Dreams of Darkness and Light

Working title: Dreams of Darkness and Light
(part 2/2)


John arrived at the doctor’s office late the next morning to find Daniel with his hat on, just putting on his jacket. “Ah, John. Good morning. I am sorry– for the late notice, but I hoped- we could go... out?”

He smiled, finding himself more and more endeared by the Doctor’s mannerisms and personality quirks. “Sure. Where did you have in mind?”

“I was thinking– that we could, perhaps– go for lunch.” He gave what John almost thought was a cheeky smirk. “Your treat. And then– I will help you, if you like– to find the vaults. We can find- Anna’s record. I am very curious to– test the contents. See how they compare– against what she has told us.”

John agreed without any need for convincing, walking quietly along the street with Daniel, trying not to dwell over his dreams from the night before. It was so strange that he was sure it didn’t mean anything, not like Anna’s. Despite Daniel’s impassioned speech the day before, he still wasn’t even sure if two women could be lovers, let alone... let alone....

If Daniel noticed his brooding, he didn’t remark on it. But then again, they had slowly become used to each others' comfortable silences, without the need for small talk. “Do you mind– this cafe?” The doctor asks, snapping John out of his revere.

John shrugged, turning into the cafe. “I’m not picky, doc. But you seem to have quite the affinity for outdoor cafes.”

Daniel gave a soft, breathy laugh. “Yes, I– suppose I do. It’s the sunlight, you know. I have a lot of it– to catch up on.”

John found himself smiling as well. “I suppose that’s true.”

They sat down together and the waitress brought them tall glasses of ice water that began to collect condensation in the sun. John ordered a chicken sandwich and a milk tea over ice, unbuttoning and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt as they waited in the sun.

Daniel ordered ham on rye, sitting back and watching him with a little smile as the waitress left. “So nice to– be able to enjoy the sun.” He stood to take off his suit jacket, revealing a short sleeved shirt and shiny, mottled scarring on his right arm. The doctor followed the gaze of John’s eyes, giving him a little apologetic smile. “Their– idea of negotiating. My apologies. I will cover them- if you are squeamish.”

“I don’t mind,” John replied. The waitress that brought their food blanched, though, and John found himself strangely angry at her. He bit into his sandwich to take his mind off of it, watching Daniel, who, if he noticed the waitresses look of disgust, masked any sign of being affected. “Does it hurt?” he asked softly, finally.

Daniel glanced up from his sandwich though his wire rimmed glasses. “Oh. Not anymore. Thank you. They're old.”

John regarded his skin thoughtfully for a long moment. "I think I could fix them for you, if you like," he offered. "I can't imagine it would be much different from fixing Anna's papercuts.

Daniel looked a little surprised, but shook his head. "Thank you, John. I'm touched. But there is -- no need.

“What... did they do?” John can’t keep himself from asking, though the doctor takes it in stride.

“Fire, in this case. Which is also – how my lungs became scorched.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sometimes, I find it very strange– that I’m not dead.”

I’m glad you’re not, John thought, though he couldn’t quite bring himself to say it. “I dreamed about you,” came out instead, which, he thought on reflection, was probably worse.

Daniel snapped into Professional Psychologist mode almost immediately. “Really? Would you like– to tell me about it?”

John hesitated, his mind going back immediately to the main portion of the dream and quickly trying to decide if he could back out. “It... wasn’t really anything in particular....”

Daniel watched him, asking carefully, “Is it- bothering you?” He set down the other half of his sandwich, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his hands together in front of his face.

Yes, John refrained from answering. “No... it was just... very unexpected.”

"How did it make you - feel?"

John shrugged, idly drawing a pattern on the side of his glass in the condensation. “I’m not sure there’s much to talk about. It was just very real, that’s all.”

“Tell me about it? ... Please?” Daniel prompted again, gently.

John leaned back in his chair, letting out a long breath, carefully trying to sort back through the memories of his dreams without bringing up the uncomfortable memories of sex. “We worked together,” he said finally. “There were a lot of reports. And we went out to a restaurant together. I had squid ink pasta without knowing exactly what it was, and I was shocked when it was so black. You thought it was so amusing...” He paused, pondering the dreams. “You... called me Jason.” The news was a bit startling to him, and he looked up at the Doctor, hoping for some kind of answer.

