I started writing this one quite a few months ago. Before I post it, I have to thank Steve for his blurb in his episode guide for "Birthmarks" which gave me a lot of inspiration for this story. A big hug goes out to Fran for her encouragement, kindness, and comments on the rough drafts, and the same goes for all those who read the first drafts and told me what you thought. A friendly kupo and cookies for Al, who introduced me to Nine Inch Nails, whose music inspired much of this story. And always, thanks to Sin Yi and Ponce for just being there to lift me out of my own emotional swamp. :) Thank you to all the artists who make such beautiful music for me to listen to and be inspired by while writing.

This is yet another alternate ending. Yeah, yeah, I know. It's an alternate ending to the episode "Mirador's Brain". The timeline for this story follows the original USA Network running order, with the exception of "Crossfired". This means that "Mirador's Brain" follows shortly after "Tatania" and I've placed "Crossfired" before either of these episodes. Since no one knows the real story order, I suppose I can get away with this. :)

This story contains disturbing images in it. I'm not sure what it's rated.

These characters are property of DC Comics, BBK, Batfilm, DIC, etc., etc. This story is in no way trying to infringe on that copyright. Please don't repost this anywhere without my permission, and in no way should you redistribute this for any kind of commercial purpose.

Email me your comments, both good and bad, or post 'em here.

Lastly, during the ending scenes, if you can, you may want to put the latest Sara McLachlan CD in your stereo, put it on the song "I Love You" and keep it on REPEAT. :)

Dedicated to Sin Yi

And to the memory of Kim Yale

"the lunatic is in my head
the lunatic is in my head
you raise the blade
you make the change
you rearrange me 'till i'm sane
you lock the door, throw away the key
there's someone in my head, but it's not me"
"Brain Damage", Pink Floyd

"it all keeps adding up
I think I'm cracking up..."
"Basket Case", Green Day

~~ECSTAGONY~~

Up High

"I've got it! It's the rate of mitosis, not the cell number! No wonder the experiment has gone wrong all these -- AUGHHH..."
Breathe.
In.
Out.
He had thrown a rock at a racoon, once.

"Geffstein was an utter moron! I see it now! His equation *can* be negated! Barriers of time *can* be crossed, it's possible, I'm sure of it... yes! Yes, you just add... you add..."
//"What do you add to the formula, Anton?"
"The rate of momentum... of -- of course."
"NO! My God, why do I even bother with you? Sit down. Listen, I'll show you. Look here..."//
He had wanted to see what the impact of a flying object would do to the brain of an insentient creature. The racoon was fortunate enough to have been volunteered for the momentous experiment.
(It was a rather large rock.)
"NO!!! We almost had it! This could be the most celebrated accomplishment in all of physics! We can do this, old man... just impart a few more grains of wisdom to me..."
Breathe. In. Out.
The epiphanies were few and far between now -- but he couldn't give up, dammit, he couldn't!! The knowledge. He had to have it, NOW. But in between the knowledge --
The rock hurtled toward it's target with the force of a bullet. There was a sick *CRUNCH*, a dull THUD. The racoon cub gave out an agonized shriek that rang in his ears, unerasable by time. Dying, yet unable to die, the little creature suffered for long minutes before shuddering and gazing up at the cloudless sky with blind eyes.
He was a murderer at age ten.

// "What do you add to the formula, Anton?"//
// "I'm growing old, boy. What do you add?"//
// "What's the answer, Anton?"//
"SHUT UP, old man!!!" came the frustrated cry. His eyes widened for a moment.
The racoon screamed.

~~~

His own face tormented him within his dreams. At first, the beginning confusion had subsided. Graham had left to go after the girl, and it became safe enough for him to unhook himself from the chair. He remembered at first being consumed by a sense of giddy elation. He had DONE it!! He had kept the brain of his late, great mentor alive, and he had tapped himself into the man's brilliance! He remembered the soaring high that seemed to lift his entire being as he became one with perhaps the only creature that had every truly understood him, for however briefly. The memories of the minute-long panic, of the strange sensation that something he had downloaded into himself was not Mirador -- passed and faded.
Sometimes Mirador's secrets and theories would dance tauntingly out of even his large threshold of comprehension; other times, the information would hit him in a short burst, like lightning. But oh... it was glorious. So glorious.
// "My God, what's happening to me?"//
He rested little, forgot to eat. The quest for recording and comprehending this new fount of knowledge drove him with single-minded obsession.
//*"Anton..."*//
It was then that he started hearing the voice.
//*"Anton, I am speaking to you..."*// The mirror... dammit, why had he looked in the mirror?!
// "You're just a hallucination!"//
Mirador was in the mirror, talking to him, in his mind but not, telling him the parts of his life that he had never shared... and there was something sinister about his old mentor...
//*"It's quid pro quo -- a brain for a brain!"*//
He, Anton Arcane, was to share every bit of knowledge -- EVERYTHING he could with Carl Mirador. But something had gone horribly wrong -- he had succeeded in his experiment far too well. He was to share everything.
//*"The doctors called it schizophrenia..."*//
The twisted mask of abject terror and anguish that stared back at him through the mirror couldn't have been his face. But it was.

~~~

The lab floor was strewn with papers; in fact, ninety percent of the lab was a horrible mess. At least his face had gone back to normal, somehow -- as if the darkness in his head became more concerned with tormenting his soul than with aesthetics. The doctor was on the paper-strewn lab floor, curled up in a little ball. "Mirador, STOP!!! Uhhnnn..."
*"You know there's only one way to get out of this, boy. My better side knew. We told you before."*
There were a few short gasps. "My head's on fire..." he moaned. The burning was worse now, he was sure of it.
*"Even I have to admit, death was rather peaceful. Suicide is extremely easy. It only takes a little courage. Do you have that kind of courage, Anton?"*
Arcane clutched his head, screaming.
There was a timid knock on the doors to the laboratory. "Dr. Arcane, sir?"
Arcane's voice sounded very tired to Graham. "Get out of here, Graham."
Graham stayed outside respectfully. The doors were locked shut, and couldn't be opened by motion sensor at this point. "Dr. Arcane, are you all--"
"I'm just a bit indisposed right now."Arcane's voice sounded very tired to Graham. "Get out of here, Graham."
Graham's forehead wrinkled in concern. "Um... Mirador's granddaughter kind of... escaped."
"Forget about her."
That took Graham aback. "Um... all right." There was a pause. "Be careful in there."
Silence. Arcane sighed deeply, his entire body shuddering.
*"Give up, Anton. Look around you. Your lab is in a shambles. You've got nothing left to live for."*
"Just shut up," Arcane countered lamely, his faculties for vocabulary fatigued.
*"The only way to end the pain is to die."*
"Mirador..."

// "What is it, boy? Calm down! Your eyes look like they're going to pop out."
"I figured it out! The experiment's a success now! Just have a look at this data!" "I knew you could do it. I'm proud, I really am."//

// "Why hello there. Are you the lady of the house?"
"Grampa, dere's a strange man at the door!"
"Don't worry my dear, I'm not a stranger."

Ummm... I don't know you. My mommy and daddy said not ta' talk ta' strangers."
"Well, that's good. I'm a... pupil, if you will... of your grandfather's."
"Oh. Grampa's in his sad mood today. He can't talk ta' anyone."
"...Oh. Well... I'll try back another time. Thank you."
"Bye-bye."//
*"That's it. Put the gun in your mouth."* Arcane obeyed, trembling. He cocked the gun. *"Put your finger on the trigger. That's it. Gently. Good boy. What, doubts in your mind, Anton? Your life is a wreck. Your keen mind is slowly going to pieces. The only way to escape this trap is death."* Arcane closed his eyes tight, nodding slightly. But a tiny thought suddenly glimmered weakly in his brain. Maybe... maybe he didn't have to die? Maybe there were still parts of his life that remained worth living... perhaps? Maybe his mind would get better. Maybe he didn't have to kill himself. Slowly, he took the gun out of his mouth. It whipped around in his hand. Bullets smashed into the mirror, powdering the already-shattered glass, as the scientist let out a cry of pent-up frustration and rage.
He got up shakily and put on his coat.
*"Anton, look at you. You're acting like an animal."
"Shut up." He wished he could have slammed the doors on the way out.

~~~

His feet took him nowhere in particular around Houma, here and there, while he followed numbly; into the drugstore, through back alleys, toward the swamp.
He guzzled Tylenol like it was Pepsi, but the pain in his head didn't cease. The thoughts that he usually shoved to the back of his mind began to plague him more than ever.
No one understands the work I do. The troglodytes don't even care. Not even Graham fully comprehends. Theories that were given up because he or she couldn't stretch their puny minds, riddles left unsolved. I have the capacity, I carry the genius. I can salvage these misshapen bits of science, solve problems, the planet's problems. And does anyone care? Does anyone appreciate? No, no, and no. They dismiss it all as demented flotsam, as nothing.
He looked up and dimly realized that he had made his way into the swamp. He wandered again through the mire, directionless, lost in his own dark meanderings. His silent soliloquies gave him little comfort, accompanied by older, darker whisperings that he hardly ever heard anymore, perhaps only in his nightmares.
...you're a user, Arcane, you're a user...
"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered, pushing past the heavy foliage.
yes you do you use people and things use them use them use them never giving back never selfless as you'd like to believe always wanting something in return... you want the paper the little green slips of paper and you're only willing to be merciful if you can name your price...
"One is entitled to use one's tools to their utmost advantage -- and I see nothing wrong with a reward for my brilliance, now and again."
*"This exactly why she doesn't want you, Anton. Just look at what you're saying."*
Arcane stopped up short in his tracks. His voice was very soft. "What?"
*"We were dead for a while, you know. We spoke briefly with her, Carl and I."*
Arcane tried to keep calm, as a frenzy started to boil over in his blood. His voice was hoarse. "What did she say?"
Mirador seemed to grin darkly within his words. *"You're as dead to her as she is to you."*
My God no oh my God no "Liar," Arcane seethed.
*"It wouldn't hurt so much if it wasn't the truth, Anton. Have we ever lied to you?"*
"It's a bloody lie and you know it!!! I--" He cried out suddenly, clutching his head as he leaned against a tree, feverishly searching his coat pockets for his notepad. He fished it out, and began scribbling furiously. In the background, behind the noisy hum of information on quantum particles and molecular waveforms was a hissing whisper, that upon close inspection, sounded like
money money money money money

