A/N: I was going to have this remain a one-shot, but I recieved new inspiration. Don't you just love it when that happens? LoL. R&R, pretty please!!

John Munch sat in his car in the parking lot outside of the station house with his hands on the wheel, praying that it would rain. After all, it almost always rained when people were sad, why not now? When the most important woman... hell, person... in his life had been taken away, why wasn't it raining?

She wasn't taken away, he thought, bitterly. She ran away. Ran away without a second look.

"Without saying good-bye..." he whispered into the the darkness, to no one in particular. Not that anyone was there to listen anyways. No one ever listened to John. He was a loner. Always had been. That's why every time he was sadled with a partner, they left. He probably scared them. Hell, he scared himself sometimes.

"Still here, Munch?" said a gruff, familiar voice from outside the car. Even though John had the windows rolled up, he could hear the voice clearly. Reluctantly, he turned to the passenger window and saw his new partner, Fin Tutuola, leaning over. John rolled down the window, and Fin leaned inside.

"You look like one of our working girls when you stand like that," John informed him. Fin narrowed his eyes, unlocked the door, and slid inside, closing it behind him.

"Since when are they our working girls? We ain't Vice, man."

"Yes, well, we see more hookers than Hugh Grant."

"Hugh Grant only had one."

"That we know of."

"Good point."

John gave a harsh laugh. "Hasn't anyone in the squad told you not to say that sort of thing to me?"

Fin raised an eyebrow. "What sort of thing?"

"'Good point,' 'That's funny,' 'What do you mean,'" John reeled off, ticking them on his fingers. "Hell, sometimes even laughter sets me off. I'm sure Stabler and Benson have told you all about how I love to ramble."

"Actually, no," Fin answered. "But, since you think they would, I'd say you're a little bit bitter."

John gave another laugh. Bitter was not the word for it.

They remained silent for a while, each lost in his own thoughts. John's continually wandered from Monique, to Boston, to his ex-wives, back to Monique again. The only constant in these thoughts was, Why do I screw everything up?

"I'm sorry about your partner," Fin said, finally, jerking John from his self-pity.

"Yeah, so am I."

"She told me to say good-bye to you for her," Fin continued. "She said she was sorry, but she couldn't do it anymore."

"I don't think I can do it anymore," John told him, surprised that he was even mentioning how he was feeling to someone he had just met. Fin remained silent, just looking at him, and John felt uncomfortable under his gaze, so he looked away, out the window.

After a while, Fin gave a sigh and looked forward. "I knew Cassidy for a little while, in Narcotics. For a while, you were all he could talk about."

"Ah, Brian Cassidy," John said, fake reminsence in his tone. "The other partner who switched out on me. Of course, he had the decency to say good-bye before he skipped out. With Monique, I walked into work this morning, and her desk was cleared out. I just love the two weeks notice policy we have."

"She said she was sorry, man..."

"Not to me, she didn't," John interrupted, vehemently. "She said sorry to you, and then you, in turn, told me. But she knows where my apartment is. She could have come up and told me, and I wouldn't have cared."

"Yes you would have," Fin said. "You would have cared either way."

"And why is that?"

"Because you are sick of getting pushed aside."

"A few weeks on the job and look who knows so much," John spat. Fin's eyes narrowed again. and he moved to get out of the car.

"Fine, man, you know what? You don't care, I don't care, no one cares. I'll see you tomorrow."

Fin stepped out and slammed the door behind him. John didn't even flinch, but he did yell, "Yeah, unless you skip out, too."

Fin didn't even look back.
Munch woke up from a dreamless sleep, and for a moment he didn't know what had awoken him. Then he heard a knock on the door and figured someone must be there. What else would be knocking, dumbass? he berated himself. He wasn't as quick-witted in the morning.

Groggily, he rolled out of bed and walked to the door, thankful that he had slept in his clothes. When he opened the door, he gave an irritable, "What?" before he saw who was there.

Monique looked up at him with a sincere smile on her face. "Nice to see you, too."

John stared at her with his eyebrow raised for what seemed like an hour, wondering if she was going to disappear. After a moment of the uncomfortable scrutiny of Munch's eyes, Monique said, awkwardly, "Can I come in, then?"

John shook himself out of the hypnosis and stepped aside for her to enter. She gave a quick smile before ducking into the apartment. He closed the door after her, and motioned for her to sit on his couch. Monique gave yet another smile and obliged.

"May I ask why you have blessed me with your prescence when all normal people are asleep?" John asked, referring back to humor as his defense mechanism to hide the jumble of emotions he was feeling at that moment.

"I actually came to apologize," Monique said, quickly, not wanting to beat around the bush. John raised his eyebrows and put his hands on his hips.

"For what, pray tell?"

"I think you know what, John," Monique said, sounding slightly annoyed, but he was used to that tone.

"Really? Because I have a few guesses, but I'd rather you spelled it out for me. You think I'm stupid after all."

Monique looked at him quizzically. "What? John, I never thought..."

"Well, obviously you thought I was stupid enough not to notice that my partner had quit," John spat, unable to keep the venom from seeping from his voice. Monique looked down.

"I really am sorry about that..."

"Save it." John shook his head. "I wasted too much on you."

Monique again looked up at him, losing her awkwardness. "Wasted too much on me? What the hell is that supposed to mean, John?"

"I think you know what it means!" he shouted, unable to control himself any longer. "You seem to have forgotten everything we've been through!"

"John, I haven't forgotten anything!"

"Then why the hell did you sleep with that suspect?!"

John regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. Monique's face tightened in defiance and pain, and John absolutely hated seeing her like that. Trying not to cry. He had seen her like that once before, before they had kissed, but there was more sadness then. Now, she was angry. Angry at him.

John sat slowly down beside her, and reached out to touch her cheek. "Monique, I..."

She slapped his hand away and stood. "Now you can save it. If that's what you think I am, just some whore, then you can save it. And I'm sorry I ever kissed you. Hell, I'm sorry I ever even met you!"

She stood up to leave, but he caught her arm. She turned around, anger still evident on her face. In fact, she looked about ready to punch him, but he just looked up at her with imploring eyes.

"Monique... please don't do this..."

"I can't stay, John," she whispered, the anger quickly dissolving from her face and voice. She couldn't be mad at John. "I just can't."

"You're afraid," John said, standing. "So am I. So are the rest of the people in New York, when they..."

He paused. She looked up at him.

"When they what?" she asked, and he looked down at her, into her soft, brown eyes. Before that moment, he had been afraid to say what he was thinking, but the sincere look in her eyes made his fear wash away.

"When they fall in love," he whispered. Monique looked away, bashful, but John tipped her chin up with his thumb. "Are we, do you think?"

"I think we're as close as we're gonna get," Monique agreed, before lifting her head up to kiss him. His arms moved about her waste, and her hands wrapped about his neck, teasing his hair a little bit. For a moment, John could not remember that they were two seperate entities. Instead, he felt that they were one person, one thing, one soul, just standing in the middle of no where, content to be in each other's arms.

When they pulled away from each other, Monique gave a small sigh. John opened his eyes and smiled at her with so much warmth and sincerity that Monique never knew how much she loved him until that moment.

"None of my ex-wives kissed like that," John commented, rubbing her arm with his hand. She gave him a playful smile, and said,

"That's because none of your wives were me."