The Dogs Of War: Chapter 8

After raining all week, the weekend was sunny, though with it being mid-October, the temperatures were starting to cool. The rose bushes in Dooku's front yard were still blooming for now - Dooku knew that they would be gone soon, and he spent some time on Sunday morning admiring his roses while he could, taking two clippings of the last bloom of the year to press.

In the afternoon he heard loud music coming from Sören's yard again - 90s alternative rock rather than rap; Dooku already knew from Seth's car parked outside Sören's house that Seth was over. It was still daylight and they weren't technically breaking any laws but Dooku was annoyed by the volume anyway, and he came out to the yard to approach the small picket fence separating their yards, intending to ask them to keep it down.

Sören was grilling outside. It was past the kind of weather that most Americans would want to barbecue in, but Dooku imagined that to an Icelander this was really nothing. Seth was sitting in a lawn chair with his feet out and Sören was waiting on him, bringing him a drink rather than Seth getting it himself. Something about that annoyed Dooku, most of all the way Sören seemed on edge and timid. It was a marked change from when Sören had been alone outdoors playing his music loudly, his posture strong and defiant. Sören's eyes were downcast as well, his head drooping.

Now, as Sören brought Seth a drink, Seth couldn't resist a jab. "You sure took your sweet time."

"As you might have noticed, I was cooking."

"Yeah, and you could have left that for a few seconds to hurry your ass over here." Seth took a sip of the drink Sören brought him - a red-purplish brown beverage with ice in it. He made a face. "Blah, this raspberry iced tea isn't sweet enough." He handed his glass back to Sören. "Needs more sugar."

Sören took the glass with a sigh.

Dooku's nostrils flared. He felt like yelling he's not your slave across the yard, but held back.

"Well?" Seth gave Sören a little shove. "Let's go."

Sören jumped, flinching - Dooku winced as well - and Sören ended up dropping the glass. It landed on Seth, the contents spilling all over Seth's white T-shirt and khakis. That would leave a stain. Dooku bit back a smirk. If anyone deserved to have clothing ruined, it was Seth Robinson.

His amusement quickly faded remembering how Sören had been startled, and now there was fury on Seth's face, finally getting up. Sören scooted back. "You," Seth rasped. "You did this on purpose, you little shit."

"I didn't. I got nervous when you pushed me, I dropped it -" Sören was shaking.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, you little bitch. YOU DROPPED THIS ON PURPOSE! I'll never be able to get these stains out, YOU KNOW HOW MUCH THESE CLOTHES COST ME?" Seth's fists clenched. "GOD! You fucking moron!"

Dooku blinked slowly, every muscle in his body tensing, like he was ready to spring.

"Seth, please." Sören tried to back away, eyes wide with terror, full lips parted. "I'm sorry. I'll... I'll pay to have them replaced, it was an accident -"

"You're a fucking accident!" With that, Seth grabbed Sören by the tail of his flannel shirt and backhanded him. Sören dropped to his knees, holding his face, and Seth punched him.

Something in Dooku went off like a nuke. Not thinking about it, just feeling, Dooku stepped over the picket fence, and marched over to Seth. "Why, you little -"

"Oh, look what the cat dragged in. You think you're tough, Grandpa?" Seth made a "come here" gesture. "Come and get it -"

What Seth didn't know - what most people didn't know - was that a few times a month Dooku had Krav Maga classes, which he'd started taking several years ago in case things got spicy with the anti-fascist work he did. Here and now, was an oppressor of another sort.

He decked Seth in the face, hard enough to drop him, then he picked Seth up, chokeslammed him against the wall next to the back door, and punched him in the face again, then in the stomach, then kneed Seth in the groin. When he released his grip on Seth, Seth slid down the wall, trembling.

Dooku took a few steps back, breathing hard, shaking with fury. He wanted to do so much more than that, but he knew that anything more would leave a mess that would be bad for Sören.

Dooku spat at Seth. "Ești o bucată de rahat fără valoare," he said. He had not sworn in his parents' native tongue in years, that was how far gone he was in his rage now.

Seth moaned, and Dooku could see the fear in his eyes. Dooku smiled - a predatory smile.

"If you call the police on me," Dooku warned him, "I'm a sixty-seven-year-old college professor, nobody is going to believe that I would attack you unprovoked... and I'll tell them you were attacking Sören. Which isn't a lie. So I wouldn't, if I were you."

He waited, his arms folded. After Seth had been laying there for awhile, he managed to get up - wincing, moaning in pain. He gave Dooku a contemptuous glare, though there was still fear in his eyes. Dooku waited, to see if Seth was going to go after him or Sören. Seth went inside.

"Oh shit, the food is burning." Sören ran to the grill and turned it off. He started to cry at the charred, ruined food. "Fuck, I can't do anything right -"

Dooku came over to Sören and gently put a hand on his shoulder. He realized when Sören flinched that he probably should have asked first, but then Sören relaxed, taking deep breaths, leaning into his touch. Dooku tilted Sören's face to his and looked into his eyes. Then Dooku examined the side of Sören's face where Seth had hit him.

