That was one mystery solved. There were dozens to go, however.
The Doctor's outburst stunned Emil right out of his circle of despair. The blood rushing in his ears stopped, and it was just them, two lonely and desperate people hiding on the floor of an abandoned ballroom. Emil stared into the Doctor's face with wide green eyes, unable to look away. Ten wanted to fix him. Not some quick fix, not a lie, not... anything. Crane was never this passionate about wanting to help Emil; he only revealed the cool attachment one would expect from a therapist. An insane one, too. It was completely opposite from what Emil expected from the people around him.
"Doctor..."
He was well-versed in violence, the way that complaining would get him beatings from his uncle and aunt, so having anyone care about him to this magnitude was alien to him. Only Marta had ever really displayed that much passion. Richter cared about him, too, but he couldn't be sure how much. Emil wasn't that great at reading people.
So he had... one note from this strange boy who looked like him. There were more. He needed to find them now; he absolutely had to. But even if he did, he wasn't sure it would answer his questions. "I can't be that boy, though. I... remember my childhood. Where I grew up. And my parents. They were my parents, not someone else's. How can I be anyone else but me?"
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The Doctor's outburst stunned Emil right out of his circle of despair. The blood rushing in his ears stopped, and it was just them, two lonely and desperate people hiding on the floor of an abandoned ballroom. Emil stared into the Doctor's face with wide green eyes, unable to look away. Ten wanted to fix him. Not some quick fix, not a lie, not... anything. Crane was never this passionate about wanting to help Emil; he only revealed the cool attachment one would expect from a therapist. An insane one, too. It was completely opposite from what Emil expected from the people around him.
"Doctor..."
He was well-versed in violence, the way that complaining would get him beatings from his uncle and aunt, so having anyone care about him to this magnitude was alien to him. Only Marta had ever really displayed that much passion. Richter cared about him, too, but he couldn't be sure how much. Emil wasn't that great at reading people.
So he had... one note from this strange boy who looked like him. There were more. He needed to find them now; he absolutely had to. But even if he did, he wasn't sure it would answer his questions. "I can't be that boy, though. I... remember my childhood. Where I grew up. And my parents. They were my parents, not someone else's. How can I be anyone else but me?"