A/N - Well...what do I have to say about this little one-shot? I'm loving this fanfic way too much. It was so much fun to write that when I finished I was very sad. This fanfic is a response to the lack of Munch in season 12. I've sort of forgotten he's even in the show...any way, the case information in the first half of the first sentence belongs to SVU writers but everything else is mine. All mine. *dark conspiratorial laugh*
Thanks for reading and remember to review. I'm really interested in what all of you readers think about this fanfic. I'm in love it and I hope you will be too.
Disclaimer: SVU is owned by people with money who sit in really comfortable chairs. I'm a poor college student who can only afford uncomfortable chairs. I obviously don't own SVU.
This is a report on the incident that occurred during the investigation of a murdered woman that was supposed to testify in a high-profile rape case involving the senator's daughter, Ms. Mariah Hollister. During this investigation, Detective John Munch, was wounded and was dead on arrival to Mercy Hospital. This report summarizes the resulting IAB investigation of both primary detectives involved in this incident, Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler.
Investigating Officer: Sergeant Ed Tucker
Both Detective Benson and I walk into the SVU interrogation room. She's clearly rattled but if this is because of the IAB investigation or Detective John Munch's death I have no idea. "Detective, do you know why you're here?"
"Yes, my partner and I are being investigated on our actions during the…" Benson stops talking for several seconds. I slide the chair from underneath the table to provide her with a seat.
"Do you need a minute, Detective? I can understand your apprehension of discussing the death of a fellow officer, especially so soon after."
Benson proceeds to laugh at my statement before taking the seat being offered. "Please, spare me your misguided pity, Tucker. Stop trying to placate me and just ask me the questions I know and you know you're going to end up asking at some point."
"Excuse me for caring about your well-being, Detective. But, who am I kidding; you probably have someone who's already taking care of your well-being. I'm sure someone as attractive as yourself must have admirers trying their very best to get your attentions but," I walk toward the front of the stainless steel table and lean forward in an effort to keep her rattled. "There have been rumors, however, that all of those admirers are wasting their time. I mean, come on, Detective. None of us here are idiots, we can put two and two together and get four. Did you really think no one would notice?"
Benson is clearly taken aback and moves her body into a defensive position. Something about my last statement has put the detective on high alert. "Notice what, Tucker? And what are these rumors exactly? The only rumors I'm heard around here are about how much everyone really thinks you were born with a stick up a certain part of your anatomy. I wouldn't be surprised if you just made up these 'rumors' to further your reputation as the man everyone loves to hate."
"The rumors about you and Elliot Stabler." Remarkably, Detective Benson keeps her poker-face relatively intact at my bluff. Her eyes twitched slightly to the left when I mentioned Detective Stabler which reflects that there is something there that can be exploited.
"Rumors are just words in the wind, Tucker."
"Well, Detective, this rumor isn't just words in the wind. Captain Cragen has given me reports of the detectives who were on duty during Detective Munch's radio call for help." My line of questioning is clearly making her uncomfortable. I proceed to take out the radio call logs from the date of Detective Munch's death that I requested earlier from the Technical Assistance Response Unit. "Could you please read out loud the highlighted portion of the report?
Benson looks up at me with annoyance but proceeds to read the report slowly and concisely. "'Detective Munch's radio response for immediate help dealing with a potential suspect in the murdered woman that was supposed to testify in the rape of Ms. Hollister came in at 1350 or 1:50 PM. A response back to Detective Munch was received by both Detectives Benson and Stabler at 1430 or 2:30 PM.'"
"Why the delay, Detective? If one of my fellow detectives was calling in for help with a suspect on location, I would have made sure to immediately respond but I'm sure you have good excuse that's just vague enough to be believed." A silence envelops the room as I wait for her response. It is worth noting that Detective Benson has proceeded to play with her hands but makes sure to keep eye contact with me. She's nervous but clearly not interested in lying, at least to my face.
"I didn't hear his call."
