Our Pan

((Oh you are all so kind! I can't believe how people are willing to read this even though it's not moving by as quickly nor is it as smutty as others are. Thank you for your opinions and what you like and don't like. Please let me know! I love the comments. And it keeps the flame alive for this story which isn't burning as brightly as my last did.

:: Sasuke Fangirl #343: I must profess to being slightly confused and waiting for the characters to explain just why they're doing what they're doing. I'm glad you're enjoying it too!
::Hannah: *chuckles* We all love erotic dreams, don't we? There'll be more of that, if what I feel is coming up does happen! Yay!
::Haywire: Erk! Really? You do like it? *L* I've been on the verge of ditching this one and going to something else. But I guess that won't do, eh? Okay then! Another chapter for another amazing storyteller!

Thanks for reading, everyone!))

Our Pan

The Black Manor sits heavily beyond the town. Gabriel, standing at his window, a half ear listening to Mr. Nandy's description of his penile problems (an every other month occurrence), finds that though it is out of his sight, he imagines he can pinpoint its exact location.

"Wot'm sayin' is thet, hrrm, heh... the missus is on th'brink. Doctor, it's only 'er being insist'nt, y'see."

Gabriel, recognizing the end of a litany of excuses, turns from watching the horizon and picks up a pad. With a slightly furrowed brow, he scratches out a prescription and hands it to the red faced man. "Mr. Nandy, what you have is a basic aging problem. This is a full prescription and you may get it refilled. Please do that this time, won't you?"

Mr. Nandy turns redder if such a thing were possible and nods. "Erm.. eh... don't s'pose ye'kin work it out thet th'bottl's got nothin' on it? Th'Missus, s'not right for 'er to know sich things, course."

"I will speak to the pharmacy about that very thing, Mr. Nandy." Gabriel isn't in the mood for more of the hedging that he's going to get in order to enable this man to feel better about getting older. His mind is focused on other issues at present. And besides, the gals down in pharmacy will recognize Mr. Nandy and know first that he'll only speak to Dr. Thules and secondly, that he'll want it unmarked. Heavens but he should just set up an account under another name for Nandy. Let the man never have to come in again. It's almost as painful for Gabriel as it is for Mr. Nandy.

"Thenk'yee, Doctor," Mr. Nandy shuffles out of the office and Gabriel sits down at his office desk. Fingers on files, he stares instead out of the window.

"Doctor," Mrs. Vantage's voice interrupts his thoughts.

"Hmm?" He looks at her, his finger perched on his lower lip.

"Th'office is quiet, Doctor. And as my husband's got it into his fool head that he's going to try and clean the attic today, I'm going to take the rest of the day off, now."

Gabriel lifts a brow. "There are no later appointments?"

"None, Doctor. Now, here. We received a call from a Mr. Finn. He's stated that you'd agreed to a home visit." She arches a brow at him, obviously not appreciating the kindness of the deed. "I told him you had the rest of the afternoon off and would be over."

Gabriel stands, trying to keep his excitement to a quiet level. "Thank you, Mrs. Vantage," he says calmly, taking his bag off of the table beside him. "Well then, best be about closing up shop, shall I?"

Despite leaving early and having his bag alongside him, Gabriel finds himself dawdling rather than leaving town for the Manor. So it isn't for another hour until he closes the door of his car and begins to walk up the stone walk.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Chelsea," Christian Lowe smiles and tips his hat, thinks better of it and pulls the whole thing off, wiping his forearm across his brow.

"How is your back, Chris?" Gabriel asks and then frowns. He feels as if they've had this conversation once before.

"Muscle's back to working quite well, thank you. Master Finn will be grateful to meet you. I've told him to expect you," Christ nods amiably then looks at him with expectation in his green eyes.

"Has the father been by as well?" Gabriel transfers his keys from his hand to his pocket.

"Aye, been and gone, really."

"Well then, thank you."

"Certainly, sir," Chris nods then turns back to his weeding, refitting his cap upon his head.

Gabriel stares after Chris. Shaking his head, he finishes the walk and rings the doorbell.

Black eyes meet his.

"Mrs. Finn," Gabe bows slightly to her. The woman standing at the gate of Hell, he can't help but think. Her hair is dark and upon her head, spilling down across bare shoulders. "Going somewhere?" he asks politely.

"We have a dinner party," Mrs. Finn answers. "Won't you come in, Doctor Chelsea? I will get you some tea and you may sit in the sitting room." Her slender, finely crafted hand extends beyond her and into the dark recesses of the house, punctuated here and there by sheet covered objects.

As he steps in, he's surprised to find one of the objects uncovered. It is revealed as a statue of marble. A young faun dances in a slightly obscene manner, chest thrust out and small penis tucked against hair that begins at his waist. Arms are out on either side, as if he is reaching for something and the smile on his fine face seems too inviting almost.

Gabriel turns his eyes away, discomfited by the sight.

"In here, Doctor Chelsea. My husband is preparing for our dinner party."

"Actually, Mrs. Finn," Gabriel turns and blinks at her. She's more frail seeming now that his eyes are adjusted to the gloom. Her waist turned to a "wasp's waist" by some painful means, her eyes larger and darker if such a thing were possible. She smiles slghtly and he feels himself reaching for the tea in her hand. "Err," he says softly, "I'm here to see Mr. Finn's brother. He called me for this purpose."

"Ah."

