The Swamp seemed deceptively peaceful today. All around him, Alec watched life continue on as normal. All around him, things breathed, things grew, things swam, and crawled, and ate, and played, and mated, and lived....and died. This was normality. It happened every single day. It was the way of things. He closed his eyes and took it all in; all the glorious life-force around him. It soothed his soul... almost. He still couldn't silence that nagging little voice. *Live with it* he insisted to himself. *There's NOTHING you can do, so just live with it.* He smiled a peaceful, carefree smile as the world continued on. A walk was what he needed. With his eyes still closed, be began to stroll aimlessly around his domain, taking him wherever the mood carried him; just calmly listening to the sounds around him. See where the swamp would take him. *Become a part of it again... lose yourself to it. Forget the surroundings and enter the stillness of just being*.
He didn't know how long he'd been walking, or where. An hour... two... more. He'd been lost and blissfully peaceful in that time; aware only that life was resplendent around him; giving his total faith to The Swamp to show him peace and where to go. He felt good in perhaps the first time since....*Don't remind yourself* he said calmly, not giving in to previous doubts. The Swamp restored all balance and peace. Let it heal. He smiled in blissful unison with it. *Time to rejoin the other world* a voice that was his, but not his...something he was part of but far greater, spoke to him with infinite and loving patience. With a small sigh and a loving, benign smile, he allowed his human half to rejoin him, and opened his eyes again.
A deep frown furrowed his brow. He found himself standing at the edge of a huge clearing in the swamp. It was night-time, but he had no problem recognising the familiar sight of Arcane's complex.
"Why?" He said in confusion, his hands forming a questioning plea. "Why did you bring me here?"
"Alec?" A voice called to him from behind. He turned.
"Will. What are you doing here?"
"I could say the same for you, Alec. I've been calling to you for the last twenty minutes. You never even answered me. It was like you were in a trance...or something."
"Yes. Of sorts." Alec replied quietly, brooding.
"This got something to do with your earlier... er, mood?"
"I don't know... perhaps."
"Er, what ARE we doing here, Alec? Is Arcane up to something?" Alec remained silent. "He is, isn't he? What is it now? What's that jer... "
"Arcane is not up to anything." Alec said simply. Will looked puzzled.
"Well, if he isn't, why are we here? Look, it ain't exactly the safest of places to hang around if we don't have to, Alec."
"It's safe enough, Will." Alec stated with little emotion. Will looked at Alec with added scrutiny.
"How do you know? How can you be sure it's so safe; or that he's not planning some scheme or other?"
*Because he's dead. Because he's suffering in Hell for eternity. Because I killed him... no, MURDERED him* was what Alec wanted to say.
"I just know, that's all, Will. You'll have to trust me on that." Was what he actually said. *Coward* his mind cried out. Will was his closest, no, his ONLY friend since Jim disappeared. He had a right to know, didn't he? *Tell him!* he ordered himself. *No* Admit to his only friend that he was a murderer! Yes, that's what it boiled down to, didn't it? He could try all day, every day for the rest of eternity to convince himself there was no guilt; that it was a justified accident; that it was all right. *You can't hide the truth from yourself forever, Alec* his subconscious persisted. *Just admit it. You might even feel better... but I doubt it!*
"OK, Alec. Look, do you want me to stay. I'd like to help if I can."
"Thank you, Will; but I have to deal with this alone." *Of course you do. Can't have him knowing the truth about you, can we? Can't be seen to break his illusions and show him you're as flawed as the next man!*
"OK, if you're sure, Alec. If you need me, I'll be back at the house. Hell, I'm not planning on an early night!" He forced a friendly laugh, before turning and leaving.
"Hell" Alec repeated softly to himself. How easily people used that word. How little it meant. If they only knew... *Admit it* his mind cried out again. *Just say it!* He took a deep breath and surveyed the complex again. The lights were still on, but the place was silent. Nobody working in the pits; no signs of life anywhere. *An apt phrase* he mused. He closed his eyes again. He knew damn well what that nagging feeling had been all along. He knew why he hadn't been able to let go, and had to keep visiting that place. He knew. *Yes, Alec. Of course you know. You did murder him, didn't you? Accident? Hah! You felt him at the other end of that feedback. You didn't have to send that much. His equipment was destroyed long before you finished. You felt him, and you were finally sick of him! In that one single moment you weren't thinking of his wretched algae experiment. You remembered Linda, and Jim, and yourself, and all the others; and you WANTED him dead. You wanted it more than you ever wanted anything. You willingly sent a power surge you KNEW would kill him. No! More than willingly... You ENJOYED it! Where was that self control of yours? That compassion? That part of you that made you superior to HIM? You wanted revenge, and you took it because you could. You LOVED it! They were right, each and every one of those echoes. Part of you IS just like them.* With a roar of frustration he punched a rock by the side of the clearing.
*You chose to do it. Live with it!* the mental voice said harshly.
Another one answered, smaller, but more persistent;
*I can't*.


It was dark on the other side of the doorway. Not exactly pitch black, but barely enough light to make out any detail. The ground he was walking on was softer. He could tell that much. Arcane stepped forward warily, his eyes darting from left to right, looking for some sign of life... some sign of danger. Nothing. He walked a little farther. Behind him, the chilling sound of a door slamming shut echoed eerily. He gave a start. It was a trap. Now he knew. Hah! How could it have been any different? He turned, and made his way back, but the doorway had disappeared. The entire wall had disappeared! All around him, sounds grew louder. Crickets formed a chorus. He felt a breeze blowing on his face, and the air had become stiflingly humid. He gave a painful start as he felt something bite him on the face. Instinctively he moved to swat it away. A mosquito! It was growing lighter now, but he knew this place already.
He was in the swamp. *How absolutely bloody marvellous!* He couldn't get away from the place even in Hell!
"Ow!" He gave a cry as another mosquito arrived for lunch, and brought several friends. Again, he swatted them away.
A whispered voice coming from everywhere and nowhere seemed to permeate the entire area. It was as though the all insects called it out, all the creatures; the wind; and the rustling of the leaves.
"ARCANE" It seemed to whisper in macabre harmony. Was it his imagination, or was a deeper voice lurking behind there somewhere?... something dark, something totally malevolent... something he never wanted to meet in his worst nightmares.
Arcane shivered. He was getting that unnerving feeling of being watched from all directions.
"Ungghh!" He cried out, as a thorny branch caught him in the face on his way past it. Wiping the blood from his cheek, he looked at it. It was almost as if it moved itself.
A movement in the water caught his eye; a glistening splash. *Gators!* His eyes widened in fear. He backed away from the water.
"ARCANE" Came that intangible whisper again.
"Show yourself, Damn you! I know you're here!" He called out, partly in defiance, but mainly in fear. The unknown was the worst thing of all. "Who are you? Tressa!? Holland!?"
"ARCANE" Came the single repeated whisper. Nothing more... nothing less.
"DAMN IT. I KNOW YOU'RE HERE!! WHO ARE YOU!?" He screamed, his desperation growing.
"ARCANE... ARCANE... ARCANE... " It continued to echo.
He groaned in dismay as the ground became waterlogged ahead of him. He continued to push his way through the mud and filth; through the dense foliage that seemed to resist him with an almost sentient relish. The air was thick with mosquitoes now. They were crawling all over him, biting him, gorging on his blood; entering every facial orifice imaginable. They tasted foul! He blinked in disgust, flailing helplessly at them. For each one he squashed, a hundred took it's place.
"ARCANE" The whisper came again. No nearer, no further, no more tangible than before.
He stumbled on a tangled root and fell, cracking his head on a cypress root that was conveniently placed... too convenient for his liking. More mosquitoes joined the party.
Staggering to his feet, he pressed on.
He felt something crawling up on his shoulder, and tried to shake it off. He moved his hands weakly, squashing the insect. *Take that,* he thought, mustering some smile of triumph in the face of everything. The fact that he could have power over something in this swamp, even something as tiny as an insect, gave him a now unaccustomed sense of pleasure.
Then he felt more things crawling. He smacked again at the sources of the discomfort, but even more insects came to take their place.
No. No. He wasn't going to let this happen to him again. But there were even more insects this time, more insects than there had ever been. He tried to shake them off. And now they were all biting him, stinging him, smothering him. Arcane stifled a yelp, as a burning sensation shot through him. He hoped to God that the little buggers weren't poisonous. That was *all* he needed.
*Dammit, I'm not going to be beaten by a bunch of moronic insects!!* His will tried to assert itself; but they were everywhere, crawling around his arms and legs, into his clothing; through his hair, into his ears, his eyes, his nose. He began to gag on them. He shook his head furiously. "No, stop that!" he whispered. More entered his mouth. They bit him again, inside and out; and he whimpered, the burning sensation more pronounced. They were all over him now. A human shaped walking mass of life; writhing and teeming; and he couldn't *stand* it, he couldn't *stand* it, he hated bugs, he just bloody *hated* them... Oh yes, he had worked with them, dissected them, experimented on them, observed them, but they were behind glass, or dead, or at a distance... he *hated* it when they crawled on him, he was human and he *hated* it. This creeping, crawling sensation over his entire body was driving him mad: He was eating them, breathing them. All he could see was them, and it was driving him insane. He snapped, writhing, trying desperately to get away. At the wild, flailing movements, they continued to bite, all of them, almost in unison, and he was burning all over--
*Water....wash them off!* Cried his mind; but he couldn't see water. He couldn't see anything but more bloody bugs!
He staggered on, demented now in revulsion and hatred. Finally, he felt his feet splashing into liquid. Without a second thought for gators or any other dangers that may be lurking there, he collapsed down, vomiting the creatures and limited content of his gut, and desperately attempting to wash those hideous things off him. When he blacked out, it was more of a mercy than he'd had in ages.

