torch, flambeau@strangeplaces.net
December 22, 2003

Disclaimer: The show got cancelled. Written as a stocking-stuffer for shalott as part of while we tell of yuletide treasure 2003. Do not archive this story without permission.

100

He waits, head down neck bent eyes on the floor mouth shut. He feels movement in the air, and waits.

He knows this presence, always, heat in a cold world, color where all else is monochrome. He knows, and doesn't flinch at the hand on his neck. That hand has touched him everywhere, with the casual iron grip of ownership, in ways no other hands ever will.

He waits. Head down neck bent eyes on the floor mouth shut. His muscles do not quiver. His breath makes no sound. That hand could hold him forever, and still he would wait.

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