A Swampy Round Robin

He didn't remember how long he sat like that, crouched over Graham's body. Time didn't seem to be flowing at its regular rate, hours, days, it didn't matter. Nothing did. He had killed Graham! God, he couldn't get his mind around that thought. He just couldn't have! Graham was his assistant, the only person he trusted in this world. If there was one thing Anton Arcane knew is was that he'd never hurt Graham, not seriously anyway. Sure, he'd threatened the man's life on a few occasions. But if Graham was enough of a simpleton to believe it, well then that was his own fault. Wasn't it?

Pressing his hands against his forehead Arcane stifled a sob. He would not cry over Graham, he would not!! Opening his eyes he focused on Graham's pale features. The man almost looked like he was sleeping. If not for the blood ... and there was so much of it.

"Oh god, Graham," Arcane curled his hands into fists, voice shaking. "Wake up you moron! Please Graham, wake up!!"

Surging to his feet Arcane looked wildly around the room. "Holland!! He can help." He grinned madly at the corpse, "Don't worry old chap, Holland can bring you back to life!" Face falling Arcane suddenly remembered Alec's odd behaviour earlier, *he's the last person that will help me now!*

Frowning Arcane tried to think past the pounding in his head and the sinking despair the flooded him. Graham was simply too important to let die. He had to find a way! *If I just wasn't so bloody sick!* Sick, that word seemed to echo through his head reminding him of the last time he was sick. Though of course that hadn't been his fault, someone had placed a voodoo curse on him,

Voodoo!! That was his answer! Arcane grinned, and insane light appearing in his eyes. If voodoo could almost cause his death then there had to be a way to make it work in the opposite.

Swiftly he bent down next to Graham, tenderly patting the man's face, "Everything is going to be okay Graham. You'll see." Nodding almost to himself Arcane continued, "I'll have you back by my side in no time. No matter what it takes!"

***

When Arcane straightened up again he was hit by a fresh wave of nausea and dizziness. He stood for a moment, steadying himself against the wall before he was able to move. He had hoped to move Graham's body but now realised that was unfeasible, he'd just cover him up and make sure to securely lock the lab - he wouldn't be gone long anyway.

The doctor felt a little stronger for having a plan, all he had to do was restore his dead assistant and cure an unknown disease. No problem for a genius such as himself. The prospect of getting his life back as it should be made him almost cheerful, despite how tired and ill he felt, as he walked back to his office.

He headed straight for a carefully concealed drawer in his desk and removed a sheaf of papers. He had gambled that any enemy would be looking for a more high tech hiding place for his secrets and so far that seemed to have worked. He rifled through until he found the photocopies he wanted.

Arcane gave just the slightest smile which was not, for once, cynical or manipulative. Even Graham hadn't found *this* hiding place or he surely wouldn't have taken quite so much abuse over trading a certain book of voodoo for the intervention that saved Arcane's life. The doctor remembered his assistant's concern for him when he was sick and felt something unusual, a pang of guilt. Perhaps he had been rather unfair to Graham given the circumstances. Still he was hardly responsible for the little twit failing to work out that he was bound to have a copy of this valuable material.

Arcane skimmed through the material, searching through the scrawled script and bizarre illustrations for the section he wanted. Finally he located the right pages and was relieved that his recollection was correct - there was a section on raising the dead. Or in the book's rather quaint, unscientific, terms - zombies.

***

The small, mostly quiet town of Houma was going slowly crazy. Already there had been more than a dozen violent and unexplained murders. Lovers turning on each other, people killing their once best friends and perhaps worse was the case of a single mother murdering her two small children as they slept. Sheriff Andrews had no idea what to do, nothing in his life and career had prepared him for the violence spreading through Houma's citizen's.

