Notes : Set with permission in Uncle Steve's very cool 'Light In The Darkness' run of stories. Recommend reading 'em. Like, now. http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=559504.

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Ever have one of those evenings where you know something's just waiting for midnight? The day goes in a blur, but dusk makes it all slow down, and you stare at the seconds going by on your watch. When they start going backwards ... well, something's going to happen.

Actually, something has happened, it's probably Keeting in the Theoretical Forces lab playing with magnetism that man wasn't meant to ken of. I lose more watches that way, but that's beside the point. Skin itches and you can't keep still, so you just sit back, beat a tattoo with your fingers on the office table and say, "Bring it on".

"Bring what on?"

Damn, did I say that aloud? Guess so. Else Eve has developed new and interesting telepathy. Not that I wouldn't put it past her, but she'd probably have killed me already if she had. What can I say? The girl really works that suit. Down impure thoughts, down.

"Eh ... just one of those nights, you know?"

"Not really, should I be worried?"

Ah, the wonderful earnest expression of the rookie who hasn't yet learned that getting worried about every little portent of doom, strange smell from the work rooms or rampaging demon from the hell dimensions eating your co-workers only gets you an ulcer, a violent twitch and a drinking problem. I cite Franklins as an example. How the guy can still function is beyond me, he's like a pained cucaracha.

"Relax, I don't do premonition, I'm just antsy tonight. Hate monitor duty."

"But … you're not on monitor duty, you're in the common room. You're always in the common room."

You know, she really is kinda cute when her nose wrinkles up all confused.

"Well, yes. But I'm thinking if I was on monitor duty, I'd be like this, and it's bringing back painful flashbacks I'd rather not get into. Old wounds. Therapy. Really bad. They don't let me near them anymore. Not after The Soap Incident."

I can see the question forming on her lips before the bottom one is slightly drawn into her mouth and bitten as she returns to her impressively dusty looking book.

Twenty-three hundred hours and forty-five minutes. Allow for that fact the watch has been running backwards for the last ten minutes, and we're nearing the hour of the wolf. Waiting for the howl that doesn't appear to want to happen, I look to the door. Surely something will burst through it wielding certain death. Or, maybe, just Charlie from Level C.

"Hey Charlie. Anything breathing hellfire and destruction on an apocalyptical level sneaking after you?"

"Hey Eve."

Sure, just ignore me; make puppy eyes at the one with nice legs. See if I care.

"Hello Charlie, I thought you were taking the night off?"

It's very nearly nauseating watching them making with the soppy looks. Honestly, they're like a couple of teenagers, both too shy to make the first move. I'd interfere, but it's not really my place. Plus, I can mercilessly tease them about it after they finally get it together.

"Uh … well, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go get something to eat … maybe?"

My man Charlie!

"I'd love to, I just have something to finish up first, okay?"

He blushes, she blushes. I want a camera, then a bucket.

"Uhm, sure, yeah."

He's on his way out, and I know it's midnight when the door closes behind him. She looks at me and suddenly I don't much want to tease her.

"What?"

"It's time to go Luke."

"But …"

"No."

She's shaking her head and standing, a couple of words with too few vowels for my liking and it feels like molasses as I try and do the same. Can't speak, can't breath, can't think, there's only midnight and her whisper.

"You've been dead for a year Luke, it's time to go."

My last thought is that might explain why my co-workers have been just a touch standoffish of late.

And then, there's only midnight.