll be back at my place."

"You need to change your locks."

"I know." Sören cringed. "Like I said when shit went down in October, the landlord won't let me do it myself and he gets to it whenever -"

"Put me on the phone with your landlord. I want to have a few words with him."


_


Dooku was able to impress upon Sören's landlord that he needed the locks changed that night, and Dooku and Sören came out to watch the locksmith. Sören's landlord came by for a copy of the new keys, and then back in Dooku's house Sören hyperventilated, and Dooku guided him through some deep breaths to calm down.

"Sorry," Sören said again. "I think the locks really hit home for me that he's going to be gone from my life for good, and every time I feel any kind of relief anymore I start to panic, like it's the calm before the next storm..."

Dooku felt for him. "God, Sören."

"What did you even say to the guy to get him off his arse...?"

"I told him you were in danger from an ex stalking you -"

"Oh Jesus Christ, Nicolae, I don't like to get into my personal business with people -"

"It needed to be done. You may not like that blow to your pride, but it is not the time or the place for that. I had a feeling that if your landlord had a shred of decency he'd understand this had to be done sooner." Dooku pursed his lips. "I also told him if he didn't, he would need to look for a new tenant."

Sören scowled. "And where would I go?"

"You could stay here."

"I haven't even gotten through the first night yet, never mind me staying with you for months." Sören narrowed his eyes. "You hated me until not that long ago."

"I don't hate you now," Dooku said, his voice soft.

Sören looked down.

"We should figure out dinner," Dooku said. "I'd offer to take you out, but that would mean having to get in the car again..."

"Jæja, not really up for that."

"Shall we order out?"

"You good with pizza?"

Dooku didn't eat pizza, as a rule, but he decided to break his rule this evening. Sören placed the call, and they even ate in the living room together - another rule broken - though Dooku still ate his with a knife and fork, which made Sören laugh hysterically at the formality of it.

Beowulf begged, and Dooku got up to give the cat a treat from his pouch of cat treats. Sören gave him one too, and then Beowulf stole a piece of cheese anyway.

It was so good to hear Sören laugh again.

After dinner they watched Star Trek IV: The Voyage Home on DVD, with more hot chocolate. Halfway through the movie Sören took medication - a combination of psych meds and something for the pain of his injuries - and by the time the credits rolled Sören was dozing off a little. Dooku gently shook him. "I'll make your bed now."

Sören sat in the recliner as Dooku went to the linen closet and came back with sheets, blankets, and pillows. Sören gave Beowulf more pettings, talking to him in baby talk, and Dooku's heart melted. When the bed was all made Sören asked, "Nicolae? This is going to sound really, ah, I don't know, but I need help." He gestured to the flannel shirt he was wearing. "These were the clothes I had when I got in the accident and a nurse helped me get dressed, since my arm and everything."

Dooku tried to be clinical about it, but as he unbuttoned Sören's shirt his mind went into the gutter. Even moreso when the shirt was undone, exposing Sören's creamy flesh, and when the shirt was off and Dooku brought over a T-shirt for him, he tried not to stare and failed. The sleeve tattoos on Sören's arms went all the way up, the flames on one arm and ocean waves on the other leading to a pair of phoenixes on his back, one made of fire and one made of water, their tails entwined. And Sören had more piercings than the gauge plugs in his ears - his nipples were pierced, with steel captive bead rings. In the chill of the evening, Sören's nipples were hard.

Dooku never in his life thought he'd find tattoos and piercings attractive, but on Sören's body it was art. They were exotic, interesting... very interesting. Even with bandaged ribs, Sören was sexy. Dooku was starting to get hard. His hard-on throbbed when Sören took off his jeans and the outline of his boxer-briefs revealed a ring in the head of his cock.

"Can you do me one last favor?" Sören asked.

Dooku was almost hoping Sören would ask for sexual release, feverishly wanting to get down on his knees and...

What the hell is wrong with you, he could be your son.

"The shoebox in the basket, can you bring it over?"

Dooku did, and he watched as Sören opened the shoebox. Inside was Sören's Eeyore doll, and a pillowcase that looked like it had something in it. Sören took out Eeyore and hugged and rocked the doll with his good arm.

"Seth wanted me to get rid of it, and I hid it," Sören said.

Dooku's lust was now mingled with that heart-melting feeling at Sören being adorable, and a strong protective urge... and rage.

"I'm sorry," Sören said. "I know this is stupid -"

"It's not." Dooku thought about showing Sören his ancient bear Winston, and decided he'd do that another time. Sören needed his rest, and he needed to get out of here before he was tempted to do something stupid like invite Sören into his own bed. "Seth is stupid."