~~~

*"Have you ever been with a woman, Anton?"*
Arcane sat on the ground, his back to a massive tree trunk, clutching his head and rocking back and forth. "Stop it..."
*"Or a man, for that matter?"*
"You're all in my mind!" Arcane declared, his eyes wild. "All I have to do is overcome you, and you'll go away!!"
*"Just keep telling yourself that, boy. And you didn't answer my question. Respond when I talk to you."*
"I'm hardly some trembling virgin," Arcane snapped.
*"Hmmm... ever been in a meaningful relationship since your wife's accident? Someone who understood your very soul? Hmm, let's see... No? Do you know why?"*
"No one can match my brilliance but you, Mirador, and I think that relationship would be hardly appropriate."
*"Wrong!"* exclaimed the mental voice, almost in glee. *"It's because no one will have you! You're a monster of a man, Anton. Unfortunate, but true. Everyone knows it. Everyone says it."*
"Death has addled you, Mirador. I don't need anyone."
*"Yes you do. But no one understands you. No one cares about you. No one would give one whit or shed one tear if you died, and no one's happy that you're alive. You see, no one mourns for a user, Anton."* There was a pause, and then a throaty mental chuckle. *"But you've got us to keep you company forever."*
"Oh bloody joy."

~~~

He spent hours trudging aimlessly through the bog, consumed by the darkness inside his skull. Day blackened into night.


"nothing can kill me
no matter how hard i try"
"Blow Up The Outside", Soundgarden

...insane trash insane trash garbage madness nonsense hateful monster no one to love you no one to care user user user... not another day can't take another day everyone hates you don't take another day don't let the clock spin anymore you want immortality you've got it Arcane stop time escape... death peaceful dark death an end to the pain and the foil of time... stop time Anton, and DO it...
The swamp seemed to know that there was something crawling in it that didn't belong, an intruder of some sort. It seemed that everything was keeping an eye on him, even the moon. Yes, everything was watching him, Arcane was sure of it.
*"You don't belong here, you know."*
Arcane kept walking.
*"You belong in Auschwitz with a swastika on your arm."*


//"You must stop this, Anton. It's not right."
" 'Not right'. Mirador, this very experiment could bring huge, unprecedented advances to the world of science!"
"All you care about advancing is your wallet."
"Well bloody hell, Mirador! I think I'll just eat directly out of this trash can. Yes, that's what I'll do. Being the altruistic man of science that I am, I think that I'll just fling all my money and earthly possessions to charity like a good little scientist, and sleep here on the floor of my laboratory. That's it! I'll never have to pay rent."
"You've changed."
"Yes Mirador, I have. Because I'm willing to do what it takes to turn these vague glimmering notions into working pieces of genius. That's why I'm getting things done."
"Dammit, listen to me boy! This is unethical. You can't--"
"I haven't handed my homework in to you in over ten years, old man. I don't need to defend myself to you."//

News passed quickly in the swamp. On the wind, in the air, in the water.
"So," murmured the swamp's guardian, "Arcane has come back to the swamp."
taint, whispered the swamp, taint, wrongness, intruder, NOT RIGHT!!!
The creature that was once a man sighed deeply. "Arcane is not in his right mind any longer," he said to himself grimly. "If he's a danger to even himself right now, he's most likely a danger to others." Involuntarily, he gave a low, guttural growl deep in his throat. The swamp was a thriving ecosystem in perfect balance. The slightest rip of the delicate life-web could cause irrevocable damage.
And now Arcane was in the swamp, losing his mind.
Alec had a feeling that he was going to have his hands full.

~~~

Arcane splashed some water on his face from one of the nearby myriad pools. He had to snap himself out of this, these crazy thoughts spiralling through his brain!
But it was no use. The black waves of depression crashed down on him once more. He felt strangely cold inside.
Dammit, he was Anton Arcane, and he had his own mind!!!
*"Do you really believe that?"*
He started walking again. It couldn't get worse than this. Inconceivable. It wouldn't get worse.

~~~

Hidden from view, camouflaged completely by his plant-like exterior, Alec Holland frowned in worry as he watched his nemesis stagger through the bog. He hoped dearly that the little family-killer wasn't about to try something twisted. The thought of Arcane at all already turned what used to be his stomach, but the thought of an insane Arcane disturbed him even more. He was terribly tired of watching those dearest to him get hurt over and over and over. It made his heart ache with sorrow. He didn't want Arcane to try anything; didn't want another conflict; didn't want more pain. He watched the scientist closely.
The doctor screamed, clutching his head tightly.
Alec's leafy eyebrows raised. He heard his adversary speak.
"My brain's exploding... Mirador...." Arcane rocked his body back and forth, sobbing in agony. "...stop your torments... I'm your student... I'm just a little boy..."
He collapsed, trembling all over in pain.
The swamp's guardian stared at his antagonist for long moments of silent mulling. Quietly, decisively, he walked out from the foliage and placed two cool green fingertips on the man's forehead.
Arcane's eyes fluttered closed, and his ragged breathing became even.
"Sleep a dreamless sleep, Arcane," Alec intoned.

~~~

When he awoke, it was raining. It was a dull, cold rain, the drops splattering upon him, pattering on the ground monotonously. Arcane picked himself up out of the mud and shivered. "I'm going to receive pneumonia if I don't get out of this bloody swamp," he muttered. But he made no effort to move. Instead, he leaned back against a tree and sighed, the rain driving steadily without benefit of breeze. Arcane ran a hand through his hair. It all seemed so pointless, now, so meaningless and empty. Why go on? He could record all of Mirador's knowledge, and then what? Go on with his science, right -- and to achieve what end? No one appreciated his genius, nor his efforts. The promise of money, power, the proverbial "good life" glimmered far more dimly than before. His goals, always thwarted, spun around him and powdered. So, so pointless. It was always one step forward and two steps back, and it always would be. All he could do to pull himself ahead, all he had done, was to suck off others like a hungry tick until Life itself despised him. Arcane felt trapped, like a white lab rat in a wire cage. There would be no future for him nor a release from this horrid madness. His life would be as bleak as the grey-washed sky that peeked through the leaves above him.
He had to die. He WANTED to die...
"HA!" Arcane spun around abruptly, triumphantly, as if catching someone in the act of something sordid. "A more subtle assault than most, Mirador. I'll give you that much." He snarled wolfishly, grim resolve gripping him. "If it spites you for me to stay alive, then I'll proceed to search for eternal life. You won't find peace before I do, old man."
Fire seared and crackled through Arcane's wounded mind. The doctor stumbled.
*"My, my, Anton. Look at the wealth of malice and spite your little noggin serves up."*
Arcane let out a strangled cry. "Mirador, for pity..."
*"This isn't my fault, Anton. If you hadn't corrupted yourself this much in the past, your mind wouldn't be this scarred."*
Raw, incoherent emotion erupted within Arcane's brain. Not my FAULT!!!
// "Arcane ..."//
// "It's Arcane, isn't it? I knew it!"//
// "Damn you, Arcane."//
// "...monster of a man..."//
// "Dammit, Arcane!!!"//
Why is everything always MY fault, Mirador? You could never begin to understand my mind, no one does...
*"That's right. It's too twisted to make sense of anymore."*
Dammit, that's a lie!! He pushed himself away from the tree, screaming at everything and no one. "I'll beat you!! The lot of you!!! I'll defy you Mirador, and I'll defy Alec, and this cursed city, and the gods of every man on this planet!" He laughed, giddy with his own fiery hatred.
*"You shouldn't have done that, Anton. Up until now, God was the only help you had left."*

~~~

Betrayed. Betrayed. Everyone has betrayed me to vilest excess. The minute I turn my back, something goes wrong... Holland, Dr. Fisk, everyone in that God-forsaken Kipp family -- they all set out to sabotage what I do. And why? So perhaps I try to indulge in the rewards that naturally go along with my brilliance? Is that so wrong? A little money?
*"Hmm. 'A little money.' What about 'a little power'? They go hand in hand."*
"Exactly!" Arcane shouted triumphantly, as if finally breaking through to an incredibly dense student. "None of you could grow up, Mirador! Power is mother's milk. But none of you could drag yourselves away from Neverland long enough to see that!" He sank to his knees at the water's edge, exhausted. Arcane caught sight of his reflection in the water and winced. His eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed, sunken with shadows, his face was haggard, and a strand of his hair was grey. He yanked it out with ferocity. "My God, look at me..." he breathed, horrified. "I'm falling apart... See!? Look what you're doing to me! Even you turn on me!" A laugh devoid of sanity escaped him. "Yes, heh, why not then? Very well! Everyone else has!"
In a sudden movement, he put his head in his hands, curling up on himself as if shielding the core of his being from the world. "Mother, she couldn't face the world's realities either, you see. Went stark raving mad."
*"Like us?"*
NOT like us! Not like ME! "Shut up!!!" A pause. "She ruined everything, she did... and--" His entire body shuddered violently. "...Tatania..."
He rocked back and forth slowly. "God damn it, she ruined it too, she went and destroyed herself..." He closed his eyes. "TATANIA!!!"
Silence. "Tatania... God damn me... Tatania..." He opened his eyes wide, then closed them again, shutting out the world, crying helplessly.
forgive me forgive me forgive me while i burn in hell eternally for what i've done for pity on my soul forgive me and end this blasted grief...
The whispers came back. End the grief End the grief End the grief
His mind screamed. You didn't have to go and do it! I could have tested it on someone else, you were more important, you knew that...
*"Was she, Anton? It didn't seem like you made that very clear when you drove yourself to perfect your precious formula, when the obsession took you. And now look at you. No wonder she doesn't want any part of you. No one will have you, Anton, and she's no exception."*
Dammit woman, why won't you come back to me? You don't like the man I've become? Well here's a pretty newsflash, Tatania: YOU MADE ME LIKE THIS!!!
End the grief Antont enditenditendit
*"You're a wreck, boy. Forget it. It's over. End the pain and succumb to peace. All you have to do is die..."*
"Shut up!" *"Is that all you have to say to me? Your teacher? Your mentor?"*
"No longer! Go away!"
*"You'll see her again,"* came Mirador's seductive whisper.

Anton Arcane's brain totally stopped.
"What?"

*"You'll see her again. She is dead, after all. You'll see her again."* Arcane's voice was very soft. "...my God, you're right..." He began to tremble.
The mental voice was quiet, coaxing. *"It's been a long time, hasn't it, Anton? Since you've been held? Since you've been touched? It's been much too long a time, hasn't it, since someone told you that they loved you..."*
Arcane's voice was barely audible. "Yes..."
*"You miss her so much... You could touch her again..."*
Arcane stared deep into space. "Yes."
*"I'll help you, Anton. Will you listen to me?"*
"Yes..."

