Lost and Found

By: Jackie & Athena13

Chapter 1

"Are you sure you want to move into that house again?" Brenda asked in Robin's ear. "It has a lot of memories."

"The one thing I have figured out since coming home is that the memories are in my head not in any particular place. Given I'm a brain specialist I should have figured out that it's just a house simply weeks ago." Robin was standing in the chaos that was the Scorpio-Jones kitchen balancing the phone on her shoulder and adding more soy creamer to her coffee.

"Make sure you change the locks."

"I think Carly has better things to do than try to break into my house with old keys." Robin laughed and leaned back against the counter and took a bracing sip of the fresh coffee.

"What about Jason?"

"If Jason wanted to get in locks are not going to stop him." Robin rolled her eyes at her best friend's irrational caution.

"Just promise you'll burn some sage before you move in and sweep out all the nasty spiritual remnants."

Robin laughed and shook her head. Brenda's breadth of knowledge never ceased to surprise her.

"Now, have you told Uncle Mac?" Brenda demanded.

"I needed to drink coffee first. I'm going to meet him for lunch before I go to work."

"Robin, Robin, Robin. You work too much. Why don't you ditch work and come visit me in Rome. Imagine all the fun we could have with your newfound lease on life. And I can find you some hot Italian men who don't even know Carly Roberts Spencer Jones Corinthos Alcazar, or whatever the hell her names is, exists."

"For the fortieth time I'm not going to get involved with Patrick Drake."

"So it's just a coincidence that a short date with this man has woken you up from the self-induced coma you've been in since Simon left Paris?"

"I told you he reminded me of my father and made me realize I wasn't doing his memory justice being so dull." That was her story and she was going to stick to it.

"I think your social life could use more spice, but living in Paris and finding cures to diseases and winning awards isn't totally dull. All that was missing was hot men. Are you sure you want to stay in Port Charles? Aside from Nikolas, Jax and Patrick there is a decided dearth of exciting men."

"What about Sonny?" Robin asked pointedly.

"What was that? I think we have a bad connection." Brenda faked sounds of static. "Listen, I gotta go. Let me know if you change your mind about Rome."

"I'll let you know. And you should come visit on St. Patrick's Day."

"Why? When I could go to Ireland? Love you, Robin. Talk soon."

Robin clicked off the cordless phone and put it back in its wall-mounted cradle.

"Speaking of keys," Robin muttered to herself as she left the kitchen.

"Is everything all right?" Robin asked as she opened the front door of the cottage. "Your father?"

"Nice sweats." Patrick smirked down at her outfit and then looked back into her eyes and held up what was obviously a bottle of liquor in a paper bag. "Everything's just dandy. I'm just here to bring a housewarming present to a colleague. We are colleagues right?"

Robin frowned and moved back to let him in. "How'd you find where I lived?" she asked, following him as he weaved through unpacked boxes to the kitchen.

"Small town." He put the bottle on the counter and looked around at the boxes piled up around him. "Do you have a wine opener?"

"Should you really be drinking? Don't you have surgery tomorrow morning?"

"Cancelled and don't worry, my liver is just fine."

It was on the tip of her Robin's tongue to ask why he wasn't still with Carly since he had so ostentatiously stormed out of the hospital with her earlier that evening, but she wasn't going to make the mistake of sticking her nose in there again. Instead, she found the right box and pulled out a corkscrew for him, went back out into the dining room to grab the wine glasses she had just put out in the bar and put them on the counter for him.

She pulled herself onto an empty spot on the kitchen counter and took the glass of red wine he held out to her.

"What are we toasting to?" she asked, sniffing the wine. She made a 'not bad' expression and swirled it around in her glass.

"Healthy livers?"

"Patrick." A concerned look on her face Robin made to put her glass down on the counter, but Patrick blocked her hand and pushed it back to her mouth.

"How about to being professional colleagues? Maybe even friends?" The last part of his question was said very quietly. He was looking into her eyes and she could suddenly see the pain and turmoil he had been effectively hiding till now.

"Friends." Robin touched her glass to his before taking a sip.

Patrick leaned back against the counter next to her, his head bent down.

Robin put her wine down and looked at him, waiting.

"I didn't think I'd care so much," Patrick finally said.

"He's your father."

"I told myself that it didn't matter."

"You tried to out-logic emotions. Sucks that it doesn't work." Robin gave a small laugh of recognition.

Patrick turned his head and looked at her. "I didn't say it before, but thanks. Sorry I was such a…"

"Jackass?"

"Well, that's nicer than I thought you'd say," Patrick chuckled.

Robin shrugged and picked up her wine and cradled it in her palms.

"This place, when'd you get it?"

"Years ago."

Patrick's attention was piqued by her tone and he studied her closely. "Did you live here with Jason?"

"How do you know I lived with Jason? Another of your assumptions? You know what they say about assumptions." She looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked.

"Okay, now you're using flip humor to avoid answering a question." He pointed a finger at her.

"Fair's fair. How about we drop the heavy topics and you help me unpack? Or finish painting?" She definitely didn't want to talk about the history in this house, especially since it included his current…whatever the hell she was.

"Manual labor this late at night? With these precious hands?" His mouth twisted into a moue of disgust.

"Are you too tired?" She tilted her head and looked at him meaningfully.

"Are you asking if I've engaged in other physical activities tonight, Doctor Scorpio?"

"Believe me I don't really want to know." Robin jumped down from the counter and headed for the door of the kitchen.

"Wasting surgeon hands on painting," he grumbled good-naturedly under his breath until he caught sight of the back of Robin. "Hey, Scorpio. Are you really using red paint?" He motioned at the splatters all down the back of her sweat pants, which included a particularly large spot that looked like she had actually sat in the paint.

"Thought I'd spice up the bedroom." She turned her head over her shoulder and shot him an amused look before walking out of the kitchen.

Patrick took a sip of his wine and looked after her thoughtfully.