Daniel stared at him silently, still as stone, his expression eerily neutral apart from a strange intensity in his eyes. “I see,” he said slowly, carefully, not moving his hands.

“Is... something the matter?” John asked carefully.

Daniel gave a quick, sharp little shake of his head, almost as if to clear it. “No, nothing wrong. Just very interesting that you– have another name. Any other– dreams like that?”

John shook his head slowly, his mind remembering the dream kisses before he could stop himself, and he hoped he didn’t seem too flustered. “Not really. Just more of the same. You liked marmalade on toast for breakfast.”

“I do like marmalade,” Daniel replied calmly, finishing the rest of his sandwich. “Perhaps you– know me better than I thought.” He gave a little chuckle, leaning back in his chair and sipping at his ice water.

John finished his food as well, feeling strangely as though he was missing some important realization, but shook it off, not wanting to dwell on things he wasn’t sure he wanted to understand. John left behind a few bills to pay and they set off silently, Daniel leading the way through the streets and alleyways, occasionally asking John a question here or there about the subtle changes he’d made. Finally they reached a brick wall, and Daniel turned to him. “Could you make a door here please, John?”

He obliged, and they slipped through quietly into the cold blue ruins of the Strangers.

It wasn’t as hard to navigate underneath the city as John would have expected. He hadn’t been down there since the Strangers defeat, preferring to work from the surface, being able to tap the machines' energy easily enough from anywhere in the city. There was a lift still sitting at their entrance, and he followed Daniel into it, controlling it easily to move through the shafts and tunnels of the city’s underground. He eyed Daniel, remembering his reaction to the flight. “Will you be all right?”

Daniel had turned to face him as the lift started to move, very carefully keeping his eyes on John’s face, his hand’s clutching the bars tightly. “Yes. Though I’ve never– liked these lifts, they are– necessary,” He said, voice a little tight with stress. “I think, sometimes -- that it amused them– how fragile we were. They were– virtually indestructible unless you– significantly damaged the head, or they encountered- too much moisture, or sunlight. They could– sustain a body for decades with– their power. They couldn't believe that humans were- so weak, and yet- still surviving. Turn left- at the next junction, please.”

As they moved deeper, the going was slower, rubble blocking their way. More than once John had to set the lift down to concentrate on clearing the path in front of them, trying to make sure it remained structurally sound. Finally they arrived at the top of a shaft to a room surrounded by rows upon rows of cabinets. John set the lift down and helped him off, taking him far back from the edge of the shaft and Tuning a railing around it as a bit of an afterthought. “These are all... records? Of the people here?”

The Doctor nodded, leaning down to get a closer look at the label on the nearest cabinet. “Yes. They were started, I think, before they took us. It seems – that there was certain criteria – to meet. And each file – updated, with every new imprint, every new set of memories.” He started down the row. “It is good that– you remember her name- in dreams. Otherwise we would – have a very long search.”

John doesn’t follow, staring at the cabinets until Daniel calls his name. “Daniel... is my file in here?”

He hesitated, then shook his head slowly. “It is... very unlikely, I’m afraid. The last I saw of your – record, it was in the – facility where the memories are stored. The facility was – destroyed before your final implant, when Book shut it down. And if it is not – there... Book moved the all strays – to another section, one that – I never saw. Hidden, confidential records. Probably, I think, my own as well.” He watched John, head tilting a little to the side. “I don’t– recommend you search for it, John. The past is past... you may not --like what you see.” He watched John nod reluctantly, and sighed. “I can’t stop you, of course. But if you do – decide to go looking, please respect my wishes and – don’t read my file.”

“I won’t.” John replied, giving him a reassuring smile.

When they found the section that Daniel was looking for, they went through three drawers of “Sarah” before the finally found Anna’s file, numbered #3853. There was a photo of her on the front, grainy like it had been taken through a telephoto lens. A much younger Anna, looking very much like John remembered her in his dreams. He Tuned a desk light into existence, and they set it on top of the cabinet, pouring over it together. It was mostly experiments – names, dates, situations, observations. Items that were needed for the scenario. Strange formulas, which Daniel explained were for building the memory cocktail.

Finally, at the very end of the file, was the girl named Sarah. It was strange, to read the Strangers detached observations. There was a photo on the page with part of the side ripped off, and he recognized immediately the people in the rest of the picture, the red haired girl from the bakery, who he was sure that he’d also seen in his dreams. The older couple were there as well, and the younger boy.

