Munch Finds Happiness

by Kansasismyhome

Title says it all. MunchOC to start but eventually MunchCasey. I own nothing. In fact, I own so nothing that...SOMEBODY OWES ME!Dedicated to padmepotter and tangsoo25.

Munch finds Happiness

Chapter 1

John Munch sat at the small table. He was wearing a gorgeously tailored suit, a soft silk shirt, and a simple paisley tie. All European and carefully tailored. His hair was neatly and freshly barbered and he wore exotic but subtle cologne. John's gaze carried his mind and heart out the window and over the Manhattan skyline. His thoughts were carried along, too, and he mused over everything that had brought him to this point in his life. His thoughts drifted back almost exactly one year….

Chapter 2

One year ago…

John Munch stood in front of his building's elevator. The morning paper was folded under his arm and he looked gloomily around himself. The elevator doors opened and he stepped on. As the doors were starting to close a voice called, "Can you hold the elevator for me, please?"

John put out his hand and caught the doors, forcing them back open. Footsteps pounded down the hall and a woman hurried in to view. She was panting slightly and looked flushed. She spoke cheerfully, "Thanks!"

John looked at her for a moment then said, "No problem," in a morose tone of voice.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when her cell phone rang. She answered the phone with a cheery, "Hi, Mom." Her side of the conversation consisted of a lot of "Un-huh's." She hung up soon with a shrug and said, "Senior dementia is such fun!"

John nodded politely, not really sure what to say.

In the next few weeks John meet up with this younger woman several times. They always seemed to leave the building at about the same time each morning. John noticed that she usually wore a warm-up suit or jeans and comfortable shoes. She didn't wear a lot of make-up and had a casual hairstyle. But she was pretty in a fresh, at-ease-with-herself kind of way.

One morning about two weeks later John met up with her outside of their building. She was putting her cell away, looking harassed. It was early and John was not particularly pressed for time. He stopped and, on a whim, asked her to go for coffee at Starbuck's. She seemed surprised but agreed to go readily enough.

Once in the coffee shop John asked the questions that had been bugging him for several days, "What is your name?"

She laughed. "Carrie Davenport. What's your name?"

"John Munch and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." he said briskly.

Conversation flowed easily between them as they covered all of the usual stuff strangers discuss when first meeting. Carrie was from the Midwest, lived with her mother, and was a writer.

"That's interesting," John said. "What do you write?"

Carrie blushed slightly. "I write romance novels. You know, the bodice-rippers that are sold in every grocery store in the country. In the trades they're called "Romantic Historical Fiction," but most writers call them bodice-rippers. Flashing eyed men with muscular bodies and gorgeous raven-haired woman who want the flashing eyed men to fondle them even as they say no."

John found himself chuckling over the satirical way she described her line of work.

"How did you find yourself in this line of work?"

"When Mom first became sick with dementia I needed something to do that not only occupied my mind, but made money, too. A friend worked for Hallmark in Kansas and it's a parent company for Evanwood Publishing. With a little help I got started writing one of their very formulaic novels (read Harlequin Romances) and then when I proved that I had a little imagination I was moved up to having my own line." Carrie explained.

John glanced at his watch. 8:30 and definitely time to go. "Carrie, I've got to get to work, but I'd like to visit with you again."

Carrie smiled eagerly and said, "I'd like that too, John. Maybe tomorrow…"

Chapter 3

It became a regular habit. Every morning John and Carrie met at Starbuck's. They exchanged life stories (in an abbreviated form) and discussed what was currently going on in their lives. John told her about some of his cases in the SVU (carefully editing names and dates and places) while Carrie told him of her mother's condition, her writing, and her own coping skills.

"How do you manage to look after your mother?" John asked.

"Every morning, seven days a week, a home health nurse comes to our apartment. She helps mom shower, dress, and take her meds. Then they watch TV or play Scrabble until I come home. I go out every morning from 8 to 12. When I get home I fix lunch for Mom and then she takes an afternoon nap. While she naps I log onto the computer and compose for a couple of hours. When Mom wakes up late in the afternoon we go for a walk, if she feels like it, and then have an early supper. We watch Wheel of Fortune and then maybe a movie. Mom is usually ready for bed at 9pm and then I have another hour or so to compose. By 10:30pm I'm usually in bed, too. Sounds like a pretty boring existence, doesn't it?" Carrie asked. She spoke without a trace of self-pity or anger.

John looked at her for a moment. He thought it sounded like a dreadful existence, cooped up in an apartment with a mentally ill woman. What he actually said was, "It sounds like a busy life for you. Do your novels sell well?"

Carrie laughed. "I write under three pseudonyms. Each woman whose name I write under has a distinct following of women who like my work. One nom de plume that I use writes during the Middle Ages – you know – the whole knights in shining armor thing. Another way I write is during the antebellum era. That whole hoop skirt jazz. And then there is quite a following of little old ladies who like my World War II series. You know, 'Rosie the Riveter Gets Screwed.'"

John, who had an acerbic wit too, found her delightful to talk to.

"John," Carrie said suddenly, "Why don't you come up to our apartment this evening. We don't have much company. I don't know how Mom will react, but why don't you drop by this evening after work? Mom and I live in apartment 4B."

John promised to try.

Chapter 4

A new habit developed. Every evening John left the precinct house and stopped to pick up supper. He then went to his apartment, showered and dressed in clean clothes.

By seven in the evening he would be knocking on Carrie's door. She always welcomed him eagerly. Her mother was friendly, sometimes, and at other times was hostile. She had no idea who John was. Some evenings they played Scrabble with Martha (the mother) making nonsense words while Carrie and John played seriously. Both had good vocabularies and enjoyed the friendly competition. By 9pm Martha was tired and getting cranky (crankier?) and John excused himself so Carrie could help her mother go to bed.

It gave John a sense of belonging that he had not had in a long time.

On the evenings that Martha didn't want to play Scrabble they watched movies. John owned some movies and Carrie owned some and Netflix owned lots of movies. They kept a queue going so that there was always a new movie waiting. Carrie liked romances but would watch almost anything. John liked action movies but would also watch most movies. Martha liked any movie they watched but often had obscene comments on whatever was happening on the screen. Carrie was sometimes embarrassed by the things her mother said but John found most of Martha's comments hysterical.

Strangely, neither John nor Carrie found any lack of their dating in their relationship. It was almost like being an "old married couple" right from the start. They enjoyed each other's company so much that leaving the apartment was unnecessary. Movies, Scrabble and conversation were enough for them. Carrie began keeping some extra popcorn and beer around the apartment as this was John's favorite movie snack.

After a few weeks of this John invited Carrie out to a retirement dinner that he was to attend. The Chief of Detectives was retiring after 25 years on the job and almost everyone in the detective units in New York City was invited to attend. John knew that Carrie never left the apartment much after lunch but he invited her anyway. Carrie seemed flattered and a little unsettled.

"Carrie, are you uncomfortable about this invitation?" John asked.

"No, not about the invitation. I'd love to go, but I need to find someone to stay with Mom," she answered truthfully.

"Do you have any idea who could stay with your Mom? What about the nurse that comes in in the morning?" John suggested.

"I'll have to ask her tomorrow and then I'll get back with you, OK?" Carrie said.

"Sure," John said. "I hope it works out for us."

That night as John was thinking he came to a realization. He really wanted Carrie to find someone to care for her mother. The thought of attending the retirement dinner alone suddenly seemed unbearably lonely.

Chapter 5

"John, how do I dress for the retirement dinner?" asked Carrie, worriedly.

The nurse that usually watched Martha in the morning was willing to come in the evening. For three times the usual rate and the next morning off, with pay. Carrie realized extortion when she saw it, but what choice was there?

"Business casual or semi-formal," John answered.

Carrie smiled. "You know, in the Midwest that means Levis' that have been professionally starched. I suppose in New York that means something else."

John, who found her sense of humor quite attractive, nodded. "In this case it means just dressing up a little. You don't have to have a formal or anything that dressy, just a nice skirt or dress or pantsuit."

"Those I have," Carrie answered, sounding relieved.

The night of the dinner arrived. John said that he would arrive at 6:30pm to pick Carrie up. The nurse arrived at 6:15 and Carrie gave her instructions, her cell number, and a promise to return at 10:00pm. All was in readiness. Promptly at 6:30 John knocked on the door. Carrie answered, all smiles. John smiled, too, as Carrie was wearing your basic little-black-dress. It set her skin off and made her glow. After a quick good-bye to Martha the couple left.

John drove his car to the event at a downtown hotel, The Plaza. Carrie had never been there before and couldn't get over how pretty the building looked. John left his car with valet parking and they went inside.

It was a terrific evening for Carrie. She met many of the people John worked with. The dinner seating included Elliot Stabler, Olivia Benson, Casey Novak, George Huang, and Odafin Tutuola. John made introductions all around. Carrie visited politely with each person as she was introduced to them. The group seemed a little stiff as they had not expected John to bring a date. His co-workers were not displeased that John had brought Carrie, just surprised. Carrie listened to their conversations but contributed little as most of it was shop talk. It didn't seem to bother her at all. After the dinner came speeches, awards, and then coffee and dessert. When the speech part was over people got up and began moving around, networking with co-workers that they saw only rarely. The conversations flowed more freely and Casey Novak came over to talk to Carrie.