He takes the tea and follows her into the sitting room. She stands beside a fireplace warm and beckoning and smiles. She is beautiful. He coughs. "May I see him?" he asks and lifts the tea to his lips.

"My brother?" comes the calm, commanding voice of the brother and Gabriel, startled at hearing it so close, spins and on accident, spills his tea over his chest. "Oh dear," Finn smiles, completely unrepentant. "Here, let me find something to clean this with. Do come with me. Martin is upstairs in the bedroom."

The words Martin and bedroom go straight to Gabriel's groin. He almost doesn't stifle a groan. He needs to get a firmer handle on reality. He is here to see a patient; an almost catatonic patient if truth be told.

"Truth is relative, dear Doctor," the murmur slides into his ear and he's not exactly sure who said it.

The stairs seek them out, embrace them, two pairs that curl down alongside a much grander foyer than he can remember seeing beyond the covered statues. They pass up the left side and Finn's hair glints with the flickering light from the candle lit chandelier overhead. Gabriel feels uncertain and he clings to the black bag before him.

They come to the head of the stairs and Gabe follows Finn into a grand hallway, richly velveted both on the walls and floors. There are no paintings, only gilt door frames and gilt candle holders attatched to the walls with candles, each lit and topped with a gold ring to keep wax from dripping. Each candle beckons like a finger as soon as Gabe has passed, lending a wavering light to his sides while before them remains quiet and set in stone.

"Here now," Finn smiles and opens a massive oak door. "Martin, you have a visitor," he beckons the doctor inside.

Gabriel steps inside and instantly is transported. The room has large floor to ceiling windows along one wall, one of which is open to the world beyond. Upon the landing outside large gardening boxes overflow with flowers and plants, the scent filling and cleaning the air of this room, making it feel as if one were walking out of the grave into life. Gabriel sighs in relief, his shoulders relaxing.

He has entered a set of compartments as there is no sign of a bed nor bathroom. This is, instead, a personal sitting room. They pass through this room, however, to a side door. And here the spell of life dies abruptly. Gabriel's breath hitches at the sight of the pale form stretched out upon the bed.

"I'll leave you, Doctor," Finn states and behind, the door closes, shutting out the last vestiges of earthen stained air.

Gabriel moves forward, feeling as if he were in a dream. Setting the bag down on the bed, he leans over Martin. The young man seems dead almost. There is a strong pulse however at his wrists and while his skin is chilled, it is not cold.

"Martin," Gabriel whispers, afraid to break the stillness, to capture attention from the dark, "Martin, can you wake for me?" he touches the shoulder yet there is no response.

Sighing, Gabriel opens his bag and begins to check reflexes, taking vials of blood, writing stats down on pressure, glucose levels, struggling to find anything to pinpoint why the young man laying on the bed is so still, so silent.

Glancing around him, he takes note of the lack of windows and sighs. If he were an old fashioned doctor, he might have.. insisted on fresh air. There seems to be an almost wrong scent to this air, as if it were keeping the emotions he should have felt dampened.

Should? What should he be feeling? Gabriel frowns and closes his bag, stepping out of the bedroom reluctantly and yet with a great deal of pleasure. To leave the room is a delight. To leave the man in the room is almost painful. He takes a deep breath in the clear air of the sitting room and looks at his bag and his hands. He's trembling.

"Doctor?" a young servant boy stands, hair black and red, the color of coagulated blood.

Gabriel starts and stares at the boy. Stormy grey eyes watch him, worry in them. "Yes?"

"How is he, sir?"

"I cannot say," Gabriel sits in a chair and takes a glass of water the boy holds out for him. He stares at the glass.

"It's from outside, sir. There's no spell to it," the boy reassures him. "Martin keeps a cistern outside to catch rain water. Though he's not drunk from it in a long while."

"Is there a difference?" Gabriel seems to not realize they speak of time after only a matter of days.

"Aye, course. It's the tea what does it, sir." The boy stares at him and then smiles, grabbing and stool and sitting down on it. "You're nice," he says with all of the innocent opinion of the young.

Gabriel chuckles. "Thank you. You seem rather nice yourself." And he knows he has said the right thing when the boy brightens, his eyes widening slightly. "Tell me, how long have you worked here?"

"Worked, sir?" the boy asks, confused. "Oh no. I live here, see. Always have. You know, you look a lot like one of my best friends. Have you met him in the village? His name is Rian Pander, but I call him Pan. If you haven't met him, I'll bet you've met my stupid kid brother. He's always getting hurt. I think he's best friends with the doctor in the village. Do you know the doctor in the village?"

Gabriel tries to make flying pieces of thought connect, yet they elude him. "I am the doctor in the village," he says softly.

"Oh? Well, maybe you know Pan then. He's younger than you, though. But he's got the same..." and the boy stands up and leans forward, touching Gabe's cheek, "... scar right here."

Gabriel's lips part and he swallows hard, touching his cheek where the boy's backed from. "I cut my cheek when I was a boy."

"Pan did too. He's a really all right boy. I have told him that we're going to go to London one day. He and me, err, that is, he and I." The boy smiles and stands. "Shall I show you out, Doctor?"

Gabriel stands, nodding. It seems he doesn't have much choice. This is one of the two steps back.

And where did that come from?

He can't recall why he wondered that when he's driving home. He's distracted by the itching on his chest where the tea stain has dried and scratches his skin.