Disclaimer: I do not own any of the following: Law and Order: SVU, Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler, Donald Cragen, John Munch, Odafin Tutuola, Casey Novak, the "doink-doink", or anything else that has previously appeared on any of the Law and Order shows. I do, however, own the other stuff. But I really wish I owned the rest. Alas, I am forced to write fan fictions and just pretend. Don't steal my stuff. If you do, karma will bite you in the ass.

CHAPTER ONE

In the criminal justice system, sexually based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as the Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.

DOINK-DOINK

"Name is Jessica Turner, age six. Single stab wound to the abdomen, multiple burns to the arms and feet. Allergic to sulfur and penicillin. Detective, you're going to have to wait outside. As soon as we know anything, we'll tell you."

"She may have a concussion. Be sure to check for that!"

"We will. I'll let you know."

It had begun as simply a response to a report of a distrustful man hanging around the playground – a suspected pedophile. Detectives Odafin "Fin" Tutuola and John Munch had arrived on the scene to scope it out when Munch saw a little girl lying on the ground. He approached her to see whether she was okay and saw the blood staining her yellow dress. Now, after arriving at the hospital, Munch found himself barking orders to the paramedics in a desperate attempt to save the child.

"John," said Fin. "Come on, sit down."

"I can't sit down," Munch snapped back, watching the stretcher with the tiny form of Jessica Turner disappear. "Where's this kid's mother?"

"Could have been a dump job."

"In the playground at two o'clock in the afternoon?"

"You never know."

"Someone would have seen. Some freak stabbed this little girl and split."

"Look, we don't know anything yet. Just take a second and we'll figure it out."

Munch wheeled around and looked right into his partner's eyes. He didn't say anything, but fixed him with a steely glare that clearly said he wanted answers right away.

"Coffee? Decaf?" quipped Fin as he absented himself to allow Munch to calm down.

"Munch?"

Detectives Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler had arrived, along with Captain Donald Cragen. Olivia had been the one to call his name, and Munch saw the familiar look in her eyes that she got whenever a child was involved in a case.

"What's happening?" asked Elliot.

"Got a call about some park pervert. When we went to check it out, I found the little girl. Jessica Turner, six years old. She's been stabbed."

"God," said Cragen. "Stabbed?"

"Pretty badly, too," said Munch. "I don't know how she's doing."

Fin returned with the coffee.

"Hear anything yet?" he asked.

"It's been about twelve seconds since we got here. I have no idea. What the hell is this? Mocha?" said Munch, taking the coffee from his partner.

"How about you take your Midol and stop snapping at me?" Fin shot back.

"What's going on with you, Fin?"

"What do you mean?"

"We find a six-year-old girl almost dead in a playground and you're here acting like a heartless prick? Do you even care?"

Something flashed in Fin's eyes. "Yes, I care," he said, much more seriously. "I'm trying to distract myself until we find out more."

"Until then," said Cragen. "Let's check out the crime scene. Elliot, Olivia, would you?"

"Sure," said Elliot, and he left with Olivia.

"I'm going to see what I can do back at the station," said Cragen. "Call me as soon as you hear anything."

Cragen left. Nearly an hour passed before a young doctor came up to Fin and Munch. Both men stood to greet him.

"Is she okay, doc?" asked Munch.

"We lost her," said the doctor. "She lost too much blood and on top of that, she was poisoned."

"Poisoned?" repeated Fin as Munch sat back down. "With what?"

"Some sort of acid. My best guess is that your perp poured it into the wound."

"That's sick," Fin muttered.

"Thank you, doctor," said Munch.

"We contacted her parents. Good call noticing her ID bracelet, Detective Tutuola. I don't think we'd have seen it otherwise. They should be here any minute, so…they'll need to…you know," the doctor trailed off.

"ID the body. Right."

"Well," said the young doctor. "I'll let you do your job."

The doctor went off through the double doors. Fin sat down next to his partner. It was rare to see him in such a state. He looked as though it were his own child who had just died.

"Hey," said Fin. "We can let Elliot and Olivia take over here and go to the crime scene instead."

"No," said Munch. "I found the girl. I'm staying here."

"Excuse me, are you the police?"

The detectives looked up to see a terrified-looking woman being held by an equally scared man. They had to be the Turners. Mrs. Turner was holding a photograph of her daughter.

"Yes. I'm Detective Munch. This is my partner, Detective Tutuola. I assume you're here about Jessica?"

"Yes," said Mr. Turner. "Is she all right?"

Munch hated this part. "She passed away, sir."

Mrs. Turner began to sob. Her husband helped her into a chair and sat down next to her.

"What happened?"

"She was stabbed," said Fin.

"Oh, God!" Mrs. Turner burst out.

"I just don't…she was…where's Melissa?" asked Mr. Turner, looking dazed.

"Who, sir?" asked Fin.

"Her babysitter. Melissa Volley. She's a neighbor of ours. I don't see her here. Is she with Jessica?"

"We actually never saw her," said Munch.

"You can't find her?"

"We didn't know she was missing."

Fin gave Munch a Look and addressed Mrs. Turner. "Ma'am, I can't imagine how hard this is for you, but we do need you to identify your daughter. Do you think you can do it?"

Mrs. Turner nodded. Fin and Munch led the couple to the window where they could identify their tiny daughter's body.

"Take your time. No rush," said Munch. "Just look whenever you're ready, okay?"

Mr. Turner took a breath and turned. He choked on a gasp of air and twisted back around.

"It's her. Don't look, honey. It's her," he said.

"No, I have to see," said Mrs. Turner, and she looked at the lifeless form of her little girl.

It was a long moment. Munch and Fin looked at each other uncomfortably. Mr. Turner put a hand on his wife's shoulder and guided her away from the sight.

"Detectives?" Mrs. Turner asked in a broken voice.

"Yes, ma'am?" said Fin.

"When you find whoever did this to my little girl, shoot the bastard."