Seven

"Now that we're dating we tell each other if we're planning to do things or go places, right?" Patrick and Robin were sitting at the breakfast bar in her kitchen. She was wearing her short, yellow silk robe and he was wearing just his boxer briefs and they were eating the omelets that Patrick had insisted on fixing them for breakfast before heading off to the hospital to work. They weren't in a rush because sometime over the past few weeks Patrick's belongings had slowly made their way into her closets and bathroom and visa versa.

"We share information about each other's lives." Robin turned her head and frowned. Dating was not exactly her area of expertise either. She seemed to either have relationships or not. No need to tell him that, though. "Like what?"

"Say, if you were thinking about or planning to move we'd talk about it," Patrick said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Moving? I think that's something we'd share." She chuckled and took a sip of orange juice.

"So, are you?"

"I just moved into this apartment. Are you thinking of moving out that hotel, finally?" Robin asked hopefully.

"What's wrong with where I live?" Patrick asked, trying not to laugh at Robin's expression.

"Other than I feel like I should wear sunglasses and a trench coat when I come in and out? Other than the fact that you have no kitchen? Other than the fact that it's completely impersonal and transitory? And when we're both there there's no privacy whatsoever because it's one room? Gee, I don't know, why would you want to maybe get a more permanent home?" Robin shrugged and took a bite of the omelet.

"So, you have an opinion about it?" Patrick smirked. "Hotel living is easy. Every time I think about moving it just seems easier not to. We were talking about you moving, though." He pointed his fork at her.

"But, I'm not moving, nothing to talk about." She shrugged and took another bite of omelet. "This is really good, Patrick. I must say I'm surprised."

"What, you think I just got women to cook for me all these years?"

"Well, yes, and the fact that you don't have a kitchen seemed to be a give away."

"I can take care of myself. My mom taught me. Now, stop changing the subject. Do you have any plans to move to Paris or Rome?"

"I wasn't aware there was a subject and no I don't have any plans in the immediate future to move back to Europe. My only Rome plans are to go spend my birthday with Brenda in October. Where did you get that idea from?"

"I thought I heard you say you wanted to live in Rome." He shrugged and took a bite of the omelet while a deep sense of relief settled in at her negative answer.

Robin tilted her head and look at him curiously.

"Have you seen Dr. Drake, Epiphany?" Robin put down the pile of files she was carrying down onto the counter. She was exhausted, even her green scrubs looked droopy. She had just spent the last ten hours in the lab working on an experiment that was proving more difficult in practice than the research paper she was recreating implied. Clearly, there were flaws in the article and she was going to have to solve them before she got to the point where she could add the variants she had planned. She didn't know if the problems were from the journal's requirements or if the underlying research was flawed. Tomorrow she would have to contact the scientists responsible for the work. She was tired and frustrated. She could use a good distraction.

"He got out of surgery about half an hour ago; he rushed in and out of here like there was a fire somewhere. I thought he was going to look for you."

"I haven't seen him. I'm going to get out of here myself." She picked up her pile of papers again and headed for her office to put them away.

Robin hated that she felt even a bit of disappointment that she hadn't seen Patrick all day and that they hadn't made any plans for tonight. She knew it was unrealistic to expect they spend every night together and she knew it was a good idea that they spend some time apart if she was feeling so attached to his company. They were just dating, after all, even if they had pretty much spent every night together for the past couple of months.

"Well, tonight," she told herself, "You are cooking a healthy dinner, taking a bath and having some much needed alone time!" She shifted her overloaded bag to her other shoulder as she pushed through the side doors to the hospital. She could certainly spend a night without Patrick Drake. She had tons of things to catch up on. Journal articles. Emails to her friends in France. A good chat with Brenda if she was home. A speech to write for the conference she was speaking at next month. Plenty of things to….keep herself busy. She sighed as the doors closed behind her. It felt like keeping busy, too. She was just contemplating dropping in at a dance class at the studio when she spotted him.

She stopped short as she saw Patrick chatting with a tall, leggy brunette across the street. The woman was working him; she could see that from here. Flirting, chatting animatedly and then she put her hand on Patrick's arm causing Robin's temper to rise. Patrick's expression looked friendly, charming, totally relaxed. She wanted to throw something at him. Then he helped the woman into the driver's side of the Mercedes they were standing next to and walked around and got into the passenger side of the car.

Robin felt like she had been punched in the gut and tears came to her eyes.

Robin leaned back in her desk chair and smiled proudly. Actually, it was more of a bitter grimace, but she didn't care. She had been working steadily for the past three hours and she felt satisfied with her accomplishments. Every lingering email was answered, everything was organized into folders, she had a solid outline for her speech at the Pharmacology conference she was speaking at in September and she had even created a detailed schedule for the research she was working on. None of it chased away the feelings of hurt. She was, however, finally exhausted enough in mind and body to go to sleep as soon as her pillow hit the bed.