When he came to, they were gone. Each and every one of them. Only the sores and pocked marked swellings all over him showed that they'd ever been there. With a choked sob, he got to his feet.
"Aah!!" He gave a sharp cry as a searing pain went through his ankle. He looked down. Slithering away through the moist undergrowth was a water moccasin. In a panic, he sat down and looked at the bite. Dammit! If he didn't get the poison out he'd die... well, not that it would be anything out of the ordinary for here! He didn't have a knife. He desperately looked around for anything sharp to use. Nothing. *Sodding typical of this place!* Cursing, he grasped his leg, attempting to bring it to his mouth to bite the flesh away, and suck out the poison.
"Wonderful! Now I've got to be a bloody contortionist!" He snarled, trying vainly to bite at his own ankle. *Wouldn't it be easier just to die and let everything heal itself afterwards?* he wondered. *But what if it's a lie? What if any one of these deaths could be the final one?* He couldn't take that chance. He simply couldn't. He tried again, grunting with the effort. He succeeded. Screwing his eyes shut from the pain, he bit through his own flesh, taking a huge chunk out. He then proceeded to suck out the toxins before they got into his bloodstream. With a gasp of pain and relief, he succeeded.
It was a pity that in his distraction, he failed to notice the trio of gators approaching him hungrily from behind with alarming rapidity.
The sounds of rending and shrieking filled the air of the otherwise serene swamp.
Somewhere... Something seemed deeply satisfied.


He moved forward towards the complex. He didn't know why, only that something was making him do it. *Feel better now, Alec?* He mused cynically. *No.* came the bitter reply.
Tearing through the perimeter mesh with ease, he entered the grounds. He stood pensively and looked around. Nobody. Everything was quiet. It was clear that the place had been abandoned for now. He walked around the area, taking in the memories. He looked down into one of the pits. He remembered this place; remembered a man jumping to his death in a pool of acid... another innocent victim of Arcane's evil and madness.
*So, feeling less guilty yet?*
*No.*

The sound of machine gun fire rended the air. Alec started as he felt the lead slamming into and through him. He was wrong. He wasn't alone at all.
"YOU DID THIS, DIDN'T YOU!! IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!"
Alec turned to regard his assailant. The bullets were little more than a minor annoyance.
"Graham." He muttered, closing in on Arcane's now demented assistant. Barely able to even see through his tears, Graham continued to fire, even after the clip from his Ingram was empty. With a scream of frustration he charged Alec, hitting him with the now useless gun which was now doubling as a club. With a growl, Alec grabbed it from the struggling man and crushed it like an eggshell, tossing it away. Graham started kicking and punching him with his hands and feet. Alec pushed the man away, but Graham got up almost immediately, rushing Alec headfirst with a scream of rage. With mounting irritation, Alec raised his fist and hit the man across the face with the back of his hand, sending him sprawling backwards where he landed unceremoniously on his behind. Alec turned and continued to walk away.
Another furious yell approaching him warned him of Graham's persistence. He turned in time to be headbutted by the man. It was like a mosquito trying to take on an elephant, but that wasn't stopping Graham one iota.
With an angry roar, he grabbed Graham by the throat with his left hand, and hoisted the struggling assistant into the air. His right hand clenched into a fist and he brought it upwards and backwards, building strength. *What are you doing?* a voice called out. *Isn't this what you did before? Want to make it a record and send two of them there in as many days?*
He lowered his hand. He'd almost given in again. Those bullets could never have hurt him. He knew that, and so did Graham. He gently lowered the assistant to the ground where he cried softly to himself. Alec looked down at him with pity. *Well, at least you CAN still feel that* the voice said sardonically.
"You... you killed him, didn't you? You killed Dr. Arcane? You murdered him?" Graham sobbed, not looking at Alec.
"Yes." Alec said softly.


With a frightened cry, Arcane was shaken back into life again. Immediately he looked around, the memory of those rows of evil teeth still imprinted vividly on his mind. The wounds were gone, but the clothing hung in shreds from him. All the blood and muck seemed to attract the mosquitoes again. As soon as he was back, they swarmed into him again.
"ARCANE" The whisper was still there, all around him.
He looked around in terror. Apart from the damned mosquitoes it was quiet enough. He pressed on.
"ARCANE" Came a sound on the wind, mocking, teasing. He waded on, trying to shut it out of his ears.
He heard a splashing just behind him, which caused him to almost jump in shock. He quickened his pace.

He must have been walking an hour or so before the foliage became less dense and a clearing was ahead. The heat was stifling, the humidity dragging him down. He was exhausted now, and he paused to take a breather. The splash echoed behind him again, startling him out of any complacency he may have had, pushing him on. Immediately, he began to drag himself along again.
Ahead, there was a building. He could see that much. Just by the water's edge. He got closer, and as he did so, a feeling on recognition and dread descended upon him.
"I know what you want me to bloody do. You want me to go in there!" He shouted.
"ARCANE" The noncommittal whisper echoed all around him.
"I WON'T bloody do it! Nothing's making me go in there! NOTHING!" He screamed, gazing at the Hollands' old makeshift laboratory. Behind him came the splashing sound. He turned, and this time saw the tell tale signs of leathery, pointed scales breaking the water's surface; the occasional opening of a long snout filled with razor sharp, gleaming death. He swallowed nervously, backing off. A noise to his right made him turn. More of them... a lot more.
He waded forward, past the building, but ahead lay a positive horde of the things, writhing round each other, moving towards him. Left was the only way to go... towards the laboratory. He staggered there, walking past the stairs leading to the entrance. They were waiting for him just beyond: At least 20 of the buggers! Big ones. He backed off again, but they were all around, circling him, but not attacking. Almost taunting him. He was standing by the steps now, and still they closed in. With a grimace, he climbed the first couple of steps. A huge thing, almost 20 feet long, began lumbering out of the water, putting it's leathery paw on the first step, lifting it's bulk out of the water. Others began following. With a frightened gasp, like a cornered animal, Arcane climbed higher, backing away, looking at the encroaching horde with sickening dread. And still they followed.
Before he knew what was happening, he was standing next to the door of the building.
"All right. You've proven your bloody point!" He cried, opening the thing and ducking in for safety, just as the lead gator made a snap at where his leg had been moments previously. He slammed the door behind him, bolting it firmly on the inside.
*Safe!* His mind reeled. *Don't you bloody believe it for a minute!* It echoed immediately afterwards.
Shaking, he looked around, taking it all in. He'd seen the laboratory from the outside before, although he'd never been in it per se; but it looked very much like Javert had described it to him. There was a bookcase on the far wall; and benches with ongoing work. To his left was a metal filing cabinet. The place was small, and crude for a laboratory. The only external light source was a single venetian blinded window to his right. His eyes fell on a beaker ahead of him. Within it was a luminous green liquid. His eyes widened.
"The... the bio-Restorative Formula!" He gasped. No, it couldn't be! It was a replica, surely!? *But what if it's real? What if it can give you true life again, even here?*
He edged forward, reaching out; then stopped. *Isn't this what you've spent years searching for? Why the bloody hell are you hesitating?* No, it was some sick trap; it had to be! *What if Holland's taken pity on you, and this is your way out?... What if it's your ultimate death?* He was torn.
Ignoring the formula, he went to the window and looked out over the swamp. It was deceptively peaceful. He couldn't see any sign of the gators. He edged back over to the door again, and unbolted it, opening it the tiniest fraction to peer out. The snap of a giant maw made him slam it shut hurriedly, bolting it again.
"Bugger!" He snarled aloud. He turned back to the formula. Perhaps he could just wait here and do nothing for a while... before making a decision? That would give him the rest he so badly needed.
A huge thud was heard on the other side of the door, and the force behind it almost broke the bolt. Arcane gave a gulp of fear. Well, they obviously weren't going to let that happen, were they? There was no other way. Whatever the outcome, he wasn't going to be allowed to ignore the formula.
Reaching out, he grasped the beaker. Nothing happened. He looked round the bench. A hypodermic was at the other end.
*All you have to do in inject it. No trick. It's real. All you have to do is inject it and you WILL live again and be free of here forever.* A voice whispered in his head... a voice that wasn't his. *Surely just injecting it can't be that difficult* It said tantalisingly. *It is real. I can promise you that much.* He put the beaker down and fumbled for the syringe, desperately, his heart beating fast in his chest. He dropped the thing twice, he was so nervous. Shaking, he drew up liquid from the beaker into the syringe, before clumsily fitting the needle. He put it to a vein. *Air bubbles, Anton, air bubbles* He gasped, forgetting even the basics in his panicked haste. He held it up and tapped the syringe lightly, driving the air to the top. He forced it out of the syringe, until only the glorious, life saving liquid remained. This was it! With a laugh driven out of both joy and terror, he put the needle to the vein in his forearm.
Another thud at the door, this time louder, made him start. In his shock, he dropped the syringe. Still keeping a wary eye on the door, he got to his knees and groped around for it. It was there! Still safe. It hadn't shattered. He retrieved it with an audible sigh of relief and readied himself again.
The door swung open with a huge crash, the bolt flying off and nearly hitting Arcane. With alarming speed, the gator launched itself straight at him. The syringe went flying out of his hand and Arcane barely managed to escape the snap of it's jaw as he dived over a bench for relative safety. As he did so, glass and equipment went flying with him. Beakers, flasks, papers... Bunsen burner.
To his right, flames licked along the lines of spilled chemicals... luminous green ones amongst them. Arcane waited anxiously for some signs of that monster hurtling round the bench for him. Nothing.
He glanced out ahead. It was gone! No signs that it had ever been there. No! It couldn't have been his imagination. Wait! The door was closed again. That thing had opened it, hadn't it? He was confused.
Heat to his right made him turn. The fire had now firmly taken hold. He looked around for some means of putting it out. Nothing. Not a bloody thing! He looked back to the bench, for the formula. Shattered! He grimaced in disbelief. *Wait! The syringe!* He started looking desperately around the place. *Yes. There!!* He saw it lying, still intact, in the middle of the flames. Steeling himself, he reached out, putting his hand into the fire. With a scream of pain he withdrew it. *It's your only way out!* His mind commanded him. He reached in again, tears of pain flowing down a face contorted in agony. He edged further, and his fingertips managed to touch it... just as the heat caused it to shatter into fragments, the precious liquid contained therein lost forever. Withdrawing his charred arm, he screamed in denial, over and over, sobbing uncontrollably. *It WAS real.* That voice echoed in his head, one last time.
"Damn you Holland, you bastard! Damn you! I was so close... so close, damn you!!" He cried. *You were never even near* His own mind reminded him cynically.
A more immediate problem brought him back to reality. The heat in the place was overpowering now, and the flames were growing closer. Getting to his feet, he ran to the door. Gators or no gators, he COULDN'T stay here. He unlocked the bolt and tried to open the door. It wouldn't budge. Not a sodding inch! He tried again, more forcefully. Nothing. There was no lock. Why wouldn't it open!? Panicked, and coughing on thick black smoke, he made his way to the window. Grabbing a chair, he hurled it against the glass. It bounced back, hitting him painfully on the shoulder. He began pounding on it. Try as he might, he couldn't make a crack or dent in it.
The heat grow worse. The smoke was stinging his eyes and choking him. He squinted and looked out of the window.
There was a figure, watching him. A woman!
"Linda! Linda Holland!" He gasped, staring at her. He began pounding on the glass again; "Linda! Help me, I'm trapped! Please help me! Open the door Linda, PLEASE, OPEN THE DOOR!!! She didn't move, just continuing to look on serenely.
He couldn't breathe, but still he remained conscious.
"Oh my God!" He gasped, realising the full potential of his predicament. This was it! The final death! He'd escaped into the swamp too early! Holland was going to make sure he died the way Linda died. Could this be his real death? Isn't this how it would happen?
"Open the door, Linda, PLEASE. I never meant for you to die. LINDA! I wasn't even there! Please, you can't leave me here. It was an accident. I...I didn't do it! I swear I didn't do it!! It was Javert and The Handyman. They did it. They killed you, not me!!" He screamed; "I'M ON FIRE!! Help me!!" She just watched. "I..I...I.. only wanted them to get the formula..... I...I never told them to hurt you.... Aaaghhh!!" She continued to just watch passively.
The heat was unendurable. By now his hair was charred to a ruined stubble. His skin had begun to blister, peel and melt. His tears had evaporated before they'd even reached his cheek. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, that still logical part of him wondered why he was still conscious. The smoke should have mercifully ended it well before now... but it hadn't, had it?
"LINDA!! AAAAIIEEEEE!!!" He screamed, as the blood began to boil inside him, bursting his eyes. "LINDAAAAA!!" He collapsed to his knees, a fiery human shaped thing, with one hand still pressed against the glass in vain plea.
He was dead before he even touched the ground.
With a last curious glance, the woman calmly turned and walked away.


