Author's Note: This story takes place during the 2009-2010 television season...so that's Season 7 of NCIS (after Somalia) and Season 11 of SVU.

Disclaimer: I do not own either NCIS or SVU.

WARNING: The M rating is for this chapter and some later ones. This story contains a description of physical violence, sexual assault, and lesbian sex. Do not continue if any of this will offend you.

Teaser

A woman in her twenties sobs crouched in the fetal position in the corner of a dark, damp room saturated with the scent of blood, sweat, and other bodily fluids. She gently rocks back and forth and mumbles indecipherable syllables. Her right eye is black and blue, but is in the yellowish stage of healing. Her once blond hair is matted and stained with blood. Her clothes are soiled, bloody, and torn. Her eyes suddenly widen as she hears footsteps approaching. She stiffens and backs further into the corner, continuing to press her back against the wall as if sheer willpower were enough to break the bonds of physics. The footsteps get louder and pause when a familiar metal clang is heard as the door locks are forcefully opened. She cringes at the sound that reverberates throughout the room, knowing that nothing good ever comes from visits.

The door opens and a man slowly walks in, locking the padlock on the bar across the door behind him and placing the key in his pants pocket. He is 6'2" and muscular. Several tattoos are visible on his arms through his t-shirt, including the emblem of the eagle, globe, and anchor worn by Marines.

"Get up," he demands.

She remains frozen.

"Get up!" He yells as he grabs a hold of her upper arm and flings her up as if she were a rag doll. Her legs go weak and she begins to succumb to the frailty of her own body. Recognizing this, he picks her up and slams her, face down, across a nearby table.

She lets out a quiet whimper. She knows what is going to happen, but also knows that there is nothing that can be done to stop it.

He pulls down her already ripped and soiled pants and slaps her exposed, blood- and dirt-stained bottom. He removes his belt and whips it against her flesh. After several lashes, he unbuttons his pants and releases his engorged self and pounds it into her as hard as he can. As he thrusts with all his weight, she lays there, a sole tear falling onto the wooden tabletop.

At this point, she can no longer recall how many times she's been in this position, or other similar ones, at the hand of his man. She had given up resisting and fighting long ago as it only angered him and resulted in more torture. She has already decided that she is prepared to die, that no one deserves to live like this. As she dreams about death, she notices something different...his combat knife that he used so many times on her and usually carried on his belt was there on the table. He must have gotten complacent and put it there before the lashings.

He eventually finishes inside her and flips her over. She can see that his mouth is moving, but none of his words actually reach her ears.

She contemplates grabbing the knife, but knows that the odds are in his favor. After some thought, she realizes that she has nothing to lose...either she'll kill him or he will kill her, but the pain and the suffering will end.

With a surprising burst of energy and in one swift movement, she grabs the knife and slashes it across his stomach. This stuns him long enough for her to get in a thrust to his neck.

He throws her to the ground and the knife flies from her hand. He falls to his knees, his hands wrapped around the open wound on his neck. Blood pulses out between his fingers with every heartbeat. He stumbles towards her, but succumbs to his injury and falls face down on the floor.

The woman grabs the knife, rushes over to him and stabs him repeatedly in the back, screaming and sobbing, as all of her raw emotions run free. When her arms are too tired to continue, she throws the knife into the corner. She fishes through the pockets of the pants draped around his ankles and removes a key. She struggles to make it to the door and removes the padlock, but pauses when she goes to open the door.

After what feels like an eternity trapped at the whim of a madman, she's at a loss as to what to do next. Feeling lost and exhausted, she backs up against the wall and slides down to the floor.

After an unknown amount of time, she jerks awake as the door files open and several figures rush in. A female rushes to her and crouches at her side. She is wearing a Kevlar vest with "POLICE" boldly across the front. Detective Olivia Benson speaks to her, but the words go unrecognized as the beaten and battered woman falls unconscious.

"Call a bus!" the attractive policewoman yells.

"And the M.E.," mumbles her partner, Detective Elliot Stabler, standing over the dead body.

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