A/N: I STILL DO NOT own any part of the Law & Order franchise. It's nice to go back and relive this story a little bit as I rewrite it, and look from where I've come as a writer.

Discovery

"You honestly can't expect me to believe your bullshit!"

The night exploded in a mixture of anger and betrayal, the scorned screams of a woman mixing in with the soulful sounds of the city below. Car horns honked, traffic roared, and next door, the unmistaken sounds of revelry echoed and bounced off the walls as the club boomed away.

"And you can't honestly expect me to sit here, and admit to your ridiculous accusations!"

In the city that never slept, amongst the millions and millions, bustling about as they lived their everyday lives, a married couple by the name of Steven and Katie found themselves arguing amidst the evening chorus, hurt and rage radiating from her large green eyes, and sheer panic blossoming in his brown ones.

For one year now they had lived together in the home which they planned to begin their life in. It was really a joyous affair, after dating for three years, and being the "office romance" of their marketing corporation.

"Accusations Steven, really? Do you honestly believe I naturally just make this kind of stuff up?" Katie retaliated, blonde hair falling in front of her beet-red face.

Ah, but how things change.

"Isn't that what you're doing?" her husband shot back, heart beating wildly in his chest as he stood on the precipice of what could be the dissolution of his marriage. A marriage which had not even made it to its sophomore year.

"I'm making it up? Then what is this!"

Immediately, Steven became visibly panicked as his fierce façade quickly slipped away, replaced by that of a man who knew he had done wrong, however, would still do whatever it took to hold onto his pride.

In the hand of the petite blonde he thought he was in love with, as a small Nokia phone, glistening menacingly beneath the harsh lighting of their "ultra-mod" apartment. As Steven stared at the phone, he silently and foolishly tried to con himself into believe that Katie had played the role of dutiful wife well, and would never go through his phone, however, as he stared at her tear-stricken face, he knew this was not the story.

"W-what the hell are you doing with my phone?" he stuttered slightly, trying to put himself back together as he did the only thing he could defensively: try and portray her invasiveness of his privacy as a bigger travesty than his philandering.

"You left it on the kitchen before you went to work and someone texted you. I was going to bring it to you but then the bitch wouldn't stop." Katie replied, lip quivering dangerously.

Steven stared, caught in a moment where the truth was openly out, and he had no idea just how to go about or what to say.

"Fine I admit it…I slept with her." He finally sighed, hoping his confession would still some of his wife's anger. He was 30 years old, and although he had friends that were still single, he was more than 1/3 of the way finished with his life. Did he really want to be alone? He wanted kids, the white picket fence (so to speak, this was New York City after all). How could he do that as a fresh divorcee in his 30's?

Face contorted in an emotional grimace, Katie grabbed a high-ball glass off the kitchen counter and hurled it with all her might at her husband, missing by mere millimeters. As the glass shattered with the counter behind it, Steven jerked wildly, throwing himself out of the way of the falling shards and looking at what his wife had done.

In that moment, all guilt and sorrow he felt for his crimes were gone, replaced with a maddening anger at the destruction of not only a quality piece of kitchenware, but her own willingness to bring physical harm to him. He, Steven Hilliard, would not be hurt by anybody. Not by any man, and surely not his own wife, who stood at merely 5'2'' and 120 pounds.

"You fucking bitch!" he spat, eyes alive with fire that invoked fear into his wife's heart "do you know how much that cost?"

Eyes wide with fear and heart thumping rapidly in her chest, Katie stood frozen in her spot, unable to do anything but watch as her husband lunged towards her, grabbing her by her upper arms and raising a hand.

A bloodcurdling scream suddenly flew through the open window in the living room, tearing them from their violent ordeal and jolting the disheveled lovers from their spot and towards the living room. Pushing each other out of the way, they wrestled to crane their bodies out the window and get a view of what had caused the high-pitched scream.