"You didn't hear his call…come on, Benson. You're going to have to do a little better than that. According to this same report, you were 'out of the office on a personal call.' What did that personal call consist of, Detective," I try to rattle her cage some more to force some more information out of her. "If I was betting man I'd bet my entire life-savings on another detective being involved in this 'personal call' as well."
"Listen, Tucker, I didn't hear the radio because I turned it off. I didn't want to be disturbed so I turned the damn thing off. Don't think that Elliot had anything to do with this. It was my mistake that caused…Munch's death." She's obviously beginning to crack. It's just a matter of time and all I've got is time when it comes to investigating this unit. I decide to keep her off balance by trying to appeal to her logical side by sweet-talking her.
"Detective, you know I have no choice but to believe that he was involved because you know and I know that he had to be involved," I lean forward and attempt to appear sympathetic to her plight. "When you were off handling your personal business, Detective Stabler was also nowhere to be found."
"He was helping his daughter with some anti-rape summit thing at Hudson." And finally I've caught her in a lie. When a suspect starts to lie, it's the beginning of the end. One lie is all I need to end an interrogation in my favor.
"Really? Hmm…are you sure about that, Detective? I'm assumed the same thing since that's what it says on the call reports and I had Cragen call Kathleen Stabler and she said she hadn't heard from him since the day before the summit." I lean back from the table and proceed to resume pushing her into a confession. "Detective, you and your partner already have blood on your hands with the choices you've decided to make though out this investigation. Do you really want to have the deaths of your careers on those same hands, Benson?"
She leans her head down and stops playing with her fingers. I've cracked Detective Benson but for some reason I can't help but feel like she's been waiting on this, waiting for her mental defenses to be let down. "Fine…I'll tell you what happened. Do you want me to start from the beginning?"
"For coherence, yes, start from the beginning."
"The day Munch died started off like any other day at the Special Victims Unit but things started getting weird as soon as Elliot and I sat down for lunch. He started asking me odd questions about whether we would get a break in the murder case."
Her last statement irks me. There is something just vague enough to cause problems in her last statement that I have to ask her to clarify. "What kind of odd questions?"
Surprisingly, she becomes evasive. Maybe she's keeping that one piece of knowledge as a saving grace but either way it doesn't matter. It's more important to get the confession from her and not the reasoning behind it. "I don't remember…they were just, odd questions at the time. After everything that happened later on…I guess I just forgot."
"Is there anything that you do remember that's pertinent to this investigation, Detective?" I'm annoyed by her sudden coyness. All of a sudden getting information from the detective has become as difficult as trying to catch a hibernating bear that has suddenly turned into a skittish deer. As she looks at me with that amused smile, I can't help but wonder if I've missed the punch-line of an inside joke.
"Well...it depends on what you consider pertinent is."
She was on her back and staring up at the ceiling of her sedan while wondering how she could have put herself in this situation. The windows were beginning to fog in response to their cumulative efforts to find a quick release with each other. They only had a little of time together before their one moment of privacy, brought upon by the fade to black of their various responsibilities, returned back to focus and reclaimed their attentions. She could feel his mouth ensnaring her neck all in an effort to make sure he knew that she was all his. Never would she say he was possessive, no, that wasn't his style, but he had a habit of wanting things he couldn't have. I was the ultimate pinnacle of that want and that's why I find myself in this situation.
He's now taken up nibbling the left side of her neck while his hands are stilled as they take up residence on her thighs. If there is one thing this man loves about her it's those thighs. When they have the time, he comes to her place looking like the kid about to steal candy from his father's convenience store and immediately starts pawing my thighs. Once she had even worn pantyhose and a garter which made him scream for the first time.
She couldn't talk because he never wanted her to. He couldn't even stand it when she moaned because it reflected a shared pleasure between the two of them. He couldn't have that without the guilt that inevitably came with it. He didn't want her to make a sound so in the backseat of the cramped squad car that's exactly what she did. As the nibbling on her neck increased into high-intensity biting, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hold back her auditory impulses. She lost the fight when a slight groan leaked out of her lips and entered his ears. The growl that accompanied the sharp bite on the underside of her neck made her scream in response. She knew that scream would make him furious but it was impossible to stop her from making a sound.