‘Name: Sarah Walker. Family unit of Toby and Janet Walker (unsuitable for experimentation). Age calculated at 18 rotations of the blue planet.’

There was a list of characteristics paired with numerical formula. A rating system, Daniel explained. There was a control group that had been taken; people the Strangers had decided would be unlikely to produce results, people who were labelled “sluggish and unresponsive to stimuli”. They were mainly used as filler characters in experiments - neighbours, employers, whatever was needed. Then there were the active experiments, subjects that passed enough of the criteria to be considered exceptionally individualistic and likely to produce results. Anna was one of those.

He turned the page. ‘Subject suffers from sexual dysfunction. Adversely affected by subject #3855. Recommend limited exposure during experimentation to prevent risk of deviant behaviour.’ He looked up at Daniel. “It’s true, then.” He turned the page back, pointing at the redhead in the torn photograph. “This is her, this is the girl in the bakery. They were lovers.”

“It– would seem so,” Daniel replied slowly. He took a seat on a low table beside the cabinet, quiet and thoughtful. “This is... very unexpected,” he said slowly. “And quite remarkable. To think that the human mind could protect itself well enough that... her memories are actually re-establishing things on their own.” He shook his head slowly. “Remarkable.”

“So what do we do?” John asked, turning to face him, leaning back against the cabinet. “We can show her this, can’t we? So she’ll believe that her dreams are true?”

Daniel watched him for a long moment. “I think... regardless of proof... she needs to come to that decision- by herself. She will decide if she will or if she won’t. But we will– take this with us. Just in case.”

John nodded, tucking it under his arm, and sat down on the bench beside Daniel. “Haven’t you ever wanted to look for yours?”

The doctor was quiet for a moment, looking out into the darkness and shadows of the files. “Tempted... yes. But also a little– afraid. Of what I might find.”

“Why would you be afraid?”

He looked over to John with an apologetic smile. “I remember enough,” he said simply. “Enough that I– I don’t think I want to– remember more. Unlike you, they– simply took my memories. Over and over. But I still remember– why I am here, why I... why I chose to do, what I did.” His smile grew grim. “It is how -– they kept me here.”

“What happened?” John asked softly after a long silence, watching him, hoping that the doctor would open up, some unfamiliar part of him craving the feeling of closeness, being able to talk openly about these things.

Daniel was silent for so long that John began to doubt that he’d answer, when he started to speak. “I remember... that I was this, when they– captured me. A clinical psychologist- scientist of– of the mind. That I ran a– a very successful research lab. And they brought me here with– with another scientist, one that– that worked under me.” He wet his lips, his voice even softer. “The love of my life.”

John drew a soft breath. “I’m sorry...”

Daniel shook his head absently. “I don’t– remember my lover. They took care of that. I just remember– that they tortured us both– attempts to recruit us, threaten us, to help them. Most of the– of the scars I have now, are from that time. Their Negotiations. Finally they– they gave me a choice. I could work willingly– for them, and they- would let my lover go, with new memories. To a new life. If I resisted... if I wouldn’t work for them, they would use the threat– of my continued torture or – death, to make my lover - do the work instead.”

John let his hand rest lightly on the doctor’s arm, feeling an empathetic wash of pain at his words. “I’m so sorry...”

Daniel turned to give him a brave little smile, eyes revealing the emotions his words covered up. “That is– all they left me with, John. The only memories. There is nothing– to mourn.”

“Don’t you want to find her?” John asked incredulously. “I’ll help you find your file, help you find her– “

Daniel shook his head again. “It is very kind of you– to offer. But neither of us would– know the other. Just two strangers in this– strange city. So I will be content- with the knowledge- that... once I loved, and was loved in return.”

John felt a strange twist of pain in his heart at the doctor’s words. “But Daniel... if Anna’s subconscious is really bringing back her real identity... couldn’t the same happen to you?”

Daniel turned to look at him, shifting a little in his seat, his eyes searching John’s hazel ones for a long moment, and John wondered a little at their sadness, longing. “No,” he said softly, finally. “Even if Anna is not– a fluke, an evolution– like you. I have many– many more chemicals in my mind– more than anyone else in this city. The strangers were– very careful with me. I don’t think my identity– could survive all of that.”