"Carrie, I hope we haven't bored you to death. When cops get together they talk shop." Casey said.

Carrie shrugged. "It's fine, Casey. John has told me so much about all of you that it's nice to put faces with the names."

"That's funny because John hasn't mentioned you at all. That's just John for you. It's nice to see him dating someone," Casey replied. She had thought that John was dating someone much younger than himself, but on closer inspection she determined Carrie to be in her mid-thirties.

Carrie glanced at her watch and gasped. "Goodness, it's nine-thirty. I've got to go." She excused herself and found John. "John, it's nine-thirty and I really have to leave. I can take a taxi if you want to stay here."

John blinked in surprise. He hadn't realized the time, either. "No, we can leave. I go to these things all the time."

Carrie looked at Casey and joked, "I turn back into a pumpkin at 10:00, so we better go."

After John and Carrie left Casey asked herself, "You don't suppose that John is dating a woman with kids, do you?"

She could only shake her head in bewilderment.

Chapter 6

On the trip back to the apartment Carrie spoke, "John, you know I wouldn't have minded taking a cab back home."

"I know you wouldn't have minded, Carrie, but it was your company I was enjoying, not the retirement dinner."

"That's very nice of you to say," Carrie replied, feeling strangely happy at John's response.

At the apartment Carrie found her mother and the nurse both sleeping peacefully. She woke the nurse and asked how the evening went. The nurse answered, "Your mom was quite pleasant this evening. She went to bed right at nine."

Carrie turned to John and asked, "Could you stay in the apartment while I take Mom's nurse to a cab?"

John said, "Sure."

In a few minutes Carrie returned to the apartment almost $200 poorer. Between cab fare and sitting fees it had been an expensive evening. John was sitting on the couch sipping a beer. She checked on her mother and then shed the heels she had worn all evening. Carrie flopped down on the couch beside John and sighed. John turned to her, "Carrie, did you have a nice time this evening?"

Carrie turned to face John and answered, "Yes, I had a terrific time. Your friends seem really nice. I can understand how much they mean to you."

John put his arm around Carrie and drew her close to his side. He had been pleased with her that evening. She had come across as pleasant and kind. Carrie had made a good impression on his friends even though John didn't particularly care what any of them thought. Carrie snuggled close to him, enjoying the closeness. John set his beer down and turned his head towards Carrie. He took hold of her chin and brought her face to his. He gently kissed her. Then, not so gently. This was the first physical contact they had experienced in the weeks they had been together. John figured if Carrie didn't want his kisses she would let him know. Carrie responded shyly but enthusiastically. After several moments of kissing they drew apart. John smiled at her blushing cheeks. "I didn't surprise you, did I?"

"Well, yes you did, but it's fine. I liked it." Carrie responded.

John replaced his arm around her and they settled back on the couch.

Chapter 7

The next day at work was incredibly busy. The SVU seemed to be like that; either busy or nothing to do but paperwork. Since Carrie did not have a nurse for her mother that morning John had stopped by their apartment and had coffee with Carrie and Martha. Carrie had even fixed French toast for him which he had not been expecting but enjoyed tremendously.

The following day started out quietly. John had arrived at 9 as was his custom. He and Carrie had been to Starbuck's that morning and when they had separated she was to go to her editor's office to sign a new contract for her latest novel, "Love's USO Show," set during World War II. John had been doing paperwork and following up on some cases when Fin said his name. "What?" John responded.

Fin sounded exasperated. "I said, what's your address?"

"128 West Broadway. Why?" John asked.

"According to the computer a 911 call just went out to your building. To the apartment of a Carrie Davenport. Isn't that your girlfriend's name?" Fin said.

John didn't respond right away because he was on his cell calling Carrie. "Carrie, what's going on?"

Carrie sounded tense and frightened. "John, I think Mom's had a stroke. I've got an ambulance on the way."

John tried to speak soothingly. "Do you want me to come over and be with you?"

"No, I'm OK for now. In fact, I hear the ambulance. Talk to you later." And with that she hung up.

After work John went straight to Carrie's apartment only to find her not home yet. He called her cell but it went straight to voice-mail. Feeling defeated he returned to his own apartment and waited for her to call back.

After 8:30 Carrie called John. She sounded tired and stressed. John left his apartment and went to Carrie's. When she opened the door she hugged him tightly. "How's your Mom?" John asked.

"Better. It was definitely a stroke, but she seems much improved now." Carrie explained to John.

It occurred to John that he had never been in Carrie's apartment alone with her before. Another thought followed on the heels of that one, and that thought was that he would like to make love with her that night. If her kisses were any indicator of her passion and enthusiasm then he couldn't wait to go to bed with her.

John put his arms around Carrie and kissed her. When he broke the kiss he leaned against her cheek and whispered, "Carrie, I'd like to make love with you, if you're not too tired and sad?"

Chapter 8

Carrie looked a little surprised. "I really like how you said that, John. In Kansas they say it a little different. It is said, and I quote, 'Nice ass, get in the truck.'"

John laughed out loud.

Carrie turned serious. "John, sit on the couch, please."

Mentally, John sighed. This didn't sound good. He sat on the couch and looked up at Carrie.

Carrie paced around the room for a minute looking a little distressed. Then she began to speak. "John, have you ever heard of a woman who blurts out her whole sexual history the first time she is with a man? She just starts telling him all the stuff she's done and all the men she's been with." Here John nodded. He had met high-maintenance women that did nonsense like that. "I don't know why a woman would do that, but maybe it's to make a man see her in an unflattering light and if he doesn't run screaming into the night he'll be good for her. Have you ever had a woman do that to you?" Carrie didn't wait for an answer but plowed right ahead. "I don't know if you've ever had that happen, but I think it's a bad idea and I certainly would never ask you how many women you've been with. That's a bad idea, too." She stopped for a breath and then continued. "John, if I was the kind of woman to pour out my sexual past, and I'm not by-the-way, I have something else to confess…I have no sexual history to pour out to you."

The enormity of what she was saying was lost on John. His facial expression must have spoken more clearly than words because Carrie blurted out, "John, I'm 35 years old and still a virgin!"

John was speechless for a moment. Carrie must have taken his silence as censure. "John, if you find me, a 35 year old virgin, repulsive and want to go home I'll take no offense. We can just go back to being friends." The tentative smile on her face made John's heart go out to her; she looked so frightened. It was time for John to find his voice.

John leaped up off the couch and caught hold of Carrie's arms. He drew her close to him and spoke firmly. "Carrie, look me in the eye."

Carrie's gaze started at his feet and worked its way up. The expression she found there was one of warmth and happiness. "I could never find you repulsive. You're sweet and kind and how you ended up still a virgin at 35, I don't know. But, that doesn't matter. What matters is what we both feel tonight. I want to make love with you, but this is your choice. I don't want you to make a choice you'll regret."

Carrie's eyes brimmed with tears and her voice caught. "John, I want to make love with you. I'm a little scared and a lot excited. And I do have a question for you. Do you have some sort of contraception? I've never needed any so I don't have any."

John said, "I have condoms in my apartment. I'll go get them. Do you have a pretty nightgown?"

The glow in Carrie's eyes was all the answer John needed.

John took the elevator to his apartment. He entered his bedroom, opened the small chest beside his bed and took out two condoms. He figured he would only need one, but what if one broke? As he was sitting on the edge of his bed he began to laugh. The irony was too much for him. John Munch, the most cynical man on the planet, found his life in the hands of a 35 year old virgin. It seemed so ironic that he just sat and laughed for a few minutes. When the laughter finally died away he was able to return to Carrie's apartment. He wouldn't have laughed in front of her for anything. He wasn't sure she would have understood or appreciated the irony of it all.

John entered Carrie's apartment. She had changed into a simple pale blue silk nightgown. She looked both beautiful and scared. John hugged her tightly and tried to reassure her that all would be fine. She seemed reassured and even a little eager.

Chapter 9

John awoke at 6am. Carrie was deeply asleep beside him. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. She stirred slightly and then returned to sleep. John looked at her for a long time. The nerves she had been experiencing last night had quickly dissipated. She had found last night painful but had worked through the pain and had seemed pleased by John. John knew that she had nothing to compare with him, but she had seemed content. Suddenly, Carrie's eyes opened. She smiled at John and reached out to him. John slipped back into bed beside her and held her close. She yawned contentedly. John wasn't sure how to begin a dialogue with her. He decided that honesty was always a good way to start. "Last night was wonderful."

"Um-hmmm," she agreed.

"Are you in a lot of pain?" John asked.

Carrie snorted. "Not a lot but I do feel a little uncomfortable."

"Sorry about that," John apologized.

"Don't apologize. I enjoyed it." Carrie responded.

"I'm sorry I didn't help you orgasm," John spoke honestly.

Carrie didn't seem concerned. "That's OK, John, it hurt enough that an orgasm was not gonna happen. Maybe next time..." And then, changing the subject, Carrie asked, "Do you have to go to work today?"

"Yes, 'fraid so," John replied. "Are you going to go see you Mom?"

"After a shower and some breakfast. Are we still good for coffee?" asked Carrie.

"It's almost seven," John said. "How about 8am at Starbuck's?" He got out of bed and began to dress.

Carrie smiled peacefully and said, "I'll see you there."

