Distorted Fear

By: Athena13 & Pugmom

A/N: This takes place beginning October 2006.

Chapter One

The following is an excerpt from The New England Journal of Medicine: "Brain Microstructure in Neurodegeneration and Neuroprotection" by Dr. Renee Laurent, St. Vincent's Hospital, Geneva, Switzerland

"Distorted fear is a condition which allows the patient to be gripped by panic in situations normally found to be non-threatening by the general population. It can be manifested anywhere from the ability to take action and take charge in a situation, to allowing oneself to fall in love. While there are known cases where drug protocols have caused the infliction, most often distorted fear is brought on by childhood traumas. Life experiences where a child's needs were threatened by betrayal, rejection or abandonment can bring about the onset. The current course of treatment involves intense psychotherapy, however, recent strides made with drug protocol X65746 are extremely promising…"


She couldn't put her finger on it, this feeling she had. The fluttery feeling in the pit of her stomach. The need to break out in a spontaneous smile. The glowing warmth from head to toe. Was it happiness? Joy? Contentment – that was it. Robin stretched naked in her bed, pulling the sheets around her tightly. She could hear Patrick in her shower singing "Born to Run" and giggled. She was actually giddy. Robin Scorpio, giddy as a schoolgirl. What do you know? There actually is a use for that phrase. She rolled over onto her stomach and laid her hand on Patrick's side of the bed. The sheets were still warm where he had been just moments earlier.

'Finally,' she thought. It had taken months for them to get there. Months of pushing and pulling, misunderstandings and miscommunications, when all either of them really wanted was each other. Now, finally, a naked Patrick Drake was in her shower. The thought made her giggle again. Yep, giddy was a good word to describe her. The water turned off suddenly and seconds later Patrick appeared in her doorway wearing nothing but a towel. A very small towel. Robin silently congratulated herself for not doing laundry that weekend, and she made a mental note to hide all of her bath sheets whenever Patrick spent the night.

"I smell like a field of gardenias."

"That's lavender, Patrick. And vanilla. It's supposed to relieve tension."

Patrick grinned. "Well, I can think of a better way to do that."

Robin sat up smiling, clutching the top of the sheet to her chest with her right hand, and leaned in to smell him. "Mmmm…" she breathed him in. "You sure do smell pretty, Dr. Drake." She let go of the sheet and pulled the back of his head to her for a slow, lingering kiss, then quickly pulled the towel off like she was removing a band-aid and threw it over his head. She laughed into their kiss.

"Well, now you've done it, Scorpio." Wrapping his arm around her tiny waist he flipped her on her back. "Now, what are you going to do?" Patrick's brown eyes twinkled with ideas and that darn dimple deepened. God, she loved that dimple. It made her want to do things…

"What am I going to do? This." She wrapped one tanned leg around his waist and flipped him over, rolling herself on top of him. She was freakishly strong for her size.

Patrick laughed. He couldn't believe his luck. "Well, aren't you the forceful one?"

"You have no idea." Placing her hands on either side of his head, she leaned down slowly. Patrick licked his lips in anticipation when suddenly the high pitched squeal of a beeper broke the mood. Robin stopped mid-lean.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," Patrick fumed. He grabbed the two beepers from the nightstand and stared at them in frustration. "Dammit, it's me. I've got to go." Robin rolled off of him and lay down next to him so they were side by side on their backs. Patrick angled his head so it was touching the top of hers. "So, what are you doing tonight?"

"That depends."

He gave her a slow smile. "I think you may be ready for level two in emotional intimacy."

"Level two? We're only on level two?"

Patrick rolled off the bed and quickly started to dress. "Well, you failed level one. The racecars? I had to go buy three new track segments after your temper tantrum."

"What? I failed? Oh, I think you are sadly mistaken. You – "

"Let's not argue about level one. Now, level two. Are you ready?"

She smiled despite herself. "I know I'll regret asking this, but what exactly is level two?"