"Do you want me to stop?" He said with a frown full of contempt.
She couldn't even speak in monosyllables. She was, for what felt like the hundredth time, at his mercy. Her head moved slightly to the left and then back to the right to give him a response but she knew he could care less about her actual response. To him she was just an attractive means to an end. She couldn't help but wonder if she was just one of his many interchangeable fuck-buddies. He always said that she was the only one that meant anything to him but when he was asked this he never could look her in the eyes. The salty tears always ended up running down her face whenever he was finished using her body like an ATM even though she told knew that he didn't care about her. She was his occasional prostitute and he was the kind but demanding pimp.
When they were at the precinct he was Dr. Jekyll with his friendly flirtatious comments but after a hard case he became Mr. Hyde as he forced her to take his pain away. He never thought about her feelings. Every encounter between the two of them was reckless. He fucked her anywhere and everywhere; a quick and silent meeting in the dark on stairwell leading up to her apartment, the squad car was a favorite of his because it was a portable fuck device, sometimes he couldn't even wait long enough to get inside and ended up making her cringe as he pulled her pants down and forced her to sit upon the oozing brilliance of her apartment building's trash cans, the pulsating water coming from her showerhead as he took her from behind with little fanfare, the claw marks they both made on her couch always reminded her of the afternoon when he forced her to ride him as he sat back and watched all the while looking like the cat that ate the canary, and there were even more times that she wanted to forget but found herself unable to. He loved her as long as she was willing and subservient but if she made the slightest complaint he stopped everything and left. She hated that she let him have her but she hated herself even more for crying herself to sleep whenever he left her after their marathons of self-imposed guilt as he called them. He hated that she understood his actions and thoughts but she noticed he had no problem coming back for more, hell, sometimes he would even invite himself over like he was a co-owner of her apartment. She could never tell him that she really had no idea why he acted the way he did no matter how many exhausted and sleepless nights were spent at the cribs, some random cockroach hotel on the outskirts of New York City, or on the cheap sheets that she made sure she put out for these occasions with him.
He stared at her with those steely eyes that exuded all of the typical emotions he felt while fucking her; annoyance at needing her so badly, ambivalence toward her obvious discomfort at the potential risks of the of them getting caught with their pants down, disgust at his constant state of arousal when around her, sadness at the fact that they both knew that Kathy could never get him this turned on even if she made an effort to do so, the overwhelming sense of happiness at getting to mark her as his again, and the guilt of their actions. He was beginning to make a low-pitched mewl against her skin when the yell of their radios turning on filled the car with noise. That one moment of unexpected noise allowed her to slip a keening moan from her lips without fear of retribution. Munch's voice travelled through their ears as they heard him mumble something about the suspect in the murder case was trying to run and he was in pursuit. He was asking for back up. She tried to lift her body from the seat of the squad car but the result of that effort just made the burning muscles of the body on top of her shiver in response. Immediately he grabbed my shoulders and forced them back down. He hated whenever I started to make decisions during these fuck sessions. It probably made him realize that he wasn't just fucking an extremely realistic blow-up doll which must kick the Catholic guilt into overtime.
"What are you doing…we need to help Munch. If we don't respond then IAB…fuck, what if something happens to Munch and we weren't there…"
He grabs both of their radios and throws them both into the front seat after turning the volume off. "All I need is 20 minutes and ten minutes to get presentable. They don't need us to do everything all the time."
As the buttons keeping him from having direct access from seeing the effect he was having on her quickly came undone, she couldn't understand his logic on letting Munch fend for himself all so he could get a quick fuck. It wasn't like she was going anywhere; he knew where she worked, where she lived, and all of her local haunts that she visited after tough cases so why was he so worked up over this one moment? Every part of her brain told her that this wasn't a good idea but if she interrupted him, he would just spend more time making her miserable. She laid her head down on the uncomfortable armrest and closed her eyes all in an effort to speed up time.
