A/N: Angst warning. I promise it won't stay this way. Fluff is in the future!

I have done this so many times; I'm almost positive I could do it with my eyes closed. If I weren't such a literal person, I'd say I could do it in my sleep.

There are six stages to an autopsy. These stages allow a medical examiner to gather and record all available data, then present it in such a way that it provides answers and evidence. The steps are meticulous, from the initial exam to the final punctuation in the conclusive report.

However, where the body is concerned, an autopsy starts and ends with the Y-incision.

I finish stitching the skin of my current patient back together and then take a step away to survey my work.

This is something that I have done too many times. Far too many times.

She is too small, too young, and just too innocent to be on this sterile table in this cold examination room.

Her name is Lacy, she is just a child, and I hate that she is here. I hate that I've had to further mar her porcelain skin with my procedures and I hate that her own father beat the life out of her; the signs of his violence and her suffering so evident on every inch of her body.

This should not have happened.

She was in this very building only a few days ago; alive, hopeful, and so much stronger than any six year old should ever have to be.

She should have been placed in state custody. If she had, this would not have happened.

Tragically, and for some ungodly reason, she was given back to him. He was a grieving husband after all. His spouse had been viciously murdered only the week before and he 'just needed to be with his daughter'. That's all he wanted and that is what he was granted.

Then he killed her...just like he killed his wife.

There was "Just not enough evidence to know for sure.", not enough facts to keep the child out of his control.

But someone did know for sure.

Jane knew.

I had watched as the detective kept little Lacy company for hours in the bullpen. The two talked and giggled and consumed far too many sugary substances while the murderous man and his attorney, were questioned by Cavanaugh, Korsak, and a social worker.

Jane was so sure that she had presented enough for people to reasonably suspect this man's involvement in his wife's death. She didn't believe there was any possible way that they would charge the child back to his care. She was even trying to formulate a way to apply for temporary custody, to make absolutely certain that Lacy was safe and not just thrown into the first available spot in the social care system.

However, the father eventually appeared at Jane's desk with his expensive lawyer and two solemn looking detectives in tow. He called his child to him.

I thought the detective was going to draw her weapon and shoot him on the spot.

The level of composure she outwardly demonstrated surprised me, but I could see the fury in her eyes. However, as she began to come to terms with the inevitability of the situation, anger quickly gave way to desperation.

Jane begged. I'm not sure I have ever seen my best friend, the strongest woman I have ever known, beg for anything. Ever. But she begged and pleaded for someone to do something about the fact that a murderer was walking out of a Boston precinct with a six year old in his arms.

Her eyes were shining and she was shaking like a leaf when she turned to her lieutenant and asked 'why'.

He stared at the floor like he was trying to burn a hole in it and answered through clenched teeth.

"Just not enough evidence to know for sure."

She almost cried. I'm sure she did later that evening, in the privacy and solitude of her home.

I hardly spoke to Jane those few days and only caught a few glimpses of her rushing through the halls of the building. The wife's body had been virtually wiped clean of forensic evidence, so I was rendered fairly useless. This meant that the detective was busying herself in other avenues of investigation.

She had worked constantly to try and find the proof that would allow her to lead the Calvary into action and save a child who was in such obvious danger. I doubt that the determined detective slept at all. On several occasions I had left food and water on her desk, only to return several hours later to find the items untouched. I was waiting for the call that would alert me to the fact that Jane collapsed from exhaustion, hunger, and dehydration, but it never came.

Lacy's father was very well educated, very charming, and very good at covering up his actions. He was also extremely wealthy and hired one of the most successful defense attorneys in the City of Boston the moment Jane questioned his whereabouts on the night his wife was killed. It made the process of procuring information tedious and time consuming.

Despite the odds against her, Jane almost had him. In two days, she had done the work of six detectives and it nearly paid off.

But it didn't.

I was not with her when the news about Lacy reached the station this morning. A message came through my email alerting me to the body's impending arrival. I rushed up to Jane's desk in a futile attempt to find and console my very best friend, but as I expected, she was not there.

There was nothing left for Jane in this case; no justice to be served. After killing his daughter, the perpetrator shot himself in the head. He had awarded himself a quick and painless death...something he did not deserve...something he did not give his child.

I returned to my office in time to receive Lacy's body and I immediately prepped for the autopsy.

As I stood beside her little figure, dressed in my scrubs, I took a moment to look at her. Angry red and purple marks covered her skin...that disgusting man had used her as a canvas to paint his terror.

I picked up my scalpel and readied myself for the most thorough and respectful examination that I have ever performed.

I caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of my eye; a figure through the observation window. I turned my head.

Jane was standing there, looking through the glass. I had no idea how long she had been present. I watched her stare at the little one on my table and something inside of me broke. All of me broke. I had never, and prayed that I would never again, see someone look so haunted and defeated.

I placed my scalpel back on the instrument stand and turned my body toward her. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep from breaking down.

She tore her eyes from my patient and met my gaze. I couldn't stop the sob that escaped my control. Jane looked so completely finished. She is the most important person in my life...but it looked like she had lost her soul. Those eyes that were normally so expressive, whether they were expressing happiness, anger, sadness, or pain, held no emotion at all. They were empty of everything.

I took a step forward, but I lost my balance and had to catch myself on a nearby table. I couldn't feel my legs; my entire body had gone completely numb. When I regained my composure, I looked back toward the window.

Jane had left.

I hazily walked into my office and called Korsak from my work phone. He informed me that Frost, Frankie, as well as himself would be taking shifts keeping a 24 hour watch on the detective for the next few days. They had witnessed the same Jane that I had and were just as disturbed.

Lacy is in cold storage now.

I am redressed and putting the finishing touches on her report. It is the truth of what happened, the details of the sickening way in which she died. It is the last thing I will ever be able to provide for this beautiful, but extinguished, life.

Tonight, I will go home, eat something, drink plenty of water, and meditate. I will begin the process of sifting through everything that I have had to compartmentalize over the course of the past several days. When I am satisfied with my state of mind, I will do my best to go to sleep.

I will do all these things for myself tonight, because tomorrow, I need to help Jane.

A/N: Okay. This was a lot more angst-filled than I had intended, but it's just the way the chapter came out. The tension will continue, but it won't last too much longer. You see, I take up permanent residence in Fluffville. I will venture outside my town to visit Angst City every once in a while...but not very often and never for an extended period of time. We'll work our way back to my fluffy little home and pick up Rizzles along the way. Thank you so much for taking the time to read! It really makes my day! Hope you enjoyed the chapter! -SJR