A/N: This fic has Munch a little more in character than my other fics do. I really hope Nellie doesn't seem like a Mary-Sue, but if she does, please tell me and I'll fix it. All feedback is welcome and appreciated!
August 9, 2004
Munch's Apartment
3:30 A.M.
John Munch awoke early to the ringing of his cell phone. He reached onto his bedside table and brought the phone to his ear, groggily. "This had better be big."
"Nice to talk to you, too, John," said a familiar laughing voice on the other end of the line.
"Stabler, it's three thirty in the morning. I have an odd feeling you didn't call to say how are you."
"No, in fact, this is business. A girl came in about an hour ago and reported that someone raped her. We took her to the hospital, and she gave us every detail except the name of her attacker. Cragen wants you to try to get it out of her."
"Why? Doesn't that seem a little harsh to you?"
"We don't want you to interrogate her, just talk to her," Elliot explained. "She knows who it is, she's just not telling us. You know how much easier are jobs would be if she tells us."
Munch sighed. "Fine. What's the girl's name?"
"Nellie Rivers."
"How old?" Munch asked. He had a feeling that he wouldn't like the answer.
"Only thirteen."
"God damn it." Munch shook his head.
"You're telling me. I keep picturing her as Lizzie or Kathleen," Elliot said, with a slight shudder in his voice. "Cragen told me to order you down to the hospital in half an hour or less."
"What ever the captain says. Oh, and before you go?"
"Yeah?"
"If you ever call me this early in the morning again, I'm going to shove my cell phone up your ass," Munch threatened. Elliot just laughed.
"Dually noted. See ya in a few." Click.
Hospital
4:00 A.M.
Elliot looked up as Munch entered the waiting area. It was on the third floor of the hospital. "She's in with Olivia," he told him, motioning with his head to a closed door across the hallway.
"Have you all talked to her?" Munch asked.
"Me, Olivia, and Cragen. Fin's not in yet. He's the last resort." Elliot gave Munch a knowing smile.
"To think I used to be the last resort," Munch reminisced, sarcastically. "How the years fly when you're questioning witnesses."
Elliot chuckled a little as Munch passed him, walking into the room.
Olivia sat next to the bed of a small teenage girl with moussy brown hair. Her eyes were tear stained, the left one had signs of swelling, She breathed heavily, as if willing herself not to cry. Her head snapped nervously in his direction as Munch entered the room.
Olivia stood up when she saw him. "Nellie, this is my friend, John. He's going to talk to you for a while. Okay?"
"Doesn't matter to me," the girl said with a shrug. Olivia gave Munch a good-luck look and left. Munch sat down in her chair.
"Hey, Nellie," he greeted as kindly as he could. "I heard about what happened."
"I figured," she said, angirly, "or you wouldn't be in here. What I DIDN'T know was that the detective I told would broadcast the fact that I was RAPED to the GOD DAMN WORLD!"
Munch didn't even bat an eyelash at this sudden outburst. He was used to it. Instead, he said, reasonably, "I'm in the unit that's trying to help you. A total of five people, including me, know about your attack. That's not all that much."
"Yeah, well, that's four more people than I told, isn't it?" she said, glaring.
"Who did you originally talk to?"
"The guy with the girls' name," Nellie told him. "Ellen or something dumb like that."
"His name's Elliot," Munch said, excersising great self control not to laugh, or show that he was amused at all. "And what do you propose he was supposed to do about your attack if he didn't tell anybody?"
"WILL YOU STOP SAYING I WAS ATTACKED?!" she shouted, clenching her fists. "Somebody raped me, he didn't beat me up! And I... just let him..."
She looked down at the bedsheets and drew her knees up under her chin.
"This wasn't your fault, Nellie," Munch consoled. Her head snapped back up to glare at him.
"Do I look stupid to you?" she asked, rhetorically. "I know very well that this is that jackass's fault. But it's MY fault I didn't punch him in the nose... or struggle at all..."
She looked away.
"Well, when we arrest this guy, I'll hit his head on the squad car for you... accidentally, of course," Munch promised. He saw her smile a little. "But in order to do that, we need his name."
"I didn't tell those other cops," she spat, her smile retreating. "What makes you think you're any different?"
Munch leaned forward. "I don't have a girl's name."
Nellie smiled in spite of herself and looked at him for a while. Finally, she said, "You're right. You are different. You're like me."
"How's that?"
"We're both smartasses." Munch knew the other detectives would have a good laugh over that one if they found out.
"Me? A smartass? I prefer witty with a bubbling charm."
"Well, I'd prefer to be at the zoo right now," Nellie teased, "but ain't life a bitch."
Munch gave a small smile, but moved on.
"We aren't here to compare notes, kid, and no matter how much I love being called a smartass by a thirteen-year-old who is obviously an expert on the subject, I have a job to do."
Nellie smiled sadly. "Too bad. I was having fun talking to you. And I don't want to disappoint you."
"Why would you disappoint me?"
Nellie shook her head. "I don't know if I could bring myself to say his name."
"Well, you take your time, okay? We have all the time in the world."
"He was... so nice, when I first met him," she began. "Then they got married and it all... turned around."
"Who got married?" Munch asked, kindly, trying not to pressure her too much. Nellie sighed.
