Title: Timing in Life is Everything, Chapter 4
Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: Homicide: Life on the Street & L&O: SVU; Munch/OFC
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf or the creators of H:LOTS. Sadly, I don't own them and I won't make a dime off of taking them out to play
Summary: Destiny has its own agenda… its own time. Begins during H:LOTS and continues into L a Munch-centric romance that explains his transition from Baltimore frump to NYC cool.
Timing in Life is Everything, Ch 4
--
Apartment of John Munch, Hudson Heights Neighborhood, New York City, October 15, 2003
John's craggy features still bore faint traces of a smile as he closed the door to his apartment behind him. Liv had been at her most persistent that day, determined to fix him up with a friend of hers. He had seen the lady in question and, had things been different, he would have jumped at the chance. His refusal had baffled his partners and he knew it had probably added to their growing worry he had given up on life.
The truth of the matter, as was often the case, was far too complicated for him to easily explain. Since the day he had come home to find a reply from Grace to his email, he had spent most of his nights 'instant messaging' with her until the late hour drove her to bed. They had even splurged on a couple of long phone calls, carefully spaced over the last six months like a store of the best chocolates… something to be savored and enjoyed.
John was sure his partners would find it strange, it not alarming, to know he had begun a long-distance relationship… of sorts, with a woman over fifteen years his junior that lived in Europe and who had been one of their victims. Their odd history wasn't something he wanted to try and explain to anyone. Most of the time, it didn't make much sense to him and he had lived it.
What he did know was he was enjoying the opportunity to get to know her by the novel use, at least for him, of an email courtship. They had been able to discuss issues that really mattered to them, expressing opinions with the candor that only the written word allowed. They didn't have to pull punches because they were reacting to a facial expression or a tone of voice. They had promised to be completely honest with each other and that had ensured that they had gotten to know each other on deeper levels than either had ever known with anyone else.
The internet allowed them to debate a wide, often wild, range of topics with ease… if one of them demanded proof of a point, the other spent a few minutes finding it on the net and added the link to the next message. John was secretly pleased that he had turned her into a fellow conspiracy enthusiast. They both agreed that the term 'nut' wasn't fair and had been first applied by those either scared or challenged by the theories discussed.
It had come as something of a surprise how much of their daily lives they had begun to share. He told her about cases… up to a point and discussed his colleagues with affectionate honesty. She told him about her plans for the new design house she and her partner had started… she was the design talent and he had the head for business. Getting a new line established was a monumental undertaking and she was working fourteen and fifteen hour days. Ten years of building a rep as a designer for other labels had put her into the position to break out on her own, but she was paying the price in the hours the endeavor demanded.
He still didn't know all that much about high fashion, but he did know his wardrobe had changed for the better in recent months. John had always wanted a distinctive style… like his boyhood ideal Johnny Staccato. He had found a DVD of the show, pleased to reconnect to his first role model. A copy of the DVD had traveled across the Atlantic to Grace and she had been inspired.
Staccato wore black suits, listened to jazz, and had a string of beautiful women hanging on his arm. John already loved jazz and Grace was the only beautiful woman he wanted… but black seemed to be the obvious choice for his new style. Grace had seemed to enjoy designing him a look and had even directed him to a tailor to make the suits… had found him great material at cost. He had enjoyed his 'redefinition' as much as she had. A men's ware line for her new house, with his new duds as the prototypes, had been the result.
Gone were the white dress shirts that had once been the staple of his Baltimore work wear… the ones with the short-sleeves had been the first to go. Cotton, wool, linen… natural fibers had pushed out the man-made blends in his closet. He now sported tailored suits in dark colors, trendy dress shirts in matching hues, and a pair of dark glasses that allowed him to hide his eyes from casual observation. They added to the mystic he now exuded. He knew he had never looked better and he owed it to Grace… Grace and her fashionista friends.
Tossing his coat onto the back of the couch, he flicked on his computer before shrugging off his jacket. It joined his coat. His silk tie… this one hand sown by Grace as a birthday gift, completed the pile. He would sort them out later once he had checked to see if he had any messages. Priorities were, after all, priorities. It was already early morning in Paris and Grace did need to sleep sometime.
Walking into the kitchen, he pulled a couple of cartons of leftover Chinese out of the frig and dumped them onto a plate to microwave. Grabbing a beer, he wandered back to his laptop and took a seat before the small screen. Yahoo's IM login had barely cleared when his first message popped up.
Grace: I thought you'd never get home tonight! Major disaster today! The special order silk for the spring collection came in this a.m. and half if it was ruined. Some idiot spilled something corrosive on the package!
John sighed, sharing her frustration. He knew how important the spring show was for her new company and the silk she had ordered was for several of her most important pieces. On a selfish note, he knew she was committed to living in Paris for a long as it took to get the house established. Once the line was up and running, she could split her time between there and New York. Until then, his courting would be limited to the virtual world… and he was ready for a little real world application.