Unbeknownst to himself Andrews was in possession of a piece of information that could have solved the town's problems. The day before the first signs of trouble had presented themselves in a shocking rampage of destruction, he had observed a rather unique looking woman leaving only Houma's airport. Somewhere Andrew knew he'd seen the woman before, with her over large earrings and somewhat condescending French accent, it was a image the niggled in the back of his mind.

Unfortunately for Sheriff Andrews and the whole town by the time he had remembered seeing her at Arcane's Complex it was way too late. He didn't even see the truck that hit him, leaving his car in a mangled heap of twisted metal.

***

Arcane checked carefully through the precious photocopies that were going to help him restore Graham. Unfortunately he needed a few 'ingredients' that were rather unusual. As it happened they were the sort of things that could often be found around Arcane enterprises but this had been a quiet period.

The doctor roused himself painfully, he would have to go into town for supplies. He knew that he was too woozy to be drive safely so, reluctantly, he called upon the most capable looking minion to cross his path. He didn't know who the man was, and he didn't care so long as he knew how to do as he was told. Unfortunately he turned out to be a chatterer, prattling away before they even reached the car. Arcane tried to glare the man into silence, if it was worth the use of energy he'd kill this moron as soon as they got back. Of course Graham could be annoyingly talkative but that was different, that was...well it just was different. He forced himself not to think about it. He had work to do.

As it happened the endless chattering of his driver was useful. When he heard about the violence and madness in town Arcane affected indifference, "I have problems of my own," he snapped, "the affairs of these people mean nothing to me." But he was interested, this must have some bearing on his own medical condition. It would also make it more likely he could find the 'raw materials' he needed.

Nightfall had quietened the town somewhat and Arcane made it to his destination without incident. He headed into the town morgue with the underling trailing miserably behind him. Mmmm, plenty of fresh corpses, it was easy to harvest the necessary......fluids and the fresh human liver he needed. Arcane did some chopping and dicing to the sound of a minion vomiting in the corner and then just decided to check out the rest of the corpses for any useful clues.

He pulled the sheet off one particularly mangled corpse, burnt and crushed, one arm ripped off. *Sheriff Andrews, couldn't happen to a more suitable person.*

Then Arcane grinned ghoulishly, he had a thought that was rather 'Night of the living dead'. He had plenty of materials, and medical breakthroughs do need testing. It would be best to test the procedure on someone, or something, more expendable before risking Graham. Thus it was that they returned to the car with Arcane almost sprightly with his bag of supplies and a deeply unhappy minion dragging a hideous, stiffening corpse.

***

Getting the corpse from the vehicle and down into the lab was a bit of a trial, more so for the incompetent moron assisting him. The man was turning a rather startling shade of green. Still that was the last thing on his mind as he prepared the test subject for the experiment. Things had to be just right for everything to work the way it should.

Readying the last of the components Arcane lighted the candles and incense. What was it with ancient voodoo spells that required the use of such archaic devices. Still, best to follow directions to the letter.

Arcane read the words written on the page, stumbling a few times over the difficult pronunciation. However he managed to get through it, shaking the newly made potion all over Andrews corpse. Repeating the spell three more times as directed Arcane waited in tense silence for the fireworks to begin. A minute passed, then five all without the slightest twitch or sign of life.

Arcane sagged against the wall, it hadn't worked? God, what was he going to do now? How was he supposed to bring Graham back if the one method he had at his disposal was a complete and utter failure. Shaking with rage he suddenly whirled around to face Graham's corpse, words screaming from his mouth, "God Damn you Graham! How dare you DIE! How dare you let ..." voice choking back a sob, "Why didn't you just run, you MORON! Complete and utter idiot GRAHAM! You knew what the virus did, you, you should have been more bloody careful." Tears prickled hotly in his eyes as the fact he'd never have Graham by his side again, never talk to the man, never insult of berate him, never again feel that unfailing loyal and devoted presence, finally hit home. Throat aching he dropped to his knees by the covered corpse, letting his tears fall, for once uncaring of keeping up the appearance that Graham was nothing more then his assistant, that he didn't need anyone. He needed Graham!

