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Chapter 8
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People filled the house, circling around the couch where Robin was curled up and spilling into the dining room and kitchen of the sparsely furnished cottage. Yet, through all the din Robin could almost always feel his eyes on her. Attentive. Unaccountably intense. For the first time since she had come back to Port Charles she felt completely at home as her family and friends filled the house, Uncle Mac, Felicia, Georgie, Dillion, their wedding bands glinting under the lights, Maxie, Jessie, her parents – her parents! – Liz, Lucky, Luke, Lulu, Nicolas, Alan, Monica, new friends like Noah, all gathered to welcome her home and thank her for doing her job and saving their lives. Bobbie and Lucas had even stopped by for a while, but had left early, still in mourning for Tony.
Simon had tried to show up, but her father had nipped that in the bud outside on the walk to the house. And it wasn't a quiet confrontation, even though everyone tried to talk over it and were too polite to inquire what was going on. Well, everyone but Lulu was too polite to ask. Her mother had succinctly summed it up as a bad mistake and a look telling the teen to let it go.
And then there was Patrick. Even when he was engaged in conversation with someone, and she couldn't help but notice that he had had an intense conversation with her father, he seemed to be watching her. Then again, she only knew that because she was watching him. What was it about near death experiences that made everything sharper and more urgent? That was exactly how he looked and felt to her now. Dare she admit, even in her head, that he looked not only more gorgeous and sexy than ever, but more dear? Even in her head that sounded cheesy and pathetic, but for one night she forced herself to not care. She had survived and he had a large hand in that. Could just be a patient-doctor crush, she rationalized.
Watching him talk with Lucky she had to amend her previous thoughts, he seemed even more cocky than ever. Every time someone thanked him for caring for them or for Robin he accepted it as his due. He didn't brush it off like she tended to do. He reveled in the attention. It would have driven her nuts even a month ago, now she kind of liked it. Not that she would admit it. She wasn't that euphoric about getting another chance at life.
Patrick, in fact, was watching Robin closely tonight and the moment he saw her eyes drooping he announced to the gathered crowd that it was time to hit the road as the patient needed her rest. She gave a token protest, but the truth was she hadn't been allowed out of bed for this long yet and she was tired. Her weariness, however, momentarily disappeared when she saw her mother put on her coat.
"Where are you going?" She asked from her vantage point on the couch, disappointment and a touch of panic in her voice.
"Your father and I still have some things to work out. Doctor Junior Drake will make sure you're taken care of. I'll see you tomorrow." Anna leaned down and bussed her on both cheeks. "I love you baby girl."
"I love you too. Try not to get arrested."
Anna's laughter was still ringing out as she walked out the door.
Robin turned to find Patrick watching her, his face unreadable. She squirmed under his attention.
"How did you get this duty?" she finally asked. "Not that I need someone to take care of me," she hastily added. "I'm fine." To prove how fine she was she uncurled her legs and went to stand up.
"Oh no." Patrick swooped in and picked her up in his arms.
"I can walk to my room!" she protested as he easily carried her up the stairs and put her down on her bed. She tried not to think too hard on the fact that Patrick was in her bedroom.
"You've barely walked in the past two weeks and you're exhausted. Don't lie to me," he cut off her protest. "I am your doctor."
"You're a surgeon and you're fired," Robin grumbled and cleared her throat. "I can manage to get myself ready for bed." Her face was on fire.
"Sure, take away all the fun perks." Patrick sighed dramatically. "Fine. I'll be back in ten minutes and if you're not ready for bed I'm doing it myself." He rubbed his hands together and winked at her.
"Aren't you going home?" she asked in confusion.
"I promised your parents I'd watch over you while they finish working out their stuff. Don't worry Scorpio. I'll stay in the guest room like a good little boy."
"Let me get that ready for you." Robin stood up.
"Taken care of. Go change. Ten minutes." He walked out of the room leaving Robin frowning after him.
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The waiting room was bright white; the fluorescent lights burned his tired brown eyes. On the seat next to him was the thick gross anatomy book he had tried and failed to study as he waited. The only thing he could think about was his mother and father in that room and him waiting impotently here for the past four hours. A medical student, but still unable to do anything but sit and wait and pray.
His hand shook even as he contemplated yet another cup of coffee. There were a few other people in the surgical waiting room, even in the middle of the night when only emergency surgeries were performed. And it was an emergency, his mother made sure of it so that her husband would be the one to operate. Her faith in him unshakeable and despite Noah's own urging that someone less emotionally involved perform the surgery.
