This is a fic that I started a really long time ago - as in, I think I wrote the first chapter about a year and a half ago. Thus, a lot of it has been Jossed, but changing it to fit canon would require rewriting basically all of it, so I've kept it as it is. It takes place before Strex and Desert Bluffs invade Night Vale (thus before the second anniversary), but Dana is back in Night Vale. (I told you it was Jossed.) Also, Old Woman Josie is Dana and Tamika's grandmother and the two of them are cousins because I love the idea of the three of them being a badass family.

This work will have 10 chapters in all. Updates will occur daily.

The title comes from a quote by Leroy Browlow (whom I know nothing about, but I like the quote): "There are times when silence has the loudest voice."

Disclaimer: I don't own WtNV.

Carlos was a little irked when he got a phone call from Cecil in the middle of his highly-sensitive experiment. He had told Cecil not to call him unless it was an emergency. Carlos let the phone ring until the call went to voicemail.

It was only a minute later that it hit Carlos with all the subtlety of a tiny projectile in the bowling ball retrieval area of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex (Carlos's metaphors had gotten a lot more specific recently) that, considering it was Night Vale, there could very well have been an emergency and, more to the point, Cecil could be calling because he was in danger. The experiment was at a relatively stable point, so Carlos grabbed his phone and called Cecil back.

"Cecil? Is something wrong?"

"It's not Cecil, and hell yeah there's something wrong," a voice replied. Carlos's blood went cold. It was Old Woman Josie, calling with Cecil's phone and saying something was wrong.

Well, shit.

"Miss Josie," Carlos said politely, but with a clear undercurrent of worry in his voice. "Um, what's going on? Why do you have Cecil's phone?"

"I think you'd better get over here," Old Woman Josie suggested grimly. Carlos could feel the blood drain from his face. He quickly neutralized the chemicals on his experiment, barely mourning the loss of data, and sprinted out of his lab. Old Woman Josie's house wasn't far from Carlos's lab, but it seemed to take an unbearably long amount of time to get from one place to the other.

There were a few angels hanging around Old Woman Josie's house, as usual, and normally Carlos would have stopped too look (who cared if the City Council said angels didn't exist? They were right there and they clearly did, so Carlos would study them if he wanted to). This time, however, Carlos ignored the angels completely in favor of running to the door and pounding on it. Old Woman Josie opened it, looking grave.

"Where's Cecil?" Carlos demanded. Old Woman Josie stepped aside and Carlos could see Cecil lying on her couch, deathly pale and still. "Cecil!" Carlos cried, running to his side.

"Erika found him in the used car lot and brought him inside," Old Woman Josie told him. "Looks like he was attacked." Carlos could see that himself; Cecil's shirt was torn and bloodied and there was a ring of bruises around his neck. It looked like someone tried to strangle him.

"Do you have, um, any idea who did this?" Carlos asked, trying and failing pathetically in sounding like he wasn't panicking internally (and externally, really) over Cecil's condition. Old Woman Josie shook her had.

"I can't think of anyone who'd want to hurt Cecil like this."

"What about, um, Steve Carlsberg? Don't he and Cecil hate each other?" Carlos asked. He'd never actually spoken to Steve Carlsberg, but considering how much Cecil hated him, Carlos wasn't willing to trust Steve on much of anything.

"Nah, Steve Carlsberg wouldn't do something like this. He and Cecil don't like each other, but they don't hate each other this much," Old Woman Josie replied. "Hasn't Cecil told you about why he hates him?"

"No," Carlos replied, his curiosity piqued. "Whenever I try to bring him up, Cecil makes me stop. What happened?"

"That's not important right now," Old Woman Josie dismissed, and Carlos immediately realized that yes, she was right, that was far from important when Cecil was lying on the couch, pale as a corpse. And he had to stop making the death metaphors, because they were only serving to freak him out more.

"We shouldn't take him to the hospital," Old Woman Josie added. Carlos nodded. It hadn't even occurred to him to do that, not with Night Vale's hospital. He doubted Cecil would ever come out, or if he did, he wouldn't be the same.

"Should we try and take care of him ourselves?" Carlos asked. Old Woman Josie shrugged.

"I guess that's all we can do."

Old Woman Josie got a towel that Carlos used to wipe away the blood on Cecil's chest. The cuts weren't serious, thank God, and Cecil didn't actually seem to have that much damage. Carlos just hoped there wasn't anything internal. Given his luck (and the way Night Vale tended to work), there probably would be.

Cecil began to stir a little under Carlos's ministrations. "Cecil?" Carlos murmured, stroking his cheek gently. "Cecil, can you wake up for me?"

"Carlos," Cecil croaked. Or, at least, Carlos thought that was what he was trying to say. The voice that attempted to speak Carlos's name was nothing like the voice that was normally on the radio. For a moment, Carlos was worried, but he assumed it was a temporary thing. It had to be, right?

"Cecil, I'm right here," Carlos soothed. "I'm right here. You're okay. Don't try to talk."

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. Cecil's eyes went wide, all three of them. Only a croak escaped his mouth again when he tried to speak. Carlos couldn't help but feel worried. Was Cecil's voice... No. It couldn't be gone. It couldn't be.

"Cecil, it's okay," Carlos soothed. Cecil's tattoos were an anxious orange. "You're okay. Just calm down, okay?"

"What's wrong with him?" Old Woman Josie asked. Carlos turned to her.

"Can you get him a glass of water?" he requested. Old Woman Josie went to her kitchen instantly.

Cecil made the croaking noise that sounded vaguely like Carlos' name again. "Shh, shh," Carlos soothed. "Don't try to talk, sweetheart." Cecil's eyes were wide and scared. "It'll be alright," Carlos added. "Just rest."

