Home Is Where The Heart Is

Chapter One

For a few, magical moments, thirty-four-year-old Alexandra Cabot felt as if she was back home in New York City. The air was slightly warm and could become foggy at times. There was that welcoming scent of car exhaust and the metallic tasting, adrenaline-rushing action that never made room for dullness, and there was always the gentle hum of conversation lulled her sense of isolation. She could almost forget that she was living in an unexciting, bland, suburban California city and pretend she was on her way to the courthouse to convict another hard ass trying to wreak havoc on an already imperfect society.

"Mommy; tell Connie to let me swing on the swing!"

Her eyes fell on her upset four-year-old son Kenny—a black haired boy with Caribbean green-blue eyes and creamy tanned skin. His pink lips were clinched together and his cheeks were already turning an angry shade of crimson. It was tempting just to ignore the quarrel between her twin sons and continue her mental journey to New York, savoring the memories she had of her long missed home. Instead, she reached out and softly touched one of her son's chubby cheeks; he smiled softly, her loving touch calming him. She took his hand and led him into the playground.

Alexandra glanced around at the rest of the children, whom were busy absorbing the hot weather and running about full of glee; Connie, her second son and Kenny's physical mirror image, sat in a swing brushing his feet through the air happily. He was clearly enjoying himself. The sound of his laughter rang throughout the well-populated park. Connie, she knew, wouldn't be too thrilled about having to part from the swing. A day out to the park only promised one thing to him; lots of swinging. She hated to disturb him, but she knew it had to be done.

"Connie," Alexandra called out. The boy came to a quick stop and grinned up at her happily. Waving excitedly he motioned for her and his brother to join him, it was as if he didn't remember the beef between him and Kenny. Or he just didn't care. When they reached him, Connie pointed up to the sky and laughed. "You see how high I got Mommy?"

"Yeah I did, good job kiddo," she leaned over and kissed his cheek the same way she'd kissed his brother's. That gesture earned her another smile; her own smile. "Now that you've been able to get really high, let's give Kenny a try."

"That one's empty," Connie sat pointing the swing adjacent to him. He didn't have a complaining tone of voice; Connie wasn't much of a complainer. He was almost always calm about things, which was unusual for a four-year-old. "Kenny can use that one."

"I want that one; you had that one since forever!"

"We haven't been here since forever," Connie pointed out calmly.

"Get off you…"

"Hey!" Alex shouted jumping between her boys. "No need to get physical. Here's the deal, Connie you get on the other swing and let Kenny have that one until we leave. Take it or leave it."

"Okay," Connie answered nonchalantly jumping off of the swing, even holding it for Kenny to get on. Alex helped them both onto the swings, gave them each a few pushes, and headed back to her bench.

The warmth of Earth's yellow star warmed her face. Insects droned on ceaselessly; it would be easy to drift off to sleep. But she wanted these few moments to be hers to daydream; to pretend for this short time that she wasn't over two thousand miles from New York City; that she wasn't carrying the extraordinary responsibility of keeping her true self balled up inside; that she wasn't struggling to keep her hopes up; that she didn't even have to keep her hopes; that she wasn't lying to her children. For just these few minutes, she would lie there and imagine she was back in New York, back to being herself, had her children welcomed by her family and friends and she'd be returning to the same loving arms. That she went to back to her old life—and John Munch.

She'd finally half managed to resolve her feelings for the detective. It had taken over a year before he wasn't creeping into her thoughts, before she stopped hearing his voice, his laughter, in her mind. She had hidden his pictures because they only kept the wounds open; she decided (although sometimes she doubted it) that after four years, he would've written her death off as the truth and moved on with his life. She must do the same. Recently she realized that she was starting to forget what he looked like, but when she looked at her children, their children, his image kept creeping back and smacking down her feeble attempts at moving on.

If she had forgotten him, why was he the star of her daydream? Simple; she hadn't really forgotten him. She'd been telling herself that for so long she'd begun to believe it. She still loved him, that wasn't going to change; whether she liked it or not. Alexandra closed her eyes, pictured John and thought of the homecoming conversation she'd have with him.

"There were times when I didn't think I could stand it anymore, ya know?" said Alex. "You can't imagine how hard it was to look at our children and not tell them about you, about us, about all this. I had to keep my sprits up for them, just had to. I couldn't risk them losing their happiness because their Mommy did." She was sitting across from John at table in the kitchen of his Brooklyn apartment. The huge windows let the light seep into the welcoming space. She ate the fresh chicken blue cheese salad slowly, savoring the graceful flavor on her tongue.