“Your personality survived. Your individuality survived. Your ability to– “ he stopped short. “-to feel. Even if the memories never return, what about meeting again? Romancing again?”

The doctor looked a little sad. “I think in this case... the memories are too important a piece of– the puzzle. But thank you. Thank you very much, John.”

John looked down, a little disappointed that he wouldn’t take him up on his offer. “Well... if you ever change your mind... please let me help. It’s the least I can do for you to repay you for your kindness.”

They sat in silence for a long moment, and he began to flip through the end of Anna’s file again. There were pages and pages of observation notes about her, notes on everything from her actions and the company she kept to the food she ate. He flipped back to look at the photo of her family, wondering at the damage, and read through the information again, turning to the next page. “Daniel... there’s a page ripped out.”

The doctor looked over. “It is common, if there was – a death, or a stray. Remove all sign, they thought – that it would taint the experiment. But no matter -- whoever that was, they cannot -- be in the city any longer."

“Or maybe it’s me. I dream of her, too.”

Daniel nods slowly. “It is quite possible. You caused them– a lot of trouble.”

John chuckled despite himself. “That’s an understatement.” he laughs, “Let’s get back outside to the sun.” They made their way to the surface again without difficulty, Daniel tucking Anna’s file inside his bag and taking it back to the office.


Anna adjusted better than John had expected, though Daniel didn’t seem surprised. She devoured his book, and was quoting random psychobabble at John before he knew it. A little more than a week later, and she had struck up a firm friendship with the woman from the bakery, whose name was Rachel, and John grew to expect her presence in the apartment, used to seeing the two women talk for hours.

If he’d thought that Anna’s thrice weekly visits to Daniel would stop with the addition of Rachel, he was wrong. If anything, it made her more voracious, more diligent in keeping the diary of every aspect of her dreams, discussing them heavily with Daniel. They talked about Rachel as well, sometimes, when Anna brought it up. She talked about friendship, but John could see from the way she smiled that her heart was slowly over-ruling whatever fear her mind had.

If Anna talked about her dreams even more, then John definitely talked about them less. Not that they were happening any less. The dream of being intimate with Daniel became reoccurring – not always the same situation, but always Daniel. They were difficult to wake up from, sometimes – his dreams- their being together, in love. It was hard to leave the emotions behind in dreamland, and waking meant the confusion of facing them. Still, he found himself making more excuses to see the Doctor, to go for walks, for lunch, for quiet afternoons at the riverfront, just overlooking the water in the sun while Daniel read beside him.

The Doctor tried to prompt John into talking about his dreams, especially when they were alone. But as he dreamed more and more, it became increasingly difficult for him to separate the remembered intimacy from the other details of his dreams, so more often than not, he shrugged it off, claiming that if he was dreaming, he didn't recall. Sometimes he tried to turn the tables on his friend, asking what he saw when he slept, but Daniel just laughed.

“Nothing so exciting as– as Anna,” he would reply. “I’m sorry to– to disappoint you.” And yet he seemed overly interested in John’s, which confused him. He was fairly certain that Daniel believed in Anna, believed that her memories were coming back. But when it came to John, he went from extreme interest to writing it off. Sometimes John wished that he’d just pick an angle and stick to it, so that he could either accept his own dreams, or dismiss them entirely. So that he could decide what to do about the warring emotions inside him.

But then again, he couldn’t really blame Daniel. Without the whole picture, how could he gain an accurate opinion? Without the intimate details, John’s dreams were disjointed, confusing. Not like Anna’s. Naturally, he couldn’t tell Daniel. He wasn’t even sure he could admit it to himself.

Regardless of his indecision, the dreams still came.


In his dream, he is at work, pouring over notes. Daniel’s voice behind him. “Time?”

They are alone in the lab. He turns towards the lab table where he stands, looking down at his watch. “Eleven fifteen.”

Daniel gives a nod, calmly taking a small notepad from inside the jacket of his coat, writing something down. “Five hours and twenty three minutes.” He pauses. “Sooner than yesterday.”

“Sooner?” He tilts his head to one side, giving him a quizzical smile.

Daniel rounds the lab bench, slipping his hand into John’s and moving his lips to brush his ear, his voice warm and husky. “Five hours and twenty three minutes since this morning, for me to feel like I can’t resist you any longer.”

