Heads up! This is an alternative universe of SVU, and I don't own the real life series.

In this world, Carisi was engaged when he was 19 years old to a British women named, Vanessa Blackburn. They had a son together, but called off the engagement. They had a joint custody of their son Christopher.

I won't say anything more till you read the first chapter. A profile of my OC Christopher is posted on my profile, if you want to know more about him.

Again, this is an alternative universe, what I say goes in here.

With that said, enjoy the first chapter!

Chapter 1 - Undercover

"You'll need something for that," said the man behind the counter. He was in the process of cleaning Waterford crystal glasses with the Union Jack flag rag, cleaning out the parched alcohol substances that shriveled out during the night; as expected from karaoke night at Baxers'.

A large bar with twinkling light bulbs hanging below the glass ceiling, the design of the room looked like the average bars in any city, but the polished ebony wood said otherwise. The booths by the sealed shut windows were covered in red and yellow chenille striped patterns at the top, while the lower half was made from black patent leather. In between was a mahogany wooden table covered in glass interior. The stools by the bar were covered in red leather. Where now, only one person was occupied with a regular glass of water.

It was little past 10:15, and the large crowd had already died down to only a handful of people.

"I said, you'll need something for that, kid." The bartender repeated looking at his right hand that had dark solid red liquid that was dripping from his right wrist. Taking a better look of the kid, he seemed to be about in his late teens, but that babyface makes it hard to guess. He was wearing a dark grey wool British Ivy Cap, that complimented with the grey long sleeve collar shirt, and black tie he had underneath the dark Melton wool-blend peacoat with six buttons on it. His hair was short and light brown, his skin was pale white, and his eyes were dark brown. The average look most British teenagers would have. But this one seemed different somehow?

"Hey, are you listening to me?" The bartender waved the rag he was holding to his face for him to look at him.

The boy shifted his eyes, and head towards him, no change in his bored facial expression. "My apologies, you were saying?" He spoke in a thick British accent.

"Can I get you something for your hand there, kid? It's been bleeding for a couple of minutes." He pointed with his thick right index finger.

The boy simply looked down at his wrist as he held it towards his face. Still no reaction from him.

"Hmm? I guess I opened the wound." He grabbed for his napkin, dipped it on his drink and placed it on his wrist.

"Hold on, I got a first aid kit here." The bartender reached underneath the counter table and dropped a white box in front of him.

"Thanks." The boy replied opening the box. His eyes take a quick glance at the bartender, seeing the older man has his back turned, the boy, spots a blue curvy dragon tattoo, with the initials J.X.T at the back of his neck. The boy then takes out three capsules out from the inside of his coat, filling them with three different pills from the small capsules labeled, ALEVE, TYLENOL, and Advil. He then quickly places everything back where he found them, and takes out a bandage tape.

"You know how you got that cut, kid?" The bartender turned around cleaning more cups.

"Work." He replied tying the white bandage strip around his wrist.

"What kind of work?"

"Just work." He finishes treating his wound and takes out his wallet to place fifty pounds on the counter. He puts on his black leather gloves as he gets up from his seat.

"Hey, that water was only a pound kid."

"Consider it a tip." He begins to walk away towards the exit, with one hand on the handle, he takes one look back at the bartender "And by the way, my name's not 'kid', it's Christopher. Just Christopher."

"Christopher? Why do I think that name might be important?" He tilts his head forward towards the ceiling as he kept repeating his name softly, "Christopher? That kid's weird, but there's something off about him, but I can't think what." He then closed his eyelids. "Hmm, I think there's a famous person in London who has that name?" He eventually gives up trying and goes back to work.

Outside the bar, the bright light reflecting off the waxing gibbous moon was not strong enough to overcome the intensive lights the city of London has to offer. People dressed nice and cozy from top to bottom for the early winter weather. The snow was fluttering down softly, aided by the soft wind coming from the northeast area where River Thames was.

Christopher got out of his black Lincoln and to make his way to Westminster Bridge. He started to think back to his conversation earlier this morning.

It was 9:39AM at the 18th precinct, the location of the Westminster's Intelligence unit. An elite squad composed of eight highly skilled detectives, trained in both mind and field.

The unit's squad room was a large modern business room. The walls were painted white, with the London PD signs, photographs of several past detectives and officers, and badges of the ones who lost their lives in the line of duty.

Christopher was sitting at his large mahogany desk looking through the recent case files of the deaths of eighteen men and women. The ages ranging from 23 to 45, and all being found with the same M.O. He held up a photograph of one of the victims.

High blood alcohol, frostbite ranging from their fingertips to their toes, bloodshot eyes, their pupils dilated, and in the color of white.

He held his left knuckles towards his mouth as he stared deeply into the photograph.

