Once again, thank you all for your reviews. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story. And, as always, breaks are gonna look like this -- !BREAK!

Two Days Later

The late summer night air was warm and smelled of ebbing exhaust. The moon hung heavy in the sky as the city of Port Charles settled into evening. As people went about their normal activities Emily studied the landscape that was slowly becoming familiar from the hospital roof.

Below her the city sprawled and she looked out into it for some glimmer of recognition. This attempt was a fruitless as her previous visits to the roof for solitude. She had yet to remember anything and the muffled sounds of life did little to soothe the tension that had taken a vicious hold over her. It wasn't just the weight of expectation she felt from most everyone claiming bonds to her, but the empty feeling she awoke with – she was hollow.

That was the only way Emily could think to describe it. Not that she shared that particular thought with anyone. Explaining to someone how you were half a person, less then really, especially when they remembered the person you were and wanted them back – it made her ache.

It also made her mad. Which is why she had snapped at Sonny. Not that she apologized to him for it or allowed him to. Instead she asked Jason to keep him away. Her brother – thinking of him so still surprised and pleased her – had promised he would, and she hadn't received another visit from the charismatic man. Too bad Nikolas didn't listen as well.

The chance of running into him or anyone from her previous life had her dreading leaving hospital. Not that she wasn't ready to get out of the stale environment of the hospital. Like it or not though it was the only one she knew. There was a comfort in that. In knowing something amongst the chaos.

"I thought I find out here," Patrick said in way of greeting as he joined her on the rooftop.

"A little late for poking and prodding," Emily commented as he came to stand beside her.

He flashed one of his killer smiles. "What can I say? You're my favorite patient."

His declaration made her laugh. It was an easy laugh and she had few of those. In fact, she had few easy moments of any kind since waking up. Those she managed to have tended to around Patrick or Jason. And she knew it was because of their acceptance of her. Of how she was, because Emily couldn't say that she knew who she was.

If she didn't have them to help relieve the growing knots of emotions tightening inside she didn't know where she'd be. "So you will miss me," she teased knocking her shoulder playfully against his.

"I'm sure your weekly check-ups will cure me of that quickly," he said, falling into their pattern of easy banter and flirting.

"Fun-NY," she stretched the word.

"I thought so," Patrick replied. He turned and rested his hip against the ledge of the building. Emily continued her study of the skyline while he considered her. It was easier for him to read her now then before the accident. Her ways had been quiet, a shield she used to keep people from digging further then she wanted. He didn't see much difference between the Emily Quartermaine that stood beside now and the woman he had started to know.

She was just unedited. And a tad more flirty. Patrick didn't mind either attribute. He enjoyed the way Emily thought and expressed herself. He enjoyed her. That was beginning to concern him, but he didn't know how to take a step back at this point. Not with Nikolas and the Quartermaines breathing down her neck. Still he couldn't help but think Emily being discharged was for the best.

There would be no more random visits by her room or walks around the floor. The likelihood of bumming into her outside the hospital was slim since he practically lived there. There would be no more flirting that would leaving him wondering and wanting. That was a good thing Patrick knew and yet he also knew that he would miss it. "I know that face," he said breaking the silence between them. "Want to tell me what's wrong?"

"Nothing, at least nothing you can do anything about," she replied a resigned look on her face.

"Try me," Patrick cajoled.

Sighing, Emily hunched and rested her elbows on the ledge. She clasped her hands so she could rest her chin on them. "I have no idea what life is like outside these walls Patrick. And if that wasn't bad enough there is this life I don't remember just waiting there for me. I could pick it up. I know the Quartermaines would prefer that I did – that I try, but I don't know how. I don't know how to walk into a life I don't remember and start in the middle of it."

"It's not that I'm fond of lousy décor or the food, but I'm … I'm apprehensive about leaving the hospital. I mean half of her, MY," she stressed, reminding herself, "family is certifiable. They care – they've made that clear, loudly. But I really don't know how she dealt with them. Heart and soul of the Quartermaines," a slight tinge of bitterness soaked her words. "Savoir of the family, mediator, fixer of problems, and confidante. She's a freggin' saint in their eyes."

