Silence

Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. I wish they did - oh, how I wish they did...

'Are they ever going to be finished?' Arcane rubbed at his temples with both hands, and Graham winced in sympathy. Even here, in the Doctor's underground lab, the noise of reconstruction was incessant and relentless.
     It has been Sunderland's last act of revenge. Knowing he was dying, his liver mangled beyond repair when Arcane had used the prototype laser pistol to melt the steel plates in his spine, the General had hit the self-destruct button. It had led to the death of hundreds of his workers and the destruction of half the complex. It had failed to take out Arcane, but Sunderland would have been maliciously happy to know that it had killed Tatania...
     Arcane had, naturally, taken over, managing to retrieve the details of the current clients from the database and convincing them that he was more than capable of delivering their weapons systems by the agreed dates. Which meant rebuilding the complex very, very quickly. Which meant the reconstruction crews had to work 24/7 to complete the work. It also meant that Arcane had to work to almost the same agenda to fulfil the contracts...
     Graham did what he could to make sure the Doctor ate regularly and took at least a few hours sleep every night, grateful that the pressure kept him from brooding over the loss of Tatania and the Kitty Lane obscenity while at the same time worrying himself sick that the punishing schedule was going to make Arcane ill again.
     When this was all over he was going to insist the Doctor take a vacation. But in the meantime...
     'Is there anything I can do to help, sir?'
     'Get me some more coffee. And ask them how long they're going to be.'

Arcane was bent over a microscope, one hand adjusting the optics, scribbling notes with the other, when Graham returned with two coffees. He glanced up briefly before returning his attention to the instrument.
     'What kept you?'
     'Sorry sir. Had to brew fresh.'
     'And what do our noisy, uncouth friends upstairs have to say for themselves?'
     'It's gonna be another week.'
     Arcane pushed himself upright, one hand on the bench, the other on his hip, glowering towards the elevator.
     'Damn.'
     'I know, sir. I did ask them if they could speed it up, but they said they're working flat out as it is.' He paused. 'Don't suppose you could take the week off?'
     'Oh yes, of course I can just bugger off for a week in some sunny spot... You really are keen to parade your stupidity, aren't you?' He leaned forward, speaking slowly as though to a child. 'Graham, if I don't get these projects finished, not only do I not get paid, but my reputation will be tarnished.'
      And we certainly don't want that! Graham nodded, ignoring the insult. It was, after all, just Arcane being his usual stressed self. 'D'you think you can do it?'
     'Of course. The electro-magnetic pulse rifle design just needs a few more adjustments and it can go into production. My synthetic skin formula is almost complete, as is the anti-rejection drug. This little devil' He gestured down at the microscope 'will give up its secrets with a few more hours' work, then I'll have the process of polyclonal antibody creation to add to my arsenal of bio-reagents.' He grinned, slightly manically. 'By the end of the week I'll have fulfilled all the current contracts – then I'll take a holiday.'
     'Good, sir. You look tired.'
     Arcane raised an eyebrow.
     'How very observant of you, Graham.'
     'Sorry, sir.'
     'Don't you have work to do?'
     'Yes sir. I'll get back to it...'
     'Good show.' Arcane leant back to his study of the specimen under the microscope, and Graham, sighing silently, made his way to his own lab.

It was a good few hours later when Graham finally noticed the time, pulled himself upright, unkinked his back and wondered what to make the Doctor for dinner. Fish, perhaps? Something British? Maybe the kitchens had some lamb...
     He yawned and headed across the complex, grateful that the kitchens were one of the first areas to be rebuilt – after the labs and testing zones, of course. The staff there were now used to him turning up with a gourmet cookbook tucked under his arm to raid the supplies, and if he heard them muttering about his presumed relationship with his boss – he'd heard the words 'wife' and 'bitch' at one point – he simply ignored them.
     At eleven p.m. the building was mostly deserted, except for a few assistants getting things ready for the following day. A quick exploration of the fridges revealed a distinct lack of lamb – but there were some plump chicken fillets and a small container of imported French truffles. That would do nicely.
     Reaching for a sharp cook's knife, he set about making truffle-stuffed chicken breast.
     He hadn't noticed the two figures lurking silently in the shadows outside the entrance to Arcane's personal accommodation and lab...

