Author's Notes: There are a few mentions of SVU canon and events as it takes place following the SVU Season 9 episode "Alternate". However, it is most primarily a Homicide story, focusing only on John and Kay, so I haven't tagged it a crossover. I hope you enjoy; this is my first foray more into H:LOTS writing.

September 2007

The call came unexpectedly, as most of his calls did. Months, sometimes a year or two, could go by before he might ring her up out of nowhere—to talk, to check in on her, to sometimes seek an ear he could bend with stories only she might appreciate.

On this night, the call came as Kay was relaxing in bed, half-reading a book until her eyes became too heavy to focus on the page in front of her. She kept her cellphone near at night, just in case, even if rare was the case anyone in this small and tranquil place actually needed her for a genuine emergency.

She needed a moment to recognize the number, puzzling at the New York area code. New York, who did she...? Oh, of course. She flipped the phone open before it went to voicemail and answered with sleepy confusion, "John?"

"Kay. I didn't catch you at a bad time, did I?"

John Munch's voice was immediately recognizable to her; it always would be. Also was the note of tension in that voice, the impression that something wasn't quite right. "No, you didn't, but...is something wrong, John? You okay?"

"Can't I simply call in the middle of the night to hear the dulcet tones of your beautiful voice?"

She rolled her eyes automatically and fought against the smile that no one was there to see. "'Course you can, but it's not as if you call me on a regular basis."

"You're right, I'm sorry." There was a pause, and she could hear him letting out a heavy sigh. "I did something really stupid, Kay. Something only you could understand."

"Don't tell me you got married again."

"No. Worse than that." Another pause. "I took the sergeant's exam. And passed."

"Oh, Munchkin," she groaned, pushing her hair back with her free hand. "What on Earth possessed you to do that?"

"A bar bet, what else? Anyway...Kay, you don't think...I'm taking a few personal days because I of course managed to completely botch up the first investigation under my new promotion. I need to clear my head, figure out...I don't want to bother you with my problems if you're busy, but..."

"Come down, John. I'd love to see you."

"Really?"

She didn't hold in her grin this time in response to the eager note in his voice. "Yes, really. It's been too long. I wouldn't mind seeing a familiar face. Even yours."

He said he'd be there before the end of the day tomorrow, and she gave him her new work address if he made it before five o'clock.

"That's a bit of a ways from Baltimore," he said.

"Not as far as New York."

"True. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Looking forward to it," she said before he hung up.

Kay sunk back into bed, putting aside her book but suddenly wide awake. It had been ages since she'd last seen John...since she'd seen anyone from the old Homicide unit. Gee's funeral, after they'd all come together once again to try to find his shooter. After that, they had scattered apart, further than before.

For a while the avoidance had been purposeful; merely a mention or thought of one or the other of them brought on too many painful memories, too much loss. But it had been seven years since Gee's death. Maybe enough time had at last passed for old wounds to have finally healed, to not be reopened at the slightest provocation.

Kay knew she would find out one way or another come tomorrow.

"Anything else you need me for tonight, Captain?"

"Nah, Lou," Kay dismissed her lieutenant. "Get out of here and enjoy the weekend before trouble comes looking for us."

"You do the same," the man said with a smile. It was only four-thirty but on a Friday everyone at the Talbot County Sheriff's Office was itching to get out of work as soon as possible. If they were lucky, no one would start so rowdy a celebration tonight that they'd get called in to break up a bar brawl or DV. The easy weather of Autumn had started to arrive, cooling off heated Summer temperaments at the same time.

The police headquarters in Easton were a long, long way from downtown Baltimore, but it was the close enough to where Kay had grown up on Tilghman Island...and where she now called home once again.

Most of the problems she dealt with these days involved little more than drunken brawls between the few remaining oystermen scraping out a living in the bay, the occasional petty thefts, and reckless driving by bored teenagers or the well-to-do tourists who treated these open roads like raceways.