"You're still on the pill right?" His question was more of a statement. He wasn't expecting her to answer and began preparing his veiny purple monster before I even began to shake my head up and down. He felt compelled to at least ask which made her feel like he had some semblance of care for her well-being but as she felt him rip her newly matching set of panties off her body that idea evaporated. But what did it say about her when she lifted the lower half of her body in response to his tugging and pulling? There was no time to think about that, there was never any time to ponder those important thoughts. His hand was already dipping into her warm nectar and gathering up her excess fluids to slather onto that monster of his. Looking down as she watched him get ready for the act that he was craving for she knew that he was going to hurt her this time. Sometimes he got her so wet that he slid into her with nothing more than a little pressure but more often than not his excitement made him rush the foreplay. She was always wet for him and if his erection didn't have such a large girth it wouldn't have mattered but she knew he didn't care. The tighter she was, the better she felt, which got him off quicker, and allowed him to go home and do whatever pre-Kathy rituals he went through before she got home with the Band of Stablers.
He looked at her with that goofy smile like she was enjoying this as much as he was and moved himself closer to her entrance. She looked at her watch and inwardly groaned after realizing only five minutes had passed since Munch's call. He could be on the floor watching solemnly as his tissue and blood gushed and oozed onto his white Oxford. By the time the blood and brain matter reached the floor it would be too late, Munch would be gone and everything would be her fault. She killed her mother and now she was going to kill one of her closest colleagues and friends.
"Look at me," His slimy hand grabbed her face and turned it around to make eye contact with him again. Some of that same warm slimy residue remained on her face as it began to comingle with the flood of tears that were running down her face. She felt an obsessive need to taste her own two substances together and with a flick of her fingers she gathered the combined substances and tasted it. She never knew that sorrow, pain, and pity could be discerned in just a person's bodily fluids. Looking up from her fingers, she saw his face cringe in distress. He could never truly understand that she felt the same amount of turmoil as he did when they fucked. She told him all the time whenever she could that she hated doing this but he never really listened. If she mentioned it before they fucked he couldn't hear anything except for the call to fuck her senseless and after they stopped fucking never worked because by that point he was so physically drained and emotionally rebuilding the walls he needed to deal with Kathy and the kids every day. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down to her neck. With a hard clutch of his muscles, she forced him to continue fucking her. He hated thinking about his actions. With thought came acceptance and with acceptance came even more guilt.
With a growl and a quick bite on her shoulder, he gave her the first thrust of what was sure to be many. He wouldn't be satisfied unless she had an orgasm before him. As the sweat became to form on his back as she continued to clutch onto him like a lifeline to a drowning victim, the moans and groans that were so safely restrained before came lashing out of her body. This was the only time she was allowed to be loud, when he was too self-absorbed in his own pleasure to care.
He was moving nearly fast enough or hard enough. If she had more room to maneuver in this cramped squad car than she would have thrown him on his back and finished herself off but that wasn't going to work. Screaming directions at him would have just made him annoyed. As each minute passed she knew that Munch was screwed. He was in that mood today which meant every thrust or action would be slowed down to an impossible speed until they both climaxed together because, quite frankly, by that point there was nothing left for their bodies to give besides orgasm or pass out. Once when they were having one of their sessions on the staircase he had gotten in this mood and nearly made her crazy and annoyed with his stamina. Fucking the freak of nature could be fun in the right situation but not when a life was on the line.
"Sweetheart…please, we can't do this now. Munch is out there and he needs us," She says in a weak effort to get him to realize reason.
"I need this even more. He'll have to wait," But as he says this his body betrays him and starts speeding up on its own accord. "Fuck, see what you do to me? I can't even control myself around you. You'll be the death of me, you know that right?"
As I feel him try to slow his body back down I can't help but want him to die right now. All I want is to go and help Munch. Why can't he understand that? We can always go back and do this at any other time. My door is always open for him, no matter how much it sickens me to acknowledge that.
