Title: Risks, Chapter 2

Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: JM/OFC & OE

Rating: M, adult content
Disclaimer: The Munchkin isn't mine, except in my dreams! Sigh! DW owns him and the others.
Summary: A sequel to my Halloween fantasy, Whispers. Everything of worth has risks; what would you risk to find true love? JM/OFC & OE

Feedback greatly appreciated!!!

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Risks, Chapter 2

John hesitated at the door of the small jazz bar in the East Village. He and Esmerelda had agreed to meet there for a drink after a couple of long phone conversations in the evenings after he had made that first call. He had been surprised by how easy it had been to talk to her, by how many interests they had in common. Now that he was at the bar, however, he found his confidence wavering.

A soft voice broke into the silent pep talk he was giving himself to go inside. "John?"

Swinging around, John found himself staring into a pair of lovely green eyes. Up close, the eerie resemblance she bore to his dream lover was even more striking and caused a shiver of remembered pleasure to ripple through him. "Esmerelda! I… it's good to finally meet you."

"It's good to finally meet you too, John." Tilting her head to the side to study him, she urged, "Please call me Rella. Esmerelda is too unwieldy for regular use."

Beginning to relax, John opened the door to the bar, stepping to one side so that she could enter. "I like Esmerelda. It's slightly exotic and mysterious… not commonplace like my name. Besides, it's perfect for someone with eyes like yours."

Smiling, she countered, "And I like the name, John. It's real and solid. It makes me think of someone I can trust… depend upon."

Spotting a table in a quiet corner, John followed her as they wove their way across the crowded room. "Thanks for not saying it's boring," he joked.

Settling into one of the two chairs, Rella teased, "I somehow feel safe in guessing few people find you boring."

Her smile made him catch his breath and he found himself staring helplessly into her vivid green eyes. "I… urrgh. No, I guess not. What would you like to drink?"

That momentary glimpse of the gentle, vulnerable man peeking out at her from behind the walls he had built around himself called to her and she found herself being captivated by him in return. "I… urrgh… a martini would be nice. Vodka, straight-up, three olives."

After giving their order to a passing waiter, an awkward silence settled around the table. Neither had been prepared for their elemental reaction to each other. "So… you're an artist. I looked at your site on the web. I love the portraits you posted… so expressive, especially the eyes."

"The eyes are the key to any portrait… painted or a photograph," she replied, relieved to have a safe topic to distract them while she tried to wrap her mind around what she was feeling. "If the eyes speak to you, the rest of the work makes sense. If they are flat… devoid of life, the whole composition fails."

"I couldn't help but notice…" he began, surprising himself by bringing up a potentially explosive issue this soon into their acquaintance, "that one of those portraits looks like me."

Feeling exposed, she slowly murmured, "Yes… it does."

Motivated by a fierce need to know, he pressed, "How is that?"

Wrenching her eyes away from his compelling gaze, Rella stared at the table. "This may sound… insane, but… that day I saw you… I turned back to look because you looked so very familiar. I felt like I knew you already."

"I had the same reaction seeing you," he admitted. "You look just like a woman…"

"A woman what, John?" she pressed, unconsciously leaning toward him.

Their waiter arrived at that moment with their drinks. Taking a bracing sip of his martini, John let the fiery liquid burn down his throat. In a rough whisper, he admitted, "A woman… that has been in my dreams since I was a child."

Rella held his gaze for a moment as she came to a decision. "Can we leave this for a little while? Talk about other things? Once we finish our drinks, there's something I need to show you."

Confused, but intrigued, he nodded. /What can she have to show me?/

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"Have you seen Munch? He disappeared after we got back from the ME's and I can't find him."

Looking up, Elliot shook his head. "Sorry, man. I haven't seen him in an hour or so. What's up?"

Fin dropped into the chair beside the other detective's desk. "It's Friday, so I was going to see if he wanted to get out of here at a decent hour and go for a beer… maybe try that bar we went to on Halloween again."

