Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your reviews. They're much appreciated.

Patrick knew better then to drink his problems away. He'd seen his father fall down that dark and harrowing abyss and he had no intentions of following in his footsteps. Still that hadn't stopped him from allowing himself a rare occasion of going for a solitary drink after a particularly trying day.

Today was one of those days. He was exhausted from his surgery and emotionally wrung out after his conversation with Robin. He should have headed back to the hotel and slept for 12-hours after a hot shower and some room service. Instead he made his way to Jake's for a drink.

He wanted the smokiness and noise Jake's could provide. Patrick wanted to lose himself in it so he wouldn't have to think anymore. His mind could be blessedly blank while he nursed a scotch. After that he'd go to home to the Metro Court, have his shower and dinner, and hopefully fall into a dreamless sleep. Though if he was honest with himself Patrick didn't mind the erotic dreams of Emily he'd been having of late.

Honesty was exactly what Patrick was trying to avoid at the moment. "Doc," Coleman greeted as he slid onto the sticky barstool.

"Coleman," he nodded a greeting in return. "Can I get scotch, neat. Make it a double."

"Sure thing," he replied with a click of tongue against his lips. Patrick watched as the barman poured the alcohol into an unsophisticated, but clean glass. "Here you go," Coleman drawled his words together as he placed the drink in front of him.

"Thanks," Patrick replied wrapping his hand around the glass but not lifting it. That's how he stayed for the next few minutes. He sat perfectly still, his eyes glazing over at the sight of his own reflection in the mirror. He barely took note of Coleman placing a basket of chips near his elbow before he turned his attention to blonde at the end of the bar.

A few months ago be vying for the scantily-clad woman's attention, but it wasn't just his possible HIV status that was stopping him. He was over obvious women. Patrick took it as a sign of finally growing up. "It's not all it's cracked up to be," he muttered under his breath before finally taking sip of his scotch. It burned its way down his throat and warmed his belly. As the drink settled he took a deep, relaxing breath.

Patrick was just beginning to dig into the chips when he saw dark hair, draped over leather reflected in the mirror. Before he got a good look at her face he knew it was Emily. I really can't catch a break, he cursed silently.

When Emily's gaze met his in the mirror, he saw that she forced a smile. "Hi," she said, her voice all fake cheer as she approached him. "Mind if I join you?"

He shook his head because he didn't think speaking was the intelligent thing to do at the moment. Yes, of course, he wanted her company, he just didn't think it was good thing for either of them. If that wasn't bad enough, he was forgetting why he thought that in the first place.

Emily took her jack it off and draped it over the stool before sitting down. "It's been a long time," Coleman noted as he slithered up the bar. He was smiling at Emily. It was flirty smile which annoyed Patrick, but it was not predatory as his come-on smile to the blonde had been. Clearly the man was intimidated by her connections to Sonny and Jason.

"I guess it has been," Emily sighed. Patrick knew that tone. It was her I'm-stick-of-everyone-knowing-me-but-me tone and he wondered who she had a run in with. It had to have been a bad encounter to have her showing up here. To a place she probably thought no one would know her or bother her.

"Tequila?" the barkeep asked.

"Why not," she replied before sending him a sideways glance. It was a challenging look, as if she expected him to protest her choice of beverage or even her decision to be there in the first place.

"Lick it, slam it, suck it," he said as the shot was placed in front of her.

Emily's eyebrow quirked. "Excuse me?" she asked laughter evident in her voice.

"That's how it was explained to me," Patrick replied with a grin.

"By me?"

"And a few of your friends," he answered.

A thoughtful look came over her face at his words. "Friends," she said the word softly as she spun the shot glass with her thumb and index finger. "They're never quite what you expect them to be."

Patrick shimmied on his stool so that he was facing her instead of the mirror. "No, I suppose they're not."

"I ran into—" Emily stopped abruptly. Instead of continuing her thought she did as he suggested. He watched fascinated has her tongue slid over the tender flesh between her thumb and index finger before she gulped down the shot. Patrick couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like if she was biting down on his neck instead of the slice of lemon. "Another please," she requested of Coleman.

