Chapter Four
I hadn't even set foot on Port Charles soil, and already I was back in the madness of Jason's world. Sam convinced me to get on a train with her to come back to General Hospital and treat Jason. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy. I should have known that a madman who was after Sonny and Jason and everyone associated with them would crash the train I was on with Sam. That's just the way life is in Jason's world. Jason and Sonny found us in the wreckage, but unfortunately so did Manny Ruiz, said crazed madman, and he shot me. Two minutes back in Jason's orbit and already I've been shot. I want to help him, but I also just want to get back to my safe little life where I treat my patients and complete my research. Where no one gets killed by gunplay and where my main goal is to do no harm and actually save lives rather than take them. As long as I stick to medicine and stay out of this mob world, I'll be safe. I'll be okay.
This was the first time he had ever been alone in her bedroom. He stood in the doorway between her bedroom and the bathroom, bare-chested with a pair of Columbia sweatpants on. Rubbing a towel through his hair mindlessly, he remembered the last time he wore these sweats at her place. She had stared at his pants as she defiantly pulled her Yale t-shirt over her head. He had taken great pleasure in ripping it off of her minutes later, ending that night's version of "my school is better than yours" debate. Now, it was just quiet. That was the first thing he noticed, how deathly quiet it was without her there.
Things between Robin and Patrick were anything but quiet. There was always talking, be it full-fledged fighting or passionate discussions and lately there had been more and more laughter. Even when they were silent - in bed enjoying the Sunday Times, Robin wordlessly passing him the Sports section so he could see how the Oilers were doing in the Stanley Cup race - the quiet was not like this. This was suffocating him. He closed his eyes and wished he could hear her needle him on his choice of hockey teams. "Why," she always asked him, "would a man from New York follow the Edmonton Oilers? Where's your hometown pride?" He would kill for another go round of what sport is better: hockey or football, with Robin accusing him of being a secret agent from Canada, since everyone knew that football was America's sport. Instead, he was faced with silence. Just silence.
He walked, unseeing, to her side of the bed and collapsed on it. Rubbing his hand through his damp hair Patrick looked around, his glance ending on her bedside table. Her beeper was gone. He wasn't sure if the police had it, or if Robin had smuggled it with her when she was taken. Or when she left of her own free will. Frustrated, Patrick sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Just what the hell is going on here, Robin?" he whispered. Curious, he used his damp towel to wipe off the fingerprint dust residue from the nightstand and opened the drawer to see what was there. Maybe, he told himself, there would be a clue as to where she was. He smiled. "Look at me looking for clues. I've been hanging around your family too much, Scorpio." He dug in and pulled everything out and placed it on the bed next to him. Nothing screamed clue to Patrick. A couple of folded up Kleenex and spare buttons. An old issue of the New England Journal of Medicine, its pages marked with post-its. He flipped it open and noticed that most of the post-its were marking pages in an article about drug protocol X65746. Robin had written notes throughout the margins and over most of the post-its. It looked like she had disagreed with some of the findings that the author, a Dr. Renee Laurent, had concluded. It was the same protocol he had seen referenced in her email. It was nice to know that he wasn't the only doctor Robin was hounding. He put it aside and went back to the pile. There were a handful of pens, a pad of paper from St. Vincent's Hospital in Geneva, Switzerland, and a "Thinking of You" card from Brenda. He flipped it open and read the note she had written inside.
Robin
Hood - Please, don't even try to tell me that this
ass
just wants casual sex. A man who is not interested
in
you does not follow you halfway around the world to
help
you save your dad. Let's talk – same time as usual
and
I'll give you my insightful advice. Love, Bren
Patrick winced. She had horrible taste in men (Sonny Cornithos?), but Brenda sure could read them. She knew before he did, or at least before he was willing to admit it to himself, that he was interested in more than just a one-night stand with Robin.
He flicked the card aside and picked up the last item, a chocolate colored, leather bound journal, tied closed with leather straps. He paused momentarily, wondering if he should invade Robin's privacy this way, and then tore into it. He needed to find out what had happened to her, and this could provide him with some much needed insight. She'd just have to forgive him…if she ever found out. He sighed deeply and flipped through the book, seeing without really seeing. Words flashed by him, "And then who knocks at the door? Gwen, that Amazon from Grace Memorial…" "Dad told me I was frigid and old before my time tonight…" "It broke my heart to tell Maxie that he was gone. I flashed right back to October 1996 and my last moments with Stone…" He comprehended nothing until, "Dad doesn't approve of Patrick." That one stopped him. What the hell? He pulled her pillow out and pushed it against the headboard, settling in.