Years before she would have found it impossibly dull and tedious. Today the familiarity and ease of it all was an odd comfort in a life that had seen too many upheavals already.

She'd been especially glad for the calmness today as her mind had been preoccupied by thoughts of her expected visitor...who just then seemed to be pulling in to the department parking lot, judging by the sound of car tires crunching over the gravel outside. A few minutes later and she heard an unmistakable, familiar voice talking to the office receptionist and she got to her feet, instinctively fussing with her hair before going to open the door.

She knew it had been seven years, but it was still a surprise to see John now. His hair, trimmed short and neat, was completely silver instead of dusted with grey. Large glasses had been replaced by narrow tinted lenses. The nerdish Baltimore Munchkin had been somehow replaced by a stylish, sophisticated John Munch in black jeans and and charcoal turtleneck, the very epitome of what Kay would associate with a certain "New York cool" that had no place here in the Maryland lowlands.

Yet somehow, she thought, it suited him perfectly.

He caught her eye and then pushed past the timid receptionist. "Captain Howard," he said, standing straight, thin lips curling into a smile.

"Sergeant," she replied in similar stiff tone, then erupted into laughter as he pulled her into a reckless hug so tight it threatened to suffocate.

Stepping back he looked at her with an open, warm intensity that made her nearly blush. "You haven't changed one bit, Kay."

"Yeah, right. And look at you...what's the matter, don't they feed you in New York?" she retorted. He'd always been on the skinny side, but now it seemed like his clothes barely hung upon his lean frame.

"Nothing like home, or out here on the shore. Please please please tell me it's not too late in the season for blue crabs," John begged, and the wistful note in his voice immediately took her back to old times.

"Are you kidding? Now's the prime season for 'em. Let me close up shop here and we can hit the Bait Box tonight for crabs 'n oysters if you want. Best place in the county and they damn well will have some saved for me no matter how late we get there." In fact she'd called ahead to make sure they would, and no one wanted to disappoint Captain Howard when she called ahead with a reservation.

"Stop before I drool all over you."

"Save it for later," she said, pushing him off with the palm of her hand. He lifted his arms in surrender and she made quick work of settling up the office affairs for the day, hoping that she could enjoy the quiet weekend ahead with John for company.

It was still a half-hour's drive out to the island from Easton, John following behind Kay in his car as the sun dropped low over the bay. The quiet ride along the single-land roads always relaxed Kay at the end of the day, gave her a few minutes to think and drink in the natural, familiar beauty of the area.

Despite the early evening hour, the Bait Box was already looking packed. But it was a Friday night, and this was one of only a handful of establishments in the entire area that served more than beer, hot dogs and hard liquor.

"A city slicker like me gonna be able to walk into this joint without causing a scene?" John asked after he parked and walked over to join Kay.

"So long as you keep your big mouth shut about the environment, the economy and for the love of God anything that could be construed as 'liberal' politics."

"I'll shut up and eat my crabs."

"Good boy."

Kay knew she'd be the one at the center of all the island gossip for the next month, showing up for the night with a strange man for company. But let them talk, she thought with amusement. Already a few eyes were on them as they grabbed a picnic table outside under the year-round Christmas lights and ordered a pitcher of beer. It would be better than the usual rumors about her being gay because she turned down most of the local men's advances, or having some kind of affair going on with her old high school sweetheart, Chick.

The menu options were limited but John declared them divine. The weather was still warm enough to enjoy being outdoors without sweat drenching every inch of their skin. With a roll of paper towels dropped on their table over scattered newspapers, an empty bucket and a full arsenal of tools on hand, Kay felt a soothing sense of familiarity sitting there with John, cracking shells and sucking out crab meat while discussing matters of days past and present.

"You actually managed to keep a partner for seven years?" That was perhaps the most surprising bit of news to Kay, more so than John's promotion or the crazy case he'd had to deal with during his first week as sergeant.