A shiver passed along her spine. "I may not know what my favorite color is or what I like on my sundae, but I'm certain that I am no saint. I've been thinking," Emily hesitated, to confide or not? She felt Patrick's hazel eyes on hers. Waiting, but not with a pressured gaze so many had leveled at her. "I might leave," she whispered. "No note, no warnings. I'd just walk out of the hospital and never look back."

Instead of challenging her like she expected he merely asked, "What's stopping you?"

"Everything," Emily admitted straightening herself. "Everything I don't know about myself, everything I know about her. Patrick I don't think I can go out into the wide world and face it alone, with no past. What kind of future could I have if I did that? I mean I know how to do things – I have knowledge of languages and medicine, I can work a remote control but the bigger picture is all but blank."

"It would be easier to leave," he remarked.

"No it wouldn't," she insisted.

"Sure it would Emily. You leave and there are no reminders of who people want you to be," he pointed out. Patrick gave her a moment to absorbed that notion before he continued. "No expectations. You can do or say anything you want and there won't be anyone there to second guess you, or make you second guess yourself. No comparisons. You'd just be you."

"Whoever that is," she said quietly. Learning about everyone else was easy, but the thought of discovering who was intimidated her like nothing else. What if she didn't like who she turned out to be? What if no one liked her?

As if reading her thoughts Patrick began to speak: "Well, let's see shall we? You're resilient. You woke up with no past, no sense of who you are and instead of lashing out in anger you've tried to be understanding. That hasn't stopped you from speaking your mind though. You'll listen, but when someone ticks you off you let them know it. You don't pull your punches and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Except for the fact that she would," Emily retorted.

"But you are not her," he stated. "You might not ever be the Emily Quartermaine everyone wants you to be. Look, I liked her. She was sweet and brave but the things that made her Emily – her experiences and memories – they're lost to you. You might never remember them, so you can't be her, no matter much other people might want it. Or even you might want it. You're not that girl. You're a new Emily. This wise-cracking, tenderhearted, hardheaded woman. And like her. Given a chance to accept what's happening I know everyone else will like her too."

His words, the way he saw her astounded and touched Emily. He saw her, when no else had, not even Jason, Patrick saw her. Not just a shadow of this other person who was lacking. In his eyes she wasn't a broken girl in need of fixing, she just was. Hearing that made her breath catch and filled her heart with something she couldn't quite place. All Emily knew was that for the first time since she woke up she felt like she could be a whole person, memories or no. The feeling was so overwhelming, so bright with the colors of happiness that she felt giddy.

It was a new and heady experience.

Without thinking or giving Patrick any clue as her actions Emily leaned up on tip-toes and captured his lips with her own. It was her first kiss and she found the odd combination of softness and firmness there. She felt her blood heat, urging her forward. Wanting more.

She would have gone for it to, but Patrick placed his wide hands on her shoulders and separated them. Emily could read the sharp look of passion in his eyes, but it wasn't the only thing she saw there. "Em—"

"I know, I know," she cut off his attempt to explain why kissing him wasn't a good thing. "You don't do relationships, and I'm not sure I'm equipped for one, but I like you too Patrick Drake."

Patrick didn't respond to her declaration. Instead he took a step back from her and watched with his heart jack-hammering while she crossed the roof to the door and then disappeared into the hospital. He knew he was in trouble. Deeper then any he'd skimmed the surface with when he'd been with Robin. "I'm won't — I'm not falling for Emily Quartermaine," he muttered his denial into the night air.

!BREAK!

The Next Day

Her room had changed over the years. It had gone from a young girl's room housing a pet spider to a teenager's room that had been plastered with photographs ranging from professional shots of Brenda to haphazard pictures with friends, and had finally transformed into a woman's room when Emily returned home. Loud bright colors were replaced by softer tones, but the warmth of the room that had made it distinctively Emily's was still there.

"Should we pack her journal?" Alan asked. He stood at the end of their daughter's bed. Clothes and personal effects were laid out over it as they struggled with what to pack for her. After the tense encounters at the hospital it was decided that Emily, should she chose, would go stay with Jason.

The look of relief on her daughter's face when she was given the option stung. It wasn't personal Monica reminded herself. Emily just felt more comfortable around Jason and if she was staying with him she wouldn't have the expectant eyes of every Quartermaine on her. Still, she wanted Emily in her house, but more then that, she wanted Emily to want to be here.