Arcane had also lost track of time, but that wasn't unusual for him. He'd finally cracked the code for the new reagent, and was confident he could have it in production in three days at most. Rubbing a hand over tired eyes he'd sat back with a satisfied sigh – then frowned as his stomach grumbled. Glancing at his watch he growled: dammit, he hadn't eaten since six that morning, no wonder he was hungry!
     ... Where was Graham? Normally the little twit would have been pestering him to eat something hours ago...
     He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of the elevator descending. That was probably the idiot now, hopefully bearing food. He debated for a moment whether to bawl him out for leaving it so late – then decided that actually, he was rather enjoying Graham's admittedly delicious culinary exploits, and it might be better not to discourage him. He folded his arms and assumed a put-upon expression as the lift hissed to a halt.
     'A little earlier next time, perhaps, Graham...' He ground to a halt as two rather large figures, neither of which was his assistant, exited the elevator. 'Who the hell are you?'
     'Who we are doesn't matter. You must be Arcane.'
     'That's Doctor Arcane...'
     The slightly smaller of the men leered.
     'Y'know, you're almost as pretty as we'd heard.'
     Arcane smiled frostily.
     'No doubt. You haven't answered my question. Who are you? And why have you invaded my property?'
     'Your property? We heard this was General Sunderland's place.'
     Arcane glowered at them, cursing himself for leaving his gun in the drawer at his desk on the other side of the lab.
     'Once, maybe. Now it is mine, and you are not welcome...'
     'Aww...' Big and ugly grinned at smaller and uglier. 'He thinks it's his. Isn't that cute?'
     Arcane stepped forwards, snarling. 'Now listen here...' He choked to a halt as a very large beefy hand shot out and grabbed him by the throat, the thug shoving him back against the wall hard enough to bruise. He brought his face close to the Doctor's, sneering.
     'No, sweetie. You'll listen to us. You're going to get an offer for this place in the next week. You'll accept it.'
     His hands wrapped uselessly around the brawny wrist holding him on tiptoe against the wall, Arcane struggled to draw breath as realisation struck.
     'Wood... rue...'
     The one holding him leered, mouth full of what looked like far too many teeth this close up, and glanced quickly at his colleague.
     'He catches on fast!'
     'Yeah...' Smaller and uglier moved closer, running lascivious eyes up and down the Doctor's lean body. 'He is pretty, y'know.'
     'Not my type. But if you wanna play...'
     It finally dawned on Arcane that perhaps he didn't have the upper hand here... He felt himself quailing as smaller and uglier reached out and gripped the edges of his shirt, ripping it open then trailing a calloused hand down smooth tanned skin.
     'Mm.... nice...'
     'You... bast...' Arcane managed to choke out before big and ugly hit him hard enough across the face to leave him reeling.
     'Mind your manners, you.' The thug moved slightly to allow his friend more access: smaller and uglier pressed himself up against Arcane's body, hands covering his chest as jagged nails pinched his nipples hard enough to break the skin. Arcane's eyes widened in horror as he felt a hardness that could only be the thug's erection pressing against his groin.
     'Mmmmmmm.... very pretty. He smells nice too.'
     Arcane tried to swallow past the hand at his throat, desperately trying to think of a way out of the situation... where the hell was Graham...?
     'You wanna fuck him?'
     '... been a long time since I had a high-class piece of ass like this...'
     They both looked around as the elevator jerked into life and ascended. Big and ugly growled.
     'Ah, fuckit. Company. Time to go.' He lowered Arcane to stand and loosened his grip. 'Saved by the bell, pretty boy. Just make sure you sell up. If we have to come back here you really aren't gonna like what we'll do next...'
     Slamming the Doctor back against the wall the pair hurried to the emergency stairs, and seconds later were gone. Arcane slid down the wall to the floor, gasping for breath, which is how Graham found him as he stepped out of the elevator, dinner in the insulated container in his hands and a smile on his face – a smile that faltered as he saw Arcane.
     'Sir? What... what happened?'
     Arcane slumped back against the wall, coughing as his hands went to his tortured throat.
     'Gra... ham...'
     Dropping to his knees at Arcane's side, Graham raked anxious eyes over the Doctor, noting the purpling bruises on his neck and face, the scratches on his chest... the blood trickling from those perfect... adorable... lickable... nipples...
     He mentally slapped himself hard and gripped Arcane's shoulders.
     'Who was it?'
     'Wood... Woodrue... yobs...'
     'Aw shit... You OK sir?'
     It was a measure of how distressed Arcane was that he didn't point out that no, of course he wasn't OK... Graham carefully eased an arm around the Doctor and slowly pulled him to his feet, holding him as he tried to regain his balance.
     'Let's get you upstairs.'
     'Yes...' Arcane was trembling with reaction, and Graham frowned to himself. What the fuck could have scared the Doctor so? The man was absolutely convinced of his own invulnerability: Graham had never known him – never even imagined him – reduced to this state...

