Infinity

TITLE: Infinity (7/?)

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.

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CHAPTER 7

            Sam hummed to herself as she prepared dinner. She’d forgotten how much she actually
enjoyed cooking in her own kitchen. Try as she might, once Uncle Munch had left Baltimore, it
never did feel quite like home anymore. She had preferred the ratty old kitchen in his apartment
to the state-of-the-art setups in the places the Bureau had put her up in while she worked her
cases. She hadn’t even minded moving around from city to city, since it was only during the
downtime at work that she was reminded of the fact that she no longer had a home to go back to.
She really did miss those quiet Sunday mornings spent reading the paper at their tiny kitchen
table. Munch had called it cozy. She’d called it crappy, but missed it when it was gone,
nonetheless.

            When her locator had found the penthouse, she’d snapped it up immediately. Sure, it was
expensive, but she definitely wanted a home base here in New York with Munch. It even had a
suite that she’d decided she would give him, so he’d have his own space when he stayed over.

            Sam lowered the temperature on the sauce she had been stirring, then began setting the
table. She’d been a little surprised when Munch called to say he was bringing his partner along
for dinner. She didn’t really mind, although she had wanted to talk to him about whomever he
was seeing. He didn’t think she knew about it, but Sam knew that John Munch only wore
cologne when he went acourtin’, and lately he’d been reeking of it. After his last divorce he had
jokingly agreed with her: There would not be another Mrs. Munch unless she met with Sam’s
approval first. She knew her uncle had only been kidding her at the time, but she intended to hold
him to it and uncover some facts about this new mystery woman. Maybe he’d be more
forthcoming with his partner present.

            Detective Tutuola seemed nice enough. Quite interesting actually, with all that brooding
and scowling. She smiled as she remembered the afternoon the three of them had spent together.
He had a pretty good sense of humor, too, if you got how to read him. And Munch seemed to
really like him, so he had to be okay..

            She left the kitchen and did a quick walkthrough of the living areas of the apartment. It
was way bigger than any place she had ever lived in before, and she was still getting used to the
number of rooms it held. Her eyes scanned the rooms, looking for any unmentionables or
anything else that she might be embarrassed for them to see. Though she was still unpacking, and
the place was far from being put together, it didn’t take much imagination to see that it was
beautiful.

            Not bad, she thought. Not bad at all for a nerdy kid with no friends.

         
#160#160; Since she’d spent most of her teenage years in the company of adults, it had been difficult
for her to relate to kids her own age. She was better at dealing with people now, but still
preferred to keep her number of friends and acquaintances to a minimum. Life just seemed to be
simpler that way. 

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    㼠160;      Fin grew restless in the elevator on the way up to the penthouse. He didn’t know why,
but he was suddenly getting a little nervous. Something about being in places like this always
made him uneasy. A memory of the Carvers tried to focus in his mind, but he quickly shut it out.
That was the last thing he needed.

            “Problem, Tutuola?”

            Fin looked up to see Munch wondering at the scowl that must have been on his face.

            “Hey, if you don’t want to be here, then by all means leave. I’m not forcing you to stay,”
he said, hoping Fin wouldn’t call him on his bluff.

            “Nah, that ain’t it. It’s just . . . forget it. We’re here.” Fin stepped out of the elevator as
it came to a stop, eliminating any further need for an explanation. He looked at the door directly
opposite the elevator labeled ‘PH’, down the length of the hall, then back at the door.

            “You gotta be kidding me! This apartment takes up the whole floor?” He shook his head.
“Must be nice.”

            “Yes, it is. Quite. Can we go in now?” Munched asked, gesturing toward the door. He
stepped up and rang the doorbell.

            Sam answered the door looking somewhat surprised.

            “Hey! Come on in,” she said, stepping back to give them room to enter. “You’re a little
early. I haven’t had time to change yet.”

            “No need to get all fancied up for us,” Munch answered. “You remember my partner,
don’t you?”

            “Of course. Nice to see you again, Detective.”

            “Thanks, and you can call me Fin.”

            “Okay, then. Fin.”

            She addressed both of them. “I’m going to get cleaned up and change. Dinner will be
ready in a few. Sorry about the mess,” she said, waving a hand toward the boxes piled around.
“But if you go through there,” pointing in the direction of a room, “there’s a great view you can
take in.”

            She smiled, then walked off through what Fin figured was the living room. Watching her
go, he couldn’t help but notice the way the sweats she was wearing hung low on her hips,
accentuating the curves of her rounded behind.

            Nice, he thought to himself. He always did like a girl with some junk in the trunk.

            “Nice, huh?”

            Fin swirled around and found Munch smirking at him.

            “What?”

            “The apartment? It’s nice, right? It cost a small fortune, but it’s only the second thing
she’s ever really spent money on - the first being that deathtrap of a car you so openly admired
yesterday.”

            Fin grunted then went off to enjoy the view. He was still wondering how it would feel to
live so high above the city when Sam returned and announced dinner was ready. He immediately
noticed that she had exchanged her sweats for a pair of jeans, and decided they took nothing away
from the view of her he’d admired earlier.

