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in the early morning hours when the sun hangs low on the horizon, nick valentine lights his first cigarette.
he doesn’t get much out of it save for the nostalgia of times passed and the comforting scent of burning tobacco. he won’t admit it either, but he likes the way it makes him look. it’s got an air of mystery to it, like a stranger you catch a glance of on the train platform before he’s gone in a blink.
he quite likes the facade he’s built for himself.
the rooftop of the agency is littered with cigarette butts and empty beer bottles. he tells himself every morning he steps outside that today will be the day he cleans it up, but every day it turns into “I’ll do it tomorrow” by the time he’s done with his cigarette. when he’s lounged out in the old stadium chair atop the roof and lost in his own thoughts, he can’t bring himself to care.
he spends the first thirty minutes or so simply reminiscing, pondering hazy memories he knows aren’t even his. its a hard concept to come to terms with, the fact that every memory that existed in his head was going to completely overwritten at some point or another. his cigarette is long burnt out by now, but he spends awhile staring out as far as he could over the city and trying his damnedest to hold onto what he can remember.
he’s considered having a serious sit-down conversation with DiMA to discuss the offloading process. it’s something that, if he ever brought up the courage to do, would stay between him and his pseudo-brother.
maybe he would let ellie in on it too, if she was still around.
there’s one vivid memory he holds near and dear to whatever he has instead of a heart. he doesn’t think too hard about the fact that its not quite his; he’s not in the mood for yet another existential crisis.
he got a nasty sunburn that day. he vaguely remembers the days following the outing where jennifer would rub aloe down his back and arms, and he would bitch and moan about how much it hurt. looking back over two hundred years later, it was such a small price to pay for one of their last moments together.
it was still quite warm in the early august of 2077. nick had been planning a weekend with just the two of them for months now. sure, they had spent weekends out with each other like this before, but for what he had planned, it had to go perfectly. they spent the weekend in a cozy house on the shore of lake michigan, complete with a private beach and dock he remembers they took generous advantage of.
the specifics are getting blurry, but he recalls the hours he spent trying to impress her with flips and dives off of the dock while she sat and sunbathed nearby, giving him a rating out of ten for each dive he attempted. she made him feel young again, as if he were a teenager trying to court his high school crush. they had been together for years at this point, but still, he spent every moment around her as if they had just started dating. it kept them both on their toes.
although he doesn’t have much to equate to a beating heart anymore, he can almost feel the racing in his chest the last night they stayed on the beach when he excused himself into the house for a moment. he tears apart their shared bedroom looking for the little box he had packed away and prayed she wouldn’t find. he can almost recall how his hands shook as he met her outside again just in time for the sun to set over the horizon. she’s too distracted with the sunset to notice he had returned, only looking up once he settled himself in the sand beside her and dressed a little kiss to her cheek.
here, as nick stares out at the beginnings of a bustling diamond city, he realizes he doesn’t quite recall as much as he thought he was able to.
he doesn’t remember the ring he bought. he knew it wasn’t a diamond; it was something he had spent weeks speaking with jewelers and perfecting. but no matter how long he had spent designing the ring, he couldn’t remember the damned thing.
if he thinks a little harder, he can’t quite remember her reaction to his initial proposal. maybe she cried. or maybe she had pulled him into a hug, holding him tight and refusing to let go to even check if it fit.
the latter seems more like something she would do.
he can’t remember what he was wearing, or what she was wearing. maybe he had taken her out to get her nails done before the trip; she seemed particular in the little ways from the bits nick can recall. he can’t remember too much from the trip besides her lounging in the sun and the fact that no matter how hard he tried to convince her, she wasn’t too fond of the water. he can’t remember the trip back home or boasting to everyone he knew that he was finally engaged to the love of his life.
he’s sitting up in his seat now. he’s staring blankly across buildings and gardens until he’s finally pulled out of his thoughts by the door opening. he realizes it’s only ellie when he glances over.
“sorry to bother, but your eight am appointment is downstairs.” she starts, frowning just a little as she looks him over. maybe he has a certain look on his face, because she looks a little sad once she catches his eye. “but take your time. get your head straight.”
he doesn’t speak as he watches her step back inside and close the door behind her. he’s itching for another cigarette, but with a client downstairs, he doesn’t have the time. he stands instead, dusting ash off of his pants and letting out a hefty sigh.
maybe it was worth taking a trip to see DiMA after all. just to save the best parts.