Disclaimer: I don't own the Dukes of Hazzard, not making any money, just cheap thrills.
Warnings: Slash, Angst, Non-Con, BDSM
Rosco stalked into the jail, damn that birdwatcher! Everything had been perfect, for him anyway, and then some damn busybody had to go and interfere. Yesterday had been a rotten day, the pictures that man had taken of him and Bo had ruined everything. Well, he supposed it wasn't a complete loss, at least he'd gotten the evidence Bo could have used against him, destroying it on his way back to the jail.
He wanted that boy back under his control, and by god he would find a way to make it happen. First though, he had an itch he needed to satisfy. In the course of his research, he had come across the name of an underground club which specialized in the stuff he liked. The problem was, while he could remember the name, he couldn't remember the address. Hoping that he would be able to find something in the Atlanta phone book, he headed to the cabinet they kept it in. "Damn it Enos," he cursed when he saw the empty drawer. "Where the hell did you put it, you dipstick?" he asked himself as he scanned the room. Moving to another cabinet, he began what would prove to be a fruitless search. "The library," he grinned. "They'll have a copy," he muttered to himself as he left the jail. Hurrying across the street and down the block, he soon arrived at the Hazzard County Library. Stepping inside, he was surprised to find Miss Lewis missing from the front desk. Quietly walking through the small building, he soon found her in the children's section, reading a story to the little ones.
"And then the Queen looked at the little man and asked him, Is your name Rumplestiltskin?" Miss Lewis read.
Rosco gasped, falling back against the cart of books he had been standing in front of. "Sorry, I, uh, tripped," he stuttered an apology.
"Are you okay Sheriff?" Miss Lewis asked.
"I'm, uh, fine Miss Lewis...I just tripped...I'll, uh, see you later." Turning around, he stumbled from the quiet building, his mind reeling under the bombardment of memories. Atlanta, the police seminar, somebody in his room, Bert Samuels, hypnotized, raping...oh god, I raped Bo Duke...turned him into...oh my god, what have I done? Rosco's knees buckled.
Cooter saw Rosco come out of the library, looking like he'd just seen a ghost. Wondering what in the library could have the sheriff that upset, he watched him curiously. "Rosco!" he yelled as he ran across the street. Kneeling next to the sheriff, he put a hand on the older man's shoulder; the flinch surprising him. "You okay Rosco?"
"Cooter?" Rosco asked in a dazed voice. Looking around, he noticed the gathering crowd, all of them gawking at him. Pulling together what dignity he had, he placed a hand on the mechanic's shoulder and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm fine Cooter."
"Sure ya are Rosco," Cooter scoffed. "Men that are fine always fall down for no reason."
"I tripped, that's all," Rosco lied.
Cooter eyed him doubtfully, he'd seen the fall and it sure didn't look like that to him. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided if Rosco wanted to deny he had a problem it wasn't any of his business. "Well if you're sure you're okay, I got work to do."
"I'm sure, thanks Cooter," Rosco thanked him, giving the other man a shaky smile. The excitement over, the crowd dispersed and the sheriff made his way back to the jail. What was he going to do now? he asked himself as he collapsed into his chair.
"Rosco, what are you doing in here?" Boss demanded. "Shouldn't you be out on patrol?"
"I don't feel so good Boss," Rosco whined.
"Hmmm," Boss eyed him speculatively. "You do look a might peaked."
"I feel peaked," Rosco mumbled.
"Fresh air would probably help, so you get on out there and start patrolling," Boss ordered. "I don't pay you to feel peaked."
"You don't hardly pay me anyway," Rosco mumbled under his breath as he walked out of the office. Pulling away from the courthouse, he drove out of town with no idea of where he was going. He drove aimlessly for more than an hour, until driven by morbid curiosity he headed for the old sawmill. Parking his car, he walked inside. The moment he walked in the door, memories assailed him; he felt ill. He would never have imagined he could do such things to another human being, especially Bo. Moaning miserably, Rosco wished he could blame the whole thing on Bert, but he knew that would be a lie. It was bad enough what he'd done to Bo and he knew it could never be made right, but he wasn't going to make it worse by lying to himself or the boy. "I know what I have to do, but first I've got to see him."
Bo sat at the picnic table, staring at nothing. A hand on his shoulder made him jump, "Luke," he whispered in relief. For a second he'd thought it was Rosco.
Luke looked at him in concern, "You okay Bo?"
"Yeah," Bo softly replied.
Luke wrapped an arm around him, "You don't sound very convincing."
"I know, I'm just trying to figure out how to tell Uncle Jesse and Daisy."
"You gonna tell them today?"
Bo shrugged, "I was thinking about it. I don't want Rosco to be able to do this to somebody else, the sooner I turn him in the better."
"Bo, there's something I think you may need to do before you go to the State police." Licking his lips, Luke nervously broached the subject with his cousin. "Ya should probably go see Doc Appleby."
"Doc? Why, do I need to see him, I ain't sick."
"Bo," Luke began, keeping his voice soft and gentle, "he can check you out, gather evidence for the case."
Bo paled, "Oh God," he moaned. Jumping up from the table, he raced to the side of the house, retching into the bushes.
Luke pounded his fist against the table, cursing Rosco for what he'd done to his cousin. "I'm sorry Bo, if I could save you from it I would," he apologized when his cousin returned.
Bo nodded, "I know Luke, but ya can't. I just didn't think about needing to do tha..." he trailed off as a familiar car came barreling up the drive.
"Go in the house Bo," Luke ordered. Standing up, he faced the driveway with murder in his eyes.