Title: Reunion

Author: Fins-Best-Friend

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

Chapter 11

January 13, 2004

SVU Squadroom

Upon their last phone call, Casey Novak and Philippe Ludont had decided to save time on their respective cases by simply combining them. This would be cause for less paperwork and possibility of a harsher punishment, especially if the judge knew Bruno was not cooperating with the French detectives investigating the double homicide/kidnaping case he was being charged with.

And it was because of this that Zita, Antoine, and John were on their way to the airport to pick up Monsieur Ludont at seven o'clock in the morning. True to her work, Zita had gone to sleep that night, but it hardly constituted as a deep sleep, so she sat in the back – well, lay in the back, really – while John drove. It had not been easy for her to give up her keys, but neither man would allow her to drive with the kind of sleep deprivation that causes one to almost fall asleep in one's breakfast.

As it turned out, Ludont's plane was an hour late and they barely made it to court on time; that part of the trial went off without a hitch, however, and the prosecution went home relatively happy with the proceedings.

Everyone on the prosecution's side except Zita Plouvin, which was strange, as she had not been forced to testify yet.

"I'm not willing to let her take the stand."

"Zita, she's one of the few maids willing to talk."

"No, Case. She's already had her childhood stolen from her – kidnaped, emotionally, physically, maybe even sexually abused. She's not strong enough to rehash that in court."

"And what's happened to Ani is a tragedy, but the only way to make it right is to win this case. She knew what was going on and she saw physical evidence. She's a key witness, like it or not."

Zita sighed. So much was riding on this case. The French double rape/homicide, the murder of her mother, the near-murder of Xavier, the abuse of the estates' staffs, the abuse she and her mother suffered, the kidnaping to Anna-Marie Delacroix – they all needed to be avenged, preferably in court. "As long as I'm with her when you prep her and when she's in the courtroom, especially the stand."

"Deal. Can you take me to talk to her?"

Zita grabbed her coat and keys. "Sure. I was going to pick her up today, anyway."

As the duo reached the precinct doors, John, who had been in Cragen's office, called them back. "Zita, are you busy?"

"Kinda, why?"

"Can you reschedule?"

She looked over at Casey, who replied with disconcerting knowingness, "I can talk to her later."

Zita nodded and turned back to John. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain on the way." he said, motioning her towards the door.

"Are you going to tell me where I'm driving to?" Zita asked, unlocking the Bentley's door.

"Family courthouse."

She pulled out onto the street, honking at a car in front of her that had stopped short. "Are you planning on launching into your explanation now or will you keep me in suspense until I break into a homicidal rampage?"

"Zita," John began, looking for the words, trying to find a way to avoid his usual bluntness, "your grandfather is your legal custodian, but, as we both know, young people are not his cup of tea."

Her heart was pounding hard now, but she stayed silent.

John continued. "The truth is, Zita, you're like a daughter to me and there is no way I would willingly let someone, especially a man like your grandfather, take you away from me. If I had been able to marry your mother, this wouldn't be an issue; I'd have just adopted you then, but I don't really have that option anymore. Your grandfather has sent his lawyer as his representative and now he's requiring that you be present during the trial today for the verdict."

Zita had fallen into a minor state of shock. She had never, in a million years, expected this. A little miffed at not being told about this trial, she answered, "So, how is it going so far?"

"I'm not sure. The judge was kind of vague."

"Who's your lawyer? Or are you going it alone?"

"My nephew came up from Boston. He's a grad student to Harvard."

"Huh." said Zita, pulling into the parking lot. "Hope he's good." she left it at that, knowing that John understood what she was really thinking. Going back to Ian O'Malley was the last thing she wanted and probably the first step on the way to an arranged marriage like her mother's.

Family Courtroom

4:00 p.m.

The hearing was not going well.