"Translation… you feel guilty too for being such an ass that night and want to give him another shot at that woman," Elliot prompted, pushing away from his desk to lounge in his chair. "Olivia read me the riot act for hassling him about her. She got me thinking. He does need to get out more. I made me notice how down John has been getting… especially since his Uncle had his breakdown. None of us have done much to help him get back on track."

"That explains the evil eye that Liv has been giving me," Fin noted, trading a rueful grin with Elliot. "I have no excuse. I've seen things were getting bad. You know about his father?"

Frowning, Elliot shook his head. "Know what?"

"His father committed suicide when he was a teenager."

Turning, the pair found they had been joined by Olivia and Don Cragen. All eyes focused on Olivia. The worried expression on her face reinforced their own concerns for their friend and colleague.

"Damn! He never told me that," Cragen admitted. "You both knew?"

"Shit! I didn't know that either!" Elliot exclaimed, noting that both Fin and Olivia were nodding their heads in response to Cragen's question. "No wonder you were so mad at me. I guess that also explains why his Uncle's problems hit him so hard."

Nodding again, she took her seat. "I wish I had been here to support him through that. Your temp partner wasn't much help, that's for sure! I coaxed him into talking to me about it when I got back, but… John needs help, guys. He deserved better than the two of you tearing him down because your vanity got ruffled that a beautiful woman flirted with him rather than either of you."

"That's not…" Elliot began.

"Yeah, it is, man," Fin inserted, rubbing his neck in frustration. "All four of us noticed her and its natural to want to attract someone that looks like that. If it had been one of us, we would have taken the jibes in stride. We have a little more confidence that a beauty like that might have been seriously attracted to us. We made John doubt himself too much to make a move. He's all talk anymore when it comes to the ladies."

"Speak for yourself," Don complained. "I pretty sure I've never attracted a woman that looked like that one, so I would have been in the same boat as John! She was as beautiful as any woman I've ever seen. She was in our esteemed colleague's league. And yes, Olivia, I mean you."

Chuckling at the embarrassed glare being directed at their Captain, Elliot sobered as he admitted, "I didn't know about John's family history. I guess that confirms your claims, Liv, that I don't consider the effect of our work on him. I really do respect him… consider him to be a good friend. It's just… I've never figured out how to read John. I can think of only a handful of times he's made sense to me… his anger over Sara Logan's murder, Amy Solwey… that transplant fiasco, and his Uncle."

"Yeah, he can be hard to get," Fin agreed. "It took me a while to see through his act and, like I said, I have no excuse for not seeing what our teasing was doing to him. It didn't hit me until we were driving to the scene afterwards. He was quiet and withdrawn… he gets like that sometimes, but he had been so stoked earlier, I made the connection. It was too late then."

"So, what do we do to help him?" Elliot asked.

"Well, we need to do a better job of spreading out the burden of digging through pictures and vids of abuse. He gets stuck with most of that," Olivia insisted. "That can't be good for him!"

"Yeah, but he always volunteers, so…" Fin began. "I never got that."

"He's trying to protect the rest of you," Don replied, dropping down onto the edge of Elliot's desk. "He doesn't want those images in your heads any more than is absolutely necessary, so he does it to spare you and then he can't sleep for weeks… longer some times."

"Damn! That makes sense, but I never thought about it."

"He didn't want us to get it," Olivia observed. "That's just John. He does what he does for his own reasons… acts sarcastic to deflect speculation about his private thoughts, so it takes effort to understand him. We get busy… or stressed out over a case and it's easier not to notice than make the effort."

"So… where is he?" Fin asked, going back to his original question. "I'd like to take him for a beer at that bar… maybe see if that lady is there. He needs someone in his life. Hell, getting laid would be a good start. I can't remember the last time he even tried to hook up with someone when we go out for drinks."

"I think it's to the point that a one-night-stand is the last thing he needs," Don countered. "One night then he's back to being alone. That makes him notice it more and feel cheated."

"Speaking from experience, Cap?" Elliot teased, ducking as Olivia through a wad of paper at his head. He sometimes found it hard not to stare when her beautiful face lit up with that mischievous grin. /Damn! I wish I knew who she's been seeing. I don't get why she's making him such a mystery./

"Yeah… you and Fin are too young to get it yet," Cragen sighed, "But you will! Trust me… you will!"

