AN: Greetings all. I'm not new to fan fiction (I've been writing on this site for a year and a half- all SVU stuff), but I'm new to writing CI fics, so I'd love any input, advice, or suggestions you could give me. One thing I'd like to know…does Detective Barek have kids, and is she married? Do we know?
Disclaimer: They're not mine, no one's paying me, don't sue. Property of Dick Wolf. Hail to him.
Rating: PG-13 for now.
Spoilers: Mention of the 'Law and Order' second season premiere…
Residence of Mike Logan
Monday, July 10th, 6:15 AM
Manhattan, New York
Mike Logan groaned inwardly upon hearing a knock at the door. At this hour, it could only be one of three possibilities: a drunk, a solicitor, or the Mormon down the hall who just wouldn't take "agnostic" for an answer, and he was willing to bet on the last one.
"Daniel, I already told you…Mrs. Jackson. Everything okay?"
Mike smiled down at the elderly women who he knew lived just across the hall.
"Mike. Sorry to be here this early, but I wanted to catch you before you went to work, and I know you're supposed to be there for seven, so here I am."
"Is there something I can do for you?" He asked, still concerned.
"Do you know Rebecca Andrews?" She asked, "Fifteen year old who lives in 408 with her mother?"
Mike shook his head. He doubted he would ever be walking the halls of his apartment at the same hours as a teenage girl.
"I heard a lot of shouting and banging coming from their apartment last night, and Rebecca usually leaves around six to go for a run, but I didn't hear her leave…I'm a little worried about her. Do you think you could go make sure everything's okay? I'd do it myself, but…well…"
"Of course," Mike said, "No problem."
He had liked Marie Jackson from the moment she had come to introduce herself to him when he had moved in. She reminded him of Marie Greevey, the wife of Max Greevey, who had been his partner for a time when he worked in homicide.
Walking to apartment 408, he was surprised to find the door ajar.
"Hello?" Mike called, opening the door, "Is anyone home?"
Silence. He smelled the stench of alcohol before he saw the bottles littering the coffee table, along with the cigarettes. For a moment, but just a moment, he was eleven years old again, walking into his childhood home. Then, reality kicked in. He was an adult; he was a cop; he was here to make sure that all was okay in the Andrews' residence.
He continued to walk throughout the apartment.
"Is anybody here?" He called again, standing once more by the entrance.
A muffled sob escaped from the closet by the entrance, and Mike turned to it, pulling it open, exposing a young girl who he presumed was Rebecca Andrews. Instantly, Mike found himself having to force back the bile rising. He thought he had seen evil done to some of the victims he'd seen over his years on the force; thought he'd seen depravity. But seeing the battered body of a fifteen year old child…
He knew nothing could have prepared him for the sensation he felt. The hatred towards the abuser, the hatred at the evil, hate for all the assholes who could find it within their deluded souls to take their self-hatred out on their own child with a belt, or a cigarette, or their fist…it all flooded him.
And then he forced it back, knowing that his hatred was not what was important right now. What was important was the shivering, scared girl in front of him.
"Are you Rebecca?"
She nodded, tears filling her eyes.
"Please don't hurt me…" She begged, "Please…I'll do whatever you want, just…don't…"
"It's alright, sweetheart. It's alright. My name is Mike. I'm a police officer. I'm here to help you, okay?"
Rebecca just looked at him, fear still in her eyes. Mike hated that; hated that she felt afraid of him. Hated that he knew the extent of what she was going through.
"Come on," Mike said, non-threateningly reaching out towards her, "Come on. It's okay. You're safe now."
It was as he gently helped her up that he first realized the severity of the beating she had taken; bruises, cuts and burns covered her body, all, Mike could tell, in various stages of healing.
"Who did this to you, Rebecca?" He asked.
He saw her fighting back the tears, forcing back her pain; forcing back everything.
"My…mother…"
With that, no longer able to hold it in, Rebecca started to cry- broken, ragged sobs, each one breaking Mike's heart a little further. Slowly giving into compassion, Mike shed the professionalism he'd been clinging to as his only hope of not letting this get personal.
