Title: Distorted Mind by Athena13 & Pugmom
Category: TV Shows » General Hospital
Author: Athena13
Language: English, Rating: Fiction Rated: M
Genre: Drama/Romance
Published: 02-27-07, Updated: 07-01-07
Chapters: 6, Words: 15,074
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Distorted Mind
By Athena13 & Pugmom
Genre: Drama/Romance/AU
Rating: Adult
Author's Note: This is the long-long-awaited sequel to our previous story a href="/purple_ "Distorted Fear/a. We've been working on this (slowly) for months now, but life has been getting in the way. We just got our act together and were planning to post next month when we had more written, but then we got some GH spoilers that make it appear that GH writers have been spying on us so we thought we'd best get this posted before it seemed like we copied them. I swear, we've been planning one of these bombshells since last fall! We'll probably be posting updates to this story about once per week. We hope that you enjoy. This continues where the last story left off, about October 2006.
Chapter One
Moral relativism is a pseudo philosophy that recognizes no absolute truth other than the subjective interpretation of what is right by individuals to suit their selfish purposes. By this definition, it removes the stigma associated with lying, cheating, and stealing. Or with kidnapping, graft and corruption, and accepting…payoffs. All that matters to those who deny moral excellence is the happiness of evildoers, and they couldn't care less what great harm their self-centeredness has inflicted on others./i
From Gloria's Not-so Secret Weapon by Alan C. Robles
The first few flakes floated from the sky timidly. Quickly though, the snow seemed to pour from above, sure in its purpose. It was the earliest snowfall Port Charles had seen in 25 years and most of the citizens had been caught unaware. Jason looked over at Robin, tears silently rolling down her cheeks as she looked out the window at the quiet winter scene.
"Stone loved the snow. If he could have just held on a few more days-," her voice cracked and she couldn't finish the thought. She shook her head slightly and looked at her friend. "So, what did you bring?"
Stone had only been gone for a week – 9 days actually, and worried about his friend, Jason Quartermaine had headed over to the Scorpio house with storm supplies.
"Well," Jason smiled. "Dad sent me over with some firewood and I packed up some leftover turkey sandwiches Cook made." Jason rooted around in the bag and pulled out a box with a flourish. "And you can't get snowed in without hot chocolate and marshmallows."
Robin laughed. "No, of course not."
Jason continued to unpack the bag and snuck a quick glance at her. "So. How are you? Really?"
"Really?" Robin let out a long held breath. "Really, I'm a mess. I don't know what to do now. Without Stone, I feel lost." Jason held out his hand for her and she took it. "Jase, I'm finding it hard to know what to do next. Is there anything next for me?"
He pulled his friend close and hugged her. "There's a lot of "next" for you, Robin."
"Time went so fast for Stone. One day he was fine, the next he was dying." Robin swiped at her tears angrily. "Now he's gone. And he's left me all alone."
"Hey! You're not alone. You'll never be alone."
Robin looked up at him with a wry smile. "I'm always alone, Jason. I always end up alone." She pulled away from him and walked over to the sandwiches on the counter, unwrapping them. "I'm sorry. Ignore me." She pulled out plates and mugs, keeping her hands busy. "Isn't it funny how we spend our childhood trying to be grown-up? I would give anything to be a kid again. To feel that carefree and innocent. Not that being a Scorpio buys you a lot of innocence."
Jason leaned against the counter watching Robin put together their lunch when suddenly he walked over to the coat rack and grabbed their jackets. "Here, put this on." He shoved a purple and cream parka at her.
"Jason, it's really coming down outside. I think we should stay here."
"Just trust me," he said, pushing her out the door.
Outside the silence wrapped itself around them. Closing her eyes, Robin shoved her hands in her pockets, and lifted her face up to the snow. "It's so peaceful." She opened her eyes and looked around Mac's backyard. "It looks like we've gotten at least 6 inches already."
"At least," Jason said. "And we're going to put them to good use."
Robin held up her hands. "Uh, Jase? I'm not having a snowball fight with you."
"Not what I had in mind," Jason said. "Now, get on the ground."
"Excuse me?" Robin laughed.