"ARCANE" That damnable whisper was the first thing he became aware of when he awoke. He sobbed bitterly. Part of him was overwhelmed with relief that he was back; that it wasn't the big death. Most of him knew that this wasn't for his benefit. He ran his hands through his hair and across his skin. Whole again; dressed again. He was lying in the mud, and there was no sign of the laboratory... or Gators!
Without wasting a single second, he clawed his way to his feet, and began wading onwards again. Panic was creeping in now, and he quickened his pace. Was it his imagination, but for each time he tried to go quicker, the ground seemed to drag him down just that little bit more?
"ARCANE" It was almost like the whisper had developed a laugh... even a mocking tone to it.
As he struggled onwards, an image of every possible danger contained within a swamp seemed to flash before his eyes. It was a very long flash.
A splashing sound to his right made him jump and gasp. Then one to his left! He looked around, terrified. Where could he go. Death could come charging from anywhere, at anytime. The leaves and branches whipped his body as he past them; His face was swelling from the mosquitoes again.
"WHO ARE YOU? LINDA?" He yelled in desperation. *Don't you know?* He gulped in terror. Of course he knew. It was all around him. *And where the swamp is, who... what else can you expect to find?*
"Oh my God!" He gasped in fear. He couldn't face that... Not in person! With a shriek of terror he tried to run further.
He couldn't move. Panicking, he started to struggle. That only made it worse. He looked down in horror. He was in this quagmire up to his thighs now. And still the mosquitoes feasted.
He reached out his arm, desperately trying to reach a gnarled root inches away from his hand. It was just too far.
He was now down to his waist. Mustering all the strength he could, and adrenaline certainly helped there, he tried again, succeeding in touching the thing.
It moved away from him. *It moved! It...it actually moved!* He saw it move away! He shook his head in mute disbelief. His chest was being covered now.
"Help me!" He screamed. "PLEASE!! HELP ME! DON'T LEAVE ME LIKE THIS, I BEG YOU!! HELP ME, PLEASE!"
"ARCANE" Came the deceptively serene whisper.
It was past his neck now, and the slime, mud and filth began filling his mouth and nostrils. His screams and pleas became a muted gurgling.

And pretty soon, even they were silent.


Graham sniffled and choked, staggering to his feet with a sorrowful moan before he spun around. Snarling in grief, a sudden fury returning, he threw some weak punches at Holland's chest, lashing out exhaustedly.
"You killed him, you stupid green freak, you killed him!" He continued his pathetic attempt to pummel Holland, as Alec just stood there quietly and let him. "You finally won, didn't you? You finally got what you wanted; you always get what you want!"
Graham didn't make a dent on Alec, didn't even hurt him at all, but it was starting to gnaw irritatingly on his over-frayed nerves. Guilt, conscience and the horrific realisation of his own capacity for brutality aside, if Graham didn't cut it out in about five seconds, there was going to be some major ass kicking going on.
"Graham!" Alec said firmly.
Graham's rage was finally spent this time; he stepped backwards tiredly, black, cold depression settling firmly in his chest as the grief-born rage cooled a little inside his broken heart.
"What do you want, Holland?" he asked flatly.
"The swamp led me here," Alec explained, knowing full well that the sentence sounded extremely lame.
"Come to finish me off, too?" Graham sneered blackly. "Go ahead, Holland. Why don't you just murder everyone else here, too? If you're fast you can catch the sentry guards before they resign! I think Stella's down in the basement!! Her hearing's not that good -- maybe you can get her while her back is turned!!" His voice was screaming again, and then broke with another tiny sob. He sank down again, weighted. Alec looked down. He felt he ought to say something; but what? Arcane didn't deserve the loyalty this man showed, he knew that much. However misguided that loyalty, however undeserving; despite the assistant being a wreck at his feet, Alec couldn't help feel a deep respect for this man. *How can a man like Arcane instil such loyalty?* he wondered. *How the Universe moves in mysterious ways*. It wasn't fear of him; it wasn't the promise of riches and wealth; it wasn't an appeal to whatever baser, power hungry desires this man might have had. He was simply loyal...to distraction. Alec had only ever known this kind of bond from those closest to him: Linda, Jim, Will, Irma... Ann possibly? Who could tell? *How does a creature like Arcane get that?* He shook his head slowly. *Unhappy? Don't you like the thought that something, somewhere in Arcane can bring out the best in even one person? Wasn't it easier thinking there'd be no-one to care when he'd gone; that everyone would cheer; that you'd done the world a favour and it didn't really matter?* Who would really mourn for Arcane? *Obviously one person does* He put his arm out for Graham to take. The man didn't notice him.
"Graham." He said softly, proffering his arm again.
The assistant looked up bitterly. "Come to gloat, Holland? Come to see the results of your handiwork?" He spat out.
"No." Alec stated. The nagging voice was no longer there. This time he knew it wasn't a lie.
Graham began to laugh. "Come to apologise then? Hah! Well save it, Holland. Bit late for that, isn't it?"
"I've come to help." Alec said with new-found conviction. For perhaps the first time he was beginning to realise why The Swamp had brought him here. Things were becoming unclouded in his mind; emotions sorting themselves out and finally gelling into more certainty. How could he have ever solved the conflict within him when he was still fighting himself and denying the truth? He was beginning to see things as though a veil of fog was being lifted. All the time he thought his opponents were the echoes. How he should have known better. Will had started the metamorphosis, and Graham was the catalyst. *Will, you've already helped more than you'll ever know* he thought.
"Help!? Don't make me laugh, you murdering freak. You..."
"I've seen him." Alec said calmly. Graham stopped in mid sentence.
"What do you mean; 'seen him'?" He asked curiously.
"Where he is now. I have seen him... visited him if you will."
"He's dead."
"Yes. He is quite dead. And I've seen him."
"I don't understand. Wait! You can speak to the dead, can't you? He said you could."
"He's in a place far away, yet near."
"For once in your goddamned life, speak normal English, Holland! This is no time for being cryptic!"
"Very well. He's in the afterlife. He's physical there... sentient."
Graham clutched his head, reeling with this knowledge. He'd never even given much thought to the metaphysics of whether afterlives existed before.
"I have to talk to him. I NEED to talk to him. You owe us that, Holland!"
Holland looked down. "It's not that simple. I cannot simply let you talk to him. His situation... it doesn't work like that for him."
"What do you mean 'his situation'? You did! How the Hell did you manage it?"
*That word again* Alec sighed. There was no way around it. He wasn't going to hide his actions any longer.
"Hell is exactly how I managed it, Graham."
"What?" Graham said reticently.
"He's in Hell, Graham."
Graham shook his head vehemently. "Hell... Heaven... they don't exist. They're just stupid myths. Church propaganda. You expect me to believe that?"
"You asked." Alec replied. "Perhaps biblical images of demons is or isn't true, but people send themselves to whatever they feel is their due; and those they knew; and hurt, become instruments of their punishment. He knew a lot of people, Graham."
"You've seen him then. How is he?"
Alec had dreaded this question. How to answer? He sighed and lowered his head slightly.
"Just tell me how bad it really is." Graham could see the look. It didn't need explanation.
"I doubt you would really want to know the answer to that, Graham." Alec said darkly. Graham shuddered.
"You said you wanted to help? Are you going to talk to him again... go back to him?"
"Yes." Alec said without hesitation. It came naturally, and he was surprised at how little conflict was trying to stop him this time.
"I'm coming with!" Graham said firmly, finally grasping Holland's hand and pulling himself to his feet.
"That's not possible. You cannot come with."
"Why not?"
Alec conceded that an answer to that one wasn't entirely easy. "It may not be possible."
"But it might. YOU could."
"Even if I were able to take you with me, the dangers there are unimaginable..."
"And he's facing them alone!"
"You might be killed; or worse... spend eternity there with him."
"You got out just fine, Holland. I'll take my chances."
He was right, Alec admitted. Whatever the risks, it was his choice to make. He'd pointed out the dangers... genuinely tried to dissuade him. If anything happened this would NOT be on his conscience this time. It was not Graham's Hell. There was no reason they'd harm him.
"Very well." Alec said evenly. Graham stiffened in shock. It was what it asked for, but hearing it still came anything but easily.
"Er... how... how do we do it? How did YOU do it?" He said in a smaller voice. Alec explained to him.
"And you will be able to do that with me? How? I...I don't know how to go out of my body."
"I can try and carry your soul down the conduit with mine. It's something I've never done before." He paused. "I've only just tried it alone. It may not be possible to bring another."
"B...but..you will try?"
"Yes. I said that I would, and I will." He promised.
Graham closed his eyes and nodded in affirmation. "So, er..like...when do we do it? Do we need to go anywhere particular? Do we need to do some special protection something or other?"
"Our bodies will remain on this world, inert. As long as they are protected from others finding them, that is all. No particular place is needed."
Graham nodded. He motioned to the elevator doors some couple of hundred yards away. "Nobody'll come snooping in the lab. We'll be safe there." Alec wasn't happy. Being in the complex held bad memories, and was hardly in the heart of his domain and power; but since the only alternative would be to take Graham to his sanctum, it would have to do. THAT was not an option.
Together they set off.


