Rating: T, for fluff and kissing and shippy-type stuff.
Disclaimer: I know that I do not own any of these characters and I have the years of intensive therapy and Mickey Mouse band-aids on my soul to prove it.

---

He had been alone for so long. It was funny: through all his cynicism and sarcasm he had still had faith that there was such a thing as true love, though he despaired of ever finding it. Love is for hormonal teenagers and appearance-oriented business-men, he told himself. He had always known that he had been lying to himself, but he had never expected the truth to reveal itself in such an unorthodox way.

It turned out that that truth applied to middle aged, divorced, Romanian, black-suit-wearing, conspiracy-theory-spouting sex crimes detectives too.

He had always tried to ignore the truth, to tell himself that love was a sensationalized emotion. He had never expected to be proven wrong on so many levels. He had never expected to be so surprised by someone previously so common place.

He had never expected to fall in love.

---

It had been a particularly hard case for her to try. I could tell; even as the jury delivered a verdict of guilty (on all counts) I could see the intense and… broody, I suppose, look on her face. Even as she left the courthouse, her delicate features were still tight with stress. I caught up with her on the steps.

"Alex, are you all right?" A simple question, the default phrase used by all cops. Everyone knew what the default answer was, or was supposed to be. 'Yeah, I'm fine, I can handle it.' Even when they couldn't.

"No."

And with one simple word I realized how much this had affected her. She had transitioned easily into SVU; she hadn't been shadowed by the horrendous crimes or shattered victims she had come into contact with – or so it had appeared. But it seemed that this case had pushed her into that painful sea that they all swam in at one time or another. Her eyes were broken, and although she always seemed to be completely aware of herself, she now appeared lost.

She sunk unsteadily to the steps, placing herself shakily as I took a seat next to her. She stared out at the city with an expression close to confusion. "How can people do such terrible things to one another?" she asked, her voice rising. "How can they torture and hurt another living, breathing human being and still insist that they love them?"

Her eyes moved to my face, and I was surprised by the pure, unadulterated innocence and hopelessness in her gaze. I removed my glasses. "Alex, knowing how these people think and why they do what they do would only serve to corrupt the remaining humanity of the rest of us. Because in the end, that's what these people are: animals."

"But isn't that all that we are, when everything boils down? I mean, what is the defining feature that makes these people who they are, what they are? Why not you, why not me, why not any of us?"

"They've been trying to determine that for years, and they still have nothing to show for it. The answers won't come for a long time, if ever. All that we can do until then is to catch them and keep them off of the streets."

I stood, offering her a hand up, which she accepted. Stomping her foot, she tossed her head angrily. "It's not enough! There are still tens of hundreds of thousands of victims who are too afraid or embarrassed to get help or report crimes. What about them? What justice do they get?"

"They don't, and it's tragic. But you're only one woman, Alex. You can't end abuse and disease and world hunger single handedly."

She took my hand and turned to face me, her eyes passionate and desperate and determined. "Then help me."

---

They walked through Central Park, cradling warm cups of coffee. Unspeaking, they shared a silent agreement, though for the life of him he couldn't figure out what it was. He wanted to say something, to distract her, but he couldn't find the right words, and she seemed perfectly content to calm herself with a stroll through the still-frozen grounds. The Pinetum was incredible this time of year. John liked it better in the winter, when the snow hung over the dormant trees like a soft shroud, and all of the cacophony of the city and its inhabitants were muffled by the ebony pines. The only sound that Munch could hear was the soft crunch of snow beneath their shoes and the hush of the trees. It reminded him of Frost's poem.

Whose woods these are, I think I know,
His house is in the village, though
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

But the Pinetum wasn't nearly as dark and ominous as the woods of Frost's imagination. True, it was silent, and the press of the pines would be somewhat unsettling to someone of fairer constitution, but its glittering ice was a sight to see. Winter had left the trees sparkling with frost like the light kisses of a lover.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

He looked out at the barren trees, robbed of their leaves by the lingering chills. "Why did you become a prosecutor?"

They stopped at the edge of the trees and hung back in the cover of the shadow. Wrapping an arm around one pine and leaning against it, she watched the children playing on the Great Lawn moodily. "Law is a family thing, but I switched sides of the courtroom… my parents weren't too happy about that," she said, a faint smile tinging her lips at some memory from years passed. "I guess that I wanted to right the wrongs of the world, you know? Help the weak, protect the helpless, bring justice…" she laughed bitterly. "It seems rather naïve now, doesn't it?"

He didn't answer. Pausing atop a bridge, Alex stopped, leaning over the railing to stare down at the swirling icy waters. Munch propped his back against it. "What about you?" she asked, turning her head to face him. "Why did you join the force?"

He stared at his hands pensively before answering. "I suppose I did it for the same reasons. I always told others that I did it for the challenge, but in actuality I think that what I really wanted to do was stop the people who hurt others."

Alex looked at him, her solemn eyes trailing over his stark silhouette.