Gaining leverage over his wife, Steven squinted his eyes in the darkness, trying to study the alleyway which resided beneath their window. Under the flashing neon lights of the club next door, he could just make out two shadowy figures. One tore through the alleyway, leaving behind a small mass huddled on the floor.

"There's someone down there." Steven muttered to himself, unconsciously loud enough so that his wife could hear.

Without thinking, he bolted from the window, making his way for the front door of their apartment and heading down the staircase. Katie followed suit, and together, they raced down four flights of stairs before rushing out into the chilly fall air, adrenaline and nerves pumping wildly through their bodies.

Turning into the alleyway, Steven threw out an arm, stopping his wife just as they approached the mouth.

"Stop!" he hissed, in a voice more protective than angry.

"What? Why?" Katie exclaimed, eyes darting about wildly as the likelihood of danger poked at the forefront of her mind.

Without a word, Steven pointed to a large footprint on the ground, causing Katie to gasp in shock. Glistening beneath the artificial light, was the unmistakable sticky red fluid that they both knew to be blood. Looking at each other, Steven swallowed, before turning to the mouth of the alleyway, and stepping in cautiously.

With each step, Steven swore he could feel a pair of eyes at the back of his neck, some predatory force watching him through the shadows. Body tense, he stalked slowly through the alley before coming upon the mass he saw earlier.

Immediately, he inhaled sharply as he gazed down at the form below him, only to find a woman with closed eyes. Kneeling down quickly, his eyes flitted over her before noticing a pool of blood surrounding her. She lay on her back, arm thrown over her face dramatically like some prima donna with luscious red curls and full red lips.

Carefully pulling her into his arms, Steven rolled her onto her stomach to find two bloody markings in her back, covered in blood. Feeling himself shake, he quickly picked her up, cradling her in his arms and praying that she could be moved. Immediately, his bare arms were covered in the sickening fluid and one glance revealed that her clothes were shredded to piece, leaving her mostly bare.

Staggering beneath her solid frame, Steven approached his wife who waited with her hands clapped together nervously.

"Honey, get upstairs and call the police. Tell them there's a girl who needs medical attention immediately, and I think may have been raped!"

Katie nodded her blonde head and took off like a pixie, disappearing into the building. Struggling under the weight of the girl, Steven began to slow ascension, hoping he would run into a neighbor who would help them, but knowing he wouldn't. Over the past year, he had not been very kind to his fellow neighbors, and from that, became isolated around the complex.

Finally catching the sight of their door, Steven barged through, thankful his wife had left it ajar and stumbled across the apartment wildly, trying to get the girl out of his hands as quickly as possible.

Without thinking, he deposited her on the red couch, arms shaking from the physical exertion and the whole situation in general. As he looked down at her, he first noticed her beauty. Beneath the light of his apartment it was evident that she could not be a streetwalker.

"The police and ambulance are on their way. Should I do anything?" Katie suddenly said beside him, voice wavering audibly.

Steven looked down at his wife. He was streaked in blood, she was streaked in tears. Standing silently in their apartment, they both gazed at the girl who had suddenly come into their lives, stopping what would have likely been a damaging scenario for the both of them. Wanting nothing more than the comfort of his wife, Steven let his bloodied arm fall around her shoulder. Scooping her small frame into his own, his kissed the top of her forehead and together they both stood. Resting her head on his chest, Katie silently whispered to him, letting him know everything was forgiven, but certainly not forgotten.

"What have we got here?" Detective Elliot Stabler said loudly as he and his partner Olivia Benson made their entrance into the apartment. The two cops were the finest of their squad, a unit specializing in sex crimes.

To the naked eye, there were a lovely couple of professionals no doubt, Olivia with her voluminous brown hair and dazzling smile, and Elliot with his masculine frame.

"We've got a female. 18, named Jodi Stanford. Found in the alley next door, raped, closed slashed to ribbons, and letters carved in her back." Said an EMT as soon as they entered the kitchen.

