Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 3

Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so Spoiler warnings if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 3

"I love the potato salad here," Arwen commented, taking a second bite. "It has a little tanginess. I've never liked the recipes with sweet relish in them."

"I know the kind you mean. I used to live in Baltimore and I avoided the places that served the sweet type." Looking up after taking a bite of his sandwich, he observed, "You must have lived in the South at some point to have that strong an opinion. That seems to be a regional preference."

"My father was in the Navy and we traveled a lot when I was a child. I went to high school in Charleston, SC. Daddy finished his tour at the Navy base there. My folks loved the area and stayed after the base closed," she replied. "Mom's family is from Savannah, so it was a logical fit."

"Is your father a southerner too?"

"Does southern California count?" she teased. "He grew up near LA. I used to love visiting my grandparents. They owned an orange grove and I loved helping them, but they are both gone now. Dad sold the grove and built their dream house at Wild Dunes. How about you? Are you from Baltimore originally?"

"In part… my father's family all lived in the area around Pikesville outside Baltimore, but my mom is from New York originally. I spent my summers with my grandparents… they lived on the Lower East Side, so the City feels as much like home to me a Baltimore," he replied.

"How did your parents meet?"

"They met at a dance while he was waiting to be deployed during World War II. They fell in love at first sight and got married before he shipped out." Taking a sip of his coffee, he concluded, "When he got back, he wanted to go back to Pikesville. Mom hated it… she has the typical New Yorker's attitude that the rest of the country is a cultural wasteland, but she went. They loved each other passionately… and fought with just as much intensity. It was never boring in the Munch household."

"My folks were just the opposite. Mom knew exactly how to manipulate Daddy and he always gave into her demands. He put her wishes before every other consideration… us, his career." Sighing, she added, "He likes to blame Navy 'politics' for the fact he never got his final bump to full Admiral, but he has no one to blame but himself. I'm actually rather amazed he made it as far a he did given some of the foolish things he did to make Mom happy. In any case, they never fought; Mom just pouted and turned on the tears until he gave into her demands."

"And you resented that?"

Pausing to take a bite of her sandwich, she considered his question. "I did… still do, I guess. Even as a child I could see what she was doing and it made me so mad that he didn't… it undermined my respect for him. Dad is brilliant and a natural leader until Mom enters the equation. Then it's all about Clair's agenda… Clair's desires."

"I know we just met, but that doesn't seem to be your style. You must not take after her," he noted. "Are you more like your father?"

Frowning, she admitted, "No, I think I'm more a mix of my grandparents. I was shuffled back and forth between the two sets for several years while Daddy was stationed in Yemen. I loved being with them, so it wasn't a hardship."

"Just you?"

"Yes, I'm the youngest. When his orders came down, Mom played the helpless Southern Belle and Dad lapped it up with both hands. 'But Russell, my love… how will I manage? I'll be so lost without you.'" Frowning, she added, "Her final line was, 'Arwen and the boys are such handfuls!'"

Rolling her eyes, she concluded, "Imagine fluttering eyelashes… a few fat crocodile tears and you'll get the picture. I was sent to 'visit' my grandparents and my brothers went to military boarding school. Our older sister, Karen, was already in college, so she's the only one that didn't get shuffled around to suit Mom."

"He fell for that?" John grinned. "You must be exaggerating!"

Holding up her hand, she offered the Girl Scout pledge. "Honest. Her exact words! It turned out to be a wonderful experience though. Both sets of my grandparents were solid and down-to-earth. I was never interested in playing mind games or using tears to get my way, so it was a relief not to be thrown from one emotional scene to another. I hate high drama for drama sake, but my mom thrives on it. My older sister is just like her… so is Ara. Ron and I used to band together to survive the storms."

"Are you close to them… your parents, I mean?" he asked, accepting the pickle from her plate.

"No. I love them, but… I honestly can't say I like them as people very much. They didn't approve of my choices… especially my choice of a husband. I refused to let Mom run my life like she does my sister and brothers', so I'm the bad seed," she admitted, a rueful smile taking the edge off of her comments. "What about you? Are you close to your folks?"

She didn't miss the tightening of his features and upper body as the question left her lips. Before he could answer, she reached over to cover his hand. "I'm sorry, John. I spoke out of turn. Forget I asked, OK?"

John held her gaze for a moment before he felt his shoulders relax. To his surprise, he found himself answering. "My dad died when I was a teenager. I have a lot of unresolved issues with him that time never got a chance to untangle."

"I'm sorry. How old were you when he died?"

"Thirteen." Hesitating, he found himself admitting a secret pain that he had only shared twice before. "He had read me the riot act one night … whipped me with his belt for being a wise-ass. He wasn't one to use physical punishment, so I was really mad like only an adolescent boy can get. Anyway, I yelled at him… told him I hated him. That was the last time we spoke."

"Oh, John! I'm so sorry!" she gasped, squeezing his hand.

In a bare whisper, he added, "He… killed himself the next day."

Horrified, she clutched at his hand tightly needing to offer what comfort she could. "I… you don't talk about this do you?"

Looking up, John fell into the warmth of her eyes. "No. This is only the third time I've ever told anyone. I know… intellectually at least, that what I said didn't cause him to kill himself, but… it's haunted me for years."