"I'm sorry, Detective Munch. You seem to have been a good parent for Miss Plouvin, especially during this difficult time, but Mrs. Plouvin's will dictates that Zita should fall into Mr. O'Malley's custody. His job is safer than that of a police officer, his finances are better, and high-town Dublin is a better place to be brought up in. He's also family. That's a lot stacked against you."

John knew better than to answer. His temper had never really been all that well-disciplined, and if he blew his top at the judge, he would lose Zita for sure.

The judge continued. "And as such, I believe that it would be best for Miss Plouvin to be placed under the custody of –"

"Wait!"

All attention turned to the blue-eyed, brown-haired girl now standing behind John Munch.

Zita stepped into the aisle. "Permission to approach the bench, Your Honor?"

Intrigued and surprised, the judge nodded. "Step up."

Zita waited as the bailiff opened the gate leading to the open space in front of the bench.

Ian O'Malley's lawyer, a thin, rat-like man in a grey suit and thick-rimmed glasses, stood up. "Objection! This is clearly a ploy by Mister Munch to get custody! She can't do this!"

Zita beat the judge in responding. "Listen, O'Grady, I've had it up to here with you. I'm a Harvard graduate – I know American law. Butt out!"

The courtroom was filled with quiet snickers from everyone but O'Grady – even from the judge and bailiff. "Proceed, Miss Plouvin."

Zita stood before the judge, looking a lot smaller to John than she sounded to the courtroom. "Your Honor, I'm an American citizen by birth and less than a year away from being eighteen – a legal adult here in the States. My grandfather never had any interest in me before now, which makes it seem that he has an ulterior motive."

O'Grady interrupted. "Objection!"

"Over-ruled!" exclaimed both Zita and the judge, simultaneously.

John smiled. Ordinarily, Zita's answering would have cost her her speech before the judge, but it seemed that her spunk was winning him over.

Zita continued. "John Munch has been an exemplary father and I can find witnesses to prove it. He was also almost engaged to my mother before her arranged marriage to Pierre Plouvin and completely engaged to my mother at the time of her death. Had she not been murdered by an employee of the man my grandfather forced my mother to marry, John Munch would have been my step-father and legally responsible for me anyway. I understand the verdict Your Honor was about to make, but I ask for a chance to change it."

"How so?"

"I request that Your Honor and his court give me one month to find a blood relative living in the United States that will apply for custody. As an American citizen, I believe forcing me to leave the country to be unjust."

O'Grady stood again. "Objection!"

"Over-ruled! Sit down and shut up before I hold you in contempt, sir!" the judge exclaimed. He had begun to regret his decision to hear this case. He turned back to Zita. "Young lady, I am going to grant your request. If you can find a blood relative that meets this court's standards for custody by February thirteenth, I will grant custody."

O'Grady nearly fell out of his chair, but did not say anything. The last thing he wanted to tell Ian O'Malley was "Oh, the case is in jeopardy and, by the way, please send five hundred dollars to bail me out of jail for contempt because I spoke without raising my hand first."

"Thank you, Your Honor." Zita said and went back to her seat next to Fin.

"This court is adjourned until February thirteenth, two thousand - four."

BANG!! The judge winced as his gavel echoed loudly through the room and left, muttering something about earplugs and sound boards in the courtroom.

John jumped up from his seat and grabbed Zita in a ferocious hug, spinning her around and kissing her forehead. The day was looking up.

"Are you sure about this? It's a longshot; I don't want you to get your hopes up just to get them dashed against the rocks."

The Bentley's wheels crunched on the medical examiner's office's parking lot. Fin, deciding that this as an exclusively-family issue, had declined to accompany John and Zita to the ME's, heading back to the stationhouse to report on the events of the custody battle.

"You're my best bet. If you trace back exactly nine months from my birthday, you'll find that my mom was still with you. To my knowledge, there's no other blood relatives in the States."

She parked the car, but John kept her from departing. "Zita, what if I'm not your father? What are you going to do if your grandfather tries to marry you off?"