John, warm and loving, smiled at her. "You did what you had to do. But does being a mother mean not being able to show the slightest weakness? Is that what being strong means to you? That you're not allowed the feelings other people are?"

"That's how it felt to me. I had to be confident, let them know they were safe with me. And it worked; they don't have a scar on them." John reached out a hand and caressed her face and whispered, "And I'm so proud of you for that."

"Proud enough to make love to me?" John laughed and pulled her from her chair. "I'm always proud enough to do that."

Resting her hand against the park bench, Alexandra smiled to herself. She missed making love to John. The feeling of his body next to hers, the smell of his cologne wrapped in the sheets, the things he'd whisper to her. She hadn't been with a man since the night they'd conceived the twins. Then again, she wouldn't let any other men in.

"Mommy, can we go home now?" Kenny was already at home in her lap and Connie was just standing up with his arms folded. Alexandra found herself staring at them, looking for their father. She found John's boyish ears sticking out the sides of her boys heads; they reminded her of the ears on little elephants. She remembered how she used to tug on John's to make him smile at her. When she'd tug on her sons' she'd get the same response. She noticed Kenny watching her with his left eyebrow raised and his head cocked to the side. The look was all John Munch. "Do I gots something on my face?

"No sweetheart you don't have anything on your face," she laughed. She stood up from the bench and took their hands into hers. "You guys hungry?" she already knew the answer, Kenny and Connie guzzled down food like American made cars guzzled down gas. When they shouted their "yes" in unison Alex paused for a minute and said, "Who wants Pizza?"

"I do, I do!" both boys practically jumped out of their shoes when she mentioned the cheesy Italian meal. It was one of the few things about her new home that reminded her of New York. It was also a plus that her boys loved it as much as she did.

As soon as they got home she ordered pizza and dinner was a joyous affair. The boys devoured half of the extra large pepperoni and sausage pie by themselves and finished off most of the soda. Although she basically had to push the salad down their throats, they boys finished their meal happily, ending it with individual burps.

"What's for dessert?" Kenny asked after letting out a second burp.

"That's enough burping, both of you, and what have I told you about not saying excuse me?"

"Not enough because we still do it," Kenny dealt her a cheeky grin but he immediately wiped it off when she glared at him. He looked to Connie for help and Connie, being himself, jumped from his chair and into his mother's lap. As usual he had to redeem Kenny. Putting his head on her chest he tilted his head and whispered, "You told us we weren't 'posed to burp without saying excuse me. Me and Kenny are both sorry."

"No need to be sorry, just remember to be polite at the table," Alexandra tugged playfully at her son's coiled ponytail. "And as for dessert, Kenny it's your turn to pick buddy. Chocolate ice-cream or SpongeBob Popsicles?"

"Uh…" Kenny closed his eyes and rubbed his temple in thought. Alexandra didn't know rather to laugh or cry, he looked so much like his father, and she figured she'd repress everything about Munch like she'd repressed so many other things in her life. No matter how hard she tried he'd still lingered in her thoughts, in her life, in her boys. It was just impossible to forget him. "Mommy, you okay?" Kenny's voice pulled her abruptly back to reality. She reached out and stroked his tiny hand.

"I'm fine, just thinking. So…did you decide?"

"Yeah, Sponge Bob Popsicles."

"Alrighty; You guys get ready for your bath; you can eat them while you're washing up."

Downstairs, Alexandra was tossing through the top shelf of her linen closet looking a special picture of her and John Munch at a posh Manhattan restaurant celebrating Alex's win on a case. They'd had a random bystander snap the image of Munch's arm around her waist and his head resting against her shoulder. Her midnight blue eyes gleamed with joy while his chocolate ones were filled with love. She hated that picture.

When she found it she plopped onto her big black leather couch and began to cry. Tears splattering the glass covering the painful image from her past as wishes for change flooded her mind. She wanted to slap herself for looking at it; she knew it would bring back happy yet painful memories. But she just let it go, no matter how hard she tried. No new identity, house, or life could really change anything. She was still Alexandra Cabot, Kenny and Connie were still John Munch's children, and her heart still belonged to him as much as she belonged in New York.