"How many days as it already been?" A deep male voice interrupted Christopher's mind.

He looked up and saw a tall man standing at 6'5, wearing a black notch suit, a light blue-collar shirt, and a black and blue striped tie. He was bald, had pale white skin, had a couple of wrinkles and worry lines on his face, and had black-grey hair stubbles along his jaw line.

"Has it been four days? Five?" The male placed his hands in his coat pocket.

"Six, Captain." Christopher placed the photograph down, and stood up straight. "At the moment, our only lead is that each of these victims all purchased a drink at least 24 hours before their death. Given the area each victim was found in, the number of bars located here and there, is over 20, including small ones."

"Have you and your partner been able to narrow it down?"

"Bloodworth and I are here going over each of the victim's records while the rest of the squad are out asking people if they've seen any of the victims recently in the area. Fowler and Atwood are down on 42nd street, Chamberlain and Crawford with 35th street, and Duke and Forrest are checking all street cams within the 80-meter radius."

"I think we finally have a lead with the bar." A female voice traveled across the room.

Christopher turned to face his partner, Charlotte Bloodworth. She had long blonde hair, blue eyes, pale white skin, and was dressed in a black blouse, black pants, and ankle boots. She had an elegant body figure, standing tall at 5'8, and an attractive luring face that most men would fall for.

"What did you find out, Bloodworth?" Christopher stood up from his seat as he approached her.

Charlotte motioned with her hands to the white board that was covered with every single clue, and information about the case. Photographs of the victims, places they were found in, etc.

"The latest victim, Sarah Foss, was found with this receipt in her pocket."

Her partner looked closely at the receipt. "It's from Ford's Past. That's an antic shop down on Sawyer Lane. There's only on bar on that street. Baxers'." He scoffed at himself. "Of course, that's 10 miles down where she was found. It also isn't that far away from the other victims as well."

"Alright then." They both turned around to face their captain.

"You two, find out who runs that bar, and everything you can regarding that street. All police reports, any rumors, someone down there must know something."

"Will do sir." Charlotte nodded.

Two hours has passed by, when Charlotte appeared by her partner's desk, handing him a folder.

"The owner of Baxers' is a man named William Evans, he was arrested back in 2008 for drug dealing. He was released three years later and was on patrol for two years. He managed to open a bar that seem high class to the customers. And according to customers, they remembered seeing each of these victims attending his bar the night getting rat arsed. And each of them were given these drug medicines before they left the night." She placed three pictures of the brand names on his desk.

"Evans huh?" Christopher looked at Williams' photographs. His hazel colored pupils widen, and his facial appearance showed signs of disturbance. Williams Evans had short black hair, brown eyes, and heavy in size…but that wasn't the reason for the young detective's reaction.

"That tattoo and initials." He said softly.

"Have you seen it before? Does it have meaning?" The blonde looked intrigued.

Christopher appeared to be in deep thought before opening his mouth. "This tattoo, I've seen this before, in an email my father sent me a few days before these incidents started to happen. A sex trafficking ring of missing teenage girls being transported from New York to the UK. And there's a man who has this same tattoo, on his left bicep. They weren't able to see his face, but they do know he's a part of this ring. The girls that were rescued don't know his name either. They described him to be dirty blonde-haired, brown eyed, around 6 feet tall, and has this tattoo." He lowered the photograph.

"Are you trying to say that this case, is somehow related to the case your father is currently investigating?"

"Perhaps." He slowly turned his head to face her with an intellectual look. "But, this case might be bigger than we previously thought it was from the start."

"Will you be heading back to your homeland then?"

He shook his head. "Our main object here is to arrest the person responsible for these murders. And I took an oath to protect and serve my country, in both places. I won't leave till I've finish what I started."

Charlotte closed her eyes snickered, "I've should have known. After all, you are your parent's child. A Carisi, and Blackburn in one." She looked back up at him. "As I recalled, you're good at faking injuries, more specifically, blood."

"Yeah, why?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Let's first talk to our commanding officer before going anywhere further."

Back in the present time, a dark long haired brunette woman, dressed in a grey waistcoat long sleeve tweed winter coat, black pants tucked within her heeled black boots, was standing underneath a lamp post on the Westminster Bridge. A perfect view of Big Ben and the Westminster Pier.

She turned her face towards the west direction on her left to avoid the cold breeze. At the corner of her eye, she saw a familiar person walking towards her.

"I was beginning to wonder when you would show up, detective." Not taking her eyes off the urban sight before her.

"My apologies," Christopher leaned his back against the lamp post with arms crossed in front of his chest. "I had to make sure I had his full attention and didn't see I faked the injury." He reached into his coat for plastic bag marked, 'EVIDENCE'. Inside were the three capsules.

