Did you know that the tradition of birthday candles can be traced back to as far as ancient Greece? Yes, the citizens would place them atop a moon-shaped birthday cake to appease Artemis, the moon goddess. The candles gave the cake a moon-like glow and the smoke that drifted upward was considered an offering to their goddess. Then, in the 15th century, the Europeans took that concept and expanded upon it. For them, the candles were meant to ward off evil spirits and bring good to the birthday celebrant. There would be one candle for each year of the person's life, along with an extra candle that was thought to ensure luck and prosperity. By blowing out the candles, one was sending his wishes up to the deity above.

When you get to be my age, one cannot expect a candle for each year without the fear of setting fire, nor does one normally bother with extra candles or wishes to God. When you get to be my age, a birthday is merely a reminder of all you have accomplished in your life, as well as a prayer that more may be accomplished still. Morbid though it is, when you get to be my age, one cannot help but look at each birthday cake and wonder if it will be the last.

"Happy birthday to you!" they all sang in a shaky, off-key rendition of the popular tune. "Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear Ducky! Happy birthday to you!"

As they all patted my back, offering their congratulations and well-wishes, Abigail and Ziva placed a rather large cake in front of me. I peered to see what kind of cake it was, but found it difficult to see any details of the cake due to the large number of candles blazing atop it. I didn't dare count to see if every year of my life was accounted for on that cake; it would have taken far too long. I did, though, marvel at how Abigail (as there was no doubt in my mind that she was responsible for this audacious disregard of the NCIS fire safety code) had managed to find a cake large enough to house my entire life.

I smiled reflectively at that, not sure if I should consider the concept of our lives being defined by a sugary confection good or bad. And yet there is so much of ourselves that can be seen as we gaze upon our yearly treat. For each candle, there is a memory, a milestone, a part of our lives that made us the people we are.

My eyes flickered across the rows of glowing candles, giving each one a meaning. One for my birth. Another for my first memory. A grouping of candles for my many years spent in academia. One for the end of my life in Scotland and another for my new life here in the United States.

One for my first kiss. One for my first love. One for my first moment of pure intimacy. One for my first heartbreak. One, even, for the nonexistent marriage which often enters my mind, the children and grandchildren who will never be.

A candle for my years at NCIS. Perhaps more importantly, a candle for each of the people with whom I had worked, the people who had almost always smiled patiently as I bored them with a story from my life, a story that held importance for no one but myself, and whom I had come to know as my own family.

Two in the center, one for each of my parents (may they rest in peace). A multitude of candles for my recollections of them both: some good, some bad, some bittersweet.

Finally, my eyes fell upon one lone candle at the end of the line, the one with nothing attached to it but the future. My future; what was left of it, at least. A single burning candle, yet it held so many possibilities in its flame. Choices still to make, things still to do, people still to meet, and friendships still to forge.

For me, that candle was everything. It was my candle of the unknown, my candle of promise, and I couldn't help but watch it burn, watch as drops of wax slowly dribbled down onto the frosting. The flame wavered a bit atop the candle's wick, but it held strong. I hoped that it was a sign that I, much like the flame, still had a good deal of life in me yet.

There was a gentle kiss against my cheek. "You've got to blow them out, Duckman. Otherwise, you won't get your wish."

"Yes, I know, Abigail," I said, my tone wry. "I believe I've had more birthdays than most of you combined."

I closed my eyes and thought of all the things I wanted in life; too many to choose for the single birthday wish one was allotted, but things that, perhaps, I could achieve in the remainder of my life, without the divine help of the "birthday gods" or whomever we were to believe grants these secret birthday wishes.

Seventy-seven candles on the cake. The only thing I could truly wish for was to live long enough to see seventy-seven more.

AN: This was my fifth entry in the LFWS competition. Thank you for reading!