Title: The Call
Author: Court
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A late night phone call could be the turning point for Patrick and Robin.
POV: Sometimes it's Patrick's, sometimes it's Robin's, sometimes it goes back and forth between the two. Marks will indicate a change, when necessary.
Author's Note 1: First of all, I want to thank everyone for their support on More Than a Memory. I'm going to use that one shot as a prologue to this story, since the very basis of this story stems from the ending of it. It will consist of 3-5 parts.
Author's Note 2: I know what you're thinking - first she says that she's going to continue MTAM, then she says she isn't and NOW she's writing a second part to it? Well, I wish I could tell you something more creative than the simple fact that I have a tendency to act nuts sometimes. Forgive me. LMAO!
Song Credits: "More than a Memory" by Garth Brooks.
() () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () () He was cold. Not the kind of cold that stems from lack of heat, making you crave a steamy cup of coffee or a toasty fireplace; the kind that makes you numb inside. It was like a part of himself was gone forever and it wasn't in his power to get it back. The sense of loss he felt only seemed to intensify each day, until there was nothing left but a hole. This hole could be filled by many things he knew, but nothing that would ever mount to anything meaningful. Because what had once been there was something that most people never got to have even once, and through the chain of shattered hope that was his life, he had failed to be stronger than his fears one time too many. There would never be another like her. He would never know the utter bliss of simply being with her, yet finding himself more at peace in those moments than any he had known in the days prior, when he was a content man walking around with a void in his heart. Now, having come full circle, he wasn't content at all. And what was once a void was now a piece amongst a thousand others, left shattered...broken inside of him. Their razor sharp edges had once hurt like the fires of hell, like a gaping wound left impaired. But now, there was nothing. Nothing at all. And he had only himself to blame for it. Sitting on the park bench he once shared with her, he recalls his own words that seemed to depict an ideal life for the both of them...together. Always together. It wasn't a perfect life, but the closest to one he or any other man could hope for. Yes, he had been on top of the world that day. Almost losing her and having her again...he felt blessed and thanked God for granting a desperate man's prayer on a darkened street one terrifying night. He had vowed to the Almighty and himself that he wouldn't let her go and that he'd always keep her safe, and now, nearly a year later - he had failed on both accounts. To be that man with that beautiful woman again...lazing around in bed doing a crossword puzzle, eating french toast and making love all day...to be there again...he'd trade anything. Give anything. Deep down inside, he knows this. But as the soft sprinkle shifts to a raging downpour of water from above, thunder thrashing in the air around him, he closes his eyes in defeat. The sun wasn't out, the sky wasn't blue and there were no flowers blooming around him. It was a harsh reality, but a reality at that: there was nothing to trade, because everything that mattered was her. She had been everything. His everything. The wind howls, the trees hiss and together they act as a song against the silence that has surrounded him since the moment she said goodbye. He rises, seeking shelter from the storm, the sheets of rain like needles on his body. It seems like hours pass before he happens upon a small church, the tiny structure appearing amidst the chaos as if from nowhere, for his own benefit. She would have liked this place, he thinks, instantly cursing himself and whoever else was to blame for the perpetual connection she seemed to have to everything both directly and indirectly involving his life. It was always about her, and it had been that way since she had burst through those OR doors and professed him to be her miracle. Like a shimmering, brilliant star, she had become the center of his world. And even though she was no longer his, that hadn't changed...and it probably never would. Imagining her fascination with the classic features and the story behind it she'd most likely make her mission to discover, he smiles to himself. The memory of her face in these moments would always bring a smile to his. Reaching for the handle on the left hand side of the set of doors, he pulls and is met with resistance. Trying the other side, he's met with the same fate. The towers of oak seem to mock him as the rain shows no signs of