"Mommy we're ready now!" She let out a slight laugh at the sounds of Kenny's voice; it always made her smile when her children called her "Mommy", there was a time in her life when she never thought she'd be one. She didn't think she could handle being a mother after all the things she'd seen as an ADA for the New York Police Department's Special Victim's Unit. Children who'd been raped, sodomized and beaten; the parents who were ripped apart by another person's hunger for power. When she learned of her pregnancy, Alex just couldn't imagine bringing a life into so unsafe a world. She thought it was wrong. But when she looked into the eyes of her babies, she knew, like the mother's of those victims, there was a way to get through it. Alex peered down at the picture in her hands and whispered, "We'll get through it." She kissed John, placed the photo back in the closet, and headed to the bathroom with a soft smile lighting her face.

"Do you gots to wash it?" Connie asked, running his fingers over his wet curly hair. It was long, almost to the middle of his back, and thick. It was the one physical feature that distinguished him from Kenny and he loved it. Only thing was, washing it was hell. Alexandra basically had to hold him down to get the soap out. The way he'd scream and cry broke her heart, she hated to torture him, but he had to learn early that everything comes with a challenge; nothing's easy.

"Sorry kiddo, but I have to."

"Can we do it tomorrow?" he whimpered.

"No sweetie we can't, but think of it this way, we won't have to wash it for another two days. You can have a break."

"I don wanna! Please don't make me."

"You shoulda got a hair cut like me," Kenny smiled at his brother and patted his almost bald head. "Then you wouldn't have to get your hair washed."

"Mommy please don't," Connie pleaded, ignoring Kenny's feeble attempt to upset him. The tears were already beginning to fall. "You don't have to read me a story tonight or chase away the monsters! Please don't!

"I'm sorry kiddo, but when you have long hair you have to wash it. Just tilt your head back, it won't take long.

After a few good blood curdling screams, lots of tears, and a whole bunch of kisses and backrubs, Connie's hair was finally washed. Alexandra lifted the sobbing boy into her arms and dried his curls while rubbing his back. When Connie quieted she placed him on the daffodil yellow floor towel and dried him off, then repeated the process with a shivering Kenny. When both boys were dry, she lifted them both up into her arms and carried them to their rooms.

"I think tonight we're going to read in Kenny's room tonight," Alexandria told Connie after handing him a pair of clean Spiderman pajamas and underwear. He nodded sadly, slowly dressing. Alexandra knew he was still sad about his hair. She knew he'd be back to normal after he got dressed, but she hated to see him that way. "Maybe you should get a haircut kiddo, it would make things easier for you."

"No, I don wanna. I love my hair. Don't worry Mommy, I'm not sad no more," he smiled up at her lovingly and placed his hand in hers. She lifted him up and placed a kiss on his forehead. "Come on, let's go read."

"Do we gotta read tonight?" Kenny asked from his bed. He'd already knocked off his stuffed animals to make room for his mother and pulled out his trundle bed for Connie, but didn't seem quite happy about having them there. "I'm tired."

"No we don't have to, Connie do you mind?"

"No, I can sleep in here with Kenny. The monsters won't come if me and Kenny is in here together."

"You guys sure," when they nodded she helped both of them into their beds, kissed them, and turned off the light. "Goodnight guys."

"Goodnight. Go to sleep Mommy, you're tired. I order you!" Connie yelled to her after she shut the door.

She was amused when Connie "ordered" her to get some sleep; even her four-year-old knew it was imperative for her to rest all she could—he seemed to know she needed to be at her sharpest to get by in the world—but she still felt like a child being told to take a nap.

And again, like every other night, she couldn't sleep. She tried going through the techniques she'd developed over the years to combat her spells of insomnia. She sat in her breezy, poorly lit room, doing breathing patterns, relaxation exercises she read in her yoga magazine, and meditation. She even tried a warm tall glass of milk.

In her all her efforts to relax her mind, one thought came pushing back. She was lost. She needed to get back to New York and back to John Munch. This was probably the billionth time she'd faced that dilemma. Her life had always been a series of challenges and crisis', and most of her energy had gone into coping with them, trying to fix them. She'd been tested time and again, pushed to limits where she just knew she'd fall, and then pushed further. Would this shit ever end? Would there be a day that she wasn't called to solve an impossible problem, play the hero, to overcome some life-threatening obstacle. She just wanted to throw her hands in the air and yell out "fuck it!" Just give up! The thought was tempting; she was tired of challenges. There was a time when they fueled her blazing fire, strengthened her, but now they threatened to overwhelm. She needed help; she wanted someone to stand by her side…somebody who'd help her take care of everything….