Patrick bent over and rested his face in his hands. Just then he heard the muted footsteps of shoes covered in surgical booties. He took a deep breath and looked up, his heart pounding. It was his father. He jumped up and tried to find a message in the face before. He looked infinitely older. Years older.
Too old.
"Dad?" Patrick's rusty voice croaked.
"I'm sorry, Son. I wasn't able to save her. Robin is dead."
Patrick awoke with a start, his bare torso and face shiny with sweat. His heart was pounding and his respirations too fast. He looked around in the unfamiliar, dark room trying to get his bearings. To separate now from then, from there to here. Where was here? This wasn't the hotel room at the Metrocourt that he'd been calling home for the past months.
Guest room. The guest room in Robin's house. She's fine. He kept repeating these things to himself as he tried to clear the panicked haze. But it was no use. He had to see for himself as he had every night for the past three weeks.
He pushed the tangled blanket off his body revealing that he was clad in blue scrub bottoms and got up and padded through the dark hallway to the partially open door of Robin's master bedroom. The dim light from the window lit Robin's peacefully sleeping figure, but still stuck in his dream and in the darkness she didn't look real so he walked into the room until he stood at her bedside.
She lay on side facing the empty side of the bed, her hair covering her cheek. He kneeled down on the floor and listened to her breathing, his own slowing down to match hers at this confirmation that she was all right. Her blanket was pushed down to her waist and he could see the pale skin of her back and shoulders above her white tank top.
Unable, or just unwilling to stop himself, he raised himself to lean over and gently brush the hair off her cheek so he could see her face. At his touch she shifted in the bed and her breath hitched. He held his own until he was sure she was not waking up. More awake now from the close call Patrick backed up and watched her for a moment more before turning and heading for the door.
"Patrick?"
His hand was resting on the doorknob and he froze. He slowly turned his head to see her head raised and her torso turned toward him. The huskiness of her sleepy voice made him shiver.
"I was just, uh, checking that you were all right."
"In the middle…at 2 in the morning?" She turned and sat up and rubbed her eyes.
"Habit. From the hospital." He let his eyes linger over her delectable form.
She dropped her hands and studied him for a long moment. He swallowed audibly.
"Are you okay?" she asked and bent her knees and wrapped her arms around them.
"Yeah. I told you…"
"You had a nightmare. What was it about?"
Patrick smiled and shook his head. "How in the world…"
"I can tell." She patted the bed at her feet.
He tilted his head and asked a silent "really" at which she nodded and he shrugged.
He sat down at her feet, his own feet firmly on the ground. Relief and bemusement was swiftly giving way to arousal.
"What was your nightmare about?"
Patrick cleared his throat and looked down at his hands. How much, if anything, did he really want to share? Could he tell her how she had become entwined with his mother in his dreams? What would she make that mean? He didn't even know, or want to know, what it meant.
"About the hospital."
"The virus?" She reached over and picked up the glass of water he had left at her bedside when he had tucked her in earlier.
"No. My mother's surgery."
"Oh." She reached out and put her hand on his. He turned his palm until their fingers were entwined. Gripping in the dark.
"I haven't been that emotionally invested in a surgery, in a patient since then. Not until now." The words came out without his conscious decision to say it. He braced himself and turned to look at her. Even in the dark her sympathy shined through, but it didn't feel like pity. Not from her. He blew out a breath.
"Perhaps you're maturing as a doctor?" she said.
Patrick quirked his lips at her comment and shrugged.
"Will you be able to get back to sleep?"
"Eventually." He didn't want to let go of her hand and go back down the hall to his room, but figured he was in for a slap if he suggested anything else.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No." Patrick shook his head, his heart pounding. Where were all of his smooth lines now when he needed them?
"Do you, maybe, want to sleep here with me?" Robin asked hesitantly. Before Patrick could answer she rushed on. "Sleep. Just sleep!" Even in the dark he could see her blush, but he could also appreciate the courage it took to ask.
"Yeah." He squeezed her hand. "I'll behave. If you insist." He tacked on with a chuckle.
She scooted over and lifted the edge of her covers. "This is a one night only deal and if you cross the line you're tossed out in the cold on your ass."
"My fine ass." Patrick waggled his eyebrows at her as she slid underneath the blankets onto the warm spot she just vacated.
"Patrick," she warned.
"Oh go to sleep, Doctor Sourpuss." Patrick waited until, after a quick glare at him, she lay back down on her side, her back to him. He slid behind her and slowly gathered her into his arms, waiting for and hoping she wouldn't warn him back. He let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding when she just settled up against him.
He closed his eyes and fell back asleep.
