Fractured

Author note:

This story is AU. It is set around the time of Season 2. This is a Munch fic. The Pairings are Munch/OC also with some EO.

Summary:

When Cragen gets a call to inform him a prisoner has been released, Munch is called into his office to be offered protection, because convicted sex offender, Russian born Vik Dimitry once vowed, when released,to kill the cop who arrested him – and that cop was John Munch, who had handled the case back in his days with Homicide. But Munch dismisses his fears, assuming Vik will do nothing to jeopardise his new found freedom.

Then Munch attends a reading and book signing by celebrated English poet Lisa Linton, and from that meeting grows a passionate love affair as John Munch falls heavily for the fragile and often unstable writer-despite attempts by her agent Greg Volkov to come between them.

Then a rape is reported that bears all the hallmarks of Dimitry, with some additional disturbing facts emerging that suggests perhaps the killer has moved on from rape and murder to filming the depraved acts to be sold on the underground market. But lack of proof at the crime scene leaves Alex Cabot unable to build a credible case, and as the team continue to wait for the perp to make another move, they learn Dimitry has been shot dead and the murder seems to indicate a gangland killing - and then the case goes cold, and John Munch forgets all about the threats once made by the late Vik Dimitry.

Munch continues his love affair with Lisa, as neither realise that Dimitry was linked closely to Greg Volkov, who is secretly hatching a plan that will involve eliminating Lisa's new police detective lover...

When Munch goes missing, the link between Dimitry and Greg is uncovered, and after the team track down Greg Volkov, it is almost too late for Munch, who has been beaten and left with life threatening injuries.

Then Benson and Stabler have no choice but to bring her in for questioning – and after it becomes clear that fragile Lisa can offer no information, she is finally released. But with Greg refusing to talk and Munch facing a long recovery, a vital piece of evidence is missing - and only Lisa can unlock the mystery to its whereabouts, if Liv can help her to remember...

But it soon becomes clear to Liv that Lisa is not coping as well as she claims, and so Liv offers to help, and becomes closer to Lisa, but secretly fears for the outcome:

It seems that fragile Lisa is dangerously close to a breakdown after all she has been through, and Liv not only fears for the collapse of the case because Lisa can offer no new information regarding hard evidence, but she also fears for Munch, who faces a difficult recovery - something that may not happen at all if he loses Lisa, who has a long history of mental breakdown and suicide attempts...

Rated M : Story contains scenes of a sexual nature, romantic love making, adult themes and discussions, scenes of violence, also some drug taking. Also this fic is a heavy, heavy emotional roller coaster.

Disclaimer: I own nothing related to SVU. I write for love of the fandom.

Additional Note:

The poem 'Mad Girls Love Song' featured at the opening of Chapter One is the property of the late, great Sylvia Plath. All other verse featured in this book and quoted as the work of the character 'Lisa Linton' is the copyrighted property of the (very much) alive novel writer and poet Aline Riva.

Chapter 1

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;

I lift my lids and all is born again.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,

And arbitrary blackness gallops in:

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed

And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.

(I think I made you up inside my head.)

~ Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl's Love Song ~

"You wanted to see me?"

As Munch said those words, Cragen nodded.

"Have a seat, John. I need to talk to you about something."

Munch sat down and looked over at Cragen, who was seated behind his desk with a troubled look in his eyes.

"You probably remember a case back in the days when you worked for homicide – Viktor Dimitry? Rapist who liked to play rough - one of his victims died from her injuries."

Munch recalled it right away.

"Russian guy, mixed up with gangland crimes until they found out he was a sex case."

"That's right," Cragen replied, "He was becoming a liability so the mob turned him over to the cops. You busted him."

"And he threatened to kill me when he got out. That was years ago, cap."

"He's out now."

"And you think I should be worried?"

Cragen shook his head.

"I don't know. I just wanted to ask you if you had concerns, because if you do -"

"No, I'm not concerned," Munch replied, "He's been in jail for years. He won't want to go back there. I can't see him turning up here and carrying out a threat like that."

"You don't want protection while we track him down and see what he's up to?"

"I'm really not concerned. It was too long ago."

Cragen looked at him intently.

"Are you sure about this?"

Munch didn't need to think about his reply.

"If I took every threat made against me seriously, every time I arrested someone, I'd be spending my whole life in hiding. I'll be fine."

"You're sure?"

Munch got up from his seat.

"Very sure. And I've got work to do."

He left the office and as he closed the door, Captain Cragen gave a sigh, as he silently wished he could impose protection on his colleague, because Viktor had been considered highly dangerous prior to his arrest, but then he thought on all Munch had said, and reasoned that he was probably right...

It was coming close to the end of the day.