Dad doesn't approve of Patrick. How many fathers would be thrilled if their daughter was dating a brain surgeon? Not my dad. He likes Patrick well enough, they are so alike after all, but I think he'd prefer it if I was dating the chief of police, or better yet a WSB Agent – some sort of super spy who could keep me safe. What he forgets is I'm his daughter. For God's sake I'm a Scorpio and a Devane. I'm an expert shot (pistols, rifles, hell I could probably handle a rocket grenade launcher if I had to. Hmmm… note to self, maybe don't offer this information up to Patrick). I'm proficient in Krav Maga (Mom insisted we study together when we were both in Paris. She said you never knew when it would come in handy.) And I'm a black belt in jujitsu. I can take care of myself and Patrick too if need be. But who's going to come after me? I'm just a doctor, not a spy like Mom and Dad. And I'm no longer the girlfriend of a mob enforcer. The fact is I feel safer with Patrick than I've ever felt in any other relationship in my life. Mom, Dad, Duke, Stone, Jason…I had reason to look over my shoulder then. Not anymore. Now the only threat is to my heart…
Patrick shut the book, a lump in his throat, and clutched it to his chest. Her father was right; he hadn't been able to keep her safe. He thought he knew Robin so well, but did he really? Krav Maga? He wasn't even sure he knew what that was – he vaguely knew it had something to do with the Israeli Army, but what in the world was Robin studying it for? His heart jumped in his chest. Was it for this possibility? Someone coming into her home and taking her?
Except, Patrick swallowed and in his head heard Mac's words. "There's no sign of a struggle." The only struggle evident seemed to be Robin trying to decide what to pack. Patrick punched the pillow and lay down. He lay awake for a long time trying to fit all the pieces together.
5:00 am. The alarm clock was mocking him. It had been almost 24 hours since he'd last seen Robin. He knew he needed to get some sleep, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes knowing that Robin could be out there and in trouble. He pulled himself off of her bed and wandered into her office again.
He didn't know what he was looking for, so he wandered around the edge of the room, looking at the books on her bookshelves, flipping through files, examining all of the pictures placed around the room on every flat surface, before he sat down at her desk for the second time that night. He pulled the sheets of paper strewn across it and made a neat pile out of them, placing the pile to the side. He saw a small framed picture next to the monitor that he hadn't noticed earlier and picked it up. It was a picture of him and Robin at the race track. They were both wearing sunglasses, and she had her hair up in a ponytail and in a New York Giants ball cap (that darn football argument again), and they were both smiling like fools. It had been such a great day. Admittedly, he originally had taken her just to get her away from everything – the hospital, her father, any and all distractions. He wanted her all to himself and he didn't want to be interrupted. The fact that he got to share this experience, her first race, was a bonus. She'd loved the noise, the adrenalin, and the excitement of the race. This meal of corndogs and beer went infinitely better than the last debacle at the Metro Court, and he was able to whisk her off to the hotel room he had reserved for them without a word of protest from her. In fact, she had been just as eager to get to the room. Who knew a little NASCAR would make Robin Scorpio so hot. He put the picture down and rubbed his face again, searching the room for anything that would tell him where Robin was.
He could feel her breath on his cheek. "Paging Dr. Drake," she murmured. "Oh, Dr. Drake…"
He opened his eyes and fought to focus on her. She was smiling and leaning over him. A silver key hung from a chain around her neck and dangled above him. "Robin? Where have you been?" He sat up quickly and pulled her to him.
She laughed. "What is with you Patrick? I'm right here. I didn't go anywhere. Hey, what are you doing on my side of the bed? Didn't we have this fight already? When we're at my place I get the right side of the bed."
"What are you talking about? You didn't show up for your shift at GH today. Your Uncle Mac had a team of CSI's here going over your stuff with a fine tooth comb. You're mom is worried about you and I've been going crazy."
Robin stood up smiling, and started to walk away. Her bare feet made imprints in the blue fingerprint dust Patrick noticed covering the floor. He looked down at her feet, and then up to her face, confused.
"Robin? Where are you going?"
She tossed him a look over her shoulder and just smiled. He heard a phone ring and Robin looked down at her hands. She turned around and held the phone out to him. "It's for you."
Patrick's eyes popped open. The ringing was shrill and cut through his head sounding right in his ear. He suddenly realized he was slumped over Robin's desk and that it was his cell phone making the noise. He had taken his phone with him from room to room the night before, in case Robin had tried to call him, and he must have dropped it on her desk at some point before passing out. He flipped it open urgently. "Robin?"
"No mate, I'm sorry, it's me." Aidan sounded pained.
"Have you found her?"
Aidan paused, unsure how to broach this with him. Patrick sounded like he was at the end of his rope, and Aidan didn't want to be the one to send him spiraling over the edge. He took a deep breath and decided to plunge right in. "No. But we've found her car."