Sören sighed.

Dooku didn't quite have a plan yet on how to deal with him, but he knew it had to be done. He thought for a moment, getting the first bits of a plan together in his head. He needed information. "He's so stupid I can't believe he even manages to hold down a job. Where does he work, anyway?"

"Apple, in Portland."

"That's a bit of a daily commute then, when he's been coming here." Portland was roughly an hour and a half drive one way.

Sören nodded. "I never heard the end of it, either. He kept trying to get me to move to Portland, transfer out to working at the university there, but... no. I like to visit Portland but I don't want to live in a big city again. I like Corvallis."

The way Sören said the word "city" in his accent - see-tee - made Dooku melt again. This was dangerous. He was almost starting to regret asking Sören to stay with him. But not quite, really.

"So he works at Apple, then?"

Sören nodded.

Dooku put that information on file in his head. He knew Seth's last name only because, several months ago, a package had been accidentally delivered on his doorstep, with Seth's name on it. Of course, calling Apple to complain about their employee Seth Robinson might not work as intended. But he remembered what Seth's car looked like...

"I'll let you go to bed," Dooku said then. "Sleep well, Sören."

It took awhile for Dooku to get to sleep himself, keyed up. Planning. Waiting.


_


Dooku decided to take Friday off, even though as a rule he didn't take days off unless he was ill. But it was fine, as it was the last day of school before winter break, and it wasn't really an important class that day. He didn't tell Sören about this, leaving at his usual time for work... but instead of driving to the university in Corvallis as usual, he took the highway, heading north to Portland.

He went to Apple and just drove through the parking lot to see if he could spot Seth's car. He did, and smiled to himself. He had time to kill, so he'd be back.

He went to Powell's City of Books, making a mental note to go here with Sören when Sören was more on the mend. He had coffee upstairs in the cafeteria, and spent time browsing, at last making a purchase of a few Ursula K. LeGuin books he hadn't read yet, and on impulse he picked up an adult coloring book for Sören and a box of 120 Crayola crayons. He felt a little sheepish about it, but he wondered if it might help ease Sören back into making art again.

He went to the waterfront and sat for awhile, watching the river, collecting his thoughts. As much rage as he felt - and would need to draw upon later - he had to be calm about this, initially. One false move and things could go very, very badly.

When it got closer to the time, Dooku parked in an empty stall of Apple's lot not terribly far from Seth's car. He sat in his car and waited, watching for when Seth got out of the building.

As he saw Seth walk towards his car - chatting on his cell phone - Dooku got out, quietly. He heard Seth say "I gotta go, I'm about to drive," and hit End, still distracted. That served Dooku's plan well.

Dooku didn't like guns - so uncivilized - but he had a concealed carry permit, and he withdrew the revolver now and when Seth was at the driver's seat about to get in, Dooku stepped behind him and pressed the barrel of his gun against the small of Seth's back. Seth froze.

"You're coming with me," Dooku said.

Dooku began to march Seth towards his own car, keeping the gun low against Seth's back, his arm close to hide the gun. "If you scream, it will be the last sound you make," Dooku said through grit teeth. With the butt of the pistol he nudged Seth to the passenger's seat. "Get in."

Dooku started to drive, and Seth fidgeted uncomfortably in the passenger's seat. "Where are we going?" Seth asked.

Dooku wouldn't answer.

"Look, man, whatever he told you, he's lying..."

Dooku glared. "I saw you hit him. I've heard the things you've said to him. Don't play that game with me, you've already lost."

Seth took a deep breath. "This is kidnapping, and kidnapping is illegal..."

"What you've been doing to Sören the last while is plenty illegal." Dooku looked at the passenger door. "If you try to make a break and run for it, I'll shoot you and I'll put your prints on the gun to make it look like a suicide."

"You're going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"

"Not if you cooperate." But you'll wish I had.

Dooku drove out of Portland, heading on US Route 26, driving for awhile in stony silence. He knew where he was going, even though it had been some years - he'd been out here a few times with his fellow professor and former student Joaquin "Qui-Gon" Gonzalez, before Qui-Gon's wife Tahl had died in an accident and Qui-Gon had withdrawn into himself. They used to like to drive out to see the stars without much light pollution and talk about life, the universe, and everything. Dooku missed Qui-Gon now, though he saw him around campus. And this was certainly not an act that Qui-Gon would approve of.

He didn't need anyone's damn approval.