He turns, nuzzling his cheek with a soft laugh. “An experiment? You’re such a psychologist.”

“Enthusiast of the Human Mind,” Daniel corrects him softly, smiling. “But... perhaps this doesn’t have to do so much with just the mind...”

His dream self feels a surge of desire, leaning into him. “Let’s take an early lunch.”

They make love in his office on the couch, silently, carefully, the secrecy making the sensations more intense. Clothes pushed aside to bare skin for the tease of each other’s hands and mouths, silent and intense passion and mutual pleasure.

They lay on the couch afterwards, somehow both fitting together on the cramped furniture without discomfort. “I love you,” Daniel whispers, and presses his lips to his head.

And John woke up to nothing but the lingering sensation of touch on his skin and the remnants of a wet dream.



Anna had plans the next morning, a day trip to Shell Beach with Rachel. John saw them off to the bus stop, and then kept walking, ambling with no particular direction in mind, enjoying the sights and sounds of the city in the early morning.

“John! Good morning!” John looked up at the familiar voice, realizing that his feet had automatically taken him past Daniel’s office. The Doctor had just turned the corner, a morning paper under his arm along with a paper bag, and he gave John a warm smile, a little surprised. “I’m sorry– were we to meet– this morning?”

John watched him silently for a moment, the way the sun played on his features, the hint of blonde hair underneath the chocolate coloured fedora. He could still hear the dream-Daniel’s voice murmuring endearments in his ear after sex, and he smiled wistfully without meaning to, realizing that he rather wished the dreams were real.

“John?” Daniel gave him a curious smile, still watching him, the prompt pulling him away from his thoughts.

“No, we didn’t have plans, I’m sorry. I just went for a walk... and it seems I ended up here.”

“Come up– for breakfast,” Daniel offered. “I have no plans– for this morning, if you don’t? The shop down the road– has excellent pastries. I insist for you– to try.”

John agreed, holding the door for him and following him up to the office. He took a seat and let Daniel fuss over the tea and pastries, happy to watch him, to think. The pastry was probably excellent– stuffed with egg and spiced sausage and cheese– but his thoughts were far from food. Maybe... maybe it was time to try and sort things out.

“I had another dream last night,” John said finally, seemingly out of the blue, and he heard a teacup clatter jarringly on its saucer from where Daniel was pouring tea at the desk.

“What happened?” The doctor asked, keeping his back turned, but his voice was completely composed, and if he’d been startled, John must have imagined it. He handed John a cup of tea, sitting down with his own in the chair beside John.

John sighed, looking down at his tea. Maybe it was a fool’s errand, trying to sort this out. His mind moved, unbidden, to the real focus of the dream– the desperate kisses and caresses, the touch and taste of the doctor’s skin under his lips. “We were having breakfast,” He said finally. “Tea, like we are now. And toast. You had it with... marmite, and I thought you were crazy. I burnt the toast.” He looked up to find an almost fond smile on Daniel’s face.

“It sounds- like a nice dream.” He replied, sipping his tea, but didn’t supply anything else.

“Daniel...” John stopped, giving a soft sigh. Today, it seemed, was the kind of day where Daniel would dismiss the dreams instead of encourage the memories, and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say, not sure how to broach the obsession that was slowly taking over his every waking moment. He switched channels. “Anna dreams about Rachel. We know that. Somehow she remembers things, specific things that are written in her records. There’s no way she could dream those by chance.” He looked up at the doctor, as if sheer force of will could make him remember as well. “If her brain is adjusting... if her original memories are seeping back... why couldn’t mine be doing the same?”

“John.” Daniel’s voice was soft. “I know you- want it to happen. But Anna is perhaps– just a miracle– it’s not normal. What you say you remember is not what Anna is experiencing.”

“I can Tune. That’s not normal. If I find my file– maybe it can prove things too, give me some answers...”

“John– I read your file, before when they- were hunting you. Many times. You were- you were never a psychologist.”

John froze, his teacup half way to his mouth, but his mind raced, its heightened activity searching through every conversation he’d had with Daniel since the dreams had started. Then he lowered the cup slowly, placing it back on its saucer and setting it aside on the small endtable before looking at Daniel, his voice low. “I... never said I was a psychologist.”

Daniel’s face drained of colour. “You– you said...”