Fin was tied up with paperwork. El went over to Liv's desk, placed a coffee on it and slowly turned it in a semi circle, clockwise as he spoke softly to her. She turned her head slightly, said something back, their fingertips brushed as he drew his hand away and she turned the cup anti clockwise. All the while they never broke eye contact. Then he said he would see her in five minutes, and went back to his own desk to tidy it before leaving work.

Munch stopped watching.

He knew about Liv and El, because he missed nothing.

No one else knew, and he hoped it would stay that way, because getting too close could cost one or both of them their jobs if Cragen found out...

But he wasn't going to concern himself with their business. He got up and put on his coat and hat and turned for the door.

"How come the guy who always stays late is leaving early?" said Fin, and as Munch looked back, Fin smiled.

"Got a date?"

Munch smiled back at his colleague and shook his head.

"No," he replied, and then he walked away, looking forward to an evening that would not be spent yet again alone in front of the TV – tonight, he was going out.

After going home for a shower and a change of clothes, Munch had got back in his car and headed over to a large hotel, where he parked his car, got out and then went into the hotel, and after making an enquiry, headed off towards a large conference hall on the ground floor. Tonight he was going to hear reading from Lisa Linton, an award-winning English poet, and hoped to get his copy of her book signed too.

As he walked in and headed to the front to grab a good seat before the place got too crowded, he caught sight of her:

He recognised her from the picture he had seen on the back of her book – she was just under average height, slender, and her honey coloured hair fell to her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes were striking but her gaze darted about the room nervously as she noticed the seats were filling up. She turned to speak to a male companion, who wore a designer shirt beneath an expensive suit, and as she spoke, he opened up a door that led to a smaller room, and she followed him inside.

From where he sat, Munch watched, at first out of curiosity, failing to ignore how shapely she looked in her dark jeans and her tight black top - and then through the partly open door, he saw the man in the suit grab her by the wrist.

She tried to pull away, but he kept his grip firm.

Too firm.

John Munch took off his coat, left it over the back of the seat and walked towards the next room, carrying his ID in his hand.

Lisa Linton tried again to free herself from the grip of Greg Volkov, her agent, but he squeezed so hard the pain was bruising.

"Let go!" she said as she struggled to keep her voice down, "Do you think this will help? Will it? Will it help me to get up there and face all those people? ...I can't, I can't do it...you're making it worse and worse and WORSE! LET GO!"

As Greg's anger rose and he pulled her towards him, a police ID came between him and Lisa, and he let her go abruptly, turning sharply with a look of alarm in his dark eyes.

"Police," said Munch, "Is everything okay here, Ms Linton?"

As Munch looked at her, he saw a nervous, jittery woman who visibly relaxed as she breathed a sigh, and the look in her eyes confirmed she was glad of his intervention.

"I was having a private conversation with Lisa," said her companion, and as she ran shaking fingers through her hair and tried to compose herself, the man spoke again, "I'm Greg Volkov, Ms Linton's agent. There is nothing to concern you here, officer."

"That's Detective Munch to you," he corrected him, "And from what I saw, you need to keep your hands off this lady."

Greg stood there as anger smouldered in eyes briefly shaded by his chestnut hair, then he swept it off his face and spoke again.

"Lisa gets nervous. I was helping her."

"Not bullying her? My mistake, then?"

"Ten minutes," Greg said, shooting a glance to Lisa. Be ready."

Munch watched as he left the room, and then he turned back to Lisa.

She was shorter than him and as she looked up at him she smiled.

"Thanks. He can get a bit heavy handed sometimes."

Munch smiled, liking the sound of her accent. Greg's accent was also English, but with another accent in the mix, he definitely wasn't as English as Lisa was...

"Volkov...that's Russian?"

"He was born in Russia, left when he was a child," she replied, "And it's thanks to him I'm where I am today. Really, he's not as bad as he seems, it's my fault, I get nervous...I panic...and crowds can set me off."

"And bullying you isn't exactly helping."

"It's my fault," she said again, and he instantly felt sure that Greg was in the habit of treating her badly, and then blaming it on her nervousness.

"It's not your fault," he promised her, "And I want you to remember that. Also, I'm in the front row so you don't have to worry about Greg barking orders at you while you're out there."

Lisa had already decided that she liked him. His voice was as gentle as his gaze, and he was older than her but handsome with it.

"You've decided to protect me, Detective?"

Munch smiled.

"I'm a cop, it's instinct. Maybe I'll see you after the reading, I was hoping you might sign a book for me."

"I'd love to, Detective Munch," she replied.

"Call me John," he told her, and as she met his gaze she felt it again – a deep attraction to this man, a pull towards him that felt too good to fight...

"Okay John, I'll see you later," she replied.