Tequila spilled into the shot glass as Emily turned to face him. "I'm tired of myself and my own drama," she confided. "I haven't exactly been a friend to you of late. So what brings you here Doctor Drake?"

At the moment Patrick wasn't exactly feeling friendly, but he managed to squelched his impure thoughts and answer her question. "Just having a drinking."

"You could do that at hotel you live at, the Metro Court, couldn't you?" she pointed out. "So why come here?"

"To enjoy the ambiance," Patrick offered.

Emily let out a hoot of laughter. "What's not enjoy?" She turned and did a quick survey of the bar, "The clack of pool cues, the ancient rock music, the dim lighting that smacks of something out of a wannabe noir movie."

"I see you're turning into quite the movie buff.."

"Nah," she shrugged her shoulders. "I saw Dillon – my cousin – the other day. He doesn't know what to say to me, so he starts in on movies. It's kind of cute until he gets into the all technical mumbo-jumbo."

"Mumbo-jumbo?" he questioned amused.

"What?" Emily asked, her cheeks flushing. "It's a perfectly acceptable phrase. Would you rather I have said gobbledygook or gibberish?"

Patrick let out a deep laugh. "No. No. And I rather not squabble over word choice if it's all the same to you."

"Me either," Emily agreed and lifted her shot. "No more squabbling," she toasted. Patrick clinked his glass against hers, but waited until she was done with the lick it, slam it, suck it ritual before taking a sip of his own drink. Resting her chin on her knuckles, Emily eyed him and said, "Now I think you owe me a real answer to my question."

"It was along day and I wanted an anonymous drink."

"I guess I ruined that for you. Sorry," she offered with sheepish grin.

"That's all right. I probably would have ended up stewing anyhow. I can't seem to help myself lately," Patrick confided without meaning to.

"Boy do I know that feeling." Having said that she flagged Coleman down for another shot. "Stew and talk, and stew and talk. That's how I fill my days."

"Sounds rough," Patrick remarked, his tone mocking.

"Hey now," Emily protested, shoving his shoulder slightly, "it can be. I know you're magnificent and all, but don't you ever get tired of yourself?"

Patrick couldn't stopped himself from repeating, "Magnificent?"

Again she flushed, and the alcohol carried from her cheeks into her neck. "If you're not careful I'm never going to say a nice thing about you again."

"Don't worry. There are scores of people willing to take up where you leave off."

"Why don't I doubt it?" Emily asked with a shake of her head. "I bet you even have an official fan club and everything."

"Now there's something to take into consideration." He pretended to mull it over, scratching at his chin while Emily gaped him.

"Sometimes I really don't know what to make out of you Patrick. You can be so charming but arrogant, distant but supportive, you're self-deprecating and funny. You're obviously brilliant with that surgeon's mind, not to mention easy on the eyes."

"Keep going, this does wonders for my ego."

"Yeah, I imagine it does, but you hide behind it. Why?" Emily inquired.

Patrick sighed, "I really don't want to be serious tonight Emily. That's why I came here. I wanted to unwind with a drink and then go back to my room for dinner and a good night's sleep."

"That's the truth isn't, and not some kind of deflection?"

"Yes," he answered, "that's the truth."

Emily glanced down at her drink and then met his gaze again. "Would you tell me sometime?" she asked leaning into him.

"Yeah, I would," he replied. Without thinking about it Patrick brushed back a lock of hair that had fallen into her face.

"How about tomorrow?" she suggested.

"Tomorrow?" he asked startled as he shifted back from her.

"We could have dinner."

"Emily, I … we're – I don't want to date you," he lied.

Hurt flashed in her eyes and she backed away from him. "I wasn't," she started to protest before hurt turned to anger. "I guess friends don't have dinner in your world."

"Emily."

"Don't," she cut him off as she stood. "You don't have to explain it to me. You've been kind and clearly I misinterpreted a doctor's care for friendship. I'm sorry about that, but I won't make that mistake again." Emily pulled her jacket off the stool and headed for the door.