            Dinner passed pleasantly, peppered with bits of reminiscing and retelling of old stories.
They also discussed how, it turned out, the mothers of all the victims in their case once lived in
the same brownstone in Brooklyn. They speculated over what that meant, and how next to
proceed. For the most part, Fin was content to let the other two carry the conversation, and took
the time to savor Sam’s cooking. It had been a while since he’d had a homecooked meal, and
truth be told, hers wasn’t too bad.

            Sam observed that Munch, however, was only picking at his food and seemed a little
preoccupied.

            “What’s up, Munch? Don’t tell me you don’t like my spaghetti anymore.”

            “No. I mean . . . It’s just that I was sort of expecting a phone call.”

            “Oh really? Who from?”

            “From whom. And none of your beeswax.”

            “Oh, please!” She laughed. “You don’t really think you’re fooling anyone, do you?”

  &#         “What?” He asked innocently.

            Sam gave him a look that clearly said she wasn’t buying it. “You know what. Or should I
say whom? So you might as well just spill it. Who is she?”

            Fin’s head snapped in Munch’s direction at her last question. “Come again? Don’t tell me
there’s a future Ex #5 in the picture. How the hell did I miss that?”

            “He can be fairly sneaky when he wants to be.”

            They both gave Munch accusing looks. Fortunately for him, his cell phone rang at that
moment and he practically ran from the table to answer it. When he returned a few seconds later,
he half-heartedly apologized and announced he was leaving. Sam demanded to know who his
date was, but all he would give her was a first name: Tori.

            “Come on. You could at least tell me her full name.”

            “No way, Princess. If I gave you that, you’d work your computer mojo, and in no time at
all you’d have her whole life’s story in print. Next, there’d be an interrogation and, well,” he
shrugged, “we wouldn’t wthatthat, now would we?”

            “Ciao,” he called over his shoulder as he turned to leave the room. “I’ll see myself out.”

            Fin started to rise from the table. “I should go, too.”

            Munch quickly turned around again. “Don’t leave on my account. I’ll never hear the end
of it if her dessert goes uneaten.”

            “Yes, Fin. Stay. If my uncle rudely wants to leave, then let him. No reason why OUR
dinner has to be ruined.”

            Fin sat down again, unsure if he was about to witness a family squabble.

            Munch tilted his head forward and peered at Sam over the rim of his glasses. “Glad you
see things my way.” Looking over at Fin he added, “See you tomorrow, partner. Don’t be late,”

then left.

            Sam looked after him for a few seconds, then turned to Fin. She laughed at the look on
his face.

            “Relax, Detective. He knows me better than to think I’m actually upset. I have to at least
pretend to object though, don’t I? Tell you what. Why don’t we have dessert in the other room
and catch the news or a movie or something? I feel like I owe you since Munchie ran out on
you.”

          㼠160;‘That’s cool, but I don’t need a babysitter.”

            “Right. Got it. Fin does not need sitter.” She pretended to pull a notepad out of her
pocket and jot it down.

            “You’re nuts.”

            “Runs in the family.”

            “Tell me about it.”

            They both chuckled and got up from the table. Sam invited Fin to go ahead and see what
was on while she brought in the pie. Leaving the kitchen, he walked through the living room, the
sitting room with the great view, and into the next. Sam found him there, a few minutes later,
practically paying homage to the 60" screen TV. She watched him for a little while, amused at
how excited men seemed to get over electronic gadgets, before he saw her.

            “Damn, girl! This is a fly system.”

            “It came with the place. I guess the previous owners thought it was too big to move. I
figure it’ll be good for watching Knicks games.”

            “Hey, you name when, and I’m here.”

            “I’ll keep that in mind. You know what else it’s great for? Sci-fi movies. If you sit close
enough, it’s almost like you’re in space.”

            “You got any ‘Star Wars’?”

            “All five.”

 

            “Well, pop one in and let’s check it out.”

            Sam moved over to the DVD player, then looked at Fin skeptically. “Do you actually like
‘Star Wars’?”

            “Heck, yeah! All that lightsaber stuff was cool. And Han Solo used to trip me out.
How’d he always know what Chewbacca was saying, anyway? I swear my grandmother used to
know some of that Jedi mind trick stuff, too.”

            Sam laughed. “You know what I always wondered about, though?” she asked as they sat
down to watch. “Princess Leia. Remember how in ‘Return of the Jedi’ you find out that she and
Luke Skywalker are twins? Well, how come she doesn’t have any Jedi powers? What’s that all
about?”

            “A girl Jedi?” Fin sneered at the thought, “that don’t seem right.”

            “What are you, sexist?”

            They watched the remainder of the movie, laughing and commenting on it and whatever
else came to mind. The time went quickly, and when the movie was over, Fin got up to leave.
Sam walked him to the door. There were an awkward few seconds as neither of them quite knew
how to end the evening.

            “Hey, listen,” Sam spoke up first. “I’ll give you a call the next time the Knicks are going
to be on.”

            “Yeah. Yeah. Do that. Thanks.”

            “No problem. You guys will touch base with me tomorrow about the case?”

            “Sure. We’ll keep you posted. ‘Night.”

            “‘Night.”

            That was fun, Sam thought as she locked up for the night. He’s not too bad.

            She ain’t half bad, Fin was thinking as he rode the elevator down. Too bad she’s a
Munch.

            Too bad, too, he couldn’t stop the erection in his pants from growing when he thought
about her in those sweats again.