They were silent for several minutes as she gave him time to regain control of his emotions. In a voice still ragged around the edges, he continued. "Anyway, my Mom tried to control everyone in my family too and, like you, I was the one that rebelled against her. Bernie, my kid brother, is the good son… her baby. She used to blame me for what my father did… not directly, but in hundreds of not so subtle ways. She's in a nursing home in Maryland and I go to see her a few times a year, but… our relationship is not what it should be."

Her hand still covered his. "I'm sorry that I brought up such a painful topic, John."

Smiling faintly, he suggested, "Maybe I need to talk about it more. Keeping it bottled up inside for forty years hasn't helped me get over it."

"Still, it was wrong of me to put you in the position of discussing something so personal with someone you just met." A small smile accompanied, "If it makes you feel any better, I can't believe I'm talking this freely either. I can't remember telling anybody the things I've told you!"

"This may sound odd, but it doesn't seem like we just met," John observed, turning his hand over to take hers in a gentle grip. "I don't remember ever feeling as comfortable having a conversation as personal as this one with many people. Maybe I just sense you understand what it means to be the one that rebelled… that pulled away from your family. I feel guilty and yet… I don't know how I could have done otherwise. Does that make sense?"

Squeezing his hand again, she nodded, "Yes, it does. No pressure, but I'm a good listener. I don't have answers for you, but I can listen while you find your own. I've had to do that myself… enough to make my peace with the past. Talking helped me sort out what bothered me."

"And you found a good listener to help you sort things out?" he questioned, curious to find out who had provided that support.

Sighing, she nodded. "The Marines provided me with a counselor after my husband was killed and I will forever be grateful for Dr. Morrow's help. I didn't realize how much anger and resentment I was carrying around until then. My sons benefited from that. It made me see myself in a new light and I was able to focus on them without my relationship with my parents getting in the way."

"I may take you up on your offer… but not today." Smiling to ease her obvious guilt that she had put him in an uncomfortable position with her questions, he asked, "So you have sons. How old are they?"

"They will turn 20 in November. I still can't believe they're grown men! Dan is a junior at Cornell in architecture and Rob is pre-med at Duke," she replied, her pride in her sons evident. "I made a point of sitting them down regularly as they grew up and urged them to be honest with me about things that bothered them. What I couldn't change, I tried to explain so they knew I had reasons for what I was doing. Now that they are older, they have both told me that helped… and that those answers now make sense. We are very close and I am very thankful for that."

"How old were they when their father died?" he asked, his tone betraying his hesitancy at bringing up a painful topic.

"They were only two. Danny was killed during the invasion of Panama in 1989. He was in the Marines." A faraway look slipped into her eyes, causing them to mist over. "He was a sweet man… loved me and the kids. He graduated near the top of his class at the Naval Academy and had a bright future ahead of him. It still makes me mad that my family never took the time to get to know him and judge him for himself rather than…"

Puzzled, John pressed, "Rather than…?"

Holding his gaze as if she wanted to judge his reaction, she stated, "Danny was black."

"And your mother didn't approve?" he asked, empathizing with her anger. His mother had never approved of his marrying a gentile. Gwen's mother had hated him as well for being Jewish… /a poor Jewish cop, not the rich doctor or lawyer she wanted for her 'baby'./. The strain had helped undermine their marriage and set a pattern for the disastrous three that followed.

"No, it was more my Dad. He likes to pretend he doesn't judge other people for their race or ethnicity, but…" Taking a sip of tea, she admitted, "He hated Danny and never gave him a chance. Mom followed his lead that one time… though I doubt she felt differently. She pulled me aside and told me she supported my choice, but 'didn't want to cause a riff' with Daddy. She patted my hand and told me a wife should always support her husband if a marriage was to be a success. What a crock! She never understood I saw through her games!"

"I know what it's like to have you family disapprove your spouse," he offered, wanting to strengthen the connection they had established. "My mother disapproved of my first wife for being a 'shikseh temptress' that led her sweet innocent boy astray. Gwen's mother hated me for being a poor Jewish cop. Their attitude helped undermine our marriage."

"First wife?"

"Another time. Do you and your sons ever see them?" John probed, moving quickly to avoid the messy business of his three other ex-wives. "It must have been hard raising them without their support."

"It was and it wasn't. At least I was spared their constant interference and judgmental attitude. Being a single mother was hard, but it was worth every grey-hair to have my sons," she insisted, pleased by his off-hand suggestion that they would be seeing each other again.

"Grey-hair? What grey-hair??" he teased. "I don't see any and I'm sitting pretty close!"

Grinning, she flirted, "Only my hairdresser knows for sure and she's sworn to secrecy!"

Smirking at her over the top of his glasses, John promised, "I guess I'll have to check more closely at some point."

"Humm… and just what are you suggesting?" she replied, fixing him with a provocative look.

A gust of laughter greeted her teasing… a second possible interpretation of his comment occurring to him. "While I admit I was hoping you might consider this a first date and go out with me again, I was referring to the hair on you head… for now!"

"That wasn't what I…" A bright red blush spread quickly over her face and throat, but he didn't fail to notice the grin had grown into a full smile as she murmured, "No, definitely not a topic for a first date."