In his grief he almost didn't hear the first stirrings of sound, the fumbling thumps of something moving closer. A ghost of a touch feathered past his shoulder, with a yelp Arcane twisted around, involuntarily stumbling back at the sight of Sheriff Andrews horribly burned and mangled corpse staring back at him from no further then two feet.

***

Arcane fell over the shrouded corpse of his assistant, shocked by the particularly disgusting sight of the reanimated sheriff. He had seen some unpleasant things in his life but this was nasty. Andrews raised his one remaining arm and reached out again to touch the doctor. Arcane recoiled, unwilling to have the creature anywhere near him, then realisation flooded through him. It worked. He smiled up at the horrible remnants of a small time sheriff and said out loud, "it works."

Arcane touched Graham stroking his hand through the sheet that covered him. He was still keeping a wary eye on Andrews but nothing could constrain the happiness he felt, "everything's all right," he told Graham," I'm bringing you back." Arcane felt light headed with relief. "I'm bringing you back."

The Andrews creature was still struggling to touch Arcane, "Master," it said in a strange, toneless voice.

Arcane stood up slowly, "you've served your purpose Andrews, you can just toddle off to some corner somewhere and disintegrate slowly, there's a good sheriff."

"Master," he repeated, stolidly.

Arcane cast a worried look over his creation, Andrews was certainly no great brain and he had been a sluggish creature but this was a born again moron. For a moment Arcane felt a chill of disquiet but then he reconsidered the state of the body, especially the grey brain tissue that oozed out of a nasty head wound. No problem then, if he hadn't been so distracted he'd have expected this. Still, he wanted nothing more from this creature so he wouldn't bother feeding it the potion it needed to continue existing.

He smiled down at Graham, almost fondly, "Your turn now, I'll soon have you back where you belong." Carefully, Arcane began the ceremony.

***

Everything had been done exactly as it should, the ceremony going off without a single hitch. Even the late Sheriff Andrews had disappeared something to rot quietly. If it wasn't for the persistent aches and pains that made themselves known with every breath life would have been good.

"Not long now Graham," Arcane waited nervously, resisting the urge to pace. He didn't want to turn his eyes away from the still corpse of his assistant and chance missing the big moment. Suddenly, between one moment and the next their was a twitch from the still form. Holding his breath Arcane stared harder, yes, there ... another twitch. "That's it Graham, come on now!"

Slowly those blue eyes blinked open, staring up at the ceiling, A confused look furrowed Graham's brow and Arcane had to restrain the need to jump up in excitement. Calming himself he carefully crouched by his re-animated assistant.

"Graham? Graham can you hear me?" Anxiously Arcane waited, unbidden thoughts of how Andrews had turned out rising in his mind. But no, this was different, Graham hadn't been hurt as badly, hadn't been missing half his brain.

"Doctor?" Graham's voice cracked over the word, slow and unsure.

"Yes!" Smiling in excited relief Arcane gently helped his assistant stand up. "Yes it's me Graham, I brought you back."

"Back?" Blinking Graham turned puzzled eyes on the Doctor.

"You were dead Graham," Arcane slid a supporting arm around the man's shoulders, pulling his assistant just that little bit closer at the same time. "My genius brought you back."

"Dead."

Arcane felt the first upwelling of horror, the was something wrong. In the rush of getting his assistant back he'd only just noticed how dull Graham's voice sounded, how still he was compared to before. By now Graham would have been complimenting him on his brilliant work.

"Graham," Arcane swung the man around to face him. "are you, are you alright?"

"Yes," Graham tilted his head slightly, "master." At no point did his expression change.

The Doctor was left staring into empty blue eyes that showed no signs of emotions or life. "oh dear god no," Arcane whispered, stomach dropping, "it didn't work."

