Title: Risks, Chapter 4

Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: JM/OFC

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

Please R&R!!

Happy Holidays!

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Risks, Chapter 4

Scanning the squadroom, Olivia asked, "Didn't John come back after court?"

Cragen looked up from the file he was studying with Fin and Elliot. "He called in a few minutes ago to say he was still there waiting to be called, but it looks like he wouldn't get to testify until tomorrow at the earliest. Apparently, the defense attorney hit Casey with a batch of last minute motions. He was royally pissed by the waste of time."

"I feel his pain," she agreed. "I was going to suggest that drink after work, but I guess that's out again. We've been saying we were going to do that for two weeks now, but we can't very well take him for a drink if he's not here."

"I wonder what's up with him? He's been making himself scare a lot lately. And, I thought you had plans with your mystery man," Elliot demanded, unaware of the jealousy that was coloring his voice.

"Never said that," she hedged, smothering a smirk at his reaction. /Too bad John isn't here to enjoy this. He would be having a field day since my mystery man was his idea!/

Frowning, Elliot demanded, "I mentioned making a run to Jersey City to go though their records and you said it would have to wait until tomorrow… you had plans. What changed?"

"I never said who my plans may or may not include," she retorted, turning to pour herself a cup of coffee… and cover her grin. "My plans are for later, so we'd have had time for a drink or two."

"So…?"

Glancing back at him… and the two other amused men struggling not to laugh, she innocently asked, "So… what?"

Irritated, Elliot demanded, "So what are your plans?"

Tilting her head to study him, she reminded him, "When I got back, you made it clear you didn't need a hander. Fine… your call, but why should you then expect to be mine?"

"Fine!" Snatching the folder from Cragen's hands, he stormed off toward the file room. "I see if I can find the records on Marlow's priors."

Once he was gone, Fin fixed her with a pointed stare. "How long you plan to keep this up, Liv? He's about to blow a fuse… has been since you and Munchkin dreamed up your mystery man."

Sighing, she dropped down into the chair next to his desk. "Every time I try to talk to him, he cuts me off. He can't have it both ways… expect to know my business, but keep me at arm's length."

Cragen observed, "Now that his divorce is final, I've been expecting him to ease up on that, but…"

"But what?"

"He isn't ready to take any risks yet, Liv," Don replied. "Admitting he cares for you is a giant risk."

"He wasn't afraid of taking a risk with Dani," she fumed.

"Not the same thing, Liv," Fin corrected. "She was never cut out for this unit… we all saw it even if he didn't want to admit it, so she was a temporary on all counts. Then too, she wasn't ready for a long-term relationship… still had too many issues about her husband to resolve to offer more than a casual thing. He could care about her without the risk of loosing much… offer a little comfort while getting a little for himself."

"Thanks for reminding me he got a little from her! I thought you didn't like her," Olivia retorted, angry and confused.

"Got a little comfort… you know what I meant!" Fin insisted, shaking his head in frustration with the pair. "And it's not so much I didn't like her as she didn't fit in with the flow of things around here… didn't get the subtleties of the work. John didn't like her, but after that deal with his uncle, he had reason."

"So… do you think he fell for her?" she whispered. "Was it more than the desire for a little comfort and sex?"

Leaning back in his chair, Fin continued. "He wasn't in love with her, Liv, but he also didn't have a history with her that might get screwed up by having sex without offering more. Besides, she made him feel in control… protective. He needed that at that moment."

"Needed…"

"You were gone… had left him and he didn't know when… if, you'd be back. Kathy had left him. Look at this from his perspective, Liv. He probably wanted to feel needed and protective more than he wanted sex… though he needed that too." Holding her gaze, he added, "May be time to stop playing this game before it blows in your face. It's served it purpose… was all you could have done at the time. You clearly have his attention again, but it's time to get real… take some risks of your own."

Nodding, Cragen let Fin's observations sink in for a moment before adding, "Fin said it all, Liv. John would agree if you want his opinion. Time for you to take a few risks of your own or let him go."

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Rella smiled as John slid into the booth across from her. "How did your testimony go?"

Reaching over to take her right hand, he lifted it to his lips so that he could press a kiss to the palm. "Today was a complete waste of time. I spent the whole day cooling my heels, waiting to be called. The defense attorney hit our ADA with a bunch of frivolous, last-minute motions, dreamed up because he knows his bastard of a client is guilty and doesn't have a chance of winning if the jury actually gets to hear the facts. Said jury spent the day trapped in the jury room, so God only knows what they are thinking. I have to go back tomorrow and try it all again."

Squeezing his hand, she offered, "That sucks. I'm sorry it was such a frustrating day. Hopefully, the delay pissed off the jury and they will not be in too generous a mood with him."

"One can only hope," he agreed, before giving his drink order to their waitress. "How was your day?"

"Other than taking the dogs for walks, I spent most of the day working on a painting I plan to include in the show. Philip, my agent, came by for lunch… and to make sure I was working." Sighing, she added, "He's not very subtle."

