Title: Timing in Life is Everything, Chapter 1

Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: Homicide: Life on the Street & L&O: SVU; Munch/OFC

Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf or the creators of H:LOTS. Sadly, I don't own them and I won't make a dime off of taking them out to play
Summary: Destiny has its own agenda… its own time. Begins during H:LOTS and continues into L a Munch-centric romance that explains his transition from Baltimore frump to NYC cool.

Timing in Life is Everything, Ch.1

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The Crab House Restaurant, Baltimore, June 19, 1993

She was the kind of woman men noticed… tall, leggy, and blond. She had the classic All-American good looks, the stuff of many an adolescent boy's wet dreams. The bright blue tank top and faded jeans she was wearing were just tight enough to showcase a body that he could easily imagine in a cheerleading uniform or propped seductively in a dorm room bed in Playboy's "Girls of the ACC (or SEC or Big-12 or…)" issue, equal parts youthful innocence and raw sexuality.

She was standing less than ten feet away, chatting animatedly with three other young women. They were waiting for a table in the seafood restaurant he and his partners from the Baltimore Homicide Division frequented on their lunch hour. He was close enough to overhear snatches of their conversation… enough to know they were on their way to New York City. They had apparently just graduated from college and were making the big move to the Big Apple to start new jobs… look for work… become stars of stage and screen. Their youthful enthusiasm was infectious, even to one as cynical as he.

As if she felt his eyes on her, the young woman he was admiring sifted to her left and turned her head to meet his gaze. The impact was like a sledgehammer's blow to his gut. The fact she didn't smirk or turn away in uneasy amusement… a cutting comment made to her companions, didn't register until much later. The fact that the memory of her face lingered on the edge of his thoughts long after they had gone their separate ways insured he had plenty of time to consider the unlikely reactions on both their parts… especially the way she seemed to respond to him on the same visceral level he was feeling. In the years to come, her image often found its way into his fantasies… the erotic promise of her gaze calling out to him in seldom remembered dreams.

A waitress appeared in their midst, her tired request for their smoking preference making her sound old and warn next to their fresh vitality. The intrusion was enough to break the moment… the amused grins of her companions making the object of his interest blush with embarrassment at having been caught staring. Confused green eyes flickered back in his direction to see if he was still watching, a nervous smile lighting her face.

Beau Felton's voice broke into his silent appreciation of the lovely quartet. "Felecia must have cut you off again, Munchkin. You're drooling."

Throwing the other detective a condescending sneer, John retorted, "I'm getting plenty, but if you want to discuss our sex lives, you can regale us with the details of latest bimbo you're banging behind your wife's back."

"Damn, Munch," Stanley Bolander interjected, "those girls are just kids! You're too damned old to be ogling them!"

"Freshly minted college grads, Big Man, so they're legal eye-candy," his much younger partner corrected, "And there's no law against looking. If you're too old to appreciate the sight of nubile young flesh, we need to put you out to pasture… or get you some glasses because that blond is the best looking thing to walk into this dump in years… except for our esteemed colleague of course. Kay's in a class by herself."

"Nice save, Johnny boy," Kay Howard countered. "Next time, try wiping your mouth before you bring my name into the conversation. It bothers me to have you say it with drool dripping off your chin."

"Gets you hot and bothered you mean," he corrected before turning back to watch the four young women walking away to a table near the front of the restaurant. He made no effort to hide his appreciation of the sway of a nicely rounded behind encased in snug denim. Kay's "men are all pigs" retort failed to elicit a response… mainly since he hadn't really heard it.

The blond… /Grace/ he corrected, having overheard one of the girls call her by name, carefully kept her eyes averted, trained on the menu the waitress had thrust into her hands. Having studied the restaurant's selection enough times to know it didn't require that level of focus, he felt a small smile tug at his lips. Grace knew he was still watching and wasn't sure what to make of the tangible chemistry that had sprung to life between them from a mire glance.

Frankly, neither did he. He had a steady girlfriend… one he had no intention of making wife #3. Felecia was convenient… but then she probably felt the same way about him. No, his sex life was adequate if not the stuff of fantasy… nothing too exciting or daring, but available with enough frequency to make it worth hanging onto until something better came along. Instinct warned him that Felecia was close to running out of patience with their arrangement, but John didn't feel sufficiently motivated to make the changes she was demanding to keep their less than stellar status quo going.

Maybe that was why this woman-child fascinated him, he speculated; he knew he would be sleeping alone again in the not too distant future. The ever overly-analytical part of his brain churned this possibility around for a few seconds. It made sense… he was looking for his next 'ex' even as the body of his current 'ex' still filled its required place in his bed most nights. John grin turned predatory as he silently agreed with Kay's assessment… men were pigs.

Hesitant green eyes lifted to meet his. Seeing the uncertainty and confusion he was causing, he felt his smile transform from predatory to reassuring. Something about this woman inspired him to… well, he wasn't sure what she inspired other than pure, raw desire, but he suspected it was more than that. That thought was a bit startling… even a little unsettling.