"Naw, I'm getting there too," Fin admitted. "Last time I hooked up with a young hottie at a bar… I felt pretty good about it that night, but the next morning was a different story. Way too much chatter for that early and… she couldn't have been but year or so older than my son, Ken! It was just sex with no future for either of us and that's getting old. I felt like a perv leaving her place, then ducking her calls. Starting to feel like one of those pathetic guys we see with their trophy wives milking them dry and they're too blind to see it. Sad!"

"Sad and then some," Cragen agreed, secretly relieved that he wasn't the only one feeling like that in this group. "So, where is John? We should all take him for that drink."

George Huang walked into the squadroom in time to hear Cragen's question. "I saw John leaving when I got here… around 6. He caught a cab out front."

"Well, I guess that means we will have to try again on Monday," Elliot observed. "I think we all agree we need to do something to help him."

"Finally notices how depressed he's become?" Huang demanded.

"Damn, not you too!"

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Their cab deposited them in front of a converted warehouse in SoHo. The hulking building had been carved into residential lofts in the late 70's as the area transformed into a trendy artist community. Riding the elevator to the top floor, John followed Rella down the hall to the last unit on the left.

"I forgot to ask… you're not allergic to cats or dogs are you?" she asked, her key poised in the lock.

Shaking his head, he admitted, "No, but cats usually hate me. Dogs are a toss-up."

"I should warn you… I have a bad habit of taking in strays. I'm usually in violation of City codes," she cautioned. "I find homes for most of them… eventually, but I have five cats and three dogs that are mine. I need to find homes for some of the others, but they have to be good homes. I wish I could keep them all, but they need their own person."

Even with her warning, John found himself staring in shock at the sight that greeted them. "Rella… there must be two dozen animals in here!"

Shaking her head, she grinned up at him as she knelt to greet her menagerie. "Just eighteen. The five kittens will all be leaving in a week or so. I have homes arranged for them, but they are still too little to place. Their mother died from complications in their birth, so her owner… my agent, asked me to help him bottle raise the litter. It was easier just to bring them here. They needed more care in the early days than he could give them. I was up and down at all hours feeding them a special formula that simulates a mother cat's milk. It was touch and go if we could save them for a week at least. Aren't they precious?"

A massive brindle Irish wolfhound had taken up position in front of him, flanked by a red-sable sheltie and a large orange-coated tomcat. The three were eyeing him warily. "Rella… I don't think they like me."

Looking back in his direction, she began to chuckle. "Boys, this is John. He's a friend, so give him a chance, OK?"

The sheltie took a cautious step forward and sniffed his hand. Apparently satisfied by what he found, he began to wag his tail in greeting. That was the signal the wolfhound had been waiting to see. Barking happily, he jumped up to place his front paws on John's shoulders.

Unprepared, John took an instinctive step backwards, only to find his path blocked by a small mixed-breed terrier that had appeared without his noticing. "Urrr… Rella?"

"Down Tal!" Rising quickly, she moved over to free John from the clutches of her pets. "Tal… short for Taliesin, is just an overgrown puppy, so you have to treat him like one. Will is the sheltie. He's our ambassador. If he likes you… which he seems to, the rest will follow his lead. Well, except for Max… the cat. He's very protective of me and you'll have to win him over. The little dog is Fancy. She the one that stirs things up… playtime is all the time in her book and she thinks an empty lap is an invitation, but she sheds, so consider that another warning."

Four female cats had formed a semi-circle around the small group, watching the goings-on with a mix of curiosity and distain. "The other ladies of the house are… beginning on the right, Maggie, Lady D, Jewel, and Clover. They're in charge, but the others… especially Max, refuse to admit it."

Regaining his bearings, John found himself smiling as he bent to scratch Tal and her other protectors behind their ears. Max refused to relent and continued to watch the man with an unwavering glare. "And the rest?"

"I try not to name the ones I have to find another home. Naming them makes it harder to let them go," she confessed. "Rufus is the cocker spaniel. He's just visiting while his owners are in California. He goes home this Friday, don't you boy?"

"So, you have four more that need a home?"

