Infinity

TITLE: Infinity (22/?)

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 showshow 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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CHAPTER 22

            George Huang sat in the diner across from the FBI building. He scanned the items on the
lunch menu while he waited, though he’d eaten there so many times before that he knew the entire
menu by heart.

            He looked up when a car pulled into the parking space across from his window seat. He
smiled a little when he saw Sam. She wasn’t exactly dressed for the office anymore. Now in
fitted jeans and a cropped blouse, she must have gone home first to change before meeting him
here. Sam locked the car door and headed for the entrance.

            “Hey.” She slid into the empty seat at his booth. George noticed that she’d taken to
using Tutuola’s preferred choice of greeting.

            “Sorry I’m late. I wanted to change before I got here.”

            “You didn’t have to do that for me,” he smiled, knowing full well that she hadn’t.

            “Actually, I’m meeting Fin after lunch. We took the rest of the day off and are heading
out to D.C. to do a little research.”

            “Oh? Anything I can help you with?”

            “No, it’s just a little personal project. We’re trying to find information on an author Fin
might be related to.”

            “I see. And this required a wardrobe change?”

            “It wasn’t required,” she grinned sheepishly, “but I wanted to be comfortable; and to look,
you know, less like an agent and more like a girl?” She stood up and spun around. “What do
you think?”

     &#      George gave her an appraising stare. “I’d do you,” he said louder than was necessary.
Several heads from the next booth popped up and looked at her. Sam slunk back into her seat.

            “Someday I’m going to learn to not give you an opening like that.”

            George laughed. “Well, I had to do something. You’ve been wearing that goofy grin all
day and it was starting to make my face hurt.”

            “What grin?”

            “The you you’re wearing again right now.” He ducked his head and peered at her. “You
slept with him, didn’t you?”

&;
           Sam laughed out loud. “What makes you say that?”

            “Let’s see . . . the grin, wanting to look like a girl while you17;r17;re with him, your inability to
sit still . . . ” Sam stopped moving. “I’d say, “ he continued, “it all adds up.”

            “Or you could just be wrong.”

            “Oh, come on,” he teased. “You know all I have to do is say his name and it’s all over.”
He paused for effect. “Tutu . . . ”

            “Okay, okay,” she laughed. “Guilty as charged. Happy?”

            “You certainly are.”

   &#        “I can’t help it. Fin’s so sweet and beautiful and sexy,” she rolled her eyes, “and I know
I’m gushing and it’s disgusting, but he’s just so . . . yummylicious.”

            “Yummylicious, huh? Well, I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.” He nodded
his head toward her. “But I’m happy that you’re happy.”

            She nodded back. “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome. I guess this means you’ve put in a request for a permanent transfer?”

        &#   Sam looked down at her menu. “Not yet.”

            George looked at his friend through a psychiatrist’s eye. It was probably time she dealt
with her problem. He knew she had difficulty seriously committing to anything since her decision
to marry Mark had turned into such a disaster. He also knew that he was partly to blame (though
her uncle’s four failed marriages probably had a larger effect on her), but there was no way he
could have let her marry that loser. He was sure he’d done the right thing back then, but it had
made Sam feel like she’d put what she’d called ‘the Munch family curse’ to the test, and that it
had won. What she needed was to move on and to learn how to have faith again. He’d hoped
that her relationship with Tutuola would have helped her to do just that.

            “You know, “ he started, trying not to sound judgmental, “if I was a psychiatrist, I might
say that you have some commitment issues.”

            “George, you are a psychiatrist.”

            “Ahhh.”

            “Cute, but I don’t have issues. I commit all the time. Look. I’m committing to meatloaf
for lunch.” She waved the waitress over and gave her order. George did the same.

            “How long did it take you to decide on a car to buy?” George asked once the waitress was
gone.

            “Hey, a car is a big deal. I wanted to make sure I got the right one. And besides, lots of
people take a while before buying a car.”

            “Most people don’t take years.”

            “Okay, so I procrastinated. So what? Look at my apartment. I bought that in less than
forty-eight hours.”

            “But that was on impulse. I seriously doubt you would have, if you had had time to think
about it.” He leaned across the table toward her. “And this isn’t about buying things.”

            “No? Then what is this about, doctor? Because if I remember correctly, I invited you to
lunch, not to a couch session.”

            George backed off. He knew he wouldn’t accomplish anything with her on the defensive.
“I’m only trying to help, Sam.”

            She looked at him, then patted his hand. “And it’s very kind of you to care, but I don’t
need any help. I’m fine.”

            George let it drop. He didn’t want to become confrontational, but it didn’t stop him from
thinking that it would be best if she dealt with this sooner than later.

................................................. 

