A/N: There's some simple math to do. Sonny is dead, that leaves one contract spot open – that's Brenda. Now, Big Daddy Scorpio needs to come back, and then Mamma Luv needs to come back, therefore I need at least two more contract spots to open up. And Noah, Noah needs to be on contract. So that leaves 3 people to dump. Hmmmm. Are you with me! Hee.

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If You're Not the One - 18
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We'll make it through
And I hope you are the one I share my life with
And I wish that you could be the one I die with
And I'm praying you're the one I build my home with
I hope I love you all my life
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Patrick was sitting clad only in a pair of scrub bottoms on a gurney in pre-op when Robin walked in and closed the door. He was scribbling on a pad of paper and looked up when she entered, smirked and then continued his writing. She wondered what he was writing – his last will and testament or a manifesto on seducing women to leave behind as his legacy. With Patrick you never knew if you were going to get the brilliant man beneath or the cocky playboy bravado. Robin was secretly thrilled by the unexpectedness of him.

"I'm not under anesthesia yet." Robin looked up from his chest to find his brown eyes twinkling knowingly at her. "Couldn't wait to ogle, huh?"

Having been caught red handed and red faced she just shrugged and sat down on the bed next to him. As she settled the reality of the situation made her stomach flutter and she blew out an audible breath trying to calm herself. She thought she had clamped down on these feelings before she walked into the room.

"Hey." He put the pad down on the pillow and looked down at Robin. "You're really worried." He sounded surprised. "There's less than a five percent chance something will happen to me. Not that your concern isn't touching."

Shit, Robin thought, searching her mind for something to cover her fear, but she couldn't bring herself to fall in line with his teasing. She was really worried. Instead, she covered her face with her hands and nodded to let him know she heard and understood, she just didn't believe. She'd been having a really bad feeling about this eventuality for the last few days - that if he was the donor that something bad was going to happen to him.

Patrick pulled her hand off her face and leaned down to look her in the face. "You're supposed to be making me feel calm." He wasn't the least bit put out by her worry, in fact he was touched by it.

"I'm just really scared for you, Patrick." Robin gripped his hand and looked up at him. Robin Scorpio did not scare easy and if she was scared she never showed it. It gave him some idea of how much she had come to care for him, maybe even love him. The word came easily to him now. Even though he wasn't worried, neither was he going to miss the opportunity to do or say what needed to be said in case he didn't get the chance to later. He had already done that with his father. With that in mind he had spent the moments since he had left Robin's side to prep for this surgery getting real with himself; and in getting real he had realized that he loved her. An unexpected, but not unwelcome revelation. He had a feeling his mother would have adored Robin and he knew that his father did.

Looking at the fear in Robin's eyes now, though, he decided that distracting her took priority over saying something that would make it seem like her fears had validity. He was going to make it, there was no way he was not going to have the opportunity to spend a lifetime with this woman. And if that declaration didn't scare him then some piddling surgery sure as hell wasn't going to. "Then maybe you should give me something to look forward to?" He bit his bottom lip and winked suggestively. Robin let out a surprised laugh at his provocative statement. She shook her head and leaned against him and sighed. "Come on, you know you want to."

"Now that you mention it." Robin looked up at Patrick, still looking scared, but obviously forcing herself into a good humor for his sake. Patrick licked his bottom lip and his dimple flashed as he contemplated just how he wanted her to kiss him. But she didn't give him a chance to decide when she surged against him and slammed her lips hungrily into his and almost toppling him over. His pad and pen clattered to the floor.

Her hands were everywhere, feeling the smooth skin over hard muscles and most importantly his warmth, his very alive heat. Patrick's eager hands buried themselves in Robin's hair and pushed them down until she was on her back. The kiss gentled, their hands slowed into tender caresses and went on and on. Eventually, Patrick pulled back and stroked Robin's hair off her face and looked down at her.

"What?" Robin asked in a breathy voice, her eyes darting away from his and back.

"I just want to look at you so I have something to dream about while I'm out."

Robin blushed. "You're unbelievable. Here you are about to go into surgery to save your father's life and you're still spouting ridiculous come-ons." Her smile communicated her desire to recast the conversation in the locker room that had gone awry and he instantly caught on. It was a moment that still haunted him. One that he went over again and again in his mind, cringing at the memory of him milking his hurt feelings while missing the signs that she was ill; hearing it echo in his head when she started to apologize and what he was certain now would have been her admission that she was feeling sick.

"Honey, you're the one who attacked me. Besides." He moistened his bottom lip. "I was being sincere."

Robin nodded and a couple of tears streamed down her cheeks.

"It's really going to be okay," Patrick whispered. "You've definitely given me something to live for."

"Me too," Robin admitted and gently lovingly stroked his cheek.

Patrick leaned down and pressed his forehead to hers.

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Robin held two envelopes in her hand.

"Don't open them unless I don't…wake up."

One was addressed to Noah and the other to Robin. Patrick had given them to her before she had left him in pre-op and her hands had been shaking when she slipped them into her lab coat and she had quickly put them out of her way in her locker before scrubbing up to observe in the O.R.

He hadn't wanted to give them to her, but when she had asked what he was writing he had immediately seen that appearing to lie to her would only make her worry worse. So he had given them to her for safekeeping, careful to keep a teasing tone in his voice and following it up immediately with a searing kiss and the whisper that he just wanted to make sure there were no regrets, nothing unsaid.

Those words too echoed in her head and her hands were shaking now as she looked down on them. They, she, had come too close to having to open them. It was in that moment when the machines started to beep that she realized how deeply embedded into her heart Patrick Drake had become. Far from being a little bit in love, she was in fact, she admitted now, averse to living without him.

Stop it, she ordered herself away from those morbid thoughts. He was fine now and recovering in the transplant unit. He would be waking up soon and on the road to making peace with his father.

And she still really, really wanted to read his letter.

Which, Patrick probably knew when he gave it to her instead of someone else for safekeeping. It probably said "Boo" or "Gotcha" so something, she rolled her eyes.

But what if it was his last confession? Something along the lines of what he had said to her when they thought she was going to die during the epidemic and before they had shared countless heated kisses and aborted dates. Before she knew for certain she was in love with him. What, just what if that amazing man felt the same way about her?

The envelopes weren't even sealed, he never had to know.

If Brenda was here she'd open them.

None of her rationalizations were working and it was driving her simply mad. Scowling, she put the envelopes back in her pocket and headed back to Patrick's room to check on him, again.