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Candy cane comment fic meme: 4am

So my NCIS/Glee Puck big bang is completed and beta'd, as is faithdaria's Glee/Women of the Underworld.  No idea when they'll post, but they are completed.  *happy-dance*  

We're turning our attention to the Christmas gift prompts.  This year faithdaria is helping me out.  While I'm tilting my head at my options, I'm haunting the comment-fic lj to keep my muse going.

untitled and in no particular order:


I expect the worst.

Giles was making music his guitar in the empty bar. He had followed a Slayer here and every dawn was a gift. He alternated between strumming and the Piedmont fingerstyle. He might hum, but he wasn't following any particular song.

He heard a creak and knew it was a prosthetic leg and not a weak point of the floor. Joe sat on the stool nearby and rested his guitar on his knee. His notes started as a counterpoint and gradually filled in the melody. He wasn't trying to leverage Giles out of his funk, he was giving him the opportunity to look around it. 

The Slayer and the Immortal would either return home, or they wouldn't. It wasn't up to the Watchers. They would watch and wait and play.

Sleep, Baby, sleep


They were in Australia for an auction. Duncan was there to bid. Amanda was there to see if she had to bid to get her desire. Duncan had heard the weather report and decided that he had to experience it again.

So at four in the morning, he dragged Amanda out of bed -literally- and they drove out of Melbourne proper to look at the sky without light pollution. They curled up under a shared blanket and stared at the dancing colors of the sky. When he was young, those lights were considered a sign of God, either for good or ill. An Indian tribe of America called it a 'Dance of the Spirits.' Duncan preferred that description.

Amanda wrapped an arm around his waist and whispered. "It's as if time doesn't matter."

Duncan grinned. The aurora australis was just as breathtaking as the aurora borealis.


Dick Grayson stood alone and stared into the bleak, cheap coffin. It was nothing more than cardboard six feet in the ground. If he closed it, it was the end of a life. 

He breathed. Thankful to be alive. His thumb rubbed against the silver ring on his third finger. He would survive. He was a survivor.

He closed the lid. He needed to be done burying the casket, as makeshift as it was, before daybreak. He wanted to be there when the children awoke. 

He picked up the shovel and covered the box with dirt, never pausing as he buried, hid, killed Nightwing. Nightwing was dead, never to return.


Harold didn't fit in. He knew it and worked around it. Part of the problem was that he was on a different wavelength, different cycle from everyone else. His natural biorhythm woke him early in the day and demanded that he be in bed by midnight at the latest. He had tried to match everyone else in college, but that hadn't lasted long. Only long enough to become an insomniac and fail a test because he didn't remember anything he read after eleven thirty. He quit trying to stay up with his friends, followed his own body and worked his ass off to pull a respectable grade. He did all of his studying in the wee hours of the morning, while all but the most dedicated collapsed on their beds. There were a couple of students that he routinely passed in the halls as they were ending their day and he was beginning his.

When he joined the law firm, he had assumed those days were behind him. He was given the option to start early and took it. He needed to get the work done just as much as the other associates and if he didn't want to get fired, he had to do it when he was awake. He still did his best work at 4am. 

So did Mike, after an all nighter. It was rare for another associate to be working at that time, but Harold respected the dedication. This wasn't the first time Harold had been starting as Mike was putting his head down on his desk for a nap. Harold exchanged a wry smile with Mike, but no words. Both of them were loathe to break the silence of the offices.

This was about as peaceful as their job got.


The church bell rang, echoing over the land.


Merlin stood on the edge of the forest, between the woods and the cemetery. He watched the fog coalescence and figures solidify.


A unicorn stepped out of the woods and watched. A rabbit and a fox stood next to each other. A rainbow of magic danced through the trees.


There. That figure. His father. Balinor nodded and smiled at him. Father and son had a moment.


The moment was over. The ghosts, the unicorn and the live animals were all gone. Merlin and the subtle magic remained.