Part Two

Patrick was called into the hospital early Sunday morning, so he wasn't home when Anna or Devan woke up. In fact, he found himself stuck at the hospital all day long. It seemed that overnight every idiot who owned a skateboard/in-line skates/bicycle had decided to fall on their heads, and of course none of them were wearing helmets. Three surgeries and five consultations later it was nearly midnight. Patrick had gone a whole day without seeing his daughter.

It did happen occasionally, but it had been years since the last time. And it made Patrick a little nervous to think of Anna and Devan alone together. He didn't really think Anna would say anything to Devan about Robin, but still it made him uneasy.

There was a light on in the house when Patrick pulled into the driveway at 3am. His eyes were burning with exhaustion and he hoped it wasn't Anna waiting up to have some long, deep, lengthy discussion with him.

But there she was.

Upon opening the door from the garage, Patrick found Anna on the sofa, under a blanket, reading a book.

"Welcome home," she smiled, setting down the book.

"Devan missed you today. She wanted to stay up, but I knew she had school tomorrow so I told her it would have to wait. That she could see you in the morning."

"Thanks," Patrick dropped his bag by the door and collapsed in the nearby, overstuffed chair.

"Rough night?" Anna asked.

"Just a lot of kids that came through today with head trauma. There must have been some kind of party or something-I've not seen a day like today for a very long time," Patrick rubbed his face with his hands as if that would invigorate him. "What did you and D do today?"

"We talked. She asked me about my family, we did a lot of work on her family history assignment."

"And?" Patrick waited for her to finish.

"And she wanted to know a bit more about her mother. Her childhood, what she liked, stuff like that. She never asked about her death," Anna seemed sad and Patrick felt a bit sorry for being so hard on her.

"I'm sorry, Anna," he sighed deeply and seemed to sink even deeper into the chair. "I never meant for things to get this out of hand. I just don't know what to do anymore."

"There's no right or wrong answer, Patrick. You can only do what you think is best, for you and for Devan. We may not agree about what that is in regards to her knowing about her mother, but you have never given me a reason to doubt you love her with all your heart, and that you want what is best for her."

Patrick was shocked. Touched, but shocked by Anna's declarations.

"I do intend to tell her the truth about Robin, I just haven't figured out when, let alone how," Patrick yawned.

"But it's not going to happen tonight. If you don't mind, I'm going to crash for a few hours before I need to get up and see Devan off to school," Patrick stood and felt the blood rush from his head, causing little black spots to float before his eyes. It was a few moments before he felt like he could walk without passing out.

"Goodnight, Anna, and thank you for being here. We'll talk more tomorrow," Patrick slowly ascended the stairs and after checking on Devan, who was fast asleep, he collapsed in his own large, empty bed, and fell into a deep sleep.

Patrick woke up several hours later with a strange sense of purpose. Part of him felt that maybe he'd dreamt about Robin. That maybe she was trying to reassure him from wherever she was. Patrick didn't believe in the afterlife, but his feelings that morning were almost strong enough to cause him to pause in his adamancy about death.

Glancing at the clock he saw it was not quite 6am. He had a good hour or so of rest before Devan would be up-yet Patrick found himself wide awake; his mind swarming around the faintest of memories.

Sitting up suddenly, Patrick swung out of bed, and throwing on his robe and slippers he headed up the dusty, creaky stairs at the end of the hall, to the attic. He was going to the place where he'd locked away a piece of his heart ten years ago.

The attic, unvisited since last Christmas when Patrick put away the lights and decorations, was a bit cold and stuffy in the early morning hour. There was one window opposite the stairs that let in a bit of light, but at this time of morning Patrick needed the help of modern electricity.

Crossing his fingers that the bulb hanging bare from the ceiling still worked, he flipped the switch. There was a loud buzzing noise, than harsh white light streaked across the dusty floor, reaching even the furthest corners and eliminating nearly every shadow.

Patrick scanned the attic. In one corner were Devan's baby things; the stroller, the crib, the dresser Robin had hand painted with decorative roses and lilies just weeks before Devan had been born. Next to that were Patrick's college boxes and his books from Med School. Stacked on top of that were Patrick's racecar sets. Devan begged and pleaded nearly once a month for Patrick to bring down his racing sets so they could play; but since Robin's death he hadn't been able to. They reminded him so much of her that it felt like the day she'd died all over again. Sometimes he felt the pull to get them out, or to take Devan to the races; to instill in his daughter some of the love he had (or had previously) for Nascar. But things had changed too much, and Patrick really wondered if he would ever be able to attend another race.

