(A/N): I don't own T7S. This is a short little two shot I've had in my notebook for a while. It was going to be a oneshot but the second part is really long so I just decided to break it up. Enjoy & feel free to review!

Edited for content. Spelling and more Hyde-ness.

Orange and yellow leaves twisted in the frigid November air. Summer's decay loudly crushed beneath his thick soled boots as he divulged from the trail in the almost empty park. His ice cold hands, shoved in his pockets, searched for his pack of cigarettes absent mindedly. He brought the object to his lips and quickly lit the half smoked butt. The long satisfying drag reminded him that this was the right place to be.

Steven Hyde usually followed his gut. It was understood, after living such an unstable life, that your intuition was your best bet, and not something to be ignored. While he still didn't quite understand it, he had come to realize his gut feelings were not random jolts of unimportance.

He took another deep drag and scanned the light gray skies. The brisk, piney smell of autumn was inviting.

Hyde was visiting point place. After a good five years of being gone, hopping from city to city, expanding his record business and living his dream. (Which included meeting various people and experiencing every opportunity that provided, including a few LSD trips.)

Now, here he was.

Hyde was going to catch an early flight to London tomorrow. His agent had made the call and grooves was going international. Soon there would be no more Point Place, Wisconsin, or even the conspiracy-ridden-war-pig-controlled U.S. for that matter. He would be completely and totally free.

Hyde would be free. And his parents could kiss his now accomplished, successful ass. Because he made it. Now was his time.

Time to put everything behind him. All of his hard work had finally paid off; no thanks to Edna, no thanks to Bud, no thanks to his old teacher who said he's destined to be 'the smartest guy in his cell block'.

Now he was going to fucking London. London. The places where all of his greatest idols had gone- he was going there. And where were all those who doubted him? Dead. Jail. Working some job they hated for minimum wage.

But then again, there were a few people who shined against the fogged up wall of yesteryear. Eric, Kelso, Donna, Fez, Jackie. Kitty, Red. People he would never forget. Though he would never openly admit it (Even just now being able to admit it to himself) They had his heart. Pieces of it were scattered about the states with all of them. While, he had felt content and at peace venturing around, embarking on life alone, Hyde couldn't deny the sense of something missing he had felt in his travels.

He knew something was, in fact, missing because time and time again random moments would occur where he would think;

'Man, I bet Kelso and Fez wouldn't chicken out on jumping off this roof into that pool.' Or 'Eric and Donna would really dig seeing this band live.' Or (his personal favorite) 'Man, look at that whore. Jackie would make her cry faster than you can say 'groupie'.'

He had come across so many radical people, so many he could rarely match faces to names. Hyde had seen what America had to offer outside of Point Place. And while it was exciting and a nice breath of fresh air, he soon began to understand that nothing could compare to his basement rat pack.

Yes, this visit was just what he needed.

His eyes drifted across the horizon of the small park. Trees towered above him, and the chatter of birds echoed in the morning air.

Blue eyes landed on an old wooden bench in the distance. It seemed to be rotting and the metal, rusting. His brows knitted together. "What the fuck?"

A strong sense of déjà vu came crashing over him, as he lifted his shades to get a better look around. This place was familiar, yet he couldn't recall why. Everything from the smell of burning firewood, the chatter of birds in the trees, to the light whistle of wind.

Thinking it couldn't get much weirder he fished a joint out of cigarette pat that stank of half smoked cigarettes and roaches. No one was around and the time seemed just right for some deep thought in this hidden corner of Point Place, where subtle déjà vu still lingered.

Walking through the seemingly deep foliage, Hyde took a seat on the rotting bench an lit his joint. Upon in hailing he relaxed into the bench and choked as his lungs expanded.

'Why does this place seem so familiar?' He never recalled coming here as a kid. He had spent his childhood and teenage years roaming around Point Place, of course. But the park wasn't exactly his idea of an Oasis. If anything he avoided it. It was usually full of young children, dogs, couples, or happy couples with young children and dogs.

Not exactly Hyde's idea of a great time.

So why did he feel so strangely in place right now?

He took another drag from his joint and twisted his body around to look at the wide tree trunk directly behind the bench. It was huge. Huge being an understatement. It towered high above the park as if it were looking after the rest of the trees. Gnarled branches darted in every direction. Carved into the tree were what appeared to be hundreds of names.

Hyde scoffed inwardly, 'Who's dumb enough to verify love by cutting up some tree? That's like when dumb chicks get an asshole's name tattooed on 'em. Or like when Forman tried to get 'Donna' tattooed on his ass.'

As if is subconscious scanned every inch of that bark at that split second and irony delivered a wicked slap to the face, he saw it. A few inches away from the dead center, the bark seemed to be scarring over from deep, boxy, messily carved out letters.

'DP+SH '75'

Hyde was speechless and even forgot about his joint, as a rush of memories flooded back to him.