"Just like my partner said, the bartender, William Evans, is part of the group that's smuggling illegal Class A drugs to the UK in trade for the sex trafficking ring connecting to the one in New York City. I just came back from the lab, and reports shows the same compound ingredients that were used to kill those eighteen victims that came from that bar. He hid it inside medicine pills that were used to treat headaches, pain medication, and dehydration. My guess is those people, were nothing, but mere test subjects. I only managed to take a sample portion of what was in the first aid kit without him knowing." He handed her the bag.

The woman looked at the pills contained in the bag, nodded then tucked it in her coat pocket. "Looks like Bloodworth was right to choose you for this assignment, detective. You always have a way to sneak things in and out. As expected from someone who happens to the son of two detectives from two countries. More specially, a Blackburn." She leered.

"Ah yes, the only child of a broken engagement between an American detective and a British detective, or should I say, Lieutenant now." He raised an eyebrow at her. "Spent his early teenager years as a detective, in two cities that are 3,459 miles away from each other." A small white cloud came out of his mouth, and his nose and cheeks started to a lighter shade of pink. "In all honesty, why is it that I'm stuck with all the hard work within the departments of two different countries?" He turned to face her.

"As I recalled, it's because you wanted to be someone who can be Albert Einstein, James Bond, and Sherlock Holmes all at once back when you were a child I believe."

"Best five years of my life is all I can say, and here I am, at 16." Christopher looked up at the night winter sky. "Perhaps in the two years when I finally become a man, father can finally let me drive his Mustang, and you can let me drive your Ferrari."

She chuckled as she turned to face him. "But nonetheless, your father and I are proud of you."

He turned to his side and gave her a broad grin then nodded, "Thanks, mother." He leaned forward and looked at his Omega watch, '12:13 AM'.

"I believe the party starts at 12:30 down at Camberwell. I believe about 20,000 grams of Class A drugs are stored down there, along with only a handful of criminals who have purchased a large collection of weapons that our military personal are experienced with. The plan is to transport those items to Bexley. I've already sent word to my squad and the department to head down there along with the SWAT team. As well to Bexley as we speak."

"Then why aren't you joining in then?" She teased.

"I thought it would be best for me to see you one last time before I leave for New York tomorrow to be with father now, for the next six months. Apparently, the states are in need of my assistants with this ring, that connects both the American and British natives."

"As expected from you, I should have known." She moved from her spot to hug her son, savoring the last few squeezes he gave her. She placed her chin on his shoulder, realizing how much he grew since he came back to London, back in mid-June, six months ago.

"Take care of yourself, love." She held her son's face to take one last good look of him in person before kissing his forehead. "You, and your family over there."

"I will, mother. I'll see you later." He gave her one last smile before walking away, the snow starting to get heavier.

Through the distance, a dark figure was watching the entire scene between thick white trees. He was wearing a heavy grey winter coat, a black line watch cap, blue jeans, and brown hiking boots. He held a Canon DLSR camera taking a few more shots.

"Now I remember why that name was important. He's that famous kid detective who was born into the Blackburn family. The wealthiest and most power family in all of England! Detective Christopher Carisi-Blackburn. If I remember correctly, he's that child prodigy kid with the IQ over 200. He works for the fuzz here, and in New York. And he's related to…." He gulped. "Bloody hell! This is bad. I better warn the others." The dark figure himself disappeared into the snow, the only visible thing that can be seen from him, was that blue curvy dragon tattoo with the initials J.X.T at the back of his neck.

Unknowingly to him, someone was watching him as well. That person pulled out her walkie, "Evans took the bait just like you said, Christopher. Time for phase 3."

"I told you he would have come looking for me once he found out who I was. There's only one person in this world whose leaves you with a mysterious vide, and that guy, is the world's youngest detective in history." Christopher talked through the small mic inside his coat collar.

"Becoming cocky, now are we? You are at that age, kid."

"And you people here wonder why I prefer working in NYPD with my father and step mother. At least over there, I'm treated with more respect." He walked towards his car. "Now, like how we planned. I'll leave phase 3 to you, Bloodworth." He smirked opening the back door of his car. "Try and go easy on them, I don't like doing paper work." He took off his hat and jacket, in favor of putting on his London PD bullet proof vest, and a large black coat with the words, 'London PD Intelligence Unit' printed on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Keep it clean."

"And that's why we're partners." Christopher got into the driver seat and took off.

How you guys enjoyed the first chapter! Review and tell me what you think about the story. I know, everyone has their opinions, whether they like it or hate or have problems with my writing. I know, there are a couple a grammar mistakes throughout the story here and there. But what's more important is to enjoy reading a good story!