A/N: Thanks for all the wonderful feedback. This is more of an introspective piece than prior parts. Amazing what love does.

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Meddling - Patrick 9
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She glows in the moonlight as if she is not of this world, certainly not someone who should by lying here in bed with me. There are hundreds of things about her that I could cite that make her beautiful, her flawless skin, her dark amber eyes, her pink, perfectly shaped lips, her soft hair, but none of these superficial facets of her explain why I'm propped up on my elbow watching her sleep so I don't miss one moment of her here in my bed for the first time.

I gently push stray strands of hair off her cheek because I don't want anything marring my view of her translucent beauty. I shake my head and chuckle silently at my cheesy choice of words. Before, the only poetry I ever spouted were contrived recitations intended to achieve a certain end – instant gratification of carnal pleasures. Look at me now. She doesn't know that I'm treasuring each beat of her heart, the rise and fall of each of her breaths, the citrus scent of her shampoo. There is no reward other than being here with her. It is enough for me.

The sensory experience of her next to me shows up the lacking of every woman who came before. There wasn't anything wrong with them per se, they just weren't Robin and I wasn't in love with them. I always thought those people who claimed that love made a difference in bed were a bunch of geeks who couldn't get laid; or women. Seems the joke's on me. We haven't made love fully yet, but I know that it will be like nothing I've ever experienced before.

Before I have to have myself committed to the sap ward, I have to remind myself that I'm not going to pretend that I didn't enjoy every second of those other encounters. That I wouldn't do it or them again, but for the first time I'm not calculating how soon I want the woman to leave. I'm trying to figure out how to get her to stay.

My hand is going numb and I sit up with a muttered curse as I shake it back to life.

"Patrick?" The whisper in the dark startles me. I turn my head and see my father standing in the shadows outside the bedroom door that Robin insisted we keep slightly ajar so we could hear my father if he needed anything. Not wanting to wake her I roll out of bed and go to the door. I close it behind me before asking him what's wrong.

"I was coming from the bathroom when I heard you." He looks at the closed door and then grins at me. "I take it you're not alone tonight."

I shrug and grin back.

"Glad to see I'm not completely cramping your love life, Son."

"She loves me, Dad." I hadn't intended to say it, but looking into his eyes in the dark hallway I know without a shadow of a doubt that he will understand the significance of what I'm telling him.

He puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes. "You're a lucky man and she's a very lucky woman, Patrick." I can see tears shining in his eyes.

I stand quietly for a while absorbing his words. The pride I feel he is giving me fills a place in me that has long been empty. Wanting him to be proud is why I wanted to become a surgeon in the first place. I never thought I'd earn it for being a man.

"Why are you up?" I ask. "Is the pain bad?"

"I'm going stir crazy, Patrick. I'm not in pain. Nothing I can't handle," he amends at my dubious look. "It's been." He stops. "I've lost track of time already. A month. It's been a month. I need to get back to work. To life."

"You're here for another week, doctor's orders. Then we'll see if you're ready to stay on your own." I stop and an earlier conversation comes back to me. "Are you going to stay in Port Charles? At GH?"

"Would that be all right with you?" I hear the hesitance in his voice and I wince. When he first suggested it I was adamantly opposed, he was hours fresh of rehab and I wasn't willing to trust in his newborn sobriety. After the epidemic he earned his spot at GH and neither of us spoke about his staying on since by his own design he didn't have much longer to live. We're both of us now facing the prospect of a lifetime ahead as father and son and as colleagues. I realize that I still want that a great deal.

"If you think you can keep up with me." I enjoy tossing out the challenge.

"I know I have a lot to do to resurrect my career."

"Humble does not suit Dr. Noah Drake." Please, really. I learned from the master's knee how to be the most arrogant bastard in the room with the goods to live up to it. This apologetic crap has got to stop.

He laughs quietly and shakes his head. "I guess I have a lot to do to resurrect my cocky arrogance back to your level, Patrick."

It feels good to be sharing a laugh with my father.

"Go back to the woman you love, Patrick."

"What are you going to do?"

"Robin gave me a huge pile of medical journals to catch up on. I'll go start one on drug protocols and go right to sleep."

We share a surgeon's snicker then fall silent, just looking at each other, wary now.

"Good night, Dad." I hug my father good night. He puts his arms around me and holds on tight.