Journey
folder
1 through F › Dark City
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
1,332
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
1 through F › Dark City
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
22
Views:
1,332
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 Empress: Doctor Daniel Poe Schreber
Tarot - The Empress
Doctor Daniel Poe Schreber
John hadn't been back to the city since he made Shell Beach, and he found it different and a bit strange in the sunlight. The buildings looked kinder, inviting, and a few plants and trees had begun to bloom on the boulevard. He began to improve things as he walked, something as simple to him as breathing - fixing cracked stone, giving new life to the struggling greenery as it fought its way back from a land of eternal night.
He reached the building where Daniel had his office, making his way upstairs. The waiting room was filled with boxes - some half open, revealing piles of dusty books. He regarded them curiously, then knocked lightly on the door to his office, the Doctor's name in neat black letters on the glass.
"Please leave the -- delivery in the waiting -- room," he heard the Doctor's familiar, halting speech pattern call from inside.
He knocked again. "Dr. Schreber? It's John Murdoch."
He heard a small crash inside, and a few seconds later the door opened. "Mr. Murdoch! I -- apologize, I wasn't expecting -- a visitor. Please, come in. My apologies -- for the mess."
The inside of Daniel's office looked very much like the outside - piles of books in various stages of cleaning and repair, slowly being loaded onto the towers of empty bookshelves that lined the psychiatrist's office. There was a large cage by the window, and he could see inside what looked like two very pampered white rats. "Please... call me John. It's too strange to hear you sound so formal after the memories you gave me."
The doctor looked a little surprised, and almost shy. "Of course - my apologies. Please -- feel free to call me Daniel -- if you wish."
John found himself smiling, somehow perfectly at ease with the doctor, despite the other man's skittish body language. "This is a lot of books."
"Yes, I - I have been collecting them -- from all over the city. They are -- one of the few things we -- have left, a -- key to the past, you might say. I wish to -- study them. And make them available -- to anyone with questions. Now that the city is -- free of the Strangers -- I hope that we can all -- regain our individuality."
John turned to look at him, the doctor's hands fidgeting a little with the pockets of his white lab coat, which was smudged with dust. "That's quite the undertaking."
Daniel was silent for a moment, then replied simply. "It keeps me -- busy."
John nodded slowly, still watching him, and was silent for so long that the Doctor begun to get antsy.
"Mr - John, what gives me -- the pleasure of your -- presence?" He asked finally, and John smiled.
"I want to help you, and the city. But I don't know where to start. I was hoping you might be able to guide me."
Daniel smiled suddenly, crookedly with twisted lips. It was nothing like the smiles he remembered from his memories, from the strong and confident teacher and friend, but John somehow found he liked it better. It was endearing. Real.
"I would be -- more than happy to, John."
Doctor Daniel Poe Schreber
John hadn't been back to the city since he made Shell Beach, and he found it different and a bit strange in the sunlight. The buildings looked kinder, inviting, and a few plants and trees had begun to bloom on the boulevard. He began to improve things as he walked, something as simple to him as breathing - fixing cracked stone, giving new life to the struggling greenery as it fought its way back from a land of eternal night.
He reached the building where Daniel had his office, making his way upstairs. The waiting room was filled with boxes - some half open, revealing piles of dusty books. He regarded them curiously, then knocked lightly on the door to his office, the Doctor's name in neat black letters on the glass.
"Please leave the -- delivery in the waiting -- room," he heard the Doctor's familiar, halting speech pattern call from inside.
He knocked again. "Dr. Schreber? It's John Murdoch."
He heard a small crash inside, and a few seconds later the door opened. "Mr. Murdoch! I -- apologize, I wasn't expecting -- a visitor. Please, come in. My apologies -- for the mess."
The inside of Daniel's office looked very much like the outside - piles of books in various stages of cleaning and repair, slowly being loaded onto the towers of empty bookshelves that lined the psychiatrist's office. There was a large cage by the window, and he could see inside what looked like two very pampered white rats. "Please... call me John. It's too strange to hear you sound so formal after the memories you gave me."
The doctor looked a little surprised, and almost shy. "Of course - my apologies. Please -- feel free to call me Daniel -- if you wish."
John found himself smiling, somehow perfectly at ease with the doctor, despite the other man's skittish body language. "This is a lot of books."
"Yes, I - I have been collecting them -- from all over the city. They are -- one of the few things we -- have left, a -- key to the past, you might say. I wish to -- study them. And make them available -- to anyone with questions. Now that the city is -- free of the Strangers -- I hope that we can all -- regain our individuality."
John turned to look at him, the doctor's hands fidgeting a little with the pockets of his white lab coat, which was smudged with dust. "That's quite the undertaking."
Daniel was silent for a moment, then replied simply. "It keeps me -- busy."
John nodded slowly, still watching him, and was silent for so long that the Doctor begun to get antsy.
"Mr - John, what gives me -- the pleasure of your -- presence?" He asked finally, and John smiled.
"I want to help you, and the city. But I don't know where to start. I was hoping you might be able to guide me."
Daniel smiled suddenly, crookedly with twisted lips. It was nothing like the smiles he remembered from his memories, from the strong and confident teacher and friend, but John somehow found he liked it better. It was endearing. Real.
"I would be -- more than happy to, John."