"My favorite thing to do when I was a kid was to make snow angels. A.J. always wanted to go to the top of the highest hill in our yard with the latest and fastest sled, but me? I just wanted to lie down in the snow, looking up at the sky and make a whole heavens worth of snow angels."
Robin smiled the first, genuine smile she had in days and dropped to her knees, throwing herself backwards into a fresh pile of powder. "Get down here, Quartermaine!" Robin pulled on Jason's leg, urging him down to the ground next to her. Her laughter was infectious, and Jason found himself laughing with her on the frozen ground, their arms and legs swishing through the snow wildly. Suddenly she stopped. "Look at it Jason. It's so beautiful."
Jason turned his head to see Robin looking at the sky, tears escaping but still smiling, her eyelashes catching snowflakes.
"It sure is," Jason whispered. "It sure is…"
The snowflakes fluttered in his eyes, a different Jason now. He blinked rapidly, trying to get his bearings. There was a dull ache in his head and he couldn't seem to focus. Jason looked down at his hands, the familiar heavy weight of a gun clenched in his right fist. The feeling was at once soothing and frighteningly unfamiliar. A black shape lay on the ground beneath him, and Jason Morgan lowered to his knees to get a closer look. The object started to come into focus slowly and fear gripped him as he realized it was a body.
"Hey, mister. You okay?" Another shooting pain seared through him and Jason gripped his head with both hands.
"Mac?!"
A familiar voice cut through his pain. Lowering his hands from his head, Jason took another look at the still figure lying next to him. "Mac?" This time his voice croaked out the name. "Oh God. Mac?"
Silently, the snowflakes fell, onto Mac's unseeing eyes.
"Mac?!"
The voice was closer. Jason dropped the gun and searched for a pulse. "Mr. Scorpio? You're going to be okay." Long ago buried memories of pre-med courses and volunteer work flashed through his mind, and Jason wracked his brain, trying to figure out what he could do to help Robin's uncle. "Your pulse is weak-"
A loud clang snapped something inside Jason. Whoever was looking for Mac was close. Torn by the desire to help Mac and the instinct to run away, Jason reached for the gun beside him and ran to a doorway bathed in shadows.
Rounding the corner at full speed, Lucky Spencer stopped abruptly when he saw the body on the ground and dropped to his knees. "Mac, you hold on for me." Pulling out his cell phone he dialed 911 with shaky fingers. "This is Detective Lucky Spencer. We have an officer down at Pier 39. It's Commissioner Scorpio. Please, you have to send an ambulance immediately!"
Patrick sighed and put down the paper his friend Pete Marquez had suggested he read to get acclimated in Port Charles. "Moral relativism…" The theories posted by Alan Robles in his article certainly held a lot of merit. Frankly, Patrick thought, he wouldn't have believed it had he not experienced it for himself time and again. He wondered if Robles had spent any time in Port Charles while compiling his research. No wonder, he thought now, Pete had left New York and settled down in this two horse town. What better inspiration for an aspiring novelist than this place?
Pete, his brother in the pursuit of women, was now a professor at Port Charles University, a career choice that Patrick had no doubt came down to Pete's desire to never leave college life and the accessibility to nubile coeds. Marquez had emailed the philosophy paper to him in response to Patrick's stunned observation that a scant month after the Encephalitis epidemic swept through Port Charles it seemed to have been forgotten. What anywhere else would have remained in the public consciousness for generations wasn't even mentioned in passing; it was onwards to the next crisis. It was disturbing to Patrick in the same way that seeing decent people mingling with mobsters. Hell, even Robin, the most moral person he knew, had dated a hit man and was called sister by the biggest mob boss in town. Robles's paper encapsulated it all perfectly. Moral relativism didn't just describe the mafia either. It was parents like Frisco and Felicia Jones. Luke Spencer with his kids. Anna and Robert with Robin. All the women who dated the mobsters. Even, Patrick admitted, him and his father after Maddie died.
Patrick shook his head and looked at the paper he had just finished reading. Professor Pete was right, it summed up life in Port Charles perfectly. "No wonder Robin fled to France and hid in a lab," Patrick muttered as he reached blindly for his beeper which was going off. Seeing the 911 page for the ER he frowned and turned it off. He jumped up, grabbed his lab coat and rushed out of the lounge.