/Too bad she's just passing through on her way to New York. If she was a local…/

"Yeah, she is hot."

Startled by the unwanted intrusion of Tim Bayliss' voice, he glanced over at the younger man. By any standard, Bayliss was a far better looking man than he was. He was tall, muscular without it being overdone… sweet boy-next-door looks… a gentle manner that played well to most 20-somethings. His fellow detective was studying Grace with the same intensity as he had been.

Looking back in her direction, he was pleased to note that she seemed to be oblivious to Tim's charms. She was still pretending to follow the conversation flowing around her, but he didn't miss the frequent glances coming his way. She had noticed him and was as intrigued as he was.

/Yeah… too bad…/

--

"You've got an admirer, Gracie. He's practically drooling."

Smiling at her friend, Grace refused to give her the satisfaction of looking. "How do you know he's checking me out? He could be scoping out one of you guys."

Debbie Griffin traded a long-suffering look with the other two women in their group. The four had been friends since meeting as freshmen at the Savannah College of Art and Design. It never ceased to amaze them that Grace failed to realize just how stunning she was. She seemed genuinely clueless that she was truly beautiful while they were more likely to be described as pretty or cute. The fact that Grace didn't have a malicious bone in her body and was one of the most loving, giving people they knew only made her more attractive. It also meant she was far too trusting and forgiving than they thought was prudent for a young woman embarking on a new life in the big city.

"Well… the fact he hasn't taken his eyes off of you for the last several minutes was the first clue, Miss Innocent. I think he's a cop," Debbie speculated, pitching her voice so it wouldn't travel to the nearby table.

"Yeah, that guy sitting on the other end of the table is wearing a badge on his belt," Kim Ogola observed, raking Meldrick Lewis' body with her eyes. "He's pretty hot."

"I'll say… but I think the one in the middle is the real hottie," her twin countered, settling on Bayliss. "He had bedroom eyes."

Grinning, Grace whispered, "So… is the guy watching me a hottie or what?"

Carrie Ogola tilted her head in an apparent sign of serious concentration. "Well… I'd say… or what."

"What?"

"Or what," her friend corrected, grinning wickedly. "Not my type, but I think he's yours. You go for the tall, skinny, brooding type… all that repressed passion. You know… the bookish intellectual. Give me a guy with a solid 6-pack and a killer smile who likes to party. Who needs the drama!"

"Yeah, like Steve wasn't all about the drama," Grace retorted, taking a step to her left so she could glance his way without being too obvious she was looking. Ignoring the smirks on her friends' faces, she did her best to appear 'breezy-casual' as she turned her head to the right and… fell into the thrall of a pair of hungry brown eyes.

Grace and her traveling companions had decided to break their trip by having lunch at a seafood place a friend from school had insisted they check-out when they passed through Baltimore on their way to New York. She had accepted an entry level assistant's position with an up-and-coming design house owned by a husband and wife design team, fellow graduates from SCAD. The move… her new job… finding a place for the four of them to rent… her future, those thoughts had occupied her attention for the last six weeks.

The demands of mundane things like food, sleep… packing, had been undertaken with an enthusiastic if somewhat distracted attitude. Romance… or simply flirting with an attractive man hadn't made the cut. She had lost count of the number of times she had ignored the other girls attempts to 'fix her up', claiming it made no sense to start something and then move ten hours away.

The thought of a man, one sitting in a restaurant in Baltimore with whom she would never have a single conversation, didn't seem to warrant any attention beyond the momentary diversion. That she quickly lost track of her surroundings, captured by his gaze should have shocked her deeply. It didn't. It seemed… like destiny… fate… something beyond the ordinary business of daily life.

/It's just like Mom said… when she first saw Daddy… except… I'll never see him again./

Barely registering the teasing comments from her companions, Grace followed the waitress to a table near the front window. Taking a deep breath, she resolved to put the incident out of her mind and be sensible. /He can't be…/

Confused green eyes unwittingly gave into the pull of the brown ones still watching her from across the restaurant. She noted the way his smile seemed to gentle and his gaze became more… caressing than devouring. She knew… though how she knew she couldn't say, that he felt the same inexplicable pull toward her that she felt toward him. It left her feeling sad and incomplete… and yet…

--

Miami International Airport, Miami, December 10, 1995

John followed the signs toward the cluster of car rental agencies serving the Miami International Airport. He had been sent by his CO to locate and escort a material witness back to Baltimore for a trial set to begin the following week. State's Attorney Ed Danvers had been worried the man wouldn't show up and Munch had been dispatched to make sure that didn't happen.

After standing in line for half-an-hour, a harried clerk had waved him toward a small queue of people waiting for a shuttle to take them to the parking lot used by the budget rental agency Baltimore City used for all out of town rentals. /Damn… I hope it has air/ he muttered to himself as he read through the papers he had been handed by the agent.

Sighing, John eased the knot of the tie he was wearing and slipped open the top few buttons of his shirt. He had already shed his jacket, the 86 degree weather of south Florida in early December a vivid contrast to the dreary chill of the 44 degree rain he had left behind in Charm City. He was already looking forward to a shower to wash away the film of sweat he could feel trickling down his back.