"I cook you dinner. We'll have to do it here since I don't have a kitchen, but I think I can make do with what you've got."

"I'm getting Top Ramen for dinner, aren't I?"

"Please. That's for amateurs. I'm making you my special macaroni and cheese."

"Oh, well, in that case how can I resist? Will you be serving the regular elbow macaroni or can I get my hopes up for the Sponge Bob pasta?"

"You mock, but I'm making it from scratch. My mom taught me." He finished buttoning his shirt and sat on the side of the bed to put his shoes on. "It was my dad's favorite meal, so Mom and I made it all the time. Some of my favorite memories are of grating cheese while telling my mom about my day."

"That's actually very sweet. The closest my mom and I ever got to making dinner for my father was when we dialed for take-out."

He crossed to the dresser and grabbed his watch, fastening it to his wrist. "So we're on for tonight?"

"Yeah, we're on. Oh wait!" Robin leaned over to her nightstand and rustled through the drawer. She pulled a small shiny object out. "I may be late tonight – my last appointment is a consult with your father. Why don't you take this and let yourself in?" She held a silver key out to him.

Patrick stared at it. He knew that he must look like a deer caught in the headlights, but he couldn't move.

Robin let a small laugh escape. "Patrick, it's not that big a deal. Just let yourself in so you can get to work in the kitchen." She couldn't help but laugh – the poor boy looked positively terrified. "C'mon. It's my dream come true. You. Barefoot and in the kitchen." She finally catches his eye, and sees a determined look come over him.

"Are you trying to scare me, Scorpio? Because it won't work. I passed level one."

"Oh, you hardly passed level one, Patrick. You shut me out and –"

Patrick grabbed her hand and the key in it and shot her his patented Doc Hottie smile. His voice dropped an octave. "I will be here. Waiting." With that he took his free hand and cupped Robin's face to kiss her. They slowly pulled apart, eyes focused on each other.

"Bye," she whispered, smiling at his retreating frame.

"I'll see you later."

Once she heard the click of her front door, Robin let out a big sigh and fell back in bed. Yep. Giddy.


Ding

There was nothing like the fourth floor nurses station on a Monday afternoon. It was gossip central, and Patrick wanted no part of it today. It was only 1:15 and he'd already completed one surgery. The rest of his day was shaping up to be a bear. He raced out of the elevator, ducked his head, and walked around the periphery, catching snippets of conversation.

"Has anybody talked to her?"

"…not like her to be so late…"

"I thought Dr. Scorpio lived here…"

"Anybody have Robin's cell number? Her one o'clock is here."

Patrick smiled as he reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He flipped it open, dialing the number that was fast becoming more familiar than his own, and listened to her answering machine message. "Hey, Scorpio did you go back to bed after I left? Listen, everyone is looking for you over here so if you haven't left yet get your sweet ass out of bed and over to the hospital. If you hurry I might be able to squeeze in a consult in the 6th floor supply closet to hold you over until tonight."


By early evening Patrick had finally found his way back to the locker room. The Bennett surgery had gone well, a fact he had been sure of, but after the last two spectacular losses he'd suffered his surgical team had held its breath. It looked like Dr. Drake was back to form.

The door opened and Noah walked in. Patrick looked up and smiled at him. This thing with Robin was seriously having an effect on him if he could feel magnanimous enough to give his dad a smile at the end of a 14 hour shift.

"Hey, Dad. Do me a favor and don't keep Robin all night with all of your talk about Port Charles back in the good old days. She has plans tonight."

"That's actually why I've been looking for you. It's Robin. She never showed up for work today."


Patrick didn't understand why everyone was so freaked out. What was it about Port Charles that caused its citizens to panic at the slightest variance from the norm? The fact that Robin skipped one day of work was not a sign of the coming apocalypse but you couldn't tell that from the reaction Patrick got from her family and friends. He thought back to that morning. She was fine when he left her. No sign that she was feeling sick or rundown. Well, maybe he had run her down a little bit the night before. And that morning. Twice. But she was fine, healthy, when he left. He tried to call her but got her answering machine and decided that he would just head over there to see for himself what was going on.