"Him and my mom," she told him. "The guy who did this... was my... stepfather. Jeff Grey."
August 9, 2004
Munch's Apartment
3:30 A.M.
John Munch awoke early to the ringing of his cell phone. He reached onto his bedside table and brought the phone to his ear, groggily. "This had better be big."
"Nice to talk to you, too, John," said a familiar laughing voice on the other end of the line.
"Stabler, it's three thirty in the morning. I have an odd feeling you didn't call to say how are you."
"No, in fact, this is business. A girl came in about an hour ago and reported that someone raped her. We took her to the hospital, and she gave us every detail except the name of her attacker. Cragen wants you to try to get it out of her."
"Why? Doesn't that seem a little harsh to you?"
"We don't want you to interrogate her, just talk to her," Elliot explained. "She knows who it is, she's just not telling us. You know how much easier are jobs would be if she tells us."
Munch sighed. "Fine. What's the girl's name?"
"Nellie Rivers."
"How old?" Munch asked. He had a feeling that he wouldn't like the answer.
"Only thirteen."
"God damn it." Munch shook his head.
"You're telling me. I keep picturing her as Lizzie or Kathleen," Elliot said, with a slight shudder in his voice. "Cragen told me to order you down to the hospital in half an hour or less."
"What ever the captain says. Oh, and before you go?"
"Yeah?"
"If you ever call me this early in the morning again, I'm going to shove my cell phone up your ass," Munch threatened. Elliot just laughed.
"Dually noted. See ya in a few." Click.
Hospital
4:00 A.M.
Elliot looked up as Munch entered the waiting area. It was on the third floor of the hospital. "She's in with Olivia," he told him, motioning with his head to a closed door across the hallway.
"Have you all talked to her?" Munch asked.
"Me, Olivia, and Cragen. Fin's not in yet. He's the last resort." Elliot gave Munch a knowing smile.
"To think I used to be the last resort," Munch reminisced, sarcastically. "How the years fly when you're questioning witnesses."
Elliot chuckled a little as Munch passed him, walking into the room.
Olivia sat next to the bed of a small teenage girl with moussy brown hair. Her eyes were tear stained, the left one had signs of swelling, She breathed heavily, as if willing herself not to cry. Her head snapped nervously in his direction as Munch entered the room.
Olivia stood up when she saw him. "Nellie, this is my friend, John. He's going to talk to you for a while. Okay?"
"Doesn't matter to me," the girl said with a shrug. Olivia gave Munch a good-luck look and left. Munch sat down in her chair.
"Hey, Nellie," he greeted as kindly as he could. "I heard about what happened."
"I figured," she said, angirly, "or you wouldn't be in here. What I DIDN'T know was that the detective I told would broadcast the fact that I was RAPED to the GOD DAMN WORLD!"
Munch didn't even bat an eyelash at this sudden outburst. He was used to it. Instead, he said, reasonably, "I'm in the unit that's trying to help you. A total of five people, including me, know about your attack. That's not all that much."
"Yeah, well, that's four more people than I told, isn't it?" she said, glaring.
"Who did you originally talk to?"
"The guy with the girls' name," Nellie told him. "Ellen or something dumb like that."
"His name's Elliot," Munch said, excersising great self control not to laugh, or show that he was amused at all. "And what do you propose he was supposed to do about your attack if he didn't tell anybody?"
"WILL YOU STOP SAYING I WAS ATTACKED?!" she shouted, clenching her fists. "Somebody raped me, he didn't beat me up! And I... just let him..."
She looked down at the bedsheets and drew her knees up under her chin.
"This wasn't your fault, Nellie," Munch consoled. Her head snapped back up to glare at him.
"Do I look stupid to you?" she asked, rhetorically. "I know very well that this is that jackass's fault. But it's MY fault I didn't punch him in the nose... or struggle at all..."
She looked away.
"Well, when we arrest this guy, I'll hit his head on the squad car for you... accidentally, of course," Munch promised. He saw her smile a little. "But in order to do that, we need his name."
"I didn't tell those other cops," she spat, her smile retreating. "What makes you think you're any different?"
Munch leaned forward. "I don't have a girl's name."
Nellie smiled in spite of herself and looked at him for a while. Finally, she said, "You're right. You are different. You're like me."
"How's that?"
"We're both smartasses." Munch knew the other detectives would have a good laugh over that one if they found out.
"Me? A smartass? I prefer witty with a bubbling charm."
"Well, I'd prefer to be at the zoo right now," Nellie teased, "but ain't life a bitch."
Munch gave a small smile, but moved on.
"We aren't here to compare notes, kid, and no matter how much I love being called a smartass by a thirteen-year-old who is obviously an expert on the subject, I have a job to do."
Nellie smiled sadly. "Too bad. I was having fun talking to you. And I don't want to disappoint you."
"Why would you disappoint me?"
Nellie shook her head. "I don't know if I could bring myself to say his name."
"Well, you take your time, okay? We have all the time in the world."
"He was... so nice, when I first met him," she began. "Then they got married and it all... turned around."
"Who got married?" Munch asked, kindly, trying not to pressure her too much. Nellie sighed.
"Him and my mom," she told him. "The guy who did this... was my... stepfather. Jeff Grey."