"I know. It's a world record in Munchland. And we'd still be partners if I hadn't taken the damned exam." John slammed his mallet with more force than necessary into a claw. "I hate sitting there watching my partner—my partner—work with this sniveling too-good-at-everything-so-it-makes-you-sick-little-suck-up from Brooklyn."

"Go on and tell me how you really feel about him."

"I don't like being a supervisor," John ranted on. "I miss being out in the field every day."

"So why'd you even take the exam? I don't believe it was on a bet. Just like I never believed you skipped out on taking it years ago because you couldn't wear your lucky socks."

He looked at her over the rim of his glasses. "Am I so transparent to you, my dearest Kay?"

"Always." Admittedly she hadn't quite figured it out right away, years before. But in time it had been all too apparent. He'd said he would take it because he knew it would encourage her on, give her the easy competitive goal of beating him.

But she let the matter drop and he continued, "I guess I figured it was time. Not getting any younger, and a higher rank would mean a better pension when they force my ass off the job in another seven years or so."

"You gonna stick it out that long?"

"I think so. It's good work. Somehow...it feels more important than being murder police ever did. Because a lot days we're trying to help still living victims get closure and move on with their lives. Abused kids, women who've been through Hell...we can't help them all but it means something to try."

She nodded in understanding. He'd told her on past phone calls about some of those cases, ones he couldn't get out of his head until he talked through them to somebody. She could see that the work had changed him, in a way, in maybe good ways that had worn off the cocky edges of being Homicide. But she hoped they didn't haunt him too much. There were things all of them had seen on the job that no one really ever needed to see in their lifetimes.

"So how did you end up out here, anyway?" he asked, changing the subject while plucking another steamed blue off their plate.

Kay shrugged as she picked over her own hardback shell. "Family stuff became a mess for me, a few years back. My sister's cancer came back..."

"Carrie?"

"Yeah."

"I'm sorry."

"All the boys were. Though none of them came around when she was wasting away to nothing." Kay tried not to dwell on those final days when she had practically been her sister's only caregiver. "Not long after that, my dad's health took a turn for the worse. Needed someone to stay with him full time, you know? My brother had enough on his hands with his family, so that left things to me." Her father was gone now as well, almost a year in the ground next to Kay's mother. Another heartache only beginning to heal over. "And just...nothing in Baltimore was every really the same, not after they first broke us all up. And then Gee..." She couldn't finish saying it.

John simply nodded and said, "I know."

"Yeah. Seemed like you had the right idea, getting out of there and starting over somewhere else. Only for me it was coming home to where I grew up, where I realized I still belonged. Christ, anytime I'd been home for more than a day or two before, the local sheriff was always trying to get me involved in some case he had out here. Not like this is some kind of hot bed of criminal activity, but these days? I'll take what I can get." She took a sip of her beer and looked around. "Funny, isn't it? When I was a kid all I wanted was to get away from here, move to the big city and prove myself. Then there I was, comin' up on fifty and all I wanted was to come home. Is that weird?"

"Not at all. Sometimes I wonder myself...don't get me wrong, I love New York. But there are days I miss being closer to family...old friends. At least the ones who are still standing." He poured them both out another plastic cup of beer and raised his skyward. "For Gee."

"And Beau," Kay added, moisture suddenly threatening to well up in her eyes.

"And Crosetti...and Tim."

She nodded instead of speaking to keep the tears under control, tipping her cup and then swallowing down before the sense of loss could become overwhelming. So many had been claimed by the job, the city, and their own demons. It filled her with sorrow even as it made her more grateful still that John was there with her tonight.

That somehow, against the odds, they had been the ones to survive.

"You sure it's all right for me to stay here?"

"John, please. This house is big enough for the two of us for a night or two." It's too big for just me, most nights, she thought, but didn't say aloud. "'Sides, the only motel around here is a fleabag dump ten miles away I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

"What about Barnfather? Or Gaffney?"

"All right, for those two I'd make an exception."

