Author's Notes: This story contains ElliotxMunch. If you don't like it or homosexuality, then I'd advise not to read.
I have no knowledge of New York whatsoever, so I'm just throwing streets out there and places I recognize; it's not going to be accurate.
Also, later on this will reference Oz a little bit, but you don't need to have watched it to know what's going on... you'll just figure things out faster. Having said that, this story also doesn't completely follow canon but I've tried to make it as close as possible.
Liv is noticably absent from most of the story, mostly because I wanted this to focus on Elliot and Munch as a team rather than Olivia. There's plenty of ExO if you're looking for that.
You may view my past with Kathy as bashing- it really isn't. She's a wonderful wife for Elliot. Yeah, I'm one of those people.
All characters that aren't SVU are mine. If you want to use them, please ask my permission first.
Thanks, and please R&R!
Chapter One: Everyone's upset
Donuts. Typical cop food. I couldn't resist smiling to myself, but it wasn't entirely my fault, either. I set the box down on my desk and waited for the precinct to come at them like a pack of hungry wolves. "How come the guy with five kids to support has to buy all of you breakfast for dinner?"
"Because, it's tradition," Olivia smiled, reaching over her desk to mine. She grabbed one of the plain ones, always one to watch her figure.
"Besides," Munch said to me as he walked over, "I always make you coffee." He handed me the styrofoam cup and I smiled at him. Still warm, freshly brewed, not the usual ten times reheated crap we usually drank because we were working 3 days straight. I sighed after taking a long sip, waiting for the caffiene to wake me up. For a moment everything felt blissful, but this fairytale cop world... reminded me of my days as a patrolman. Sure, you saw homicides and dead babies now and then, but not nearly as often and not anything nearly as gruesome as what I saw here on a daily basis. I viewed us as a group of outcasts with no one to go to and I felt like an outcast in here now and again. I had been the only one with a stable family...
Everyone was looking at me. I smiled, laughed it off. Only two people here knew what was going on. As I sat down I beat myself up having lied to Kathy. What else could I do? I knew she wouldn't understand and she was the most understanding woman I've ever known. She took my truth to her difficult. I mean, wouldn't you if your husband of almost twenty years up and left you for a man?
How long are you going to let this go on? Munch's words ringed in my ears.
"Eli still keeping you two up at night or something?" Liv asked me.
I smiled, "Uh, yeah."
"A lot on your mind, huh? He's starting pre school soon, isn't he?"
"You know I don't really want to talk about it right before Munch and I go on that stake out," I replied. She should've expected as much from me, she knew I was the type to keep things bottled up.
Dark surroundings, especially this time of morning, especially this area of the city, closed in around us as we walked through police cars, a small crowd. I could hear thunder overhead, lightning washed out by the street lights and sex club signs. I had a habit of looking in other directions and lately I had been staring at my feet unconsciously. I caught glimpses of the neon colors in the rain puddles and only snapped awake again when my foot decimated the image.
"What have we got?" Munch said, flowing past me like a ghost in his long trench. Actually, more like a creeping black cloud, with the silver lining being the fringes of his hair poking out from underneath his hat. For once, he wasn't wearing his shades. I was thankful, being able to see his eyes for a change, something I always felt told a lot about someone.
I caught up and passed through the crime scene tape gate. Warner was sitting, hunched over the body. I felt bad for her, out here in this cold, wet weather on a Friday night. She looked nice, always finding time to make herself beautiful. I thought of my wife for a second before she filled us in. My boots splashed in the rainwater, only reminding me of how much more difficult it would be to find evidence. Cars roared past as we worked our way into the alley. I thought, How typical, an alley. I readjusted my beanie against my cold scalp and kept my hands in my pockets to warm them.
"White male, about thirty five," she said. She sounded weary, her hair hanging in the damp air as opposed to its usual friz. "I found tearing in his anal cavity so it's more likely than not he was sodomized. I didn't see any traces of semen so for now I'm assuming it was something handy, but I haven't tested for spermicide, either. From the body temp, taking in account this horrible weather we're having-"
"Tell me about it," I muttered, watching my breath rise like fog before my eyes.
