A/N: I have no idea where this idea came from. Kind of just woke up with it and it wouldn't let me go until I dashed it off. This is pretty much a first draft, so please forgive the lack of editing. Then again, since this is Robin's POV, it's not like she'd be editing her thoughts. At least at first. I'll probably follow this up with Patrick's POV, which was not planned but came to me once this piece was done. Hopefully, I'll be able to dash the next part off later today while it's still fresh. But it might not be until tomorrow. That is if ya'll don't think this sucks and I shouldn't bother ;-)
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Meddling - Robin (1/2)
By Athena13
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"Robin, I appreciate your concern, but this really isn't your business, despite my son's request." I've followed Noah from the nurse's station where he left his son standing shell-shocked and aching to the quiet of the small office he's been assigned for the duration of his work at GH, a stay that could be much shorter than it has to be, not just because he's chosen not to fight to live, but because he's pushing himself to the edge, just as he always has. The edge of greatness in surgery, the edge of greatness in love and the edge of utter destruction in the bottle. And now to the edge of death.
"I'd think since I dragged your ass out of that bar and brought you and your son here I have some privileges. So shut up and listen." I'm more than aware that I'm moving quickly into the emotional territory I had just told Noah and Patrick would not help the situation. That the man in front of me has suddenly ceased being Patrick's father, but another version of my own. Another member of the dead beat father's club Patrick insists we're both members of.
He is also the man that has left Patrick struggling to hold the pieces of his shattered heart together. The image of that strong man so pained lends an edge to my voice that Noah has never heard. I can see the surprise in his eyes as he leans back against the desk and drops the chart he was carrying onto its hard surface.
"Fine, this is me listening." He spreads his arms wide and dares me to take my best shot.
"You're being nothing but stubborn. Takes one to know one." Despite my best efforts, rage is starting to push through and decimate my own barriers.
"Robin, I'm protecting my son. No surgery is failsafe." His voice is a whispered plea. One I will not heed as my sense memory throws the waves of pain that I felt seeping from Patrick's body in at me once again.
I burn him with a censorious look that reminds him that he said he was listening. And to let him know that I, like his son, see deeper than his self-proclaimed selflessness. I confirm it with my words. "What you're doing to your son is consigning him to is living the rest of his life thinking that his father didn't love him enough to fight to live to be with him."
"But he'll be alive," Noah whispered, his voice cracking on the last word. I know he's thinking of his wife, of losing her on the table, of the horror of losing his son in what he sees as a selfish attempt to steal life from his son's body. I am temporarily mollified by it. It makes my next words softer than they might have otherwise been.
"The only certainty is that you'll be dead and you won't get to know what an incredible man he is and he won't get to know you. All he'll know is that when he lost both of his parents it was even worse because you didn't really die, you just didn't care enough about him to choose to be with him instead of your pain and the bottle."
Once again Noah has morphed into my own father, into Robert Scorpio, and the pain I feel is physical. I put my hand over my heart trying to ease the pressure. The only sounds I can hear are the beating of my own heart and Noah's rapid breaths. The din of the hospital outside this door has faded away.
"He might not recover from this, Noah. That incredible man with the gentle soul may forever stay hidden so he doesn't have to feel the pain you've caused him." Tears slide down my cheeks, but I don't attempt to censor them. I am giving all that I have to this. For Noah. For Patrick. For myself. "He may never have the love that you had with his mother because all he sees is how destructive it was, you may be the only one who can show him true beauty of love. You're his father, you owe him this."
The idea of Patrick never letting out the incredible man I've been blessed to see leaves me almost breathless. If I wasn't so focused on Noah I know that I would be terrified by the depth of emotion this causes me. Before me, I finally see that Noah is taking in what I have to say. He is hunched forward, unable to meet my eyes. Still, he says nothing, spurring me on. If I want him to agree to this fight so desperately, I can only imagine how Patrick feels. I'm suddenly amazed that he can remain standing. My own hand grasps at a chair so that I can remain upright.
"Life isn't worth living Noah if you don't have people to love you and people that you love." I would know. The last year, two, more, in Paris I was one of the walking dead. I just had a lot less fun than Patrick probably has. "Not fighting to live, not letting them fight for you is the worst thing you can do to love. To life."
The image of Patrick trying to haul me off into the elevator flashes before my eyes. I push the image away for later study.
"Fight to be with Patrick and let him fight to be with you. If nothing else, work until your dying breath to help him be at peace with your choice to leave him."
It is only through sheer determination that I do not collapse onto the floor and weep. I had no idea such grief was still inside me. I had no idea I could feel this much anymore.
