Hello. Kiki again. Thanks for reading Ch. 1 The Quiet Before and coming back for more. I'm ready to delve into a case and bring the the world of Special Victims in contact with the nascient Organized Crime Unit. I hope you enjoy.
The black Crown Vic doors slammed shut as Fin and Kat approached the crime scene. Fin pulled and tugged brown leather gloves onto his hands. Kat shoved her hands into her coat pockets. "Why don't you put in for an upgrade?" Kat asked regarding the squad car while they marched away from it, snow crunching beneath their feet. "You definitely have the seniority." Fin shot her an unamused look. "Seniority? This is OG SVU right here. A classic deserves a classic," he bragged, bending her joke into a point of pride. He brushed his shoulder off as if he himself was a freshly shined classic automobile, which added emphasis to his rebuttal. She gave a sarcastic ahh as props for his quick-witted defense. He continued, "Maybe you should stick to what you know best."
"And what's that?"
"Counting drops of sweat on the floor of the boxing ring."
A soft, restrained laugh escaped through the crack between his lips. The air that seemed to be expelled by a force within his chest appeared as white smoke in the low-temperature NYC air. Kat grinned, and they walked in step until they reached a gravelly drop-off on the South Manhattan end of the Henry Hudson Bridge. Examining the incline, Kat nudged a thumbnail-sized rock with the tip of her boot. It skipped down the steep hill and stopped at the bottom. A couple feet further, CSU picked and prodded the terrain on the edge of Spuyten Duyvil Creek. ME Melinda Warner was kneeling near the edge of the water with her back facing the incline. They both pulled their face masks on.
"Looks like a dump job," Kat said, initiating deliberation. Fin nodded in contemplation. Warner's brown curls spun to reveal her face, which was mostly copper in color except for her blueing lips. She tilted her head up slightly to acknowledge them. A young CSU tech peeked his head between Fin and Kat and told them, "We've established an easier path down. Just follow me." Carrying a small medical cooler, he led the two alongside the dropoff and down a less steep and more traffiicked passageway. Warner stood when they reached her and the body, and she strapped a surgical mask to her face. Fin asked, "How long you been here, Melinda?"
"Let's see - I got here at six am," she said, checking her watch. "It's going on 11 now..."
"Busy morning," Kat said, looking around at the scene.
"Busy and unfortunate," she exhausted. "Victim: white female. Early twenties. Recently gave birth to at least one infant."
"At least one?" Kat asked.
"Yes," Warner confirmed, matter-of-factly. Her eyes were like steel. Not shiny with tears, but simply hard, maybe brittle. And tired. She gestured to the CSU tech who'd walked Fin and Kat down. He was just closing up the medical cooler. "One infant we retrieved from the victim's birth canal in incomplete breech position. That means the head at the end of the womb opposite the canal and one foot up, one down," she said. "I believe the mother died with the infant between the flexion and extension stage of passage, as one foot did actually extend into the canal."
"How does that point to more than one baby?" Fin questioned.
"I'm getting to that," Warner snipped. "In that cooler we have an infant with the umbilical cord fully attached." She then kneeled down to the victim and folded back the white sheet to uncover an astonishing gash across the victim's pale belly, which was exposed because the victim wore only a beige bra above the waist. Fin squinted. Through the tear and with the absence of bleeding, it almost looked like a cavity now. She lifted the victim's violet, knee-length skirt. Pointing at a flaccid rope of flesh the color of a frozen red grapes' flesh, she clarified, "If you look here, you see a separate umbilical cord, cut. Probably a blade. Somewhere is another infant. Dead or alive? I don't know."
Warner put the skirt down to the victim's knees again and hid her under the sheet once more. Fin hardly wanted to inquire further. It was like Munch had once said to him: there's always a new, interesting way for the perps to up the ante of revulsion, as if part of some expansive network and they're competing with each other. Warner looked as if she might break or break someone else, a far cry from the usual professional, easy-going medical examiner they've known throughout her twenty plus years with Special Victims. She looked heavy, and not in weight.
Kat asked about cause of death. Warner answered, "Right now, it's a toss-up between birth-related COD and the laceration you saw. Doesn't look like she's been fully submerged in water, so no drowning, but I'll have to confirm whether there's water in the lungs." Fin asked, "Do you think someone tried to cut the babies out, and the victim died from the wound?" Kat leaned in, eager for information as Fin pushed. Warner's face went cold. "I don't know, Fin. I don't know Kat," she said, discernably irritated. "I need to get the body to the lab, and with all the evidence, before I can determine what kind of weapon could've ripped into her flesh, and definitely before I can provide a definitive COD. I've got to examine the infant to confirm whether a breath was ever taken. And I've got to stay here until the creek is thoroughly searched - hopefully dragged - in case anything turns up, because we're shorthanded thanks to Covid."
There was a silence between the three of them as Warner gathered herself behind her eyelids with a deep breath. Fin and Kat pretended not to be stunned. "I just won't know until I get them on the slab," Warner said with apologetic finality. Kat's phone rang, so she quietly excused herself and stepped away. Warner walked a couple strides away from the creek to her work bag. Her gloves snapped as she tugged them off like a doctor who's been defeated by some surgical complication.
