Authors Note: Baltimore's nickname is Charm City, so if I use those interchangeably…

The rest, you know the drill

Desperately needing a cup of something, ANYTHING, with caffeine in it, Munch and Fin dragger their weary bodies into the squad room.

"What've we got people?" bellowed Cragen as he made his sweeping walk towards the board.

Munch let Fin fill them in on what they knew as he walked to his locker and checked his mail. Four messages on pink slips of papers - two from ex-wives probably demanding more money, a memo reminding him of the annual policeman's ball - a function he vowed never to attend again after the fiasco only known as the Disaster of '98, and 3 small manila envelopes that he knew he'd never open. He quickly and quietly took them to his desk, unlocked and opened the bottom drawer and shoved them in the back with all the others. Then managed to shut the drawer and replace the lock before the captain finished his questions about the case.

Stabler and Benson were reporting on their canvas of the neighborhood and subsequent search for past pedophiles registered through the database. Munch glanced at his partner to make sure he was listening and taking notes, and when he was satisfied that he was, allowed his mind to wander back to what was haunting him in the locked bottom drawer of his desk.

He started receiving them a month ago. Small manila envelopes, each one had an article pertaining to the attempted murder of 3 Baltimore homicide detectives, each envelope coming form a different location in Charm City. At first he didn't think much of it, it had happened a long time ago - a simple search and seizure gone horribly wrong because of a clerical error. They should have been at apt. 210 - instead they ended up at 201 - a mistake that almost cost 3 of his fellow detectives their lives. And yet, as Stan, his ex-partner, loved to point out, all those bullets flew and not one hit Munch. Some how he'd gotten lucky - damn lucky. He never felt guilty about it, he never needed to. Everyone pulled through; the shooter was caught, but later released, only to be found with a bullet through his brain.

Munch wasn't guilty of that either. He wanted to be though. He wished he had though of it, done it first. But he didn't. He was at the hospital, where he should've been. But he wished he had done it. That's maybe why during the investigation he sounded a bit guilty, acted a bit guilty for the hope that they'd think he had done it. He was almost a bit sad when they didn't charge him with it. Almost sad, because prison didn't sound like THAT much fun.

So he didn't think much about the articles in their small manila envelopes. Until one day, it wasn't an article - it was a note, printed from a computer that simply read…

"THIS TIME, I WON'T MISS."

And reading that sent shivers up and down his spine. He stopped opening his mail, he didn't want to know what the others said, but at the same time, he was frightened. Frightened because he had no idea what was to happen next.

The phone ringing snapped him out of his deep thoughts.

"Munch, yeah, mmm, okay, great, thanks."

"What's up?" asked Benson.

"The ME has got a DNA match off the boy - a past pedophile named Brian Bosco."

"Great!" said Cragen, " Let's get an address for this guy and the 4 of you can go pick him up."

A sudden desa vu feeling swept over Munch. That day, back in Baltimore, they were supposed to be picking up a pedophile and searching for the dead boy's belt. And now, years later it was happening all over. His hands started to feel cold and clammy and he sincerely hoped no one would notice if his face went 4 shades paler than normal.

"John, you okay?" Benson came strolling towards him, as he wracked his brain for an excuse to his sudden physical condition.

"I bet you two haven't even had breakfast yet," came a welcomed response from Stabler.

"Yeah, I'm starvin'," replied Fin.

"We'll get Bosco's address and the warrant, and meet you two at Belzers - get some food, you need it!"

"Yeah, thanks," said Munch. He could only hope that it wasn't their last meal.