            Fin waited outside the station house for Sam to arrive. She’d called to say she was
minutes away, and he’d told her he’d meet her out here. He was really looking forward to this
trip. As much as he loved the city, it was nice to occasionally get away from it.

            Fin was glad Sam had told him about researching Amos Tutuola’s family history for him.
It showed she was thinking about what he might want, instead of just plowing ahead on her own.
He appreciated it and wanted to go along, so they’d decided to make a day of it.

            He was also glad that his partner wasn’t there to see them off. Munch hadn’t given him a
moment’s peace over the past couple of days. Every chance he got, he made some vague
reference to Fin’s love life. Nothing vulgar or dirty (it was his niece after all), but enough to let
everyone know he knew something about it. And of course Fin couldn’t say anything back. That
would only give Munch more fuel. Why did I ever show myself at Sam’s like that? he thought.
What the hell was I thinking?

            ‘You KNOW what you were thinking,’ his conscience answered. ‘You were thinking you
didn’t like that she left you to go see about him, and that she’d taken off your shirt to do it. You
were being petty and jealous, and you wanted to show him that she was with you now.’

            Fin sighed. His personal Jiminy Cricket was right. He had no one to blame but himself.
He hadn’t really been thinking, only reacting. Being with Sam brought out feelings he hadn’t
experienced in a while, both good and bad. He’d have to learn how to deal with them again, or
he’d have to suffer more of Munch’s brand of torture.

            Fin walked down to the curb as Sam pulled up. She got out of the car and handed him the
keys. Fin had agreed to do all of the driving if they could use her car for the trip. Sam was happy
to oblige. It gave her the opportunity to relax and just watch him. Lately, she found everything
he did to be very sexy.

            “I’m going to run in really quick and say hi to Uncle Munch, okay?” She headed for the
steps.

            “He’s not here.” Fin stood holding the passenger’s side door open. Sam turned around
and got in.

            “He’s not?”

            “Nope. He called out sick again. Said he had a rash he needed to have examined.” Fin
climbed in and gave her a quick kiss.

            “ou aou ask me, though, I think he needs to have his head examined.”

            Sam laughed. “I assure you, Detective, my uncle is not crazy. You can check with any of
his shrinks to confirm that.”

            Fin smiled as they drove off. “Well, I hope that whatever he really does when he calls out
is at least doing somebody some good.”

            Sam sat back. If you only knew . . .  

.............................................................

      㺼&60;    Munch sat outside Langdell Hall on the Harvard Law School campus in Massachusetts.
He looked at the name on his notepad again: Dorian Tate. This was the fourth and final Dorian
on his list for this trip. This one had also been the most difficult to track down. John had made
several trips to his apartment before a roommate finally told him Dorian was studying here in the
library. As a first year law student, he was apparently taking his studies very seriously. What are
the odds, John thought to himself, that Fin’s son would choose a career in the same field that his
father had rejected? And if this was the right Dorian, then how much of that had to do with his
mother?

            Munch looked at his watch. It was starting to get late and he had a three and a half hour
ride back to New York ahead of him. He was glad that he had taken the train from Penn station.
At least he wouldn’t have to drive.

            John scrutinized a group of people leaving the building. None of them fit the description
Dorian’s roommate had given him. He’d thought about going into the building and taking a look
around for himself, but with four floors, the place was huge. He’d have a better chance of
catching the kid if he waited for him to come out.

 

            Munch thought about how he’d almost cancelled this trip out of spite. He hadn’t been
particularly happy with Fin flaunting the fact that he was sleeping with Sam.

            ‘What did you think was going to happen?’ the little devil on his shoulder taunted. ‘You
brought them together thinking they’d do what, hold hands for the rest of their lives?’

            Munch had to admit that he really hadn’t given any thought to that aspect of any
relationship between them. Who would? No one wants to think about their kid having a sex life.
He supposed he had just skipped over that part and went straight to imagining the happily ever
after.

            He also had to be fair to Fin. His partner has been nothing but a gentleman toward Sam,
even with the guys at the precinct riding him.

            ‘And even with you on his case every day.’ Munch knocked the devil off his shoulder and
made a mental note to lay off Fin. Not completely, mind you (where would be the fun in that?),
but just enough so Fin could stop grinding his teeth whenever he saw Munch coming.

            He looked up as another group exited the library. His eyes immediately locked onto one
of the students in the group. Bingo. John stood up as the group approached.

    㺼&60;      “Excuse me,” he directed toward the student. “You’re Dorian, right? Dorian Tate, born
Dorian Tutuola?”

            The young man narrowed his eyes. “And you are?” he asked suspiciously.

            “I’m John Munch,” he couldn’t withhold the grin any longer, “and you, young man, are
the spitting image of your father.”