"Hey Munch?"

"Yeah?"

"You have style."

"And on that completely random and unrelated note, we should start heading out of the park. It'll be dark soon."

They left the Pinetum, continuing on companionably.

"No, but seriously, I love that hat. I don't think I've ever actually mentioned it before, but I do."

"Thank you, Alex."

She kept looking at it, so he whisked it off of his head and offered it to her in a mock-gallant gesture. She accepted it. Still walking, she examined the hat, turning it this way and that while he studied her with (carefully masked) amusement.

They continued down along the western edge of the Great Lawn, walking past empty gardens and frozen ponds. They came to a courtyard surrounded by trees. Entering, John noted the open area, empty except for a large bronze statue in the clearing's center. Alex sighed.

"Alice in Wonderland," she said. Her tone, Munch thought, was that of a chagrined enemy meeting once again with an old foe.

"What, not a fan of nonsensical literature?"

"No, actually, I rather like Carroll," Alex said, taking a seat on one of the mushrooms, "It's just that I haven't been too fond of this particular story since high school."

"Why, what happened in high school?" asked Munch.

She looked down to stroke the head of the door-mouse, enjoying the texture of its engravings. Her hair shaded her eyes, hiding her face. "Don't want to talk about it."

Munch hoisted himself up onto Alice's mushroom with more effort and a breathless little 'Oof'.

"Oh, come on, Cabot. I bought you a coffee, that must count for something."

She sniffed. "It wasn't a very good coffee, either."

"But this promises to be a very good story. Tell me." Seeing her unchanging expression, he let out a mock-pained sigh.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Munch."

"If curiosity killed the cat, then satisfaction brought it back."

"That's not how it goes."

"I assure you, counselor, that's exactly how it goes."

"I don't believe you."

"Fine. But I'm telling you, that's how it goes."

She rolled her eyes, and they were silent for a moment. "Alex..."

She threw her hands up with a short, almost astonished little laugh. "I'm not telling you! You'll tell the rest of SVU and then they'll mock me for the rest of my life."

"Not for the rest of your life." Under his breath he added, "Maybe just for the rest of your career prosecuting sex crimes." Seeing the reproachful look that she threw him, he said, "Okay, okay, I'm kidding. I won't tell them."

"John..."

"I promise!"

"I suppose that I'll have to tell you know or you'll never leave it alone."

"You suppose right. As my co-workers often tell me, I'm like a pit-bull with a chewy toy when I get stuck on something."

She sighed. "All right." She paused for a long moment, until John made little shooing motions at her

"During my sophomore year," she started reluctantly, "my theater class did 'Alice in Wonderland' for a-"

John interrupted her. "You were in theater?" It seemed so unlike the intelligent ADA. He would have figured that she'd've taken an advanced language or been part of the newspaper, something that would've looked good on her college applications.

"My mother made me," Alex answered, wrinkling her nose. "She said that I was a studying fiend and needed an artsy class to 'round me out'," She rolled her eyes at this, and then continued. "I didn't audition, mostly just held props, painted the sets, that sort of thing. I wasn't big on being so conspicuous. But I had loved 'Alice in Wonderland' as a child and I decided that I wanted to audition play Alice."

"You auditioned for the lead in a play. You. Alex Cabot, A.D.A."

"Yes, I auditioned for the lead, all right? It was a long time ago. Anyway, I rehearsed in my room every single night until auditions. I was so obviously better than the other girls," she sniffed.

That's the Alex Cabot I know, John thought. The woman's almost cocky nature had always been obvious to everyone that she was involved with, endearing and infuriating at the same time.

"So imagine my surprise when I checked the cast roster and found that Sylvia Plotts was cast as Alice. And do you know who I was cast as?"

Munch looked at her over his glasses, eyebrows raised in his usual sarcastic expression. "The Walrus?"

"The Dodo."

Munch barked a laugh. "Are you serious?"

Alex nodded, propping her chin on her hand and looking melancholy. "And not even that. I was the Dodo's understudy."

"Forward, backward, inward, outward, come and join the chase, nothing could be drier than a jolly caucus race," Munch sang (Well, maybe not so much sang as rasped, Alex thought, vexed) a little off key. Alex threw him an irritated look, to which he gave an apologetic – yet still mischievous – smile.

She slipped off of her mushroom. Grabbing John by the arm, she pulled him off of his mushroom and linked her arm in his companionably. "C'mon, Sinatra. I don't want to be in here after dark. There are all kinds of weirdos in the park." She should know; she had prosecuted enough sexual assaults and murders on people who were attacked in Central Park.

"You seem to forget, my dear," said Munch, looking down his nose at her with feigned loftiness, "That you are in the company of one of New York's Finest."

She smirked up at him teasingly. "No offense, John, but that doesn't exactly fill me with confidence." She reached up to brush his shoulder mockingly. "You're getting too old for this job."

"Bah," he said dismissively as they exited the clearing. "Dream on, kid."