Olivia stopped, turning to the young boy incredulously.

"Did you just say 'letters carved in her back'?" she squinted, wondering if she had heard the boy right.

"Yeah, set of initials. R.F. I believe."

"Jesus." Olivia hissed under her breath. "Is she going to live?" she asked, turning to the young brunette EMT.

"Oh yeah, don't worry she's alright! The wounds were shallow, but we do need to get her down to the hospital to do stitches and a rape kit. We're trying to get a stretcher up here now, she's over in the living room on the couch if you want to talk to her."

His voice pled for attention, something Olivia didn't even register as she turned to face the living room and the young girl inside. Without a word, she made her way along with Elliot into the next room, immediately catching sigh of the redhead on the couch huddled beneath the green fleece blanket.

Turning back to the EMT quickly, she raised her eyes as his own widened in excitement.

"Who found her?"

"The homeowners. Steven and Katie Hickler. Said they heard her scream outside-"

"-So much for the Genovese Theory." Olivia cut him off, spinning on her heel and making her way back toward the young girl.

"Jodi Stanford?" Elliot asked, pulling his badge out as they approached her.

Jodi looked up, huddled in the small blanket and gave a small smile.

"Yeah that's me."

"I'm Detective Stabler, this is Detective Benson. We're with the Special Victims Unit we deal with sex crimes. Can you tell me about what happened tonight?" Elliot said, flashing his badge. Olivia did so as well, and Jodi pulled the blanket tightly around her body.

"Um…yeah. I work at the club next door. I went outside for a smoke break and this guy came up to me. I thought he was one of the guys from the club at first, then he grabbed me by my neck and threw me down. And…well, you get the jist from there." She shrugged, looking away from the two.

"Know what he looked like?" Elliot asked, tilting his head to the side as he examined her carefully. Sure enough, there was a small bruise from a hand on her neck. He had grabbed her harshly enough to leave a mark.

"No, he was wearing a mask the entire time. And gloves. A glove of both kinds, before you ask." She looked back up at him, eyes floating down to his groin to emphasize her double meaning.

"Wasn't going to." Elliot replied as he raised his eyebrows and took a step back slightly, signaling to Olivia she had just stepped past his comfort zone.

"Stretcher's up here, we need to get her to the hospital!" someone exclaimed, interrupting the tense scene.

"You taking her to Lenox Hill?" Olivia asked, turning to one of the EMT's. He nodded in response, and she turned to her partner.

"I'm going to drive up there, why don't you scout the crime scene?"

"Fine with me." Elliot said, before glancing over at Jodi. She slowly stood, a noticeable limp in her gait. As she did so, Elliot caught a hint of her inner thigh, which was streaked with blood and quickly looked away.

"Ms. Stanford, I'm going to follow you to the hospital, is that alright?" Olivia asked.

"Please, I was absolutely dying to have a social engagement." Jodi replied, voice dripping with ice.

As she was helped onto the stretcher, Olivia looked back at Elliot.

"Attitude like that? This is going to be fun." She sighed, putting her hands into her back pockets.

"And a hell of a lot of paperwork." Elliot concluded.

Room of Jodi Stanford

Lenox Hill Hospital

Sunday, October 20th

Jodi sighed as she watched the scrub-clad nurse depart from her room, slamming the door unceremoniously behind her.

She had been awake for three hours, after a long night of questioning from Detective Benson, and extremely uncomfortable rape kit, and being prodded and stitched up after her ordeal.

Despite her evident discomfort and need for recovery, the cops from the Special Victims Unit seemed to care extremely little for her fatigue. Several minutes ago, she had been informed that a detective would be in to talk to her, causing Jodi to not only become irritated, but also nervous for the encounter.

Grabbing a cup of subpar applesauce from the tray table beside her bed, she swallowed a spoonful miserably and slammed it back onto the tray.

Jodi hated hospitals, and for very good reason. The huge complexes often housed the smell of death and urine, mixed with thousands of germs and bacteria and the dying.

