In the Watches of the Night

A/N: I am writing this fic as a scaffold for the various plot-bunnies that have leapt to life as a result of my first fic for this fandom, entitled "Dear Rob" link: s/8819221/1/Dear-Rob Although you can just jump right in, reading the first story is advisable, just so you know what was going on, and why our friends are where they are. Also, please note that I am experimenting with various writing devices, which should result in creating several levels of story-telling, which in turn, will require rating some chapters as one shot Mature. Those chapters will only be referenced here with links for the interested. Any chapter that references slash or the possibility of same will be marked. Please enjoy, reviews welcome.

As usual, the ritual disclaimer - I own NUSSINK! except my own words.

Chapter 1 – Waiting and brooding

December 25, 1969

Bound Brook, New Jersey

General (Ret.) Robert E. Hogan was pacing.

Now, anyone who actually knew General Robert E. Hogan (retired – supposedly) knew that pacing was not unusual.

'Pacing' was the man's default mode.

A question he can't answer (yet), a problem he can't fix (yet again), something or someone that he's waiting for, and General Robert E. Hogan (should be damned retired by now, can't they find anybody else to do this job right?) will pace.

He will pace in what ever space he has; whether a room, a hall, a tunnel, a tent, he will stride firmly, making the rounds, one end to the other, marking time more clearly than a metronome.

A pacing Hogan is a working Hogan.

A pacing Hogan is a normal Hogan.

A pacing Hogan is a brilliant Hogan.

Because a pacing Hogan can answer any question, solve any problem, out-wait any situation, out-wit any opponent.

Except one.

And now, General Robert E. Hogan (wishing that had retired and stayed retired) is facing a cold hard fact: he's waiting for Death to claim his dearest friend – and there's nothing he can do about it.


A/N: Special thanks to Snooky, Kat, Wolfie for beta-ing this new 'verse!