"He's been dead about six hours."
"Name?" Munch questioned.
"No wallet," one of the nearby officer's butted in.
I stepped closer to look. I knew I recognized him, it even rialed a tiny chuckle.
"Know the guy?" my recently appointed partner asked me.
"Yeah, this bastard's a wife beater," I replied. "I recognize him from photos when I visited the halfway house and Mary-Catherine. Name's Micah Hana. Guess he got what was coming."
I saw Munch smile, clearly taking my words as a pun I really didn't intend. I couldn't blame him. Fifteen minutes ago we had been on a stake out halfway across the city, snuggled in the car like horny teenagers in some forbidden place hiding from our adult counterparts and I was still missing a sock.
Hana Residence, Hardborside Apartments
Friday September 17th, 7:00 A.M.
"Miss Liv yet?" Munch asked me as we waited outside the door.
"Yeah," I replied. "But it's not like we're ex partners again. Don't get used to this."
He cocked his head at me. "I'm getting' too old for this anyway."
I smiled back only briefly, forcing my game face on. A woman with dark purple hair flowing over her shoulders that I remembered as Layn Hana. She looked worse than before, even more black and blue and skin and bones than before. My heart sank and at the same time if the man hadn't been dead I would've slugged him. "Mrs. Hana..." I said her name tenderly, "Can we speak with you about your husband?"
"He's dead, I heard," she said, her voice choking. She sounded like she had been crying. I wasn't surprised. This woman had stood up for her husband and never left him even though the bastard treated her like crap. This was as much of a loss as any other case to her.
"So, you understand we need to ask you where you were late last night, about ten o'clock?" Munch asked, closing the door behind him. I watched as he took a seat on the couch. I stood, paced, looked around the apartment. Mrs. Hana grabbed some tea from the counter, setting a cup with Munch. There wasn't any sugar in it, but he gladly took it even though he was wincing at the taste.
"I was here..." she said, lost in herself. "Um..." No one was here to tell her what to say anymore and I could see her physically struggle to think of what she was really doing. "I, um..."
"It's alright, take as much time as needed," Munch added.
"I was here, reading... I only got a paragraph done... I'm sorry..." she looked out the window as if apologizing to her late husband. She wringed her apron in her hands. "My friend called, you see. Um, my friend Jay. He's a really nice guy."
"Jay?" I asked.
"Jay Dominick. I met him once when Micah brought him home to talk about business. He saw how Micah treated me... I mean, not this," she held a slender hand to her black eye. "But, the way he talked to me. He said it was wrong. He wanted me to leave Micah..."
"Where does he live?" Munch asked, "We'll have to talk to him, too."
"Um... 45th Street. A loft."
"Thanks. I'm sorry for all this," I said, almost gently tapping her shoulder reassuringly, but figuring that was the worst thing I could do. Munch thanked her for the tea and followed me outside. She closed the door behind us and I could hear her sobbing through the door. A piece of me died a little more, but I was hopeful. She still had a chance if she could pull herself together. I wouldn't hold my breath over it, though.
Loft at 45th St., Apartment of Jay Dominick
8:22 A.M.
"Police," I said, forcing my voice through the door.
"We could've gone back to the precinct for a bit," Munch told me. Being thoughtful, as always. I couldn't tell him all the things on my mind, but he had a knack for figuring me out. I guess when you had four crazy ex-wives, nothing was unreadable. "You're beat."
"No thanks to you," I snapped, unintentionally.
He only gave me a curious look before the door clicked open. "Yeah?"
"You Jay?"
"Yeah, what's goin' on? It's the crack of dawn!"
Munch nudged me discreetly. I could smell it, too. "Well, wake up," I bitched, "Otherwise we bust you."
"Oh, fuck," he began, fumbling over himself. At least we had his attention. "What can I do for you?"
"Where were you last night?" Munch asked.
"Um, I can't really say..." he stammered.
"We're not here to bust you unless you want to be uncooperative," my partner assured him.
"My dealer. On 48th. His name's Jack."
Special Victims Unit
Friday, 8:56 A.M.