John and Carrie sat in Starbuck's sipping lattes. John leaned forward and whispered to Carrie, "I guess losing your virginity must agree with you. You look absolutely glowing this morning." He had never really noticed the dark circles that rimmed her eyes, but now that they were gone he recognized the change.

Carrie's face turned pink but she responded calmly enough. "I'll just bet a decent night's sleep is what is making me look good. When Mom's at home I'm up with her about every hour starting at midnight. In between, I cat nap, but this is the first whole night of sleep I've had in months."

John gazed at Carrie with compassion. "I had no idea it was that bad for you."

"Don't feel sorry for me. I made this choice. Actually, I made a promise to my Dad that I would look after Mom after he died. I was 20 when he died and Mom became ill with dementia almost immediately after Dad's passing." Her tone was a little sharp and just a little defensive.

The question that had been running around inside John's head was now answered. Carrie had been a virgin simply because she had not had much of an opportunity for boyfriends. Now it made a lot more sense to John. She didn't seem like the kind of woman who would make love with just anyone.

John glanced at his watch. It was almost 8:30. "Carrie, I've got to head to work, but I'll stop by this evening."

Carrie gave him a glowing smile and waved her good-bye to him.

Chapter 10

When Martha returned to the apartment 4 days later John knew this was the end. Martha, who formerly had retained some sort of sly sense of humor, was now reduced to staring silence and immobility. Carrie had to cancel the morning home health nurse because the nurse did not have the strength to life and carry Martha as was now required. When Martha had been home a week John took Carrie aside.

"Carrie, you're exhausted, you're back is killing you, and you haven't been out of this apartment in a week. You've got to face what has happened to your mother. You can't go on like this." John had Carrie turn away from him so he could rub her sore, tired back.

Carrie sighed deeply. "John, you know the promise I made. I have every intention of keeping it. I will find a way to cope." She said this even as she grimaced with pain in her back and shoulders. Lifting Martha was wearing her down in almost every way imaginable.

John didn't know what to say. Certainly he understood her promise, but she was wearing herself out. He was deeply worried about her both physically and mentally.

"Carrie, you know what you're going to have to do, don't you?" John asked.

"If you mean a nursing home, the answer is no. Under no circumstances will I put my mother in a hell-hole!" Carrie's tone left nothing to the imagination.

"Some are excellent," John countered.

"No, they're not!" Carrie retorted. Her cheeks had become pink with anger.

Not sure what else to say John added rather lamely, "Well, if I can help, just let me know." It sounded to him like the stupidest thing he had every said to anyone.

Weeks passed. Carrie and John were at an impasse. Carrie was not about to let her end of a promise down, but she and John had no time alone together. Their physical contact was reduced to nothing. John was frustrated but also torn. He wanted to be with Carrie but respected Carrie's commitment to her mother. Until a day arrived in January. John was on his computer when he recognized a 911 call to his building. It was both a squad car and an ambulance. The ambulance he could readily understand, but the squad car made no sense. He called Carrie's cell. She answered on the first ring.

"Carrie, what's going on?" John asked.

He could hear Carrie gasping on the other end. She sounded as if she was fighting panic. "John, Mom was having an amazingly good day. She was able to walk to the table, with help of course, and suddenly she picked up a knife that was on the table and stabbed me with it. Then she started screaming. It scared the downstairs neighbor so bad she called the police and they called an ambulance for me. They want to take me to the hospital to be stitched and I can't go and leave Mom alone. What am I going to do?"

John asked, "Are the uniforms still there?"

"Yeah."

"Let me talk to them," John requested firmly.

By the time John had talked to the uniformed officers and the EMT's it was all worked out. The EMT's couldn't put more than 5 stitches in on-sight. Some dumb-ass hospital rule, but they could put butterfly bandages on. Carrie certainly didn't want to press charges against her mother, so the uniforms left and let the EMTs bandage Carrie's arm.

John talked to Carrie again. "Carrie, Fin and I have to appear in court late this afternoon. I'll drop by after court and see how you're doing, OK?"

Carrie, much calmer now, replied, "That would be wonderful. Thanks for everything."

Chapter 11

John and Fin stopped by Carrie's apartment around 4:30. She greeted them at the door with a smile and a soaked bandage. The butterfly bandages had not held and she was bleeding freely. John and Fin, who had done plenty of on-the-scene type first aid, had Carrie sit at her kitchen table. Using scissors John gently cut the bandages away to get a better look at the butterflies underneath. Both realized that butterfly bandages would not hold on that large an area. Neither John nor Fin had realized that the cut was so large. John looked at Carrie and said, "You know that needs stitches, don't you?"

Carrie nodded. "John, could you stay were with Mom and I'll take a cab to Belleview and have them stitch me up?"

Fin spoke up. "That's a stupid waste of money. I can take you and bring you back here."

Carrie was touched by his offer. "I don't want to mess up your evening plans, Fin."

"Don't have any evening plans," was Fin's gruff reply.

"I can take care of your mom. Don't worry about us. You just go with Fin and get that arm taken care of before you get an infection or something. Go!" John said.

Looking relieved, Carrie and Fin headed for the door.

The trip to Belleview was fine, if you like rush hour in New York. Fin was a good driver and Carrie just hung on tight. The wait in Belleview was interminable. First a gunshot victim was brought in, and Carrie had to wait. Then a heart attack. Then a rather horrific car wreck. It was nearly 7pm when Fin pulled up in front of her apartment building. He turned to Carrie and said, "Tell Munch I'll return the department car and see him tomorrow."

Carrie got out of the car and said, "Thanks, Fin, and I'll tell him." She went into the building.

During her absence John had problems of his own. First, he couldn't remember what meds Martha was to take at supper. He looked for the meticulous notes that Carrie usually took, but couldn't find any for that day. He figured she had been too upset to write anything down. Then, the microwave that he was trying to heat the soup in wouldn't work. After locating a saucepan he was able to heat the soup. Martha didn't seem quite as lethargic as she had been but couldn't feed herself. John made quite a mess of trying to feed Martha. He was sure Carrie could have done it in a much neater manner.

At 6:30 he pushed Martha's wheelchair in front of the TV and turned on her favorite program, Wheel of Fortune. John returned to the kitchen to tidy up a bit, and then sat on the couch to lose himself in the mindless show. Martha dosed in her wheelchair. When Carrie returned at 7pm he was glad to see her.

Carrie hugged him fiercely and then went to her mother. After a moment she turned to John and spoke in a tight voice, "How long has Mom been dead?"

John gasped. He hadn't been aware of Martha's passing. "She was fine when I put her in front of wheel at 6:30, I swear."

Carrie's eyes filled with tears as she pulled out her cell. "Hello, I need an ambulance at 128 West Broadway, please."

Chapter 12

John and Carrie accompanied Martha's body to the hospital. Forms were signed, a funeral home picked, belongings given to Carrie, and then they went back to the apartment. Carrie was utterly silent on the trip both ways. On entering the apartment Carrie collapsed on the couch and put her head in her hands. John could only imagine what she was feeling. She didn't seem able to share those feelings, yet, but John didn't want to leave her alone. Was she angry with him, he wondered? Maybe conversation was the best was to go, he decided. "Carrie, do you have extended family you need me to call for you?"

Without raising her head Carrie indicated to the negative. John was now left in a quandary. If the was angry then staying was a bad idea. But if she wasn't angry then leaving was the worst idea yet. Sometimes a head-on collision is the best policy. John knelt on the floor and spoke to Carrie, "I'm so sorry about your Mom. I hadn't noticed that she was gone. There's no excuse for my not noticing." Somehow it all sounded awful.

Carrie finally raised her head. Her eyes were red, swollen and so very sad. "John, I don't hold you responsible. I just feel guilty that I don't feel more heartbroken at her passing. I actually feel kinda relieved and also sad and I don't think you are responsible at all."

John took her into his arms and rocked her tenderly. She settled into the crook of his shoulder and relaxed. John held her as she began to unwind from a long and difficult day. As much to change the subject as anything John asked, "How's your arm?"

Carrie sat up and wiped her nose and eyes. "Fine. The doctors put in something like 25 stitches and told me to come back in a week to get them out." She changed the subject again. "Do you know what I would like to do?"

John shook his head, curious

"I want to go to bed with you. I'm so tired and sad and…and…I don't know what all, but I don't want to be alone tonight. Can you please stay?" Carrie looked so vulnerable it broke John's heart.

"Of course, I'll stay," John reassured her.

Within just a few minutes they were settled into her bed. She reached for John, but he pulled away. "What's the matter?" she asked.

John smiled at her. "You're too vulnerable right now. Soon though, I promise."

Carrie's feelings vacillated between being hurt and knowing he was right. "I'll hold you to that promise." She said softly.

Chapter 13

The next few days were difficult. Carrie couldn't imagine surviving them without John's help and support. He helped pick out a tasteful urn and attended the very small private service for Martha. He sent flowers and held Carrie's hand when she needed it. John had personal leave, professional leave, sick leave and funeral leave. He didn't touch the professional leave, of course, but used one day of each of the others.

After the service John took Carrie to a small neighborhood restaurant. Although she looked tired and grieving she had lost the tense look that she had always worn. Now she seemed weary but content. John ordered dinner for them and they made small talk for a while. Out of the blue Carrie asked John, "Do you have vacation time?"