John: Damn! Can they get you a replacement in time?
Grace: I spent all afternoon with the shipping company… bastard I spoke to first tried to put me off and avoid the claim, but I'll be damned if I let that happen! We have big tied up in that shipment!
John: So… you set him straight?
Grace: WEG!! No, but his boss did!
John: LOL. Can you get a new shipment in time?
Grace: Dramatic sigh!! Just… but here's the problem. I've been planning a surprise trip to NYC for Christmas/New Years. New shipment won't arrive until then. I can't leave until I see it and know it's the right stuff.
/Damn! She was coming home and…/
John: Damn!! I understand, but it would have been nice having you here.
Grace: Glad you feel that way. Up for an alternative plan?
John: Lecherous grin Lay it on me baby.
Grace: Lay what on you, Det.?? flutters eyelashes
John: I have several suggestions, but let's hear your plan and I'll adapt.
Grace: Oooh, a man of action!! Got to love that!
John: The plan… expectantly watching screen
Grace: I emailed a travel agent friend to cancel my flight/travel. She wrote back… can get me a partial refund and apply it to a ticket from JFK to Paris for 12/20 to1/4. It's soooo cheap… only 29 more than what I have already paid, so only 239. I'll loose the rest anyway unless we can work this out. Can you come to Paris for a visit? You can crash here, so no hotel.
John felt his heartbeat kick into overdrive. Fly to Paris for the holidays! Spend the holidays in Paris… with Grace!! And it would only cost him 240 for a ticket!
John: Hell yes, I can come! Or I can if Cragen approves letting me have the time off! I'm due a vacation and I have the hours! Give me your friend's email address and I'll book the flight!
John frowned as a quick response failed to come back to his last message.
John: Grace? You still there?
Grace: HUGE happy grin You're booked. I IM'ed my friend as soon as you said yes! Confirmation is back and it's a go! YEAH!!
John: Really?? That was too easy!
Grace: Got to love it when a plan comes together! Do you have a current passport?
John: No, but I can do that this week! Send me the info…
--
Roissy-Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris, December 20, 2003
Grace had arrived at the airport well in advance of the time John's plane was due to land. She wanted to freshen-up just before he arrived. She knew it wasn't really necessary… was perhaps a bit silly, but the attack earlier in the year had resurrected old feelings of inadequacy… of being damaged and unclean. She had grappled with similar emotions after the first time Tad had raped her. The second time had proving just as hard to comprehend and accept.
John had helped reassure her… told her it was natural for rape survivors to experience a wide range of emotions after an attack. He had gotten her to admit how she was feeling… had urged her to get counseling to help her cope. Those sessions had helped her regain some of her confidence, but his steady support mattered more than the clinical, all be it helpful advice of her therapist. Still, their first 'real' meeting meant too much to her to take anything for granted… a final pep talk in front of a mirror had seemed like a good idea.
She was the classic 'white-knuckled flyer', so it was something of a relief that John was the one making the trip. She tended to drive her seatmates crazy with her fidgeting and sighing on a long flight… unless she remembered to get a prescription for Valium from her doctor. She never took drugs if she could avoid them, but she had long since decided a long-flight was not the time to stand on principle.
In any case, Grace wasn't quite ready to go back to New York and face the demons that had caused her to flee to Paris. She knew she was hiding… that it was cowardly, but she simply didn't care. John was coming to see her… understood why she had run and didn't hold it against her. Besides, she had a reprieve from another transatlantic flight and that mattered a lot at this point with an unavoidable flight sometime in the coming year looming on the horizon.
Grace had already received a certified letter from Judy Sherman's lawyer informing her that she would be required to return and testify at the law suit she had filed against Tad's estate. While he would never have to stand before a jury to be held accountable for his crimes, her friend needed the monetary settlement to help defray the costs of her ongoing medical treatment and Judy deserved her support. Tad's family was fighting the suit, clinging to the delusion their son was the wronged, innocent victim of a vindictive harpy (i.e. Grace). The trial promised to get ugly and she was already dreading both it and the flight back to the states.
Her relationship with her parents had been completely destroyed in the weeks that had followed the attack. Some things once said can never be taken back… some betrayals were too profound to be forgiven. Despite the repeated attempts of both her grandparents and her brother, her parents had insisted on blaming her for what had happened… even after Doug had confessed that Tad had told him about the first time he had raped Grace during a drunken night spent out with friends.
Doug and his friends had beaten Tad bloody, but no one had ever told her parents or the police what had provoked the incident. Tad had simply refused to press charges… had actually come off as the good guy for refusing to send his one-time best friend to jail. Until the whole ugly story came out, most people in McLean thought Doug had taken exception to Tad's 'wandering eye for the ladies' while he waited for Grace to get her 'design star' dreams out of her system. The town had been divided over his death… until other girls had begun to come forward with stories of his abusive treatment of them. Only the Dohertys and the Woodsons now thought he was the innocent victim.
