The 16th Precinct, Manhatten, 10:45PM

Detective Odafin Tutuola was finishing a report when his cell phone rang. Suspecting his son Ken, with whom he had a breakfast date tomorrow, he answered with a casual "What up?"

Nearby, Detective Sergeant John Munch worked quietly on his files. As always, his mind was intensely focused on his own work. However, certain sounds could engage his attention. For example, his partner's abrupt rising caused him to look up from his computer. And he immediately became concerned by what his various senses perceived.

Fin's face was fallen almost to the point of tears. Incrediblely, his voice was steady and gently reassuring. "All right, kid, take it easy, it's gonna be okay. Now, do you know where you're at?...Is there a ladies clothing store across the---yeah, that's the one; I know where you're at. Listen, I'm going to call a black and white unit to pick you up and get you to the hospital, and I'll meet you there, OK?...No, I'm not going tell anyone. Don't worry about that. You just hang in there, all right?...Don't hesitate to call me back if you feel you have to."

"Fin, is everything OK?" Munch asked, though he knew the answer to his question.

"No, and I got to go, now!" He sprinted out of the door, phone open.

Sighing, Munch shook his head in sympathy. It's gotta be his son. Blast! Just as they were reconciling again!

Mercy General Hospital, 10 minutes later

Fin hurried up to the uniformed officer standing outside of the exam room. A tall, burly dark-haired man, he was standing in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest, when the detective flashed his badge and identified himself. Unfolding his arms, the patrol cop quickly and discretely gave the unfortunate details.

"He lurched over as soon as Pat---my partner---entered the alley with the blanket," he explained.

"What do you mean, 'lurched?!' Was he injured?!" Fin's brow furrowed deeply.

A sigh accompanied the uniform's grim nod. "Black eye, bloody lip and nose, whelts on his legs, hurt ribs---he says they were hurting him---but he wants you to be there with him."

"Excuse me!"

Both men looked up as a slim, middle-aged man in scrubs approached. "I'm Dr. Connally. Please tell me you're 'Detective Fin.'"

"I am." He showed his badge. "Detective Odafin Tutuola. They call me 'Fin.'"

"Fine," the physican said, relaxing. "He's going to need, along with everything else, X-rays of his thorax. I wanted start the treatment ASAP. But he insists on having you with him. Right now, the other officer's inside with him, but...well, let's go and help him."

As he entered the room, Fin forced himself to hide his horror and outrage. I gotta keep it together, or he's gonna lose it. And we can't afford that! He approached the exam table, exchanging a quick nod with the other uniform, who stepped back as Tutuola arrived at the young male's side. "Hey, Richard," he said gently. "I'm here for you, kid."

Author's note: A famous writer stated in a book that a story just comes to you. That's what happened here. Although it seems familiar, it's not the same story as "The Most Bitter Blow." Also, this story occurs sometime before the events of the premiere of this season's "Law & Order: Criminal Intent."