Arcane gave a start as life shocked it's way back into him yet again. He opened his eyes, and was immediately blinded by stinging, clogging mud and goo. He couldn't breathe. his mind screamed. Everything around him was dark and wet; a womb deadly... not safe. He could barely move his arms against the resisting bog forcing him down, but he still clawed desperately up for the surface. Nothing....only more filth above him. He was still entombed in this quagmire. Panic gripped him, but as he tried to scream his terror, more filth flowed into his mouth, silencing even the muffled gurgling as his shortest lifespan yet ended in pathetic failure.
Above the surface, life was peaceful and happy.
A satisfied buzz echoed through the entire swamp


Deep within the complex... deep inside the lab...
Graham smoothed his hand over the clear cryo-tube almost lovingly, gazing down inside it before sliding it back into the alcove where it had been hidden.
"Don't worry, Holland!" he muttered to himself with bitterness, his eyes gleaming. "If you don't bring him back, then I will." His expression grew softer as he looked back to the tube. "I will," he repeated with extreme tenderness.

Alec entered the lab. "Ready?"
Graham nodded. "I'll disable the elevator... well, in case anybody does come; not that they will." Graham mumbled, fiddling with a control panel. Alec just stood there, taking in the place. It was just as Arcane must have left it before... Quiet now. All the horrors that must have happened in this very room... so quiet now. *Maybe it was for the best* the voice chimed up.
*No.* his mind decided firmly.
Graham approached him. He shrugged nervously.
"So, do we do it now? Do we just stand here? Or maybe we should sit down...or, well, lie down, or..erm... Do I need to do anything, or know anything?, erm..."
"Just sit down and take my hand." Alec said calmly, seating himself on the floor of the laboratory. Graham complied reticently, seating himself cross-legged. Gingerly, he put out a hand and held onto Alec's. He instinctively closed his eyes.
A second later he opened one cautiously.
"Is this OK?" he muttered. Alec just nodded.
"Still your mind. Think only of me. Become part of me."
Graham did as he was told. *What the hell am I doing? What have I let myself in for?* his mind raced. *For Doctor Arcane* came the simple reply, and he became calm. He concentrated his thoughts on Holland. Damn it, nothing was happening!
"Your thoughts are blocking you, Graham. You need to be calm and peaceful. Don't force the concentration. It only makes things harder. Let it come naturally. If it's meant to be, it will." Alec said soothingly.
*Easy for you to say* Graham's mind shouted to him.
"I said think of me; become me. Hating me does not qualify." Alec tried to instil some sense of calm into the more than agitated assistant.
*Dr. Arcane's dead and I'm about to go to Hell with his murderer... and he wants me calm and happy!* Graham's mind moaned. *OK, Graham, we can do this! Think happy, peaceful thoughts. ANYTHING peaceful.* His mind conjured forth images of warm summer days; flowers, fluffy white laboratory bunnies; happy childhood memories with his family in Cleveland; it flowed gently back to fonder times in the lab. A more recent image tried to force it's way through, but he let it pass calmly, bringing forth a happier one. He was aware of becoming stiller in spirit. Now Holland. He pictured the mossy botanic mutant whose huge hand he was holding; pictured him with positive thoughts and feelings....feelings that didn't involve murder!... No!... happy calm feelings of Holl... Alec. Nice Alec. Good Alec. And now he imagined himself as Alec.
He wasn't aware how regulated and deep his breathing had become. The world around him was beginning to feel less substantial. Nothing seemed to matter anymore at the moment. This was beautiful. Is this what dying was like? A tugging sensation carried him along. He just went with it, so still, so peaceful.
"We are here." Alec intoned. Graham was still lost in bliss. "Graham. We are here." Alec said again, letting go of the man's hand. With a shudder, Graham was jolted back to their current reality.
"What? I...We... Are we?..."
"Yes."
Graham was still feeling disoriented. He looked around.
Well, it certainly wasn't what he imagined Hell to be. Where were all the demons, and pitchforks, and fire and heat. It was just a room; an ordinary, fairly large room, with doors and corridors leading off from it.
"This... this is it?" He said incredulously.
"Nothing is as it seems, Graham. Never forget that."
"Guess we'd better find Dr. Arcane." Graham got to the point. Alec nodded. "Do you think we'd best, well, stick together here?" He asked Alec.
"That would be advisable." Alec replied.
"No, guys, I don't think so!" Came a cheerful voice from a doorway. They both turned.
"Tressa Kipp!?" Graham gasped, moving forward. Alec held out a hand to stop him.
"No, Graham. You DON'T want to get involved with this."
"Too late, boys, you're here. You're already involved."
"Where's Dr. Arcane?" Graham asked angrily. Tressa looked at him and laughed.
"Arrogant little thing, isn't he?" she grinned. "Been giving him lessons, Alec?"
"He doesn't know this place yet." Alec defended Graham.
"Oh, but he will, won't he?"
"I won't let you harm him." Alec said calmly, but forcefully.
"Still trying to order us around. Tsk tsk! Relax, Alec. We won't harm the little thing. It's not his Hell, after all."
"Where is Arcane?" Alec repeated Graham's question.
"Gone to ground somewhere." She grinned. I'm not dealing with him at the moment, so I guess you're just going to have to go looking. Separately, though!"
"Why? Why is it so important for us to be separate? Are you afraid of us in numbers greater than one?"
"Nah, it's just more fun when you're separate. And I insist. It's part of the rules. Made it up 2 minutes ago in fact!" Alec hesitated. "I said he wouldn't be hurt. You've got my word on that, all right?"
"What is your word worth?" Alec asked her suspiciously.
"The paper it's written on, but you either go separately, or not at all."
"I don't believe any more that you really do have the power to command me, even here." Alec stepped forward with new determination. Tressa's face hardened.
Graham stepped forward to intervene.
"Look, I don't think we should be angering her. I...I'll go alone. I don't think she'll hurt me. And I want to see Dr. Arcane alone...if I can."
"Very well." He turned to Tressa; "But if he is harmed, I'll..."
"Oh put a sock in it, Alec! He WON'T be harmed, as long as he obeys the rules and doesn't interfere. Besides, maybe some pleasant company for Arcane as a little respite wouldn't go amiss."
Alec's brow furrowed in brooding curiosity as he noticed a sly look developing on Tressa's face.
"Er, where do we go?" Graham said meekly.
Tressa gave a wide eyed smile; "Anywhere you want. Doesn't matter. We all end up where we're meant to anyway." Laughing, she left through one of the doors.
Graham turned to Alec.
"I'll be fine... I think." He shrugged. Looking around the place, he examined all the exits from the room. He finally decided on an open corridor to the right, and started walking towards it. Alec watched him go in silence, before turning to the door that Tressa had gone through, following.


*Oh God NO, NO! Please, NO* Arcane's mind reeled as life entered his body yet again. Still in the quagmire. How many times had he choked and gagged to death in here, only to live again and die a few paltry moments later? 30, 40 times....more? How long had he been in here? Time didn't seem to mean anything here. *Only a day* Still screamed through his memories. This seemed like weeks... months. *Probably only minutes really*. The bug filled muck began filling his mouth again. *Please! Not again, please, I beg you , PLEASE, HAVE MERCY, PLEASE, PLEASE!!! I'm sorry, so sorry. Please, I..I'll respect you!! I'll never try to destroy you or poison you again, or hurt you, or... PLEASE. Don't let me die again here! Not like this! PLEASE, I'M BEGGING YOU, PLEASE!!!* He didn't even have the will or strength to fight against the pressure of the filth. Broken, he just slumped and waited for death to take him again.
A sharp pain tugged at the top of his head. He felt himself being lifted by his hair. *Can't breathe...* His thoughts were hazy. He was nearer the surface, but everything was growing faint again.
He never saw the clean air as his head broke surface. Never felt the thud of the earth as his body was thrown to the ground with ease like a rag doll.

