A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I've been so busy with school, and my birthday and everything lately that I haven't had time to sit down and write. Hopefully the next update won't take so long.

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"Long lost words whisper slowly to me

Still can't find what keeps me here

When all this time I've been so hollow inside"

-"Haunted", Evanescence

Jensen Housing Projects

Apt. 23D

October 1st

A middle aged Arab-American woman who was sitting on her door mat stood up when she saw the two detectives. "My name is Nadira Shariq," she said, extending her hand. "I'm very glad to see the two of you."

Olivia introduced herself and Elliot, and then asked, "What happened?"

"I found this little girl sitting on my doorstep," Nadira explained. "She was crying, and when I came out to see what the noise was, she begged me not to let the bad man hurt her anymore."

"Where is she?" Olivia asked.

Nadira gestured for them to follow her inside. "She's sitting on my couch."

A little girl with long dark hair and large brown eyes was drinking apple juice. "Sweetheart?" Nadira said gently. "These two are police officers. They're here to talk to you."

She began to cry, and Elliot's heart went out to her. That was one of the worst parts of his job: seeing so many innocent children cry. "I didn't do anything wrong, did I?" she sobbed.

"No, of course you didn't," Elliot said soothingly. "We're here to help you, okay?"

She peered at him through her curtain of hair. "Okay," she whispered.

"My name is Elliot. What's yours?"

"Inocenta."

"She wouldn't tell me her name," Nadira said.

Olivia pulled her into the other room, so Elliot and Inocenta could talk.

"Where do you live?" he asked.

"With my mommy. She's not home from work yet."

"How old are you?"

"Eight."

"Do you stay home alone often?"

Inocenta shook her head. "Never. I have a babysitter. Can I go home now?"

"No. We're going to the police station instead. Won't that be exciting?"

"Are you going to stay with me?"

Elliot smiled. "If you want me to."

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Elliot continued down the tunnel, the light never seeming to get closer. Then, suddenly, he tripped over something on the ground. He looked down and saw a dead man's body. "Gunshot wound to the head," Elliot heard himself say.

"Correct." The dead man sat up. "You win the solid gold kewpie doll. But you still need to ID the body." He held a drivers' license in his cold, pasty white hand.

Elliot read it then took large step backwards. "This is my license."

He looked down and saw himself. "Look what you're doing to yourself," The dead man whispered.

A tall Hispanic woman burst into the Special Victims Unit. "Where's my daughter?" she screamed. "There are police officers outside of my apartment, and they said I'd find her here."

Her screams pulled Elliot out of his dream. "Is your daughter Inocenta Vasquez?" he asked.

The woman nodded. "Yes. Where the hell is she, and what is the Special Victims Unit?"

"We deal in sexually based offenses," he said cautiously.

"WHAT!" the woman screamed. "My daughter was raped?"

"Why don't we step into another room?"

He poured the woman a cup of coffee. "We believe your daughter may have been abused."

She turned pale. "What? I don't understand; she was at her babysitter's apartment."

"Do you know anyone that lives in the Jensen Projects?"

"Where? No, I don't."

"Well, that's where we found her." He took out a notepad. "What's the name of her babysitter?"

"Rita Scion." She shook her head. "I can't believe this is happening," she muttered.

Apartment of Rita Scion

The Bronx, New York

October 2

Elliot rapped on the door. "This is the police. Open up."

A pale woman his hair so blonde it was nearly white opened the door. "I am she," she said in an ethereal voice. "May I help you?"

"May we come in?" asked Olivia.

"Be my guest." She turned her back on the detectives and lithely walked into her living room.

Elliot and Olivia looked at each other and then followed Rita inside. "Sit down," she beckoned. "The heavens told me that you were coming," she said.

"Eh?" Elliot said unintelligently.

Rita smiled serenely. "That's right. My goddess told me. It's about that little girl, isn't it?"

"How would you know that?" Olivia asked suspiciously.

"Ah, a nonbeliever. You will learn in time. I could feel part of her soul die. Detective Stabler can feel souls die, too."

Elliot blinked several times. How does she know my name? Did I introduce myself and forget that I did? I'm not THAT crazy, am I? "Have we met?" Please don't say we hooked up in a bar, please don't say it.

"We met on a distant plane," she said dreamily. "But you're a lot better looking in person."

Olivia handed Rita her card, trying hard not to laugh. "If you have any information about Inocenta Vasquez, call this number."

"I shall, I shall."

The detectives managed to keep from laughing until they reached their car. "That was interesting," Olivia said.

"Interesting, my ass! That woman's on crack."

Olivia started the car. Then, suddenly, something smashed through the back window. It was a brick with a piece of paper wrapped around it. Not again, Elliot thought, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"'Why are you still here, Detective?'" Olivia read. "'I would have thought you'd gone over the edge by now. I guess it's up to me to push you.'"

Elliot ripped the paper to shreds. "Let's just go," he muttered.

Back in Rita's apartment, a man came out of her closet. "Thank God that's over," she said to him. "They must have thought I was high or something."

"Don't worry; it will all be over soon," the man said. He wrapped his arm around her. It will all be over soon. You couldn't resist helping another victim, could you, Stabler?

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A/N: Ooh, the suspense! I hope the dream sequence made some sense.