Sighing again, he acknowledged that would have to wait until after he had made a courtesy call to his counterparts in Miami-Dade to give them a copy of the material witness warrant Danvers had supplied. Giaridello had made it clear he was to alert the locals he was on their turf before attempting to locate his prey… one Bruce Gersten. If he was lucky… and a lifetime's worth of experience warned him not to expect much, he would find Gerten exactly where he was supposed to be and hand him off the locals to hold until his return flight in two days. That would give him a chance to lounge around his motel's pool… get a little sand in his flip-flops, and loose a couple of hundred bucks betting the dogs at the track.

/Yeah, right… that's going to happen/ he silently scoffed. /I hope this hump doesn't turn out to be a real pain in the ass to find… but at least, I'm out of Balto for the next couple of days./

This type of assignment wasn't John's idea of a mini-vacation; it was work, nothing more. He had volunteered in a fit of desperation. His soon to be third ex-wife had been making his life a living hell with incessant phone calls and demands through her lawyer for the rest of his personal property in the settlement. Why he had married her still eluded him… he had known they were mismatched and unsuited for each other from the beginning.

/Shit, the sex wasn't even any good/ he mentally complained. /And Sally's even whinier than Gwen or Nancy ever thought about being. If she has her way, I'll be lucky to still have a pair of boxers left to my name… and I don't own any boxers!!/

The sound of an imperious male voice issuing a rapid-fire string of commands drew his focus away from a scuff mark on the toe of one of his black shoes. A small crowd of people appeared from the midst of the larger throng milling around the waiting area serving that end of the terminal. This group was obviously not using budget cars to get around. They were headed toward the VIP entrance and the large stretch limo waiting just outside the door.

The group was lead by an immaculately dressed man in his mid to late thirties. He reminded John of one of those airbrushed male models in GQ… square-cut jaw, wavy black hair, and features almost too pretty to suit a man. A small gaggle of young men and woman trailed in his wake… talking on mobile phones, scribbling furiously on notepads, or hanging onto his every word as though they expected him to impart the secrets of life… in between orders to confirm dinner reservations and call someone named Jacque.

A woman, more flamboyant than pretty, drifted along at his right side. She was tall and slim… actually, she was just plain skinny. Her features were too sharp, her carriage too stiff, for her to command much attention without the use of flashy clothes to draw the eye. Faint lines were already etched around her mouth and between her eyes as if she spent a lot of time frowning… her unhappiness only partially hidden by an air of forced, world-weary distain. It made her look far older than the man onto whose arm she was desperately clinging.

The distraction of the bright tropical hues of her flowing dress were no match, however, for the beauty of the woman on her other side. John felt his heart skip a beat. It was her… the woman he had seen two years earlier at a seafood restaurant in Baltimore… Grace. Those two years had erased the last of the teen from her face and form. The woman across the lobby from him was just that… all woman.

The simple, but elegant cut of her light-weight wool slacks and silk blouse hinted that her body was more streamline, the lush curves he remembered so vividly blunted by the harsh dictates of New York's demanding world of fashion. John was mildly disappointed by that fact, but the sight of her face more than compensated him for the loss of the fantasy image he had created… her in a University of Maryland cheerleader's uniform. Her features were as breathtaking as he remembered. Pale blond hair framed her delicate face in a shining fall. The florescent lights of the terminal made the flowing mane glow like strands of spun gold… or so it seemed to his hungry gaze.

Once again, the unspoken demand in his eyes seemed to call to her. Pausing just inside the automatic doors, she looked in his direction. He had no trouble pinpointing the exact moment she saw him… or in knowing she remembered their brief, almost encounter as keenly as he did. Their gaze held for several long seconds before the man leading the small army reached out to grasp her arm and pull her toward the waiting car.

Even at a distance, he did not miss the irritation in Grace's green eyes… or the simmering fury in the eyes of the other woman. Taking a deep breath, Grace subtly pulled away and moved to stand on the other side of her fuming employer. The other members of the traveling circus exchanged gleeful grins, certain the darling of the design duo was about to make an abrupt exit from their company… at least if the wife had any say in the matter.

Grace paused once again at the door of the limo to look back at him. John had not realized he had moved in her direction… was in fact standing just outside the sliding-glass doors of the terminal. A faint smile lit her face as she started to speak… stopped by a hand grasping her arm from inside the lux car and pulling her inside.

Before he could react, the car pulled away, Grace's face barely visible through the tinted glass of the rear window. She had turned in the seat to watch him… their eyes remained locked until the limo accelerated and disappeared into the swarm of taxis clogging the pick-up area outside the terminal. John stood for several minutes staring in the direction into which the car had disappeared.

Suddenly realizing he was drawing the interested looks of a number of people, he slowly turned and rejoined the queue… a different one since his earlier companions had already left on the last shuttle. John was oblivious to it all… he was still lost in the staggering realization that she remembered him as clearly as he remembered her. Fate seemed to enjoy torturing him with dreams dangled just beyond his reach.

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7/20/08