A/N: Yeah, I'm back again. Still saying that I'm not sure how much more. I definitely at least 1 more POV each in mind. Please do tell me when I begin to lose the tone and impact!

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Meddling - Patrick 5
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"We found a liver."

I'm elated to just be saying the words, elated to be saying them to Robin. For a split second after I hang up with her I wonder who I would have called before I met her and it comes barreling on me that the only phone call would have been news of my father's death. The reality of that is like a punch in the gut and I sit back down on the unmade bed on which I had been sleeping when my father had called me with the news.

No, the only phone call would have been to ask me to identify the body. He probably would have been found face down in his favorite bar or even alone his crappy apartment back in NYC not to be found by days unless he had an outstanding bar bill. The bitch of it all was that we only lived less than fifteen blocks away from each other and it might as well have been different continents. If Robin hadn't convinced him to get out of that bar, hadn't stormed in and demanded I perform a miracle, my father would have never had a chance to turn his life around and I would never have gotten to know him as I have. I would never have gotten to forgive him, because I realize suddenly, I have. It was Robin, not me, who performed the miracle.

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She looks tired, I can see that even through my edgy excitement and I tell her so.

"You're not looking like a fresh daisy yourself," she says as she slips her hand into mine after locking her apartment door behind her. "Why don't we walk the rest of the way?"

I take her up on the suggestion. The walk from her apartment is actually quicker than driving and parking and we both could use the cool, moist early morning air to wake us up. As we walk, still holding hands, my thoughts turn back to the moment I had in my apartment earlier. My stomach twists up, but I force the words out anyway.

"This wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for you, Robin. All of it. I still don't know how to thank you or how we got so lucky." She says nothing so I turn and see her looking at me, her eyes sparkling with tears. I stroke her tiny hand and pull her closer. I transfer her hand to my other hand and put my arm around her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

I feel her sigh and relax against me as we continue to walk, it lessens some of the anxiety her silence churned up.

"I'm just as lucky, Patrick." She traces my hand with her soft fingers. "You've given me as much as I've given you."

I would argue, but the emotion in her voice tells me that she's serious and that I shouldn't make this into a contest. The sight of the hospital entrance also tells me that now's not the time to delve further into this private conversation.

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"I'll wait for you in the waiting room," Robin says as we stand near the entrance to the Transplant Unit.

"My father wants to see you. I didn't just drag you out of bed to keep me company." I grin at her.

She doesn't say a word, but I can see that she's pleased and touched by the request. Something about the evident connection between my father and the woman that I…I'm seeing causes my stomach to turn over. I stroke my finger down her cheek "Go on," I whisper.

When she finds me a short time later I can't decipher the expression on her face, but there's no time to delve into it because my father is waiting to go into surgery. I leave her with a quick kiss and walk into the pre-op room where my father has been prepped to be wheeled into the OR.

My father must have seen my frustrated glance at the doors to the OR because the first words out his mouth are "You shouldn't see me like that, Patrick. It's too close."

I want to rail at him that it's worse for me to be left powerless and waiting, but even I can see that now is not the time and on this it's not worth the energy to try to change his mind.

"I realized this morning that I've forgiven you." I'm not sure quite why I've said this, but apparently it's the right thing to say because my father closes his eyes and tears seep out onto the pillow beneath his head. My heart starts beating nervously as I see that his skin is almost as pale as the white linens he's lying on. His mortality is suddenly a palpable thing and in the hindsight of forgiveness so is his humanity. My head drops forward and I take his hand in mine, taking comfort from its warmth.

I've suddenly realized that my bitterness towards my father was not just because he left me to deal with my grief alone or because he let my mother down, but because my superhuman father suddenly proved to have feet of clay. That man I idolized and wanted to be like my entire life turned out to be a flawed human subject to weakness and that meant that I was too. I hated him for it and after some angry attempts to drag him out of the bottle I wrote him off and went on to try and prove that I would never be so weak. As he deserted me, I deserted him. The irony is overwhelming.

"Can you forgive me?" I whisper.

His eyes open and he looks up at me in surprise. "For what?"

"For writing you off and leaving you to die." Then. Recently.

"Oh, Patrick. You're the son, it was my job to be there for you and I wasn't."

I shake my head and I see that tears I didn't even know I was crying splatter on my father's already wet face. "I was supposed to be a man." I kneel down now and put my head on the pillow next to my father's. "I love you, Dad." What else, really, is there to say?

"Patrick, I am so proud of you. You are the best man I have ever known, the best surgeon and you are becoming the best doctor I have ever had the privilege to see. And, forgive me for being premature as I don't know if I'll get to say this later, if you play your cards right you'll be the best husband to the best wife you could possibly choose. Robin is the one for you, Patrick. I hope that doesn't scare you away."

I close my eyes as his hand strokes my hair like he did when I was a little boy and he'd come into my room after I had gone to bed and he was home late from the hospital. I would lie halfway asleep, but my body and mind would not fully rest until I felt the stroke of my father's hand on my head. I had forgotten that until now.

"You have your mother's heart, Patrick. Let it shine through. Always know that I love you."

Before another minute has passed the nurse and anesthesiologist come in to take him away.

I stand up and hold his hand until they force me from the room. Slowly, I walk down the empty corridor back towards the waiting area where Robin is waiting. As I push through the doors she stands up and holds her arms out.