Dooku and Sören both turned their heads as they heard the roaring engine and screech of a car tearing out of the front of Sören's house. Sören fell apart then, crying.

Dooku led Sören inside. Dooku had never been inside Sören's house. The kitchen was done in tile counters and a linoleum floor, ivory and cream, warm buttery yellow and soft golds predominating, evocative of sunshine. Sören had an oak wooden table and chairs that matched the wood of his cupboards, and there was a beautiful ceramic bowl on his kitchen table, growing a potted cactus in sand - a purple variety of dwarf prickly pear - with a spiraling rock arrangement around it. Dooku admired the bands of color of the bowl - reminiscent of a sunset - as he walked to Sören's pale beige fridge and freezer, taking out a tray of ice. "Do you have plastic sandwich bags? Where do you keep them?"

"Second drawer down next to the stove," Sören mumbled, looking down.

Dooku put ice in a plastic bag and pressed it into Sören's hand, who muttered "takk" before holding the makeshift ice pack to his face. Dooku's gaze went back and forth between Sören and the bowl of cactus.

"You like that?" Sören asked, noticing Dooku noticing the bowl.

"I do." Dooku nodded.

"I made that bowl," Sören said softly.

Dooku's breath hitched. He felt a strange feeling in his stomach, his pulse racing again. It was a little too warm in the kitchen suddenly. "It's beautiful," Dooku said sincerely, his voice husky.

"I have other pottery around the house, that I made. I'd show you if I wasn't so..."

"I understand." Dooku nodded. "Sometime, you can give me the tour."

"Sometime." Sören nodded. He looked down. "At least you liked it. Seth kept telling me to get rid of it -"

"You should get rid of him." Dooku's eyes narrowed.

Wordlessly, Sören stepped into the living room, then walked down his hall to what Dooku presumed was the bedroom, and finally Sören came back. "He took the duffel bag he brought with him for the weekend so I think he's gone." Sören looked down again.

"I hope it's for good." Dooku folded his arms. "This isn't the first time he hit you, is it?"

Sören frowned and shook his head. "No."

Dooku exhaled sharply. He had been afraid of that. "When I intervened that time, told him to show some respect and you said later that made it worse..."

Sören nodded, looking away. "He hit me." He laughed bitterly. "He said I was flirting with you. I don't even know you."

Even if Sören had been, Dooku found he wasn't bothered by that idea at all - though he felt like he was well past the age anyone would find him attractive. "I'm sorry that he hit you after that."

"I know you meant well." Sören looked down.

"Sören..." Dooku felt strange about offering this, since he still didn't know Sören well, but he needed to offer some kind of comfort. "I don't know what your plans are, after what happened out there with the grill, but you're welcome to come over and have dinner with me..."

Sören shook his head. "I don't want to impose -"

"You wouldn't be imposing."

"...and I... I need to be alone right now. I'm not very good company when I'm like this." Sören looked away.

Dooku sighed. He was disappointed, but he surely did understand the need for space in deep emotional upset. "All right. If you change your mind, as you know I'm right next door -"

"Jæja."

"And if he comes back..." Dooku set his jaw. "I don't care what time of night it is. You come get me immediately. I'll be home. I don't want you to be alone with that, especially if he's angry with me and he decides to take it out on you."

Sören nodded. "OK."

"Promise me, Sören." Dooku's voice raised slightly - he felt bad about it, not wanting to scare the man, but there was a sense of urgency. He didn't want Sören to get attacked again, or worse...

"I promise."

"Do you want me to go now?" Dooku heard a little break in his voice. He didn't want to - he felt the urge to just stay, cook for Sören, try to get his mind off things with a movie or something...

"Jæja. It's not personal. I just... I can't people right now, after this. I need to shut down for awhile." Sören closed his eyes and when he opened them, his dark eyes sparkled with tears. It tore at Dooku's heart. "I'm so fucking ashamed -"

"Sören, you did nothing wrong. He is the one at fault here."

"I do everything wrong," Sören said, and started walking away. Before he could go away completely though, he said, "Thank you, again, for..."

"No need to thank me." Dooku gave a small, polite wave. "It was the right thing to do."

With that, he left out the back door of Sören's house, and instead of walking across the yard over the picket fence, he walked along the side of his house, taking a last look in the window at Sören, looking so defeated as he made his way into the living room, shoulders down... starting to sob. It was all Dooku could do to not go back in, march into Sören's home, and take Sören into his arms.

Dooku swallowed hard, his own eyes tearing up. He hoped this was the last time he'd have to step in with Seth. He hoped Sören would be well and truly done now. And yet, Seth had hit him before and Sören had said himself he'd tried to end it and Seth kept coming back.

He ached for Sören... and he was afraid of what might happen next.

chapter 9 | return to Under The Rose | return to index