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Paper Hearts

Chapter 5

Remember what one of our philosophers once said: "In the human heart there is a perpetual generation of passions, such that the ruin of one is almost always the foundation of another."
— Richard Castle, Frozen Heat

"All right, Esposito. It's done. You'll report to Captain Montgomery at the Twelfth next week." Captain Donallan pauses. "And when you do, tell him he owes me one for stealing one of my best detectives."

He shakes his head. The transfer had been his idea; he couldn't stay here. Not after everything that had gone down. "He didn't initiate the move, sir."

"No, you did. I know that. But you didn't request a specific post. Montgomery asked for you. Buck up, Espo. He's good people, and you'll do well over there. Didn't you go through the Academy with his squad leader? That's a connection right there."

He wonders what Donallan would think if he told him the exact nature of his connection with the Twelfth's Homicide squad leader.

"Esposito? Is there something else?"

"No, sir. Thank you, sir. I should get moving."

"That you should." His old captain sticks out a hand, and they shake. "Good luck, son. It's been a pleasure."

Cleaning out his desk doesn't take long; the personal items barely fill up half a banker's box despite how long he's been here. Esposito always has believed in keeping work and life separate, and both his home and his desk show it. Right now, though, as he stares into the box at the plaques, bric-a-brac and various bits of kitsch, he wonders why that thought feels a good bit more than slightly defensive.

Shaking his head, he closes the box and heads out. He has a week of leave before reporting to Captain Montgomery, and he means to use it to work his way through BioShock. Everything he's heard sounds amazing, and when it had shown up in the windows of his favorite game shop, the decision to buy had been easy. It's waiting for him at home, and he thinks it might be a good idea to pick up a double order of Chinese on the way. No doubt he's going to have at least one all-nighter.

"Hey, Esposito."

He stops, startled. She's standing at the bottom of the steps. "This isn't your house."

"No," says Beckett, "but not yours either, not anymore. Montgomery told me this afternoon." She comes closer, facing him. "Why did I hear it from him and not you?"

"I figured you already found out a while back."

"Well, I didn't. Not until today. All I knew is we had a new detective coming on to replace DiNovo."

"Huh," he says, wondering how well he'll really do at the Twelfth if Montgomery isn't the kind to ask his squad leader's opinion about potential new detectives. Then again, he'll have more contact with Beckett than Montgomery anyway, and Beckett, he knows, won't hesitate to ask his opinion.

She's peering at the box. "What's this? I thought you weren't reporting for a couple of weeks."

"Taking some leave in between."

"Oh. New game out?"

"Yeah." Stilted, he decides. That's the best word to describe this conversation, and if it makes his voice a bit gruff, it's because he hates the idea of that word being in the same sentence as Kate Beckett. "Somethin' you need from me? I won't call you Boss, not yet, but I figure that'll be fine once I report."

"It'll be fine. And no, I just…" she trails off. "I hadn't expected to hear your name. I thought you liked it here, at the Fifty-Fourth."

"Just needed a change."

"Does this have anything to do with Ike Thornton going down?"

He shifts his box from one hip to the other. "What do you think, Beckett? He was my partner, for Christ's sake."

"You never talked to me about it."

"You never asked."

She sighs, giving up her poker face for something more expressive. "I meant to, Javi, Really. It was just…I finally got hold of some new information about my mother's case, and it was big. I wound up caught up in it." She makes a face before staring down at her hands, and he can see that they're shaking. "So caught up, actually, that I had to be pulled out. By the time that happened, Thornton was old news, and I had no idea what I'd say if I called you."

He frowns. "You still seeing a counselor?"

"Yeah, and we're back up to every other week. But we'll probably go to once a month pretty soon."

"Then it's all right." He's not really mad about the lousy excuse; her mother's death had impacted her far worse than Ike's death had impacted him. "You seem like you know what to say now."

"I suppose. Is that all you're bringing with you?"

"Most everything's in the files, either at the precinct or 1PP. We can request them when we need 'em."

"Espo." Now there's strain in her voice. "I'm just trying to be a friend here, for old time's sake. And maybe to…to ask you if you want to go get Italian. One more time, before things get too weird."

He looks her over, considering the statement. It's been well over a year since either of them has shown up at the other's door. They've never really broken up, because they've never really been a couple. But things just seemed to trail off; in fact, the last couple times they saw each other, it was on the job and it had stayed strictly professional.

That didn't mean he hadn't thought about other things when he'd seen her, though; and he'd seen the same thoughts echoed in her eyes at the time.

Still. "Why? What good would it do?" he asks.

"I don't know. Closure, I guess. Saying good-bye for good, so that we can say hello honestly." She shrugs. "Did we ever need a reason?"

"I guess not." He jerks his head, pointing. "C'mon. I want to drop this at my place before we go out. Plus I need to stock up on some take-out on the way."

Of course, they don't make it to the restaurant. She wanders around the sidewalk while he gets the Chinese, and then makes polite small talk on the sidewalk and in the elevator. He starts to tell her about the latest console news, but she's obviously lost after two sentences, so he changes the subject to something more generic.

Then, after he puts the boxes away in his living room and refrigerator, he doesn't talk much at all. Neither does she.

They're saying plenty, though. The words they'll never exchange are right there in every touch, every kiss, every soft exclamation and startled gasp. He takes his time, knowing he'll want to remember everything. It's quieter than it has been before, more passionate, and both of them work to extend it as long as possible. But it can't last forever, and eventually they both give in to the inevitable.

Afterward, she wraps herself around him. "I'm glad you're coming to the Twelfth."

"Me too," he answers, and he means it. Esposito realizes he's not going to be jealous, or uncertain, once he's under her supervision. It's not that he and Kate Beckett don't love each other. He knows better than to pretend they don't. But it's not the right kind of love, the kind she deserves, and in that moment, he decides he'll do everything he can to make sure that's what she finds.