He never lived to see that he was finally free.


Graham edged reticently down the corridors. So many doors. So many opening. All looking exactly the same. He eventually stopped and made a decision. Taking a door handle, he turned it and entered. It was just another bare room. Nothing.
"Dr. Arcane!?" He shouted out. No response. Nothing.
"Ah, Graham!" A beautifully familiar voice appeared behind him. He turned.
"Doctor?" He gasped, his face broadening into a huge smile.
"Why naturally, Graham. Who else?" Came the supremely confident reply.
"I...I..I thought you'd be, er, more... well, er... Doctor, I can't tell you how happy I am to see you're all right!" He surveyed the calm and pristine form of his mentor, who smiled back at him; a glint in his eye.
"Oh Graham. You came to visit. I'm touched, I really am. You are planning to stay, aren't you? Oh, what amusements we can have down here together. It's such a terribly boring place really; and since I can't leave...well..." He put his arm round the overjoyed assistant, stroking a few strands of hair.
"Stay? What, here in... here...in..."
"Hell, Graham. You can say the word, you know. Yes, stay with me here. Help me. Work with me, just like old times, eh? Being a bit of a solo practitioner here can get so tedious. But together? Together we can accomplish so much more, don't you think?"
Graham, for whatever reason he couldn't fathom, was beginning to get intensely unnerved. Holland's whole reason for being here, his disturbed expression when he'd asked him how the Doctor was: Doctor Arcane was supposed to be hurt; suffering. But he wasn't, was he? Had Holland lied to get him here?
*No* He didn't know why, but that seemed impossible.
"Oh dear, I don't like that look on your face at all, Graham. It's such a negative look. Now you're not thinking of giving me bad news, are you? I really don't want bad news right now!"
Graham pushed his arm off him, and backed away, a look of horror on his face. He shook his head.
"You're not Doctor Arcane, are you?"
"Why of course I am, Graham. Who else could I be?" He spoke softly, giving his trademark smile.
"No." Graham shook his head vehemently. It was Doctor Arcane, in every conceivable way. There was nothing he could see or tell that indicated that he wasn't. But part of him knew. Something was very wrong here. "You're one of THEM, aren't you?"
"Them?" Arcane said innocently.
"Those doubles, mirrors, echoes. You're just one of them!"
"Graham, Graham. The creature you knew isn't the Arcane you remember, nor will he ever be again. I'm more Arcane than he'll ever be now. I'm me, Graham, and if you know what's good for you, you'll forget about HIM. Just think of me as your new Arcane. You and I, we'll make such a good team down here... trust me."
Graham felt sick. "Torturing Doctor Arcane, you mean?"
Arcane smiled. "Just carrying out a few tests and pleasantries on a now pathetic creature you wouldn't recognise anyway. I really wouldn't worry about it, Graham."
"What have you done to him." He shouted angrily.
"Tsk tsk... IT, Graham, not HIM." Arcane said condescendingly "You know we don't refer to our experiments as HIM."
"I said what have you done to HIM?"
"Me. I've done nothing.... yet. I didn't really get the chance. Still, there's eternity to play in. Plenty of time to get really stuck in, eh?" He laughed.
"What have THEY done to him then?" Graham snarled, tears filling up his eyes. Arcane gave a cold laugh.
"They've been remarkably imaginative, I have to admit. More than I'd have give those morons credit for. Here, let me give you just the tiniest of tasters, Graham." He grasped Graham's hand, and several garbled images and emotions flooded through Graham's mind. It was only the smallest fraction of events here, but Graham reeled in revulsion. "Beat me to most of the good ideas so far. Looks like I'll have to pull out a few stops to top what they've done, but that's not exactly a problem is it, Graham? I am THE Anton Arcane! Nothing is beyond my capacity for total brilliance and imagination."
"You're not Doctor Arcane." Graham stated with fury. "You're a sick and pathetic image of him. Get away from me."
"Last chance, Graham. You can join me, or lose any opportunity of having an Arcane back. You may as well forget the version you knew. He's the imitation now."
Graham backed away.
"Hmmm, pity." Arcane sighed. "Now that's put me in something of a bad mood. I suppose I'll just have to take it out on the good ex-Doctor when I find him." He grinned malevolently.
"Bastard!" Graham screamed, hitting him in the face before turning and running blindly out the door, sobbing.
Outside, he ran on and on until tiredness finally overwhelmed him. Panting for breath, his chest burning with the exhaustion, he stood gasping outside another door. He waited a few moments to catch his breath, then grasped the handle. He hesitated. *What's on the other side of this one?* Terror crept into his thoughts. This wasn't HIS Hell. If this is what it was like for just him, poor Doctor Arcane!... He tried desperately to forget those few tiny fragments that monster had shown him. And if that was only the merest glimpse...? *Oh God!* Steeling himself, he turned the handle and entered.
"Dr. Arcane?" He shouted.


Arcane lay on the cold, cold ground, shivering all over. He wasn't moving. It was so cold. Why was it so cold? The swamp had spit him up not long ago, half-drowned -- really drowned? He couldn't remember... Choking up mud, dirt, insects, stagnant water... Why was he so cold? He hugged himself. He wanted to go home. He wanted to curl up under his nice, snugly warm blankets, pull the covers over his head and be wrapped in that small, merciful comfort. Just for a minute. A minute would have been fine. Sixty mere seconds of a respite that wasn't death. An hour would have been better, but a minute would have been fine. Arcane struggled to his feet and began running again, trying to get out of the swamp at all costs. A root snagged him and he stumbled, twisting his ankle as the ground seemed to disappear in front of him. Arcane rolled down the steep embankment, rocks and roots and sharp, hurtful things striking him, fracturing him. He bled and lay there gasping for a minute before struggling to get up. He was so dizzy. He could barely see straight. His vision doubled, then singled out, then doubled again.
"HA!" he cried shakily, his voice cracking as he attempted at moving his broken body onwards. "Filthy swamp is infecting the wounds I get... my resistance is wearing down... I'm getting sicker!!" He finished by screaming it to the swamp. "You're making me SICK! You're making me COLD! Happy now? Oh yes--"
And he chuckled with a darkness that would have scared an onlooker. "--I'm sure you're very happy." He sank down with his back to a tree trunk and closed his eyes. So, so tired. He hadn't slept in a very long time, and he needed to.
That rumbling, eerie whisper shook him to the joints of his bones.
"NO REST" it breathed.
A fiery rain beat down on him, and Arcane shrieked as it burned, jumping to his feet and trying to run again. The rain pelted him like acid as he covered his head pitifully, screaming, as he collapsed, unable to move, to talk, to think.
"I just wanted to sleep," he whimpered, curling his knees up to his chest. "That's not so wrong, is it? Please stop, please!" The rain only thundered down harder and Arcane tried to find cover, crawling blindly for the underbrush. The giant fronds and protective tree branches seemed to recoil from him.
Within the swamp, eyes were watching him.
He crawled with his eyes shut on his knees and elbows, tears welling up in his eyes; he wasn't going to beg, he wasn't going to beg, he had already begged the last time in the water and he wasn't going to beg again, he wasn't, he wasn't, he wasn't -- but the rain was burning him, it was burning him so badly. He sobbed. "Sleep, please, please." The swamp was pitiless. It did not listen. Arcane ran his hands through his hair and tried to hide but he couldn't hide. The storm continued to send fiery agony writhing through his body. He whimpered over and over and over. "I'm sorry I slept -- tried to sleep! I'm sorry, please believe me, please don't punish me anymore, I was just tired, so very tired, please don't punish me like this..." The liquid fire got in his eyes and he howled. "...Mercy! Mercy! ...have mercy... be merciful... have mercy... have pity on me... please, for God's sakes, have pity on me, I'll be good, I won't sleep anymore, I promise..." He tried to crawl away. There was nowhere to crawl. The rain was pouring down everywhere. He was trapped in a hurricane of acid. "I won't sleep!!!" came a tiny little cry as tried desperately to shield his body from the rain. "I won't sleep, so will you please stop hurting me? It burns, it burns, it hurts..." Arcane was in tears. "It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, *burning*, tired, please..."
Lightning crashed.
Arcane tucked his head in his shoulders and curled up into a very tiny ball as he screamed.