Graham's arm still around him Arcane stumbled into his suite and seated himself on the edge of the bed, trembling, head sunk into his hands. At a loss as to what to do, Graham sat beside him, one hand on a shaking shoulder.
     'Sir?'
     Arcane gasped and swallowed what sounded suspiciously like a sob, then turned disbelieving eyes to Graham.
     'They... they threatened...'
     Graham glanced again at the torn shirt, the bruises and the dried blood and nodded grimly: it was all too obvious what they'd threatened. And while Arcane was generally fit and strong and could handle himself very well, he wasn't Superman. And he was still exhausted and not physically recovered from recent events... Graham growled silently in a sudden surge of protective fury.
     How DARE they threaten his Arcane!
     He swallowed his anger and slid a comforting arm across the Doctor's shoulders.
     'You want I should call Sheriff Andrews?'
     Arcane considered the suggestion. He paid Andrews enough for his protection, after all – but this was different. This was personal.
     'No. No, I think my own security will be sufficient.'
     'But Doctor, most of them were killed in the explosion.'
     Arcane raised an eyebrow.
     'Then get me some more. I think a thirty-man squad would be enough for the complex. I'll want three guarding the entrance to my quarters at all times.'
     'It's gonna take a while to recruit everyone and run the checks.'
     'Then you had better get started, hadn't you.' He glanced at the insulated container. 'What's that?'
     'Dinner, sir.'
     'Ah good.' Fear forgotten and mood fully restored at the thought of eating, Arcane pulled the box from the container and sniffed appreciatively. 'Truffles. And chicken. Very nice...' He lifted the lid, then glowered at Graham. 'Why are you still here?'
     'Sorry, Doctor.' Resigned, Graham rose to his feet and headed for the elevator. 'I'll get right onto recruitment.'
     'Good man.'
     'Enjoy your meal, sir.'
     'Oh I shall, Graham, I shall...'

Three days later the new security was all in place, and Graham was exhausted. He really would have to hire a PA or secretary or something to take care of these mundane matters, it was too much for him to try to handle this and look after the Doctor. Still, they should be safe now. The squad came highly recommended and were military trained.
He debated with himself whether to get down to the lab and let the Doctor know, or grab a shower and a nap. Strictly speaking he should report in – but he was tired, and felt grimy. And hungry. Arcane was racing to fulfil the contracts – completely immersed in his work, as usual – and probably wouldn't appreciate the interruption anyway. No, he'd take a couple of hours off, have something to eat, bathe and sleep. Then make something for the Doctor's dinner. Nodding to himself, he walked wearily to the kitchens on his way back to his own quarters.