Next to Patrick's things were the few boxes that stored the remaining life story of Robert Scorpio. It had been only a week or so before the wedding that Robin's father had died of complications from colon cancer. Robin had been devastated, and Patrick had nearly convinced her to postpone the wedding. But Anna, always the voice of reason, convinced them both that Robert would have wanted them to go on. So they did, but not without pain, and not without tears. Patrick moved slowly over to the boxes that held the few remnants of the life of Robert Scorpio. There were few things he'd held on to through the years, mostly pictures and a few old books.

But it wasn't the boxes of Robert Scorpio that Patrick wanted to look at.

Next to Robert's boxes, tucked back into the deepest of shadows, away from prying eyes, behind a portable closet that held Robin's wedding dress and some other irreplaceable articles of clothing, was a large, ornately carved cedar chest.

It had been nine years since Patrick had last opened the chest and gone through its delicate and priceless contents. On Devan's first birthday Patrick had been so overwhelmed with grief that he thought he might die from the pain-but it was what he'd found in this chest that had brought him back to his young daughter.

It was just what he needed now.

"Morning, daddy," Devan bounded into the kitchen, her hair in lopsided ponytails and her mouth twisted into a devilish grin. She skipped over to where Patrick sat reading the paper and drinking his third cup of coffee. Devan threw her arms around Patrick's neck and kissed his cheeks, three times each side. It was some new routine; Patrick had no idea where the system developed but he couldn't help but wonder that some of Robin was starting to come through.

"Let me fix your hair, it's a little crooked," Patrick turned his daughter away from him and she leaned back on his knees while he pulled at the elastic bands and straightened out her ponytails. Who would have ever thought that he'd be doing his daughter's hair? ...certainly not him.

"Will you be here tonight when I get home from school?" Devan asked and Patrick felt a tug at his heartstrings.

"Yes," he replied as he lightly tugged on Devan's hair. She giggled and kissing the top of her head Patrick stood and proceeded to make Devan's breakfast; toast with peanut butter, half an apple and a glass of milk.

"Good!" Devan rounded the table and sat, her head resting on her hands as she watched Patrick spread peanut butter on the toast that just popped up from the toaster.

"Don't forget-,"

"No crusts, I know," Patrick finished Devan's sentence as he cut the crusts off the toasted bread.

"I have something for you," Patrick grinned as he sat breakfast in front of his daughter and she grabbed the toast right away. Devan's eyes widened in wonder. Her mouth was full of peanut butter or else Patrick knew she'd be firing a million questions at him.

"After school," Patrick added; knowing it was slightly cruel of him to tease her.

Devan's eyes narrowed and she chewed with determined silence. Patrick tried not to laugh.

Not to much later, Anna came wondering down the stairs into the kitchen. She smiled and kissed the top of Devan's head, then went straight for the coffee pot.

Before she had a chance to sit down Devan was out the door and off to school.

"You look a little rough this morning. If I didn't know any better I'd say you were hungover," Patrick warmly teased.

"I didn't sleep well," Anna finally responded after a few sips of the hot coffee. "I kept dreaming about Robin as a little girl, when she first came to Port Charles; the same few memories over and over. It was exhausting," Anna pulled the newspaper towards her and scanned the headlines.

"Anna, I'd like to show you something…,"

Patrick heard the bus outside, like clockwork, at 3:03pm. He heard laughter and his daughter calling out to her friends. Moments later she was through the front door.

"What's my surprise?"

Patrick smiled and motioned for Devan to join him on the sofa.

"Where's Gamma Anna?" Devan asked as she curled up next to Patrick.

"She went for a walk, she'll be back in a little bit. I wanted to talk to you alone if that's okay."

"I didn't do anything wrong!" Devan immediately proclaimed and Patrick laughed.

"I know, you aren't in trouble. But what I want to talk to you about is kind of serious and I wanted to do it alone. Okay?"

"Okay," Devan replied, sounding relieved. Patrick wondered what she'd been getting into to think she was in trouble…

"I have a tape for you to watch. It's a message recorded for you before you were born. It's from your mom."

to be continued…