letting up, but he refuses to give up. Walking around the side, he happens upon a window. Luck ever on his side, the small frame would barely fit a child, much less a tall man. But the whispered sound of music soon reaches his ears, and instead of walking away, he allows his curiosity to guide him. Wiping first at his face and then the foggy glass before him, his vision remains blurry, but the canvas set before him is mainly clear: a wedding was going on inside. About fifty or so guests sit in the modest yet magnificent room, set aglow by dozens of tapered candles scattered throughout the space. Countless flowers kissed by a rainbow added charm and elegance to the floor, the altar and the empty threshold that would soon frame the bride. Though he can't make out their faces, he can't seem to tear himself away from his spot, outside looking in. It's a mere moment before the guests are rising to their feet, turning in the direction of the doorway for the first glimpse of the lady of the day; the lady in white. His gaze starting at the ground, the tips of her shoes peak out with each unhurried step she takes, two other pairs of black in plain view on either side of her. The candlelight creates a shadow in the folds of her dress, the gentle v of her skirt flowing like satin pearls. Both of her arms are tucked into another's, guiding her down the aisle to give her away. Her smile is exquisite...familiar. Her face...her face... "Robin," he mutters in disbelief, placing his hands on the window and leaning in closer. Unlike the others, he could see her lovely features as he had almost everyday for the past two years of his life. The dark, silken hair that he had ran his fingers through at every opportunity was down and twined in soft waves, a red rose pinned near her right ear. The rich, glorious brown eyes that had once told him more than her words ever could glittered with unshed tears of happiness. The ravishing smile that lit up her whole face and once teased him before a sweet or sultry kiss now beamed at the faceless man at the altar that wasn't him. The love of his life was about to marry someone that wasn't him! Suddenly, as if he were a snow ball that had been tossed into a fire, panic sets in and all he can think is that he is watching the end of his life happening right before his eyes, and he has to stop it. Starting with his hands, he begins to pound his open palms against the window with all his might. "Robin!!!!!!!!! Robin, don't do it!!!!" But she doesn't stop. It doesn't stop. It just keeps going and it's as if no one is hearing him. His protests go unnoticed, and he watches in horror as Robin looks to the faceless man and begins to speak her vows. "ROBIN STOP!!!!!!!!! ROBIN!!!!!!" His heart racing a mile a minute, his blood roaring in his eardrums, he wails into the night, the faces in the church slowly coming into view, one by one. "MAC!!!!!!!! ROBERT!!!!!!!! ANNA!!!!!!!!! PLEEEEASSSSE SOMEBODY!!!!!! DON'T ROBIN, PLEASE!!!!!!! I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!! I'M SORRY!!!!!!! DON'T DO THIS, ROBIN!!!!! ROBIIIIN!!!!!!" The agony of what felt like his worst nightmare becomes a pain so intense that it cripples him, and he can no longer fight against the torture of it all. The words trapped in his throat, tears and raindrops beading his face...he has no choice but to surrender. Wincing as the faceless man bends down and captures his Robin's lips in a kiss that makes her officially not his - but another man's - he still can't bring himself to look away. Perhaps it's because he needs to know the face of the man that took what mattered most to him...his Robin. The time comes at last as Robin takes her new husband's hand and turns her head to meet his eye through the barrier of the window. As he suspected, the man he would now and forever dub his worst enemy looks towards him as well. The man was Patrick Drake. The man...was him. Shooting up in his bed, drenched in sweat, Patrick feels as though he's run a marathon. Every night this happened. Every night since she left him. The dreams were always different, but this one definitely stood out, above the rest. It was true that he had already lost Robin, but as long as she was still out there and he was still out there and they were both unmarried...there was still a chance. He wasn't an expert on the subject or anything, but he knew that what they had was something that only happened once. He wasn't naive enough to believe that he could find that kind of bond with another person ever again. He had simply resigned himself to the fact that he would have to live life as he once had, before Robin. Because nothing would ever be better than the life she had shown him; the life they had experienced together. He had told her that on more than one occasion, and he had meant