"I don't know," Monica replied tracing her hand over a picture of Emily, AJ, and Jason. There were too few pictures of her children together. "I'd like to send this," she said lifting the framed photograph, "but I don't want to seem like we're pushing her."

"We can't not push her either Monica. I know you're worried that we might lose her the way we lost Jason. I have that fear as well," he told her. "But she has to know that we love her and that she has a family. We need to try – we need to be there, so she knows that."

"I think we've made that clear already," Monica remarked returning the picture to its home. There were others they were including, ones without AJ or Skye in them. There were some things that neither she nor Alan felt up to explaining. "And, I know Alan, I do," she swore. "I want her to know she can come to us, but I'm so afraid of history repeating itself. I don't want to pressure her, but I don't know how not too either because I want my daughter back."

"Then we should send the journal. Even if she doesn't read it, maybe she'll write in it. Maybe it will help. Maybe it will bring Emily back to us," he said passionately tucking the slim leather journal into the suitcase pocket.

Monica walked up behind him and rubbed her hand along his back. "I hope it does," she said and surveyed the clothes on the bed. With summer waning they chose a host of fall clothes. Items that could be layered for warmth and style. "I'll get this packed."

Her husband nodded but didn't move from his spot. He didn't move the entire time she slowly lifted, folded and placed the clothing lovingly into the waiting suitcase. When the task was finally done Monica closed the case and snapped it shut.

"We just got her back," Alan sighed. He lowered himself to the bed with the weight of loss and worry pressing against his heart.

"I know," Monica said softly. She ran a hand over his hair, down his neck and let it rest on his shoulder. "She's always come back though Alan. Remember that. Our girl has always found her way back home, back to us."

That's how Jason found them a few minutes later. The silence was heavy as he entered his sister's room at the Quartermaines. He knocked on the door frame to gain their attention. Alan and Monica turned in unison with similar expressions on their tired faces. His parents, he thought. It had taken him years to think of them like that. Even now claiming Alan has his father was strange feeling, but for the first time he truly understood what they went through when he woke without his memory. Understanding that helped him accept what he couldn't before – the pressure and the frustration, the need they had for him.

Nothing could be taken back. They pushed and he left and this is were their lives had led. There was, however, one thing he could offer them. Seeing them now, his words weren't just for them but for himself as well. "I didn't understand before. What you went through after the accident. Looking at me and hoping that I would remember you, even just a little bit. I get it now," Jason said looking directly at Alan because he knew is father needed words more then Monica.

"We pushed too hard," Alan stated. "Wanted too much even though medically there wasn't a chance you'd remember us."

"It's different this time though," Monica reminded them, hope shimmering in her blue eyes. "Emily could remember. I know we can't force it to happen, but it could. And we'll be different this time," she said taking Alan's hand. "We already are."

"You'll take good care of her?" Alan asked even though he already knew the answer.

!BREAK!

"I really didn't need a babysitter," Emily stated. Her focus wasn't on Elizabeth, the keeper Jason insisted on when he got called away on business, but on the humongous suitcase that sat in the middle of bed. The room itself was generic like the hospital with cool blue walls and steel colored linens. It was a functional room, but not uncomfortable. And she much preferred it to the flowery yellow room that Jason had explained belonged to friend and the pale lavender room which he said was hers.

Knowing that she always had a room at Jason's pleased her, but she wasn't ready to stay in any room that had meaning to her before the accident. She want as much as a clean slate as she could get so she selected the small, sparsely furnished guest room off the kitchen.

"I'm not here to baby sit you Emily."

Her face quirked. "Then what would you call it?" she asked opening up the suitcase.

"Welcome wagon," Elizabeth offered. She saw Emily stiffen but it wasn't her remark that caused it. Sitting on top of a brimming pile of clothes within the suitcase was a number of pictures of Emily with the family. Elizabeth silently cursed the Quartermaines. She knew they were trying to help, but blindsiding Emily was going to do more harm then good. "Em—"

"They're persistent. I'll give them that," she said her voice harsh. Emily collected the pictures and turned to the nightstand. She tossed them in the bottom drawer and slammed it closed. Elizabeth watched as Emily reached into the suitcase and pulled out a bottle of lotion. She flicked the lid open with barely controlled violence and sniffed. "Strawberry," she said with distaste. "Too sweet," and with that she chucked it into the trashcan. "It's not ME," she stated emphatically.