***

"Master," Graham repeated, looking back at Arcane without a hint of expression. Arcane reached out to touch him, aware that his hand was trembling. Just the slightest touch to Graham's face, the flesh was warm and felt as it always had but there was no response. The number of times he had taken this face in his hands, sometimes to reproach his assistant, more often just in a moment of excitement or enthusiasm, but always eliciting a response and always seeing something close to adoration in those eyes. Arcane drew back his hand as if the touch burnt, he couldn't bear to see the blank indifference in Graham's eyes.

Arcane turned away, bitterly angry at himself. How could he have been so rash? If only he didn't feel so ill he would have thought more carefully, put Graham in cryo-storage while he considered the options. To have rushed into this mad scheme, especially given the outcome of his first experiment was simply insane. Arcane stood with his head in his hands, too tired and in too much pain to think, in that moment he just wanted to surrender and let go of these seemingly intractable problems.

His moment of exhausted self pity was broken by the sound of a barely familiar voice coming from over by the lift. "Master," It said. Arcane raised his head and took in the repellent sight of Sheriff Andrews staggering towards him, the zombie was dribbling grey, mushy brains out of his head wound, and leaving an unidentifiable slimy trail on the floor.

The doctor welcomed a focus for his frustration, he threw a tray of surgical instruments across the room and screamed at Andrews, "Get out, get out of this room and out of my compound, just get out."

The creature turned back to the lift, and using its one remaining mutilated hand pressed the call button. Arcane was dragged out of his misery by a moment of scientific curiosity, so the zombie was more functional than he had realised?

Arcane swallowed down his emotions, he was a scientist, he had always been able to put rational thought first. "Graham," he said, somewhat cautiously, "clear up this room."

"Yes, master," the zombie intoned, starting immediately to get to work.

Arcane watched carefully, it was as he had hoped. The creature that had once been Graham retained a least the practical part of his memory, it worked quickly and efficiently and needed no further instruction. Indeed he was now somewhat more efficient, no stumbling or bumbling, no distracting attempts at conversation.

*Perhaps I should kill all my staff and bring them back as zombies,* Arcane thought, *greater productivity and a big saving on the wage bill.* He forced back the foolish emotional responses that had so dragged him down. He did have Graham back, the useful, reliable lab assistant. In fact he had him back better than before.

So why did he have such an aching pressure at the back of his throat that felt like unshed tears? He would *not* miss Graham's distracting little human weaknesses, like the way he actually seemed to take pleasure in his company even though he was treated so badly. Like the way Graham had always been there to listen to him when he was depressed or tend to him when he was ill. Anton Arcane did *not* need anyone, an assistant was just there to work, nothing more, and he had that. He swallowed down hard, he would not let himself fall prey to useless emotions. Arcane shook himself and stretched, trying to ease pain that was making him increasingly immobile. Time to concentrate on finding a cure for this disease.

Meanwhile, some distance away, the stumbling form of Sheriff Andrews had reached the swamp. Alec Holland became aware of the strange presence quite a while before he saw it, the agitation from the flora and fauna all around him was enough to rouse him from his sickly doze. Holland felt the sense of something out of balance and he got to his feet and dragged wearily along the route that led to Arcane Industries. *Trouble from there,* he mumbled, *always trouble.* Thus it was that he came face to face with the rotting, animated corpse of Houma's deceased Sheriff. The zombie almost fell into his arms and Holland looked at it with disgust so great that it cleared confusion from his mind. He clenched his fists and cried out, as much with tired resignation as with anger, 'Arcane!"

***

After contemplating several different but equally painful methods of shaking the truth out of Arcane, Holland discarded them all. Now was not the time to lose himself in the confused anger surging through his system. If he wanted to set things straight he had concentrate. If there was one thing that Alec knew about Arcane was that the man didn't act without a reason.