~~~

Graham pushed through the swamp's underbrush frantically, panic streaming through his blood. "Dr. Arcane?" he called out for the Nth time. As usual, there was no answer.
When Graham had come back to an empty wreck of a lab, he had been very concerned. And when he had asked around and heard that Arcane had been spotted stumbling toward the swamp, he became worried. Now, an hour and a half later, after a tiring and ultimately fruitless search of the swamp, Graham was a nervous wreck.
"Dr. Arcane?" he tried again, somewhat half-heartedly. His spirits fell. His employer had probably fallen down a sinkhole. He shoved past a leafy frond, and his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
"Dr. Arcane???"
Oblivious to Graham's voice, Arcane knelt at the edge of a crystalline pool, staring at the water hungrily, his eyes gleaming. "L'eau de morte, " he whispered, transfixed. He cupped his hands and filled them with water, murmuring, "See you soon, my dear."
Graham stared in horror. "Dr. Arcane, don't!!! That's where we conducted the Cyanide experiment, remember?"
Arcane jumped, the precious water spilling from his hands. "Graham! What the hell are you doing?"
Graham lurched forward, confused. "What are you doing? Are you trying to kill yourself?!"
A gun clicked and pressed against Graham's forehead. Arcane's eyes were dead. "Don't try to stop me, Graham."
Graham swallowed. "Do you want to kill me, too?"
After a moment to mull it over, the doctor shook his head. "No." He sighed, flinging the gun into the swamp. "It wasn't loaded anyway." He turned around to the cyanide pool and knelt once more by the water. "Au revoir, Graham."
Graham hunkered down by Arcane. "Dr. Arcane, you're not in your right mind. Come back to the lab with me, and we'll fix whatever happened when you hooked yourself up to Mirador's brain."
Arcane shook his head violently. "No, no, no. Graham, you have no idea what's going on -- don't inflict your idiocy on me now. I know what I have to do."
Graham took a deep breath and screwed up some courage. "No, you don't. I can't let you do this."
Arcane stood up straight abruptly, his voice suddenly strangely gruff and with different cadences. Graham became frightened. "Leave him alone," the scientist growled. "Anton needs to do this." Arcane blinked and snarled. "No! I can do this myself! I have the courage! I don't need you to hold my hand!" He collapsed to his knees once more in exhaustion, clutching his head and shivering. Arcane whimpered in pain. "Mirador, make it stop..."
*"Calm down, Anton. The pain will end soon. Are you listening to me?"*
"Yes," Arcane whispered.
*"Drink the water. You'll be together again, the two of you, and we know that she'll forgive you. You'll be able to explain. The pain will be gone. Go ahead. Do it."*
Arcane stared into the water, but the only image he saw was Tatania's. He thought he heard Graham's voice.
"Dr. Arcane, you're tired and sick and you're not thinking really straight. Come back to the lab with me and we'll take the pain out of your mind. We'll fine a cure for what happened and we'll find a way to give your mind back to you. But you've got to come back."
Arcane looked up at that, his voice small. "My mind?" He wanted his mind back, wanted Mirador to let him have it again, wanted it very badly. But it hurt so much, and the depression swirling about him was terrible. He curled up in pain. "Mirador, help me, you promised to help me!"
*"Your mind is gone now, Anton, and you can never get it back. It hurts a lot, doesn't it? We know. End the pain. Just put your hands in the water..."*
He did so.
*"Cup it in your hands."*
"My head... oh God, my head... help me..."
*"Listen to me."*
"...I'm listening..."

Graham became frantic. "Dr. Arcane, listen to me. I don't know what you received when you downloaded data from Mirador's brain. I don't know who's talking to you right now. But whoever it is, don't listen to it. Listen to me. It's Graham. Graham. Please."
no one can stop it nothing can stop it the minutes are ticking away your mind is deteriorating piece by piece by piece the clock is ticking stop time and DO IT...
Graham stared at Arcane with intensity, willing desperately to get through to him. "Please listen to me. I know you haven't flipped. You're just kind of confused. But you don't have to die."
*"Is the water in your hands?"*
"...yes..."
*"Drink."*

He heard Graham faintly in the background, as if he were shouting from a far distance away. Everything else seemed so loud. The water lapping. Mirador. His breath. His heart. He listened a little more carefully to what Graham was saying.

"Please. Dr. Arcane, please!! Don't drink the water. It will kill you. You can't die. You don't need to die."

"I'm listening, Mirador."

*"Drink."*

Blackness.

Breathe.
In.
Out.