He shouldered a light duffle bag inside, and she showed him the way to what had been her brother's room. It was getting late, but not that late into the evening, so she offered, "You up for a nightcap, or did the drive wear you out?"

"It wasn't that long of a drive. But believe it or not, I could actually go for a cup of tea more than anything else."

"John Munch a tea drinker, that's new," she said with a teasing smirk. "But I can put some water on."

"Thanks. I'll be down in a few, once I wash the crab juice off my hands."

Kay went to the kitchen to put on a kettle. It felt good to have someone in the house, someone to fuss over a bit even if it was just pulling out her mother's old tea set, and earlier making sure there were clean sheets on the bed. Her brother and his family came by, every so often, but that was always a chaotic Saturday or Sunday that left her drained instead of relaxed for the week ahead.

Some days she wondered if this was really meant to be her life, now: living alone in the big old house, with only the ghosts of her family for company on most nights. Anything more than that seemed almost more trouble than it was worth, although she occasionally craved and missed the physical comforts of another.

She'd never really been good at the rest of the relationship equation.

"Earl Grey or Sleepytime, your choice," she said as she brought out the tea tray a few minutes later. John was over by the stereo and record player, thumbing through the lp sleeves on the nearby shelf.

"Earl Grey for me. These are some great albums."

"My dad's old records, mostly. He used to like to listen to music at the end of the day, when he came off the boat and was waiting for dinner; said it was more relaxing than putting on the tv and hearing all the lousy news from all over the world."

"Your dad was a smart man."

"Pick out something," Kay suggested. "I think that thing still works." She set down the tea tray and took a seat on the sofa while John studied the musical options, eventually slipping one record out of its sleeve and onto the old turntable.

Soon after the crackle and hiss of the lp faded into gentle strings and the soothing voice of Frank Sinatra, singing of the wee small hours of the morning. Kay had to smile and chuckle a little at the memory that immediately sprang to the forefront of her mind.

"What, bad choice?" John asked as he walked over to join her.

"Nothing, just...ah, good old Frankie. I remember my mom coming out of the kitchen whenever dad would put Sinatra on, her and pop dancing in the living room." Her heart ached a little at the memory, the spirit of them both suddenly so close.

John's hand, offered before her, shook her out of the momentary reverie. She looked up and he didn't have to speak the request; she grinned and got to her feet, taking his hand in her own. His other hand slipped gently to her shoulder and after a few awkward steps they fell into rhythm, moving to the gentle, slow sway of the music.

They didn't talk, didn't need to in that moment. Kay found her thoughts drifting to an afternoon years before, the two of them alone at the Waterfront. It was the last time—the only other time—she had danced with John like this. Ironically it had been right after she had earned her sergeant's badge and John had let her drown her sorrows. And then he had finally made her smile again.

That afternoon they had danced and laughed, but nothing more. She hadn't allowed herself to think of anything more than that, it wouldn't have been proper. She wasn't interested in John anyway, not that way. Not the Munchkin. At least she had always told herself that.

Now it felt different to be held lightly in his arms, when so much had changed since then. And yet, as before, he followed her every step instead of expecting or forcing the other way around. The realization brought a smile and another small chuckle to her throat.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You. Still letting me lead."

"I always have, Kay."

And she knew that was true.

One song ended, began to transition into the next. The rhythm became slower, more melancholy, and she leaned in to rest her head against his shoulder, sighing softly. The comfort of his presence almost was overwhelming. She felt his hand moving to caress her hair and closed her eyes, falling into the closeness of the moment and wishing she could lose herself to it.

She did, for a time, until the music faded to another quiet pause. Glancing up, she looked into John's eyes and saw everything so clearly that she'd stubbornly denied seeing for so many years. But now, what need was there for that denial?

Kay reached up and gently urged him toward her for a kiss readily granted. And the world briefly stopped—the music, the dance, the past all forgotten. The only thing that mattered was there in this moment.

