The rink was quiet. Dim, save for the lights left to illuminate the ice. Breathing though he didn’t need to, just to see the cold, he steadied himself before opening the door, and stepping onto the ice, stick in hand. The sound of his skate blades cutting the ice hit his ears, and he felt zoned in.
The rink had been set up for a little league’s hockey practice, but the nets hadn’t been put away, which is exactly what Casey had hoped for. He skated toward the center of the ice, and dropped the puck, edging it dead center with the blade of his stick, before he began to circle it, still breathing meditatively as he did so. Until he was ready.
He stopped when he was ready, and closed his eyes. There was no game here, no team, yet he still felt the beginnings of that adrenaline rush. Tonight’s journey was about scoring goals rather than protecting people, as there was no one there who needed protection.
Reopening his eyes, he looked down, zeroing in on the puck. He skated to an appropriate angle, and began to skate towards the home goal net, moving the puck back and forth with the stick blade, his breathing controlled; measured.
Some distance away, he took his shot. An easy goal. Retrieving the puck, he went back to center, and began again, aiming to get goals from further and further out, until he missed. Making goals was certainly something he was capable of, but he never got to do it often.
Being rusty, he only made about a third of the goals he attempted. Scowling, he skated up and down the length of the rink before trying again. He did better this time. Satisfied, he pocketed the puck, and simply skated, the blade of his hockey stick skimming the ice as he did so.
The sound of his skates cutting the ice as he went was soothing to him. He allowed himself to get lost in memories of games past; of triumphs and losses. Of his last game.
His skating slowed as he thought of his last game, before picking up speed a final time around the rink before heading back to the gate.
He didn’t see anyone standing nearby. He didn’t hear as they approached.
“You skate beautifully.” a voice sounded.
Casey looked up, startled. “Marcus. What are you doing here?”
“Just watching you.” they replied.
“How did you know I was here?” he asked.
Marcus shrugged. “I have my ways.”
“It would seem so.” Casey said, making his way to the bench where he’d left his things, walking expertly in the skates.
“That cannot be easy.” he commented, watching Casey walk.
“It takes practice. Just like anything.” he replied, sitting down.
“I can’t speak to if you’re a good hockey player or not.” Marcus admitted. “But I can tell you know what you are doing.”
“I should. I’ve been playing since I was six. Been skating longer.” he admitted.
“How many years does that make for you?” Marcus asked, genuinely curious.
“Eighteen years. Ten in the minors, four in the QMJHL, and four in the NHL.” he said, a small sigh to his explanation.
“You miss it?” Marcus asked.
“I do.” Casey explained as he leaned over to untie his skates.
“I’m sorry.” Marcus stated.
“For what?” he responded, looking up.
“That you had to leave that life behind. Do you still skate?” he asked.
Casey shook his head, then pulled off his skates.
“Why not?” he asked.
Casey paused, thinking over the answer. “I don’t know.”
Liar a little voice inside him said, but he ignored it.
“If you say so.” Marcus simply said after a few moments’ analyzation.
“So why search me out?” he asked.
“I thought we could continue our lessons, or perhaps you could show me more of the city.” he stated. “Assuming you are available, of course.”
“I believe so.” he said. He next tied his shoes, placed the guards on his skate blades, and tied the laces together so they could be slung over his shoulder.
He stood and smiled. “Thank you, again, for agreeing to teach me.”
“Of course. I enjoy teaching those willing to learn.” he responded, following Casey out of the arena. Once they were outside the building, he continued. “I especially appreciate the fact you are seeking to branch out and be more than your Clan.”
Casey nodded, unsure of how to respond to that. When they reached his car, he stopped. “Unless something comes up, I’m your student for the evening.”
“Good.” Marcus said with a smile. “Let us go then.”
Casey nodded and slipped into the car, Marcus following suit. A short time later, Casey began to drive, and the lessons would soon begin.