His first mistake was asking Maxie if she had spoken to her cousin that day. "Why?" She jumped and swiveled away from the cart of meds she was standing in front of. When he explained that Robin had missed all of her appointments that day, her eyes got wide. "Have you called my dad yet?"

"No. Why would I call the police commissioner-"

"She's a Scorpio. Her parents were both WSB agents. Do you know how many times she's been kidnapped?" Maxie ticked off each point on a finger.

Trying to dodge Maxie and her proclamations of doom and gloom, he nearly sprinted to the fourth floor nurse's station where he could see Liz making notes in a chart. Patrick thought Liz would have been a voice of reason, but instead she threw out words like kidnapped again, expert marksman, and espionage. 'What is wrong with these people,' he wondered. 'Robin is a medical researcher, not James Bond.' Sure, she had taken off without a second thought to rescue her father in the South Pacific and inexplicably she had wielded a machete down there like a native in the Amazon, but that was a far cry from the girl Liz was describing, wasn't it?

He checked his cell phone again on the way out of the building. No new messages. "Damn it!" He cursed Robin's friends for planting ideas in his head. There were plenty of reasons that would explain why Robin had missed work today. Maybe her father and his partner in crime, Luke Spencer, had gotten themselves into trouble again. Or maybe her friend Brenda had called with another crisis. He and Robin hadn't been dating that long, but he was very familiar with her best friend – she called a lot for a woman on the other side of the ocean. Hell, she could have just been worn out by their night together. He was Patrick Drake after all. It wouldn't be the first time a woman couldn't drag herself out of bed, although usually he was in the bed with them at the time. By the time he had parked and locked his car, Patrick had convinced himself he would find her deep in conversation with Brenda, gushing about his sexual prowess.

The feeling of dread actually overtook him even before he saw her front door sitting ajar. He hesitated a moment before pushing the door in gently, slowly looked around the living room, and then stepped inside. Maybe he should call the police first? Wasn't this always the way the stupid teen died in horror flicks?

Suddenly an arm wrapped around his neck and flung him to the ground, his assailant planting her foot on his Adam's apple when he was prostrate below her.

"Who are you?"

Patrick noted her crisp English accent. She was beautiful. He briefly wondered if he could flirt his way out of this situation.

"I said who are you?" Her heel dug into his throat a little deeper.

No, probably not. "Dr. Drake. Dr. Patrick Drake. Who are you?" He was annoyed that his voice cracked on the last word. Shit. He really was not prepared for Robin's world, was he?

"Patrick…" the woman looked perplexed for a second and then a look of recognition passed over her features. "Oh God." She quickly removed her foot and helped him up, dusting him off. "So you're Robin's Patrick. Lovely to meet you."

"You are?" Patrick rubbed his throat.

"Oh. Of course, I'm sorry. I'm Anna. Devane. Robin's mother." She held out her hand and smiled. "So, where's my daughter?"

"That seems to be the million dollar question tonight. She didn't show up for work today, so I headed over here to check on her. To be honest, I half expected to find her on the phone with you or Brenda. Or maybe on the internet tracking down her father on his latest bumbling adventure."

"Robert? What did that bastard do now? Did he take off again?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. You know, let me try her cell phone again. That thing is practically attached to her ear. I'm sure wherever she is she's got it with her." Patrick walked over to the phone on the credenza in the hallway and dialed. After a couple of seconds, a low hum started to pulsate. "What the heck is that?" Patrick asked.

Anna's head swiveled, searching. Her eyes settled on Robin's couch, where a cell phone did a little vibration dance, red light flashing. "We've found her cell."

Patrick stared at her and slowly lowered the phone onto its cradle.

"Patrick, just where the hell is my daughter?"

TBC