it. Kicking the sheet away, he swears. He blamed the bed. It held too many memories. This apartment held too many memories. After all, she had picked it out for him, as well as the furniture in it. And the damn couch was even worse! It would be impossible to count the number of times they'd made love on that couch...the floor...the kitchen counter...the kitchen floor...the bed. Back to the blasted bed. How could he sleep in it and not think of her? Be haunted by dreams of her? Of what might have been? Of what should be? It didn't matter where he was, though. She was always with him. No matter what he said about their breakup, about how he was moving on...it just wasn't true. No amount of time or meaningless flings could erase her from his heart...his mind...his soul. The guilt nagged at him relentlessly...it was his fault. And he knew that the ball was very much in his court. If he would stop being a selfish, scared moron for two seconds and get over himself, his ultimate fear of crashing and burning - of failing like his father - he could have it all. He knew it, and he still did nothing. But as his latest dream had pointed out to him, Robin wouldn't wait for him forever. She would never admit it to him or maybe even herself, but she still loved him, too. And she was still hoping that he would go out on a limb for her and be the man she wants him to be...needs him to be...a husband to her, and a father to their children. Yes, he was a coward, indeed. Robin deserved better than him. But even as he claimed what he always felt in his heart to be true, the selfish guy inside of him knows that even that isn't reason enough for him to make himself fully let her go. Robin had taught him to live through his heart instead of his ever brilliant mind, and Robin was his heart. Without her, there was no true life to be had. Even a career as one of the top neurosurgeons in the country wouldn't fulfill him in the ways it once had. His perspective had been changed. Love is all that matters - that's what he had started to believe. But if that were true, then why wasn't Robin with him now? Why was he alone in what he had come to think of as their bed for months? Why couldn't they just be together and not think about the future so much? Logic told him he knew why. Dropping his head between his knees, he breathes in and out, trying to calm himself down and force the tears that are threatening to spill over to disappear. Looking up, he gazes at their picture across the room, sitting atop his dresser. It wasn't a special occasion, just an ordinary day. Well, ordinary for them. It was one of those Sundays where they'd spent the day alone...that particular day in bed mostly. Pressed cheek to cheek, their smiles wide and eyes dancing with laughter, he remembers and cherishes that moment and all those before and after that he spent with her. And he yearns for more. Reaching for the phone, he dials her cell phone number with every intention of telling her just that, but stops himself before he hears the connection. She'd probably just hang up on him anyway... Or not. Hitting the redial button, he waits...and waits...and waits. As her voice mail picks up, he listens to the cheerful sound of her voice, finding comfort in that unintentional gift alone. Debating with himself on whether or not to leave a message, he finds himself speaking the words he felt but couldn't or wouldn't say to her face. "Robin, it's Patrick. I don't know if you missed this call or if you ignored it..." looking towards the clock, he sees that it's after three, and groans, "by the timing, I guess you're sleeping. I'm calling because...I can't...I can't sleep. The truth is, I haven't had a good night's sleep since the last time you were here with me...and I keep dreaming about you. I was looking at our picture...the one on the dresser...we were really happy, weren't we? How did we lose that? I don't know...I just...I needed to talk to you...my best friend. My only real friend. I just...needed to hear your voice, Robin. I just...miss you. I love you...I love you." Whatever words he had left say went unsaid as he pressed the off button on his handset. His tears never went away and now left stains on his cheeks, his tongue tasting the salt of them as he bites his lip to stop it from trembling. Placing the phone back in it's cradle, he stretches out once more and adjusts the blankets over his lower body. Rolling to his side, he takes what used to be Robin's favorite pillow and wraps his arms around the plush object...instead of Robin. The intoxicating scent of her still remains, a delicious mix of vanilla and roses. No one could ever be what Robin was and still is to him...and he didn't want them to. He just wanted Robin, because he was lost without her. His home was no home without her. She was his home.