Ever since she was a child, the wallpapered walls and formaldehyde scented floors drove horrific images through her head, and brought about severe bouts of nausea and unparalleled fear. It was bad enough for her to visit. Now she had spent the night (fitfully) in one, and could physically feel her skin crawl as she prayed to be released soon.

Three sharp raps against the door suddenly pulled Jodi from her thoughts, and she looked up as her door swung open slowly and two men walked into the room. One was black, clad in a leather coat and black shirt, head thrown back in an air of stereotypical cockiness and intimidation as he made his way towards Jodi's bed. The other was a rail-thin elderly man, with white hair and dark eyes that twinkled with a spark of youth so fierce it made Jodi focus on him for another second.

"Jodi Stanford?" The black one asked. She simply nodded in return, and watched as he pulled a badge from his coat pocket, dread crawling through her immediately.

"I'm Detective Tutuola, this is my partner Detective Munch, we're with the Special Victims Unit. We're here to ask you some questions about your rape."

The word rape jabbed at Jodi sharply, like the fine point of a knife. It disgusted her, and sent the memories reeling as she felt her attacker pushing inside of her forcefully, making sure each thrust ripped and tore at the delicate tissue of her womanhood.

To say that she was attacked, simply made her feel more at ease. Jodi could think of the encounter as nothing more than assault, and forget the fact that she had been violated violently, but with the word "rape", it stirred something within her. Through her easy-going façade, emotions welled and tumbled within Jodi like waves on a hurricane-ridden ocean. With every thought back to the moment where she feared for her life, terror and self-loathing rushed through her. Loathing for the fact that she had been so weak, she simply laid there and whimpered as he pushed inside of her.

"Don't you all talk to each other? I talked to Detective Benson last night." She replied, looking away as her face burned.

"Yeah but we need to get some details in. Besides, Detective Benson is currently working another case." The white-haired man suddenly cut in, his voice dripping with faux concern that told Jodi he had spent so many years in this job that it may have been hard to feel genuine emotion for a victim.

"Details like what?" Jodi asked, looking him over carefully, and finding solace in his handsome face and lanky build. For some reason, he set her at ease, even without even saying anything.

"Well, what happened last night for starters. A lot of vics change their stories within the first few hours of their attack. We just need to go over everything and see if there's anything else you can remember, alright?"

His tone was warm, pulling Jodi for a moment from the horrific memories that now tumbled around in her mind. Nodding quietly, she inhaled deeply, before looking straight ahead as she tried to remember ever detail from the previous night.

"I work at the club, so I went outside after my number to grab a smoke-"

"Was anyone following you?" the black detective cut in, causing Jodi's temper to flare.

"I think I'd know if someone was following me! And even if not, how can you know if you don't let me finish the damn story?" she snapped.

She watched as he and his partner exchanged looks with one another, before the white-haired detective took over.

"Sorry about that Ms. Stanford, go on." He apologized.

His partner glanced at him for a moment, and again, Jodi felt her rage subside before clearing her throat which had suddenly gotten dry.

"I was…I was going out to have a smoke, and no one was following me." She shot before continuing. "I pulled out a cigarette, lit up, and then…I felt hands around my neck. Grabbing really tightly. So tight I couldn't breathe. Then he threw me on the ground and pinned me down. I remember wondering what the hell was going on before adrenaline started to kick in. I tried to knee him off of me, but he put his knees on my thighs so I couldn't move and squeezed my neck so I couldn't breathe. I kept trying to fight him off but then he pulled out a knife and held it close to my neck. I could feel the point pressing into my skin, and I knew he would slit my throat. So I let him take off my clothes. He kept the knife to my neck while he got his pants off, the put his hands in between my thighs and…"

Jodi trailed off, the words stuck in her throat as the thought sent a searing pain to her nether regions.