"Are you behind in getting ready for the show?" he asked. "I thought you were on track."

Grinning, she tilted her head to study his reaction. "I'm on schedule, but Philip is worried because he's afraid you're a bad influence on me and the show is in less than a month. The gallery selected me for their big holiday show/bash and he is freaking out because his rep is on the line as much as mine. Until I started seeing you, I was all work and very little social life. He's afraid you'll distract me and I'll get behind, Johnny dear."

"That sounds like my life before we met," he offered, lifting her hand for another kiss. "Have I kept you from working too much the last couple of weeks?"

Smiling, she leaned over the table and gave him a lingering kiss. In a throaty voice, she murmured, "Other than inspiring a painting that will never be seen by anyone but us…"

"You still won't let me see it!" he complained, reluctantly leaning back to allow their waitress to place his drink in front of him. Smiling his thanks… something he found himself doing more frequently since he had met Rella, he asked, "Has anyone else seen the paintings in your bedroom… of me… us?"

Blushing slightly, she nodded. "The G and PG ones, but not the others. Those are strictly part of my private collection."

Reaching over to recapture her hand, he smiled, "Good to know. I have a rather unfortunate history of private collection pictures of me ending up in very public places."

Sputtering on her drink, Rella demanded, "What? There are other nude paintings of you floating around?"

"Paintings? None that I know about, but you never know." Chuckling, he tilted his head to watch her over the top of his glasses as he added, "Now, photographs are a different matter."

"Do I dare ask?"

"A youthful indiscretion that came back to haunt me, nothing more," he promised, still grinning broadly.

"Humm… why do I doubt that?" she asked, knowing it was silly to feel jealous, but feeling that way all the same.

"If you ever meet any of the detectives from my old division in Baltimore, I'm sure they will fill in any gaps I left if you ask nicely. In fact, they'll probably tell you even if you don't ask!" he promised, pleased by her reaction. "So, who else has seen the G/PG paintings?"

"A lot of people. I did the first one when I was still a child. It's what led to my parents arranging for me to have art lesions, so I guess I have you to thank for that," she offered, still slightly miffed that another artist had found him first. "My mother loves the ones of you as a boy. She says you reminded her of a boy from her village in Romania."

"Really? My mother has always told me I looked like her baby brother, Duri, when I was little. She came here with my father after the war and never saw him again." Sighing, John added, "She wanted him to come with them then, but he stayed to try and find any of their relatives that survived the war. He found a few… planned to come to America in the '50's, but he died before he could in an influenza outbreak. I remember her getting the news when I was just a small child. It devastated her."

"His name was Duri? Is that short for something?" she asked, intrigued. "Your mother's name is Anna, right?"

"Yes, Anna Ionescu Munch. Her brother was named for their maternal grandfather, a Roma named Durriken Zeigler," he supplied. "I was always surprised they used a Gypsy name for him since my grandfather was the village Rabbi. His name was Mihail Ionescu and his wife's name was Beti."

A stunned expression had overtaken Rella's face. "You said… you mother and her brother hid in the mountains with family during the war, but that your grandparents refused to hide."

Puzzled, John nodded. "Yes, they remained in their village to rally his congregation and ended up being taken to a Nazi work camp where they died. Mother and her brother hid with my Grandmother Beti's sisters. Why? You look… spooked."

Squeezing his hand, she whispered, "John, the boy my mother remembered… the one she said looked like you, was named Durriken. He had an older sister named Anna. I don't remember their last name, but I'm pretty sure their father was a Rabbi. They were in the caravan Mama and my older brother and sister sheltered with during the war."

John sat staring at her for several minutes. "Is it possible… our mothers came from the same small village and actually knew each other?"

"I always visit my parents on Thursday mornings to help them run errands, so I'll ask Mama tomorrow." Holding his gaze, she murmured, "Si khohaimo may pachivalo sar o chachimo." (Romany for 'There are lies more believable than truth.')

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"Bună dimineaţa, Rella," her mother greeted her, holding open the door to their condominium. "Ce mai faci?" (Romanian for "Good morning, Rella." " How are you?")

Kissing her cheek, Rella smiled. "Mulţumesc, bine. Ce mai faci, Mama?"

(Romanian for "Fine, thanks," "How are you, Mama?")

"My knee is giving me a little trouble, but nothing too bad, dear one," Tatiana Kirpachi replied, linking her arm with her youngest child's. "You are a little early, so join me for a cup of tea. Your father is still watching the morning news. You know we will have to wait for it to be over before he will leave without grumbling."

Grinning, Rella teased, "And the reason for the rest of his grumbling?"

"He's Romanian!" her mother agreed, sharing her grin. "Go speak to him and let him know you are here while I make fresh tea for you."

"Sit and rest your knee so you will enjoy the morning," Rella urged. "I'll put on the kettle to boil, then go speak to Papa."

