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Paper Hearts
Chapter Two

It's not about knowing. You can never really know someone. It's really about trust.
— Richard Castle, Heat Rises

Beckett's voice is a shout. "Espo! Enough already! Get moving!"

He can't see her. He can barely hear her. The rifle is all he sees right now, with its deadly trigger and setup and the muzzle that's pointed straight at him. It's Iraq all over again. What was he fighting for there, if he's only going to come back and encounter one of those here?

Her voice is closer, lower. More intense. "Come on, Javi. You can't flake now. Graduation's in just two days."

She's right. It's just that there's that thing —

"Focus!" she snaps. "You really want to have to re-apply and go all the way back through the Academy?"

That gets through; hearing one fear named breaks the effect of the other one. "No." He takes a sharp breath, blinking the remaining panic away, and un-holsters his own weapon. "No. Let's do this."

"Good," she answers. They finish the course without any further incident, but there's still ice in his gut. What if she hadn't been there to call him out of the flashback? Maybe he really isn't ready for this yet. Maybe dropping out is better. Even if he can't get back into the NYPD Academy, there are other departments out there worth trying.

With a loud exhale, Beckett drops down on a folding chair next to him. "Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"You know what. Everyone has moments now and then. They don't mean you're back to square one."

He glances at her sideways. "You're one to talk."

She snorts. "What was that about denial?"

It had taken three weeks of Friday night dinners before she told him the whole story about her mother, and even then, it was just an outline. Yes, she confirmed, her mother had been murdered: a stabbing case that'd been closed awfully quickly. No, her father hadn't handled it well. He usually made it to AA meetings, but not always, and she kept an eye on him.

In return, he'd told her some of what had happened in Iraq. It was establishing rapport and trust, he told himself; if she wouldn't seek professional help then she needed some other kind of safety valve. Somehow, though, it had started to turn into something else. He'd discovered she has a dry, ironic sense of humor that tends toward the wicked. She'd learned about his love for video gaming. To his surprise, she's actually able to talk about that, although only on a light level since she doesn't game herself.

By the time the serious training simulations started, neither of them had any hesitation about partnering up.

Letting out another deep breath now, Beckett relaxes back in the chair, letting her arms and legs dangle in a pose that reminds him just how very young she still is. When she stretches, her t-shirt rides up enough to expose a good bit of skin, and he can see that her midriff is as well tanned as her arms and legs.

Without warning, an image of Beckett in a bikini appears in his mind. He shakes his head, trying to clear it.

"What?" she asks.

"Nothing," he answers, refusing to notice her shorts. "You have a bruise on your right leg."

"Do I?" She picks it up to examine it, muscles rippling under the skin as she twists it into a viewable position, and something about the sight makes him need to shake his head harder. She doesn't notice. "Oh, I guess it is. That'll hurt later, but at least it's only a bruise."

"Be more careful next time," he says. "And God, Beckett, pull your shirt back down, will you? It's blinding me."

She gives him a long, curious look, but he closes his eyes and tries to think of anything besides the idea of her with any less clothing than her current workout gear. This is Beckett, for God's sake. Not some random girl off the street. He needs to knock it off.

Problem is, it's not as easy as it normally would be. He's still a little off-center from having frozen up.

"Javi?" she asks. "You all right?"

"Yeah." He pushes to his feet. "Just needed to catch my breath. Let's get moving. Got some work left to do yet."

Which is a good thing, he decides. He needs the distraction.

She's flushed slightly pink with excitement. "Yeah. Dad's going to be here. He's been sober for an entire week now, Espo. Longest stretch so far. Is this thing straight?"

He peruses her newly-donned uniform, reaching out to adjust the tie. "I'm glad you're going to have someone here."

"Won't you?"

His mother has to work, and God only knows where his father is these days. Espo shakes his head.

"Well, I'm sure my father will love you. We can all go out for Italian afterward."

Maybe. She's told a few stories about bringing boyfriends home. Then again, he's not a boyfriend, is he? He's a colleague, and there's nothing like that between them. The fact that he thinks she looks amazing in the uniform is immaterial. So is the fact that she appeared in his dreams again last night, still clad in only a bikini.

Beckett pulls out her poker face for the ceremony itself, though her eyes are bright and excited. At first. Then, as she watches the audience, that sparkle fades and dims, progressing through a neutral expression before becoming positively stony.

He catches her elbow afterward. "Hey. Kate. I'm sorry."

"He promised, Javi." There's a sound of unshed tears in her voice. "He promised."

"I know."

She breathes heavily, trying to recover her aplomb. "It's all right. I finished, after all. That's the part that really matters."

"That's right," he answers, recognizing the sound of someone trying to convince themselves. It can't hurt to reinforce that. "Come on. We can still go get Italian to celebrate."

When they get outside into the calmer, clearer air, she tries another steadying breath, but it backfires and she doubles over instead. He puts a hand on her back. "Push through. You're stronger than this."

"He's drinking, damn it. I know he is."

"Probably. But we're going out to celebrate graduation, Kate. Not to mention, I'm hungry."

A while passes before she can unfold to her full height. "Why don't you go on and get yourself some dinner, then, Esposito. I don't have any appetite."

"Uh-uh. You're coming to the restaurant with me, and you're going to eat, and then maybe we'll grab a movie or something. We are going to celebrate tonight."

"I don't really feel like dinner and a movie."

He pulls her around so that they're facing each other, dropping his voice to protect both their privacy. "Then what do you feel like?"

"I just want to forget." Her voice goes husky. "But a movie won't be enough."

"We'll do something else, then. Tell me what'll work. Anything."

She meets his eyes, and there's a different kind of hitch in her breath now. "Anything?"

He nods, but he's still startled when she steps forward and brushes her lips against his. "Kate."

"You said anything. And I saw you looking," she whispers. "Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

He keeps his voice gentle. "I don't want you hate yourself tomorrow."

"I won't."

It's still a bad idea, he knows. Horrible. But at least, if it's him, he can try to minimize any damage. He pulls her close, kissing her back, and whispers that his place is only a few minutes away.