As she prepared for bed, no amount of logical self-talk chased away the dread she felt for the next day and facing Patrick. No reminders of how Patrick was free to date other women chased away the feeling of betrayal that simmered in her stomach. She was just pulling back the covers on her bed when her doorbell rang. Her eyes immediately went to the clock and saw that it was just after 9:30. She dropped the covers, grabbed her yellow robe to put over her tank top and sleep shorts and went to answer the door. She had a good idea who it was and why he was there. "Play it cool," she told herself before she opened the door.

"What are you doing here?" Robin asked through the partially open door. Her words and tone remained formal, but her eyes drank in Patrick's dark, good looks. It was sinful how much she had missed him and how much he wanted him, despite being furiously angry with him.

"I have some news that I thought would make you happy," Patrick said, either unaware or ignoring the cold tone of her voice.

"You could have called. You don't get to just drop by you know."

Patrick's smile slipped. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he asked.

"Did it never occur to you that I might be busy?"

He looked down at her bare legs and back up to her face. "Are you?" His tone was short.

"I was going to bed," she admitted. She rolled her eyes when she saw his responsive lustful smirk. "Didn't you get enough tonight already?" she said before she could stop herself.

"What are you talking about? Will you let me in so your neighbors don't hear every word we say?"

Robin hesitated for a moment before letting him in. She stayed standing by the door and crossed her arms. "What's this news that just couldn't wait?" she asked, testily.

"First, what the hell is your problem?"

Robin tapped her foot and looked away, then back at him. "Fine. You want to know? You might be free to go out with whomever you want, but when that date refuses to sleep with you you don't get to just show up here for sex."

Patrick stiffened and his face went carefully blank. "And this is what you think I'm doing? No questions asked, just another assumption from the brilliant and suspicious mind of Robin Scorpio." He put his hands on his hips.

"I saw you." Robin cleared her throat, but kept her eyes locked with his, though she felt a strong urge to look away.

"You saw me what?" Patrick sighed.

"I saw you get into a car with that woman."

"And you got jealous." He grinned, although his eyes were still angry. "Do I not have the right to date whomever I want?"

"Yes," Robin snapped. "That's not the point, the point is you showing up here when the date obviously didn't go the way you hoped. Did she not want to sleep with you since you're sleeping with someone with HIV?"

"I should really let you think that," Patrick said in a low tone. His grin was gone now and his face and his tone betrayed his weariness. "The woman you saw was my realtor who found me the perfect apartment that I just made an offer on tonight before rushing over here to tell you about it. I wrongly assumed you'd be happy about that since you were just saying how uncomfortable you were at the hotel."

Ah shit. Robin's jaw dropped open and her stomach sank. She dropped her arms from their defensive position.

"I'm getting really sick and tired of you jumping down my throat and assuming the worst about me all the time."

Robin blew out a breath. "What is it you want me to think about you, Patrick?" she asked quietly.

"Are you trying to blame me for this?" He scowled at her.

"No. Not really. I am sorry for jumping down your throat, but as for assuming the worst you're the one who's always telling me you're going to hurt me, that you don't know how to commit or be faithful and who takes great pains to remind me about the limitations on our arrangement. What am I supposed to think when I see you smiling at a woman that way and then you leaving together? Then you show up here in the middle of the night all ready to roll!" She threw her hands up in the air. "Just this morning we talked about your moving and you said you weren't planning on it."

"It's not even ten, Robin, hardly the middle of the night." His tone was dry. "And this morning I wasn't planning on it. I'd talk to Kim a few times, but hadn't been motivated before now, but you said you were uncomfortable so this afternoon I called her up and told her what I wanted and now it's done."

Robin's shoulders dropped. "It feels like the middle of the night." She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. "I understand if this is just getting too hard for you." She opened her eyes and looked at him, her heart in her throat.

"Hard for me or hard for you? I think you're the one with the problem, Robin, not me. The slightest bit of evidence and you think I'm jumping ship or using you. How about giving me more credit than that for once?"

"Do you want to tell me about the apartment?" she asked in a small voice.

"I think I'm just going to go home, we can talk about it tomorrow." He walked towards her and the door.

Robin put her hand on his arm. She bit her lip and her pride. "Stay, please," she asked in a quiet voice.

"Are you sure that's what you want, Robin? If I'm such a horrible person why would you want me to?"

"It's what I want. You're not horrible, I don't think that. I really am sorry. Will you stay?"

Patrick paused for a moment, before nodding and turning to follow Robin to the bedroom.

TBC