Disclaimer: I do not own Law and Order: SVU. It belongs to a genius named Dick Wolf. No profit is being made from this story.

Author's Note: Please take notice of the rating before reading this story. This is going to be a very long and tedious story, and I ask for as much patience as possible. I am trying out a different format for this story as I feel it will be the best for the effect I am working for. The subject matter and content are extremely graphic, and so if anyone feels it is inappropriate I ask that you do not read.

The cold wrapped around his entire body worse than he had ever felt before, almost like it was coming from the inside out. The t-shirt he wore had long ago soaked. His jeans had been cut off at some point in the beginning and the remains of his boxer shorts did little to protect his exposed lower body.

Water rippled gently up to his nose and he scrunched it quickly, the simple movement causing so much pain that he nearly passed out. Every sinew in his body ached to the point that he couldn't even muster the strength to take a full breath.

The dirty rag shoved tightly into his mouth tasted bitter from his vomit. It had touched the back of his throat and his gag reflex had instantly reacted. He had thrown up twice before he was able to calm down and force himself to breathe through his nose.

The ropes on his hands were soaked with the water, but it didn't make them any looser. Not that it really mattered; his hands were past the point of numb now. Even if they were completely free, he doubted that he could lift a single finger.

His genitals throbbed with every shiver that racked his body and the skin between his legs felt raw, but it was the ache deep inside that was the most painful. Nothing he did helped to ease it. He had shifted position so many times, but since they had left him on his back every movement was torture.

The reeds around him were tall enough to hide him from view, so they didn't have to worry about anyone seeing him from the sky, and he was in no condition to try and escape. He was completely helpless, in every sense of the word.

He sucked in a breath through his sobs, trying to be as quiet as he could. The last time they had heard him crying, one of them had shoved his head under the water until he was on the brink of unconsciousness and then beat him with a rod until he collapsed into the dirt.

In the beginning, he would zone out and concentrate on replaying voices in his mind. The sound of his loved ones gave him a sense of peace and calm, and he latched on with all his might. Every time it got to be too much, their voices would help.

But after such a long time of only hearing these voices around him, his family had disappeared. He dug desperately into his memories, trying as hard as he could to recall even the smallest intonation….but he found that they were gone. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember any of them.

At times, he could get their faces to flash in his mind. He saw each of his children in various stages of growing and was relieved that they always seemed happy. He saw his best friend sitting across their desk and could recall even the slightest dimple in her face, even when she wasn't looking at him. He saw his boss standing in front of his office and looked for his kind eyes that always belied his tough act when he was trying to get them to work.

It would only be a matter of time before these were gone too. As each day passed, the struggle became more increasing to conjure them and he knew that they would soon evaporate as well. Everything that made up his life before had slipped away.

His memories now consisted of the sun rising in the morning and setting in the evening. The tide coming to just past his neck before the moon came out. The fear that assaulted him each time he heard footsteps thumping through the wet ground. The burning in his lower body that left him in too much pain to even lie motionless. The sobs that sang him to sleep every night.

He found himself sometimes saying his own name out loud. It had been so long since someone had said it that he feared he wouldn't even recognize it if he heard it.

He had to hold on to his own identity for as long as he could. Once that was gone…there would be no reason to keep going anymore.

They had taken everything else. His control, his dignity, and his confidence…all of it was nonexistent now.

He didn't fall asleep anymore; his body fought to shut down while his reflexes had to remain sharp. Nourishment was bitter lake water and wet sand, and it hurt so much to urinate that he sometimes passed out. The only human interaction he had came when he was pleading with them to stop.

He didn't pray anymore. At first, he prayed every spare second with every fiber of strength in his being. But after so long, he had finally given up. All those years of worshipping and trying to do the right thing...only to realize that all he had done was give himself vain security. Hell was a cruel joke…nothing could be worse than this. Heaven was an even crueler one.

His entire life had been built on strength. He had prided himself on his ability to subdue criminals, the way he had his glare down to science, and the muscles he worked so hard to maintain.

Now he couldn't even relax. Every twig snap terrified him to the point of sobs; every stillness in the air had him trembling. He was at their complete mercy, and they knew it. They thrived on it. His begging made them laugh; his tears made them hysterical.

He dropped his head sideways onto the wet sand. The ropes were positioned just right so that he wasn't able to lower his face into the water. Each time he passed out, their touch would jolt him back awake.