Down Low



The space directly in front of his line of sight was a dim sort of brown, as if there was a weak light installed in the ceiling. Everywhere else was pure darkness.
The hell?!
He stepped forward into the light -- or he would have. The smooth, hard wall-like structure that was flat against his back remained there. He couldn't move.
Anton Arcane was beginning to get a very bad taste in his mouth. "Hello?" he called out, desperately straining to see anything in the impossibly dim light.
"Hello, Anton," came an all-too familiar voice. His late mentor stepped out from the darkness. He was tossing something to himself and catching it. The sight wouldn't have been so disturbing to Arcane if the something hadn't been his brain.
"It's beautiful," Mirador said, examining the brain admiringly. He looked up at Arcane. "How long have you had it?"
"Quite some time, before you stole it," Arcane retorted bitterly. "Give it back."
"No, no, no, I'm afraid not, my boy," Mirador replied, holding the brain more carefully. "You're too careless. You usually break your toys." He slid back into the darkness and put the brain on a shelf. "I might let you hold it for a little while if you're good, though."
"Thank you for your immense generosity," Arcane replied, his voice dripping with cold sarcasm. He looked around, finding that he was able to move his head slightly. "Now what's this? Some new hallucination? A dream?"
Mirador shook his head, and Arcane squirmed, recognizing immediately the gesture of supreme disappointment. "Such limited, narrow options, Anton. And so few of them." The elderly man sighed deeply, as if ashamed. "To think that once I taught you."
That hurt for some reason, but Arcane was damned if he'd let that show. "You taught your students logic and scientific explanation. How else am I supposed to make sense of this?" His tone grew mocking. "Are we in Oz?"
Mirador waved off the sarcastic question, distracted. "That's not important now. What's important is that you're here, with us."
Arcane widened his eyes, his eyebrows raising. "Well, fancy that! Here with you. Well, my life's now complete. Shall I shoot myself now?"
Mirador was not amused. "You don't remember how you came here, do you?"
"No," Arcane replied with studied nonchalance, "and quite frankly, I don't care." His words acquired a menacing edge. "Now give me back my mind."
Mirador sat down comfortably in a reclining chair that Arcane would have sworn hadn't been there a moment before. "I've been looking through your mind, you know, and it seems to me that taking something that belongs to someone else without a second thought seems to be part of the main charter in your school of ethics."
Arcane was beginning to lose his patience. Actually, he had lost his patience a while ago, but it had been growing back. "We aren't talking about my methods of drawing the human race up out of the muck, now are we, Mirador?" he replied, almost pleasantly, but with an edge. "We're talking about my personal sanity -- something that you seem to be playing with right now, for whatever reason, and I really couldn't care less about what that reason is. But the simple fact is that it's mine. And I want it back."
Mirador simply shrugged. "Sorry."
Arcane strained against the wall. "Dammit, I don't know what you're trying to do, but--" A streak of pain stabbed his head, and he cried out. "What's going on? Why is the pain back?"
Mirador's darker half seemed indifferent. "You have a great deal of anger and hate. It's going to lead to your downfall sooner or later."
Arcane jerked, making as if to move his hands upward to clutch his head, but he couldn't move them. "AAAahhH..." He took in tortured gasps of breath. "Mirador, why are you doing this?"
Mirador's voice sounded sad. "You still can't make an attempt to take any responsibility for your problems, and what you do to cause them. Haven't we... haven't I explained to you why this is happening to you twice over?"
Arcane strained to be free of the wall. His eyes bugged as sudden realization smacked him ferociously. "The knowledge!" He strained even harder, raving madly, "Where's the knowledge?! Where are your theories??! MIRADOR!" He roared. "Everything I downloaded -- that can't have been the last of it! What did you do?!"
"I took it back," Mirador explained calmly and simply.
Arcane snapped. "You can't bloody take it back!! It was in my MIND!!!!!!"
"It was in my mind, too," Mirador replied reasonably. Arcane realized he had walked right into that one, but at this point, he didn't care. Mirador continued. "I didn't think I could trust you with that kind of information any more. You've changed... you've corrupted yourself."
Arcane started to go a tad postal. "You can't make that choice!!! You're a DEAD BRAIN!! You're gone! Dead! Finished! Kaput! Six feet under! C'est Termine !!!!"
Mirador seemed damnably chipper for the dark incarnate of a dead man. "So?"
"So it's completely ludicrous!" Arcane insisted. "It makes no sense!"
Mirador got up out of his chair and traversed the small circle where the weak light shone. "You're down here, Anton. Not up there. Things don't make a lot of sense down here." He smiled a demented smile. "We stopped making sense a long time ago. You should try it -- it's a liberating feeling. Well, it was for me, anyway. You'll stop making sense eventually."
"Then why are you still here?" Arcane cried. "If the knowledge I transferred has evaporated, than why haven't you disappeared as well? Why is this wretched pain still here?"
"Nothing's disappeared, Anton. No smoke, no mirrors. It's all there, all of us are there. But we're keeping the knowledge." At Arcane's stare of incredulity, Mirador added, "That eats at you, doesn't it? When you can't understand, can't have all the answers, you squirm. I remember that look on your face well." His eyes began to take on a gentler, far away look, as he recalled. "You asked so many questions... you had the most inquisitive mind I had ever seen. I noticed that right away." The old man's expression hardened. "Now look at you. Greedy. Power-hungry. Cold." He began to chuckle suddenly.
Arcane moaned, and looked up irritably. "What do you find so amusing?"
Mirador chuckled some more. "Oh, I was just thinking about how funny it was to watch you agonize on whether or not to kill yourself." Arcane visibly winced at that, as Mirador went on to say, "It was such a fallacy, you know; because you killed yourself long ago without realizing it. Your soul's been dead for years." He shook his head, still chuckling. "You've always been a survivor, Anton, even when you had nothing left to feed off of but power, hatred, and the pain of others. And you wonder why your head hurts."
"I hate you," Arcane muttered.
"You keep proving my point."
"I hate you!" he yelled again. "Get out of here!" He shook, straining, looking around wildly. "Graham? Graham, where are you?"
"He isn't down here." Mirador noticed that Arcane had started smiling. "What is it, Anton?"
It was a weak, sick smile. "Do you like it here inside my skull, Mirador?" Arcane asked quietly.
"It's not bad. Not wonderful, but not bad. I enjoy being awake again."
Arcane nodded slightly. "Do you keep an eye on your loved ones through my eyes, Mirador?"
"Why do you ask?"
His head was starting to ache again, but Arcane ignored it. He smiled. "I'm going to kill Dana."
It was now Mirador's turn to look confused. "You can't do that."
"Oh, yes I can. I'm going to kill your granddaughter, and you won't be able to do a dear thing about it, because you're stuck in here inside of me." His smile became all teeth. "It's absolutely splendid, isn't it, Mirador?"
"You're down here, too, boy," Mirador countered. "It's not possible."
"I'm a genius, remember? I can do things like that. I can always find a way. You know how single-minded I can get about these things." Arcane's gaze became dreamy. "Oh, it's going to be so lovely. She's going to suffer for a long, long time as your proxy. And all you'll be able to do is watch." He became thoughtful. "It's a pity, really, when you think about it. She's such a lovely little thing -- or she was the last time I met her. But then, you'd know more about that than..." His voice trailed off as he noticed Mirador glancing at his watch as if he were counting down the seconds.
"There," Mirador announced, as his countdown ended. The old man shook his head in a mocking parody of sadness and empathy. "You keep setting yourself up, Anton. How much raw evil do you expect one mind can hold without vomiting? And yet you still hatch another scheme."
Arcane felt as if needles were being pushed into his eyeballs. He struggled madly, but whatever held him immobile was holding him still. He screamed pitifully, but the sound was ripped away from his vocals. Fire consumed his entire face. He felt a sob break in his throat, and another, and another.
Suddenly, something blessedly cool touched his face. He opened his tightly shut eyes. His voice was a bare whisper. "Tatania?"
"Shhh," she whispered, the vision of loveliness, as she held his face gently in her hands.
Arcane leaned as much as he could into her touch. "You've changed your mind. You've come back to me."
She stroked his hair gently. "I never left."
The pain eased slowly. Unbridled joy ran wild throughout Arcane's entire system. He wept. "My God, you've come back. Don't leave me alone again. Never leave me."
Tatania held his still form and kissed his forehead. "I wouldn't dream of it, my darling. Shh. Try to rest." She kissed him again, this time on the mouth, and he reciprocated with passion, struggling to get close to her, to get free. Strange... her lips were extremely dry, not quite like he remembered--
He looked up into her face. It had a million little crack lines, like fractured china. She was still smiling. Her head cracked into a thousand pieces, her body dissolving into grey dust, less than an inch away from him, in front of his eyes.
A grinning skull and a pile of bleached bones and dust looked back up at him from the floor.
Arcane stared into space, his eyes wide, his pupils small. He was completely and utterly still... except for his hands, which were trembling. Uncontrollably.

~~~

Hours later, Arcane still stared, the trembling having spread all over his body.
He blinked.
"TATANIA!!!!!!!" He screamed her name over and over. "Tatania, where are you???!!!"
His own voice echoed back to him in the darkness.

~~~

Every scrap of Anton Arcane's innocence was dead.

"You can't believe how insanely glad I am to have you back, my darling," he said to the pile of bones on the floor. He looked a little disappointed. "I wish you'd talk back to me, though. You're so intelligent, Tatania, it doesn't become you to sit so silently. You always debated with me." He sighed. "It was so beautiful, you and me. And you always looked so lovely... especially when you wore that dress. The red one." He looked down at the pile of bones. "Now look at you. Well, I still think you're beautiful, my dear. Really I do."
The bones did not reply.
Arcane sighed dramatically. "Well, here we are, trapped in this horrid place. It's a shame, really. I have so much more to contribute to the world... my brilliance has yet to recieve a successor that can match me. How will the human race -- the planet -- fare without Anton Arcane?" He clenched his teeth determinedly. "I'll get out of here, oh yes I will. Both of us will, right, my darling?" He looked down at the bones, waiting for an answer expectantly.
The bones did not reply.
Arcane let out a sound of exasperation. "Why are you sulking so much? Come on, tell me what it is. Just talk to me a little."
A bone twitched.
Arcane started in surprise.
The bones began to move -- actually move -- as if they were some sort of living thing. Joints began to re-connect in a bizarre, slithering dance, joining together the bones in their correct placement.
Arcane blinked. "Dear?" he asked quietly.
The bleached skeleton rose erect, moving jerkily, like some undead corpse from a cheesy B-movie horror flick. Except it was real, and it was Tatania, and she shouldn't have been doing that... it was unnatural, a sick mockery of the life he had once wanted to give her.
Arcane stared, moving to bite his knuckle, but his hands were still pinned helplessly. The skeleton began to walk, tottering about the dim brown space like a broken puppet.
Arcane screamed as if his heart were being knifed. "MIRADOR, STOP!!!" The skeleton kept walking, if one could call it that. Arcane struggled wildly, jerking this way and that desperately. "Mirador!! Stop defiling her!!!"
The skeleton continued to move, jerked around like the toy of some insane god. Arcane cried out as if someone was hurting him. He hung his head. "Stop desecrating her, please..." Suddenly, the skeleton was in front of him, inches away from his face. He looked up into the black sockets of the thing before him.
"Hello, Anton," it rasped, in a sick, hideous parody of his beloved's voice. It was the clicking mandibles of hairy spiders. It was a wet razor blade sliding across blood-slick wide eyes. It was the screeching of chalk down an endless blackboard. "I love you."
Arcane screamed. He closed his eyes tightly, his heart thumping perilously. "TATANIA! Help me! Where are you?"
"I'm right here," the skull purred in a hoarse, dead rasp.
"You're not my wife!!!" Arcane howled, flattening himself against the wall.
"Of course she is," Mirador's voice assured, echoing through the darkness. "This is what you wanted, isn't it? This is what you were always trying to do?" "NO!" Arcane's eyes were wide in abject terror and revulsion. His stomach churned and heaved, tying itself up in tight, hard knots. He lurched away from the wall, finally free, shoving the skeleton away ferociously. "Get away from me!!" He shoved it again with violent rage. "Get away, you putrid thing, you're not my wife!!!"
The skeleton opened its mouth as if taking its dying breath, and then crumbled, shattering into bone shards and fragments on the dusty floor.
"You killed her again," Mirador said quietly.
Arcane knelt amidst the organic shrapnel and bone debris biting his knuckle, a billion thoughts spinning in his dizzy mind, as he felt his body get flung back like a rag doll. His back slammed hard against the wall, his body once again held taut and still.
All the lights went out.



