Elizabeth Rodgers fingered the letter in the pocket of her jeans, not needing to read it as she had memorised each word written in the careful cursive handwriting.
"...I cannot fully express my gratitude for the comfort you have brought me. While his death still brings much sadness, the knowledge that my son's soul is not condemned by suicide is a blessing..."
Rodgers squeezed Ross' hand, needing to share the warmth the words always brought, and he responded with a puzzled smile.
"I was thinking about Angelo."
Ross nodded, the action stirring his curls, and she tried to pinpoint the time they had become more grey than black. It was a stupid exercise; just her mind trying to avoid more troubling thoughts.
"It's hard to think that before..." Her words faltered and she pulled her hand from her pocket, waving it about to take in the square and the recently rebuilt One Police Plaza in front of them. Rodgers carried on hastily.
"The poor woman would have spent the rest of her days believing her son had taken his own life. After all, that's what the evidence indicated, and nothing in the post mortem contradicted the findings."
It was Ross' turn to squeeze her hand.
"Then it's a good job you were on the case and that it happened after..." His words trailed off and he mimicked her gesture, both of them still finding it difficult to talk about the events of a year ago. "You go on ahead; I want to grab a paper."
"Anything wrong, Danny?"
Sometimes Rodgers wished that she could touch him and know what was going on in his head, the things he concealed with witty one-liners or a gesture of affection. But he'd have to be dead for her to do that. He'd come too close to that a year ago for her to ever want to experience it again. She shuddered at the memory. Ross' sharp blue eyes caught the motion.
"Hey, don't worry. I'd know if anything bad was about to happen." Yes, he'd know but that didn't mean he'd tell her. His eyes softened. "I just want my crossword fix, Elizabeth. I aim to beat Goren's time one day and maybe it'll be today."
They both smiled at that unlikely prospect. Rodgers straightened a little, already beginning to don her professional persona of Chief Medical Examiner in preparation for the day ahead.
"Shame your premonitions don't extend to such trivialities, I'd be placing a bet with Logan."
Their laughter was a little forced.
Captain Danny Ross relaxed as he watched Rodgers stride off towards the main doors; she would have seemed mannish if it wasn't for the way her stylish bobbed hair swung as she walked, its rich copper tones flashing in the early morning sun. Private time with Elizabeth was precious and he savoured every moment but today he wanted a little time alone before he started work - time to reflect.
A year!
A year since the New York City Police Department Headquarters, more commonly known as One Police Plaza or 1PP, had collapsed. A year since he had nearly died, since he had discovered that he was not the only one who had... a secret. Such revelations were earth -shattering but the world had continued to turn and the sun still rose every morning. Ross studied the building before him; a red brick monolith rising up from the square, its banks of blank windows keeping watch over the city. Thanks to a limited budget, and the limited imaginations of the city planners, 1PP did not look much different from how it had looked a year ago.
Like everything else - like us,Ross mused, as he wandered over to the newspaper vendor. The real changes were deeper, hidden away from prying eyes. Only someone familiar with the way things had been would notice the subtle differences. But the changes were not subtle to those affected. Instead they were a constant pointed reminder that they were different, that their lives would never be the same again.
With a sigh Ross tucked the paper under his arm and made his way into the building.
The elevator seemed to take an eternity to arrive and as the seconds ticked by the tightness in Ross' chest increased. This was not a prediction of the future, just a phantom of the past. A lengthy stay in hospital followed by months of physical therapy had dealt with the physical damage but the memories...
The 'ping' announcing the arrival of the elevator was a welcome interruption to his thoughts and Ross only felt a brief pang as he took a deep breath and entered the car. His stomach fluttered and made him feel a little queasy. No, that was not a premonition, either. Just nerves. Odd, because it was not his first day back and all the big decisions had already been debated and decided. This first anniversary was certainly having an effect on him. Elizabeth, too, if she was carrying around that letter like a talisman. He wondered how the others were faring.
The first thing he saw as the doors opened onto the eleventh floor caused his already unsettled stomach to lurch. 'Special Services Division' the freshly painted sign announced. No more Major Case Squad. Not since some wag had nicknamed them the Mutant Cop Squad, especially not since it had been abbreviated to MuCoS - a name that had unfortunately stuck.
The bank of fire extinguishers on the wall beneath the sign were another new addition, the result of many hours spent with a man with a grey suit and a clipboard who had gone on and on about risk assessments as if they were the Holy Grail. The members of this department were voyagers in uncharted territory, who knew what risks there could be? Still, considering Falacci's temper, maybe the additional fire extinguishers were a good idea.
Ross' mind reeled and he reached out a hand to steady himself. The solid brick wall was a reassuring support as he closed his eyes, chaotic images churning in his head. This was a premonition. He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out a small Dictaphone and began to speak into it, describing the vision, trying to focus on the small details that would indicate time, place and who was involved. But it was hard to concentrate amid the sound of screams, the sight of bodies prone on the sidewalk and the feelings of panic and confusion.
Gradually the vision faded and Ross leaned back against the wall, taking a moment to compose himself. He still wasn't accustomed to the way his 'gift' disorientated him, he didn't think he ever would be. He tried to vocalise the pervasive sensation of dread that indicted, whatever this incident was, it meant something bad was going to happen to someone close, maybe even himself. A feeling that was all too familiar. Perhaps it was just the anniversary that made it seem so disturbing. He hoped so. Still, it wouldn't be good to show the squad he was worried, not if they were already unsettled by their own memories.
Remembering to add the date and time to his recording, Ross slipped the Dictaphone back into his pocket, threw back his shoulders and strode into the bullpen.