Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 9
Author:
Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E
Rating: M, for
language and references to violence; some adult situations
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf.
Sigh!
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda,
yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle"
so Spoiler warnings if you've not see that episode
Making a Connection, Chapter 9
John slipped his arm around Arwen's waist as they began the walk back to her apartment. After drinking their coffee, George and John had remained at his place to talk through their most recent case and John's reactions while Fin had escorted Arwen to her apartment so that she could change her clothes. The group had then gone for a late lunch at a nearby restaurant. The mood at the table had been somewhat subdued.
That the talk between the two men had been difficult was clear to the other two the moment they saw them. John was restless and distracted, loosing the thread of their conversation and picking at his meal. Huang's cryptic parting comment outside the restaurant, "Be honest with her, John," had only made him more withdrawn.
"I like Fin. He has a wicked sense of humor," she offered, hoping to draw John back to her.
"Humm…"
Sighing, she tried again. "George seems sweet, but he doesn't miss a thing does he?"
"No."
Deciding the direct approach was her best option, she asked, "Be honest with me about what, John?"
Coming to an abrupt stop, he stared down into Arwen's worried grey eyes. "I… I need to tell you about my Uncle Andrew… my dad."
Rubbing his back, Arwen nodded. "OK. I had been wondering what you meant this morning when you mentioned him, but figured you'd tell me when you were ready. Andrew's you father's brother?"
"Yeah, his younger brother. Can we go for a walk in the park?" he asked, needing to delay their talk for a few more minutes. "I think I need to be outside for a while."
Tightening her hold on his waist, she agreed. "Sure… sounds like a good idea for us both."
Finding a bench near a small fountain on the far side of their neighborhood park, John urged Arwen to sit. Settling at her side, he was silent for several minutes. With a deep sigh, he began, "My uncle is in a psychiatric hospital, Arwen. He killed a man last year… pushed him under a train during a psychotic break caused by antidepressants."
Turning to him, she wrapped her arms around his waist. "I'm so sorry, John. That must have been horrible for both of you."
"Yeah, it was." Hugging her close for a moment to steady himself, he continued. "When my father killed himself… he was in a depression, only that wasn't something that was understood very well forty years ago. There weren't any treatments that I know about then. His brain chemistry got out of balance and… he killed himself."
"Uncle Andrew tried to step in and be a father to me and Bernie. Mom didn't like his wife, so she made that difficult. Naturally, her displeasure encouraged me to spend a lot of time at their house. Bernie didn't because it would have upset Mother and Bernie never did that," he remembered.
Staring across the open expanse of the park, he continued. "Andrew and I remained close over the years… I visited them regularly while I still lived in Baltimore. Not long after I moved here, he and my aunt retired to Florida. She died a few years later and he moved into an independent living building. I called… visited a few times, but he was alone too much. They didn't have any children. I guess I was the closet thing they had to a son."
"Anyway, he fell into a depression and the depression fed a form of dementia. At some point, Andrew left Florida and came here to visit me, but he was already in trouble by that point… was loosing touch with reality," John offered, his guilt at not realizing his uncle's state of mind obvious. "Four months later, Elliot found him living in a cardboard box in a city park. Elliot didn't know who he was… brought him in for questioning on a case he and another detective were investigating. I saw him in the holding cell. It was the first time I realized…"
Staring off into space, he admitted, "I didn't know he was missing; I was busy and hadn't called in months. Anyway, Andrew didn't know who he was… me… how he had gotten here. Elliot had found a number of newspaper clippings about sex crimes on the side of the box he was using as a shelter. That was part of the reason they brought him in. Huang told me that was Andrew's way of trying to find me… he remembered on some level I worked with SVU."
Knowing he needed to work his way though the feelings of guilt and worry that were torturing him, Arwen remained quiet. Shifting a little closer, she rested her head against his shoulder hoping he would feel the comfort she was silently offering. John needed to face his fears directly and she had to let him set the pace of his confession.
"Once I found him, I got him treatment. George tested him and found it wasn't Alzheimer's as an ER doctor first told me, but something called pseudo dementia of depression. There are a lot of different types of antidepressants out there. It's kind of scary to say this, but they don't really know how or why they work. The doctors warned me it would be trial and error until they found the right one… or combination," he whispered, after several fraught minutes of silence. "I was pretty optimist when the first one seemed to do the trick, but… he experienced a rare, but serious side-effect. It caused him to have that psychotic break."
Falling silent again as he tried to make sense of the chain of events that followed, John finally murmured, "He killed a man we suspected of raping and killing a little girl that had befriended him while he was on the street. He overheard a comment made by someone in our office and, in his delusional state, thought that was what we were all planning to do… kill the bastard before he could hurt anyone else. I failed to recognize what was happening until it was too late."
Sighing, he concluded, "Once they got him off the antidepressant, he realized what he had done and… The guilt was too much for him; he refused to allow further treatment. He said goodbye to me and disappeared into his own mind. I go to see him, but…"
He fell silent, unable to continue. He glanced over at her hoping she would understand what was consuming him. Unable to hold her gaze, he looked away. After a moment, he let his head rest against the top of hers.