"Melinda," Fin entreated. "You don't look like you're holding up too well."
"Why, thanks," she scoffed.
"What I mean is," he started, touching her elbow with one hand, "You need to be your first priority. Bodies will always turn up, but we only get one Melinda Warner, know what I mean?"
His eyes were sincere and humble, and it made her feel ashamed. She nodded her head up and down. She managed through the constriction of her throat, "I thought I'd seen tragedies, every day. I thought there was nothing more to see."
"I know," he agreed, adjusting the ear strap of his mask.
"No. You don't," she pleaded. "As a medical examiner, I deal with the remains of victims of the most heinous of crimes, and that's okay. That's another day on the job for years. Now we've added the sick and the dying, living patients to the itinerary, and with such an alarming frequency... All ages... All races... Only the lucky ones can afford private medical attention and to even seriously quarantine. Then I commute and see constant recklessness. All I see is insufficient policy, idiots, and collateral damage. Day in. Day out."
"You're right," Fin conceded. "I don't know."
Kat tapped Fin's arm with the back of her hand. He started to move away but was stopped by Warner's voice. "Last thing: I don't think she died here," she added. They nodded their farewells to Warner, then they approached the squad car, removing their masks again. On the way, Kat informed him that "Cap" and Amanda got surveillance from the bridge. "It appears to show a black male suspect dragging the victim's lifeless body to the railing before tossing her over," she divulged.
"Good start," Fin said. They opened their doors and were about to duck into the car when a voice called to Fin. It was not Warner's, but it was uncannily familiar. He quickly surveyed and saw a dark, grayscale figure of a man pacing toward him. It was Stabler. He let Kat know this was Olivia's old partner, and they met him at the hood of the car. Fin and Elliot both displayed closed-mouth smiles of cordiality and shook hands. Fin introduced Kat as future-detective Tamin. She said, "It's an honor to meet an old partner of Captain Benson."
"Imagine what an honor it was to be her partner," he replied, smiling a little wider.
"Kinda hard to imagine," Kat said. "I haven't heard much about you."
Fin diverted away from that by adding, "She doesn't really talk about any of her old partners, to be honest. Only when it's relevant to the case." Elliot was accepting. "Good to see you, anyway," he said to Fin. "The years been treating you well?" Fin looked over at the creek and how the sunlight reflected white on the small ripples. The creek and its shore were the only earth able to fend off the snow. "As good as they can be to anybody," he responded. Then he turned to Kat and asked if she can warm up the car. She nodded obediently, and when the car door shut Fin told Elliot this was a Special Victim.
"Well, actually, the victim may be special in two ways. It's possible this crime can lead to key clues in an organized crime interest."
"So it's true? You're OC?"
"That's right."
"What rank," Fin asked, curiously.
Elliot pursed his lips and the salt-and-pepper brows under his black beanie seemed to shelter his eyes more. He said detective. The conversation paused. Fin wondered briefly how Elliot, at his age and with his temperament, would fare as a detective in today's NYPD. Elliot was suspicious that Fin, and others, might doubt his ability to be an effective cop considering the cultural and departmental changes since his absence. He also questioned if such an issue would be valid, but despite his tumultuous career, he gave his all and almost his family and felt he earned the chance to recover his reputation and climb the ranks.
"Got a squad?"
"Not yet. I'm called in to provide OC insight and any assistance and to ascertain whether there are pieces to this crime that fit our puzzle. It's just me for now."
"Ah. I'll assume you can't tell me about the puzzle, so you'll want to talk to the Captain back at the 1-6."
"Great," Elliot concurred in a tone that suggested the extension of an olive branch. Fin opened the driver's side door, leaving Elliot standing in front of the car in his charcoal overcoat. He said one last thing: "If you still know the way." Elliot laughed under his breath. He was unsure if Fin intended that as a friendly jab or as a thinly veiled strike. Either way, he appreciated the affability.
Fin, on the other hand, did not put much emotional energy into how to approach Elliot. He resigned to treat him as anybody else on the force with whom he has a little history. And Fin understood the history is different, especially with Elliot's relationship to his captain and, not to mention, their own history together. His opinion of Elliot has always been riddled with conflict, except for one neutral conclusion to which he can always come: Stabler was "a good cop." For that reason, he could respect the man enough to give him the minimum, which is professionalism and, at worst, tolerance. At the same time, he was glad Olivia doesn't talk about Elliot. The less he's spoken of, the less Fin has to think about the complexities of the era of Elliot Stabler.
That concludes chapter 2 of "Rearray." You might be able to tell, the purpose of this chapter was to set the foundation for the case and the groundwork for the Bensler reunion. This gives me a basis on which to work out the details of the case and how it will connect SVU and OC for a well thought-out FanFic and reunion. Let me know your opinions and suggestions in a review.
PS: Did it feel like I was writing from Fin's POV? It wasn't intentional, but I didn't stop when I noticed because it feels natural. Next to Olivia, he's the most tenured and the one with whom we're most familiar.