No matter how hard he tried, there was no respite. They had him so helpless that he couldn't even fucking kill himself.

Two months earlier

A ringing phone greeted Captain Don Cragen when he unlocked the door to his office at the beginning of the week. Turning on the light, he dropped his keys on the desk as he reached for the telephone.

"Cragen," he answered.

"Captain," a male voice said. "This is Police Commissioner Geist."

He instantly stood straighter, involuntarily squeezing the phone cord in his hand. "Good morning, Commissioner," he said. "What can I do for you?"

"I received a call this morning from the head of the New York Police Department," he began. His voice had an edge to it and it made Don nervous. "He chewed me out for ten minutes wanting to know why this new case made headline news before he was even made aware of its existence." He sounded pissed now. "Can you tell me why you felt the need to not inform me about it?"

Cragen was so confused at his words that he couldn't speak for a moment. "What new case, sir?" he asked finally. "We wrapped a case yesterday, and to my knowledge everything was written up and sent to you via email late last night."

"Have you checked for faxes yet this morning, Cragen?" he said quickly, sounding edgy.

"No, sir," he answered, looking over at the machine. "If you will give me a moment, I can-"

"I'll be coming by later this morning," the commissioner interrupted. "Have your squad prepared to go over this case by the time I arrive….is that too much to ask, Captain?"

He swallowed hard. "No, sir," he answered. "Not at all, Commissioner."

"Good," he said curtly, and left Don with a dial tone in his ear.

He hung up the phone and turned to the fax machine, switching it on.

What the fuck had that been about? He could count on one hand the number of times the police commissioner had called the precinct personally. He usually went through the chief. Something big must have happened…and by the sound of his voice, Don guessed that it hadn't been good.

"Politics has nothing to do with it," Elliot said with a scoff of disbelief. "The guy was lying through his teeth, John! Are you honestly going to sit here and tell me that you couldn't tell?"

"He wasn't lying," John said quickly. "How many times has the man been cut down for every word that comes out of his mouth? The Republican party has been slaughtering him!"

Detectives Elliot Stabler and John Munch were walking down the hall together toward the squad room of the 16th precinct in mid-debate. It was quarter to eight in Manhattan, and the morning was dreary and cold. Both men wore heavy coats to keep out the bitter November chill; Munch had his trademark black trench while Elliot had a fleece overcoat. The temperatures were supposed to hit the mid 40's by the day's end.

Elliot reached out and pushed open the doors while John continued to passionately spew out his political viewpoint, rolling his eyes. He had watched a little of the election speeches the previous night, but he had never been able to stomach politics. In his opinion, it was all just an excuse for the press to blow things out of proportion. Obviously, his friend disagreed.

Detective Olivia Benson looked over from where she stood at her open locker, her face splitting into a grin. By the look on her partner's face, she could guess what John was ranting about this morning. Munch was renowned for his love to stir up controversy; the man would argue that the sun was made of cheese if he thought he could get an audience.

"Oh, Lord." Munch's partner, Fin Tutuola, looked up from his papers and grimaced at her. "He's at it again."

Elliot rolled his eyes at Fin as he went to his desk, shrugging off his coat. "Hey, John," he said, trying to interrupt the man's tirade. "Give it a rest, huh? I'm not the only Republican in the precinct…go give someone else a headache for a while."

Olivia snickered. Elliot laughed, looking over at John before turning back toward his partner.

Fin glared at his partner, seeing the look on his face. "Don't even think about it," he warned with a raised eyebrow. That made the other two laugh harder.

"Fine," he pouted, unbuttoning his coat. "That's fine…make fun all you want." He looked around at his colleagues. "Don't come crying to me when we all become forced into Communism during the next eight years."

"It's not even eight o'clock yet, John." They all looked over when the captain came out of his office. "Don't you keep a time card or something?"

Munch shot him a sour look as he began writing his morning reports. Elliot got up to hang his coat, grabbing his and Olivia's coffee mugs as he passed.

"Alright, alright," Cragen said, getting serious again. "Listen up, everyone. We've got a new case."

Olivia looked up curiously at his words, smiling her thanks when Elliot set a full mug of coffee and three sugar packets beside her hand.