"And you think you're destined to develop the same problems that crippled your father and uncle? You think you need to end things with me because you don't want to burden me with the need to care for you when, not if, that happens?" she asked after a moment, a big part of the mystery that was John Munch snapping into place.
Relieved, yet terrified that she had understood, a gruff, "Yes," was whispered against her hair.
"And the doctors have told you that your having these problems is a certainty?"
Frowning, he shook his head. "No, but the odds…"
"What are the odds, John? Do you even know?" she demanded.
"Well, no, but…"
"OK, that's the first question we need to get answered. Why are you already convinced this is your fate? Does Bernie feel the same way?" she pressed.
"No; Bernie and I have very different personalities. He's more like our mother. Bernie isn't moody like me…"
"Was Andrew like your father?"
Pulling away enough to look down into her determined expression, John was amazed to see no revulsion or panic in her eyes. "Arwen, this is serious…"
Reaching up to cup his face, she soothed, "I know that, baby. This isn't scaring me off, so stop worrying that it will and let's sort this out rationally. That's the hazard of being involved with an economist… I approach problems analytically. I have to break it down and understand the parts before I can discuss a plan."
"So, you think you can formulate a plan to make this problem go away?" he asked, unsure if he was angry or amused by her response.
"Of course not! You're the only one that can decide how you want to deal with this, but, like I said this morning, we're in this together and you are not alone, John." Pulling his head down for a quick kiss, she insisted, "Has it ever occurred to you that you're just moody by nature… or as a result of the forces that shaped your personality? Moody… depressed isn't the same as being in a depression. You may be predisposed to depression or you may just be grumpy. You need to let a doctor make that diagnosis. Many factors can contribute to depression and we both need to understand what symptoms to be on the lookout for."
"Frankly, I'm more concerned for Bernie than I am for you, love. You're aware that you may have a problem, so we can be prepared to get you help if you ever need it." Holding his gaze, she pointed out, "From what you've told me about your uncle, he didn't display any signs of his problem until after his wife died and he was alone too much of the time. No one knew to be watching him for signs. We won't let that happen to you! You need to make sure it doesn't happen to your brother either."
Stunned, he admitted, "I hadn't thought about that. I guess I need to have a talk with him and his wife."
"Yeah, you do, but can I suggest you talk to your doctor first and let him evaluate your situation objectively?" A gentle teasing tone softened her voice as she asked, "My mother had high cholesterol and high blood pressure. My dad has diabetes. I'm probably predisposed to all three. If I do get one or all, there are a host of medical problems they can produce. I'm already trying to prevent them by watching my diet and exercising regularly. Some day I may have to add meds to the mix. Are you going to break up with me because I could get sick?"
"Is that the same as my ending up like Dad and Andrew?"
"On a certain level, yes, it is. Depression is a medical condition caused by an imbalance in the brain's chemistry. You know that. The big difference is that depression carries a stigma. It's nothing to be ashamed of, John. It's a medical condition, not a sign of weakness," she asserted. "IF it becomes a problem, we'll make sure you get the treatment you need the same as we will about my health risks. You're not alone. I'm not alone. That's one of the few assurances either of us can offer that means anything in the long run."
"I don't want to be the cause of you getting hurt!"
"Good, neither do I."
"Arwen, I'm being serious!"
"So, am I! Answer me two questions with complete honesty and we can resolve this once and for all," she proposed.
"Two questions? And an honest answer to both resolves this completely?" John demanded.
"Yes."
John stared into her eyes for several minutes as he tried to figure out where she was leading him. Seeing no artifice in her gaze, he finally nodded. "OK, ask."
"One… do you love me and want to be with me because it's what's best for you… what you truly want?" she whispered, her heart in her eyes. "Notice I didn't ask what you think is best for me or what you think I deserve."
The corner of his mouth lifted in loving exasperation. "I love you, Arwen… and I want to be with you more than I can say… for me."
Sagging slightly in relief, she took a steadying breath before she continued. "Two… if that should ever change, being with me no longer makes you happy, will you be honest with me and tell me… give me a chance to make things right again? If you are honest with me, I can face anything."
John stared at her in shock. Whatever he had been expecting her to ask, that was not it. "Arwen…"
"Please…"
Slowly, John nodded. "I can't imagine not wanting to be with you, but I promise to be honest if that ever happens… to give us both the chance to make it right again."
Reaching up to caress his face again, she whispered, "Ask me, John."
Tilting his head to fit into the curve of her palm, he murmured, "One… do you love me and want to be with me because it's what's best for you… what you truly want? Notice I didn't ask what you think is best for me or what you think I deserve."
Smiling slightly that he had included the last part, she stretched up to gently kiss him. Against his lips she vowed, "I love you, John. I want to be with you."
Taking a shuddering breath, John asked, "Two… if that should ever change, being with me no longer makes you happy, will you be honest with me and tell me, give me a chance to make things right again?"
"I promise, John."
The kiss that sealed their vows seemed more real and binding than the kisses that had sealed any of his marriages. Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, "I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I love you Arwen."
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