She pulled back, suddenly self-conscious as she tasted the minty coolness of his lips. "I must taste like cheap beer and Old Bay," she realized with a nervous laugh, wishing she'd thought to brush her teeth.

John shook his head and gave her another one of his warm and easy smiles. "You taste like Heaven to me." He took the initiative to prove his point, kissing her not so gently this time and making her suddenly not give a damn about anything else.

Admit it, Howard. You always wanted to know why he constantly had a line-up of women eager to marry him. And she was beginning to get her answer from the way his kisses made her feel.

But kisses weren't all she hungered for now, not with his hands in her hair and the heat of his body so close. "You want to take this to the bedroom?" she asked, licking lips already feeling swollen. "Your tea's gonna get cold, but..."

"I'd rather taste you," he said, cupping her face and kissing her lips again, then brushing against her cheek, whispering in her ear, "All of you."

That was enough to nearly make her knees give out. But she shook it off to pull back and grab his hand, urging him to follow her up the stairs. The music played on, all but forgotten and eventually the crackles and hiss of the end of the record were drowned out by easy laughter and sighs from above.

Kay stirred, the morning light an unwelcome intrusion into her bedroom. She turned away from the light to snuggle in closer against John.

John.

She blinked, glancing over to see his sleeping face beside hers in bed, then closed her eyes to bask in the comfort of his nearness. Some morning-afters could be awkward, embarrassing. This one felt...right.

She could still taste him on her lips...could still feel him, moving with her, inside her, leaving her body dully aching now in the most pleasant of ways. She hungered already to feel that way again, found her hands slowly moving over his skin until she could sense him beginning to awaken and respond to her touch.

His eyes soon fluttered open and she had to smile at the warm and affectionate way he took in the sight of her.

"Morning," he said.

"Morning."

"I'd kiss you but I probably have horrible morning breath."

"So do I," Kay said, moving in for a lazy kiss no matter what. "I think we cancel each other out."

John grinned and pulled her closer, this second kiss lingering longer. If they ended up spending the rest of this day in bed, that would be perfectly fine with her. Maybe the rest of this entire weekend while they were at it. He was a giving and unselfish lover—and one who clearly enjoyed it when she took control and showed him how she liked it.

Like right now, when she guided his hand to her sex, and made it clear she was eager and ready to have him once again.

Morning sex always had an indulgent quality to it Kay enjoyed...that sense of forfeiting responsibilities to stay in bed and put pleasure and desire first. One also never had morning sex with someone you regretted taking to bed in the first place the night before, so in a way it became an affirmation of true appetites and attraction.

Kay had no regrets about taking John to bed with her last night. If she did regret anything, it was only that it had taken so long for it to happen.

Her climax came quickly, so strong was her need for him today, her body pulsing and throbbing with release and soon bringing John along with her. In a tangle of bed sheets and limbs, he enveloped her, kissing and licking at skin grown damp with sweat.

"I could get used to waking up to this," she said, almost purring.

"You trying to encourage me to give it all up and become an oysterman?"

"Nah, there's no money in that these days. You could come be my second in command. I could use someone in the sheriff's office with a little higher IQ than the rest of my staff."

He raised his head to study her seriously for a moment, and then said, "We would kill each other in less than a month."

"You're probably right."

It was only idle chatter, anyway. She knew he wasn't ready to give it all up, not yet, not for her. She didn't want him to, even if he genuinely thought he wanted it. This was...for right now, this was enough. It was already more than she could have hoped for.

A few quiet minutes passed luxuriating in the pleasant afterglow. Then she became aware of his fingers running tenderly against the still hard ridge of scar tissue over her breast bone. It had long made her self-conscious in a way she never thought she was vain enough to care about. But she could see in his eyes that he was thinking of the past, that day, not looking at it as a mere physical imperfection. "I'll never forget...I thought I'd lost you. All three of you, but, you, especially."

