John Munch is a cynical man. He has been that way for years, but he is even more cynical right now. Nevertheless, nobody bothers to ask why he is this way. They don't because he doesn't cry about his life and he doesn't sit at home, day and night, wondering why life dealt him such a crappy hand. He does his job, and he does it well. That's why they don't ask. It's why no one asks why he's a cynical, emotionally closed, and guarded man. If they did, however, John Munch might tell them a story.
A story of a little boy who had so much love, hope and dreams that he thought the world was a loving and beautiful place. A little boy whose life had dealt him a crappy hand, and who now strived for the acceptance in a cold, hostile world. And of a little boy who dreamt of being a hero; who fought dragons and monsters and rescued beautiful princesses.
Then as time moved on, the boy's hope, which had sheltered him like a blanket, was snatched away. Piece by piece until nothing was left, and the boy had surrounded and protected himself with a wall of words. Death came in all sorts for the boy, but it always carried two constants; guilt and silence. They stayed with him until the boy grew into a man. A man that was so beaten, broken and destroyed that letting go of either the guilt or silence was nearly impossible.
And that described John Munch perfectly until a few years ago. Until Olivia.
She was the new semblance of family for him. She was the little sister he never had, and she did what nobody else had cared to do. She talked to him. He still remembers the night on the rooftop vividly. It was the place where he had first let go of the silence and confessed to her about Emily McKenna, and the little girl across the road. The emotion that he felt that night, after almost half a century of keeping it inside, was almost unbearable. If Olivia had not been there, he would still be the same cynical, crippled man he used to be. From then on, John Munch had hope. She had given him a piece of what was so cruelly snatched from him as a child. That was the gift that she had given him; the gift of letting go.
And then she too was brutally ripped away. In a split second, she was gone forever and he was alone. Back to the same depressed, emotionally stunted, and cynical man he had always been. But now he has a family, a place of sanctuary that he can come to for comfort. As he watches the room around him, he knows that he needs his family more than ever now; they depended on each other to survive. It would make Olivia happy to hear that, he thinks. And that's enough reason for him to let down his wall altogether.