John answered, "Sure I do. I rarely use all of it, so it rolls over to the next year. Why?"

Carrie smiled for the first time in days. "I'd like to take a trip with you, somewhere. Anywhere. Away from the cold and snow and dreariness of New York in the winter. Since I'm inviting I'm willing to pay. I have some money stashed away for a rainy day and it works just as well on a snowy day, too. What do you think?"

John adjusted quickly to the idea of a vacation. "Sounds good. Where were you thinking?"

After a moment of thought Carrie suggested the first place she thought of. "Tahiti."

John whistled. "That's going to be pricey, especially this time of year. I wouldn't let you pay for all of it, but you might have to pay for your part of the trip."

"Well, that seems fair since it is my idea and I did offer to pay for all of it." Carrie responded. "Let me see what I can find on some trip websites and see if we can find some sort of a deal in the next few weeks. How much time do you need to let the department know about the use of your vacation time?"

John shook his head. "I'm not sure. I use it so infrequently that I really don't know. But I can find out!"

Carrie leaned across the table and whispered, "John, do you know what I want to do after we finish eating?" Her cheeks were pink and her eyes glistened.

John leaned forward and whispered, "I think I'm going to get to keep my promise tonight."

Carrie's cheeks flushed a darker pink and she nodded swiftly.

Chapter 14

The next two weeks passed in a hurry. Carrie had fallen behind in her writing while she had been taking care of her mother. She was very late on a manuscript for her publisher.

John went to a travel agent and got brochures on "warm weather getaways." Each of them was doing what they could to be ready to leave in three weeks. Now, the big question was, where?

Carrie: "Tahiti."

John: "Acapulco."

Carrie: "The Bahamas."

John: "The Virgin Islands."

Carrie: "The Antarctic?"

John: "Greenland?"

The last two suggestions were only jokes, but they were still undecided. The travel agent suggested the South of France. It was warm, not too crowded, not terribly expensive, and not too far away. Plus, it would have the benefit of being close enough to some European sites that they could go to, if they got tired of the sun. After some discussion they decided that the South of France was their destination.

Carrie was working through her grief. She had good days and she had days when she missed her mother tremendously. Having John helped fill the void in her world. Her writing changed subtly, too. The "love scenes" in her books improved since now she had experience to draw from.

John came to Carrie's apartment every evening. Some nights he stayed over, some nights he went home, especially if Carrie was on a "hot-streak" on one of her books. One evening about a week before departure John interrupted Carrie. "So, which book series are you working on, now?

Carrie looked up at John and rubbed the back of her neck. Her computer was just a little low and sometimes her neck would become tense. John stood behind her and began to massage the tense muscles while Carrie answered his question. "Currently I'm working on the WWII series. Rosie has only gotten "drilled" once in this chapter and I need to up her count. You know, it's kinda funny. The women who read this series are often in their 70s, 80s or even 90s. They lived this stuff and are very critical if I don't stay as least close to the history of the times. They also don't want explicit sex, they want "love" scenes and they have to have at least the promise of matrimony. Sometimes I kill off the GI boyfriend; sometimes the GI comes back but horribly disfigured by a grenade or something. Sometimes I have the boyfriend in the states but far away. I try to vary it enough that these older women will purchase essentially the same book over and over."

John asked, "Who's your GI this time?"

Carrie looked at her outline for the book and replied, "Colonel Daniel Waters. I always make them officers. Sells better."

"Does he get to come home?" John wanted to know.

Carrie returned to the outline. "Nope, he's doomed."

John continued to massage the kinks out of her neck. "What about the Civil War series? How do those women compare?"

Carrie warmed to her topic: market shares were interesting to her. "The women who read the Civil War series are usually from the south. Again, I have to be careful with historical accuracy as these women will blow me out of the water if I don't stay very close to the truth in both history and local legend. It's a tougher market. They also don't want extreme explicitness in the sex department. Matrimony isn't as important but love and passion (without being gross) is very important. These women are usually well educated and married, usually in their thirties or forties."

"And your Middle Ages series?" John asked.

"They are usually the youngest, the least educated, and the ones who want the most vivid sexual material. They don't give a rats' ass if I am historically accurate, just make sure that Penelope or whoever gets fondled at least once every chapter. It's the easiest series to write as I don't have to do much research." Carrie answered.

John stopped massaging and asked, "So how soon will you be ready to take it to the editor?" His hands strayed to her back, rubbing gentle circles.

"I don't have to take it, I can just e-mail it whenever it's ready, but I need to do it soon. She was expecting it last week and I should have it ready to go tomorrow." Carrie replied.

John leaned forward and kissed the side of her neck. "How about if I go home and let you work?"

Carrie nodded briskly. "Yeah, I really want to polish on this chapter and have it ready to go tomorrow."

John slipped quietly out the door.

Chapter 15

The trip departure day had arrived. John was up at 4:30am. He was packed and had accomplished everything he had intended. At 5:00am he presented himself at Carrie's apartment. He knocked quietly because he didn't want to wake the neighbors. Carrie yanked the door open, looking pissed and exhausted and had obviously been crying. She was holding a swimsuit in one hand and a box of tampons and a bottle of Advil in the other. John was alarmed. Carrie was not much of a crier.

"Carrie, honey, what's the matter?" John asked, alarmed.

Carrie wiped her eyes and said, "I got my period this morning! This is not how I had planned our trip. I had visions of making love with you on the beach."

John chuckled. The beach scene had looked so wonderful in "From here to Eternity," but in real life he doubted it was quite so great. "It's OK. I somehow think sex on the beach would deposit sand in some places where something that abrasive should probably not be put."

Even Carrie, annoyed and in pain as she was, had to laugh at that. "Yeah, you're right. Sex on the beach looks good in the movies, but in real life I do have my doubts."

John took her into his arms and said, "Don't worry about having your period. There are other ways to pleasure each other. We've just never done them because we have enjoyed regular sex so much. It'll be fine. Now, are you ready to head out?"

Carrie managed a smile and said, "Almost. Ready in 5."

John felt a disaster had been averted.

The South of France proved to be a beautiful place. John and Carrie walked on the beach, went to shows, ate in good restaurants and in general, relaxed. Both had been fighting life stress for so long that when the stress was gone they didn't miss it at all.

Carrie was too pale for the sun so she usually wore long sleeves and a hat. John, who could tan, chose not to. Carrie proved a charming traveling companion. The days melted one into another and they had no desire to return to their lives. After three weeks it was time to go home. John was out of vacation time.

On Monday, their last night, they took a stroll on the beach. As the sun touched the horizon John looked down into Carrie's soft, sweet face and said, "I love you, Carrie."

Carrie was too surprised to speak. She kissed him, and then they continued down the beach. John was troubled by her lack of response, however he let it go.

Their flight was on a Tuesday evening. At the airport Carrie and John checked in and waited for the flight. John noticed that Carrie was very quiet. He looked carefully at her face and noticed that she was tired looking. Seemed odd to him that someone returning from such a relaxing trip was tired. "Carrie, are you doing OK?"

Carrie flinched in surprise and answered, "Yeah, just a little tired."

"Can you sleep on planes? I can't." John said.

But Carrie fell asleep while the plane was still on the ground and slept all the way to their layover in Cincinnati. She woke up looking a little more rested. They left the jet and entered the airport to stretch and find a place to have dinner. Carrie was still unusually quiet.

John looked at Carrie with concern. Although not the chattiest woman in the world she usually made some conversation with him. They found a restaurant in the airport and got food. John noticed that Carrie seemed to be having trouble opening the top to her salad. John reached across the table and opened the plastic top for her. He whispered, "Carrie, is something wrong? Are you upset with me or something?"

Carrie looked at him with surprise and then answered, "No, John, I'm fine. Why would I be mad at you? I just feel kinda…weak."

John reached back across the table and felt her forehead. No fever.

She smiled and pulled away from his hand. She picked up her fork, dropped it, picked it up again, dropped it again and with a snarl of frustration picked it up for the third time. She began to eat in a listless manner.

Their layover was only about two hours so it was soon time to return to the plane. Carrie leaned against John's shoulder as soon as her seat belt was fastened and went immediately to sleep. John continued to be concerned but by then he was tired, too.

Once back at JFK Carrie came awake and walked still silently to baggage claim. They waited for their suitcases and then caught a cab back to their building. Carrie stayed awake on the cab ride. She still didn't speak much but she held John's hand.

John whispered quietly in her ear, "Did you have a good time on our trip?"

Carrie turned to John and answered truthfully, "It was one of the happiest times I've ever had, John."

They entered the building in the middle of the night. They were trying to be quiet so they wouldn't wake the other tenants. In the elevator John asked Carrie, "Do you want me to stay with you tonight?"

Her response worried John. "I'm really tired, John. I think I just need some sleep. How about if I see you tomorrow? Or later on today or whatever the heck it is."

John took no offense at her gentle rebuff. They separated and went to their own apartments.

The next day John didn't have to return to work so they spent it catching up on bills, mail, e-mail and errands. Carrie still seemed weary and John chalked it up to jet lag.

On Friday John returned to work. The time he had spent de-stressing had done him a lot of good. He was able to look around at his office and actually feel happy to be there. His co-workers were glad to have him back, too. John worked the weekend since he had been off and then went back on his regular schedule of 9 to 5 on Monday. On Friday disaster struck.