Sighing, she nodded. "Three cats and the poodle-mix. The latter was rescued by friends who found her in the middle of Broadway Halloween night. We posted flyers… put an ad in the paper, but so far no one has called to claim her. She's well fed and healthy, so she isn't a stray. I hope her owner sees them and calls soon. She's clearly missing her person."

Moving over to a coat closet, she shrugged off her coat. Holding out her hand for his, she continued. "I will probably end up keeping the grey and white cat by the bathroom door. He's blind in one eye and it will be hard to find him a suitable home. He's shy, so he'll hang back until he trusts you."

Pointing across the room, she noted, "The other two that need a home are sitting on the back of the couch. The male is only a few months old and would make a great pet for someone. The female was hit by a car and is just now recovered enough to be placed. She's fixed… well, all of them are except the baby kittens. She's sweet… less than a year old I'd guess and she really needs a home."

"I may know someone that would like to have her," John offered. "One of the detectives in my squad mentioned wanting to get a cat for his daughter. I'll ask him on Monday if you want. If she's already been spayed and is litter-trained, she would be a good fit for them."

"Great! I'm always looking for good homes," Rella smiled. "Can I fix you a drink… something to eat?"

"Sure. Whatever you're having," he agreed, pleasantly surprised by how relaxed he was to be in her home for the first time.

Moving forward into the room, John quickly scanned the large loft, noting a bed tucked behind curtains in the left corner of the space under a cantilevered balcony. From his vantage point, he noted the upper level was used as her studio. A couch and several chairs had been arranged in front of a fireplace on the right wall of the unit. An open kitchen occupied the space to his right. A modest-sized dining table and chairs had found their place nearby. The unit's only other room was to his left, the bathroom from what she had said earlier.

Vivid paintings covered the walls of the lower level. Sculpture and objects of all sorts were everywhere, often vying for space with hundreds of books that overflowed floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Fascinated, he slowly began to study the items closest to him, silently hoping he had other chances to view the rest in the detail they deserved. Her pets shadowed him as he slowly made his way toward the living room, periodically nudging him for attention when he paused to study a canvas.

Rella watched him from the kitchen as she began to assemble a light meal. She was pleased by his reaction to her eclectic collection, many of them her own work. Having learned long ago that she could learn a lot about a person from watching them react to her art, she remained silent and let him take it all in at his own pace. Her pets' reaction to him amazed her as they seldom took to strangers as quickly as they had him. By the time their meal was ready, she was sure her instincts about him had been right, they shared an innate compatibility.

Regretting the need to interrupt him, she called, "Would you mind lighting the fire, John? There is a chill in the air. I love fires on cold nights. We can eat in the living room and soak up the heat."

Startled, he looked over to find her watching him, a tray in her hands. Sweeping his hands to encompass what he had been studying, he exclaimed, "This is… amazing… brilliant!"

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Several hours passed as they talked and shared a platter of finger food… cheese, marinated shrimp, and fruit for the most part, and a bottle of wine. An antique clock on the mantel over the fireplace startled them when it chimed midnight. Neither had noticed how late it had gotten.

After a short pause, Rella rose to her feet and offered him her hand. "I haven't shown you what we came here to see. I got distracted by our conversation."

A little embarrassed by how thoroughly he had lost track of time, John rose to join her. "I enjoyed it."

Smiling, she nodded in agreement. "So did I."

Still holding his hand, Rella lead him into the area protected from casual observation by the curtains that shrouded her bed. Taking a calming breath, he followed her into the private space. Inside, he found not only her bed, but a small sitting area and a desk. All of that was, however, totally ignored as he stared at the paintings and sketches that covered almost every inch of the walls in the room.

Some of them were of a tall, lanky man. Others were of a skinny, awkward boy, many with a green-eyed, raven-haired girl watching him from behind trees or around corners. Others… the ones that captured his stunned gaze most forcefully, were of a man and woman in poses that ranged from innocent to intimate. In all cases, the man… the boy, was him and the lovely woman in his arms… at his side… entwined with his body, was Rella.

"How…?"

"You're not the only one to have dreams, John."

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