This story takes place after Todd has gone to Ireland and is presumed dead after taking a bullet meant for Patrick.
~*Ireland*~
He awakened feeling fragile and disoriented. He didn't even have the strength to lift his own head. "Lie still," a kind voice insisted. "You're going to be alright. I saved you."
He tried to focus on the face there before him, but his vision was blurry. "Who's there?" he asked, his voice unsteady.
"My name is Paddy," responded the fisherman who had rescued him from the Irish Sea. "You were shot in the back, but you are going to survive."
"Shot in the back?" he repeated in confusion as a frown came to his face. "Who the hell shot me?"
"I don't have any answers. I thought maybe you could tell me."
"I don't know. I - I don't remember," he replied, feeling panic in his own confusion. "My God, I don't even remember my own name..."
"You were gravely injured and you nearly died," Paddy explained. "Stay still. Your memories will return in time."
"No, it's important. I need to remember," he said urgently, attempting to rise from the bed, although his legs refused to cooperate. "I gotta go... I need to get back to HER."
"Who?" asked Paddy as he gently nudged the other man down onto the bed.
"I dunno... but she needs me..." he responded, feeling powerless considering his limbs were useless and his memory too had failed him.
"Well, whoever she is, you have to get well, so you can get back to her," Paddy spoke, pressing something into the injured man's hand.
"This is yours. You were clutching it in your hand when I carried you from the icy waters," said the fisherman. "How you managed to hang onto it in your wounded state, I'll never know. I guess it must mean a great deal to you."
The injured man managed to focus upon the chain now lying within his hand. A silver celtic cross glittered in the light. For just a moment, the tiniest fragment of recognition sparked within his eyes. "Courage," he said softly, unable to recollect a single solid memory except for a soft voice telling him that this cross he now held was his gift and it would provide him 'courage.'
"You'll be needing courage for sure..." said the Irishman. "...So you get well again and back upon your feet."
Knowing he had no other choice, the weakened man lay back in the bed. He held onto the cross, the only thing tangible he could cling to in a puzzling, uncertain world. *Who am I?* he questioned silently, but his impaired mind refused to provide an answer.
~*Llanview, Pennsylvania*~
Patrick Thornhart arrived in the states to pay his respects to Todd Manning's widow. Considering the bullet that had taken her husband's life had been intended for him, Patrick's heart was heavy as he arrived at the Manning Penthouse to offer his condolences. He had brought a beautiful bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase, thinking the gesture nearly futile considering all Blair Manning had gone through.
"Ohhh, who could that be now?" Blair cried out in annoyance, hearing a knock upon the door. Why didn't everyone just leave her alone and let her grieve Todd in peace? Why was everyone always hovering around and coddling her?
Blair went to the door, throwing it open. She saw a man standing there; a very handsome man with a chestnut mane of dark curls framing his oval face. "Ohhh hi," said Blair. "Who- who are you?"
Gently he pressed the bouquet of beautiful flowers into Blair's hand, a small smile coming to his lips. "My name is Patrick Thornhart," he answered, watching as almost immediately Blair went deathly pale. Wordlessly, she crumbled at Patrick's feet, fainting dead away as the flowers went tumbing from her hand. With a quick movement he reached for her, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. He realized the shock had been too much for her in her delicate state. Blair Manning was now six months pregnant.
As he held this gorgeous woman in the strength of his arms, Patrick looked down at her with concern. He carried her to the sofa and stayed at her side, softly coaxing her to awaken. "Todd," she murmured, as her eyes fluttered softly and then finally came open.
Gently Patrick stroked the blond strands of hair from Blair's lovely face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," he spoke, kneeling down at her side. "I feel responsible for what happened to your husband, so I had to come here and check to see if you are alright..."
"No, I'm not alright. I'm carrying Todd's baby. And now he's dead..." Blair said sadly. "And it is yours and Marty Saybrooke's fault. You... and that- that little bitch took my husband from me..."
"No, Blair. Please don't blame me... and you cannot blame Margaret. The Men of 21 were after me and they mistakenly shot your husband."
"Todd wouldn't even have been in Ireland if it wasn't for your precious Margaret! He'd do anything for that-that woman, even run off to another continent. I hate her! And I hate you, too!" Blair cried out as tears shone in her eyes. She began to sob brokenly, looking small and fragile despite her ferocious outburst. Hesitantly, Patrick reached for her, taking her into his arms. He enfolded her in his embrace, lending her his comfort and his strength for a moment as she grieved the father of her unborn child. "It's going to be alright, Blair," Patrick soothed. "I'm going to help you through this. I'm here..." Blair cried bitter tears as she buried her face in Patrick's chest. As he held her, she suddenly realized this was what she had so desparately needed, someone to embrace her and tell her that everything would be okay.
"Th-thank you, Patrick," she murmured, grateful to him for being there for her despite the awful things she had said.
"I'm sorry," she apologized as regret shone in her eyes.
"No need to apologize. I completely understand," he soothed as he continued to hold this beautiful woman close in his embrace.
"I had someone I loved I lost too once," he told her. "Her name was Siobhan. And everyday of my life, I miss her."
"You need to concentrate on your baby now..." he said to her gently. "I'm going to be here for you, Blair. I promise you."
Looking into his dark eyes, Blair knew he was telling the truth. Todd was gone, but Patrick was here. She was no longer alone.
"