Chapter 16

John had a court appearance on Friday afternoon and was able to just go home immediately after court. He arrived at Carrie's apartment at 5:30. When he opened the door he nearly fell over Carrie's suitcase. She was standing just behind the suitcases, looking upset and surprised. "You're early, John."

John looked around at her suitcases with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Something was definitely wrong but he had no idea what or why. "Going somewhere?"

Carrie stared at John for a moment and then said, "Yes, John, I am." Her tone may have been an attempt at defiance, but it only came out sad.

"Any reason?" John asked, caustically.

Carrie shrugged. "I guess I just have itchy feet." He eyes were firmly fixed on the floor.

John wasn't a detective for nothing. He knew something was wrong, but he was still in the dark about what.

Still sarcastic to protect himself from Carrie's knowledge of how much he was in love with her John said, "So you were just going to take off, not say a word?"

Carrie held up a sheet of paper. "I was trying to write you a note." He could see marks on the paper but not what was written there.

"Oh, well, then that makes it all just fine, doesn't it?" he demanded.

"No, I guess it doesn't," said Carrie sadly.

For a moment John and Carrie stood looking at each other. John felt as if his heart was breaking but couldn't show it. Carrie knew her heart was breaking and wouldn't show it. She picked up the handle of the rolling suitcase and walked to the door. "Goodbye, John." Those were the last words Carrie ever spoke aloud to John. She walked out the door. From the window John saw her get in a cab and leave his life.

The rest of the weekend was a blur for John. He wondered why, why, why. When was she coming back? He used his key Sunday night to look for clues in Carrie's apartment and discovered an unknown woman in the apartment. She screamed with fright.

"Who the hell are you?" John demanded.

"Sylvia Langley, Carrie's editor. Who the hell are you?"

"John Munch, I was Carrie's…boyfriend. Am. Whatever." John answered. "What are you doing here? Do you know where Carrie is? Is she OK?"

Sylvia tried to reply to John's myriad questions. "I'm here to pick up Carrie's hard drive from her computer. She called me yesterday and told me to come over and pick it up. It has three more novels on it. No, I don't know where Carrie is. When I asked she was very cagey. And, no, she didn't sound OK; she sounded like she had been crying."

After a few moments John said, "If you do find out anything about Carrie will you call me? I'm worried about her. Here's my card." John pulled one of his business cards out of his wallet and gave it to Sylvia.

With nothing else to say John retreated to his apartment.

Chapter 17

The next weekend came at the end of the month. The building super came around to collect rent on the last day of the month. In a moment of inspiration John asked him about Carrie's rent. The super told John a piece of unsettling news. "Miss Davenport told me to let the Salvation Army come in and take all of her stuff 'cause she wouldn't be back and where she was going she wouldn't need anything she left behind. Sounds fishy to me, but what do I know? Hey, you're a cop. Do you think she's done anything illegal? Had to get out of town, maybe."

John very nearly told the man off, but decided that would not be helpful. He knew the department frowned on punching unarmed citizens just for being assholes. He held his tongue and walked away. By the end of the weekend the Salvation Army had totally cleaned out Carrie's apartment leaving it ready for a new tenant. John felt bereft as he watched Carrie's belongings being carried away. He still had no idea where she was or why she had left.

The next ten days were a nightmare. John waited, hoping to hear from Carrie. At work he did his job adequately, nothing more. The only person who knew of the break-up was Fin. When two people work so closely they share a lot and John confided in Fin that Carrie had left him.

Fin's response was typical of him. "You screw-up big time, Munch?"

"Not that I can remember." John sounded sad even to himself.

"Carrie didn't seem like the kind to do something like that. Know what I mean?" asked Fin.

John concurred. "No, she really didn't. I can't imagine where she is and what she's doing. She left all of her stuff and just disappeared. It seems so out of character for her. I wonder where she is?"

His questions would soon be answered.

Chapter 18

Dr. George Huang entered his office. He sorted the mail, putting it in order by postmark and then began to open all the pieces. He had been testifying in a trial in upstate New York and had been gone for the last three days. When he came to the large manila envelope he checked the return address. It meant nothing to him, so she opened it. Out fell a single sheet of computer paper and a thick legal-sized envelope. The sheet of computer paper was addressed to him while the envelope was addressed to John Munch. Laying the envelope aside John picked up the sheet of paper and began to read.

Dr. Huang:

My name is Carrie Davenport. I had the pleasure of meeting you

at a retirement dinner I attended with John Munch. With this letter

you will also find an envelope for John. It is imperative that he

receive this envelope as soon as possible. It is also imperative that

he not open this letter alone. I want him to be with friends since my

letter holds both good and bad news. When you do this is up to you

but please do it soon.

Thank you for your attention.

Sincerely,

Carrie Davenport

George Huang felt a certain pressure to do as requested. Somehow, it seemed vital.

Within the hour he was at the 15th precinct. Entering Cragen's office he showed the captain the letter. Cragen looked interested but worried. He wasted no time, going to the door and yelling, "Fin, Munch, my office."

Fin and Munch entered the captain's office. Cragen looked at George. George, who belonged to the rip-the-band-aid-off-all-at-once mentality, jumped into the breach. "Detective Munch, I received this envelope at my office today." He placed the manila envelope on the table. John recognized Carrie's handwriting, but it looked somehow different.

"Why did she send it to you?" John wondered.

George handed John the letter from Carrie and let him read it. John read it aloud and then said, "Odd."

George handed John the thick legal-sized envelope. For a moment George was afraid that John wouldn't take it. But, finally, John took the envelope and ripped it open – and his life changed forever.

At the top of the page was the date a week ago and an odd phrase: Scribed by Judith Sandon, RN. It meant nothing to John for the moment, but he forged ahead.

After clearing his throat he began to read:

My Dearest John, (here John paused as this was not what he was expecting)

In this letter I will try to correct my sins of omission and commission, correct

my lies, and tell you some things I neglected to. So, here goes, John. Fasten your

seatbelt, it's going to be a bumpy ride.

First, I need to tell you that I love you. I'm so sorry I couldn't respond in kind

when you first told me that

you loved me when we were in France. I don't know why I couldn't say

those words. Shouldn't be hard for a romance novelist, but what can I say.

I was mentally unprepared and I froze.

I recognized the feeling, but couldn't respond as I should have. I hope you can

forgive that. This is definitely a sin of omission.

Next, John the night I lost my virginity with you was one of the most

wonderful nights of my life. I'm so grateful that you were not repulsed

or annoyed that I was a virgin. It was a beautiful night and I hope you

can remember that you made me very, very happy.

Here, John paused again. While not actually embarrassed it did make her feel a little strange to have his co-workers hear about his sex life. But then he pressed on.

Speaking of being happy, our trip to France was one of the happiest times

of my life. Your humor makes even standing in a long line at the airport

entertaining. The funny things you said and the jokes you made helped

the trip to be very enjoyable. That trip was the last happy time of my life.

It was also the last healthy time of my life. (John stopped again to mentally

regroup before continuing.) I was exhausted when we returned to the U.S.

I just thought I had a bug or something, but after we had been home three

days I knew something was very wrong. I went to see my doctor who

sent me immediately to a neurologist. She diagnosed me with amlyotropic

lateral sclerosis (better known as Lou Gehrig's disease).

George gasped. As a doctor he knew exactly where this was headed, and it was nowhere good. His heart went out to John. John handed the letter to Fin and said, "Keep reading, Fin." Fin grasped the letter and picked up where John left off. John sat pinching the bridge of his nose, fighting for control.

She went on to tell me that I have a strain that is unusually virulent. The

illness is chewing away at my muscles. She advised (kindly) that I put

my affairs in order and decide how I want to spend the time I have left.

This particular strain is unusually ugly with victims going from development

to death in about two months. She gave me a prescription for a hospice

in the Midwest and even helped make a reservation for me.

John interrupted the letter, again. "George, I don't know much about Lou Gehrig's disease, but can you tell me, is she in much pain?"

George was glad that he could be truthful with John when he said, "Lou Gehrig's patients have very little discomfort. They just get weaker and weaker." For John the penny dropped. He remembered her fatigue on the return trip, her inability to hold onto the fork and they now made sense.

John considered that for a moment with a look of relief on his face. Although not good news, it was better than hearing that Carrie was in agony. "Fin, can you keep reading, please?"

Fin continued reading.

After the first few moments of shock my next thoughts were of you.

I couldn't ask you to care for me in my last weeks. I had just come

off doing that for my parents and I couldn't ask you to do that. You

would have said yes even if you didn't want to. I just couldn't do that

to you. So, I decided to leave you a note and go. As you know, that

didn't work out as planned. Please, John, forgive me for the awful way

I treated you. I should have been more honest with you. I hope someday

you will find it within yourself to forgive me for the inexcusable way I

treated you. Certainly, this is a sin of commission.

In the time between diagnosis and departure I "put my affairs in order."

I went to see my lawyer and asked him to take care of my interests.

While I was there I made you the beneficiary of my estate. I have

no other family and I certainly did not want the government to get

my money. Also, I just want you to have it.

By the way, John, did I ever mention to you that I'm….rich? At

the close of this business day I am worth about 5 million dollars.