---

They headed towards the exit at East 75th and Fifth Avenue. Alex and John were about fifteen minutes away when the A.D.A. dropped her scarf. Munch stopped a few yards ahead and turned back to let her catch up. She stooped to pick it up, hiding a palmful of snow beneath the gray wool. She trotted forward to catch up with John, who had once again began walking when he saw that she had retrieved the scarf. Walking silently beside him she gravely waited a few seconds before ruffling his hair (unfortunately for him) with the hand that held the snow.

Alex kept walking, and turned back to look at him after she had gone a few feet. He was standing stock still, and reminded her suddenly of an offended cat. After a moment he shook snow out of his hair, trying to get it out before it melted and soaked his hair entirely. Smiling sweetly, she said, "'Revenge is a wicked, cruel, dangerous thing'," she said, quoting Carroll, "but," and here she feigned innocence, "Snowy and wet really is a good look for you, John." She chortled softly to herself, a small smile on her lips. "A caucus race indeed!"

Two can play at this game, John thought. He walked on a couple of steps before tripping and falling hard to the cement with a curse. Alex doubled back in concern, forgetting her comeuppance. "Are you all right?" She bent down over the detective.

Wait for it, wait for it… he cautioned himself silently. Now.

And the blonde A.D.A got a fistful of slush in the face.

She sputtered, rocking back on her heels and standing. "Oh, you cheater. That was just mean."

"Fighting fairly is for knights and humanitarians. It's much more fun to fight dirty."

Alex growled, irritated, deciding that retaliation would only earn her retaliation. She walked once again towards the direction of Fifth Avenue, resigned to letting herself be one up-ed. "You're maddening, you know that?"

He shrugged, smirking. "Yeah, I know."

---

They reached the edge of the park. Alex knew that his apartment was south of here, while hers was north.

"Well," John said, "this is where we part company."

"So it is," she said, hiding a twinge of regret with a smile. "Well, thank you, John. You've cheered me up considerably."

"I live to serve, Ms. Cabot."

Realizing that she still held his hat in her hands, she dusted non-existent lint off of the brim. Alex took a step towards him, standing on tip-toe to place the hat atop his head. Adjusting the hat, she noticed for the first time that the simple gesture had brought them much closer together. She met his dark gaze with her own ice blue stare, their eyes now at the same level. Slowly, almost detachedly, she felt her arms sink back down to her sides.

It was as if she was caught in the dark warmth of his eyes. It was intoxicating, and she felt as if she was moving slowly (ever so slowly) through a pool of deep brown honey, or… or molasses, sweet and yet stifling all at once.

Munch was frozen by those eyes, pierced by the utterly haunting gaze that flooded into his soul, filling him with a prickling, numb bliss that was akin to what he imagined frostbite would feel like. His hand lifted to brush back a lock of corn-silk blonde hair from her delicate, porcelain face, flushed from the biting cold. Her skin was cool to the touch, cold and smooth as ice. His arm dropped, falling to rest softly at the small of her back. The hand, as if of its own accord, moved her until she was closer still.

She gazed up at him, her eyes questioning softly. Not protesting, he noted, somewhere in the back of his mind. Slowly, pausing just a split second, he moved forward. Their eyes shared an intense look, and both felt a passion and strength that was strange and unknown to them.

His lips met hers. Alex's arms slid up to hook behind his neck. John's other hand found her waist and wrapped around before tightening gently. Alex just tilted her head back. For an ice-queen, he mused irrationally, she sure has warm lips. Alex ran her fingers through the fringe of hair along his collar (Very distracting, John thought).

But for a moment all of the noise of the city quieted, and all of the hustle and bustle of movement stopped. Time froze into a perfect moment, and even after she slowly pulled away the golden haze remained. As she stared at him through half closed eyes and thick dark lashes, their gazes locked once again, and warmth flooded through Alex's body. Munch, however, felt as if he had just been shocked by a taser. There was an odd spark bouncing around his solar plexus and a buzz rattling around in his skull, but it felt inexplicably, incredibly energizing. John took a tentative step back to see Alex better.

The shroud of silence dropped as the car horns, human voices and mechanical rumbles fell back into place with an almost audible snap. Alex's eyes widened and she turned quickly, as if to leave (I shouldn't have done that, I shouldn't have done that…), but John caught her softly by the wrist. Turning her reluctantly back to face him, John realized that he didn't know what he wanted to say.

He tugged off his hat and settled it atop Alex's head. It was a bit too big for her: it hung farther over her brow than it should have. John gently tucked a strand of ash blonde hair under the rim and away from her confused eyes. He lightly brushed a kiss across her cheek. With the hint of a smile, he said (not unkindly), "Good night, counselor."

She looked up at him once again, her eyes wide and serious, and touched his hand lightly. "Good night, detective."

And that was how spring began.

To Be Continued...

A/N. I bent the fabric of the universe to make it possible for Munch and Cabot to take the path they did in such a short time. New York natives, please don't shank me.