Four ways Carolyn Barek said goodbye (and one way she didn't).
---
1. By slapping Mike Logan in the middle of a fight and telling him he was a shithead. For all of .05 seconds, she'd considered telling him that his mother was right, and that he was a waste of air. When the crack of flesh against flesh had faded, and she was staring at him, eyes wide and hand stinging, she knew that she couldn't stay in this partnership.
He mattered too much to hurt like that. And she didn't trust herself not to do it again.
---
2. She always says goodbye to her nephews by ruffling their hair and kissing them on their foreheads. It started when they were toddlers, all awkward and pleading for affection by clinging to her legs as she tried to leave her mother's apartment. Routines taught consistency, and one thing she never, ever wanted her nephews to go without was the knowledge that she loved them.
Even now, when they're on the cusp of adolescence and protest (loudly) that being kissed by their aunt – even just on the forehead - is weird and gross, she does it anyway. Because when she reaches down, her lips brushing hair and warm skin, just for an instant, they curl into her.
---
3. She says goodbye to her first true love (and third lover) by kissing him long and hard on the low porch of her grandmother's house. She is twenty-seven years old and starts the academy three days later. He tastes of cloves and summer and the salt of the tears pouring down her face.
She'd convinced herself that the parting was meant to be. That fate and reality and life were too much to overcome and that Louisiana and New York were too far apart. Detective and shrimp boat captain weren't worlds that collided, let alone connected.
But sometimes, when it's late and quiet and she's had a glass of wine or three, Carolyn thinks back to that kiss on the porch. Rubs her fingers against her lips, and lets herself regret.
---
4. The last time she sees her mother's sister is at her cousin Gina's wedding. There is dancing and light and music, with her Aunt Mimi crying her eyes out and waving a tissue at every opportunity.
She remembers hugging Mimi goodbye, head turned awkwardly as to not get a face full of ample bosom and primrose corsage before walking towards the front of the VFW hall with her date.
She's almost out the door when she turns and gives her Aunt one last, carefree wave and a yelled assurance that she'll be at Gina's baby shower in three months.
Less than four weeks later, she's holding her mother's hand, crying, and listening to their priest give funeral rites.
---
5. Two days after the new Captain takes over Deakins' office, Barek finds a set of partner reassignment papers in her inbox. She blinks at them a few times, confused. She hadn't asked for them. She knows that her and her partner's solve rate is high enough that this isn't expected. Especially since the new Captain hasn't even had time to hang up his degrees, let alone dive into the murky waters of office politics.
She stares at them a good five minutes, running theories and possibilities through her brain before she notices Logan shooting her furtive glances from the coffee station. She narrows her eyes slightly and turns her chair so that it isn't obvious that she's watching him. Turns her body towards the Captain's office, and everything falls into place like dominos, or cards, or some other dumb metaphor.
That stupid, stupid man, she thinks. She closes her eyes and sighs while in her head, she watches Deakins walking through the doors behind her.
When she looks down again, she flips to the back pages and checks a hunch. Sure enough, the only thing left for her to do is sign the papers and hand them in to the new Captain.
It takes her all of three seconds to make her decision. She's on her feet and walking to Ross' door before she can talk herself out of it.
The other man looks up at her knock, eyes expectant.
She closes the door softly behind her and raises the folder so he can see it.
Ten minutes later, she stalks out of the office and makes a b-line directly for her partner. He's no longer haunting the coffeepot, but settled – seemingly unconcerned – at his brand new desk. The one directly across from hers. She skids to a halt less than a foot away and waits for him to look up. Doesn't move or blink or even shift until he meets her eyes.
You're an idiot, she glares at him and drops the transfer papers in his lap. They're cut in large pieces and most of them slide off and hit the floor with a soft swish.
"It's my life and my decision," she says, face clear. "No one makes it for me. Don't try to do it again."
She walks around the desks then, back straight and feeling strangely light. He's still gaping when she settles down across from him and digs a file out of her inbox. She flips it open to the first page before reaching over and grabbing one of the new pens out of her top drawer.
"Your turn on the financials, partner." Her tone brokering no argument, she gives him her half-smile and waits. Watches as he takes a deep breath and dumps the rest of the scraps and file into the wastebasket next to their desks.
"Yeah," he says. He smiles then. Softly and with more emotion than she really wants to cope with before her third cup of coffee. She just nods and looks down at her file.
And they go back to work.
-fin-