Disclaimer: "SVU" is not mine. This story is, though, so please don't copy me.
CHAPTER THREE
DOINK-DOINK
Back at the precinct, Munch and Amy sat at his desk while he took her statement and waited for Elliot to return from the hospital with their victim. Amy seemed to be getting tired of repeating her story.
"Look, I'm sorry. This is all standard procedure," Munch explained.
"I know. My mouth is tired. I'm not used to talking this much at once," said Amy.
"Okay. Let's take a break. Can I get you anything? Coffee?"
"Sure."
Munch got up to fix some coffee for the two of them. As he did, Detective Olivia Benson entered the stationhouse.
"Hey, Munch," she said. "Where's Elliot?"
"Not here yet. He called you in?"
"Yeah. He said he can't get a word out of the vic and thought she might open up to a woman," said Olivia, glancing at Amy. "What's she doing here?"
"We thought she was the vic, but she's just a witness. It's all squared away. How'd you get away? I thought you were with the Peruvian girl – what was her name? Carmen?"
"Yeah. She wanted some sleep. Elliot called and now I'm here, but until he gets here, I'm crashing."
"I'll wake you when he's here."
"Thanks."
Munch brought Amy her coffee. She took a sip and sighed deeply.
"How have you been?" Munch asked her.
"Good."
"And have they found you a, uh…"
Munch trailed off mid-sentence, realizing that asking whether or not they'd found Amy a kidney probably wasn't the best topic of conversation. Amy, however, gave a small smile and shook her head.
"I'm still waiting," she said. "But I'm feeling better. I want to live."
"Good," said Munch, managing a small smile back.
"That's why I went to see Phillip Cornell. His lectures are so…hopeful. It's good for me."
"That's good. I'm glad you're taking care of yourself."
"Well, it's all thanks to you," said Amy, now grinning fully.
Munch didn't really know how to respond, so he took a sip of his coffee. As nice as it would have been to feel pride in being the one responsible for convincing Amy not to commit suicide, he felt a certain shame. True, a burden had been lifted when he'd told her about his father, but the guilt and grief he'd battled for decades had resurfaced and threatened to break free. He hated his father for what he'd done, but missed him terribly. He was angry at Amy for putting him in a position that forced him to revisit that part of his life, but grateful to have someone – anyone – to talk to without worry about being judged. After a moment, Amy laid a hand on his, a gesture that to the two of them was a symbol of their unspoken agreement to always be there for one another.
"Hey," she said. "It's going to be okay."
Munch knew she wasn't talking about her kidneys. He looked down at the table and their hands.
"I know," he said, and he gave her hand a little squeeze before letting go.
DOINK-DOINK
"Hi, Maria, I'm Olivia Benson. Can you tell me what happened?"
Elliot and Maria had finally arrived at the precinct and Olivia had joined them to try and take her statement. Maria shook her head and tucked a lock of her hair back. Elliot sighed and left the room.
"You've already gone to the hospital?"
Maria nodded.
"Maria, I know you're scared and I know you're tired, but I can't help you unless you talk to me."
Maria paused, and then picked up the pad of paper and pen Elliot had left behind. She began to write, slowly at first, and then a furious scribble. Finally, she handed the front-and-back page to Olivia, who read aloud:
"My name is Maria Sedivi, age twenty-nine. When I was twenty-six, I was beat up by my ex-husband. He hit me in the throat with a claw hammer and I lost my ability to speak. Tonight, the machine I use to speak was stolen when I was attacked again. What went on tonight was that I went into the bathroom to fix my hair before leaving. I heard someone come in behind me, but I couldn't see who because he put something over my face. He hit my shoulder and I fell against a stall, scratching my arm. He pulled my skirt off and pushed my underwear to the side, then raped me. When he stopped, he told me to close my eyes. He took the cover off of my face and left. He took my speaking machine with him. I didn't open my eyes until I heard the door close. I crawled across the floor to get my skirt, but before I could, I started crying. A lady in a wheelchair came in and asked what happened, but I couldn't say anything. She left and about half an hour later, the detective came and got me and took me to the hospital."
Olivia looked up. Maria was staring at the table, fighting not to cry.
"Did he say anything?" she asked, handing Maria a fresh piece of paper. She took it back after Maria had finished.
Olivia didn't read this out loud. She knew it would upset Maria greatly. She had written, "Good thing you can't scream".