I have paid for the hospice and made my final arrangements and

there is still about 5 million dollars. The lawyer has your name and

address and will be in touch after my death.

Romance novelists don't make that much, but my money is

inherited and I only wrote as a profitable hobby. It gave me

something to do while I cared for my parents. The fact that it

was financially profitable was only a happy coincidence. I never

mentioned it because I didn't want anyone to think you were a

gold-digger and I didn't want the money to come between us.

I had every intention of telling you, I just didn't get around to it.

Sorry. I guess this is kind of a lie.

John, did I mention that I have a car? I bought a Mercedes

before I left Kansas. In Kansas a Mercedes is a status symbol,

here it is a magnet for car thieves. Plus, I'm a lousy city driver.

Here is the key, the title, the proof of insurance, and the parking

garage receipt. It's an awesome car, please enjoy it.

Well, John, I'm almost finished here. Take your time and get

over how you are feeling, then get back out there and find

someone else. Try or some dating service.

You are a wonderful person and you don't deserve to be alone.

Maybe that gorgeous ADA, (Novak?). Don't withdraw from

the world. I love you, someone else will, too.

Carrie Davenport

When Fin stopped reading silence followed. Fin spoke again, "John, there's a copy of her will attached along with the car stuff." Silence reigned again.

Chapter 19

John sat absolutely still, pinching the bridge of his nose. His head was spinning, his stomach was churning. His whole world was turned inside out and upside down. Grief and depression rained down upon him.

After what seemed like a long time George spoke, "John, I won't ask how you're feeling because you're armed and because you have to be feeling so many new things that I don't feel the need to ask."

Cragen then spoke up, "John, do you want to go home for the rest of the day? Start fresh tomorrow."

John was able to raise his head and lied, "No, Captain. I'm actually OK."

He became aware of an arm around his shoulder and knew it was Fin. John was not the sort of man to depend emotionally on anyone else, but he was grateful to Fin for the support he was being given.

John rose, took the papers from Fin, folded them neatly and said, "I guess we should get back to work." He left the room with Fin close behind.

Cragen and George stayed in the office. George asked, "Captain, do you think I should go talk to him?"

Cragen was thoughtful for a moment. "No, George, but we should take him out for a beer after work."

George looked surprised. "Do you think that's the best way to handle this?"

Cragen smiled ruefully and said, "I'm not sure there is a good way to handle this, but just a little fellowship might be the best way to help John."

By 6:30 the crew had descended on their favorite hangout. Elliot, Olivia, Fin, Casey Novak, the Captain, George and, of course, John we sitting around a table. Word had circulated around the squad room (in an abbreviated but fairly accurate form) and everyone wanted to show John their support. John was quiet in the extreme even as everyone else visited boisterously. About 7:30 conversation began to fall off and people were breaking up to go to their respective homes.

Fin leaned over and spoke to John. "Hey, Munch, want to go get some dinner?"

John looked at Fin and said, "I appreciate the offer, but I need to go home."

Fin looked at him critically and then nodded.

John paid for his drink and left.

"Is it smart to let him go off alone?" asked Casey.

"Ya got me, counselor. I don't know what the right thing to do is. He's gotta get his head around this, somehow." Fin responded.

Chapter 20

John entered his apartment. He pulled out the envelope Carrie had sent and carefully reread the whole thing again. This time he cherished every word, thought and deed that this wonderful woman had sent to him. He untaped the key and put it on his key ring and slowly perused the will. It was only after the will began to look very blurry that he realized that he was weeping. John wiped his eyes and began to shake himself, mentally.

"OK, moron, you gotta move on," he mentally chastised himself. Somehow, it didn't help much.

John knew what he had to do. He had to try to find Carrie. His first call was to LaGuardia Airport. Even identifying himself as a detective didn't help. They refused to reveal when or even if a Carrie Davenport had flown from their facility. He would need a court order. John was incredibly frustrated by this turn of events. How would he find Carrie?

John picked up the envelope and looked at the postmark on it. It read Minneapolis, Minnesota. A few minutes on Mapquest revealed Minneapolis to be a large city. A phone call to the Minneapolis post office revealed it to be a hub for postal activity in the Midwest. Her letter could have been mailed from any of 5 states. John was no closer to finding Carrie than he had been. John was not ready to concede defeat but he didn't know where to turn next.

A little time on the Internet made John realize that it was going to be impossible to find Carrie unless she wanted to be found. There were three airports she might have gone to and each one had several hundred flights for the day she left. It didn't take John long to figure that 3 airports x 788 flights was too large a number for him to be able to track.

He still wanted desperately to find Carrie, but he felt stymied.

Since he was already on the computer he looked up information on amlyotropic lateral sclerosis. George had been reasonably truthful with him. While Carrie was not in pain in the truest sense of the word, her death would result from heart, respiratory, liver or kidney failure. The last few days would be miserable as her internal muscles failed. The gratitude John felt began to wane as he realized that Carrie's death would not be a painless as he had hoped.

The next few days we painful in the extreme. John ached so badly (both physically and mentally) that he finally took a sick day to simply stay home and mourn. John lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling without any coherent thought of any kind.

Midafternoon, his land-line rang. Almost no one called that number, so John answered. "Munch," he said, out of habit.

"May I please speak to Detective John Munch?" spoke a cultured voice.

After a moment of indecision John said, "Speaking."

"You are Mr. Munch?" the voice asked again.

"Yes," John said irritably. "Who's this?"

"My name is Dean Fitzsimmons. I'm Carrie Davenport's attorney. She arranged with me to call you at her death."

John's breath caught. "She's passed away?"

"Yes, I received a call from the hospice that she died early this morning." Dean Fitzsimmons answered. "I extend my condolences to you. Carrie cared for you very deeply, if what she did in changing her will implies caring."

John took a few deep breaths before saying, "What do you need from me?" Even as his heart was crying out in pain and mourning.

Mr. Fitzsimmons said, "I need to visit with you to show you the investments that are now yours. Would you be available in the next few days?"

John said, "I can come by after I leave work at 5pm tomorrow. Where is your office located?"

Mr. Fitzsimmons told John his address and then expressed his condolences again before hanging up.

John lay in immobility for a very long time.

Chapter 21

At 5:15pm John stood outside the law office of Dean Fitzsimmons. It was located in an old brownstone. John rang the bell and waited. A few moments later he was "buzzed" in.

Mr. Fitzsimmons met John and shook his hand. He escorted John to a conference room where the table was covered with many papers. Dean Fitzsimmons began to explain to John all of the investments Carrie had left to him. He listened for what seemed to be a very long time. Finally, Mr. Fitzsimmons said, "Do you have any questions, detective?"

John replied, "How long have you handled Carrie's investments?"

"Since she and her mother moved her nearly six years ago."

John looked around at the impressive investments and said, "How 'bout if we keep things just like they are for now? You seem to have done a good job, and I don't know enough about investments to not screw them up."

Fitzsimmons looked pleased at the compliment. "Well, I did try to do a good job for Carrie. She was such a lovely person. I'll miss her. And we can certainly leave the investments with me for as long as you like. Also, there's a checkbook that she requested be changed over to your name. All you have to do is go to this bank and sign a signature card. Then all the money that's in there is yours."

John opened the checkbook and looked at the balance. The world seemed to be spinning all around him in an odd grey color. When the world stopped spinning quite so fast Fitzsimmons was standing directly in front of him, looking concerned.

"Are you all right, Detective Munch?" Fitzsimmons asked, worriedly. "I thought for a moment you might have fainted or something."

John made a small show of bravado and said weakly, "No, I'm fine. I do think I need to go home now. Incidentally, do you know where Carrie has been these last few weeks?" Nausea and dizziness still threatened but not quite so intensely.

Fitzsimmons nodded and said, "Yes, the hospice was located in Wichita, Kansas. Why?"

John, now realizing that it was too late for it to make a difference said, "I was just curious, I guess."

Still looking concerned Fitzsimmons backed away from John and gestured to the table. "I'll take care of these for you. Anytime you have a question or anything please call me."

John nodded and rose slowly. "Thank you for you attention. I'm sure Carrie compensated you, right?"

Dean Fitzsimmons smiled brilliantly and said, "Oh, yes! My services are paid up."

Feeling old and sick John left the lawyer's office. On the way he stopped at the parking garage where the Mercedes was located. The attendant drove the car to John. John stood looking at the red two-seated convertible for a long time. He didn't have the heart for a test drive so he gave the parking receipt back to the attendant and took a cab home.

Chapter 22

An odd thing began to happen to John. He came to several realizations about himself and his life. The first realization that came to him was that Carrie had truly loved him. The money had nothing to do with it. It was just something that happened. But, on the heels of that came the realization that he had made her happy. The next realization was that he no longer had to work at SVU. So it helped him not feel that work was such drudgery. That helped his attitude. The final realization was that Carrie was right: he needed to find someone else. That realization was unnerving for the time being, so he put that behind him.

One day as John came down the hall he saw George Huang. George looked at John for a moment and said, "How are you, detective?" George continued to be a psychiatrist even when he didn't have to.

John suddenly spoke from his heart. "You know what I wish, George? I wish I had a picture of Carrie. We didn't like cameras and so I don't even have a photo of her."