Prologue - More Than a Memory
People say she's only in my head
Gonna take time, but I'll forget
But when she's in every minute of every day
Every thought I think
Every breath I take
She's everywhere and she's everything
She's more than a memory
Part One: I Don't Want to be a Spinster!
Steam lingers in the air, licking the walls of the small bathroom, the beads invisible to the naked eye, overshadowed by darkness and soft flecks of candlelight. The space was immaculate, just as the rest of her apartment was. No shaving cream remnants on the sink, no towels on the floor. Scents of lavender and honeysuckle tease her nostrils, as opposed to the rich, heavy scent of cologne. The stereo whispers tunes of classic rock, sitting atop the small wicker table beside one candle…one towel…one glass of wine. The magnificent tub cradles one person…her. She, Robin Scorpio, who six months ago had been surrounded by two's was now drowning in one's. Even this personal treat that had once provided solace was now a mere reminder of just how alone she had once again become. Perhaps it was because taking baths and showers together had become part of their routine. It was usually one or the other, everyday, for as long as she could remember. Or maybe it was simply because they had a morning ritual in their much larger bathroom…his much larger bathroom. They'd brush their teeth, then he'd assist her with taking her meds, while she'd lather him up for a shave. Yes, that was it. That was why she was thinking of him now, doing anything but relaxing. "Jerk," she growls lowly, bringing the chilled white wine up to her lips for a taste. Six months, and he was still with her. Still in her thoughts, still shaping her heart. And the worst part about it was, he had become her friend before they had become lovers. He had become her…person. Her confidante. In breaking up with him, not only had she lost a boyfriend…she had lost her best friend. Apparently, judging by the message he had left her not so long ago…he felt the same way. That message. That lovely…wonderful…beautiful message. The vulnerability she'd heard in his voice those few moments had brought tears to her eyes…made her weep. It was a vivid reminder of why she had fallen in love with him in the first place…as if she needed one. She'd felt adored…safe in his arms, in his eyes. It was a feeling she'd experienced before…but not really. With Patrick, it was different. It was a happiness that surpassed her wildest dreams, even on the bad days. Perhaps that was because even when they were less than friends…mere coworkers, acquaintances…he fought for her. He never gave up on her. He was relentless and arrogant and refused to leave her to fall back into a life that, career aside, added up to just about nothing. And for all the times that she'd acted as though she didn't believe in him or trust him to stay with her…that tiny voice inside of her reminded her of those things. It reminded her of the fact he so desperately wanted her to believe: he wouldn't abandon her like the others. But he had abandoned her. No…they'd abandoned each other. Sure, she'd said the words. She shattered his heart, and he shattered hers. Not with lies, not with betrayal. Just the truth. That ugly, unfair twist of fate that was destined to keep them apart then, now and always. Different dreams…different life goals. To her heart, it all sounded like a bunch of bullshit, but in her mind, the part of her that was logical…it just couldn't work. They were fundamentally incompatible, as she'd always told him. Well, at least in the most important way she could imagine: she wanted children, and he didn't. When neither one was willing to budge on the issue, how could they move beyond it? Compromise? Closing her eyes with a shudder, she tilts her head to the side and bites down on her lip that has taken to a slight tremble. Upon reopening them, she catches a glimpse of her silhouette, turning away quickly to abolish the image that was not of herself and the man she loved. Never again would she look to the walls and see her shadow tangled with his. Never again would she feel the marvelous felicity of lying against his chest, wrapped in his arms and treasured by his lips, his hands…his heart. A sudden wave of cold rushes over her, and she scrambles to get out. Grabbing for her towel, she folds it around her body and knots it in place. She yanks the chain to drain the water and blows out the candles placed throughout the room. Near empty wine glass in hand, Robin pads her way to