Alone in the darkness, Arcane closed his eyes and cried in bitter sorrow.

~~~

Arcane opened his eyes in waking, and then proceeded to vomit all over the floor.
Mirador strolled in to greet him. "Poor Anton," he remarked with false sympathy. "You cried yourself to sleep last night."
Arcane, finished retching, looked up weakly. "I hate you," he murmured. "I'm going to finish you. It's over."
Mirador was smiling happily. "Oh, but it's never over! That's the fun!"
"That's where you're sadly mistaken, old man. You've lost your grip on the threads of reality." Arcane looked up at the ceiling, playing the suffering saint. "I, on the other hand, am still burdened with the knowledge that the earth is still round, and hurled objects don't fall up. And I know that all things come to an end, including you, Mirador."
Mirador seemed unmoved by the biting remarks. He sauntered back into the darkness. "Mmm. That's nice." His voice still echoed from where the light stopped. "I haven't seen you with Tatania in a while. How's your wife doing?"
Arcane seethed, straining like a rabid animal against whatever invisible force held him. "You desecrate her by even uttering her name, you filthy bastard."
"Your voice sounds more hoarse than usual," Mirador observed, walking back into the light with an ornately carved glass chalice.
The doctor swallowed convulsively. "Don't play games with me. I'm dehydrated. I haven't had any form of sustenance since I arrived in this piece of bad fiction."
Mirador's eyes seemed to glint, like fire sparking from struck flint. "Well, in that case..." He held the cup of water to Arcane's lips, letting him drink, adding with earnest casualness, "It's up to you on whether or not you swallow. The water has Cyanide in it--"
Arcane spit it out in haste.
"--or not."
Arcane stared at his mentor. His eyes were starved. "Blast, Mirador, tell me if the water is genuine or not!!"
"There's only one way to find out."
Arcane closed his eyes and sighed shakily, and for a minute, sounded like he was on the verge of frustrated tears. "Real water," he grit out angrily. But even then, he was doubting himself. It would be so much easier to take a nice, long drink. His troubles, his failures, his frustration and his searing, deeper-than-nerves lonely pain would melt away into a wash of blackness. He would slip off of life's page quietly. He could sleep forever, and never have to deal with any of this horror again.


"here, you said you would/ love to try some
here, you said you would love to die some"
"Swallowed", Bush

no

Arcane closed eyes that blackened with fury, his voice levelled and aimed like a bullet at his mentor, impossibly soft. "Get away from me, you sick waste of life."
One of his hands came free, and Mirador placed the cup in it. "It's water, Anton. Let me know when you're thirsty enough for the real thing." He shuffled back into the darkness.
Arcane drank deeply, letting the water soothe his throat that was dry and sore from the screaming, pausing only when the water started to taste strange in his mouth. He stared at the cup. The water congealed and blackened inside the glass. Arcane dropped it in disgust, watching it crash and splatter on the floor. The puddle it left was clear.
Arcane snarled. I'm going to kill you, you senile old bat. He would rip the old man's weakening heart out and feed it to him by spoonfuls, hand the man his spine and let him use it as a serving fork. He would -- The doctor jerked suddenly, finding that he could step away from the wall. Ha ha ha. Yesss. Finally, liberty. He fairly leaped away from the wall, feeling extremely lively.
Premeditated murder for vengeful purposes always gave his spirit a good high.
He scampered off into the dark, following a trail of impossibly weak light spilled from another one of those hidden, dim ceiling lamps, or whatever they were. Ah. He reached the room that Mirador had scuttled off to. The centerpiece of the cave-like room was a good-sized plateau-shaped rock, where Mirador lay -- no -- Arcane looked closer, squinting. Mirador was floating a few inches off the rocky platform, apparently asleep. Arcane crept up to the platform, leaning over Sleeping Beauty with a demonic grin on his face. "Awake, fair princess," he whispered.

Mirador bolted upright, his floating ceasing, as he landed on the rock hard. Arcane leaned over him, half predatory, half friendly-like. "Getting our beauty sleep, Mirador? It's a pity I had to wake you up, but this thought has just been spinning around my brain all night..."
"Out with it, boy," Mirador grunted crossly.
Arcane grinned. "Well, I was just pondering, 'Mirador's done so many wonderful things for me. He's made my entire life much more bearable than it ever was to be.' So I thought it only fair that I give you a present or two, just some small tokens of affection just to show you that I care; I mean, after all you've done for me..."
Mirador still seemed sluggish and tired. He settled back down. "This is pathetic."
Arcane dealt him a right cross so hard that the old man went clear of the platform, falling to the rocky floor with a nasty sound.
The doctor jumped and landed beside him. "That's for desecrating my wife," he said, his own voice becoming more of a growl than anything else. He backhanded the old man viciously, once, twice. "That's for desecrating ME!" Arcane grabbed the man by his shirt front and threw him against the opposite wall with enough force to fracture his skull. "I have to hand it to you, Mirador, your techniques of torture were quite exquisite!" Holding him up against the wall, the younger man pressed in close, continuing in fury, "Giving me your knowledge, and than snatching it all away again when it was, and had become, rightfully MINE!!"
Mirador stared into Arcane's eyes, feeling actual fear start to creep into the cold parts of his bones. It was like staring into the eyes of a mad beast. He cried out as Arcane drove his fist into his gut, his side, hard, again and again. He felt the young man's breath warm in his ear. "That was for all the depression."
Mirador felt himself get hurled roughly to the floor, and felt something make a loud, sickening CRACK.
Arcane was a mad thing of pure rage. "And that was for trying to make me shove my head into a stream of bloody CYANIDE!!!" He searched around the cave madly for any sort of sharp, hurtful instrument. His eyes fixed upon a shelf on the far wall, where another chalice lay. Arcane grabbed his, smashing it against the wall with ferocity, until all he gripped with bleeding fingers was a nasty-looking glass shard. He rushed toward Mirador and knelt by him, grinning.
Mirador stiffened as he saw what was in his student's hand, the look on his face. The grin was the grin of a jackal when it spotted a fresh corpse to feed off of. The shard of glass was poised dangerously over one of his eyes, than moved a little to the other, than floated in the space between, right above the bridge of his nose. The old man started to feel sick.
Arcane's words were slow and dark, with carefully controlled hatred. "And this is for every bit of that agonizing, horrible pain that would swallow up my mind, and leave me begging for mercy, while you told me that it was my own fault, and that you couldn't help me."
Mirador tried to keep the quavering out of his voice. "Who taught you, Anton? Who helped you when the older bullies beat you up time and again after school? Who was there when your father never was?"
Arcane shook his head. "I seem to recall that the man who did those things died -- you drove him to murder himself, remember? The Mirador I knew is dead. And soon, you will be." That grin, that sick, awful grin spread slowly across his face. "Which eye, Mirador? I'll let you choose."
That second of pause was all the old man needed.
Untouched by anyone, Arcane was flung backwards, hurtling toward the floor by the opposite wall, the glass shard slipping from his blood-slick fingers; he lay face up, his arms pinned behind his back. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.
Mirador took a sharp breath, and limped over toward his student. "Don't start a game you're not old enough to play, or man enough to finish."
Arcane blacked out.

~~~

"Good morning."

