Bloody Oath

General Hospital

Chapter one

A/n: I, for one, thought Ewen Keenan was a really good character for Port Charles, a town badly needing psychiatric help. Turning him into this murdering henchman was not part of his character. Oh well. I guess I'll just have to make do on Fanfiction.

The first scene (the flashback), is somewhat word-for-word from Ewen's death scene. September 15 was Nathin Butler's last day playing Dr. Ewen Keenan.

This story is based loosely on the television show Supernatural's episode "In My Time of Dying" (season two, episode one).

There is a vague, slightly religious overtone to this story.

Summary: Ewen Keenan's body returns to Australia to be buried next to his family. However, Ewen's spirit is confined to the hospital until he can make things right with the man he wronged the most. He is invisible to all except Patrick Drake. Together, they work to find Robin with the help of the Scorpio family.

Pairings: Patrick/Robin, Robert/Anna, Ewen/Elizabeth, Steve/Olivia, Dante/Lulu

September 15, 2012—General Hospital, Port Charles, New York

"Steve..." Dr. Ewen Keenan, bloodied and bruised, pleaded with the doctor attending him. He knew he was dying. "It's too late. I…I heard what the nurse said," he cringed, shying away from Steve's rough touches. Ewen had kidnapped Steve's sister, and he wasn't letting Ewen forget how angry he was with him. "I…I heard what she said about my condition, I'm a doctor-"

"Doctors heal people!" Steve hissed, eyes ablaze with a fury Ewen was unaccustomed to. Steve was usually so calm and collected. He stared at Ewen's perspiring body and pained expression. "They don't hurt people." His voice softened. Ewen wanted to push Steve away and out of the room. He wanted to die. He was a horrible, horrible person.

"I know what it all means," Ewen pressed on, pushing through the growing pain in his stomach where Jason Morgan had shot him. "I'm dying. Surgery would be a waste of time!"

"We can still try…" Steve was unconvinced by the dying man's pleas.

"No! No…not today. There are people that need you more. Help them. Le-Let me go." The pain was almost unbearable, now. Every wrong Ewen had ever committed seemed to weigh above his head, taunting him endlessly. "Please," his eyes filled with tears. He couldn't decide if the things he had done made him cry or the bullet wound. "P-please, Steven. Look at what I've done."

Steve looked away. His shoulders slumped. Ewen knew he was a good man, and any hatred he felt towards him was pushed aside at his dying hour. He offered to call someone for him, to get a priest. Ewen swallowed hard. He stopped believing in God after his father lost his money and his family was forced to fend for themselves. He asked for one person, spitting his name out in his pain.

"Get me Patrick Drake."

Patrick arrived unsteadily, eyes as angry as Steven's had been. Ewen knew exactly why Patrick was so angry and sad. Dammit, he had taken his wife away from Patrick. He could not hope for forgiveness, but he hoped to make things right. Patrick had a right to know.

"Patrick…" Ewen started. Patrick stared at him dully. The sight of his bloodied body did not bother the neurosurgeon. "I'm so sorry."

Patrick did not want to listen to him. He turned to leave.

"R-Robin." Ewen fought through the pain. He was beginning to regret refusing painkillers. Patrick stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face the psychiatrist again. "Your wife. There's something…there's something you don't know." He was fading. The room became darker, a dark, heavy curtain seemingly falling over his eyes. He began to cough. Patrick was yelling at him, trying to feign anger of his worry for his deceased wife. "Robin…R-R-Robin…" suddenly, that was the only word Ewen knew. He repeated her name over and over. He couldn't see anymore, Patrick was simply a fading voice in the background of life. He was edging closer to darkness, but there was a light he couldn't quite place. He yearned for that light.

Patrick saw Ewen jolt upwards, a groan barely escaping his lips, and then he fell back down, limp. He was dead.

December 31, 2012—The Haunted Star, Port Charles, New York

"It's a wonder how I even got here, you know? So many patients…" Brit Westborne spoke to the bartender, laughing and flirting. Patrick Drake wasn't entirely sure if she knew she was flirting, but she was.

"You must be a very busy woman." The bartender poured Brit her fruity drink, winking at her.

"Well, of course, but I just had to spend the holiday with my boyfriend."

Patrick coughed, setting down his hors d'oeuvre quickly. Boyfriend? Maybe she was his girlfriend, but Patrick Drake did not assume the title of boyfriend. Brit glanced at him, to see if he was all right.

"Was it something I said?" Brit asked, eyebrows raised. The bartender walked away to attend to other customers.

"What?" Patrick cleared his throat. "No. Not at all."

"Do you want a drink?" Brit noticed. "Champagne? I'll get you some." Brit sauntered over to the bartender again. Patrick took his brief time alone to check his phone. Slipping it out of his pocket, the phone was already lit up before Patrick pressed anything. A picture from Sabrina of Emma, already asleep on the couch. It wasn't even eleven thirty. She still had her funky 2013 glasses on.

Great work, babysitter. Patrick texted. Tell Emma I love her.

Already did! Sabrina's reply came back seconds after Patrick sent the text. Patrick was a little surprised, but laughed it off. Sabrina was a nice kid, if not a little eager sometimes. She was good for Emma. Emma needed to have some fun on her first New Years without Robin. So did Patrick.

He had two missed calls from Steve. Steve and Olivia had been at the Haunted Star for a little while, talking with Olivia's son and daughter-in-law, Dante and Lulu, but they left early. Something could be wrong at the hospital. Frowning, Patrick pressed the callback button.

"Hey, no phones allowed, mister." Brit returned, ending the conversation before Steve even picked up. "You're having fun tonight. Which means no calling Sabrina."

"Now, why would you think that was Sabrina?" Patrick asked, smiling.

"I don't think, I know." Brit moved closer to him. "Emma is fine, she's a good kid. I want you to focus on me."

"That's a little selfish."

"I know." Brit leaned forward and kissed him. A soft moan escaped her lips, and she deepened their embrace. Patrick, however, felt nothing.

"Wow," Patrick spotted his wife, dressed and ready to go for their New Years date at the Metrocourt. She was stunning in purple. "You look gorgeous." He leaned in to kiss her.

That was 2010. It was almost 2013, and he was kissing someone else. What kind of husband did that make him?

"E-excuse me," Patrick pulled back, clearing his throat. "I…I…just one moment."

"Patrick?"

He was already out the door.

Looking out at the rolling waters, Patrick thought of Robin. His beautiful, wonderful wife. What would she think of him and Brit? Would she want him to be happy? Maybe, or maybe Patrick didn't want himself to be happy.

"Steve? It's Patrick." He held the phone up to his ear, pushing aside his incessant thinking. "What's up?"

"Patrick." Steve answered, a little sheepishly. "Listen, I'm sorry to do this to you tonight, but there's an elderly man who just came into General Hospital with brain swelling. He needs emergency surgery, and you're the most qualified. Have you been drinking?"

"No." Patrick shook his head. "No, I haven't. I'll…I'll be right there." He hung up and slipped on his coat, heading towards the docks.

"Patrick?"

Damn. He forgot about Brit.

"Brit," he turned around slowly. "Listen, I'm really sorry about this. I'm needed at General Hospital."

"Oh, of course you are." She looked down. "Good luck."

Patrick sighed. "Can I take you home or something?"

"No, no, I'm fine, really." Brit shook her head. "You go ahead."

"Yeah." Patrick looked away from her gaze. "Okay. Happy New Years."

He knew he was running away. He couldn't be happy with Brit and grieve over Robin at the same time.