Infinity

TITLE: Infinity (3/?)

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. If no one likes what or how I’m writing, then I should stop

                      posting. But if you do like . . . then let me know so I will keep going.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER THREE

            So that’s what he was up to yesterday, thought Fin. Upon returning from the
fileroom, he had wondered at the time what the cryptic message left on his desk by Munch
had meant. But when John got back, he had such a gleam in his eyes (a sure sign of mischief
for his partner) that Fin was afraid to ask. But now he knew. The niece. Fin watched them
for a few moments. He was guessing that by the way they were joking and playing off one
another, they must be close. They even had some of the same mannerisms, like the way they
both tilted their heads forward when they thought they were saying something particularly
clever. Must be nice, he thought, to have that kind of family. He wondered why Munch had
never mentioned her. In the five years that they’ve been partners, John had managed to give
him extensive details, whether he wanted them or not, about each of his four ex-wives, as
well as about his brother and other family members. But he had never mentioned a niece.
Strange considering John’s love of hearing himself talk, and the fact that he obviously liked
the girl. I’ll have to ask him about that, he thought.

            Captain Cragen’s thoughts, however, were lesnialnial. He was more than a little
vexed that his detective had kept this bit of information from him.

            “You never told us you had a niece, John. Especially not one in the FBI.”

            Sam turned to her uncle, arms folded across her chest, with mock annoyance on her
face.

            “Oh ry?&#y?” John nearly laughed, “I didn’t? Well, remember when I mentioned that I
had a cousin who was a G-man? Substitute niece for cousin, and woman for man. And I
didn’t mention that she was coming because I wasn’t sure if she would. She sometimes gets
called away on assignments at the last minute. Besides, I would have missed out on thricericeless looks on your faces if you had known who she was beforehand.”

            Cragen did not appear to be amused.

            “It’s really my fault, “ Sam explained, coming to her uncle’s defense. “I asked him
not to mention it. I thought our careers would both do better if no one knew we were
related.”

            How so? Cragen wondered, but moved onto what he considered a more important
point.

            “No disrespect to you, Agent Munch-Sam- but we were told that we’d be getting
someone with a lot more years under her belt. Somewithwith more experience.”

            “I assure you, Captain, everything you read in my file is not only accurate, it’s also
true.”

            “I don’t see how that could be,” Elliot interjected. “Your file says you’ve been with
the bureau for nearly ten s.&#s.”

            “And?” Sam asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

            “And you look barely old enough to be out of high school, let alone the academy in
Langley.”

            Sam studied Elliot for a few seconds before responding. John, watching her,
recognized the look in her eyes. Oh boy, he smiled inwardly, here we go.

            “Well, Detective Stabler, for the record: I am twenty-four years old and have been
with the bureau for exactly nine years, eight months, fifteen days, and . . . ,” looks at her
watch, “five hours. Give or take a few minutes. During that time I have amassed a great
deal more ‘experience’ than most people would in a lifetime. As this is now a federal case,
I’m here at my uncle’s request to lend my knowledge, skills, and talent, and rest assured they
are considerable, to helping his unit with a case that is kicking your collective butts. And no
disrespect to you or your detectives, Captain,” she said turning to face him, “but what does it
matter how old I am? Experience is not dictated by a person’s number of years, so because I
have few of one does not, by any means, impart that I have little of the other.”

            Oh yeah, Fin thought, she’s a Munch all right.

            There were a few ses ofs of stunned silence as the group tried to reconcile the
affable, laughing girl who was there a few minutes ago, with the annoyed young woman who
was before them now. For his part, Munch was beaming like a proud father.

 

            “I’m sure that’s not what Detective Stabler meant to infer.” Cragen broke the
silence.

  0;�         “Imply,” both Sam and Munch answered simultaneously. They glanced at each other,
then laughed lly.

“I beg your pardon?”

            Detective Munch threw an arm out toward Sam and backed away, indicating the floor
was hers.

            “Imply. You said ‘that’s not what Det. Stabler meant to infer’ when, since he was the
speaker, you should have said ‘that’s not what he meant to imply’. I, on the other hand,
apparently incorrectly inferred what he did not imply.”

            Definitely a Munch, Fin sighed to himself.

            “In any case,” Sam was saying, “can we discuss the case over lunch?” she asked
Munch. “I’m starving.” Then, turning to Cragen, “If you have any questions about my
qualifications, Captain,” she said in an effort to assure them, as she and Munch headed for
the door, “you could ask your Dr. Huang about them. I̵suresure he’ll vouch for me.”

            “You know George Huang?” Munch asked.

            “We worked together a few times.”

            “How come I didn’t know that?”

&;
           “What? You think I tell you everything?”

            “Yes.”

Sam laughed. “You’re right. I do. Only I call him G.”

            “Dr. Huang is G. . . . ?”

            Fin listened to their conversation as they headed out. He wasn’t sure it was going to
be easier having their Fed be Munch’s niece. Sometimes one Munch was bad enough. Now
he’d have to deal with two of them.

             Don’t get him wrong. He really liked his partner. He secretly admired just how
smart and opinionated John was, though he would never admit that to the man himself. Over
the years they had developed an easy friendship that didn’t have a lot of hang-ups or
complications like some other people he knew. He counted John among one of his better
friends. John was, in fact, his best friend. They might not hang out a lot, or even like the
same things, but John had always been there when he needed him. He recalled the occasions
when he had called his partner in the middle of the night or came by his apartment to talk.
Talking helped him deal with all the crap he had to put up with every day, at work and at
home. Lately, though, it was more home than work. His problem was finding someone he
trusted enough to talk to. His business was his business. No one else’s. He didn’t want to
hear anything about himself floating around the station house. He hated gossip.

            Munch had asked Fin to trust him, and one particularly difficult night he did. Fin
unburdened a lot of anger and guilt about things he hadn’t talked to anyone about ever. He
felt better afterward, and true to his promise, John never told a soul. Not as far as he knew,
anyway. Fin had even trusted John enough to tell him about his Peace: the place in his head
where he went when he really needed a break from his life. He would shut his eyes and
concentrate on the one thing he knew would truly make him happy. If he concentrated long
and hard enough, eventually he would begin to hear it: The sound of children laughing. His
children as they scampered and played with the wife he knew was there with them. He
would listen to that sound, and whatever he had been feeling before would melt away. He
was happy. He was at peace. And always, near the end, he would hear her voice, “Are you
happy, Baby?” Then it was over, and he would have to go back to his reality. But it was
enough to sustain him until the next time he needed to talk.

             Since then, it has become standard policy for either of them to just call or stop by
whenever stuff got to be too much and they needed to unload. No quest ask asked. The
door, or phone, was always open. Sometimes those talks lasted until the next day, and they
would have to drag their butts back to the station house with little or no sleep. But Munch
never complained. He knew Fin wouldn’t be there unless he needed to be. He felt the same
way.

            “Hey, Tutuola!” Fin looked up to see John and Sam watching him expectantly.
“You coming, or what?”

            “Yeah, I guess,” Fin said reluctantly. He couldn’t let them know he wanted to join
them, could he? “I’ll drive.”

            “No way, “ Sam protested. “I know what detectives can afford. I’ll drive.” She
took off before either of them could argue.

            “Pushy, ain’t she?” Fin asked, not sure whether to be insulted or amused.

            “With a nickname like Princess? Ya think?”