Arcane opened his eyes and then shut them again, sighing in short little breaths, wishing that this could all be a bad dream, that he could wake up and blow Mirador's putrid little brain to Kingdom Come. Unfortunately, the doctor wasn't that lucky. He would never be that lucky again.
Arcane couldn't quite remember the last time he had been truly, devastatingly afraid. That kind of fear gripped him rarely. Now was one of those times. Mirador's dead eyes held true menace, and he was completely helpless to stop what his crazed mentor might do to him. It didn't stop him from trying, of course. He forced a smile reflexively. "You seem to be in an unusually good mood. Did you have a nice breakfast?"
Mirador didn't answer, and Arcane immediately took that as a bad sign. Mirador was only silent when he was disappointed. And disappointment made him angry. And being paralyzed and stuck to a wall was not a very good position to be in when one was sharing space with an angry person. Not to mention that Mirador was probably still sore about Arcane manhandling him the night before.
The old man continued to dodder around in the darkness, seeming to be looking for something. Arcane sighed, his eyes narrowing in loathing. Contemptible old bat. He was going to get him. He could try again, and again, and again. As soon as he could find a working way, he was going to get the demented old bastard. And it wasn't going to be pretty. Oh, definitely not pretty. In fact, it was going to be rather ugly. Even uglier than the last time. Much uglier. He had been far too merciful. Arcane didn't care that Mirador happened to be dead; within his mind, that was only a minor technicality, and easily dealt with. Yes, very ugly. Arcane had a couple new things in mind. Right now, though, he had to handle the task at hand, and that was staying alive(since he had decided, at least for the moment, that he wanted to live now.).
"Ah!" Mirador cried as he turned to face his former pupil, his entire worn face lightening up. He grinned from ear to ear. "Did you sleep well?"
"Oh, marvellously," Arcane replied with more than enough sarcasm. "This wall does wonders for my back, you know. Have you ever tried sleeping on iron spikes? I heard it's even better."
"Good," Mirador replied in a chipper tone, the mordacity either lost on him, or ignored. He sat back in his chair and folded his hands in his lap with the air of a parent looking down at a disobedient child. "Now, you've gotten dirty over the years, Anton. It's time for you to take your bath."
"Your sparkling wit has completely surpassed my limited mind, Mirador," Arcane replied, casual sarcasm still interwoven throughout all his words.
"I shouldn't have to explain it to you any clearer than that. Now brace yourself. The water might be a tad cold."
Arcane looked up.
The translucent liquid poured upon the doctor from above in a small trickle.
"Damn pipe must be clogged," Mirador muttered.
Arcane closed his eyes as the water dripped down his face. "Mirador, if this is your twisted idea of a joke, let the record show that I'm not laughing." He paused. "And neither are you, for that matter." Suddenly something occurred to him. He sniffed the air around him, scenting something funny.
It was then that he realized that it wasn't water that was pouring down on him in a more steady stream.
It was gasoline.
Panic started to shake the doctor. He tried to keep calm. "Mirador, if this is about yesterday... I didn't really mean that, you know."
Mirador raised his eyebrows, looking up from a magazine he had been flipping through. "You didn't mean to viciously attack me and try to murder me? It was all a misunderstanding?"
"Precisely." Arcane gave his most charming smile. "It was all in fun, really. You know, keep each other on our toes, keep the old reflexes sharp... Why, Graham and I do that sort of thing all the time. I never meant any harm upon you. Quite the contrary! Of course, I had to make the whole encounter seem authentic. But it was really nothing but a scare. I--"
"Not this time, Anton."
The gasoline began to gush down even harder, with no intention of stopping. Arcane sputtered, shaking his hair out of his eyes furiously. "May I ask why you want to douse me with motor oil?" He added, "Unless it just makes you feel saucy."
Mirador didn't answer, absorbed with playing with the little Zippo he held in his hands.
Arcane's eyes widened. "My God..." The gasoline continued to drench him, and Arcane struggled frantically, shielding himself from the pouring oil with his head under his arms, his body somehow still attached to the wall. It was a rather pathetic sight. Mirador stood up from his chair, still fiddling in glee with the little flame, stoking it and letting it go out, over and over and over in fascination.
The gasoline trickled to a stop.
*drip drip drip*
Arcane looked up, blinking to get the dripping oil away from his eyes. A nervous chuckle escaped him. "Mirador, why don't you put down that darling lighter, and we can talk like civilized people, all right? We can discuss anything you like. A debate! Like the old days, eh?"
Mirador wandered forward absently, still engrossed with the Zippo. Arcane started to perspire. "Mirador, you don't really want to do this, do you? I still have so much to learn from you." He poured on the charm. "You wouldn't really want to harm me, would you? I'm your student, your protege."
Mirador looked up. "Drowned rats shouldn't flatter themselves." He stepped closer, playing with the lighter again, but his eyes took on a bit more menace.
Arcane swallowed hard. "Well, out with it, then! What is it you want to hear? That I'm scared of you? Well frankly, Mirador, anyone in my position would be, and if they weren't, then they'd be either a bloody fool, or totally inflammable. So what is it? What do you want?"
"You're different than Carl," Mirador said thoughtfully. "Carl was weak. I was always the strong one. And you're a survivor, Anton, I've told you that. But you're too corrupted--"
"Said the self-proclaimed 'dark half'."
"-- too many motives, not enough darkness for the sake of darkness." He smiled then, and it scared the hell out of Arcane. "The fact that fire cleanses is not only a religious principle, but a scientific one. You know that."
Logic was definitely not going to work in this situation. "I'm human Mirador -- a rather highly attractive brilliant one, if I must say so myself, but I'm still human -- and so are you. We make mistakes, Mirador. That's not a crime, nor a true stain on one's character, is it? I don't think I warrant death for the reasons you've given me."
Mirador was still smiling. "The nice thing about being mad is that you don't need to justify anything with reasons. You've tasted that. But now it's time for me to aid my poor, suffering student." He held the flame close to his former student, watching him try to back away impossibly, flattening himself against the wall in a panic, his eyes wide in abject terror.
Mirador tsk tsked. "Anton... dear me. And I thought you wanted to die?"
Arane felt his heart thumping fast and hard, pounding into his chest with enough force to crack his ribs. "Maybe so, before... but my way, when I so desired." The flame flickered in the lighter, and Mirador was moving closer. Arcane knew it would do no good to try and blow the fire out -- it was a lighter, after all, and Mirador could always stoke it again. The doctor smiled. "Come now, Mirador. You don't want to toast me. Just put down the lighter."
Mirador's voice was low. "Retribution scares you, doesn't it? Don't worry. I'm giving you what you wanted. I've been giving you what you wanted since you came down here."
Arcane sighed, careful not to let the escaping air blow out the flame. "Do you want me to beg you for my life? Would you like to see me grovel on my belly in abject terror like some sort of dog? I won't give you that satisfaction, I promise you."
Mirador shrugged. "Debase yourself if you want. It doesn't matter to me either way."
The flame was the only thing separating their faces. Firelight illuminated parts of their features, hiding others in flickering shadows.
Arcane steeled himself; his voice was barely audible, as he held Mirador's gaze calmly with the force of a cobra. His eyes gleamed, daring the old man. "Do it."
The hand holding the lighter trembled infinitesimally.
"All right."
The doctor screamed, crumpling off the wall and onto the floor, clawing at his face. White fire encased him.
Mirador eased back into his chair. "I've set your challenges, Anton. Meeting yours are as easy as child's play. I don't bluff. You should know that by now."
The doctor howled.

~~~

Arcane wasn't hurt, wasn't injured or burned. His body was in the tightest ball that he could curl himself into, and he was shaking non-stop. But he wasn't scarred. Wasn't hurt. No raw wounds. No blood. No marks.
Mirador was scribbling on his chalkboard. Without pausing his writing, he looked over his shoulder at his former student. "Feeling any better?"
The voice was nothing but a soft whisper. "Agony."
Mirador blinked, and went back to concentrating on his physics equations.
Arcane's face was hidden in his hands, as his body shuddered. "Agony... Mirador... stop burning me... Mirador, help me... stop burning me..."
Mirador shook his head. "Are you still upset about that?"
Arcane started to cry.
His teacher sighed heavily in disgust. "I'm disappointed in you, Anton. I really am. It was time to start acting like a man a long time ago."
Arcane had never daydreamed in class before, but he wasn't paying attention now. His body shook with sobs. "Mirador, I'm thirsty."
Mirador turned around. "What was that?"
Arcane continued to rock back and forth, tears streaming down his face. He knew what agony was. He knew. Pain wasn't an adequate word, anguish wasn't even the right semantic. He knew what pure, unadulterated agony meant. "I'm ready to drink now. I'm ready. Please."
Mirador shrugged. "You refused my help before. Don't ask for it now."
Arcane sobbed, his hands clenching and unclenching. "Please. I'll listen to you. Let me die. Please let me die."
Mirador shook his head. "I'm sorry, Anton. You're going to have to deal with this on your own. No easy outs this time."
Arcane screamed.
Mirador grunted in exasperation. "Stop making so much noise! I can't hear myself think."
"...stop burning me... stop, don't burn me anymore, turn off the lighter, stop burning me..." He screamed over and over, collapsing on his side, managing to draw a deep breath and speak. "All this time, you were trying to coax me to do myself in! Why won't you let me die now?"
Mirador's eyes lit up as he figured out the problem on the chalkboard that he had given himself. "Ah!" He wrote quickly, adding, "I haven't had this much fun in a long time, especially with Carl killing himself. Keeping you alive is much more fun. We can spend time together forever. Won't that be nice?"
Arcane crawled blindly over to the nearest wall, smashing his head into it, trying desperately to beat himself into unconsciousness.
"No, no, no, we won't have that," Mirador chastised gently. Arcane moaned, feeling his fingertips slide along the ground as he felt himself get dragged away from his only chance at surcease. He ran a trembling hand through his hair and rubbed his temples furiously, trying to massage away the hideous knots of pain. Tears streamed out his eyes.
He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Anton, don't cry. It doesn't become you. You're not a little boy anymore." Mirador paused, and added, "Don't think that I don't know it hurts. What do you see?"
Arcane sobbed softly. "Fire. All I see is fire." He whimpered and moaned, the pain far too horrible for any one creature to endure.
Mirador nodded in satisfaction. "All right. I'll give you an 'A' for this one." He pulled a long needle filled with dark fluid out of his pocket, and plunged it deep into the suffering man's neck.
The doctor's eyes rolled back into his head. His body shuddered, and he collapsed, falling still, final, blissful peace hugging him. He lay motionless, his eyes staring and blind, black fire sliding across his irises.
Deep within the crackling flames of Anton Arcane's mind, Tatania danced.

 

Far Away, Too Slow

Arcane blinked.
Graham's face brightened in pure joy. "You're awake!"
Arcane looked around woozily. "Graham...? Where am I?"
"You're at home, I thought I had killed you, I was so worried, but you're alive--" Graham's words tripped over each other in a sudden cathartic rush of relief.
Arcane sighed, sinking deep into his pillow. "Oh, Graham, I had the most bizarre dream--" He paused for a second. "What do you mean, 'you thought you had killed me'?"
Graham's face regained some of its tension, and he looked rather nervous. "Well, um, Dr. Arcane, you were about to kill yourself, and I kind of knocked you over the head with a stick, so that you wouldn't, but then you didn't wake up, and..."
"Graham, Graham, Graham." Arcane touched the man's face fondly. "I'm cutting your salary in half."
This seemed to reassure Graham, rather than worry him. His face relaxed. "I'm just glad you're alive."
Arcane grinned. "So am I." He sat up in bed all the way, making ready to get up, still in the clothes he had been wearing before. "Now, we have business to take care of." He breathed in deeply, drinking in the life he had almost lost.
"Sir, do you think that's really wise? I mean, you had so much mental trauma from the incident with the download, not to mention the bump you took to the head..."
Arcane smiled, jubilant. "Nonsense, Graham!" He thumped his chest soundly. "I've never felt better. My mind hasn't seemed this clear in ages. Come on, let's go down to the laboratory. We haven't time to waste."
Graham was still reluctant. "Um... all right, if you say so, Dr. Arcane. If you feel up to it."
"Of course I do!"
"All right." He waited for Arcane to move, so that he could follow him. However, Arcane was just standing there looking at him in the strangest way. Graham was puzzled. "Sir?"
Arcane's voice was extremely patronizing. "I'm going to need my hand back, Graham."
His assistant smiled sheepishly, growing red. "Uh, heh heh, sorry..." He followed his boss out the door.

