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Threnody in Light and Dark
by castalianspring

Category: Slash, Angst, Introspection
Pairing: Andy/Harold
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Dedication: To HM, who got her first chance to take a turn at being the beta. Also, to the other fans of the Docslash out there, few as we are. Lastly, to Harold Abbott, who has completely captured my heart and attention.
Author's note: Be kind, this is my first real work of fiction. My beta assures me it is presentable. Comments and constructive criticism are welcome. Flames will be treasured as well.

[ * ]

Stained.

You are the fastidious one, as proper (if not as neighborly) as Mr. Rogers in your sweater-vests and crisply starched shirts. You arrange your medical supplies just so, and alphabetize your book shelves and spice rack. You take care of the family laundry, not because you don't trust your wife but because you simply do it better.

You always look your best. Neat and proper. After all, one must present the proper image.

Doctors must deal with less-than-clean situations almost daily. There are always runny-nosed children with coughs, the occasional episode of vomiting in your nice clean office, and blood, which is one of the hardest stains to remove. You, however, always manage to remove such stains, leaving the surface in question as pristine as is possible.

You are the conservative, the prim practitioner often labeled as obsessive-compulsive, yet you are the one most stained of all.

Confession eases the heart but a little. Neither priest nor patient judges you, your family peacefully ignorant of your sins, but now another knows and while he has yet to judge, it may tip the delicate balance of your interactions in the opposite direction from that which you so desperately want. Need. Desire...

Desire. Yet another sin, another stain. This you have not confessed to your priest, have barely acknowledged its very existence to yourself or to your God.

Dr Brown. Andrew. Andy. First threatened by, then competitive with your rival, you found yourself oddly pleased by his genuine, almost eager advances towards more than a professional acquaintanceship.

Friendship. It was not offered, yet still sought and slowly but undoubtedly won, until you found yourself secretly relying on those morning sessions of verbal banter, the enjoyable shared meals, the tellings of tales of the myriad medical emergencies only a small town can provide. You found yourself confiding details which no one else had heard from your lips, looking forward to learning more about him as well.

You want him to know all there is about you, to be stripped naked to the very core, until all that remains is the fundamental essence of being to be presented in hopeful offering. To be considered, even judged, all the while hoping to be found worthy. For someone to know the worst yet still offer the gift of love, this is your fondest dream, your deepest desire.

The sin is that you want that someone to be Andrew Brown. You wonder how many Hail Marys your priest would prescribe for this particular affliction.

You love your family, your wife and your children. Is it selfish to want to throw it all away in order to embrace the desires of your heart?

Even Andy believes you only see the world in black and white, but reality is oddly harsh and infinitely more stark with its shades of grey.

End

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