her dresser, and automatically picks out a fresh pair of underwear, sweat pants and one of Patrick's old t-shirts she'd come to possess somewhere along the way, in the past two years. Dressed comfortably, she walks into her kitchen and washes her glass, leaving it to dry on the rack beside her sink. Opening her freezer, she grabs a pint of Ben and Jerry's, a spoon and moves to flop down on her couch. Taking that first delicious bite, she turns her gaze from the boring sitcom on her TV screen to her coffee table. There sits her remote…and her cell phone. The cell phone with Patrick's voice mail from two months ago still on it. The voice mail that she had yet to delete, that she listened to at least once a day…though she'd never admit it to him. Decidedly swiping up the remote, she takes another bite and stops at the sight of Renee Zellweger and Colin Firth in one of her favorite movies, Bridget Jones Diary. Funny and romantic, just what she needed to relax…not. Grabbing her cell phone, she punches a few buttons until she hears the voice of Dr. Kelly Lee on the other end. "Kelly, I don't want to be a Spinster!" "Robin?" Kelly's confused voice comes through the speaker, making Robin giggle. "I'm sorry! Yeah, it's Robin." "What did Patrick do this time?" "Nothing…everything. What else is new? I mean, gosh, Kelly - I just wanted to take a bath! You know, have some wine, soak in some bubbles, forget my troubles? But I kept thinking of Patrick! I kept thinking of him and all the different ways we used to be together in the bathroom -" "Whoa - too much information!" Robin laughs. "This coming from YOU? Seriously? Anyway, I was talking about brushing our teeth and him helping me with my meds, not sex on the counter! I mean, that happened, too, but -" "Stop!" " I know, I know. Too much. It's just - GOD! He's - EVERYWHERE! Kelly, he's everywhere! He's at work, he's at home. And he's never even been to this apartment! Which, by the way, sucks! I mean, I'm the one that picked out his apartment! That thing is a palace compared to this hole in the wall! I think he should move out, and we should trade apartments, that's what I think! It's only fair! Am I right?" "Honestly?" "Yeah?" "I think that you 'hate' your perfectly acceptable, perfectly nice apartment because you miss your home aka Patrick's apartment. That's why it took you four months to decide on a place." Torn between being amused and suspicious, Robin shakes her head, as if to clear it. "Hold on a second - is this really Kelly, or did I dial Lainey by mistake? Or is she just listening in and feeding you lines?" Laughing, Kelly replies, "No, it's me. I guess our Dr. Winters is rubbing off on me - we've been hanging out a lot. She's the only person I have to talk to anymore, you know. My good friend Robin is always working or hiding away in her pathetic little apartment." "I know," Robin groans, slapping her forehead in dismay. "I told you, I'm going to be a Spinster! I'm going to star in Bridget Jones Part Three, only it's going to be called Robin Scorpio and it's going to suck, because sequels always suck! And I'm going to gain thirty extra pounds, stuffing my face with Patrick's favorite ice cream! I'm going to turn into a Chunky Monkey! And I won't have two hot guys fighting over me, either! I mean, Hugh Grant was a douche bag, but he was still cute. Kind of like Patrick. UGH - it always HAS to go back to Patrick, doesn't it? He's such a jerk! But I love him anyway. Does that make me crazy? Does it?!" Met with nothing but silence, Robin checks the screen on her phone to check for a dropped signal. "Hello? Kelly?" Suddenly, a high pitched sound burns her ear and she pulls her phone back. "Are you LAUGHING?" "No," Kelly poorly fibs, choking on her giggles. "You are! You're laughing at me!" Robin fumes. "I knew I should have called Lainey!" "You're right," Kelly agrees, her laughter dying down. "I love you, Robin, but you should hear yourself! Maybe I should record it, then play it back for you sometime. That would probably cheer you up!" "You're out of your mind!" "Well, I guess that makes two of us, then." Grinning, at last finding the humor in the situation, Robin agrees, "Yeah." "Robin?" Robin notices that Kelly's voice appears more serious, and listens intently. "Yes, Kelly?" "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, or how to feel, and I know that this isn't what you were hoping to hear when you called me up, but…" "What?" "What you and Patrick have…it's special. It's not one of those cheesy, unreal