She and Doug had spoken several times since then. Her brother's repeated attempts to apologize… his confession he had thought she was safe from the other man as long as she lived far away from McLean had helped ease the strain. He and his family were planning to visit her next summer… bringing their grandparents along for the trip. It had been a blessing to have their support and love even if her parents' behavior cut to the quick.
Sighing, she watched as a huge plane descended from the low-hanging clouds and safely touched down on a distant runway. A quick glance at the arrival-departure display confirmed that John's plane had just landed. Heavy snow had blanketed the Paris metro area since early morning and she had been worried his flight might be diverted.
The time to meet face-to-face had finally arrived. She was nervous… a little panicked if she was being completely honest with herself, but she was also ready. After months of talks and emails, she was certain he was someone she had been waiting to meet her entire life.
--
John shifted the strap of his carryon higher on his shoulder. He had packed with care and the rolling suitcase resting at his side was his only other luggage. The flight had seemed to last forever, but now that he was safely on the ground in Paris, he felt the flock of butterflies that had taken up residence in his stomach that morning flutter into chaotic flight.
Needing a distraction from his nervous energy, he let his thoughts return to the gossip that had sprung to life once word he had asked for a fifteen day leave over the Christmas holidays began to make the rounds of the precinct… and beyond. The personnel he routinely worked with at the ME's, TARU, and CSU had been almost as curious as his immediate coworkers.
His partner, Fin Tutuola, had nearly driven him up the wall demanding to know where he was going… and with whom. Cragen had threatened to withhold his approval until he told all. Stabler, Cabot, and Huang had spent their time trying to guess his plans… guesses that grew progressively wilder as the weeks passed. Liv… well, Liv had been the most fun to watch. She had tried every tactic in her arsenal to get him to talk, all to no avail. He had kept Grace amused with periodic updates on the 'Munch Conspiracy' as Fin called it.
For once, he had chosen to keep silent rather than do a lot of talking. That strategy had paid big dividends as he had spent the last two months stringing his colleagues along and enjoying their frustrated attempts to discover what he was planning. Somehow he had managed to escape their clutches without anyone being the wiser of his plans for the holidays… much to their annoyance!
Setting his carryon on the counter before the French Customs agent, he answered the series of questions the man fired at him. His luggage was searched and cleared after several minutes, freeing him to enter the main part of the airport. Taking a deep breath, he walked into the arrival area. The warmth of her lovely green eyes drove that breath from his lungs as he quickly found her smiling face on the edge of the throng awaiting the crowd deplaning from his flight.
/Damn! She's even more beautiful than I remembered!/
Weaving his way through the crowd, he came to a stop in front of her. They cautiously studied each other at close range for the first time in their acquaintance. John was quick to note that the smile on Grace's lips was a little forced, betraying her nerves. Something about this woman inspired a purely masculine need in him to protect her… to shield her from the capricious wimps of the rest of the world, though he knew better than to say something so chauvinistic out loud.
They hesitated, unsure of what form of greeting suited their unique relationship, before he gave into the demands of his heart. Moving slowly to give her time to back away if she was uncomfortable with his touch, he gently enfolded her in his arms. For a second or two, she remained stiff and unsure, but, before he could withdraw, she sagged against him.
Slim arms twined around his waist and Grace rested her cheek against his chest. Her hold tightened briefly as she settled into his embrace. He felt more than heard the soft sigh of relief and contentment that reassured him that she was as pleased by the way their first meeting had turned out as he was.
--
Grace eased her dark blue Peugeot 307 into an opening in the early evening traffic and carefully accelerated through the intersection. The snow had slowed to a flurry, but the roads were still clogged in places from the heavy accumulation that had built up over the course of the day. The afternoon had faded into twilight and the City had stilled momentarily as it shifted into a snowy Saturday night.
Risking a brief glance his way, Grace found herself smiling at the sight. It was obvious John was drinking in the ancient city with all of his senses as lights began to twinkle and illuminate its skyline. The storm clouds had begun to lift and break apart, allowing the moon and stars to peak through in places. The Eiffel Tower glowed like a beacon in the distance as they crested a rise on the northern outskirts of the City.
Sadly, she hadn't been able to afford a flat in the heart of Paris, but she had been lucky enough to find 'a room with a view' in a lovely section of one of the older parts of the City. That room was the tiny second bedroom she used as a studio. The other rooms had more modest views… the tiny street in front of her building… or the brick wall of the building next-door.
"I made us dinner reservations at a small bistro near my flat," she offered, breaking into the comfortable silence that had settled around them. "I figured you would be exhausted and it has a wonderful selection of basic fare… French comfort food. I would have cooked, but I thought you might enjoy this place for your first night here."
