Journey
folder
1 through F › Dark City
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
0
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
1 through F › Dark City
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
1,338
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Disclaimer: I do not own or make any money off Dark City or its lovely boys, or this story :)
The Hanged Man: Sacrifice
Tarot - The Hanged Man
Sacrifice
In his dreams, he meets with the Daniel from his fake memories, strong and whole, with none of the scarring that the strangers have inflicted on him. They sit together on the sand at Shell Beach, where Daniel has never been. The rock against John's back is warm from the sun, which is slowly setting on the horizon.
He looks to Daniel. "I'm in love with you," he finds himself saying, and the other man smiles, watching him with two perfect blue eyes.
"I know. But it won't work out, you know."
"Why?"
"Because you still want the normal life that you cannot have." The doctor leans back against the rock, watching John out of the corner of his eyes. "That's why we fought, wasn't it? Because part of you still wants a little house with a picket fence and 2.5 children with Emma. You can't reconcile yourself to the responsibility that comes with your powers. The responsibility that I must take, in recompense for all that I have done to you, to everyone in this city. And so you and I will always be at odds."
John sighs, thinking back on everything, the fake memories of his childhood in Shell Beach, growing up, meeting Emma. And Daniel, always Daniel. Daniel and his single red rose. "I don't know if I can do it," he admits. "I'm afraid that if I alone took control of the city... that the power would corrupt me."
"No one ever said that you had to do it alone," dream-Daniel murmurs, his hand moving to cover John's where it sits on the sand, bringing with it a warm sense of comfort, of purpose. He smiles as John turns back to look at him, and leans into him to press a kiss to his lips, which doesn't feel like a kiss at all, but like a whisper of wind, a breath of hope, warm and golden and wholesome.
"I think," John murmurs, more to himself than anything else, "That it might be better to do things that way, after all. With you. Better than a white picket fence." And with the realization, his dream self relaxes, and slips back into the comfortable velvet darkness of a dreamless sleep.
Sacrifice
In his dreams, he meets with the Daniel from his fake memories, strong and whole, with none of the scarring that the strangers have inflicted on him. They sit together on the sand at Shell Beach, where Daniel has never been. The rock against John's back is warm from the sun, which is slowly setting on the horizon.
He looks to Daniel. "I'm in love with you," he finds himself saying, and the other man smiles, watching him with two perfect blue eyes.
"I know. But it won't work out, you know."
"Why?"
"Because you still want the normal life that you cannot have." The doctor leans back against the rock, watching John out of the corner of his eyes. "That's why we fought, wasn't it? Because part of you still wants a little house with a picket fence and 2.5 children with Emma. You can't reconcile yourself to the responsibility that comes with your powers. The responsibility that I must take, in recompense for all that I have done to you, to everyone in this city. And so you and I will always be at odds."
John sighs, thinking back on everything, the fake memories of his childhood in Shell Beach, growing up, meeting Emma. And Daniel, always Daniel. Daniel and his single red rose. "I don't know if I can do it," he admits. "I'm afraid that if I alone took control of the city... that the power would corrupt me."
"No one ever said that you had to do it alone," dream-Daniel murmurs, his hand moving to cover John's where it sits on the sand, bringing with it a warm sense of comfort, of purpose. He smiles as John turns back to look at him, and leans into him to press a kiss to his lips, which doesn't feel like a kiss at all, but like a whisper of wind, a breath of hope, warm and golden and wholesome.
"I think," John murmurs, more to himself than anything else, "That it might be better to do things that way, after all. With you. Better than a white picket fence." And with the realization, his dream self relaxes, and slips back into the comfortable velvet darkness of a dreamless sleep.