"I came over as soon as you called; what's going on? Are you okay? Where are the boys? Did something happen to them?"

Alexandra looked into the worried eyes of her boyfriend and sighed loudly. They'd just reclaimed their relationship; everything wasn't perfect but they were both happy. He'd fallen in love with her sons and come to grips with the notion that "she wasn't a priest; she didn't have to remain celibate". John had been accepting and more than willing to overlook the past and start a beautiful present, but she just couldn't keep him in the dark any longer. It wasn't right. He had a right to know.

"Calm down," she placed a welcoming kiss on his lips and smiled. "They're with Olivia; they can't get enough of each other. She jumped at the opportunity to spend time with them and the boys couldn't contain themselves either."

"I think they've got a little crush on a certain lady detective," John laughed. "When you bring them to the station, they just follow her around like love sick puppies; it's cute."

"Yeah," Alex sighed again and walked over to the couch. Running her fingers through her long blonde hair, she peered up at John with strained and sad eyes; she hated herself for not telling sooner, all this would've been a lot easier if he knew from get go. "John...I think you…umm…should sit down…."

"What's the matter, are you aright?"

"I will be as soon as I get this out," when he sent her a confused look she took both of his aged hands into hers. She kissed one gently and stared into his eyes. "I really don't know an easy way to tell you his John…"

"Not everything in life comes with ease, just say it, it'll be okay."

"My…the boys…I've never said much about their father…."

"I told you, it doesn't matter, I'm their father now…."

"Let me finish….I…you….you're….their father John….you're Mackinley and Connor's biological father…."

He just stared at her, his face unreadable, his eyes empty. He got up from the couch and walked over to the television stand where Alexandra kept a few pictures; she'd nicknamed it "the timeline shelf". The pictures went from her as child to her with the SVU squad, loads of her with the boys, and a recent one of the two of them posing with the twins at the NYPD's New Year's party. He picked up the recent photo, not looking at it, and sat down next to Alexandra.

"They defiantly have your eyes," his voice just above a whisper he pointed to the boy's smiling faces. It was his turn to sigh. He kept his eyes on the picture as her spoke. "I…I…I guess I've always known. They look like you, a lot like you, but I've always saw myself in them. I guess…I guess I was letting myself see what I wanted to see, ya know? I wanted so desperately for them to be mine, but I just figured they weren't, but that voice in the back of my head said they were, and being me I just ignored it. But I can see it, their ears...my ears. Some of the faces they make, the way Kenny rubs his temple in thought and the way Connie raises his eyebrow," John looked up at her with a happy but questioning smile. "When?"

"When what?"

"When did we…did we make them?"

"It was that night when…"

Alexandra's head shot up and her eyes flew open and for a spilt second she didn't know where she was. Memories of her real life, hopes, and feelings floated around her, vaporous and fleeting. She tried to hug to them but they faded away like shadows in light. Then the present came galloping back: she was in California, she was a single mother named Lara Dobras, taught fifth grade math at a local elementary school, and she had no love life. With pain came tears, and so she let them fall.

"Mommy are you okay?" she turned her head abruptly and found Connie in her doorway clutching his favorite teddy bear; the hallway light kissed his concerned features and his eyes roamed her face for answers. "Why ya crying?"

"Come here kiddo," he scuttled over to the space she'd made for him in the covers. Alexandra pushed a stray curl from his eyes and kissed his nose. She nearly cried again when he reached up and softly dried her tears, like she did for him. She pushed back the tears, she never cried around the boys intentionally, and pulled her son into her arms. "Don't worry about me sweetie, I was just thinking about an old friend. So, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"I had to go to the bathroom and then I heard you crying, so I came to see if you was okay."

"You're such a sweet little boy," she kissed his nose again. "You want to sleep in here or do you want to go back in Kenny's room?"

"Here! I like sleeping with you, you smell good and he doesn't."

"Alright Mister Man, close those eyes; we still have some fun to have tomorrow."

"Okay, and Mommy?"

"Yes Connie?"

"The sad monsters will go away if you cry. You can cry with me Mommy, I won't mind."

"Thank you," and to her surprise a tear slipped. He patted her hand softly and rolled over. She watched him drift into sleep before whispering to herself. "Thank you, John."