There had to be a method to his madness, a reason how the Sheriff can to be dead and yet not dead. *Think,* Holland stared at the badly damaged Andrews, *why would Arcane bring this man back to life! Why would he risk the consequences ...* Suddenly Alec knew. Knew why Arcane had started bringing people back from the dead. *There's only one person that Arcane would go to so much trouble and damn the consequences for. Something must have happened to Graham.*

Holland felt a twinge of worry, he remembered throwing the man pretty hard against the wall. What if he'd seriously injured the man? No, he couldn't afford to think about that right now. First he had to restore the balance and put right what Arcane had made wrong.

Stepping closer to the zombie, Holland reached out for the power of the Swamp. Sending out a wordless plea he could feel the forces gathering, connecting him with the poor soul trapped in that mutilated body. Sheriff Andrews was aware and was suffering, Alec could feel his pain. Readying all the power at his command Holland pulled the trapped soul from it's binding, the effort draining him of all reserves.

Vaguely aware of the freed soul expressing joy and gratitude, Holland smiled in relief, at least one good thing had happened this day. In passing the soul brushed against his mind, depositing a lump of information before departing in a silent rush of light.

Frowning Holland sat back to attempt to sort through the tangled web of another's memories that seemed determined to slip through his fingers. There was a impression in there that seemed important, the image of a face where it shouldn't be. A person connecting with what was happening. The memory fuzzily came into focus causing Holland to suck in a startled breath. He knew her, knew she was worse then Arcane, knew she had a grudge ...

Carla Jeffries! Finally his anger had a target.

Back at Arcane Industries, the Doctor was doing his best to ignore the silent presence standing in the room. Usually he had no problem ignoring Graham, but now the motionless figure grated against his nerves. At least the old Graham would have tried to make himself useful. This new zombie version might be more efficient, but he had to order it to perform even the simplest of tasks.

Arcane even found himself missing the way Graham used pretend not to be watching him. By now the man might have worked up the courage to insist he rest, or eat or any number of things he usually forgot in the run of a day. The creature standing over in the corner, where he had ordered it after being unable to withstand the cold, impersonal presence standing so close ... it may wear the face and body of his assistant but there the resemblance ended.

All the warmth and life had disappeared and Arcane found himself missing that more than he was prepared to deny. Like when he had grabbed Graham's arm, excited at the hint of a solution in the blood sample he was examining ... the man hadn't said a word or made a sound. Didn't congratulate him on his brilliance or blush at their closeness. He missed that, missed it like an arm or a leg, a phantom pain that refused to go away. Graham's body maybe be alive and standing with him, but his soul was missing and it was haunting Arcane's every moment.

***

Alec Holland trudged wearily through the swamp, he had forgotten what it was like to feel pain through all the years of having such a strong, invulnerable body. However he was learning to tolerate it, he had enough lessons on stoicism from the creatures around him to gather strength. He was more worried about the wild emotional changes that still coursed through him, from depression to rage and back again. The consequences of anger had sickened him, he had carried back to the swamp with him the smell of burning flesh, the knowledge that he was capable of taking pleasure in causing pain. That was bad enough in itself, it had led him to cry out loud to the forces of nature for forgiveness and beg them to teach him restraint. But now he feared he had done far worse, if he had killed Graham then he didn't even have the excuse of righteous anger, he had casually turned his superior strength on someone who had never really done anything to deserve it. Graham might well have crossed the line into evil in the course of his strange, even obsessive, devotion to Arcane but he had no proof of it and could not claim to have been thinking rationally - any bystander, however innocent could have been the victim of his wrath.

Holland prepared himself to meet Arcane, using every ounce of his will to resist the emotional strain that the disease was causing him. He would not lose himself again, he would not descend to the level of a man like Arcane, or a woman like Carla Jeffries.

Back in his lab Arcane ordered the creature that had once been Graham to prepare more samples. He watched, hollow eyed, as the silent figure tended efficiently to its work, not really understanding why the loss of *his* Graham distressed him so much. Must be the weakening effect of the illness. Surely it had to be that, what else could it be?