Turning to admire her profile, John grinned. "I'm in Paris in the company of the most beautiful woman I've ever known, so I'm not too hard to please! McDonald's would work under the circumstances."
A mock shudder accompanied, "Don't let my landlady hear you say that! She will complain for an hour about the 'decay of French culture caused by the Americanization of the world' and make it her mission to educate you on the finer points of French cuisine."
Chuckling, John countered, "Sounds like a plan to me. I love good food, so I'm always up for class if I get to eat my lessons."
"Madame David is probably standing at her window watching for us to get back," Grace warned. "She's become very protective of me. I guess having to rush me to the hospital my first week here made her think I need mothering… imagine that?! She's planning to grill you to see if you pass muster, so you might want to get your game face ready."
"Well she feed me while she's giving me the third degree?"
Cutting her eyes in his direction as she stopped at a traffic light, she retorted, "Depends on whether or not you make a good first impression, so pour on the charm and open doors… hold out chairs, that sort of thing. She loves chivalrous men."
"I have to pretend to be a gentleman?"
Laughing, the last of her nerves falling away as the banter of their emails reasserted itself. "Fake it if you have to, but that's the best advice I can give you. You're on your own from there."
--
John paused to admire the breathtaking scene her neighborhood made, the streetlights splashing off the brilliant white of the fresh snow. Tucking Grace's gloved hand a little tighter into the curve of his arm, he smiled down at the woman at his side. /Funny, I never realized how tiny she is/ he mused. The top of Grace's head barely reached his shoulders. /I've always thought of her as being tall and leggy. At least I got the leggy part right!/
"That was an amazing meal," he offered, relaxed and content for the moment. "That was the best bouillabaisse I've ever had… and that bread!"
Eyes twinkling, Grace nodded. "I know. I have to run an extra couple of miles each week to make up for the amount of bread I've been eating since I moved here. Not to mention the pastries!! I have such a sweet tooth its torture!"
A wicked grin accompanied the wolfish twinkle in his eyes. "I haven't noticed any problems with your figure… before or after your arrival in Paris."
The shy smile his comment produced tugged at his heart. "You're just being nice. I was so big when I got out of college that first time you saw me!"
Rolling his eyes, John countered, "You had curves in all the right places… I was afraid a couple of my partners were going to make pests of themselves. You caused quite a stir that day."
"No one noticed me but you," she argued. "I thought about that day so many times. I wished…"
Squeezing her hand, he pressed, "You wished what?"
Peeking up at him through the fringe of her bangs, she admitted, "I wished we hadn't just been passing through Baltimore… that you had come over."
Sighing, he offered, "I thought about it, but I heard you talking about the move to New York. Besides, I was in an on-again-off-again relationship at the time… more off than on, but still, Felecia deserved better than me hitting on other women behind her back."
Grinning, she teased, "You didn't look too committed to me."
Laughing, he agreed. "I wasn't committed, but we had agreed to be exclusive."
Tilting her head, Grace pondered, "How can you be exclusive but not committed?"
"OK, we weren't capital letters committed," he hedged. "We both knew it wasn't going to last much longer at that point. She wanted things I couldn't offer and… she wasn't the woman I needed either."
"This conversation is getting pretty serious," Grace observed, itching to ask the next logical question.
John smiled. "Yeah, it is. Go ahead… ask."
"What?"
"The question burning the tip of your tongue… what I need in a woman," he offered, cutting to the chase. "I'll make it easy on you and confess. I've finally realized I need a woman that stimulates me mentally as much as physically… maybe more so. It took me a long time to understand that."
"Oh."
Pulling her to a stop, he urged her around to face him. "I've enjoyed getting to know you over the internet, Grace. I think you're beautiful, but I happen to like and respect you as a person. I'm hoping you give me the chance to convince you to we've got something special here. OK?"
Her shy smile turned radiant. "I'd like that, John… more than like it."
He had first fallen under the thrall of her vivid green eyes in a rundown seafood shack in Baltimore. Ten years later, on a snowy winter night in December, he fell into them again… this time in Paris. /Actually, I'm not sure I ever managed to crawl out of them since that first day./
Holding her gaze, he slowly bent his head and captured her lips in their first kiss. An indulgently smiling crowd quietly walked around the oblivious pair. Some exchanged fond smiles of remembrance with their partners… others felt a ripple of longing to experience the same moment of total connection… the rest were simply amused, but this was Paris… this was love.
--
7/20/08
A/N -- I'm still toying with the idea of writing a few more chapters for this story… more likely a short sequel or two. For now, assume John is enjoying keeping his friends and colleagues in the dark about his new lady. Munch, John Munch… international man of mystery… or is that Man in Black? Maybe the Dark Knight??
Anyway, thanks for reading. I'd love to hear some feedback and if anybody want more of this pairing.
S