Emily's brown eyes met her gaze with fire and challenge in them. Elizabeth wasn't sure what to say to ease the tension in the room. Emily had started using strawberry lotion after Nikolas bought it for her birthday years ago. She remembered that Emily hadn't been fond of the sweetness at first but wore it because it was from Nikolas. It wasn't until later that she came to like it for herself. Considering how Emily felt about Nikolas now, Elizabeth didn't think telling her that would do any good.

Tastes changed, Elizabeth thought, and went with that notion. Instead of answering Emily's challenge she pulled a shirt from suitcase. "What about this?" she asked. "Do you like it? Do you like any of them?" she inquired with a sweep of her hand over the case.

"Why?" Emily asked suspiciously.

Elizabeth pulled the shirt in her hands tight, holding it up to Emily. "I never liked this one," she informed her before throwing the shirt into the garbage.

Emily blinked at her and then let out a hoot of laughter. She reached into the suitcase herself and pulled out a soft pink blouse. She eyed it. The cut was fine but the color didn't thrill her. "Not for me," she declared tossing it over her shoulder.

A grin spread across Elizabeth's face and it matched the on Emily's. "How about we go through this stuff. You keep what you like, we'll get rid of the rest and then go shopping."

It sounded like a wonderful idea. New things. Things she picked out herself. but Emily hesitated. "What if it's something sentimental?" she asked. "You know to her."

"I'll let you know," Elizabeth replied. The fact the Emily cared about that gave her hope. It was another shade of the girl she knew shining through. She might never be that girl again, Elizabeth knew, but this new person was blend of her and something else. And she was becoming fond of the that else. "If it is I'll take it, otherwise, it gets tossed. Sound good?"

"Perfect actually," she answered. They started to digging clothes out of the monster suitcase. "Hey Elizabeth?"

"Hmm?" she sounded as she separated tops from bottoms.

Emily waited until she looked up and their eyes met. "Thanks."

!BREAK!

"I'll stop by after my surgery tomorrow," Patrick promised April.

"And, I'll look forward to it," she said. Though her voice was weak her smile was broad. "Good luck," she offered.

"Thanks," he grinned. With a wave he exited her room and head towards the locker room. It had been another long day at the hospital and all Patrick wanted was quick shower and then something to eat. The fact that he might spend the rest of the night battling to keep it down was becoming less of a worry as his body was finally adjusting to the protocol. He was still struggling with the nausea, but he was getting better at keeping things down.

It was a small improvement, but one he was grateful to claim.

Pushing into the locker room Patrick yawned. He really didn't mind the long hours. It was apart of being a doctor. And his job was as much a part of him as his dimples. Without medicine he wasn't sure who he'd be. That thought led to Emily. She had been released this morning and he wondered how she was adjusting to life outside the hospital. "Not going there," he reminded himself with a growl as he pulled his scrubs over his head.

With quick and practiced movements he buttoned up his shirt and traded the papery-feeling pants for a pair of his favorite black jeans. He was closing up his locker when he heard his father's voice. "Good you're still here," Noah greeted him jovially. His father's face was withered but still handsome. At least I'll age well, Patrick thought, while suppressing a groan.

"Dad," he smiled tightly. Patrick wasn't sure how to explain his relationship with his father. It was tense on a good day, but even though they pushed each other's buttons there was still a connection between them. He loved his father, it just depended on the day if he liked him.

"I was hoping we could have dinner," Noah said ignoring his son's attitude. "And if a free meal with your old man isn't enticing enough I thought we could discuss the report Goel, Muzumdar and Dance put out on atlantoaxial spondyloposis."

"Tempting," Patrick replied, "but no thanks."

"Come on son," Noah insisted. "A good meal. A free one, from the Metro Court if you like, and some healthy debate."

Patrick eyed Noah with skepticism. Their debates were lively, but that was because they disagreed on just about everything. Including their reasons for wanting to be surgeons. Though it wasn't top on his list he did like making a difference, especially when it challenged him. His father would never understand that, couldn't really after his mother. "If we can skip the debate and make it Tai food, you got yourself a deal," he yielded.