~~~

Dr. Arcane grinned devilishly at the brain in the garbage can. "Well, it was glorious while it lasted, eh, Mirador?" He continued pouring oil into the can. "Unfortunate that you had to play me for a fool." He lit a match cheerfully. "Well, au revoir !" Flames erupted from the trash can as Graham looked on worriedly.
"Dr. Arcane, sir... are you feeling okay?"
Arcane grinned happily. "I'm feeling marvellous!" His grin grew more malicious. "Now, Graham... I'm going to have a little chat with Dana Mirador..."

~~~

Arcane looked up from the solution he was pouring to see Graham drag a struggling Dana Mirador in the door, her hands bound behind her back and gagged with a rectangle of black tape across her mouth. Once he had brought her into the lab proper, Graham stepped away.
Arcane got up, picking a hand gun up off the counter, stalking close to the captive young woman. He admired the gun fondly, remarking, "Remarkable, isn't it, how receptive a person will become when the stark possibility of their death is staring at them from the barrel of a loaded weapon." He looked up into her wide, terrified eyes. "Hello, Dana. Do you remember me? I came calling once or twice when you were, oh..." He measured a small space with his hands. "--about so high." He pointed the gun at her. "But unfortunately for you, this is the last time you'll ever get a glimpse of me. Or anyone else, for that matter."
Dana gave a muffled sound of fear.
Arcane's attention stayed on the black handgun. He began to polish it. "Were your parents only children?"
A frightened, confused nod.
"Any brothers or sisters?"
She shook her head.
He nodded, flipping the gun back toward her. "Good. Then it seems you're the last of the Miradors. Your little clan is a dying breed, soon to lose its only chance of any more progeny. It's a mortal shame, really." He pressed the gun's barrel to her forehead. A sobbing noise broke from behind the tape.
Dana flinched as Arcane touched her cheek gently. "Oh, Dana, don't cry. It's not your fault. If it's any consolation to you, my dear, the blame lies solely on your grandfather. Now, before your pretty face becomes just another mess upon my floor, do you have any last words?" He glanced at the black tape. "Oh. I guess not, then." He placed his finger on the trigger. "Goodbye, Dana."
He winced suddenly, his gun hand trembling. Graham noticed. "Sir? Are you all right?"
"Peachy, Graham," Arcane grit out, focusing on the task at hand. "Shut up."
He gasped, dropping the gun. Dana backed away, as Graham rushed toward his employer. "I'm going to call the hospital."
Arcane knelt on the floor and wrenched his head away from his hands. "You'll do no such thing. Get the brat out of here and take her to the sub-level. I'll deal with her later."
Graham nodded, not wanting to disobey, and led Dana Mirador away.
The doctor struggled to his feet. "Just a simple migraine," he concluded under his breath. "I haven't had a thing to eat all day. That's the trouble." He clicked on his intercom unit. "Graham. When you've finished sedating Miss Mirador, be a darling and pick up some Chinese, will you?"
Graham's voice crackled over the intercom. "Is there anything in particular that you want?"
"No. And get anything you want for yourself. I'll be in the laboratory."
"Yes, sir."
When Graham came back with the take-out, Arcane was in a decidedly better mood. He took the cartons from Graham and placed them upon the empty cryo-tube, opening up one of them and inhaling the aroma deeply. "Lo mein. Goody." He pulled up a chair and helped himself to some noodles. Arcane didn't use chopsticks. Dammit, if he could use forks, then they were good enough for everybody!
Graham picked at his mugu gaipan. He wasn't overly crazy about Chinese food, but wanted to keep an eye on Dr. Arcane. No matter how many times the doctor professed how fine he felt, there was still clearly something wrong, and Graham was worried about him. He continued to move the pieces of broccoli around with his fork. The silence was becoming oppressive. Graham decided to throw out a topic for conversation. "So, what was it like to receive knowledge you've never had before?"
Arcane didn't reply. He had the strangest look on his face. Graham watched him swallow with difficulty before speaking.
"This tastes... rather odd. Where did you buy this from?"
Graham was puzzled. "The same place as always."
Arcane gave him an "are you sure?" type look, and took another bite. Strange... when he was eating it, it almost seemed like the noodles were--
Arcane peered into the carton and felt sick.
This wasn't lo mein. Lo mein didn't squirm.
Arcane felt like he was in a bad out-take from The Lost Boys. He stood up, shoving his chair back violently. "My God, Graham! Are you trying to kill me?!" Graham peeked into the noodle carton. "I thought you liked lo mein."
What was wrong with him? The damn noodles were squirming around like they were having a blasted orgy. "You reach new heights of stupidity by the minute."
Graham was a little hurt. "Fine, I won't get it anymore."
Arcane was still peering into the carton. The food looked normal again. What the devil?! He shook his head and sighed. "I'm going to go lie down." He stalked out of the laboratory, confused and disgruntled.
When he entered his room, he flicked on the lights and sprawled across his bed, picking up a Science News to peruse through, searching for articles by mental pygmies that he could scoff at. However, he found that he couldn't concentrate. His head started to pound dully. Another damn migraine. He tossed the magazine to the floor and let himself collapse onto the pillows. The softness of his bed cushioned him and put his mind more at ease. He closed his eyes and sighed. The darkness behind his eyes was so peaceful, it made him want to keep them closed and just go to sleep--
*click* What was that? He looked up.
When he opened his eyes, the darkness from behind them didn't go away.
He sat up, looked around, a futile thing to do, really, because he couldn't see a damned thing. More confusion. "What the hell is going on?!"
The light came back. He allowed himself a noise of relief, and settled back down into the comfort of his pillows, but he didn't close his eyes this time.
The light fled.
He knew that no one had messed with the light switch because for some strange reason, he knew that the darkness was wrong. This wasn't the cool darkness that filled his room at night, like a womb. No, this was different. It crowded the corners of his eyes, squeezing him, threatening to choke him, thick enough to cut through.
Arcane was getting scared. He fumbled for his intercom unit, but he remembered that he had left it in the lab. But it was a stupid idea, anyway. It wasn't a power outage. Deep in the bowels of his mind, he knew that.
The lights came back on.
Arcane lay flat on his bed, breathing hard, and came to the only conclusion he could think of. He said it quietly, fearfully, as if speaking it would confirm his most horrible suspicions, and make them true.
"Mirador?" he whispered.
Sleep mugged him.


Arcane opened his eyes with a start. He closed them again, letting out a huge sigh of relief. Everything looked normal. He was in his bed, in his home. There was no madness, no darkness. Sunlight peeked in behind the window shades. The red digits on the clock read 9 AM.
He opened his eyes and turned to his wife. "Oh, you wouldn't believe the dream I had."
She smiled, tracing patterns on the back of his hand. "Was it erotic?"
"Lord, no. It was horrible. A complete nightmare."
She used one hand to hold his, and the other to stroke his hair. "What was so horrible? Tell me."
He chewed on an irritating hangnail. "I'm having trouble remembering most of it. It was very strange... my old teacher... remember Mirador? He was in it, but he was behaving very strangely, and there was all this fire..." He slid his arm around her waist and drew her closer, burying his face in her hair. "And you were lost to me."
She frowned at that. "How?"
"I don't know, but I remember, in the dream, it drove me crazy. You were gone, and I couldn't reach you. You were forever beyond my grasp, and I started doing all these bizarre things, I can't remember what, but there was this big green monster chasing me, but it was supposed to be Alec..."
She kissed him. "You've been working too late this week."
Arcane shifted around so that his head was resting against her stomach, while she turned slightly. "Don't leave me," he murmured.
"Why would I leave you?" Tatania massaged his temples. "Anton, sometimes I think you're the silliest man I know."
"Mmm. That feels good."
"Maybe I should have been a masseuse," Tatania remarked, amused.
"No no no. I couldn't stand to see your beautiful mind go to waste." He reached up and caressed her face. "Besides, then I wouldn't have you all to myself, now would I?"
"And here I was, thinking it was me that had you all to myself." She paused for a moment, as if weighing a decision. She took a deep breath. "Anton, I have something important to tell you."
Arcane closed his eyes peacefully, on the verge of purring. "Pray, what?"
"I'm dead."
Arcane's eyes flew open. "Well, that was certainly morbid, Tatania. Wherever did that delightful non sequiter come from?" He waited for a reply, and got nothing. He sat straight up in bed. "Tatania?" He turned around. "Love, what are you--"
He choked on the stench of decay.
She had obviously been dead for quite some time, and when he looked closely, even though he didn't want to look he didn't want to look he didn't want to look... but when he did look closely, peering clinically past the rot and maggots and decomposure of his soul mate, he saw abrasions, bruises, sores, old blood, as if she had been hit by falling rock and debris...but he didn't want to look he didn't want to scent he didn't want to see he didn't want to see anything anymore he wanted to gouge out his own eyes as he screamed and screamed and screamed over and over again and again as if his very soul had been ripped out of his body. The tear in his pulsing heart left a great void, filled only by the slow-but-not-slow-enough clotting of the blood as it filled his chest cavity and poured black out his mouth, choking him along with his anguished, hot tears. The oil drowning the floor set itself on fire.
Arcane woke up. The reek of burning flesh was still in his nostrils; whether it was Tatania's or his own, he wasn't sure. He staggered off to the bathroom and purged himself once, twice, five times, until his eyes were red and his throat was burning with the taste of bile. He made his way to the sink shakily, splashing some cold water on his face. Arcane glanced up at the mirror. His voice was shaky and frightened. "Mirador, stop it. I don't want to be crazy again. Please, don't make me crazy again. My mind is my own again. Let me keep it."
But there was no mocking, matter-of-fact reply in his mind, no unfamiliar voices, no odd reflection in the mirror. Just one Anton Arcane, alone and scared out of his wits.