“I said I worked with you. I never said what I did.” He was certain he had never said anything of the sort. Daniel must have gotten it from his own memories. And if he could remember that, then....

Daniel stood, the colour coming back to his face in a hot flush, but the look in his eyes was the same vulnerable fear he’d had when John had first met him, when he’d been a slave to the Strangers. “I - I assumed...”

“How would you assume?” John said softly, standing as well, slowly, trying not to be threatening.

The doctor shook his head, stammering a little on top of his laboured speech. “You– you know I’ve always- been a psychologist– so naturally–“

John shook his head, holding his hands out in front of him without thinking about it, almost holding his breath in his hope for... for what? “Why would you assume that would make me think I was a psychologist?”

“I meant to say– that you never worked- with me-“

“You’re skirting the issue,” John cut him off, frustration boiling up inside, breaking through the patience. “Why are you so afraid to admit that we could have known each other?” He moved forward, backing the skittish doctor back against the desk.

“We didn’t...”

John took him by the shoulders, knowing that he was being rough with him, not being able to stop himself in his anger. “Don’t lie to me! I know you remember me!”

“I’m not – I’m not lying...”

“Then why won’t you look at me?” He grabbed Daniel’s face with one hand, turning him forcibly to meet his gaze. But underneath the wounded fear, was something John Murdoch couldn’t place at first, something that slowly overcame the fear as John searched his face. Longing.

Daniel said nothing, but lowered his blue eyes, the half-lidded one almost closing as he let out the softest of sighs. It was all the invitation John needed to act on his dreams, leaning in to press his lips to Daniel’s.

For a moment, Daniel’s lips were soft, welcoming. For a moment he returned the kiss, and John detected a hint of desire, the shoulders under his hands trembling more than normal. Then the doctor’s lips hardened, pressing tight together as he jerked his face away with a gasp, his words hard. “Don’t project your desires- onto me! It didn’t– happen!”

John pulled back, the words slicing a raw well of pain into him, pain that brought helplessness- that brought anger. “... you’re lying to me.”

Daniel squirmed out of his grasp, sliding behind the desk and grabbing for his desk chair, sitting down weakly, seeming more out of breath than usual. “If things were—as your dreams say—why would I lie to you?”

John shook his head wordlessly, his body stepping back automatically, a little dazed. The anger ebbed slowly, and he found himself watching his companion, who sat quietly, staring down at his desk with his lips pressed firmly shut.

“You’re not lying, are you?”

“I’m sorry-- John,” The blonde replied, words a little more than a whisper. “I can’t.... I can’t give you what you seek. If you – if you truly dream of me – then it is my meddling – that caused it. Nothing more. I am truly – sorry. That I – did this – to you.”

John shook his head, emotions clouding his thoughts. “Don’t. I – I’ll go.” He turned for the door blindly, snatching up his coat, ignoring the doctor’s soft call as he left the office, shutting the door firmly behind him. He stopped, leaning back against the door weakly, a soft sound reaching his ears that he thought might be a sob. He pushed it away, walking home.


He has nightmares that night, nightmares he hasn’t had since he stopped sleeping with Anna. They are all Daniel this time. Daniel thrown to the ground beside him, bruised and bleeding, his right eye swollen shut. Lying next to him, his body nothing but the red hot sensation of pain. The vision in John’s right eye is tinted red, the spot above it on his head a white hot spike of pain, but he struggles to look at him. His hand reaches, strains to touch Daniel, and the other man awakes, gasping, hand finding and clutching his.

John whispers his name helplessly, and his eyes burn with tears. The blue eye that he can see tears as well, each breath that the doctor draws seeming to take all the effort in his body.

“I won’t- let them do this – to you--” Daniel manages finally, gasping. “I promise -- Jason – won’t let them – hurt you anymore.”

“I love you,” John whispers. And then the Strangers come, cold marble hands that tear them apart, surround him, and he’s sobbing, the pain in his chest eclipsing that in his battered limbs. He cries Daniel’s name, over and over, until the Strangers stab a syringe into his forehead, and everything goes black.


John awoke, not screaming this time, but in tears, his heart aching like the world had ended. The emotions from the dream mixed with the pain of rejection from the day before, and he broke down into sobs, alone where no one can see him. Alone in this city that he was master of, and yet entirely helpless to effect his own happiness.