Authors note: If you haven't notice, I've made small changes here in there, just so the story flows better for the eyes. This is my favorite chapter so far. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm poor, so obvously this stuff ain't mine.

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It was 10:14pm. Inside his apartment, Detective John Munch was having a victory party of sorts. He was the only guest at this party and it certainly wasn't going to cause a ruckus that would wake his neighbors. On the contrary, that was normally his neighbor's job, causing the noise to wake the dead.

But tonight was his party. In his cd player was Lou Reed's "Busload of Faith" on repeat because the song reminded him of old times - when he was still sure that somewhere, someone would be the love of his life - unlike now, where 4 divorces and 7 yrs in SVU had sucked most of his hope dry. But tonight was for the good times - a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders when this case closed. He was sure that tonight the nightmares would end.

He sat on his couch in his old black bathrobe, flipping through one of the many magizines he received that were full of pointless information that probably interested only him. He half sang, half mumbled the words of the song playing over the speakers. The whistling sound from the kitchen reminded him that the water for his tea was ready.

He got up and headed towards the kitchen. Halfway there he did a little spin and shook. "Oh yeah, I've still got it" he thought.

Between the whistling of the kettle and the music playing, he was surprised to hear the noise coming from the fire escape. His back was facing the kitchen window that looked out over the scenic alleyway. "Darn alley cats" he thought. Then it all happened in slow motion.

John picked up the kettle and turned towards the window, recognizing a shape that defiantly wasn't a cat. The sound of the shot blast and the bullet cut through the air, but there was no time to react. Blinding pain shot through his shoulder - hot pain engulfed the left side of his body.

His mind was cloudy, confused. He couldn't find the kettle, it didn't matter. Somewhere he could hear the sounds of the shooter, but he couldn't tell what direction the man was going. "Where's my phone!" was his only thought - his only goal.

The couch -the end table! His strength gave out as he streched and reached the phone. He lost his glasses and couldn't see. He fumbled and hit the redial. He had no idea who he was calling, but it was ringing and that's all that mattered.

One Ring

Two Rings

Three - Please Pickup!

Fou - "Fin"

"Fin…"

"John? Is that you? What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"Fin…" Only the sounds of heavy breathing - he had to tell him!

"shot!…………….hel…………." the world went black.