A/N: It just occurred to me tonight how odd it is that I'm writing fanfic for GH. I've watched this show off and on my entire life. Just seems strange. Anywhooo…here's Robin's point of view on the first day back after vacation. More later this weekend.

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Meddling – Robin 17
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I'd like I was coming back to work like I had never left it, but, as I look at the stack of paperwork that litters the Nurse's Station in front of me, it's evident that I've just come back from a week off. In fact, it looks like I've come back from a month off. How could so much paperwork accumulate when I'm not here I just can't figure out? It's like some gothic curse, take time off and paperwork will propagate in your absence at exponentially increasing speeds. Some mad hospital administrator must have invented the curse in the mid-fifteenth century to dissuade staff from taking vacation. Or maybe it was a Cassadine?

Patrick is not faring any better. It's like everyone has decided to come down with a neurological condition in his absence as he practically has back-to-back surgeries scheduled for the next two weeks, in addition to numerous consults. He grumbled about it last night when he saw his schedule, but I know he's really proud because it means that he's in demand. I'm proud for him.

By that same token, I guess I shouldn't complain about my paperwork. I just got FDA approval to do human trials in the U.S. with the drug combination that I had only emergency exception to use on Jason, which is the cause of much of this paper. Another portion of the pile is related to my European clinicals data. It seems that Patrick and I are on career upswings, all of which which means that we're just going to have to make a concerted effort to spend time together in the midst of our busy schedules. I can't help but smile at the thought, it's so darn normal.

I have craved normal with my heart and soul since before I was born, or so it feels like. These are the kinds of questions I want to wonder about – can Patrick and I make it work without all the outside drama of liver transplants and epidemics? Will Patrick begin to miss his womanizing ways? Will we just plain bore each other to death or drive each other crazy? It's so much better than wondering about bombs, plots to end the world and kidnappings.

"Must have been a nice vacation," Liz leans in to comment as she passes behind me to use the computer sitting to the left of me.

I turn and tilt my head and show her a big smile.

"Okay, a very good vacation. Surprising how things turn out, you and Patrick "The Rake" Drake madly in love. I wish I could say I called it, but I missed that one."

I shake my head in wonder and give her a wry smile. "Remember when I thought he was nothing but a cold-hearted, pompous jerk? He didn't show a soul until that date he blackmailed me to go on." I feel filled with love thinking back to the moment when he got real with me, though I'm not unaware of the irony.

"I think it's what he believed about himself. I'd say you shook his world up dragging him back here to face his father and challenging him at every turn. He was like a dog with a bone going after you."

"Or a boner." I cover my mouth and muffle giggles. I can't believe I said that out loud. That man is contaminating my mind!

Liz wrinkles her nose and giggles with me.

"I have a very strong sense of déjà vu."

I turn my head and see Noah Drake leaning up against the counter in just that way Patrick does. He's wearing jeans, a button down shirt and looks startlingly like an older version of his son. "Had lots of girls giggling about you, Dr. Drake?" I smile at him. "You're looking healthier than I've ever seen you."

"That's what the doctors tell me, too. And as for the giggling I was actually talking about the girls around my son." He stops, tilts his head and smirks at me. "But that you could think of me does the old ego good." He even sounds like his son.

"If I wasn't in love with your son, Noah…" I trail off meaningfully and wink at him. Patrick what have you done to me! Now, I'm getting smarmy with your father!

Noah, however, is not one ounce of offended and just throws his head back and laughs. "I knew I liked you. Dump the youngster and let the old man show you the original." He waggles his eyebrows at me.

I pretend to think about it for a moment, causing him to laugh again. Not only am I happy to see Noah so carefree, but it's feels good for me to be this way too. These Drake men have brought me back to life and everything I've ever done for them wouldn't be enough to make that square. I know we're just one big mutual admiration society and I wouldn't have it any other way.

"I have a feeling my son might kick my ass if I take this any further, so how about we just run off for a nice lunch in the sunshine at Kelly's? My treat." Noah slips his hands in his pockets and rolls back on his heels as he delivers his invitation.

I close my pen and tell him that I would be delighted. We both say goodbye to Liz and companionably head out to lunch.

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Almost forty-five minutes later our table has been cleared, I sip an iced tea while Noah drinks bottled water – what he calls his sop to the habit of paying for his drinks – and we chat about the Drake beach house, the latest surgical tools that Noah can't wait to get a hold of when he comes on staff and his new living arrangements at Bobbie's brownstone. As he talks I see his attention diverted by something, or someone, behind me. Within seconds there's a shadow blocking our sun and I look up and see Patrick looming over us.

He's wearing jeans, a t-shirt and sunglasses, just like we're still on vacation; he's even backlit by the sun like when we were on the beach. I feel a completely inappropriate shaft of lust, but more than that I feel a weight I didn't know was pressing down on me lift away. This is the longest we've been apart in over a week and I've really missed him.

We speak at the same time. I say hello and he voices a sharp, "Isn't this cozy?" His lips are curved into a smile, but I know it's false.

"Have a seat, Sport," Noah invites. I can't tell if he's detected the same bitter tone I have and is ignoring it or if he hasn't noticed it at all. "Your girlfriend and I were just enjoying a leisurely lunch. Well, leisurely for me since I don't have to go back to work, yet."

"Stuart told me about your plans. Congratulations." Again, Patrick's words are audibly insincere.

"How was surgery?" I ask, wondering if something happened in the O.R.

"I was magnificent," Patrick says with a shrug.

I sit it out another few minutes, but it's clear that Patrick is not going to voice what has him so upset and I need to get back to work anyway. "See you tonight for dinner?" I put my hand on his shoulder, he doesn't flinch from my touch, but I can feel his muscles are all bunched up with tension.

"I have surgery," he says, and nothing else. No "I'll call you later," no "we'll stay at your place." I struggle to not take his mood personally.

"Okay. Well, see you later then." I kiss him on the cheek and he makes a half-hearted caress of my hand. "Thank you for lunch, Noah."

I walk back to the hospital wondering if this normal is all I thought it was cracked up to be.