Infinity

TITLE: Infinity (9B/?)

AUTHOR: Master F&M

FANDOM: Law and Order: SVU

RATING: Everything from PG to R—just like life.

SUMMARY: A Fin fic— to give him a life that the show refuses to give him

DISCLAIMER: L&O: SVU and all its characters belong to Dick Wolf, NBC, and whomever

                          else puts the show out for our enjoyment. I just get to play with them.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Sam is a character of my own creation. She does not exist on the show.

FEEDBACK: Please give some. For entertainment purposes only.

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..........  “You must really miss her.”

            “Yeah, I do.”

 

CHAPTER 9B

            Sam studied his expression for a moment. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

        
#160#160;  Fin looked up at her and shrugged. “You can ask. It don’t mean I’m gonna answer.”

            “Fair enough. I guess I’m wondering why you don’t get along with the rest of your
family.”

            “Who says I don’t?”

            “Well, no one says it exactly. You never talk about them, though, like you do your
grandmother. And the one time I heard Uncle John say something about them, you kind of blew
it off. Call it my keen Munch sense of observation, but I thoug sen sensed some tension there.
Was I right?”

            “They do their thing, and I do mine.”

            “A vague if not cryptic answer.”

            “And the only one there’s gonna be. Besides, what about you?”

            “What about me?” Sam asked in surprise.

            “I’ve never heard you talk about anyone other than that crazy uncle of yours.”

            “Okay, first of all, he’s not crazy. He’s eccentric. It happens to be a trait all geniuses
share. But I digress.” She paused and took a breath. “Let’s see. My grandmother was . . .
mmm, let’s call it difficult. She didn’t get along with anyone. Not even her own children. And I
never knew my grandfather. He took his own life when my dad was still a kid.”

            Fin looked shocked. “John never told me anything about that.”

            an>&an>“No, I guess he wouldn’t. He took it personally, so it was really hard on him. I suppose I
shouldn’t have said anything about it either.”

            “Don’t worry. I won’t mention it unless he brings it up first.”

            “I’d appreciate that.”

            Fin got up to refresh their tea. He thought about how his partner had carried his secret
around throughout all the suicide cases they’d worked and never said a word about it. Even
though Fin considered him a good friend, he didn’t think he’d ever get a real handle on Munch.
Just when Fin thought he’d had him pegged, John would do something that threw him again. At
least his partner could never be accused of being dull.

            “What about your folks?” Fin asked sitting down again.

            pan>pan>“My mother passed away when I was really young. I can hardly remember her anymore,
though I’m told I look a lot like her. My dad was . . . is I suppose . . . busy.”

            Fin nodded in understanding of her choice of words. “So it’s been just you and Munch?”

            “Pretty much. Unless you want to count the bobbleheads, which I don’t.”

            “Bobbleheads,” Fin laughed lightly. “I can just see you being the worst kind of brat.”

            “I was not!” she protested, “but what exactly is the worst kind?”

            “The smart ones. They always think of clever little ways to torture people.”

            “Hey, compared to the bobbleheads, anyone would seem smart.” Sam shook her head in
confusion. “Obvious assets aside, I could never understand why he wanted to marry them. I still
don’t get it.”

            “Get what?”

            “Why people willingly set themselves up for torment by getting married.”

            Now it was Fin’s turn to study Sam’s expression. “You’re a little too young to be
thinking that way, ain’t you? Most people tend to be at least in their thirties before they get
cynical.”

            She frowned at him. “You know, I really hate it when people bring up my age. I’m old
enough to know it’s something I never want to do. Why bother? In the end you wind up hating
each otherd eid either get divorced, or stay together anyway. You could do that without all the
legal hassles. It’s a lose/lose situation no matter how you look at it.”

            Fin was taken aback by her intensity, though considering her closeness to Munch and his
track record with wives, Fin guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised she’d feel that way.

            “You mean to tell me you’ve never been in a relationship with someone you wanted to
marry?”

            Sam blushed andcklyckly looked down into her cup. “I didn’t say that.” She looked up
again and added softly, “As it turned out, it was best that it didn’t happen anyway. I learned my
lesson: trust no one.”

            “Spoken like a true Munch.”

            “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

            “So what was his name?” Fin asked after a beat, comprehension dawning on him.

            “Who?”

     
#160#160;     “The guy who changed you on the concept of marriage.”

            Sam took a drink, obviously stalling to give an answer.

            “Never mind, Sam. I didn’t mean to pry.”

            She set her cup down on the table, and ran a finger around its rim. “His name was Mark.
Mark Kingsley. I was 19 and he was 26. We got engaged after going out for three months. I
know, I know. It was stupid. But I was young and naive, and actually thought I was going to
live happily ever after.

            The engagement itself lasted merely a month. That’s when I found out that he first asked
me out because of a bet he made that he could get me into bed, and only proposed when he got a
good look at my bank account. My mother’s life insurance policy was still sitting in it. I guess he
thought he might as well share in the wealth.” She laughed sarcastically. “At least he got the
money from his bet, though, huh?”

            Fin wasn’t sure what to say, so he settled for saying nothing.

            “Don’t get me wrong, Detective. I don’t think all men are like that. I just don’t think it’s
worth the trouble of trying to weed through the ones that are.” She smiled sheepishly. “It’s just
safer to not deal with anyone.”

 

Yeah, Fin thought, but it doesn’t make you happy. He noticed her looking at him.
“What?”

            “If you’re so pro-marriage, why don’t you have a wife and kids?” She asked. “Or did
you?”

            “I never said I was for it. I just wondered why you weren’t. And no, I ain’t never been
married, but I do have a son,” he admitted reluctantly, getting to his feet.

            “You have a little boy?”

            “Yeah. I mean, no. He’s a grown man now.” Fin said the last statement as if he still
couldn’t believe it was true. “It’s getting late. I should get going.”

            “Yeah, okay. I should probably be getting some sleep myself.” She walked him to the
door. “Listen, thanks for the tea and everything. I feel absolutely better. It was really nice of
you.”

            “No big deal. Just don’t go eating any more old leftovers.”

            “Never again. And I owe you, so if you want another chance to actually watch a game,
just give me a call. Or I could make you dinner again.”

            “I don’t know,” he said warily. “Eating around here might be dangerous. I don’t want to
end up hugging the porcelain like you were earlier.”

    0;�       “That is so wrong on so many levels,” she deadpanned. “But you go ahead. Make fun of
thek pek person.”

            “You look alright to me.” He turned and stepped out the door. “But I do know this little
club that has good music and good food. I’ll let you treat me to dinner there where it’s safe.”

            “Gee, thanks.”

            “No problem. ‘Night.”

            “Goodnight, Detective221;221;

     &;
      Fin waved from the elevator as Sam closed her door. He waited for the sound of the lock
clicking into place before he started down. When he reached the lobby, he took out his phone and
punched in Munch’s number.

            “Hello?” John answered sleepily.

            “Don’t tell me I woke you,” Fin grinned into the phone. “It’s barely past . . . ” he looked
at his watch, “11:30. Only old people go to bed before midnight.” He heard the sound of John
blowing out his breath and grinned even more.

            “Did you want something, Tutuola? “

            ”Just to tell you about Sam. She’s sick.”

            There was a pause. “She was fine earlier. What did you do to her?”

            “Man, I didn’t do anything. She ate some bad food and it did a number on her stomach. I
think she was okay when I left, but you might want tock ock on her in the morning.”

            “K. I’ll do that. See you tomorrow.” John hung up the phone and fell back onto the bed,
thinking, Now wasn’t that sweet?