Tressa tapped her foot impatiently upon the soggy ground. "Hello?" she finally asked.
Arcane was curled over, his head tucked in and his knees drawn up under his stomach, as if trying to shield as much of himself as he could from that awful, burning rain. Tressa stirred him a little with the toe of her shoe. Arcane didn't look up at all, kept himself curled up in the same position.
“Sleep, Tressa. Sleep?"
"No." She looked like the incarnate of contemptuous. "Not for you, anyway."
Arcane crawled away a little bit. "Please, don't hurt me." He began to tremble. "Please?"
Tressa put her hands on her hips and smiled secretively, as if she were a cat. "I probably won't have to, at this rate." She looked up at the sky. "Hmm. It looks like rain."
Arcane was in tears. "...please... n-no... No more rain... p-please..." He shook a little, covering his head with his hands and curling even more inward. "Please no more rain please beg of you hurts."
Tressa walked around him in a circle, shaking her head. "For someone that's a self-proclaimed genius, you don't speak with a lot of coherency, Arcane."
"Tressa?"
She looked down at him. "What?"
Arcane's voice was too, too quiet. "Tressa, I can't see. The rain got in my eyes... I'm going blind..." His voice lowered another decibel. "Would you hit a blind man?"
Tressa had to think about it for a moment. She put a finger to her lips thoughtfully before replying. "If it was you... yes." The rain began to fall again. Arcane screamed a tiny scream before trying to crawl away. She looked down at him with narrowed eyes.
"I wouldn't waste your energy, Arcane. It's just going to rain har-- Oh!" The downpour began afresh. "Well, wouldja look at that!"
Arcane screamed a pitiful, strangled scream once more. "MERCY!"
"No, Arcane."
"MERCY MERCY MERCY MERCY MERCY MERCY..." He covered his face with his hands, his abused body shaking with sobs. "Oh God... Oh my God... Oh God..."
Tressa shook her head disgustedly. "You're pathetic. Just pathetic."
"I can't see!" The doctor continued his hysterical sobbing. "Oh God, I can't see you..." Tressa wavered in and out as the rain drove harder once more, vindictively, hungry.
"You're not going to get out of here unless you move it," her voice echoed with a cruel tone. He tried to crawl, the rain beating back his fevered, weakened form like flames. "You've got to try harder than that," she added nastily. He couldn't do it. He couldn't do it, and he would never get out of here. On his belly, he crawled, frantically, tearfully, whimpering silently in agony. Nothing listened.
“You’re worse than pathetic, Arcane. You’re a lost cause.” Tressa’s voice goaded from somewhere in front of him. He tried lifting himself onto his hands and knees, but white hot agony seared through his arms, making him collapse back down to his belly.
“My, that WAS an impressive attempt, wasn’t it?” That callous, mocking tone teased him in the darkness. Blindly, he groped ahead of him, crawling, trying to follow the sound of that voice. “Arcane, I can assure you that I’ve got better things to do than stand around here waiting for you to find your way out.” A fist came out of nowhere, hitting him upside the head. He groaned, collapsing back down into the acid filled mud. “Oh darn! Now you’ve gone and made me chip a nail! Remind me to thank you properly for that later, assuming you do find your way out, that is.”
Arcane had had enough. He lay still. Let the rain take him. Let him sink into peaceful oblivion, if only for a short time.
“ARCANE! Are you even listening to me?” Tressa’s voice snapped. “This place has had it’s fair share of you for now. It’s my turn again! I’VE not finished with you yet!”
Arcane managed to lift his head, forcing a vindictive smile despite the agony. “Temper, temper, Mrs. Kipp. Get used to failure.” He said through gritted teeth. Such small solace, but my, that felt GOOD. He only wished he was able to see the look on that dreadful woman’s face. All he could do was imagine it, but imagination had never been a problem for him, had it?”
“Arcane?” Her voice purred, a slight laughing tone to it. It wiped the smile from his face immediately. He felt her breath as she hunkered down close to him. “Do you know some of the other things this place has planned for you? The real torments...not just these little teasers?” He felt her breath in his ear as she whispered into it.
His eyes widened, and a wave of new horror shook him from the complacency born of futility, pain and weariness. “And you do know that if you stay much longer, The Swamp is going to keep you forever and ever...” She whispered softly. “Well, much as I’d love to stay and chat, I’ve got things to attend to. If you don’t manage to get out, do send my regards to everybody.”
He heard the splashing of footsteps receding into the distance ahead of him.
“Tressa!” He gasped. No reply. “Help me! You can’t leave me here!” He tried again, moaning softly. Still no reply. She’d gone.
Without using his hands, he rolled over onto his back, then forced himself to sit up, gasping with the exertion. Taking a few deep breaths, and with a sharp cry, he forced himself up and onto his feet. With another cry of pain he pushed himself onwards, following the direction of the sound Tressa’s footsteps had made.
“ARCANE” Came that whisper again, more eager, more desiring. Blind and terrified beyond measure, he quickened his pace. Each footstep sent pain shooting through his body. The acid was beginning to eat through the soles of his feet.
The toxic, acid winds blistered him, searing his throat as he breathed and tasted them; poisoning and burning him.
By now he was staggering almost like a zombie. He was such a mass of agony he could no longer feel individual parts of him. He could see nothing; hear nothing. Instinctive fear just drove him onwards; until one internal voice stopped everything, overriding any other concern. *Rest* It said, and nothing he could do would stop this, as he finally collapsed to the ground.
He was unaware that his body landed hard, on slabs of unforgiving pavement... the soft and cruel earth of The Swamp left far behind.


"Hey."
Graham spun around and was shocked to see a mirror image of himself staring right back at him. "H-hi," he stammered, too confused for this minute in time to do anything but hammer out the niceties. He regained a sullen composure quickly. "What do you want?"
"I suppose you're wondering where the good doctor is," his double remarked with a studiedly languid pose and some bitterness, his eyes flicking back up to check for a reaction.
He got one immediately. "Where is he? What'd you do to him?"
"I think Tressa's talking to him now. I can lead you over there in a few minutes."
Graham looked around suspiciously. "You're on a first name basis with her now, I see?"
"I don't see why not." He grinned maliciously. "We're all after the same thing, after all." His eyes searched expectantly for some response, but his counterpart only sighed.
"Just... take me to him. Soon."
The Graham from Hell chuckled. "What are you going to do to him? We've been waiting a long time for this kind of thing, you know; both of us."
Graham closed his eyes tightly, his fists clenching. "Don't say 'we'."
His double snarled. "I'm not gonna play 'Good Twin/Bad Twin' with you. We're a lot more similar than you're giving the both of us credit for." He moved in closer to Graham, his voice lowering into a whisper. "Answer me why. You don't need to take all that from him every day, day in, day out. That's not what you're getting paid for."
"I'm not like you."
"Really?" Something seemed to boil over in this other Graham and he clenched his fists, gritting his teeth. "The only reason we have to do this down here is because all of you didn't give him what he deserved in the first place!!!" His voiced lowered. "Otherwise, we wouldn't even be *needed*. Get off your high horse and wake up."
"What he *deserves*!" Graham insisted. "This all went past that a long time ago."
"I don't think it ever did, ever will." He gave a smile that was a halfway cross between a grin and a sneer. All his teeth showed. "You wanted things from him. You wanted to hurt him. I made him pay *for* you."
Graham fought the shaking in his voice. "What did you do to him?"
"Just kicked him around a little bit," the darkling image drawled. "Hit him. Mind games. Other things."
Graham restrained himself from socking him. He was fairly trembling with anger and dread. "What 'other things'?"
The double chuckled a lecherous chuckle, drawing closer and whispering excitedly into Graham's ear. Graham's eyes widened as he felt increasingly sick. "Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod..." He shoved his double away. "You couldn't... you w-wouldn't..."
"I did."
A fist struck him squarely in the nose.
Graham shook with anger, his bloodied fist clenched with the other at his side. "You... you sick... sick... twisted..." He backhanded him with a ferocity that didn't match him. "He TRUSTED ME!!! He'll never recover from that!!!" Graham's eyes were wild with rage.
The other Graham chuckled weakly. "Don't worry... He was only semi-conscious for most of it." He chuckled some more, still grinning. "It was the first I saw of him here. He doesn't remember a thing; thinks he only blacked out."
"Thank God," Graham breathed with his eyes closed, still overcome with horror.
"HEY! We don't say that name here."
"Sorry."
The other Graham shook his head. "Don't look so shocked. You wanted it. You know you wanted to do that for the longest time."
Graham snarled and pushed his way past him. "Don't look at me." He jogged towards the room where Arcane supposedly was, trying to force down the churning in his stomach. *Oh God, I'm sorry,* his mind murmured over and over. *God I'm sorry, oh God I'm so sorry...* But it was too late for apologies. The damage had already been done... Tears choked up in his leaden chest but he managed to shake himself free of it for a minute. He slammed the door open.
The room was completely empty. Graham's eyes widened in panic. "Where is he?!"
His doubled peeked his head in. "Damn! Must have escaped." He grinned at Graham. "But we'll find him sooner or later. I guess you'll just have to wait."
Trembling with his eyes closed, Graham proceeded to do just that.