And yet he had known from the moment he pulled open the closet, the second he had laid eyes on her, that it was personal. It was going to hit him hard, regardless of how much he tried to block it out; there was no stopping it. He had been her. He'd been the child cowering in a closet once, begging his mother not to hurt him. And he wasn't going to let her return to this. No matter what it took; no matter what he had to do.
He would not let her go back to living like this.
Mike tentatively pulled her into his arms, holding her in a first unsure, then decidedly paternal embrace. He continued to hold her, softly whispering to her until her sobs died down, his voice at a soothing pitch.
"Shhh…" He whispered, wiping away the tears still on her cheeks, "It's over, Rebecca. It's over."
Mike took her hand in his, leading her towards the door.
"We need to get you to a hospital."
St. Mark's Hospital
Monday, July 10th, 7:30 AM
Carolyn Barek's POV
I walk into Saint Mark's, my eyes taking in almost too much at once. I see the dreariness of the waiting room; the exhaustion, sadness, pain, and anger that is radiating from the people around me. I see nurses and doctors hurrying throughout the corridors, the chaotic importance of their jobs the only thing keeping them going.
I see all these things, and yet my focus rests on one person; the center of the flurry happening around me- my partner, Mike Logan. It's been a year now since I became his partner, and over that year, I've seen him in about a million different moods; dealing with a ton of different emotions. Pain. Anger. Pure hatred. Forgiveness. Empathy. Apathy. Right now, however, he has an emotion etched in every line of his face that I've never seen in him before: total, complete fear.
That almost scares me. Mike doesn't show fear. At least, not to me. So when our eyes meet, and not a thing chances, that fear begins to set in me.
He called me an hour ago, told me to meet him at Saint Mark's. He told me that he was fine, and yet, I still worried the whole way here, and as I sit beside him, my heart racing, the fear starts to build.
"What happened?"
"I found a girl in my apartment building before I left for work this morning. She lives down the hall from me…and I found her…in the closet of her apartment…beaten to a bloody pulp." Mike says to me, anger becoming more and more apparent with every syllable.
"How's she doing now?"
You gotta love that incredible maternal drive that, I swear, all women develop in time, regardless of whether or not they have children. How you can fear for a child not your own, how you can love them, feel for them, mother them…
It's an emotion I've often doubted that men understand. But when I look in his eyes, I see something that's also never been there before: the slightest hint of an almost parental fear.
"She's hanging in there. She's got cuts, bruises, and second-degree burns all over her body, all in various stages of healing. She's suffering from malnutrition, dehydration, and there's evidence from the rope burn on her wrists that she's…been tied up for up to seventy-two hours…"
His voice is cracking, and I can tell from the disgust in his voice that there's more he's not telling me.
"Anything else?"
"She's been raped. She refused to talk about it, but she was bleeding from her…" Mike said, fury flashing in his eyes, "She consented to the rape kit, I called SVU…"
"Isn't…Mike, we could take care of this…we've investigated rape and abuse cases before."
He looks at me, about to answer, when a nurse walks into the waiting room.
"Detective Logan?" She calls.
"Yes?" Mike says, practically springing from his seat, the fear in his eyes increasing.
"You can see her now."
I don't think anything could have stopped him as he hurried to her room. I give it a moment, wondering if I should go with him, or stay here. After several moments, I choose to go to her room. There's a glass window, the blinds up, and looking through it, I see Rebecca for the first time, and a jolt of pain rushes through me. I doubt I'll ever be able to fathom how a parent could do something so cruel to their own child. I look at her bruised face, the pain that fills her vivid blue eyes, and I hate the fact that she looks so alone. Until I register the fact that she isn't alone because Mike is there with her.
She's shivering under the mound of blankets on her bed; shivering with a force that I can tell is completely internal; a shivering that I doubt will cease for some time.
But I'm wrong. Because a moment after Mike takes her hand between his own, her shivering ceases.
TBC. Please review! Good, bad, indifferent, any suggestions…I'll take anything, but if you think it sucks, I'd be really happy if you could tell me that in a constructive way instead of flaming me.