"I've got him some water," Old Woman Josie called, entering the room. "Here." She passed the cup to Carlos. He carefully allowed Cecil to drink. Cecil gulped it down. Carlos felt a tiny part of him relax; at least there wasn't damage to the esophagus. His trachea, on the other hand... Cecil's breaths sounded painful and forced, and his voice was so raw. Carlos tried to convince himself it wouldn't be permanent, but he couldn't help but worry it would be.

"Cecil, who should do the show tonight?" Old Woman Josie asked. Carlos shoved Cecil a pad and a pen before he could speak, grateful that the on-again, off-again ban on writing utensils was currently not in effect.

Intern Dana, Cecil wrote neatly on the pad. Old Woman Josie nodded. Dana had returned to Night Vale a week before, after her time in the Dog Park. Cecil had found her outside the radio station, a tan jacket draped over her. They had no idea so far if the tan jacket belonged to the Man in the Tan Jacket, but Dana sort of remembered talking with someone who she thought was wearing a tan jacket, so he was the leading suspect. Whatever had caused it, Dana was back in Night Vale and had resumed her place as intern. Cecil had told Carlos confidentially that he thought she was a good contender for the next Voice of Night Vale. Carlos thought she was incredible. He had been one of the people that threw food in to her while she was in the Dog Park, and he was glad she was okay.

"I'll get Tamika to tell her," Old Woman Josie told Cecil. She was, Carlos had learned recently, Dana's grandmother, and Dana was, Carlos had also learned recently, Tamika Flynn's cousin. Carlos had never made the connection, but he had to admit there was a family resemblance.

Old Woman Josie stepped out of the room to contact Tamika. Carlos ran his fingers through Cecil's hair gently.

"Oh, Cecil," he sighed. "I'm so sorry about what happened."

Not your fault, Cecil wrote on the pad, showing it to Carlos.

"I'm still sorry," Carlos replied, pressing a gentle kiss to Cecil's forehead. Cecil smiled softly.

How long until my voice is okay again? he asked. Carlos shrugged.

"Shouldn't be too long." He was proud that his voice didn't waver once. In truth, he had no idea how long it would take for Cecil to heal, or even if he would heal at all. But he would. He had to. Especially considering this was Night Vale. Surely Station Management had some sort of ritual they could do, if Cecil's voice really was permanently damaged. There had to be some way to fix it. There had to.

"Carlos?" Old Woman Josie called. Carlos stood quickly. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"I'll be right back, Cecil," Carlos said, dropping a quick kiss on Cecil's forehead (although it was carefully not on his third eye). He walked into the kitchen with Old Woman Josie and slumped once he was out of Cecil's line of vision, leaning forward on a chair.

"How is he?" Old Woman Josie asked quietly. Carlos sighed.

"I don't know how much internal damage was done. He seems mostly okay, but there seems to be some damage done to his trachea and maybe his larynx."

"His what and his what?" Old Woman Josie asked. Carlos waved a dismissive hand.

"Windpipe and vocal cords."

"But if there's damage to his vocal cords..." Old Woman Josie's voice trailed off. Carlos nodded.

"He could lose the ability to speak."

Saying the words out loud made them sound so cold, so final. Old Woman Josie looked stricken.

"But what would happen if the Voice of Night Vale didn't have a voice?" she asked in a hushed voice. Carlos shrugged.

"We'd get a new Voice, I guess."

"A new Voice only comes around after the old Voice's contract is ended," Old Woman Josie replied. "And that's not for a while."

"But if something like this happens-"

"Not meeting the contract is a felony," Old Woman Josie interrupted. Carlos's eyes went wide. "No exceptions."

"That's insane!"

"That's Night Vale," Old Woman Josie replied with a sigh.

"But in this situation, he physically can't do the broadcast. Doesn't that change things?"

Old Woman Josie shrugged. "Maybe. You need to take your case to Station Management. But I would wait a bit. Cecil never takes a day off, so he's got some vacation days stored up. Dana can do the broadcast for those."

"Okay. And he might be okay. He might not have permanent damage." Carlos wasn't good at being optimistic. Old Woman Josie could tell.

"What should we tell Cecil?" she asked.

"Nothing. Not until we know something for certain," Carlos replied. Old Woman Josie sighed.

"It'll crush him."

"He'll be okay," Carlos replied, although he didn't quite believe it himself. He stepped out of the kitchen when Old Woman Josie didn't respond. Cecil was still on the couch. He was doodling on the pad, seeming to be lost in thought. "Cecil?" Carlos asked.

Cecil looked up, beaming. He seemed to have gone back to his normal, cheery self fairly quickly. What did you and Old Woman Josie talk about? he asked. Carlos sighed.

"Nothing," he replied. "But Cecil, I need to ask you something and you need to answer me."

Cecil's brow creased slightly. What? he wrote.

"Who attacked you?"

Cecil shrugged. I don't remember, he wrote. Carlos frowned.

"How can you not remember?"

Cecil shrugged again. Spell? he asked. Spells of that sort are illegal, but so is trying to kill the Voice of Night Vale. A side bit of Carlos' brain noticed that Cecil didn't say murder was illegal, just killing the Voice, but that wasn't too important. The important part was figuring out what happened to Cecil. Carlos could panic about Night Vale's laws (or lack thereof) later.

Can I sleep for a while? Cecil wrote, tapping Carlos's shoulder. I'm exhausted. Nearly dying does that to you, I've found. Carlos nodded absently.

"Sure, go ahead," he replied. Almost immediately, Cecil closed his eyes and fell asleep. Carlos leaned back, sighed, and wondered what the hell had happened this time around.