Disclaimer: All characters are entirely fictional and do not belong to me, they are the property of the creators of 'Swamp Thing'. Sadly I am making no money out of this.

Notes: many thanks to Leslie for her enthusiastic support and brilliant betaing - without which this story would have stayed just a figment of my imagination. Thanks also to Leslie and JJ for encouraging my weird rambling and giving me the confidence to try writing.

Happy Birthday Dr. Arcane
Part 1
by Jacqui

Stella was in hiding. If asked, of course, she'd have said that the dull but important paperwork she was doing was the sole reason for her being tucked away in the neglected basement room but no-one would have believed her. Having been at Arcane Industries for less than a year she hadn't been aware that this was the season when all wise employees scrambled over each other to book their annual leave, or find a legitimate family emergency. Indeed it was rumoured that some even went so far as to poison their Grandmothers so they had an excuse to leave Houma. It was a very tense time. Dr Arcane's birthday was only 2 days away.

The Doctor didn't like birthdays. Quite a few people didn't, Stella wasn't so keen herself. But he *really* didn't like them, and the impact of his dislike was being felt all around the compound. One good thing about this basement room was that it didn't have reflective surfaces. Usually the doctor was best kept where he could admire himself but at the moment it just brought on a load of misery. Stella had been caught out enough times, running into Doctor Arcane checking out his reflection for signs of ageing. Each real or imagined grey hair or wrinkle cast him further into depression, set him off onto a mournful monologue about the wilful neglect he suffered from the scientific community and led into a morbid questioning of how little time he had left, how little he had achieved. Stella fled; she had thought her employer's temper tantrums bad enough but this haze of melancholy
was so much worse.

Then there was Graham, he was so much harder to avoid. Stella liked Graham and normally she welcomed his company but she just couldn't stand any more of his search for the perfect gift. She was sure that by now she'd seen every catalogue, visited every store and scanned every website that could possibly hold Graham's elusive Holy Grail - the one gift that would make Arcane happy and truly make him notice his most loyal assistant.

Stella was determined to concentrate on her dull task, while still keeping all her senses on alert. With a growing sense of panic she heard the hollow thud of footsteps approaching along the corridor. Graham had found her. He came staggering in clutching at one awkwardly shaped box, another parcel tucked under his arm.

"Stella, Stella," he yelped excitedly, "I've been looking for you everywhere. Look, it came!" Stella gazed at him blankly and Graham laid the boxes down, looking surprised. "You remember don't you? The order I placed with that British store that I didn't think would come in time. Well it's here!" He was squeaking with happiness so Stella didn't want to admit that she had no recollection at all of this order, out of so many hours of discussion most of Graham's gift ideas had faded to a merciful blur in her mind.

Graham carefully opened the larger box and reverentially unwrapped its contents. Stella blinked, she swallowed hard, she almost had to lift her hand to shield her eyes.

The first impression was of a swirling mass of, well, pinkness. Something very pink had emerged from that box. When her vision cleared she could see that it was a form of garment, shaped rather like a short dressing gown but of a much stiffer fabric, and she could definitely make out some velvet. On the collars and cuffs, the *very* bright pink collars and cuffs. The rest of the, er, item was an extraordinary pattern of what looked like great intertwining creepers in various shades of pink and lilac so vivid they looked capable of leaping off the fabric and strangling any unwary bystander. Stella could truthfully say that she had never seen anything like it.

"I've never seen anything like it," She said, truthfully.

Graham beamed, "It's a one-off," he said, "I had it specially designed, British tailoring. Dr Arcane always says that's the best."

"Um" Stella nodded; it was the only response she could manage.

Graham noted her dazed expression and said, "It's a smoking jacket, not that the Doctor smokes of course. That just means it's something to relax in."

Stella nodded again, the thought of anyone relaxing in that truly amazing garment had totally cost her the small capacity for speech that she had had left.

Graham suddenly thought of something and became even more excited. He looked for somewhere safe to lay down the jacket but, seeing all the dust, he thrust it into Stella's arms for safe keeping. She cradled it as if she'd been given a nest of scorpions to hold while Graham opened the smaller box.

"Look," he said, "they match."

Graham was holding up a pair of slippers.

"Bunny slippers" Stella managed to gasp, in the same colour as the velvet trimmings on the jacket. Cute, button eyed bright pink bunny slippers. Stella shuddered, she felt faint.

For the first time Graham realised that Stella's response wasn't what he expected. His face crumpled and Stella really hated herself. He had been so proud and happy, how could she spoil that? But wasn't it worse to let him just innocently walk into the response he would get from Dr Arcane? She hoped the doctor would treat Graham kindly but she was afraid he wouldn't, and that would simply destroy him. She spoke as gently as she could. "It's a lovely idea Graham, and so thoughtful. I just think the colours aren't really Dr Arcane's sort of thing. He does seem fonder of, well, dark colours?"

"I know Stella," Graham gazed down at the floor, the slippers limp in his hands. "I just wanted to get him something cheerful, to make him feel better." He risked looking up, "Birthdays make him depressed, you know."

"Yes, I know." She said gently.

"I just wanted to give him something personal, from me. So that he'd know how much I lo..." Graham swallowed and stuttered, forcing down the indiscreet word. He struggled with a sudden fit of stammering and came up with a substitute, "how much I *like* and respect him."

Stella looked at Graham, all the joy drained out of him, clutching the hideous slippers and making a hopeless job of hiding the intensity of his emotions. *Something has to be done,* she thought, *something really has to be done.*