fairytale loves that you see in movies or on Lifetime Television…it's real. It isn't easy. When you guys fight…you rip each other up real good. But when you love…that's something pretty great. And I'd be lying if I said I'd ever seen anything even remotely close to it, even in dealing with babies and parents everyday. There's a respect and an understanding…like something inside both of you knows that you're supposed to be together. And I think…that's why it's so hard. It's why neither of you can move on. So, if there's a way - any way that you two can work this out…stop being stubborn. That goes for Patrick, too. Do it for yourself. You told me once that Patrick not only gave you back your life, but he made it better than it ever was before. That's not something that comes along everyday, or even more than once in a lifetime, Robin. So, fight for it. And do whatever you can to make Patrick do the same. Otherwise, it just makes you both fools." Rendered speechless, Robin can only think of two words to say as Kelly's wisdom begins to sink in. "Thank you." Smiling, Kelly teases, "I'd say anytime, but I'm better at the fun stuff. Gossip. Lick It, Slam It, Suck It." "I think you're better than you think you are," Robin challenges fondly. "Night, Kelly." "Night, Robin." Hanging up, Robin navigates to her voice mail, and listens to the one saved message in her box. Allowing his voice to comfort her, she finds herself whispering his final words, tears staining her cheeks…coating her lips as she does. "I love you…I love you." Two hours later, Robin finds herself backpedaling. After talking to Kelly and listening to Patrick's message for the fiftieth time, she turned the television off and headed to bed. Alas, sleep refused to come. She tossed and turned and couldn't shake off the sounds of her friend, nor her ex. Jumbled together, they quickly began to drive her crazy. In a fit of annoyance, she'd kicked the covers away and stalked back into her living room. For the past ten minutes, she'd been in the same spot, pacing the floor in front of the small table that held her house phone. She'd stop, look at the phone for a few seconds, then begin pacing again. To call him…or not to call him? Making up her mind, Robin takes the handset in both hands and dials his number. When it begins ringing, she raises up on her toes and bends her knees, one at a time, releasing her nervous energy…waiting. The second he picks up, she hangs up. Still holding the phone in her hand, she curses herself for acting so stupid. And it only gets worse when a mere ten seconds later, it begins to ring. "Shit," Robin moans, holding the phone up and away from her, willing it to stop. But it doesn't, and when the machine clicks on, Patrick's voice comes through - panicked and demanding. "Robin! Robin? Are you there? Are you okay? Are you hurt? If you can hear me, please pick up! I swear, I'll come over there -" Eyes widening in alarm, Robin interrupts his rant by pressing the power button. "Patrick, Patrick. I'm here! I'm okay! Don't come over!" "Thank God!" He sounds relieved at first, but then spits out harshly, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack or something? There's a damned serial killer on the loose and you're calling me in the middle of the night and hanging up without a word!" "I know," Robin sighs, thinking of Georgie and Emily for a brief moment. They'd lost their lives, their chances at happiness and love through no fault of their own, and here she was alive and in love, willing to throw it all away because the man she loved knew what it was like to be abandoned too, and couldn't give her what she wanted as a result. Or wouldn't. Did it really matter? It didn't hurt any less either way. "I'm sorry." "Me too," Patrick echoes, his voice normal, softer. "I didn't mean to shout. I just…worry. It's not the same when I'm not there to protect you all the time…not that I was ever good at that when we were together." His reference to the MetroCourt disaster makes her frown. "That wasn't your fault, Patrick. Nothing that Craig ever did was. It was all him." "I wish I could believe that as easily as you, but since we're clearly never going to agree on it, I guess we should just agree to disagree." "Fair enough," Robin concedes. "So…why did you call?" Tossing a throw pillow onto the floor, she props it against the side of the couch and sits, legs out in front of her. "I was just returning your phone call…" THANKS FOR READING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!