"Woah," Fin greeted. "You guys had a rough night, huh."
"Stake outs are mindless torture disguised as busy work," Munch piped. "Guy never came home."
"Hey, partner," Liv greeted.
I nodded, but I wasn't much in the mood for talking. Something about that man lying there raped was striking a cord on me and I couldn't figure out why. I wanted to dismiss it as my usual hate- I was grateful the bastard was dead, but that never made me feel this way before. I glanced over at Munch, Olivia catching my line of sight before returning to her paperwork. "How'd court go?" I tried to make conversation, act normal, but the image of that man screaming and bleeding was stuck in my head.
"Justice, for a change. Guy's gettin' the needle."
"What's the deal with this Hana guy?" Fin asked Munch and I. I was kicked back at my desk, thankful to be off my feet.
"Just your average wife beating guy working a white collar job," Munch said. "Did you check out that dealer?"
"He verified that kid's story, but it's not very reliable," Fin said, folding his hands together.
I stared off into my desk, looking at the pictures of my kids. Why hadn't I felt like this a few months ago when I cheated on Kathy? Why was finally telling her, the one act that could cure my conscience, making this boil up? Maybe the pressure of the squad not knowing was enough to dredge it up. I needed to tell someone what was going on, but there was so much wrong with what I had done. I left my wife and kids for a man not even in my age group, not to mention a co-worker... I didn't even realize I had these feelings for a man buried underneath my skin. I was Catholic, for Christ's sake. Not that it stopped my opinions on things such as homosexuality before. I growled under my breath and tapped my pen mindlessly.
"What's eating you?" Liv questioned. "Something happen at home?"
I could feel Munch ready to speak up, but I couldn't let him. "Nah. Just thinking of who could've done this."
"So, now you care about men who use their wives as punching bags?" she teased.
"We don't pic the vic," I said, "We both learned that a long time ago."
"He's just grouchy-" Munch began.
"I don't need you explaining how I feel!" I barked, feeling the air settle around my shoulders. I stood and headed for some Zs, "I'm taking a nap."
A few minutes later I had almost drifted to sleep, then a gentle knock at the door. "Liv, I don't need this right now-"
"It's me."
"What do you want?" I asked Munch. He wasn't stepping inside. I was facing away from him and the door, glaring at the wall in front of me from where I was laying on the cot.
"I thought you were okay with us," he stated.
"I am..." I replied.
"Then, what is your problem?"
"It's this case... something about it has me wound tight," I sighed, rolling over. He had walked over to me, quiet as a mouse. He kissed me on the forehead. I crinkled my nose and folded my arms like the child I was.
"Liv knows," I breathed. "Liv knows. And if she doesn't she's gonna weasel it out of me."
"We're sex crimes; you think the squad is gonna care what you do?"
"You remember how tense it was when Liv and Cassidy were together?"
He laughed, "No, I don't, actually. Maybe it's just my old age getting the better of me."
"I don't know what's wrong, to be honest," I replied. "I had this same bad feeling then, like I don't know myself... and here it is again. I guess it will fade over time like before..."
"I figured you didn't talk much because it's hard to articulate. Then, I on the other hand, just don't want people prying where they don't belong. The comfort and safety of your own home is a saying for a reason."
"...yeah. Well. I should apologize to Liv."
"She knows how work is," Munch reassured me. "Get some rest and we'll pick up the case later."
He set a hand on my hip and stayed with me and for once I didn't feel like an outcast anymore.
In my sleep I dreamt weird things. I heard names I've never associated with anything. I saw places made of glass. I saw blood. I saw people screaming. I saw officers, some dying. And I saw a face... a face that felt dear to me. Eventually, that face faded to Munch's smile and I awoke in the darkness of the room, no one near me, no phones ringing in the distance. It was like being trapped in a coffin.
"Ell," called a voice, the door opening. It was Olivia with the bright light of God blinding me.
"Yeah?" I sighed, sitting up, rubbing my eyes.
"Another one to go with Mr. Hana," she breathed.
"Same M.O.?" I asked, fumbling around my shoelaces.
"Almost, except this one was burned."