George spoke in a thoughtful manner. "She was a writer, wasn't she? Sometimes writes have their pictures on book jackets."

John's eyes blazed. "You're right! She wrote under a pseudonym, but maybe her editor has a picture of her. Thanks, George."

At his desk John phoned Evanwood Publishing and asked for Sylvia. He couldn't think of her last name, so he asked for "Carrie Underwood's publisher." He was put on hold briefly and then the voice he recognized as Sylvia's came on the line.

She spoke in a rapid-fire style. "Oh, I'm so glad you finally called. I was trying to find you and talk to you. You gave me your card, but I misplaced it, and I couldn't remember your name. I knew you were a detective but I couldn't remember the precinct you were in. Can you come in one of these days soon? I really do need to see you."

"I need to see you, too. When could I come in?" John asked tentatively.

"Anytime, anytime at all," Sylvia sang out. The time was set for 5:30 in two days time.

Chapter 23

Evanwood Publishing was a major publishing house. John entered from the street level and recognized Sylvia immediately. She rushed forward enveloping John in a hug.

Her gushy style made John uncomfortable. They walked down a long hall to a suite of offices. Sylvia ushered him into her office and invited him to set down.

Sylvia sat down, too. She leaned forward and said, "Detective, I am so very happy you finally decided to call me. I have needed to see you and couldn't find you so I had to make some "editorial" decision on Carrie's latest book myself. I hope that's not a problem."

John felt confused. "Why would that be a problem for me?"

Sylvia's face grew serious. "Detective, that night you saw me taking Carrie's hard-drive, well, I discovered two novels from the series that she writes. But, I also found another novel on there. It was autobiographical in nature to some degree. Since I don't know Carrie's whole life I hesitated to publish it as a biography. Fiction just sells better unless you're famous and have all kinds of juicy details."

John was still in the dark. "Why would any of this concern me?"

Sylvia replied, "Because all of her royalties are to be paid to you. Didn't you know that?"

John shook his head and shrugged.

Sylvia looked sad. "I'm sorry, detective, I thought you knew. As for the editorial decisions I have to think maybe you should make them. You play a prominent part in the book. In fact, I got the galleys back from manufacturing only a few days ago. You should look at them and then tell me if you want it published as is or if it needs changes."

Sylvia opened a box on the floor and pulled out a book. With trembling hands John took the book and turned it over to the back. Carrie's happy, pretty face smiled up at him from the base of the Statue of Liberty. The sun illuminated her face and the wind was whipping up her hair in the photo. John had what he had come for.

John rose slowly from the chair. The book "A Life of Love," was clutched in his hand. At that moment he was incapable of speech. John walked away from Sylvia without another word.

Chapter 24

John went directly home. He got into bed with Carrie's book in his lap and began to read. Four hours later John closed the book and stretched out on the bed with her book lying on his chest. John's knowledge of Carrie's writing style had been very limited and he was impressed with her handling of the subjects in the book: love for her parents', service without servitude, hope, love for him, and finally, illness without self-pity. The ache in his heart had reached gigantic proportions. She remembered him with gratitude and love. She was able to describe their relationship without it seeming tawdry and without revealing too many sexual details. She remembered losing her virginity with enjoyment, not with pain. John knew for a fact that it had not gone as well as she portrayed it in the book, but if she had wanted to remember it that way then it was fine with him. The sexual practices they had played with in the south of France were lightly touched on, not told in extreme detail. Her descriptions of her childhood and family responsibilities gave John a clearer idea of who she had been.

The next day John called Sylvia. "I don't know how much you tweaked it, Sylvia, but I thought it was beautiful."

Sylvia thanked him and said that he would begin to receive royalty checks in a few weeks.

John asked her one last question. "Sylvia, if I got you the name of the hospice that looked after Carrie in her last weeks, could you send some of the royalties to them?"

Sylvia assured John that would be quite possible.

So that's how the "Great Plains Hospice" in Wichita, Kansas began receiving royalties from the sale of romance novels. John did this anonymously as he did not want any publicity. John also spent some of the money in the new checking account on some new clothes and a tune-up on the Mercedes. Those were about the only things that he really wanted or needed. The pain began to recede and was slowly being replaced with loving memories and gratitude.

Chapter 25

It was now back in the present time….

"John?" a voice said.

John, lost in thought, jumped slightly.

Casey Novak laughed softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."

John rose to his feet and held out a chair for Casey. "I was just thinking and didn't hear you walk up."

Casey spoke pleasantly, "I was so surprised when you invited me to dinner. This place is expensive. Can you afford it? Do you want me to pay for my part of the dinner?"

John smiled at the beautiful woman across from him and said, "No, I can afford it."

Epilogue

One year later….

John stepped off the ladder. His neck hurt abominably and he stopped to rub it. This is why he had chosen police work over house painting. After resting briefly he looked up at the ceiling to admire his handiwork. It looked good.

Casey wondered into the room. She smiled broadly and said, "The nursery looks great John!"

John looked in wonderment at his very pregnant wife. Most pregnant women worried about how they looked, but Casey seemed more comfortable with her gravid body than she had before. John took her hand and led her over to the ladder. He sat on the third step and placed his paint covered hands on her burgeoning belly. The child inside, his son, kicked strongly. Casey winced slightly but appeared to enjoy it as much as John did. The amnio done two weeks ago revealed a healthy baby boy. John and Casey were over-joyed.

Casey had enjoyed the first two dates she had gone on with John. She also had heard the rumors about his relationship with Carrie Davenport and the "tell-all" book she had written. Casey quietly acquired "A Life of Love" and read it that evening. It was all she needed to know. She then knew that John was the man for her. There didn't seem to be a way to tell John that she had read the book, so Casey let it go.

In the next few weeks Casey and John had been on several dates. Away from the work environment John was much more relaxed. So was Casey, for that matter. They attended plays, concerts, movies and had dinners out. Sometimes they went to one another's apartments and had long conversations over wine and cheese.

Six weeks later John proposed to Casey. Casey said yes, but that they needed to make a definitive decision about children. John told Casey that none of his other four wives had been able to conceive so he assumed that there was something wrong with him. After much discussion John and Casey decided to marry and let the "children" question work itself out as best it could.

They traveled to Atlantic City, New Jersey for a long weekend. They were married in a wedding chapel and returned to New York in time for work on Monday. For whatever reason, John and Casey decided not to tell anyone for a while. It was sweet, holding a secret like that to themselves.

On their one month anniversary Casey was up even earlier than usual. John was aware of her moving around the apartment, rattling paper sacks, and then locking herself in the bathroom. It seemed sort of odd, so John got out of bed and knocked on the door. Apparently, Casey had not known that John was there because she gave a little shriek of surprise.

John asked, "Are you all right, Casey? You aren't sick are you?"

The door opened and Casey handed him a small pink object. "Here!"

John took the object even though he didn't know what it was. Across the top it said, EPT and below was a plus sign. Casey's eyes were closed. She asked, "So are we or aren't we going to have a baby?"

John looked at the pregnancy test and said, quietly, "Dear God, I guess we are."

Casey's eyes popped open. "Oh, John, I thought you'd be happy about this. And I had no idea it would happen so fast."

John, who had no desire to hurt Casey, spoke fast. "I am happy. Just a little surprised, that's all. Are we going to tell people right away?"

Casey gave it a moments thought before she said, "Let's wait until I see if I can carry a pregnancy. I've never been pregnant before and I'm not a kid at 39. Let's see how this goes."

Another sweet secret proved a little harder to keep. Casey wanted to share her news with Olivia Benson, her best friend. Casey knew well enough that if she told even one person it would make the rounds. The pregnancy progressed easily and well. During the fourth month of the pregnancy Casey made a momentous decision: on the first day she had to wear maternity clothes she would also wear her wedding ring. John supported both decisions completely and wore his wedding ring, too.

It was a gorgeous fall day when Casey entered 1PP where her office was. She strolled in wearing a maternity power suit, and her wedding and engagement rings. Never had Casey felt so happy or beautiful. The District Attorney, her boss, was not amused. Casey was his own personal workhorse and he was not thrilled that she would need time off in the months ahead.

The District Attorney drawled, "I suppose congrats are in order. Do you know who the father is?"

Casey held up her left hand all the while reminding herself to keep all of her fingers up, not just the middle one and said, "My husband."

This time the DA was pissed off. "And just when were you going to let my office know about this?"

Casey felt a whole assortment of smart-ass comments come into her mouth. She managed to say, "I'm telling you now." even as she dreamed of stomping on his balls.

"This guy gotta name?"

"Yes, and you know him. Detective John Munch." Answered Casey.

The DA laughed rudely. "You gotta be kidding me."

Casey held onto her temper with both hands and managed a tight smile. "No, I'm perfectly serious."

The DA's laughter died away. "So, what are your plans?"

Casey answered, "I don't know, but you'll be the first to know when we get them made." She turned on her heel and marched out of his office and into her own. It was only then that she allowed herself to shake with rage. She considered calling John but decided that was silly. Everything would work out eventually.

In court that afternoon Olivia Benson stayed to talk to Casey. "So, it's true! I'm so happy for you. I can't believe that you and John…"

Casey smiled at Olivia. "We've been married five months. Sorry I didn't tell you before, but it was just so complicated."

Olivia hugged her friend and said, "I'm so thrilled. When are you due?"