The sound of alarms roused Arcane, instinctively he glanced across at Graham but, of course, the zombie remained impassive unmoved by the commotion. The real Graham would have been a gibbering wreck by now, competing with Arcane for a safe hiding place, trying to hide behind him. Arcane found that he didn't much care what new disaster the alarms heralded, he was sick, possibly dying. He had lost Graham. Just let the next little basket full of misery arrive, he was past caring.

When the new misery-o-gram turned out to be Alec Holland, Arcane was almost relieved. He didn't even bother to cringe. He just stood in the middle of the lab, arms folded, almost as impassive as his zombie assistant. "Come to kill me, Alec?" He asked, laconically. "I certainly hope you get something out of it, because I can assure you I simply don't care any more."

He then took a closer look at Alec Holland, the swamp mutant didn't look as though he was in a homicidal rage. Indeed if an eight foot tall mound of vegetation could look shifty then this was exactly what Holland was doing. Arcane was perplexed, but he decided a stoney silence was the best approach to this new, and definitely improved version of his arch enemy.

Holland kept casting odd little glances at Graham, who stood in senseless and unmoved over by the lift. "I know what you've been up to, Arcane. I found Sheriff Andrews." He looked again at Graham, "you've used voodoo." He was trying to sound stern, and judgmental, but his heart just wasn't in it.

Arcane looked at him, *so why aren't you rampaging around threatening me with death for some nonsense or other about disturbing the balance of nature?* He thought.

Holland shuffled his feet, "I know what I did was wrong, Arcane. I stooped to your level."

Even given Holland's normal self righteousness Arcane felt he was overdoing the guilt a bit for just a simple burn. Arcane had certainly suffered worse in his time.

The swamp creature shuffled some more, "I even understand why you used voodoo. I do know how much Graham means to you, and after what I did..."

*How much GRAHAM means to me....what utter codswallop.* Then something more important got through to Arcane. He had to force down the urge to laugh. *The great green simpleton thinks *he* killed Graham. This is priceless. More than that, it is perfect.*

Arcane kept a grim and serious expression on his face. "Well, you can see how the voodoo worked out."

Holland cast another glance at Graham and tried to rally a bit, "you should have known no good would come of it, Arcane."

"I had no choice, Alec, I had to get him back." Arcane, surprised himself, he had no need to fake the emotion in his voice. It was quite true.

Holland came close to reaching out a sympathetic paw to him, "I know, Anton."

*Oh aren't we just so close to a bonding moment. Any more of this and I'll have a bilious attack.*

"Well," Arcane said out loud, tapping his foot impatiently,

"Well what?"

"You caused this ....situation... What are you going to do about it?"

Holland did try to regain a little of his normal self. "I didn't start this Arcane. Carla Jeffries is *your* enemy, your presence here bought this illness upon us all."

"Carla Jeffries!!" Arcane almost yelped.

"She's behind all this. Oh," Holland paused, "I forgot to tell you."

*Of course you did, you intolerable half-wit.*

"Carla, interesting." He mused out loud, "I will deal with her later. But now," he glared fiercely at Holland, "you owe Graham your help. You have to bring him back. The real Graham." Arcane watched Holland intently, so anxious he could hardly breath. This had to work, Holland had to be able to bring *his* Graham back.

"I don't know if I can."

"Holland........"

"I can set his soul free, I did that for the sheriff."

*Dammit no, Graham's soul isn't free. Its mine.* Arcane shuddered slightly at that bizarre thought, *and where did THAT come from?*

"I want him back." He said stubbornly.

For the first time Holland allowed himself to look properly at the zombie.

"His body seems in good condition."

"It is perfectly well kept, I've seen to that."

Holland took a deep breath. "Then it may be possible, but I warn you I can only release his spirit, I can't direct it. He will have a choice."