It was dark when he woke. He dragged himself up, cursing when he saw his clock: he'd slept for five hours instead of the one he'd planned. Sure, he felt much better, but Arcane would be really hungry by now – when he realised the time, anyway. Dressing hurriedly Graham grabbed his cookbook and hurried to the kitchens. It would have to be something quick tonight.
     Half an hour later, a plate of oriental pancakes stuffed with duck in hoisin sauce and shredded lettuce in his insulated container, he made his way quickly to the lab, stepping out of the elevator into silence. Frowning, he glanced around, but nothing seemed to be out of place. Perhaps the Doctor had already retired to his own suite? Graham got back in to the elevator and hit the button for the top floor.
     'Doctor Arcane?' But Arcane's quarters were also silent. And dark. Graham called out 'lights', blinking as the wall-lights came on. The place was empty. And the silence was unnerving: the Doctor didn't like it, usually had music playing here. Graham quickly checked the bathroom to make sure he hadn't fainted from hunger or slipped and knocked himself out, but the room was cold and devoid of life.
     Where the hell was he?
     Anxious, Graham hit the intercom. One of the new guards answered – an ex-army sergeant called Scott, if he remembered correctly.
     'Put out a call for Doctor Arcane. He's not in his lab and I need to speak to him. Ask him to ring the lab.'
     'At once, sir.'
     Graham grinned to himself – no-one here had ever called him 'sir' before and he rather liked it. He took the elevator back down to the lab and waited for the Doctor to call.
     Half an hour later the lab intercom buzzed, and Graham leapt for it.
     'Doctor Arcane?'
     'No sir, it's Scott. Doctor Arcane hasn't answered the call. What do you want us to do?'
     Graham gave orders for a discreet search of the complex – after all, he may be worrying for nothing, Arcane may very well be at one of the other sections and so caught up in his work that he didn't hear the tannoy – then stood for a moment chewing his lip, wondering what else he could do. It would make most sense for him to just sit tight, but he felt he wanted to be doing something...
     He went back up to join the search.

Arcane struggled up to consciousness through thick black clouds of pain, moaning, the thudding in his head feeling like someone was driving a pickaxe into his brain. It overrode every other sensation for a few moments, then he slowly became aware that he was naked, lying on something hard, jagged and cold. The air was cold too, and he shivered and tried to wrap his arms around himself, only to find that his wrists had been manacled to a rocky wall by a long, heavy chain. Wincing, he peered around the area in the dim cold light, realising with sinking heart that he was in the old cave deep under the complex, the place he'd started out in so many years ago.
     The alcoves where he'd contained his 'glorious failures', the monstrosities that his genetic tampering had created, were empty now, spiderwebs strung across their entrances. An old rack lay in one corner: on several of the rough walls chains and fetters hung threateningly, dust and grime and old blood discolouring their once-bright metallic sheen.
     It was a dismal, evil place, and heavy with an appalling silence... Arcane swallowed fearfully and curled up as tightly as he could against the wall, already chilled. The sultry heat of Louisiana never had been able to penetrate this far underground.
     He tried to remember what had happened. He'd been in the final stages of creating that elusive reagent, blind and deaf to anything outside of the delicate operation he was performing. He remembered stowing the finished product safely away, then... He touched a hand to the back of his head: his fingers came away sticky with slowly-congealing blood. Someone had hit him hard enough to knock him out.
     It had to be connected with his 'visitors' of a few days ago – but why? He'd had no requests to sell yet, no communication from Woodrue. Then again, that pair hadn't exactly struck him as the sort who would stick to their orders if they thought they could get away with a little hanky-panky on the side... he shuddered, remembering the feel of those calloused hands on his body, and shied away from imagining what they might have done to him while he was unconscious...
     Very well. They'd brought him down here for a reason, obviously. He needed to get free – Graham knew about the cave, but it had been sealed up three years ago, he'd assume it was inaccessible and not even bother to check it. Which left Arcane with only one option: he'd have to try to talk his captors into freeing him. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.
     'All right. You've had your fun. Just tell me what you want and we can all go home happy.'
     Seconds dragged by without an answer. Arcane opened his eyes and glanced around the dimly-lit cave. Nothing moved, no-one answered.
     'Did you hear me? I said I want to hear your terms. Whatever Woodrue is offering you, I can triple it.'
     Silence. Arcane swallowed nervously. He couldn't stand silence. In silence he was forced to listen to things whispering deep within him, his mother's voice, gnawing away at his self-confidence, his belief in himself. He took a shuddering breath.
     'WHAT DO YOU WANT?!'
     Nobody answered. Shaking, Arcane curled up as tightly as he could, head resting on his knees, arms around his legs, shivering, hunger ignored as the silence and darkness overwhelmed him.