He drove slower, looking for the mouth to turn off, knowing it was closer. It was getting dark now. That was perfect.

When he found the mouth he turned, and drove slowly into the forest, on the dirt road. Seth was looking more and more nervous, and Dooku was fading out of calm and into rage. Finally he stopped the car, turned off the engine - leaving his headlights on - and produced his pistol again. "Get out," he said. "Hands behind your head where I can see them."

Seth did as he was told. Once Dooku was out of the car, still keeping the pistol on Seth, he said, "Up against the car."

Seth backed up to lean against the car.

"Hand me your cell phone and your wallet," Dooku said.

"You... what, no, come on -"

Dooku gestured with the pistol. "Do it."

Seth handed them over. As soon as they were in Dooku's possession, he backhanded Seth with the gun, and then hit him in the head with it again.

Dooku shoved Seth onto his knees and began pistol-whipping him, again and again. Making Seth's nose bleed. Breaking Seth's nose. Hearing him sob in agony. "Please, stop," Seth begged.

"Did you stop when Sören asked you to stop hitting him? I'm guessing not." Dooku kicked him in the stomach. When Seth went down on the ground Dooku began stomping on him again and again - he'd worn boots today. Seth let out a shriek when Dooku stepped on his balls, crushing them.

"Please," Seth choked out. "Please..."

With his boot, Dooku started to roll Seth over and once Seth was on his stomach Dooku resumed stomping on him, kicking him in the spine.

He watched as Seth lay there cowering. He wasn't done yet. He let Seth hear his finger on the trigger. "Take your clothes off."

"What."

"You heard me. Take your clothes off. Now."

Seth looked up with terror in his eyes. "What the fuck, man? You gonna rape me?"

Dooku sneered. "I wouldn't touch you if you were the last hole on Earth. Take your clothes off, or I'll start taking your fingers off."

Seth began to undress. Dooku was repulsed at the very sight of him - he was glad it was dark now, what he could see with his headlights made him physically nauseated. Seth wasn't an ugly man, apart from his now-broken nose that was still bleeding, but Seth himself was an ugly person, on the inside, and that made him hideous to Dooku. Still, there was a method to his madness. When Seth was down to his underwear and socks, he gave Dooku a pleading look.

"No," Dooku said. "All of it. Now."

"You've got to be shitting me -"

"Now." Dooku came closer, pointing the gun between Seth's eyes.

Seth peeled off his underwear, and at last his socks.

Dooku took Seth's shoes and clothing and threw it in the back seat of his car. Then he took a few photos of Seth with his cell phone camera... before hitting him in the face with his pistol again. Dooku forced Seth back onto his knees, pistol-whipped him some more, kicked him to the ground, and kicked him while he was down. He watched as Seth spat out his two front teeth, sobbing helplessly.

"This is what you're going to do now," Dooku said. "Presuming you can make it out of here alive tonight and not die of hypothermia, you're going to go back to Portland, get your things, and leave town. Leave this part of the state altogether, so Sören can't run into you. You have three days, and I'll be checking to make sure that you did. If you don't... I have a group of friends who will be coming for you." They were more acquaintances than friends, but that hardly mattered right now - what mattered was they would be glad to rough up Seth even more if paid well. "What I did here now will look like a kindness when they're through with you, presuming you survive. And if you go to the police about me, I have an alibi, and it will end up very bad for you, one way or the other, you'll be the one going to jail. The only reason why I'm not killing you tonight is because death is too good for you. I want you to have to live with the trauma of what happened to you, the way Sören has to live with the trauma of what happened to him. You see, Seth, you may think you're a big, bad predator, but there are always bigger, badder predators on the food chain, and you hurt someone I care for and have attracted the attention of a very big, very bad predator who has the favor of even bigger and badder predators than myself and will set them upon you if you don't do as I say. If you don't leave town, and if you don't leave Sören alone, permanently, you're going to hurt, worse than you are now. So be a good boy and do as you're told."

Dooku got in the car then - locking the doors as soon as he did, so Seth couldn't try to get inside. It was going to be a very cold night tonight, temperatures expected to drop into the teens Fahrenheit. It was already quite cold. Dooku put his gun away and flexed his fingers in their warm gloves.

Seth - naked, beaten, bleeding - cried out as Dooku's Jaguar pulled out and back onto the dirt road, and Dooku smiled to himself, laughing when he got back on the highway.

The laughter faded quickly, as he drove again. Beating Seth had been the easy part. Helping Sören heal... trying to make him feel safe again... that would be much harder.

chapter 14 | return to Under The Rose | return to index