Blazing Desire

Robin Scorpio stared at the stacks of research before her, trying to get immersed in its words. Medical Data Sheet…her mind drifted after the first three words and she bit her lip. Focus, Robin, she mentally chastised, furious at herself for her inability to do so—more so because of what she was focusing on instead.

Patrick Drake. The delicious new doctor was never far from her mind, especially since he had expressed interest in her, ridding her fear of unrequited love. But I messed up any chance I had with him. Robin reminded herself of the night Carly had revealed her secret—as well as her reaction to it. She'd mistaken his understanding and concern for pity, and chewed him out for it. Although regretful now, Robin had decided against doing anything about it for the moment. I'll let things cool down first, She reasoned, but she knew it was an excuse. She was just afraid that Patrick's feelings for her had changed, and she didn't want to face that possibility.

Sighing, Robin grabbed a rubber band for her hair and deftly tied it in a messy ponytail. She returned to the piece of paper before her. Doctors provide new research on brain tumors…would Patrick be interested in this? She suddenly asked herself, and then groaned aloud. That man would just not get out of her head. Stop thinking about him, She warned herself. Unfortunately she knew now that she'd do nothing but that.

Pushing herself out of her chair, Robin got up and got a glass from the cabinet. She poured herself a glass of red wine, hoping that it would allow her to pour herself back into her work. She sat back down and took a sip, savoring the flavor—and the kick that accompanied it. She returned to her research but it was to no avail: Now all she could think about was sharing a glass with Patrick…perhaps in a hot tub.

Get a grip, girl. Robin closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Such…trivial thoughts were out of character for her. No man had ever distracted her from her work; Well, not in a long time, anyway. Maybe I should apologize to him…Robin mused, disgustingly noting that she'd probably not get any work done until she did. And after…well, even that was debatable.

Robin got up, grabbing her coat and her keys. She hurried as quick as she could—before she lost her nerve, and was left to merely fantasizing again.

A knock at the door startled Patrick Drake from his daydreams. He got up from his couch and opened the door, glad for the distraction from his constant thoughts on a certain female…

The person in front of him surprised him. "Dad?" Patrick eyed his father with astonishment. His hair was disheveled, his eyes were bloodshot, and his breath smelled strongly of whisky. Patrick felt a familiar twist in his gut. His father was drunk. No surprises there.

The older doctor Drake smiled wanly. "H-hello, son. Aren't you going to let your old man c-come in?" He hiccupped.

Patrick moved away from the doorframe to allow his father to do so.

"Buh-bye the way, there's a girl outside."

Yes, his father was definitely drunk.

"Why don't you sit down, Dad?" Patrick motioned towards the couch.

Noah Drake sat down, his hands shaking slightly. "C-could you get me a drink?"

Anger seared through Patrick and he tried to fight it down. How could his father destroy himself so—through mind-numbing alcohol? How could he waste away the rest of his life, after already throwing away his career? "No, Dad. I think you've had enough." He said firmly.

"Son, p-please," Noah persisted.

"Goddamn it, Dad, why do you do this to yourself?" Patrick yelled, barely refraining himself from throwing something heavy across the room.

His father was silent for a moment, and Patrick took a deep breath to try to calm himself down.

"It's just…" Noah began, "S-since your mother died…I c-can't f-find the reason to live sometimes…alcohol…numbs the pain…" He finished helplessly.

Patrick felt a lump rise in his throat of its own accord. Damn it, since when had he worn his feelings on his sleeve? He knelt down so he was eye-level with his father, and sighed—already feeling remorse for yelling at him. "Okay, Dad." He said, not sure of what else he could say when his father was in such a state. He examined his father then, making sure he was alright.

"No signs of alcohol poisoning," Patrick mumbled to himself, "But you're going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow morning." He rose and moved to get a blanket from the closet.

"Son?" Noah started again, his eyelids now just half open.

"Yeah, Dad?"

"I'm sorry for being such a bad father to you, you deserved so much better."

Patrick covered his father with a blanket, choosing not to comment. He got a glass of water and two aspirin, put them on the table next to the sofa where his father would be sure to see them when he woke up, and kissed him on the forehead.

Noah was already asleep.

"You weren't a bad father," Patrick almost whispered.

And that was when he heard the crash, and saw a certain auburn-haired girl in his foyer.