He used to think that no matter what, his partnership with her was the one thing that could never be shaken.
The funny thing about this is that he hadn't known about the letter. Not until some defense attorney had made her read it out loud in open court. And even then, he'd still been convinced that they couldn't be broken, because she'd taken the letter back. It hadn't mattered that Deakins hadn't said anything about it, because there hadn't been any need to. She'd changed her mind, and was staying in the Major Case Squad. Had changed her mind and was staying with him.
The letter had meant nothing, really. He'd made some quip about it being an acquired taste, and she'd dragged him to some known cop bar afterwards and made her talk to him, and it had been fine.
Golden pair of the NYPD, Bobby thinks, now, and almost laughs. Yeah, right.
He has heard time and again that in a moment, everything can change. You can lose someone, you can gain someone. You can fall in love and out of love. You can have one partner one day, and another the next. People can stand you one day, and the next, they want nothing to do with you. So many things that can happen, in a split second, the blink of an eye…whatever.
He has never had reason to really think on it before, but ever since things in the squad have changed, he's been thinking about it a lot more than he'd have ever liked to.
And the problem with this is that he can't help but feel like it's his own fault. Like if he wasn't as much of an oddball as the department seems to think, none of this would be happening. Of course, it probably would, just because he has his own issues, despite what the department seems to think about him, because the truth is, they don't know much of anything beyond what's in his records.
He wonders what they would think of him if they could know everything that isn't there, everything that she knows.
It used to be that the two of them were synonymous. One with each other, because she knew what he was thinking, and every now and then, he could finish her sentences, because it was just like that. They were on the same sheet of music, so to speak, and their theories were usually the ones that broke the case.
He's heard the rumors that say he goes right on ahead and takes the credit for breaking the cases, but the truth is, he is convinced that his solve rate would be nothing without her.
The department, he muses, would figure this out if they actually looked at what really went on in the Major Case Squad rather than going by the rumors, and the opinion of the Chief of D's that he's a 'whack job'. But as it is, records are public access, or so they've found out with this last case. And it is this last case that has him thinking about all of this, all over again.
He wanders through the park because he can, and because he's still wearing his shield, and he really doubts anybody's going to mess with him, and besides that, he needs to clear his mind. But he doubts that's going to happen anytime soon, mostly because things have been so upside down and inside out lately, that if she really meant what she said, maybe it'll change by morning.
He doubts it, and hates himself for it.
It's too late, she had said, and he wonders what exactly she means by this, because for once, he hasn't been able to tell straight off.
The stupid thing about this is that he thought he knew her, and thought that she knew him, but somewhere along the line, that changed. And things between them have become so convoluted that he's not sure what's going to go on with them now.
All he can do is hope that it doesn't mean she'll walk away.
In a moment, everything can change, he thinks, and stops in his tracks, for a minute, before going on again.
If he could have known how true that really was, he'd have tried harder to change the way things had become.