"I barely remember any of it." Which was the truth. She hardly had a recollection of entering the building, that afternoon. A few scattered thoughts of drifting in and out of consciousness in the hospital, of her father being there. Of Beau.

Poor Beau.

"That's probably a good thing."

"Mmm," she agreed absently, and then drew in her breath in a small gasp as he leaned in to kiss the scar. He hovered over it, a moment longer, then looked up with a lopsided grin. "I finally took a bullet myself a couple years ago. Wanna guess where? In the ass."

She had to laugh. "Of course. But don't you dare think I'm gonna kiss it."

"Funny. I asked my partner to do that, when it happened, and he gave me the same look you're giving me."

"Your partner, huh?" she raised a teasing eyebrow at him, a gesture she'd long ago picked up from the master of the eyebrow raise—who now looked at her with denial.

"Not like that. He'd kick my ass instead of kiss it if I ever suggested as much." He laid down beside her and stretched, then asked, "So what needs doing today?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"Good."

"You feel like breakfast?"

"Maybe in a bit. I'm in no rush. I'm on vacation. And I'm Sergeant Munch now, so they can all go fuck themselves if anyone does come calling."

"That's the spirit." She curled up against him, feeling drowsy and more ready for a morning nap than anything else. Maybe she'd turn her phone off completely for the next two days. She deserved a weekend without interruption or distraction herself, save for the wonderful distraction of making love to John in as many ways and as many times as possible.

Monday morning arrived far too soon, Kay thought, yet life eventually had to go on and return to a normal state of affairs. She had risen early to take a shower and put on breakfast—and to avoid the temptation of lingering in bed with John for another few blissful hours.

When he came downstairs she was finishing up some eggs and bacon for the two of them. He had his duffel bag packed and was clearly dressed for the road himself, just as she was ready for work. "Heading home?" she asked.

"Yes and no," he replied, helping himself to a cup of coffee before sitting down at the kitchen table. "I would never hear the end of it from my mother if I came through Maryland without stopping in for a visit. Bernie keeps telling me he thinks we need to talk to her about moving in to a retirement home soon, so...I figure I'd better spend some time with her to see for myself."

"It's important to be with our parents when we can."

"Yep. And I don't see my mother nearly enough, which I'm sure I'll hear over and over again for the next two days. I told my captain I'll be good to work on Wednesday. After seeing my mother I'll surely be ready for a different kind of Hell."

They made small talk over breakfast, until Kay noticed the hour and realized she really needed to get going. "Dump the plates in the sink, I'll deal with them tonight."

He followed her out of the house, to the driveway where both their cars were parked. He dropped his bag in the passenger seat of his car and turned to where she waited, suddenly hating this. Goodbyes were always awkward even when inevitable.

John pulled Kay against him for a long hug, a kiss to the top of her head. "I'll call you when I do get back to New York, let you know how things are going."

"You do that. And don't let it be another seven years before I see you again."

"Not on my life." He leaned down for one last, long kiss, the kind that would leave a lingering impression in her mind, enough to sustain her until the next time they met. She could see a thought, an emotion, a few certain words on the tip of his tongue when he finally pulled back, but she was relieved when he didn't speak them. She wasn't ready for them yet; maybe next time.

If there would be a next time, and then she might be able to give those feelings to him in return.

Instead he told her, "You should come up to New York for the holidays. It's pretty, all the lights, ice skating in Rockefeller Center..."

"Sounds nice."

"It'd be better than nice if you're there to share it with me."

"We'll talk later, John."

"We will. Bye, Kay." One more quick kiss and then he was off, his car rumbling off and kicking up dust and sand behind him.

She watched him leave, then shook it off so she could get moving and on the road to work herself. Most mornings she drove in to work in silence, leaving the radio off to quietly compose her thoughts for the day ahead. Today she turned on the dial and found herself humming along to the music, an old familiar Beatles song telling her it's been a long cold lonely winter.

It had been, but maybe now it really was all right.