"What do we have?" he barked at the medics who were wheeling the patient through the door of the ER.
"GSW to the chest. No exit wound."
"How close to the heart?" he asked as he followed them into the room and circled around the gurney impatiently, waiting for them to uncover the wound.
"Doctor, it's Commissioner Scorpio," one of the paramedics said.
A jerk of Patrick's head was the only sign that he had heard them. "I asked, how close to the heart!" He pushed their hands out of the way. "Call Dr. Monica Quatermaine. We need to get to an OR now!"
"OR3 is cleared for us. Go now!" Epiphany directed the rest of the staff as she hung up the telephone. "Dr. Quatermaine will meet us there."
The gurney moved out of the way between them. They stood looking at each other silently for a moment. "Dr. Scorpio needs to be called." Epiphany nodded. Patrick swallowed heavily and then turned to walk out of the exam room. "Then meet me in OR3."
Once outside the room Patrick stopped and took a deep breath. His tongue darted out and he licked his bottom lip. "You can do this, Drake," he whispered to himself, swiping his hand over his chin.
Robin rolled over and felt for Patrick, but he wasn't there. She opened her eyes and saw him sitting up on the edge of his side of the bed, his head in his hands. Wordlessly, he got up and slowly walked to the bedroom door.
"Patrick?"
No response.
As he flung open the door, Patrick stepped not into their living room, but the hustle and bustle of Amsterdam's red light district. It was nighttime, and the red glow from the storefront windows and the dingy yellow shimmer from the gas street lamps splayed across the cobblestone streets. There were so many people, yet it was silent.
"Patrick? Where are you going? Come back!" Robin tried to call after him, but no sound came out. She jumped out of bed and followed him.
"NO!" she gasped as she watched Patrick approach the church. Her body began to tremble in terror. "Patrick, please don't go in there." Still she could make no sound, and Patrick surged forward.
She saw his lips move almost in silent prayer fitting to the church he was about to enter. Her eyes focused on the ornate brass sign reading "Marry in haste, repent at leisure" poised above the bright red door of the church. She watched as he steeled himself, opened the door to Oude Kerk and quickly slipped inside.
Then nothing.
Finally, there was sound. The loud boom seemingly coming from all around her, washing over her. And then a flash. Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and then a loud rumbling and crash after crash; it was deafening. It was so loud she couldn't hear her screams, but she could feel her throat, raw and burning.
Robin ran at full speed towards the church, towards Patrick, but it felt like she was running in sand and everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Finally reaching the pile of rubble that once was Oude Kerk, she forced her way through the red door, running through hallways on fire, thick black smoke all around her. Rounding a corner she saw a body. A head full of dark hair. "Please, God. No," Robin whispered. "Patrick? No, no, no," she cried. Sliding on her knees until she rested next to the body, she grabbed hold of his shoulders and turned him towards her to see the face of another man she loved with her whole heart. "Uncle Mac?"
Her screams now were very loud and rang through her empty apartment. Robin sat bolt upright in bed, realizing that the phone was ringing and the shrill bell intermingled with her terrified screams. Brow thick with sweat, and her heart beating out of her chest with terror, she realized that it was all a horrible dream. Patrick had gone into Oude Kerk seconds before it had been blown up, but he had done it under the supervision of her mother and Sean as part of a bigger plan to find her and rescue her, and he had exited the historic church just as quickly and safely. Patrick was okay and working a night shift at the hospital. They were all okay and back in Port Charles. And her Uncle Mac? Well she had just seen him hours earlier at a Sunday dinner he had put together for the entire extended Scorpio clan, which included Devanes, Drakes and Donnelys. Uncle Mac was fine.
The phone wouldn't stop ringing, so Robin leaned over to her nightstand and picked up the cordless. "Hello?" She was still breathless from her nightmare.
"Dr. Scorpio?"
"Epiphany? Is everything okay?" Robin's heart sank. Something was wrong.
"You need to get to General Hospital immediately."
END Part 1