"Would you just wait?" Patrick demanded grabbing her forearm. "This isn't about you all right? It's about me and the fact that before your accident we weren't friends."

"So?" she challenged.

"You've started to remember Emily. It's only a matter of time before you know yourself again."

"And what, I hated you?"

"No."

"Then what?" Emily asked. "It's not like I'm going to forget everything that's happened since waking up."

"I know that," Patrick assured her, "but your memories might color everything and I don't want you to feel like I—that I …"

"What? That you what Patrick?" Emily asked visibly irritated.

"That I took advantage of you," he explained.

Emily shook her head in disbelief. "What am I stupid now? Incapable of making sound decisions?"

"No, just informed ones," he stated sadly.

"Well he's an informed decision for you Patrick," she seethed jerking away from him. "Screw you!"

He didn't try to stop her this time. Instead he watched her storm out of Jake's and into the night. "You handled that well," Coleman commented with a whistle.

"Shut up," Patrick scowled.

"Whatever, but she stomped out of here before settling up. Since that's your fault you're covering the bill."

"Fine," he said wearily. Patrick pulled a fifty out of his wallet. "Keep the change," he said before exiting the bar. Outside he scanned the parking lot for her, but she wasn't there. He took a deep breath of cold air before he pulled out his cell phone. He dialed Emily's number unsure of what he was going to say.

It rang four times before going to voice mail. "I'm an idiot," he said after the beep. "A colossal idiot. I know that and if you would give me the chance to explain I would really appreciate it. So come to dinner with me tomorrow night. Neutral ground, Kelly's around seven? Listen if you're not there … I'm sorry."

!BREAK!

"Wait? Patrick actually said the words 'I'm sorry?'" Elizabeth asked over the buzz of voices, feet moving, and food being prepared and served. They were sitting at a small table on the far side of cafeteria were the bustling sounds of the hospital's lunch crowd was muffed to a tolerable level.

"Yes. Is that a novelty?" she inquired pushing the food around on her plate. Hospital food still looked as unappealing as ever and Emily had no real intention of eating it. Lunch was just the only time Elizabeth had available today, so she agreed to brave General Hospital's cafeteria.

"For Patrick, yeah it is," Elizabeth answered before taking a large bite of her pasta. Emily decided that pregnant women must have iron stomachs because her friend was wolfing down her meal. "I think you should go."

"Because he said he's sorry?"

"He also admitted to being an idiot," Elizabeth reminded her. "I've never known Patrick to admit he's wrong. So yes, I think you should cut him some slack and hear him out. I mean it's just a friendly dinner."

"Actually, it wouldn't be," Emily informed her.

"What do you mean?" her friend asked intrigued.

Emily shifted uncomfortably in her hard, plastic chair. "We've kind of been flirting and I like Patrick."

"As in like him, like him?" Elizabeth demanded her blue eyes widening in surprise.

"Yes. And the jerk thinks I can't make an informed decision," Emily growled stabbing her meatloaf.

Elizabeth sighed. "Maybe he has a point Emily."

"What?" she sputtered, too shocked to be angry.

"Things, and I'm not talking about your relationships with Nikolas or Sonny," she clarified, "but other things happened that you haven't remembered."

"Things with Patrick or just in general?"

"In general. Besides," Elizabeth continued quickly, "you have to remember that Patrick has his own issues. He's still waiting on his final HIV test."

"I know that, but HIV positive or not he's still Patrick and I still like him. Or at least I did until he was an idiot," she stated pushing her tray away. The congealing grease was getting to be too much to look at and smell.

"All men act like idiots, they can't help themselves," Elizabeth offered supportively.

"Jason doesn't," Emily countered.

"So says his adoring sister. None of us are perfect Emily, not even Jason, but that doesn't mean we cut our losses and move on."

"I thought you said Patrick had a point," she grumbled.

"He does, and so do you. The situation is complicated," Elizabeth reminded her. "You both need to speak your piece before any decisions are made. So go to dinner tonight. If Patrick is still an idiot at least you tired and won't be left wondering."

"I guess," Emily replied still not completely convinced.