'I'm sorry, sir. There's no sign of him. Do you think he might have gone into the swamp?'
     'Doctor Arcane doesn't much like the swamp – but he has gone out there sometimes.'
     'Then I'll organise a search, sir.'
     'I'll come with you...'
     But Scott was shaking his head.
     'Sir, it might be better if you stay here, in case the Doctor returns. And – if you don't mind my being honest – my men are trained for this sort of thing, where you aren't. I'd rather you stayed safe.'
     Graham blinked, too surprised to argue, and watched as Scott rapidly organised several search parties. He watched them leave, then turned back to the complex, wondering what to do...
     For an hour he wandered aimlessly, worried and tense, trying and failing to convince himself that it really would be OK, that the Doctor had just got too wrapped up in his work. In an hour or so he'd reappear from wherever he'd been, tired and hungry, and he'd insult Graham then demand food... The pancakes would be cold by now...
     Graham halted with a small moan and sank into a crouch, hands pressed against his eyes. He'd never felt so helpless.

The cold had crept deeply into him, clawing at his body. He ached from shivering, body bruised from the roughness of the cave's floor, the pain in his head a low, persistent torture. He couldn't even tell what time – or day – it was: the bastards had taken his watch. And the silence... the silence was unbearable. He rocked backwards and forwards minutely, unaware of the tears trickling down his face...

The search parties returned mid-morning, grim-faced and empty-handed. Frantic, Graham clutched at Scott's arm as the man unslung his rifle.
     'He's gotta be found!'
     'I know sir.' Scott patted Graham's shoulder. 'But I think we need to get the police involved now, organise a manhunt. Sheriff Andrews is the local law, isn't he?'
     'Yeah...'
     'Then I'll contact him, get things organised.' He gazed at Graham with rough compassion. 'Don't worry. We'll find him.'

But four sleepless days later there was still no sign of the Doctor. Graham was desperate – desperate enough to seek out Alec Holland...

'Why are you here?'
     'It's Doctor Arcane...'
     The mossy green head lowered as Alec sighed silently.
     'Of course. It always is.
     'He's missing.'
     'Why should I be concerned?'
     Graham was twitchy with worry and lack of sleep. He gripped Swamp Thing's arm, as if he could force him to care.
     'Listen, if Woodrue takes over the complex, he'll try to drain the swamp. He'll bring in loggers and hunters. I know you hate Doctor Arcane, but at least you know him, know how to keep him under control...'
     Alec stared down at the man before him. Graham was unkempt and obviously hadn't slept in quite some time, his eyes red-rimmed, face gaunt. Alec knew of the assistant's devotion to his boss, although he'd never understood it, but this was above and beyond anything he'd seen before.
     'You... are truly worried about him.'
     Graham rubbed a hand over brimming eyes, distraught and desperate.
     'Please... please help me... help him...'
     Knowing he'd regret it. Alec nevertheless nodded slowly.
     'I promise nothing. But I will see what the swamp knows.'
     Graham bit back a sob of relief and moved a few paces away, sheltering under a tree as Alec drew the swamp's essence into himself...
     Moments later he turned his gaze to Graham.
     'There is a presence, underground. Arcane is somewhere dark and cold, his misery seeping into the rock around him.'
     'Underground? He's buried somewhere? Alive?'
     'Yes... Not buried. But not free.'
     Graham gnawed on his lip, thinking furiously. Then his eyes widened.
     'The cave...? He's in the old cave?'
     'That would fit with what the swamp knows.'
     'Oh god....' Graham almost collapsed with the sudden relief.
     'You had best make haste. Arcane is at the end of his strength.'
     Graham grabbed Alec's hand.
     'Thank you. Thank you...' He turned and raced off through the lush foliage. Alec watched him go sadly, shaking his head.
     'That such devotion should be wasted on such a man...'

