Rain or Shine | Soulmate AU 1.5 |

1

For most people, taking a stroll in the park on the first warm day of the year is just that: a walk in the park. Grief does a lot of funny things, though, like turning unsuspecting parks into a shrine of something that used to be but isn't anymore.

I don't come here often for a reason, but today felt like a good day when I woke up and Denis told me the weather. We still haven't gotten around to disabling the AI within the tower, but it's mostly because I've been putting the task off. The kids won't admit it but they're slowly becoming more dependent on the disembodied voice that can answer virtually any of their questions as time wears on. Having him around isn't exactly a hardship, either, so I'm not worried about it.

Today's the first day that the temperature has crept above seventy and I'd been meaning to take a trip over here for a while. The "most beautiful day of the year" seemed like the best time to have such a visit.

It's just a park. Parents push small kids in strollers and chase after toddlers who have just upgraded to being able to walk. The chatter of the playground follows me for quite a distance after I pass it by. The trees cast scribbled shadows onto the black pavement of the walkway. There's a pond that spans almost the entirety of the park, so I'm pretty sure it actually qualifies as a stream or maybe even a small lake.

There is one tree in the park that isn't just a tree, however. It rests beside a bench with a bronze dedication plaque that's grown dull with age. That tree in particular looks just like all the rest except for the etching on the side of its trunk that faces the pond. "D.O. + M.A." It's something a couple of teenagers would carve into an innocent tree's bark and the fact that Damien and I were twenty-four and twenty-five when we did it still warms my chest with amusement.

I sit down at the base of the tree and look out onto the pond. The water ripples gently and the sky beyond it is pink with the beginning tendrils of the sunset. I tend to lie to myself about why I don't come here more often. It's hard to see where the demands of my position as captain of the team begin and end, so it's easy to pretend I'm not able to set aside the time.

Damien. He's the one who makes the park not just a park for me.

Life when I was still on the team here in Manhattan was a lot easier than it is now. Being captain may be rewarding and I may have gained a family from it, but I can't say with certainty that I wouldn't give it all up to get back everything I lost. Watching half the team quickly descend into irreversible madness was one thing, but losing my counterpart was another. My team now doesn't talk about my old one here in Manhattan, at least around me, and they sure as hell never ask about it. It's like an unspoken rule that even Lake picked up on within the first few weeks of his time with us. Since we don't speak about Richard Blackwell, conversation obviously never strays to the counterpart nobody knows I had, either.

I get up when the sky has grown dark enough for the park to empty out for the most part. Cecelia insisted on a team dinner tonight because it's "just been too long since we've had one." I run a hand down the carving, eyes flicking all over it as if I'm trying to commit it to memory. I don't have to. It's been burned into my mind for years and it's not going anywhere anytime soon.

The walk back to the subway is the same as it always is. Turn here and cross the street there. I could probably make the short walk there with my eyes closed. The ride itself back to Queens is over an hour which is quite the trip to make on a regular basis. Driving there would cut the travel time in half, but coming here is a solo affair for a reason. Lake isn't the only one with a thing for privacy. I'm worse than him with most things. I'm also definitely not masochistic enough to try parking my car on the street, so the subway is my only option.