"I let my father leave without saying what needed to be said, I may never see him again. Don't waste that time with your son."
At this Noah finally looks up, his own tears sliding down his cheeks and a well of sadness that matches my own shines in his eyes at me. Touches me, in my heart, as do his next words.
"My son is lucky to have you in his corner. I'm lucky." He stopps and swallows. "Tell my son I need to see him, to talk about my options to live."
My knees go weak and I drop my head for a moment sucking in air. Noah's decision to live is like I have finally decided to live myself. I look up, a tremulous smile curving my lips and lighting my face.
"I'll go get, Patrick and then I'll put you on the transplant list? Schedule the tests to see if you and Patrick are a match?"
"I can do all that, Robin."
"You shouldn't waste anymore time. That's advice I intend to take for myself." And it is.
I rush out of Noah's office back to the nurses' station, but Patrick is gone. I can't remember if he had surgery. If he does I'm afraid I might burst into the OR. I couldn't possibly wait that long.
"Have you seen Doctor Drake, Patrick, anywhere?" I ask the nurses on duty, barely conscious of their strange looks at my tear soaked face.
One of them points towards the waiting area where Patrick is sitting hunched over a chart. His pen is poised, but I can see as I hasten over to him that he's not writing anything.
"Patrick?" I am suddenly hesitant, shy of interrupting him. The room suddenly feels like the air has been sucked out. I can hardly catch my breath.
He looks up at me and his guarded eyes widen at the sight of me making me more than aware at just how horrible I must look. He stands up and grabs my arm. "What's wrong?"
"You're father wants to see you." I smile suddenly and with my free hand I grab at the lapel of his crisp, white doctor's coat. The one he looks so damned sexy in. And out of. "He's going to fight to live."
Before I know it I'm wrapped in Patrick's arms and he's spinning me around. I snake my arms around his neck to anchor myself. He stops spinning and he looks at me, our faces are finally at eye level, his relief and elation are evident in his expression. "Thank you, Robin. Thank you."
"He's doing it for you." I put my hands on his cheeks, framing his beautiful face. I need for him to know that his father is going to fight to live for him. Not for me. "He just needed a swift kick in the ass."
"You certainly know how to deliver those, Doctor Scorpio."
My heart flutters as he bites his lips and his eyes narrow seductively. His eyes lashes are gorgeous. I never saw that before from my usually lower vantage point. Before I can chicken out I press my lips to his, I feel his lips open and a gasp of surprise blows into my mouth. His arms tighten around my waist as I slide my tongue into his mouth and confirm that he does indeed taste like heaven and coming home all rolled up into one. This was exactly what I was afraid of and can no longer be bothered to resist. The split second of shock passes and Patrick is right there with me returning the long sensuous kiss I've started.
We're both breathing heavily by the time we both pull back to look at each other in delighted surprise at the turn of events.
"What was that for?" he asks, his voice rough with desire and repressed tears. These moments have been long ones for him. Again, I am awestruck that he manages to hold his ground. If he wasn't holding me up I'd be a puddle at his feet and no one has ever called me weak-willed. No one credible, anyway.
"That's called not wasting time. Have dinner with me."
"Okay." Patrick blinks quickly a couple of times. I'm pleased to have finally shocked Patrick Drake senseless. Then I remember his father.
"Go see, Noah. I'm going to put his name on the transplant list and arrange for your tests to see if you're a match."
Patrick lets out a sigh and presses his forehead against mine. I love that he hasn't let me go yet, though I urgently want to dash to the transplant wing and get things underway.
"How can I ever thank you?" he whispers.
The thought that crosses my mind is one that I can't share with him. I can barely hear it without wanting to flee myself. Out loud I say something to lighten the dangerous tension between us before I just wrap my legs around his waist and never let him go. "Pay for dinner."
As I planned he chuckles and pulls his head back and begins to loosen his hold, planting me back down on the ground.
"Go see him. I'll come find you when I'm done."
Patrick's eyes are still locked with mine and I can see that he is just letting us both off the hook.
"Go." Now. Before I say something completely ridiculous.
Like I've fallen in love with you Patrick Drake.
I could swear I see something in his eyes before he backs up a step and picks up the chart he had been pretending to study just five minutes ago. Was it really only five minutes? As the news of his father's change of heart seeps back into his consciousness his lips curve into a joyous smile that takes my breath away, he dips his head at me. "Seven o'clock," he says before turning to go see Noah.
I let out the breath I didn't even realize I was holding and head towards the transplant wing. I'm wondering if what I saw was merely gratitude or if Patrick Drake could feel the same way about me that I had refused before now to admit I felt for him.