Pausing at the door to the den a few minutes later, Rella smiled fondly at the sight that greeted her. Her 98-year old father was leaning forward in his chair and offering a running commentary. The latest news on the war seemed to be the cause of his current ire. Petre Kirpachi's mind had remained as sharp as ever and he was not shy about expressing his opinion… or criticism.

"Bună dimineaţa, Papa," she called, walking over to kiss the top of his head. It still amazed her that he had retained a full-head of blue-black hair well into his 90's.

"Rella… you're early!"

"So, Mama has already told me," she agreed. "We are having a cup of tea before we leave, so no rush. Come join us when the news is over."

"I cannot believe what a mess these idiots have gotten us into in Iraq! War is not something to be undertaken so lightly!" he complained, settling back into his chair. "Bring me a cup of tea if you will."

"Do you want another biscuit?' she asked, relieved to see his mind still so engaged in the world.

Sending her a devilish grin, he nodded. "See if you can sneak me one past the warden in there! She says I need to cut down on sweets."

Chuckling, she turned back to the kitchen. "I'll see what I can do… maybe a stale crust of bread and a tin of water."

Snorting with amusement, Petre turned back to the TV and was soon arguing with the pundits again. Comforted by the sight… at their advanced ages, she did not take any visit with her parents for granted, Rella returned to the kitchen and finished making the tea. Once it had steeped, she fixed her father a cup to his liking and snatched a couple of tea biscuits to take to him. Her mother pretended not to notice, smiling fondly as Rella left the room.

Stirring her tea as Rella joined her at the kitchen table a few minutes later, Tatiana studied her 'miracle child' closely for a moment, finding signs of something she had despaired of ever seeing. Her Rella was in love. "Who is he?"

Startled, Rella looked up from adding honey to her cup. Seeing the excitement in her mother's eyes, she relented rather than make her work for it. "John… John Munch. He's a police detective."

"A policeman? What is he like?" her mother demanded, already beginning to plan the wedding.

"Opinionated, sarcastic, torn between protecting personal rights and the need to ignore them to get the monsters they deal with off the street… he works in the Special Victims Unit," Rella began. "He's passionate about his work, thinks everything is a conspiracy, and is the most fascinating man I've ever met."

Chuckling, her mother nodded. "Sounds a lot like your father. They should get along well."

"He's also been divorced… more than once and is Jewish," she added quickly, worried what her devote Catholic mother would say about that. "And, he's 54."

"Why should his being Jewish bother me, Rella? Your father is half Jewish after all. You know your heart… your relationship with God is part of you. We are all called to him as he wills it; you heard his call as a Catholic and that is not likely to change because you now love this man," Tatiana began. "The age difference is not so great and is no more important to me than it was when you sister married Jack. They had a good life together and he loved her dearly. I often think she didn't fight her cancer as much as she could have because she wanted to be with him again."

"I am, however, more concerned that he has been married before and is divorced," she admitted. "But, I will give him a chance to prove himself to me before I say more. If you love him… and I can see you do, he must be a worthy man."

"He is." Hesitating, Rella admitted, "Mama, there's more. Do you remember the paintings… sketches I've done since I was a child of the man from my dreams?"

"John is this man?" her mother asked, confident now that the new couple would find a way to make this work. The gypsy influences of her youth still called to her spirit and she believed in the power of dreams. "I have always wondered about that. If he is the one you have long foreseen, then he is your destiny."

"He is. He has had dreams of me too," Rella added, dropping her head to try and hid the blush the memory of their first night together… his reaction to her paintings, inspired.

Laughing, he mother held up her hand. "Seeing that blush, I do not think I wish to know more!"

Feeling her blush deepen, Rella concentrated on her tea. "His mother is Romanian… half-Roma, like you, Mama. She grew up in a village in the Carpathian Mountains. Her name is Anna Ionescu Munch. She had a younger brother she called Duri… named for their maternal grandfather, Durriken Zeigler. Her father was the village Rabbi… Mihail Ionescu and his wife was Beti. They died in a work camp after sending their children to hide with a Roma caravan."

Looking up, she noted the surprise on her mother's face. "You always said my pictures of him as a youth reminded you of a boy from your village… Durriken. Is John his nephew?"

"He must be," Tatiana murmured. "Those are the names of that boy's family. I have not thought of them in many years. Anna… his mother, is still alive?"

Catching her mother's shaking hands, Rella nodded. "She married an American soldier and moved here after the war. They settled in Baltimore. John says she lives in a retirement home there and is in good health. He goes to see her every month."

Wiping a tear from her face, Tatiana smiled. "I wish to meet your John… and perhaps renew my friendship with his mother."

"Who is Rella's John… and this friend of which you speak?" Petre's voice demanded from the doorway. "Has she finally decided to accept a suitor and give us grandchildren?"

"Come and join us, Petre, and we will tell you," his wife offered, dropping her voice to add for Rella's hearing alone, "but I suggest you leave out that blush for now. Your father will not be as understanding as I am. You are his baby girl and always will be."

Grinning, Rella nodded as she slid around the booth to make room for her father.

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