Title: Reunion

Author: Fins-Best-Friend

Disclaimer: Don't own. Don't sue.

A/N: Oh, my word! Sorry it took soo long to update! This is a shorter chapter, but Chapter 4, which I have finished but haven't typed out yet, will be much longer. I don't know the name of the 1-6's usual bar, so I came up with another name, unless this is it, then I got it right and didn't realize it.

Chapter 3

McGafferty's Pub

10:23 P.M.

John stared at his reflection in his glass, trying to come up with a way to begin his story. Fin sat across from him, patiently waiting for him to start, meanwhile tracing designs into the condensation on his glass. He could remember how hard it had been to talk about the case he had dealt with the year before, when Munch had brought him here after he had found Nina Tremain. He had never met Nina, or her mother, Violet, before. He could only imagine what his partner had been through with this one. Judging by the look on the Jewish man's face, Zita's mother – Bowan, she had said? – and John shared a long and complicated history. This could take a while.

Munch sighed deeply. Beginnings were usually a good place to start. "I met Bowan almost twenty years ago, back when I was in Baltimore. We were partners in the homicide unit there. We were like Liv and Elliott – almost too close most of the time, but too good of a team for our captain to break us up. After about a year, we gave in and started dating – secretly, of course. It started out slow; I was still getting over my fiancé walking out on me for some twenty-something she met at a club and Bowan had never been in a serious relationship before, especially with someone seventeen years older than her, so it wasn't like slow was bad. We took it very slow. But about six-maybe-seven months after we started dating, our captain sent us on an undercover operation across town. A string of murdered couples in one apartment building. The sting lasted about a week and on the night the cops finally catch they guy while we were supposed to be out somewhere doing something – you know how they schedule these things. Our captain told us just to spend the night there, since the city was paying for it until the next morning whether we stayed there or not, and we might as well enjoy the penthouse while we could."

"Wait, they booked you a penthouse?"

"Like a good dream. Jacuzzi and everything." John said, smiling as he remembered, "When we were allowed back into the apartment, Bowan went to take a shower and I went to stand at the balcony and look at the city, like I usually do, watch the sun set, all that stuff. I'd had a lot on my mind lately and didn't realize how cold it was until I felt someone wrap a blanket around me around me. Apparently, I'd lost track of time, because Bowan was out of the shower and I'd missed the sunset. She stood there beside me, watching the city with me and talking until I noticed her shivering and opened the blanket to let her in. She'd always been warm-blooded, but Baltimore can be a very cold place to a person when it's sundown in October and they're wearing only a bathrobe. We stood there talking like that for – oh, at least an hour. Well, one thing led to another –"

"Whoa, man, I don't need or want details!" Fin said vehemently, holding up his hands as if to defend himself from unwanted mental images.

"Look, if you think I'd unload those details on you, think again – I had no intention!" he replied, giving his partner a mixed look of amusement and annoyance over the rims of his glasses. "Let's suffice to say that after I dropped her off at her apartment the next day, I started searching for engagement rings and better furniture. A week later, her stuff was in my apartment. That was when we had to let the captain know. Fortunately, he was fine with the situation as long as we didn't bring it to work with us. We were happy and everything was fine, but one day around mid-December, she disappeared. I didn't see her the last hour I spent at work. She wasn't at the apartment. I called her pager, but she never called back. I didn't know where she was. I didn't worry too much, though; her stuff was still at the apartment and I had checked all the hospitals, so I expected her to come back. But she didn't. I waited all night – no Bowan. The next morning, I went to work, hoping that, perhaps she had returned to the precinct after her errand and had stayed the night, but when I got there, the captain introduced me to my new partner. When I asked about Bowan, he just told me that she was safe and engaged. A week before, I'd found the engagement ring I wanted, but it was still in my pocket. I didn't know what to do. Her father's an Irish diplomat, so I thought she might have left with him. I called her father, Ian O'Malley's, house, but a butler or personal assistant or whatever told me that she wasn't there and gave me another number to call to reach her. So I called it and this person in Paris picks up and, after taking my name and my reason for calling, handed the phone off to this guy, Pierre, who picks up and tells me that Bowan has forgotten all about me and fallen in love with him, a French diplomat who could grant her her every wish."

"Which of course he didn't."

"I see Zita filled you in. Well, after he hung up on me, I nearly broke down. Didn't work for three days. All this time I've been angry, but I can hardly find justice in it now, after all she went through. Pierre told her that he would cause trouble for me if she didn't leave with him. She went and gave herself up – gave her daughter up – for me, a man who repays her by being furious at her."

"Look, it wasn't your fault. You were only running on the information you had."

John nodded in unconvinced agreement.

"So now you're back together?"

"Almost. We're trying. We both need time to heal."

Fin decided to change the subject. "Funny," he said, ordering another drink, "but Zita didn't act much like a victim. It was like she was reporting a rape as a witness. She didn't cry, didn't seem too shaken up or anything. I've never seen a vic act like that before."

John smiled sadly into his beer. "She gets that from her mother. She's probably been through it so many times, it doesn't phase her – or Bowan – as much as first-time victims. They're used to being strong for each other. No tears will be shed until they're both alone."

Fin glanced at his watch. Time had flown – it was almost 11:30. "We gotta get back. There's still paperwork and you're starting to sound too much like Huang to be listened to here."

Bowan had finished her commentary on John soon after Xavier returned with the Chinese. At present, the two patients were busy hiding the delicious contraband from the nurse who had brought their hospital food and was now checking there monitors.

"Those are an awful lot of take-out boxes for two men." the nurse commented.

Zita shrugged. "They're big guys. They eat a lot."

The nurse was still questioning but did not press the subject. "Hmmm, I see." she said, glancing over at Etienne, who was busy trying to chew with three duck wantons crammed into his mouth. While he knew he could not say anything, he did try to smile (with his mouth closed, of course) disarmingly at the nurse. It had little effect.

"Just make sure you don't eat any of it. The food we have is made especially for the patients. Helps 'em keep strengthen up." the nurse said, then left with a backward glance at the bodyguards, both of whom were trying to appear very concerned with the take-out.

"Ugh! Strengthen up, my eye!" Zita said, reaching for the iced tea she had stuffed behind one of the bed legs. "Personally, I think they're trying to keep the patients down so they can run up their bill. Pass the eggrolls?"

"Yes," Bowan said, retrieving her lo mein from under Xavier's watchful eye. "You and John are going to make a great team."

"What? He doesn't like hospital food, either?"

"No, well, he probably doesn't, but, his greatest hobby is coming up with conspiracy theories. He'd love that one, so don't tell him. He'd drive his partner crazy."

"Get's a little worried when H. G. Wells is mentioned, does he?"

"And aliens in general, and JFK, and Elvis, and the CIA, FBI, MI6, and the ex-Soviets."

"How does he get out of bed in the morning?"

"He probably has a theory for that, too."

"You finished it, didn't you?"

"Yes, sir, I'll be at the chateau in half an hour."

"Have the police caught the scent yet?"

"Not that I know of. For all I know, the women are still unconscious."

"Good. Get here quickly and make sure you aren't followed."

The tall, thin Frenchman snapped his disposable cell phone shut. All was going according to plan. Divorce him, would she? Disgrace him? Not if he had anything to do with it.