~~~

Graham watched Arcane stumble on his way toward the microscope on the counter, but he didn't say anything of it. Ever since the incident with Dana Mirador -- who they had long since let go, after Arcane had grown tired of her hanging around the basement -- Dr. Arcane had been in a pissy mood, firing people right and left. Graham really didn't want to get on the man's bad side at this point.
"Graham, hand me that slide, will you?"
Graham obliged. "Have the bacteria started to mutate yet?"
"No, but give it time. My darlings will grow, Graham, you'll see." He straightened up, and moved over to the Bunsen burner, with Graham close behind.
"Sir, do you think that the ambassador will--" He stopped in mid-sentence as Arcane collapsed.
Graham rushed to his side, trying desperately to wake him up. He shook the doctor gently by the shoulders, tilting the man's head back slightly. "Dr. Arcane, wake up... come on, please, wake up..."
Arcane opened his eyes weakly. "...what just happened...?"
Worry was creasing heavily across Graham's forehead. "You fainted. I don't know why. Are you in any pain?"
Arcane shook his head, lying. He forced a grin. It was a pretty pathetic attempt. "Well, back to work, eh?" Graham scrutinized his boss closely. He looked thinner than usual. "Dr. Arcane, have you eaten anything today?"
Arcane didn't say anything, just stared out into space, his arms folded tightly over his knees, with his head resting on them.
Now Graham was even more worried. "Have you eaten anything all week??"
Arcane buried his face in his arms. Even if it hadn't been muffled, his voice would have still been very quiet. "Everything turns to maggots."
Graham was extremely confused. What was he talking about?! "You've got to eat," he insisted, almost pleading. "You're getting weak from malnutrition."
"The last time I checked, you weren't my mother," Arcane snapped. "I don't need you telling me what to do." He got up unsteadily and headed for the doors.
Graham tried once more to entreat him. "Dr. Arcane, you're killing yourself!"
Arcane spun around. "It's time to start remembering who the genius is, and who the man is that's getting his paycheque signed by the genius. Now bugger off!!" He staggered into the elevator, and the doors slid shut.
Graham gave the doctor about thirty minutes to cool off before charging after him. He banged on the door to Arcane's quarters. "Dr. Arcane? It's me, Graham. Are you all right?"
He needn't have knocked. The door was unlocked. He walked in with more than a little apprehension.
"Graham?"
The doctor was sitting on his bed, hunched over tight. His voice sounded small and broken. "I'm hungry, Graham."
Graham sat down next to him. "Then why don't you eat something?" he asked gently.
Arcane rocked. "He won't let me eat. Not a thing."
"Who?"
Arcane didn't want to say it. He didn't want to even acknowledge the presence that he knew had to be causing this. He didn't want to make it true. "Just go away."
Graham was getting scared. "Sir, why can't you eat?"
Arcane shook his head. "Hallucinations... Everything I eat turns repulsive before my eyes. It's torture, Graham." He didn't even know why he was telling the man this. Graham would probably dial up 911 in two seconds flat and have them cart him away to a padded room.
However, Graham had been working here with Arcane too long, in Houma too long, to be sceptical of anything. The incident with the Chinese food made a lot more sense now, and Graham wished that Arcane would have confided in him sooner. "Maybe you could try to eat," he suggested. "I could try to find you something that might not look too awful... okay?"
"Whatever. I don't give a damn anymore."
Graham took that as a "yes", and when off in search of something to feed his boss. He hoped they wouldn't need to hook him up to an IV or anything, but if he kept starving himself, it might come down to that. As the elevator whirred, he sifted through the possibilities. Rice or any type of noodles were a definite no-no. And soup, too, now that he thought about it, although it would have been better for him, physically. Come to think of it, there were lots of foods that could look really bad through a hallucinatory haze. Meat products would probably be a bad idea, too. Graham bit his lip. The man had to eat something!
He finally settled on getting him a salad. It wasn't the best choice in the world, but it wasn't a harsh food either, or unhealthy, and Graham didn't see how lettuce could look bad anyway. He opened Arcane's door; the doctor was still rocking back and forth on his bed.
"I know you're the one doing this, Mirador," Arcane whispered. "I know it's not me. It's the only rational explanation. Just cease these infernal hallucinations, will you?"
"Dr. Arcane?" Arcane looked up to see Graham standing in the doorway. "I brought you something to eat."
Arcane looked down at the lettuce. He could barely see any of the green, there were so many maggots wriggling all over it. The sight made him pale. Arcane bit down a weakened sob. He was so hungry. He couldn't stand it anymore. It had been over a week since he had had anything but water, and even that congealed when he swallowed.
To hell with it, he thought, and forked some of it down ravenously, trying hard to suppress his gag reflex. He could feel the little things crawling down his throat.
Graham forced a weak smile. "That wasn't so bad, huh?"
Arcane didn't answer. He went to the bathroom and retched up his entire GI track.
Graham sighed. How was he going to get the doctor to eat? He couldn't just let him starve, but the hallucinations were tormenting him, and Graham couldn't understand why this was all happening. He looked up, hearing a loud noise.
Arcane banged on the mirror. "Mirador! I know you're in there... come out, come out wherever you are..." He looked around the mirror, peering into it and at it from all angles, as if trying to catch Mirador in hiding. "Mirador, don't try to hide from me!" He banged on the mirror again. "Come out, my hallucinatory friend, and give your darling student his mind back..." He laughed. It was the kind of laugh that sent shivers down Graham's spine when he heard it. "Dammit, Mirador, answer me!!"
Graham peeked his head in the door. "Um, are you all right, sir?"
Arcane smashed the back of his fist into the mirror, cracking the glass severely. "Oh, I'm just fine, Graham!" He punched the mirror again. "I've never felt better in my entire life!" Blood was streaming down from his knuckles.
Graham moved forward, sucking in a sharp intake of breath. "Sir, you're bleeding... Let me--"
Arcane spun around. "And since when did I give you permission to go barging into my room?!"
Graham visibly shrank. "I was just concerned, that's all..."
"Oh, just shut up." He smashed his hand into the mirror again, shattering it further and exacerbating the wound on his hand. "Come on, old man! Are you frightened of me?!?!"
The lights went out.
Graham looked around. "Must be a power outage." He turned to Arcane, who was kneeling on the floor. "Dr. Arcane, what are you doing?"
*"I see you've come crawling back."*
Arcane's eyes widened. "HA! The inevitable confrontation! I knew it was you!!"
*"Is it me?"* His mind went still.
"NO!" Arcane clawed at his skull, as if he could rip the presence out of hiding and draw it to him. "Oh, no you don't! Get back here!"
Graham edged over to the doctor slowly. "Dr. Arcane, he's not there anymore. Why don't you go lie down?" Arcane's voice was nothing but a whisper. "Mirador, let me eat something. Please. I'm so hungry."
Graham felt a stabbing pain in his heart. "Come on, Dr. Arcane. Get some rest."
Arcane just buried his face in his hands and didn't say anything.
Graham felt awful. He hadn't felt this helpless since Dr. Arcane's wife was killed. He sighed with far more weariness than a man his age should have known, and sank down against the wall. All he could do now was keep an eye on the man, and make sure he didn't do anything to hurt himself.

Continued in pt. 2

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