Darkness.

That's all he knew now. There was no sense of time. No sense of purpose. Percival Graves could barely breathe. Could barely think.

He was trapped somewhere… Screaming had done nothing in the beginning.

It pressed against him so tightly, he wasn't able to move, and he couldn't tell where his skin and the walls of his prison met. He couldn't move his fingers, he couldn't move his head to the side. He was stuck. It was so tight that his chest couldn't expand. For what felt like forever since he was shoved in here… he had passed out. Woken up with a headache.

Questions were asked.

He refused.

And then agonizing pain.

Then nothing again.

He passed out again when he panicked and couldn't pull air into his lungs.

This repeated several times. Before no longer the voice would visit him, and no longer did the pain came. He had managed to breathe enough to stop passing out, but sleep came harder and harder as he tried to block out what was left of his small world.

How long would he be like this?

How long until they found him?

Until he could break free?

How long had it been?

How long had Director Graves been missing?

Tina Goldstein questioned this since Newt had left on the boat. Her mind was a whirlwind of a mess of thoughts. Thoughts about Newt's return. About losing her friend Mister Kowalski. Her sister being upset about the loss of the No-Maj man's memories (Although she had the inkling feeling Queenie had something up her sleeve) and of course the biggest thought that kept bubbling to the surface.

How long had Mister Graves been missing? Was he even still alive? Where was he?

And how did no one notice he was gone? How had she not noticed?

So when Picquery announced they would be looking for the real Graves; she volunteered. But after a week of non-stop searching, looking all over Graves' apartment, his office, and nearly every dark and disgusting place in New York there was still nothing.

Tina sat at the table at home, looking down at the cup of cocoa Queenie had made her. She stared at the bubbles floating on the top and sighed quietly.

"You'll find him." Queenie said quietly and Tina looked up at her. She was greeted with a small smile, reassuring but it did nothing to calm her.

As expected Grindelwald wouldn't talk. Veritaserum was too weak compared to his Occlumency, he only talked in riddles to reveal Graves' location and it only had the MACUSA running in circles.

Tina had returned to Graves' apartment, looking around again. Checking every closet. Opening every drawer.

There had to be something.

Anything.

Notes. Papers. Books!

She owed it to him!

Graves had been the one to make sure Picquery hadn't taken her wand away for attacking Mary-Lou Barebone. He had been strict. And he had been gruff. Believing his job was more important than anything, and he had kept an eye on all the Aurors. He had even tolerated Queenie. Hadn't yelled too much when she left early in the middle of the week. He wasn't really friends with anyone in the office but … he had saved Tina's headstrong ass multiple times. He was the kind of man who went to be an Auror, and did his best to be the best. He would have put himself in the way of any harm coming to them, and it seems that's exactly what happened. He was gone, and none of them knew.

She owed it to him to find him. Everyone did.

So that was why she had found herself suddenly tearing the house apart. Books were opened and tossed to the floor when nothing came of them, pockets were rifled though, and she was debating to just tear apart the floorboards. There had to be SOMETHING

There just…

There had to be…

There had to…

Tina noticed the mess around her and sunk into a nearby arm chair.

What was she doing?!

How could she tear the man's house apart!?

She'd have to clean all of this up now. Put it all back. Go back home to Queenie. Have Queenie read her thoughts and realize what she'd done and then she'd have to deal with that too.

Tina placed her head into her hands heaving a sigh. It took a moment before she straightened. Best get it out of the way…

Something caught her eye.

A cigar case sitting on the table beside the chair. Silver and polished, it looked expensive. Tina admired it for a moment before going to pick up the books she had tossed to the side. Carefully closing them and inspecting the now damaged spines, deciding if they ever found Graves she would buy him new books.

She was sure he wouldn't enjoy reading ruined books after all. She could picture it. Him sitting in the living room with one of these old books, reading it as he tried to wind down from work. The Cigar case open while he lit-

Tina paused. Wait. She dropped the book she was holding and slowly turned to the cigar case. It sat there on the table. Innocent. Anyone would overlook it. Anyone but those who knew.

Those who knew Percival Graves didn't smoke cigars.

Hesitantly almost as she was scared it would burn her on contact, she reached for the case. It was heavy.

Tina gently pressed on the latch, flicking her wrist the case opened.

Whatever charm that was on the case was immediately broken as she was blinded by a bright light, closing her eyes and dropping the case.

It was a shocking sight, laying on the ground when she opened her eyes, was Percival Graves, laying on his stomach, wearing a dirty short sleeved shirt and his boxers.

She found him!

"Mister Graves!" She called, kneeling down beside him and reached for his shoulder. Something was wrong. There were… large black marks over his arms, too dark to be bruises. She followed the marks down to his hands, his fingers an ugly purple color. Oh no.

Her eyes roamed down him, moving to his legs and a loud gasp escaped her lips. The black marks had continued down his legs, until they reached his knee. Below that, his leg was black. Oh no. Oh NO!

"Mister Graves?" she asked softly, gripping his shoulder to turn him over. Perhaps this was a mistake as a scream of horror ripped from her throat. "Oh Mercy Lewis!" She cried scrambling back from the body.

The black marks continued up to his face, his mouth was… gone. The tip of his nose. Parts of his ears. Warped beyond recognition.

There was a moment of stunned silence before the body in front of her started coughing, drawing in breathes desperately and Tina realized with as sense of horror that Percival Graves was still alive looking like this.