Title: Making a Connection, Chapter 1

Author: Sorsha711
Fandom/Pairing: Munch/OFC, O/E
Rating: M, for language and references to violence; some adult situations
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Dick Wolf. Sigh!
Summary: Across a crowded coffee-shop… yadda, yadda, yadda. A Munch romance with a generous side of O/E; Post "Uncle" so Spoiler warnings if you've not see that episode

Making a Connection, Chapter 1

Shifting slightly to glance over his shoulder, Munch quickly confirmed that the lady he had been watching for the last couple of months was at her usual table in the small coffee shop he frequented on weekends. He hadn't quite decided what it was about her that had caught his attention. She was pretty, but not truly beautiful. He had originally estimated her age to be late thirties, but he had begun to revise that upward given her choice in reading materials, the lack of a constantly ringing cell phone attached to her ear, and her quiet, yet self-assured mannerisms.

At some point in the last few weeks, he had taken an interest in the titles of the books she brought with her. Her interests seemed to span a wide range of topics… politics, history, especially ancient Egypt, classic literature, biographies, and modern novels of all genre, though she seemed to have a preference for mysteries. She seldom brought the same book for more than one weekend. He had seen the way she lost herself in her reading… devouring those books with a voracious appetite that matched his own.

On several occasions, he had ventured into a nearby bookstore looking for the titles that were unfamiliar to him. She had almost caught him sitting in a corner of the store the week before with several of those books in his lap. He admitted to himself that he had been flattered and encouraged to see her reading the flyleaf of the book he had taken to the coffee shop that same morning.

During the week, John often found his thoughts turning to her whenever he had a break in his duties. His partner, Odafin Tutuola, had noticed how distracted he had become and regularly hassled him for information. Truthfully, John wasn't sure what to say in answer to his friend's questions; he was at a loss for words to explain why he was so fascinated with this woman… a woman whose eyes he regularly found himself staring into across the crowded room. They had yet to talk and he didn't even know her name.

A second quick review of the cramped interior alerted him to the fact that 'his' table near window was occupied. Paying for his coffee and danish, he scanned the room and sighed with frustration to find that the only open spot was a table jammed in the back next to the restrooms. He hesitated taking it because he knew he would not be able to see her from that location.

Glancing back in her direction, he found her gaze had lifted from the book she was reading to him. A small, hopeful smile gave him the motivation to approach her table. "Hi. There aren't any tables open. Do you mind if I join you?"

Her smile grew a little more certain as she waved him to the seat across from her. "Of course… please. They're packed today."

Taking his seat, John nodded. "I guess the rain has driven some of their regulars inside for the morning. I'm John, by the way."

"Hi John. I'm Arwen… and yes, my father is a Tolkien fan," she smiled.

"Is that the first question everyone asks?" he inquired, hoping to engage her in a conversation before she returned to reading her book. He was finally seated at her table and he wanted to make the most of the opportunity to find out if she might be interested in going out with him… and if he was interested in asking.

Her smile turned rueful as she admitted, "Since the movies came out, yes. Before that, not everyone got the reference. Then I had to try and explain it to people that knew nothing about his works. My brothers' names are Elrond and Aragorn, so we suffered together. My older sister is the only one with a 'normal' name."

Smiling, he observed, "You sound jealous. Arwen is a lovely name."

"Try telling that to a child that was regularly teased." Returning his smile, she added, "At least my brothers could easily shorten their names to Ron and Ara. I refused to be Winnie. Imagine the Pooh jokes!"

Grinning, John noted, "I can. Since you seemed to expect me to recognize the names, I have to ask… do I look like a Tolkien fan?"

Tilting her head to study lanky man before her, she finally nodded. "Yes, you do. Am I wrong?"

"No, I've read all of his works… several times in fact, but I didn't think I looked the part," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. "Are you a fan?"

"Did I have a choice?"

Chuckling, he commented, "You could have hated them as a form of rebellion?"

"Nope, that's Ara. Ron and I are devoted fans," she admitted. "Besides, once I got past grade school, my name has always served as a good conversation starter."

"Your suit the name," John offered, hoping she would be receptive to his flirting.

A faint blush swept over her features. "I wish! I have no self-delusions about my looks and I'm blond to boot. I know I'm not what Tolkien described."

Reviewing her features from his closer vantage point, he silently acknowledged that, while she wasn't beautiful, her features were more than simply pretty. Her clear grey eyes sparkled with life, hinting at an active mind and quick wit. She had a warmth... a glow about her that fit nicely with his mental images of the ethereal elves of the classic books. "I disagree about that… but Galadriel might suit you better."

Her rich laughter made him smile with genuine pleasure, something he rarely did anymore. He also noticed that it drew the interested attention of more than a few of the men in the coffee shop. He felt a thrill of excitement course through his system as her focus remained on him.

Still smiling, she pronounced, "That would have been fun… an elf-witch of great power and legend! I was always rather unimpressed by the limited role Tolkien gave Arwen. She was more interesting in the movies, but I have to be careful not to let the purist hear me say that!"

Chuckling, John teased, "So, you crave power?'

Grinning, Arwen retorted, "No more than the average immortal!"

"You're an immortal?" he asked, leaning forward to whisper, "Will you disappear in a puff of smoke if I turn my back?"

"I wasn't planning to, but if you hinting you want the table all to yourself…" she retorted, an unmistakably flirtatious grin lighting her face.

"That's the last thing I had in mind, I promise!" Tilting his head to watch her over the rims of his glasses, he pressed, "So, are you immortal or a mere mortal like the rest of us?"

"I'm an immortal spirit temporarily inhabiting a mortal body… like the rest of us," she replied, holding his gaze. "If I turn my back, are you planning to disappear in a puff of smoke?"

Smirking, John settled back in his chair. "I'm enjoying a cup of coffee in the company of a beautiful immortal spirit. Why would I be so foolish as to leave so soon?"

Her bright smile made his breath catch. In the weeks to come, he slowly began to realize that her smile had reignited a fire within him that had nearly burned out… smothered by too many failed relationships, the horrors he saw every day at work… the loneliness and private fears that had been swamping his spirit for years. For the first time in a very long time, John let himself begin to want… and to hope.

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