After Munch went back to the hall and sat down, he listened for ten minutes as Greg spoke about Lisa and her work, and then after receiving applause, Lisa took his place,and for the next hour, Munch was captivated as he listened to her talk about her life and her early work, and then she read from her collection to a silent room, showing not a trace of the nervousness he had see whilst being pushed around by Greg.

As she read, occasionally she would glance about the room,and every time her gaze fell on Munch, their eyes met and he saw a hint of a smile, and he smiled too.

It was as if the two of them had acknowledged their liking for one another already, John felt it as much as she did, and when she had finished her reading, he lingered behind, waiting for her to sign books, but ensuring he was the very last in the queue, because he wanted to speak to her now it was over and everyone else was leaving.

He had no idea if he was doing the right thing when he finally went up to her and the room was almost empty, and sat down and handed her his copy of her book.

"What would you like me to say?" she asked him as the pen hovered over the open book on the first page.

Munch drew in a deep breath and took a chance.

"How about Yes John, dinner would be perfect?" and then he smiled.

She looked up from the book and met his gaze, and as she looked into his dark eyes, she smiled too - and he knew that the answer was most definitely Yes...

Lisa took him up to her suite at the hotel.

She ordered room service and dinner was brought to the room by hotel staff, then they ate together at a table by a window while she laughed about how all expenses were on Greg, and told Munch some more about how she had met him, and how he had promised her they would both make money from her talent.

"I think I can trust him," she had added later, as she cleared away the plates and placed the coffee on the table, "I don't have to like him to do that."

"How long are you staying in New York?" Munch asked as she sat down again.

"I don't know," she replied, "Greg has business associates to look up and some deals to iron out. I don't pay any attention to the business side of things, that's why he's here – to do the work for me. I spin the straw into gold but he sells the gold."

John drank some coffee and put it down again, looking at her thoughtfully across the table before he asked his next question.

"So you and Greg are just friends...is there anyone else in your life, a boyfriend back home, maybe?"

She smiled as she shook her head.

"I have a daughter. She's eighteen. Her father left as soon as he found out I was pregnant. I had a few tries at new starts but never met the right one and ended up bringing her up on my own."

"That explains it."

Her eyes widened.

"Explains what?" she wondered.

"The poems about your daughter."

Now she understood. She leant on the table and paused for a moment as she gathered up her thoughts, and then she spoke again:

"You are mine, every perfect inch of you, every tantrum and pinch of you, every mess you make and every piece of scattered cake, no matter for it is all of you, the things you are, the things you do. Your laughter is divine and beautiful like your sea grey eyes - mine, all mine."

Munch smiled.

"I liked that one."

"Do you have any kids?"

He shook his head.

"I've had several tries at marriage and then I stopped trying."

She caught a shade of sadness in his voice.

"It's never too late to try for anything. I'm forty now – I was thirty seven when I started writing again. And then I became a success."

"You look good for it," he admitted, "I mean, you don't look old enough to have a grown up daughter."

She smiled again and as she looked into his eyes, she felt her heart skip a beat.

"And you," she replied, "Are a very attractive man, John Munch."

His face flushed and he looked away briefly, feeling sure if Fin or El had been handed such a compliment they would have taken it without a trace of shyness. Then he looked back at her, and as their gaze locked, for a moment neither spoke.

"I'm so glad we met," she finally said, "Who knows, I may even be inspired to write because of you."

"Thanks," was all he could think to say, and he smiled back at her, and cautiously reached across the table. He had no need to be cautious, she reached out too, and suddenly he was holding her hand.

"This," she said, "Is one of those moments I want to shut up like a ship in a bottle and keep forever."

"Me too," he admitted, "And I don't have any plans at all for tonight and tomorrow is my day off, and I was wondering if -"

"If you could stay tonight?" she asked warmly.

Behind his tinted lenses, John's eyes registered surprise.

"I was going to ask if I could see you again tomorrow - but yes, yes I would like that, I would love to stay."

He gave her hand a squeeze and she felt a rush of fondness warm through her heart, and suddenly she didn't want to let go of his hand. She was still holding it as she got up, and he got up too, and she led him through the suite to the bedroom door.

"I'm not in the habit of doing this," she told him as she turned out the lights and opened the door.

"Neither am I, unfortunately!" John said, and laughed softly, "I'm not treated like a sex symbol half as often as I would like, well actually never, how about you?"

She giggled.

"Until now I'd concluded success is not the ticket to a wonderful sex life!"

"It is now," he whispered, and as they stood together in the open doorway, he slipped his arms about her waist and pulled her closer, and they shared a kiss for the first time, and as he held her and their kiss deepened, John Munch was taken by surprise at the flood of emotion that ran through him as he wondered if perhaps at last he had found what had been searching for all his life - perhaps this time, it really was true love...