The lone figure limped, the sulphuric, toxic winds tousling his hair as each cracking, throbbing step hit the hot pavement.
Blind, he leaned against a hard, cooler surface, caressing the door, for that was what it was, gently with fractured fingers, softly tracing the worn outline of the red cross. He couldn't bear to raise his arms any longer and instead just let his whole body lean against the door, touching the blessed coolness with his hot, dripping forehead, as he let his whole body sidle up against the structure like a cat. "Hospital," he murmured, tacitly clawing to get in. His breath rasped. His words were no more than delirious mumblings. "...hospital..."
Cool hands tapped his shoulder, like whispers of torn silk. He stumbled away, flinching, but the voice attached to the hands was soothing, beguiling.
"Come," the voice said quietly. "Shh. I won't hurt you." The cool hand took his. His feet followed. He shivered, the gritty air pricking his eyes and causing them to tear.
"...hospital... ...please..."
"Yes. Hush. Come with me."
He had no choice but to follow. His mind, burning and delirious from the worsening sickness and fever, spun dizzily and cried out plaintively with the wish to curl up and hibernate. Somehow, though, he forced himself to walk and follow this stranger, whoever it was, until he collapsed with pain and exhaustion.
The androgynous-formed figure loomed over him, it's slight, dark form blocking out the burning sun, or what passed for a sun, that burned itself white in the orange, smoggy sky like an eyesore. "You must get up," the shadow entreated. Its eyebrows knitted in concern as it watched Arcane flinch inside himself and cower. He was afraid. Why? The shadow's guess was understated. The doctor was terrified. He couldn't get up! He couldn't move at all; it hurt too much to move, his whole body hurt an awful lot. He was too weak from loss of blood and exhaustion to walk any more. But if he didn't move, this new creature would probably hurt him. Everyone hurt him here.
"Rest," he tried plaintively, trying to communicate for it to let him rest a little before it hurt him again, because it had been so recent since he had been punished last and his wounds were terribly raw. *Poor thing,* mused the creature. He was probably exhausted. But if he rested here, the roving patrols of maligned beings here would take him into their custody, and once that happened, there would be no helping him. "It's only a little farther," assured the shadow. "I promise, it won't be long. You can rest all you want once we get there, but you must get up now. You have to."
Lying on his back, his trembling increasing, Arcane was a pitiful sight. He stared up at it with pleading eyes, but resigned himself not to beg. They liked it when he begged here, liked to make him cry. He didn't want to do anything that they wanted. Besides, it was too much trouble to talk anyway; his throat felt like sandpaper. More shadows fell upon him, and the first stranger spun around to greet the three new ones. Tressa Kipp smiled warmly, peeking over the shadow's shoulder.
"Well, look what we've found!" She crouched down on the ground by the doctor and spoke to him as one might speak to a child. "You escaped, Arcane. You know that was a naughty thing to do. Now we have to punish you. I think it's time for another beating, all right?" Arcane's eyes grew larger. Tressa's face slipped back into its menacing mask. "Now get up." At the lack of response, she started to seethe. "Get up, Arcane. Or else we can make it even worse for you." She motioned to her beefy friends.
"Can't move!" Arcane cried and the shadow that had guided him resisted the urge to put its head in it's hands as it realised it's mistake. No *wonder* he had been so afraid.
"Of *course* you can," Tressa soothed sweetly as his victims punished him for his misdemeanour.
"I can't," Arcane sobbed, feeling himself get kicked in the head, "I can't!" He closed his eyes, shuddering. "No, don't hurt me!!" He was trembling again, shaking violently on the ground, as his assailants stopped for a moment.
"No."
Tressa turned to the shadow-figure, seeming surprised, as if she hadn't noticed the creature there before, or at least hadn't been expecting it to speak.
"What?"
"He's under my jurisdiction here; I found him first."
Tressa was being polite today. "Yes, but as the plaintiffs, we have right of way with the offender. You know that."
"I was taking him to sanctuary." The voice was calm. "It isn't as if you won't see him again."
Tressa mulled for a minute, sighed, and then conceded, grudgingly so. She motioned for the victims, and they walked off into the distance. The shadow leaned over its charge concernedly. "Hello? Are you conscious?" Arcane's eyes were shut tight and he had managed to curl himself into a little ball.
"Not another beating. Please not another beating. I can't take it. Please don't hit me again."
"I'm not going to hurt you. If you can get up, you must try." As that started a whole renewed wave of trembling and pleading, the creature added hastily, "I won't hurt you if you *don't* get up, but I want to be able to help you, and I can't do that here. You won't have to walk on your own. I will help you." The shadow held you its hands and gestured for Arcane to take them.
"My arms are broken," Arcane whispered quietly. In response, the creature helped him up slowly, letting him lean on itself as they walked.

Arcane didn't remember the trip or arriving at wherever he was now. All he was aware of was the agony that was clawing its way up his chest.
"Help," he moaned, as the creature sitting a few feet away from him felt extremely sad. Quinine coupled with its own healing touch had broken his fever, but that still wasn't enough. Arcane didn't understand. He looked over at the creature desperately before closing his eyes against the hot lances of pain in his chest. "Excruciating," he gritted out. "Hurts."
"I can try again in a few hours," the creature said quietly, with sadness. "I'm drained right now. I've done all I can." He doubled over and breathed in sharply in a series of tiny breaths.
"Shhh. Try to think about something else. Try to rest."
Arcane fell over on his side and whimpered for a few minutes. A lot less time went by for him than it felt like.
"Please," he whispered. "They tortured me. They beat me."
"I know."
He began to cry. "At least knock me out, would you? At least let me lose consciousness."
"I can't."
"AUGH!" Arcane closed his eyes, the pain flowering throughout his chest cavity and spine. He collapsed backwards and screamed in agony.
"Shhhhhh," whispered the voice as gentle hands held him. "Shhh, try not to think about it, think about someplace far away..." The shadow brushed an errant strand of hair away from his face and stroked his forehead softly. "Shhhh..." His screams quieted and he curled into its touch, clinging to the shadow like a child before finally falling asleep. The shadow stroked his hair as nightmares clutched him and then passed, his breathing finally going even, holding him as he moved into a deep, peaceful sleep.


Arcane opened his eyes that morning(or whatever it was) and squinted at the little person sitting cross-legged across from him on the floor of the dark little cell.
"What are you?" The creature --he?-- was human in appearance, garbed in black, with a flat, male-type chest and thin shoulders. However, the face was rather effeminate, the face half painted white and half painted black, like a stylish Mardi-Gras mask, with pouting lips and long, dark lashes. She, he had decided now, looking down at the legs, it must be, because she was wearing black tights that left nothing to the imagination. A child? Whatever this small saviour was, it was... beautiful. Not as an object of desire, but like a strange and mysterious piece of art. He squinted. "Male or female?"
The shadowy creature smiled shyly. "Both and neither."
Arcane let that sink in for a minute. "Well, I suppose I should be a gentleman and thank you." He sat up slowly. "What do they call you?"
"Fete."
Arcane mused. " 'Celebration'. Of what, pray tell?"
Fete smiled again. "Of myself."
"Parlez-vous francais?"
"Oui -- je parle tout les langues -- porquoi j'ai besoin tout les langues."
Arcane smiled. "Impressive." He wasn't in pain any longer -- Fete had healed him up a bit more during the night and he hadn't noticed yet. He lay on his stomach, taking in the small quarters of the cell. "What heinous crime did you commit to be sent down here?"
"I came here of my own choice."
Arcane sat back at that in shock, getting up and rocking back on his heels, almost choking.
"How *could* you possibly wish to stay here by choice?" And then something occurred to him. "But then, they're not after *you*, are they?" he realised bitterly.
"I suffer in my own way, thank you," Fete said quietly.
"How?" Arcane goaded, unwilling to let it drop.
Its voice was even quieter. "By watching the rest of you suffer."
Arcane leaned back, contempt thick in his voice. "How very compassionate of you." After a few moments, he realised that if he didn't say anything, the conversation would die here. "Why *do* you stay here?"
Its voice was even as it explained. "There was need for a balance here. I volunteered to provide that balance."
There was a hell of a lot more to it's story than that and Arcane knew it, but he wasn't focusing on that much right now. He wiggled the fingers on his left hand, flexed his arms.
"Thank you," he said quietly. His actual thoughts were far less appreciative-- it was about time someone had achieved a little bit of humanity around here -- but it was always a good precaution here, he had learned, to be overly polite.
"You are welcome, but it isn't necessary. This is my purpose."
Arcane nodded again before lying back down and closing his eyes in slumber.
"Is it safe here?" he murmured.
"Yes. It is safe here."
"Is that a promise?"
"Yes."


Alec looked around. He'd followed Tressa, but she seemed to have disappeared. This was unfortunate. He needed time with her alone; time to sort something out. Just what he was going to sort out he hadn't the faintest idea. There had to be some way. Why else would the swamp have had him continue with this? Maybe it wasn't Arcane at all that was the reason he was here? Perhaps The Swamp needed to show him how to confront his mistakes and live with them, and that Arcane himself was just the means to an end? Maybe there was an answer here that would still this feeling within him and release him from the guilt? It seemed likely. He couldn't think of a possible salvation for Arcane if these echoes didn't release him... and that didn't seem likely. He would try though; that he was certain of. He WOULD give it his best. Would he have done what he did if he'd known then what he knew now? He thought about it, but couldn't answer. He'd hoped for a speedy 'no', but it wasn't forthcoming. He wouldn't normally have killed Arcane in cold blood like he had done, but he clearly was capable of doing just that, wasn't he? That was painfully obvious. Rage overcame him then, and even had he known the consequences; in that culmination of all the years of abuse... in that one single moment of rage where nothing else mattered, he seriously doubted that he'd give concern for Arcane a second, or even a first thought if the emotions he felt then were repeated.
But what to do about it? That was the question of the day, wasn't it? He'd talked it over in his head enough times. He'd accepted what he'd done. He'd admitted he was flawed; that he'd made a mistake... that he'd done something wrong. He could say it without trying to hide it. There was no confusion now. It wasn't really guilt anymore. So if he was here, how could it be for his benefit if he couldn't actually do anything practical? There must be some answer? Something eluding him.
"Oh dear, more angst, Alec?" Came a saccharinely sweet, false voice behind him, making him start;
"Tressa!" He turned to face her. She beamed at him.
"You know, if you ever do end up in a place like this... unlikely, I know... but if you do; there really wouldn't be a need for anybody like me. You'd do the most wonderful job of it quite by yourself."
"We need to talk." He said calmly. "I don't want an argument; but things have to be sorted out."
"Things ARE sorted out. Oh, Alec; you're just no fun at all. Always making such an issue of everything. You really ought to learn to relax."
"Can we talk without the comments? I want a serious discussion with you."
"Yeah, well I don't! You're not saying anything I want to hear, Alec. Save it. I'm not interested."
"How long will it go on for?" He asked her bluntly.
"Until we feel like stopping." Came the even blunter reply.
"How long?" He pressed. She gave a sigh.
"A LONG time. Maybe not forever, but as near as makes any difference... maybe. Maybe we'll get bored early. Who knows? Who cares?"
"*I* care!" Alec emphasised. Tressa clapped her hands together slowly.
"How touching. How commendable. He doesn't deserve your consideration you know? He's still just the same. He'll never change, not that we're really interested even if he does, which he won't. He's sorry, certainly, but only for himself. You know that as well as any of us."
"Very likely, but it doesn't change my feelings."
"You're too soft for your own good, Alec. Maybe if you'd thought twice before slipping that one time you wouldn't have to be doing all this? But you did, and that makes him ours... not yours."
"It was my mistake, and a mistake I intend to rectify."
"You can't. It's done. If you'd thought sooner, much sooner, you could have taken him back; but that can't happen now, can it?"
"I don't want to bring him back..."
"Well that's a relief. At least you're not THAT stupid!"
"...What I want is for you to let him go on to an afterlife without the torture."
"Dream on, Alec. There's more chance of you winning the next 30,000 Louisiana state lotteries in a row! The only thing after the torture for him, is oblivion." Alec thought hard.
"Then give that oblivion now. End it for him." He said firmly, closing his eyes as he said it. It wasn't what he wanted, but if there was nothing else...
"Won't THAT give you so much future angst? How do you even know he'd want that?" Tressa laughed. "Gotta admit, it has a certain poetic feel. Putting it out of it's misery like a wretched animal... Yes, I do like it... Yeah, sure... but not for aeons and aeons yet." She grinned broadly.
"How can you be so pitiless... How can ANYONE be so pitiless?"
"Guess we just had a good teacher, Alec. Someone brought out the best in us... or the worst?" Alec was silent. "Just think back for a moment, Alec. Think back to what you're really trying to protect. I honestly don't know why you're bothering."
"I have thought. I still want it to end. Stop the torture."
"Make us!" She challenged lightly.
"I'm not playing your games. It has to end."
"Nope."
"I mean it, don't make me..."
"Make you what? What can you do? There's no place for him to hide; you can't protect him; can't take him anywhere, you can't... well, you just can't, can you? All you can do is talk to us and hope we'll fall in with what you want. Get your own way, just like you do on Earth. Well this isn't Earth, Alec. It's his Hell. It isn't going to happen! Just what part of 'No' don't you understand, Alec!?"
"I'm asking you, begging if necessary, for the last time."
"I can't tell you what a relief that is!" She mocked. "I was seriously thinking of disembowelling myself rather than having to listening to your sentimental drivel any further!" She laughed cruelly. Alec sighed. He was even further away from a solution than ever!
"If it's any consolation to you, Alec, he's safe at the moment." She purred. Alec's eyes widened. "There is one little sanctuary in each Hell... and he's found it. Lucky old Anton!" Her face turned cruel again. "But not for long. We're working on it; and once he's out of there, it's lost forever to him. Several hours without any torment at all. Tsk tsk! We're really going to have to make up for that, you know!" She laughed evilly.
"Where is he?" Alec asked sharply.
"Does it matter?"
"Where is he?"
"He won't be there for long... trust me!"
"WHERE IS HE?"
"Find him yourself... but I wouldn't even bother trying. Very shortly, all you'll have to do is wait here for him. Then we get to play again. We all get to play." She purred again. Alec clenched his fist in fury.
"Ooh, temper, temper." She said excitedly, seeing it. "That delicious rage is what started all this in the first place, isn't it?" She patronised. "Don't fight it! Are you going to hit me too? Oh, I do love it when you're angry, Alec!"
He put his fist down, the rage cooling into contempt and disgust; before he turned on his heel and stormed out.