Munch smirked at his partner before turning his chair around. Fin rolled his eyes and turned his attention to the captain as well.

Cragen had four sheets of paper in his hand, and he passed them to each detective as he spoke. "I received a call this morning from Commissioner Geist informing me of a rape that occurred sometime late last night or early this morning."

Olivia gulped her coffee, feeling sick to her stomach. She met gazes with Elliot and saw shock on his ashen face.

Munch grimaced and put the paper down on his desk, but was unable to look away. Fin closed his eyes briefly in shame and anger.

The fax copies displayed the photo of a murdered woman. Her legs were spread in a grotesquely obvious way that told that she had been raped, her skirt lying in shreds a few feet away from her. Blood trailed down the pavement where she laid face-down, leading to her vaginal area. Her shirt had been lifted to expose a bloody number "1" carved deep into the skin.

They all fell silent, the jovial atmosphere gone instantly. Cragen looked at them somberly before tacking another copy up onto the chalkboard.

"Dispatch wasn't made aware of it until several hours later, which is why we didn't get any calls last night," he continued, turning back to them.

Elliot forced himself to ignore the carnage and studied the paper carefully. Something caught his eyes and he squinted, leaning close to get a better look.

"You guys," he said. "Look at that."

The three looked over at him, puzzled. With furrowed brows, he stood up and walked over to the chalkboard, lifting his finger to the paper. He traced down to the bottom left hand corner.

"There are initials there," he said. He squinted, but couldn't make them out. "Can anyone make out what they are?"

"KP," John said after a minute, holding his copy close to his face. "It looks kind of like…" He furrowed his brows and squinted at the picture again. His face was troubled when he looked back up. "It looks like the kind that stores put on one-hour developments."

"It is," Cragen said, once he saw where they were heading. Four pairs of eyes looked at him in disbelief, and he quickly continued. "Guys…that's the reason I got the call. This was developed at a convenience store on 123rd street."

"Wait, wait…" Olivia looked up from studying her copy with alarm on her face and walked up to stand beside her partner. "What is that?" She pointed to the top of the photo, where several letters appeared to be cut off, but it was obvious what they were. "Is that a headline?"

At the captain's silence, looks of horror came over their faces.

"You've got to be kidding," Fin murmured, disgusted. "Someone put this in the paper?"

"Not the paper," Cragen said grimly. "The tabloids." He shook his head. "The store had just opened, and it seems that one of the early customers for one-hour developing was a reporter for the New York Ledger." He looked at them knowingly. "I'm sure you can guess how they wound up in there."

Elliot scoffed angrily. "The technician leaves the developed photos on the machine since there's not that many people in the store and goes back to develop the guy's pictures," he surmised. "The damn barracuda saw them and figures he's made himself a new headline."

Olivia shook her head in disgust. "What a slimeball," she said softly.

Cragen stepped in before any more personal feelings could be voiced. "Geist is planning on stopping by sometime in the next four hours," he said, looking at them pointedly. "He managed to stop the press from printing copies of The Ledger by telling the department chief we had an official case started and they were interfering with a police investigation."

He raised his eyebrows. "That means if we don't have something for him, he'll be lying to the head of the department," he said. "If he gets chewed out, every single one of us will be brought before the review board for insubordination." He gave them all pointed stares. "We need to find out who this woman is before he steps foot into this room."

Fin's eyebrows jumped as he exchanged glances with his partner.

"So," he continued after a minute. "Benson, Stabler…pay a visit to the medical examiner and ask her to give you a list of all Jane Does brought in between yesterday and today." They nodded quickly and he turned to the others.

"Munch, Fin…go down to the convenience store where the photos were developed and talk to the development staff. Have them pull up names and addresses of all film drop-offs from last night…maybe we'll get lucky and find out who took these pictures."

Chairs scuffled as the detectives got up quickly. The captain went into his office.

Elliot shook his head and let out a breath. Having been the only member of the unit to already have experienced a trip before the review board, he knew personally that it wasn't something to look forward to. Cops could only get by with so much…if he got called before them again, he didn't doubt the possibility of a suspension this time.

"We'll call you if we get anything," Munch said to Elliot as they passed. He nodded gravely.

Olivia grabbed his jacket as she was putting on her own and handed it to him. "So…how's your morning been so far?" she asked wryly.

He rolled his eyes and sighed as they headed out.