Casey answered, "In about 5 months."

Olivia left court to go congratulate John.

That evening Casey repeated her conversations with the DA and Olivia to John. He was seriously annoyed at the DA and was in favor of telling him exactly what he thought of his treatment of a pregnant woman. Casey had something else on her mind.

"John, have you ever wanted to live in a house? Not an apartment or a condo?"

John, who had never given the matter much thought, was surprised. "I don't know, Casey. Is there something on your mind?"

Casey spoke carefully. "I'd like a place where our child can play outside, that's all."

John had never spoken to Casey about his "inheritance" from Carrie. The novel, "A Life of Love" had been on the New York Times Bestseller List for months. It seemed that women all over the world could identify with the life of Carrie Davenport and they bought her book like hotcakes. Royalties poured in. Now all of her novels were selling better than they ever had. John was a very rich man.

"Would you like to look at a house somewhere? Maybe in Brooklyn or on Long Island?" John suggested.

Things can happen quickly in a month. Casey was ready for her amnio and a house had been picked. Casey was adamant: the amnio had to be done before she was willing to put money down on a house. When asked what her reasoning was she simply answered that if there was anything wrong with the child she wanted to be able to abort the child and continue living in Manhattan. It seemed a little cold-blooded, but John understood.

The day of the amnio arrived. John knew nothing about what an amnio was or how it was done. Casey seemed a little nervous. John sat by Casey's head and watched the doctor use a Doppler to determine the position of the baby. Then, to John's horror, she picked up the largest, thickest needle he had ever seen and approached Casey stomach. In a panic John asked, "Are you going to anesthetize her or something?"

"Can't," answered the doctor. "It messes with the results when I do that."

Casey reached out for John's hands. "It'll be fine, John. Don't be frightened, I'll be fine." With her gentle words and loving touches Casey was able to get John through the test. The results proved that all was well.

House purchase plans continued. A four bedroom house in Brooklyn was found and purchased. It was immaculately clean and needed little more than paint for the nursery. John found that he liked home ownership for the most part. The joys of lawn care escaped him, but he figured that in time he would learn to love mowing.

John finally got around to telling Casey all about Carrie and her financial gifts to him. It was only her generosity that made it possible for them to move from a cramped apartment to a spacious house. Even though John was grateful to Carrie for the gifts he did not turn her into a martyr. He was able to remember her as a person with faults and shortcomings, just like everyone else. Casey understood John's perspective and felt no jealousy at the memories he retained.

Five months later…

"Push, Casey, push hard now!" the obstetrician instructed.

Casey, who had escued all pain medication, was in tremendous pain. Sweat ran off her face, and made it hard for John to hold her hands. Twenty hours of labor had left her exhausted. Even after attending many crime scenes John was horrified at what women went through to bring a child into the world. Even as John watched the baby's head began to crown. A moment later, his son's head was delivered and a few moments after that, the rest of the little body came into view. Casey was shaking with pain and still dripping sweat when the doctor laid the newborn on her stomach while she cut the cord and began rubbing the baby with a towel. It was like a miracle for Casey; suddenly the pain seemed far in the past. The baby was alive and well and so was she. Soon, her son was in her arms, wrapped in a receiving blanket and no longer crying. He looked at Casey with an expression of calm and interest. Casey turned to John and said, "Here's your son, John, want to hold him?"

John took the child into his arms and an amazing transformation occurred: he was suddenly crying. Casey took a tissue and tenderly wiped his eyes. John looked from his wife to his son and back. "I've never been so happy!"

Casey looked at her husband and son and said, "You know, we probably should name him. What name did we decide on? I'm fairly sure we decided that calling the baby "Crunch And" was just a joke. Right?"

"Actually, we didn't, but I was thinking that Daniel Munch sound good. I mean, really, there's only so much you can do with a last name like Munch." John thought aloud.

"Did we get a middle name?" Casey asked.

John shook his head and said, "No, we didn't even get a first name."

Casey's suggestion amazed John. "How about Charles?"

"Daniel Charles Munch. I like that. How did you come up with Charles?"

Casey smiled at John and said, "I was thinking how much we owe Carrie and that maybe giving the baby a middle name that started with her first initial might be a nice thought."

John looked at his wife through a haze of tears and said, "Casey, that's a terrific suggestion. I'm sure Carrie would have appreciated the thought."

When Daniel was six weeks old Casey began to have thoughts of returning to work. She wanted to and didn't want to. Finding decent daycare for a new born was almost impossible. She was frustrated and also tired of hearing from the DA about her return to work plans.

Sylvia Langley called one afternoon when Daniel was two months old. She sounded excited as she asked to speak to John. Casey took her number and promised to have John call her. When John returned her call the next day she broke some momentous news. A movie company wanted a meeting about making "A Life of Love" into a movie. She wanted to meet with John and the movie company's attorney in a few days time. John wanted Casey to attend with him as he didn't know what to expect.

On the day of the meeting John and Casey showed up at Sylvia Langley's office. They brought Dean Fitzsimmons with them to help give them a sense of leverage. The meeting went well with all parties coming to a mutually beneficial agreement. John and Casey decided to sell the rights to Carrie Davenport's life story. The movie company attorney wrote them a very generous check and promised never to bother them again.

On the way home John said to Casey, "You know, Casey, with the money we have you could stay home, never have to deal with scumbag, assholes again."

Casey was quiet for a while as she thought it over. "John, better than that, I would like to go back to work but I have to have good daycare for Daniel. What I'd like to do is use some of that money to build a guesthouse on the back of our property and move my mother in. She needs something to do, we would have reliable daycare, and I would feel better about going back to work. What do you think, John?"

John turned to Casey and said, "That's the best idea I've ever heard!"

Within a week the invitation had been issued to Casey's mom. She was thrilled to give up her efficiency apartment in Queens and move to Brooklyn. A neighbor recommended a contractor who was between jobs. He came to their property and gave them a very reasonable quote on a guesthouse that he could start immediately. In about two months time a small but luxurious guesthouse was erected. It had a living room/dining room combo, kitchen, bath, and two bedrooms. One bedroom was established as a nursery that looked exactly like Daniel's nursery. John and Casey wanted Daniel to feel as much at home in the guesthouse as in his own home. Having a grandma in residence took much of the pressure off Casey and allowed her to return to work when Daniel was six months old. Casey's mom was thrilled to get to look after her only grandson and Casey was glad to have dependable daycare. It was a nearly perfect arrangement. As for John, he didn't care what happened as long as Casey was happy. It was an attitude that he know had ruined his previous marriages. In those cases he had only been concerned with his own happiness. Putting Casey's happiness and Daniel's welfare above his own made all the difference. They were all happy, now.

Six months later…

John got out of the rental car. He stretched his back and then turned to Casey to see if she needed help with Daniel. At one year old Daniel was just beginning to walk and was quite a handful for them. He looked absurdly like his father. Casey lifted the sleeping child from the car seat and settled him on her left hip. He nestled down against her and went back to sleep.

"Want me to carry him?" asked John. "Is he too heavy for you?"

"No, I'm good for now," replied Casey. "Is the ground really uneven here?"

"Not too bad, really, for a cemetery," responded John.

Wichita, Kansas was a bustling small city. It was also the vacation destination for John and Casey. They had wanted to get away from New York and John had suggested seeing where Carrie had spent the last weeks of her life. On the first day they had visited the hospice, checked into the Bellagio Suites, gone to the Sedgwick County Zoo. Today was spent finding the cemetery where Carrie was buried. The cemetery was located in the northern part of the city, near Wichita State University.

John had been able to find the RN who had scribed Carrie's letter. She was happy to talk to him about Carrie's last weeks.

Judith sat across from John in the sunlit dayroom of Great Plains Hospice. She seemed relaxed and comfortable. "Carrie was sad to be dying. I know that much because she told me. Most people are when you stop and think about it, but she wasn't bitter or angry like some are. She had come to terms with what was happening to her. As she composed her letter and I scribed she was able to tell me stories about her relationship with you. She really was very happy and in love with you. I encouraged her to call you so you would know that she was OK but she didn't think that was a good idea. I'm not sure why. She wasn't forthcoming with a reason for her thinking."

John looked out the window at the wheat fields and tried to decide what he was feeling. He asked the final question that was on his mind. "How were her last hours?"

Judith was able to create a vivid mental picture for John. "In the last days her respiratory system was in distress. We kept her sedated for her own comfort. She died peacefully in her sleep."

While not a great answer it did give John some much needed peace of mind.

With nothing else to say, John thanked Judith for her time and left the hospice.

It was a gorgeous early summer day and John was enjoying the beauty of the Midwest. He had found the cemetery easily, contacted the caretaker, and located the grave. He and Casey stood in front of the small grave admiring the stone that had been erected on Carrie's grave. It was quite small and had only her name and the dates of her birth and death. John reached out and touched the stone with reverence. As he stood touching the stone a mental picture formed of Carrie as he had never seen her: driving the red Mercedes convertible between the Kansas wheat fields, the sun and wind caressing her skin. He knew she had enjoyed the beauty of a Kansas summer day. Casey held onto his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. John turned and kissed her forehead. The small family turned and walked back to the rental car. New York City was waiting for them. John had said his good-bye to Carrie and was truly ready to move on.