The shadow sat in its rigid way, Indian-style, musing deep in thought. That its charge could talk at all amazed it. That it could talk about things so shallow and engage in smalltalk left it stunned. Either this doctor's will was stronger than Fete had originally supposed, or they had decided to go easy on him for now. Fete supposed that it was most likely the latter choice; most of the shades here didn't feel like expending too much vengeful energy on the offender's first couple of days. And speaking of the devil... It looked around. Where was he? Fete resigned itself to keep a closer eye on this one; it could sense the capacity for trouble with no problem whatsoever. It moved into the next room with the silence of a black cat, eyes gleaming brightly as it scanned the darkness. Its eyebrows raised a little and it moved forward with stealth, whispering out to the figure leaning slumped against the wall.
"Um, hello?" There was no response at all. The shadow tilted its head a little curiously. "Arcane?" Fete tried tentatively.
Arcane flinched at the sound of his own name. Fete winced. It tried to shy away from actually using the names of its charges; most of them were so used to hearing their names screamed or snarled; it was detrimental. But "hey you" probably was just as bad, and wasn't going to cut it. "Were you sleeping?" it asked very very gently.
Arcane nodded, regarding the being with a narrowed gaze of total suspicion. Fete nodded; it should have known. He had seemed more peaceful; when he slept, it was the only time his shoulders ever relaxed from their perpetually hunched position.
Memories shot Arcane like lasers. He swallowed and fidgeted, not quite meeting the creature's gaze. When it stepped forward the tiniest bit, he flinched again.
"What's wrong?" asked the shadow, extending a hand tentatively and half-way, not sure whether to offer comfort or draw it straight back.
"I'm sorry!" Arcane blurted out, flattening himself against the wall he was slumped on to avoid the Fete's touch. The little shadow's eyes widened.
"Sorry for what? What is wrong?"
Arcane hung his head. "I'm sorry I slept. I didn't mean to. You, you told me I could rest." He looked like he was going to bolt any second now. “I won't do it again, I swear to you."
"It's all right," the creature assured, feeling a knife twist in its gut. "Sleep is permitted here. You needn't be afraid. Arcane closed his eyes in relief, swallowing the saliva that had collected and grown sour with terror in the back of his throat. His body relaxed the slightest little bit. "I'm sorry that I upset you," Fete apologised. "I was not sure if you were hurt or merely sleeping."
Arcane nodded, his eyes still closed. He had learned to sleep on his feet in the camp. It was the only way to get rest -- lean against the wall when no one was looking. When he got caught, it was horrible -- but it assured he got caught less.
Fete sat down. Arcane followed suit. "I'm a little impressed," the creature said shyly. "It is amazing that you can still talk. Many go silent very quickly."
Arcane didn't want to answer that. He didn't want to talk about how good it felt, how refreshing it was, to be able to talk without being antagonised, yelled at, humiliated; to be able to just natter on about nothing really important. Instead, he changed the subject to something that was bothering him.
"I heard footsteps last night."
It really hadn't been night, but close enough. Fete looked sad. It paused a minute before speaking. There was a tiny little sigh. "You cannot stay here forever. There are..." Another sigh. "...rules. They are waiting for you."
Arcane's eyes widened a little. "What's to happen to me?"
Fete didn't want to be telling him this. It wanted him to be able to recover a little, to spend a few precious minutes without cowering in fear. But Arcane was too full of dread to be dissuaded. "Tell me, then! You know! What?!"
The little creature sighed again and looked down into its lap. "There were rumours... that they want to send you to a camp."
Arcane eyes went unbelievably wide and he bit his knuckle in anguish.
"Again?"
Fete's brain was shocked back to the other end of its skull by that.
"AGAIN?" By the Balance... its guess had been more wrong than it realised, terribly terribly wrong. If they had sent him to the camp already... they had most certainly not gone easy on him. "Oh Fates, I'm sorry," it whispered as Arcane doubled over and rocked in his inward-turned ball. His face was almost as pale as the side of its own. Fete moved over and held him gently.
"I don't want to go," Arcane mumbled, mind gone and eyes in space. "I don't want to go back. I don't want to. I don't want to go. You musn't let me go. I don't want to go."
"You don't have to," the shadow soothed as Arcane kept staring out into the lonely nothingness of the soul. "As long as you don't leave the sanctuary willingly, they can't take you; they cannot take you for a while."
Arcane just shook his head. "Don't want to go. Don't want to."
"I know. I know. Shhh."


It took what seemed like almost an hour for Arcane to come remotely back to any semblance of stillness. He'd repeated that phrase of denial like a mantra for nearly half of that; the rest of the time merely involved his curling up into a tight ball and shuddering involuntarily.
Fete looked on, putting it's arm around him gently, stroking his hair and reassuring him with soft, soothing words, despite having the feeling that Arcane couldn't even hear of feel anything but his own introverted terror. Each shudder; each terror stricken word cut through the little creature's soul. It might just as well be suffering for it's charge.
Eventually, the words became less panicked... slower; the shuddering easing off. Fete felt him begin to slump in it's arms, tiredness again overwhelming fear. Gently, it lowered him to the ground where he could sleep properly.
He was unconscious now, and Fete resumed it's cross-legged position, regarding him curiously. Part of it wanted to know just what they'd done to him to make him this way; part of it knew that to do that would be to experience his experiences. It had to though. How could it help if it didn't know how to? It was rare it saw terror like this in so short a time. It happened, yes, but so very, very rarely. What had this Arcane done to create a backlash of such magnitude!? Fete knew it could find out. All it had to do was reach out and feel. No! The past was not it's concern. It was not it's place or role to know or be judgmental. *Relieve the suffering. That is all. There is nothing else. Now reach out and learn. Know his experiences here. Suffer them yourself* A small hand reached out, gently touching the back of Arcane's head, careful not to move an inch; not to make the slightest reaction that could wake this man.
It learned. It felt every agony, every fear, every sensation, every horror; with only a solitary tear being the slightest movement it gave. For nearly three hours it learned, what seemed like 18 years of horror condensed into three eternal hours. Such was it's role in this place. Such was it's duty.
It withdrew it's hand and regarded Arcane again. *He should not have been able to speak* was the only thought that recurred for now. This Arcane was an enigma. Reduced to hysteria so easily; yet such astonishing powers of recuperation in what would normally be inadequate periods of time. And how to help him? He was not like any other charge it had ever known.
*Know the man.* It's voice echoed again. *No. Such is not my role. It is not for me to know this* But how else to help him? There had to be a way to get through the fear. Maybe time would help... but he did not have enough of that. He needed immediate assistance. *And for that you must know him* Fete knew it had no choice. It had never done this before... *Once,* it’s mind whispered, and pushed the thought away immediately. *I have sworn not to...* But there really was no choice. *Just a cursory look; the briefest of glances. It is not necessary to see everything. Just enough to understand one part of him by which I can reach out to him. Find out what will bring him solace; what will ease the pain and give normality back; if only for a while. Just a small part of his mind, his life... only the tiniest fraction*
It reached out again, this time with both hands, still careful not to disturb Arcane; and learned.

 

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