For a moment they looked at each other, both remembering a similar occasion and neither willing to mention it.

*Graham swore I'd never be rid of him, he won't betray me that way.......*

Arcane was horrified at the turn his thoughts had taken, that he could *ever* believe his wife had chosen her death over staying with him. He cast a guilty look at Alec Holland, almost as if the swamp monster could read his mind. Fortunately Holland was too busy pondering what to do with Graham.

"All right," he said finally, "I'm certainly not going to leave Graham a zombie so there is no real choice."

Holland got Arcane to order Graham up onto the gurney. Then he took in a deep breath, renewed his contact with the forces of nature and began to free Graham's soul from its zombie state.

***

Graham felt a prickling sensation along nerves he no longer felt. Trapped with in the bonds of his re-animated body he had no sense of time or events. Life now was like drowning in the deepest ocean, cold, alone and unfeeling. Until that light touch brought light and warmth into his world, exposing him to sound and sight once again.

Questing, he brushed ghostly fingers across the presence with him, he knew it, didn't he? Somehow it was familiar. Pulling closer Graham shivered at the warmth and comfort being offered, at the unexpected gentleness in something he sensed great strength.

Free now of the clinging blackness Graham turned more fully to examine what had touched his soul, what had brought him back. With a start he was finally able to put a name to the presence. Holland, Alec Holland.

Curious he moved closer, basking in the cool green shade that shrouded the figure like a blanket, protecting and calming. *Why,* silently, wondering, Graham needed to know, *why help?*

Just as silently and inexplicitly the answer came, *for you. For him,* wordlessly the pure consciousness of Swamp Thing gestured towards the brooding, painfully tense figure besides him. *Because it was right.*

Searching the other presence, brushing against it Graham was inundated by dark rage and endless sorrow. *Doctor Arcane!* shocked Graham faltered at the intense feelings. Tentatively reaching out one more he almost wept at the depth of pain he could feel.

Looking back at Holland, he wordlessly sent the only question he knew to ask. *Your choice,* whispering, the voice pointed towards a warmth, a light Graham had remained unaware of. *life or peace.*

Mind fluxing Graham was stunned by the offer. He could choose ... choose to go, leave the pain, the loneliness and fear of his past behind him. Be finally free of everything this life had done to twist him, to hurt him. With a small cry of joy he lept at the offered light, only the ghost of a feeling pausing him at the last moment.

*What about Dr. Arcane?* Graham turned once more to Holland's soothing presence.

*Choose this and you can no longer be with him, never see him again.*

*Never?!* Heart breaking Graham turned back to the offered peace, *but, I love him.*

*I know Graham,* sorrowfully Holland, understanding vibrating is his essence, *there is no other way. Choose life, or choose peace.*

Trailing the edges of his consciousness into the warm light, Graham wanted more than anything to go in, to move forward and leave the pain and destruction behind.

Closing virtual eyes he extended his had to Holland, *help me back.*

Nodding, Holland who had been ignoring Arcane up to this point, stepped closer to Graham. Focusing his energy for the burst of power needed to join soul and body.

"What's going on?? Holland?" Voice climbing higher Arcane could feel dread pool in his stomach. Things were taking to long, and Graham wasn't moving. "Dammit Holland, I demand to know!"

Sighing, Alec stepped away, silently gesturing for Arcane to move closer. "See for yourself Arcane, see what you had caused."

Swallowing against the thick tightness in his throat Arcane took a fearful step forward. His assistant was so still, too still. *Oh dear god, he left me. Graham is never coming back.* Biting his knuckle Arcane choked back a sob, he wouldn't give Holland the satisfaction of seeing him break down.

Just thing Graham's lungs breathed in, once, twice. Opening dazed eyes to the painful light, Graham looked up into disbelieving face of his employer. "Told you you'd never be rid of me," he managed to rasp, fingers softly brushing against the Doctor's cheek.

Continued in Part 3

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