"Don't worry, Dad. Even if you're not my father, I"ll be back in less than a year. And you'd be surprised to see the many ways I could get out of being forced into a marriage I don't want."

McGafferty's Pub

9:00 p.m.

The case against Bruno was proving to be tougher than Casey and Ludont had planned. Benoît had arrived while they had been discussing the case over take-out at Casey's office, informing them that he and Bruno were entering a not-guilty-by-mental-disease-or-defect plea the next day on the grounds that Pierre had allegedly brainwashed Bruno into unconditional obedience, forcing him to commit his crimes, just as unconditional obedience was required when he served in the French military.

"So he blames his crimes on the military and his employer. How original." grumbled Casey into her fifth shot of something she no longer remembered the name of.

The trial had the possibility of going sour but that was not the thing that had put her in a bad mood. Xavier had proved to be particularly stupid that evening to announce her extreme aggravation at the French defense attorney. Relax and take a day off, indeed! What did he know about law? What did he know at all? She had a case to win!

But the concern in his voice made her feel guilty now. She had been stressing out lately, as this was such a high-profile case. He had asked her to take fewer hours at the office because of the pressure headaches she had been getting, but she had refused due to the extensive media push for her to get the case resolved. She winced at the memory of the words she had used on him that day to tell him off.

She whipped out her phone. An apology was in order.

This would have been a good idea if not for the fact that, had she been standing, she would have fallen down drunk. The phone rang a few times, then cut to the answering machine.

"You have reached John and Zita. We've apparently missed you, so if you leave your name and number, we'll call you back when we can. Thanks." Beep

"John, it's Casey, pick up, I know you're there; I need to talk to you!" Casey slurred. John? her mind asked, Try 'Xavier.' But she was too far gone to listen to her mind She continued. "John, I'm sorry I hurt you; I don't want it to end this way. I love you. Please, call me back!"

She hung up, tear of hurt and frustration rolling down her face, not-so-blissfully unaware that the call-back message left by Zita and John had caused her to say the wrong name, that voices don't sound so slurred on answering machines, and the enormous problems both of those factors would bring.

John and Zita's Townhouse

9:45 p.m.

"I can't believe you got a Spiderman Band-aid."

"What? I've always liked Spiderman. How come you got a plain one?"

"Because I'm seventeen, not eight."

John, Zita, and Luc had gone out with the Antoines for a late dinner after the paternity test. John and Zita were slightly disappointed that Warner had not been able to start the test immediately. Thirty bodies had been found in a vacant lot a week before and there was no way she would be able to get on it that night, bough she assured them that, finished identifying the cadavers or not, she would have the results before the one-month deadline.

"Age has nothing to do with it. You'll regret not having Spidey when you need a superhero."

"Uh-huh. You need to go to bed, Dad."

John tossed his coat onto the sofa and undid his cuff buttons. "I think you're right. Check the answering machine before you go to bed, will you?"

"Sure. Your pajamas are in the dryer. I tossed 'em in there this morning," Zita said, flopping down on John's recliner to wait for Luc to get home from the movie he and two of the French officers had gone to see. She turned on the TV, flipping through the channels, settling on the last fifteen minutes of a House episode, hissing "Yessss!" when it was announced that it was part of a two-day marathon. House had quickly become her favorite show since she came to the States and had managed to draw her into an addiction fiercer than Greg's addiction to vicadin.

January 14, 2004

1:00 a.m.

"You're not in bed yet?" Luc asked, coming in and leading down on the back of the recliner, causing it to fall back into a horizontal position.

Zita threw popcorn at him. "You messed up my chair, you dork."

Luc moaned when the block of commercials ended and he saw what show she was watching. "Oh, no. Not House again."

"Oh, yes. House again." she answered, grinning broadly.

"I'm going to bed. I can't stand this show."

"Fine. Go then. I see how it is." she replied in a mock-wounded tone.

"I was hopin' it'd sink in eventually."