Back at the complex Graham gathered up Scott and a couple of other guards, and led them to the blocked-off entrance to the cave. The mortar looked fresh: it didn't take long for pickaxes and crowbars to break through. Graham held up a hand, asking the others to stay back while he entered...
     He swallowed a cry of distress at the sight that met his eyes, and ran to Arcane, dropping to his knees and simply holding the shaking man tightly to him. Haunted eyes in a haggard face turned to him, and he gently touched the Doctor's cheek.
     'Sir? It's Graham.'
     'Gra... ham...?'
     'Yes sir. You're safe now.'
     'Safe?'
     'Yes, Anton.'
     Arcane closed his eyes, shuddering.
     '... so alone... so silent...'
     'I'll make as much noise as you want, sir.'
     Arcane buried his head in his hands, his body shaking with soundless sobs.
     '... Graham...'
     'You're safe. I won't let anyone hurt you ever again.' Graham glanced over his shoulder, calling out to the guards. 'The Doctor needs blankets. And boltcutters, and a stretcher. We need a doctor too.'
     Turning back to Arcane he winced as he took in the state of the man, then awkwardly squirmed out of his lab coat and wrapped it around the Doctor, rubbing at his back to try to generate some heat. Shit, he was so bloody cold! Arcane whimpered and tried to pull himself closer to Graham's warmth, and the assistant dragged the Doctor into his lap, pulling Arcane's head to rest on his shoulder.
     'I'm sorry... I couldn't find you. Had to ask Holland to help...'
     But Arcane had passed out.

He woke up almost warm again, lying on something soft, with Mozart playing in the background. The pinch and sting of a drip stuck in his arm was irritating, but bearable – and the simple, profound relief of not being in that cave was overwhelming. He groaned, and less than a second later felt a familiar hand take his.
     'Sir?'
     'Graham...'
     'How you feeling?'
     'Like hell...' He frowned weakly. 'You rescued me.'
     'Well, yeah. 'Course I did.'
     '... thank you...'
     Graham stared, disbelievingly – but opted not to risk jeopardising something so rare by asking him to repeat it.
     'You're gonna be OK, sir. It'll be a while before you're back to normal, but you haven't developed anything nasty like pneumonia, and a week or two of rest and decent food'll have you back working again.'
     Arcane laid a hand over his eyes. His voice was shaky.
     'Did you catch them?'
     'Catch who, sir?'
     'The...' He gazed up into Graham's face, into worried blue eyes. 'You never saw them. You wouldn't know.'
     Graham lowered his eyes.
     'Sorry.'
     Arcane patted his arm weakly.
     'Not your fault.' He tried and failed to suppress a yawn. 'Think I need to sleep.'
     'Best thing for you, sir.' He laid the hand carefully back on the bed and made to stand. 'I'll be back later.'
     Arcane caught his wrist feebly, and he paused.
     'Please stay.'
     Graham sat back down, expression incredulous.
     'You... want me to stay?'
     '... Yes...'
     Graham stared for a moment, then grinned happily.
     'Of course, sir. For as long as you want.'