I'm understandably shocked after hearing that emission from Benson. "Okay…stop. I don't need to hear about everything that happened," I stop to catch my breath before moving forward with the obvious question. "So…the rumors were true. You and Detective Stabler are participating in an illegal relationship."
The detective throws out another hearty laugh that nearly causes me to fall out of my chair. "It's not illegal for me an Elliot to be in a relationship with each other. In the NYPD Rules and Procedures handbook that they give to every newbie cop there's nothing in there about fraternizing being 'illegal.'"
"Do I need to get this handbook so we can look at it together, Detective?"
"No, you don't," Benson sighs before resuming her thought. "I've spent enough time looking at it to know what it says but honestly, Tucker, I don't consider what we've done to be within the confines of true relationship. Technically, we haven't done anything wrong."
"We're on the record, Detective. You may be able to spin lies in your head but on the record you might want to think about that choice."
Detective Benson looks up at my face and for the first time I realized that I was just playing into her web. Ever since the beginning of this interview she has been leading me along until finally we've reached this point. "I've thought about it and I understand my actions. I wasn't in a relationship with Detective Stabler. We occasionally fucked each other senseless once or twice a month but we certainly never 'made love' in any way, shape, or form. Tucker, do you really consider the act of physically rampaging another human being a 'relationship?'"
"I can't just ignore this, Detective. I'm going to have to file papers, more investigations are inevitably going to have to take place between the two of you, and this is definitely going to be on your record. At the best, you'll be suspended with pay." I'm getting tired of hearing her wordplay. She needs to answer my questions, not parry around them like we're in a swordfight.
"I know the repercussions of my actions. I know what's going to happen next. All of what happens is just…karma. I should have pushed Elliot off of me as soon as I heard Munch call in for help but…I didn't," Benson grabs the table and her eyes close briefly as if she's exhausted. "I let Elliot make the wrong decision without doing anything about it so I have to lie in the bed I've made. I'm always going to live with the fact that I killed Munch with my actions, or lack thereof. That's a hell of a worse punishment than losing my gun, shield, and pension."
I can't believe she's willing to give up her job without considering her partner. "And what about partner, Detective? You keep talking about your punishment but he deserves some of this also. He was just as responsible as you were."
Her face cringes before she starts to speak. "Elliot has always danced around the line of sanity and absolute craziness ever since I've known him. I think having me around, this job, and his multitude of family problems…everything just became too much. I was his outlet for every emotion that he couldn't or wouldn't bring home to Kathy or the kids. Tucker, you can't fault him. Where else was he going to go to get those emotions out? I understand the job but more importantly, I understand him and all of his idiosyncrasies."
Normally, I would have ended the interview after I got my confession but even I can't help but wonder about the why behind Detective Stabler's actions. "Why didn't he just quit like everyone else that comes to this unit? No one would have been shocked. Working SVU is difficult at best."
"You can't quit SVU. It's in the blood. You quit SVU when you're dead, emotionally or physically. Whichever comes first as they say." Benson smiles up at me and for the first time I feel like she isn't holding back information from me. She's telling me everything that's pertinent to the investigation and honestly, that's all that really matters.
"And you do realize that SVU will do that to you anyway, Detective."
"Yes, and we wouldn't have it any other way."
This concludes the interview portion of the IAB investigation of the shooting of Detective John Munch of the SVU. Under further review of all materials directly involved with this investigation, Sergeant Ed Tucker, concludes that both Detectives Elliot Stabler and Olivia Benson be transferred to the 27th Precinct. This recommendation is dependent on both Detectives going as a partnership because after reviewing the relationship between the two detectives, splitting them up would be detrimental to their high crimes solved rates.
A/N Pt. 2 - Am I the only one who thinks a L&O revival with Olivia and Elliot as the lead detectives would be awesome? *silence* Well, I guess I am the only one. I hate hounding readers for reviews but...remember to leave me some feedback. You have no excuse, you're finished reading so what else is there left to do?