Luc left the room, another couple pieces of popcorn hitting his back, and headed towards his room, passing through the kitchen.

"Hey, there's a message on your machine. Want me to check it?"

"Sure."

Luc pushed the button on the machine and listened with growing disbelief and shock.

"John, it's Casey, pick up, I know you're there; I need to talk to you! John, I'm sorry I hurt you; I don't want it to end this way. I love you. Please, call me back!"

Luc shook his head. He must have heard wrong. He played it again. No, the name Casey used was definitely "John." But Casey was going out with Xavier. Was it possible? Could Casey be going behind Xavier's back, and could John be low enough to help her? She seemed upset that John had broke it off, so maybe he had realized what he was doing and revealed that he had some decency. "Zita, you should hear this."

"Can it wait till a comercial?"

"I don't know. I doubt it."

Zita sighed in irritation and padded barefoot into the kitchen. "What is it?"

Luc pressed the button. "Listen to this."

Her jaw clenched tighter and red rose in her face as she listened. How could he? How could he betray Xavier like this? He had not done anything to him. How could Casey break Xavier's heart like this? How could John betray her and Bowan? Bowan had been in the grave for less than a month and John was already with Casey. How had she been so blind? It should have been so obvious.

After the message ended, Zita stood, staring silently at the black speakers.

Luc hazarded a question. "What're you gonna do?"

Zita's gaze never wavered. "Nothing tonight. I don't want to confront him when I might do or say something I'd regret."

"Are you a-"

"I'm fine, Luc. Go get some sleep."

"Are y-"

"I'm sure. There's nothing more to be done tonight."

Luc squeezed her shoulder and left, disappearing into the darkness of his room.

Zita stayed at the counter, her head in her hands. How could she have so terribly misjudged the man whom she had been living with since October? How could she have missed the fact that he was a sleaze?

And it was because of this mental beating she was giving herself that she did not hear the footsteps that came down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Zita, are you still up?"

Gulp. It was John. It looked like there would be a confrontation then, after all.

Zita turned around and leaned against the counter top in a way she hoped appeared nonchalant as a reply. "Though I don't know how you can sleep, after what you've been doing."

John was confused. "Zita, it's too early for riddles. What have I been doing?"

Zita punched the play button on the answering machine, harder than necessary.

John's expression morphed into a state of shock and even deeper confusion as he listened.

"John, it's Casey, pick up, I know you're there; I need to talk to you! John, I'm sorry I hurt you; I don't want it to end this way. I love you. Please, call me back!"

John was speechless for a couple seconds. "Zita, whatever's going through your head, I-"

"You know, it might not be all that bad if you were dating someone to fill the hole in your life that my mom left – I could understand that. You're still grieving and maybe someone else helps take the pain away for a while –"

"Zita -"

"But you go and start something with Casey, knowing full-well that she and Xavier were together? What has Xavier done to either of you to get you two to turn on him like this?"

"Zita, Casey and I haven't done anything! This is a mistake!"

"The evidence is right in front of you! You can deny it all you want, but the evidence is right there. That's Casey's cell number and John's your name. Where's the way out for you?"

John sighed, "Zita, I know you don't believe me, but I haven't done anything."

"So, what, am I supposed to just take you at your word?"

"Yes. Zita, I have never lied to you and I don't intend to. What reason would I . . ." he sighed again, "What do I have to do to get you to believe me?"

Zita rested her face in her hand. "I don't know. I . . . don't know. I'm going to bed."

She brushed past him, moving at a determined pace towards the stairs.

John called after her. "Zita?"

Half-way up the stairs, Zita turned around, the anger and hurt seeming to have left her face to be replaced by an emotionless stare. "Goodnight, John." she said quietly then turned back around and walked the rest of the way to her room.

John collapsed in a chair at the kitchen table. She had not called him "John" in days and he found that his first name on her lips hurt more than any bullet.

"Oh, Bowan." he whispered to the dark as twin tears rolled down his face. "Where are you?"