"It's alright, we've got it." The white-haired detective said with a sigh, before stepping over and glancing down at Jodi, his dark eyes swimming with emotion that made Jodi want to fall into his arms and let the tears flow.

"Thanks." She murmured, so softly that it was not heard.

"One more thing Ms. Stanford, if that's okay. There were a set of initial carved into your back…" he trailed off, just as Jodi paled.

"Yeah." She said quietly.

"Do you know what they say?" he continued.

At this, Jodi found herself momentarily intrigued. Once she had arrived at the hospital, she had been cleaned, sewn up, bandaged, tested for diseases (in case the condom broke), and had a rape kit run. Through all the barked orders and clipped voices, she did not know just what the initials said, and no one seemed very keen on telling her.

"No. No one's told me. I didn't even know they were initials, they just hurt like hell. Will you…" she trailed off, glancing at the white-haired detective and sitting up, ignoring the searing pain that screamed from her mutilated flesh.

He stood, glancing at his partner again.

"I'm not sure we should do that. I'll go get the nurse." He said.

"No please! I'd rather you do it." She pleaded, face coloring with her declaration.

"Munch, what are you-" the black detective began before his partner cut him off. Detective Munch walked over to Jodi slowly, face wrinkled intently as he glanced at Jodi's bandaged back, exposed by her open hospital gown.

Letting her hand find the tape which held the gauze wrapped around her midsection, Jodi peeled it back, feeling the gauze loosen. Grasping at the fabric, she began to unravel the layers slowly, making it to the padded bandage that covered her back.

Detective Munch leaned forward, grasping the edges and lifting them lightly, tearing Jodi's flesh along with them. She winced, gritting her teeth as the cold air hit her sore skin. Just as the pain began, Jodi found herself inhaling the scent of subtle cologne, warm notes of Autumn.

"It says 'R.F.'" Detective Munch suddenly stated, placing the bandage back.

"Than an ex of yours?" his partner said, causing Jodi to twitch as she glanced over at him.

"Cute, but no. I don't even know anyone by those initials." She replied as her fingers grasped at the white gauze once more. Looking up at Detective Munch, she inhaled is scent once more, feeling it soothe her frazzled nerves.

"Can you help me with this?" she asked.

He simply looked at her for a moment, before backing away.

"You can have the nurse help you with that. Thanks for your time, we'll call you if we need anything else." He said.

With that, the two men backed away, the door slamming shut behind them and leaving Jodi on the bed, back exposed to the air and emptiness blossoming inside of her.

"Man, what the hell was that?"

John Munch glanced over at his partner as they walked down the crowded hallway of the hospital, away from Jodi's room.

"What was what?" he shot back.

"Going all easy on her? You know we're not going to get anything like that."

"Did you see her man? She looked like she was about to fall to pieces, she couldn't handle anything else."

"Neither can half the other vics we see but it has be done while the details are still fresh, you know that."

John ignored his partner before tapping on the back of a nurse.

"Jodi Stanford, room 211 needs to be rebandaged."

The woman nodded, before walking away with a clipboard in hand as John and Fin made their way out of the hospital.

Something that happened when they had walked into Jodi's hospital room, and he saw her there, red hair glimmering beneath the dull lights and green eyes sparkling lightly. Granted, he had always had a weakness for reds, but this girl was something different entirely. While she was evidently upset from her ordeal, she still kept a strong face, something that made him both admire and worry for her. Part of him was afraid she would keep everything bottled up, the other part was certain she had just moved on.

But more than that, was the way she had looked at him. The first time he spoke, her eyes swam with something John hadn't seen in years, and had come to loathe.

She had doe-eyes, pleading with unspoken sadness for John to give her everything he wanted. Women were truly evil, but the thing was, it felt as though perhaps she was not even trying. What would her motive be? What would she get out of seducing him?

She stayed with him on the ride all the way down to the precinct, Jodi Munch, his newest case, and by far the most interesting person he had met in a long time.