Author: ScribbleDream
Disclaimer: They aren't mine and it has taken me months of therapy to be able to admit that.
Summary:No pairing."Kidnapping. It's not just for kids anymore." A story complete with much rantings and ravings of John Munch.
Rating: T
Author's Note: Just please review constructively. It helps a lot! I've had this story written for a while, but I just decided to post it. Hope you like!
Love,
Scribs
Chapter One: Silence
John Munch woke up. Well, he wasn't exactly sure if he had really woken up. He opened his eyes, though, he knew that much. As for waking up, it was hard to tell. His external senses were definitely working, but other than that, he still felt like he was in a dream. He didn't remember falling asleep in this room, this dark, dusty, stone room. It seemed like a basement, he realized. The windows were high and didn't provide much light, and there were pipes along the walls, as well as a really noisy furnace that was giving him a headache.
No, it wasn't the furnace that was giving him the headache, he decided. He already had the headache, the furnace was just making it worse. And it wasn't really that noisy, but his headache amplified any noise. He reach his arm up to touch the top of his head and felt a bump. Yep, head injury. Figured. Now, where the hell was he?
He searched his jacket pockets for his cell phone, his gun, his wallet, anything, but all the pockets were emptied. Even his pants pockets, although he usually only carried change in there. He groaned and rested his head on the wall behind him and searched the room for some evidence of where he was.
As he looked around, he realized something was wrong with his vision. He reached to his eyes and discovered the problem: his glasses were gone. No wonder everything seemed blurry and dream-like.
Munch began to crawl around the room searching for them. This is dignified, he thought sardonically, but still searched. He wondered where he was, who had brought him here, and how he had gotten the bump on his head, but the first thing was first. He could figure out a lot more if he could see, that was for sure.
His hand finally came to rest on something cold, thin, and metal. He lifted his glasses up to his face, noting that there was a large crack in one of the lenses, but ignoring it. It was better than nothing.
Seeing didn't really help him establish where he was. He was sure now that he was in a basement, a pretty small one. He saw some stairs that lead to a door that he really didn't feel like climbing with his headache, but he knew he had to. He grabbed one of the pipes on the walls and pulled himself up, instantly feeling light headed. Munch fell forward and caught himself with his hand on the concrete floor. "Shit!" he said loudly, and was surprised to hear something shuffling around the room.
He managed to sit up and, still a little dizzy, called, "Who's there?"
There was no answer, but the shuffling increased. He listened hard, trying to figure out where it was coming from. It stopped. He called again. "Who's there? Come out! I'm a police officer!"
The shuffling resumed, and Munch zeroed his gaze under the stairs. He saw something moving under there. Too small to be an adult or a teenager. He picked himself up, slower this time, and leaned against the wall to adjust to the dizzyness. When it had mostly subsided, he took a step towards the stairs. The shuffling sound increased. When he got to the stairs, he looked under them.
Two wide eyes stared at him and a small mouth was open, but no sound was made. The girl was tiny, she looked only about seven or eight and skinny for her age. He recognized the wide grey eyes and braided black hair, although the braid was substantially more messy than when he'd seen a picture of it. Her jean overalls were torn at the knees and side, and she wasn't wearing a shirt under them. Munch knew this girl. She was the girl the SVU had been looking for for over a week.
"Bethany? Are you Bethany Owens?" The girl just stared at him and shivered, pushing herself farther into the corner with her bare feet. Well, I know where the shuffling came from then, he thought. "Listen, Bethany, I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a police detective. We've been looking for you for a long time."
The girl continued to stare with her mouth open, but the shuffling decreased a bit. She was obviously shivering. It was freezing down there, and her with no shirt. There was something he was supposed to remember about this girl... but the bump on his head was stopping him from remembering it. He rubbed the back of his head and sat down, leaning against the wall. He looked sideways at her and smiled as best he could. "I'm here to help you, Bethany. I'm not going to hurt you."
The shuffling stopped, but she stayed as far away from his as possible. There was something he knew about her... something... but he couldn't remember. Something the mother had told him when she came in crying that her little girl had been snatched. Something...
He shook his head, trying to jog his memory, and regretted it instantly, as it brought the pain throbbing into his head. He looked at Bethany, and felt sick with her shivering like that. Slowly, painstakingly, he took off his jacket and handed it to her. She just looked from the jacket to Munch, and back to the jacket again.
"It's okay, Bethany," he said, soothingly. "You can wear my jacket. It'll make you warmer."
She looked at him for a few more seconds and then snatched the jacket as though he was going to take it away from her at any moment. She pulled it over herself like a blanket and continued to watch him. He tried to smile at her, but couldn't manage it for very long. He was so tired and his head hurt so much... and all she did was watch him as he drifted off... he was almost asleep... he just wanted to sleep...
And then it hit him like a lightning bolt. The thing he was supposed to remember about eight-year-old Bethany Owens just shot into his mind. He had asked his mother if the girl had yelled or anything when the man grabbed her, and Mrs. Owens said, "No. Bethany couldn't yell if she tried. She's never spoken a word in her life. She's mute."
He turned his head ever so slowly to look at Bethany crouching there under the stairs with his jacket over her. "I'm sorry, Bethany," he said softly, so softly that he wasn't sure if she even heard him, or if he even said anything at all. "I'm sorry..."
And he finally did drift into sleep.
A/N: Tell me what you think! I hope you guys like it... but if not, tell me what you do think! o.O